#I grab the kid and yank off the helmet. kid is now safe in my arms and v chill

[that-sokovian-bastard]

Partners in Crime - Jason Todd x Reader

Words: 2210 Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader Featuring: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson Warnings: Crime-fighting, mentions killing, swearing Summary: You're working with Red Hood to clean up Gotham and make it safe. Batman and Nightwing don't like the way you are going about doing that. Author's Note: This takes place before Batman & Co know Jason is Red Hood and shortly after Red Hood showed up in Gotham, so you and Jason are about 20ish. Also, I listened to Partners in Crime by Set It Off many times while writing this and use one lyric so it's not super "based on" but definitely inspired by it!

Jason / Full Masterlist

---

"Batman is catching up!" You shouted to Red Hood as you two ran along the roof next to each other. "What's the plan?"

"Split up!" He yelled back and pointed for you to go to the right.

You shot him a confused look, even though he couldn't see it under your helmet. "Are you sure it's a wise idea?"

"He can only chase one of us," Red Hood reasoned. "Meet back at the apartment!"

You nodded, and both of you turned in opposite directions. This wasn't the first time you guys had a run-in with Batman, but it was the closest he managed to get to you. You thought you lost him and took a second to breathe on the roof, but as you were about to take off again, he jumped right in front of you.

Batman stared at you, and you were mentally planning how you would get out of this. "You don't want to do this, kid," He warned. Again, he couldn't see it, but you rolled your eyes, and you made it known even though you were blocked by your helmet.

You didn't say anything but instead charged at Batman to try to take him by surprise. You should've known you couldn't do that, but it was all your brain was coming up with. Bruce trained you; you know how he fights, but once he realizes it, he'll recognize how you fight, too.

Most of the fight was him dodging your hits and trying to get you to calm down so he could speak with you, but you weren't hearing any of it. You left Bruce's side when Jason died; now it's time for you to get back out there and help Red Hood.

Finally, after a few minutes more of dodging and throwing punches, Bruce was over it. He recognized the fighting style a bit and just wanted to talk with you and figure out what you and Red Hood wanted. He lunged at your helmet, hitting it hard but not hurting you. You groaned loudly as the helmet flew off your face and landed a few feet away from you near the edge of the building. Having it yanked off definitely would leave a bruise on your chin, but you were more worried about other things now.

Batman stopped moving and stared at you as you rubbed your chin, swearing under your breath about the ache. Bruce sighed, followed by your name. You looked at him, staring right back, not saying anything. It started to rain, and Bruce broke the silence. "What are you doing?"

You took a moment to respond, assessing your area without him noticing. He was distracted, finding out that the person working with Red Hood is you. "I'm doing what you didn't."

"What do you mean?" He asked, trying to get all he could get out of you.

Shaking your head, you leaned over, grabbed your helmet off the roof, and tucked it under your arm. "You won't get it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some business to attend to," You told him and leaned back off the roof, letting gravity take you. Timed perfectly, you used your grappling hook to catch yourself from the fall, and you vanished.

Bruce shouted your name and ran to the edge of the building. "Wait!" He said as he peered over, but you were nowhere to be seen.

You were stuck between smiling and scowling. On the one hand, your trick of getting out of Bruce's grasp was awesome, but on the other, Bruce now knows you're working with Red Hood.

Once you arrived at your apartment, Jason was already inside, waiting for you. "What took you so long?" He asked.

"Bruce caught up to me; we fought a bit, then he kicked my helmet off and figured out who I am," You gave him the rundown. "But it's okay, and I got out before he got anything from me."

"Well, that's both good and bad," Jason sighed. "You're okay, though, right?" He asked.

You nodded, not elaborating. "I'm surprised he went after you," He said.

"Yeah, I don't know. Maybe it was a mistake," You shrugged. "You see anything important?"

"Nightwing's in town."

As you took your jacket off, you looked at Jason to make sure he wasn't messing with you. "Really? Dick's here? Where did you see him?" You asked.

"Saw him when we first ran away from the encounter. I think he showed up to help Batman with those guys who nearly sold us out," Jason scoffed. "Fuckin' snitches."

You ignored his last statement. "Well, that's annoying. Hopefully he doesn't try to get involved."

Jason immediately stopped moving and shot you a ridiculous look. "It's Dick. He's going to get involved."

Shrugging, you let the conversation finish there and went to the bedroom to change out of your suit. Jason was still ranting about the snitches willing to rat out Red Hood, Batman following you guys, and Bruce finding out who you are. "Jay, calm down. It's probably best he followed me anyway. Because now, he's going to focus on me instead of you, right?" You tried to talk some sense into him. You convinced him to take some deep breaths, and finally, you guys were able to talk about how the rest of the night went.

On the other side of Gotham, Bruce returned to the Batcave, nearly blowing steam out his ears from being so angry. Dick was already there, enjoying some snacks with Alfred, worried when Bruce came in and huffed over to his computer. Once Dick managed to ask him what was wrong, Bruce said, "We know who Red Hood's accomplice is," And said your name, both Dick and Alfred understood why he was so mad.

Dick sighed, more disappointed than anything. "What do they think they're doing?" He asked, not expecting any response.

---

You followed Jason along the roofs. He got a tip about someone going after someone that works under him, and Red Hood wasn't about to let his guy die. He might have a different plan for the other one, though.

"Are you sure about this?" You asked him once you two got stopped and hid behind something on the roof. Someone was in the alley, but not the guy Jason was looking for; it was someone else.

"I think so. You stay up here, and I'll go down when things escalate. Then, if I need your help, you can follow. That way, we both don't get involved if we don't need to," He explained, and you nodded.

Right as the plan was formed, the guy Jason wanted to protect walked down the sidewalk. This was a planned attack, so it was good that someone tipped him off; that way, he could protect the guy and unleash some anger on the attacker. Red Hood jumped off the roof and ran after the attacker before he could even get a swing at Red Hood's guy, scaring him more than anything. But Jason didn't have much time before Batman jumped down between Red Hood and the attacker, causing both Red Hood's guy and the other man to run off instantly.

"Not you again," Red Hood mumbled. He quickly looked up at you and shouted, "Rendezvous!" And you didn't look back as you took off running. Now that Bruce knows who you are, things are more complicated.

You ran along the roofs to get back to the apartment, which was the same as the rendezvous point, knowing Jason would meet you there as soon as he got away from Batman. When you got only a few buildings away, Nightwing stood in front of you with his arms crossed.

You tried to turn, but he called your name to distract you. "Why are you doing this?" He asked.

Sighing, you looked up at him. "I'm doing what Bruce didn't."

He was confused. "What is that supposed to mean? You and Red Hood are hurting people."

"Us?" You scoffed. "If anything, Batman is!"

"How?" He asked, genuinely curious.

You were mad he didn't realize. He is the golden child, so why wouldn't he always blindly follow Batman? "If he manned up and took care of the issues instead of throwing them in Arkham so they can break out and cause more harm, then Gotham wouldn't have nearly as many criminals as we have now!" You shouted.

Dick stared at you, understanding what you meant when you said it. "We don't kill people. That's when we become just as bad as them."

"I don't need the lecture. Bruce gave it to me when I wanted to go after Joker. But if he killed Joker all those years ago, we wouldn't still be facing problems caused by Joker!" You said, frustrated. "If Bruce cared about Gotham, he would take care of Freeze, Riddler, Joker...all of them! If Joker were dead, Jason wouldn't have died!" You continued to rant, momentarily forgetting that you were on the way to meet up with Jason.

Sighing, Nightwing figured it out. "So that's what this is about. It's about Jason," He said, and you gestured vaguely in response. "How did you even get connected to Red Hood? We're worried about you."

"He found me," You said, not elaborating any further. "We will keep Gotham safe, unlike how you and Bruce think you're doing it. If they're gone, then there won't be any more issues, right?"

"You know that's not how it works," He tried to reason with you, but you didn't care. "I need to take you back to the Batcave. Please don't make this harder than it has to be," Dick said as he walked closer to you.

You backed up, looking back when your foot hit the edge. Then, you figured you could buy yourself some time. "Out of everyone, Dick, I thought you would get it," You crossed your arms. He stopped, waiting for you to say more. "I thought you would understand that there is only one way to solve everything. Do you even care that Joker killed Jason?"

"Of course I do," He snapped. "I miss him just as much as you do, but I can't change anything now. If we cross that line and start killing people, we will be just as bad as everyone in Arkham. There are other ways," He explained. "Now, come on, let's get to the Cave."

You shook your head, chuckling a little. "No. You'll never take us alive," You said and looked over your shoulder. Dick realized you were going to jump, and when he lunged toward you, you did exactly that and jumped off the building. Just like how you escaped Batman a few nights prior, using your grappling hook, you escaped into the darkness before Dick could even regain his balance.

"Dammit!" He swore to himself before trying to contact Batman to see where he was back.

You expected that you wouldn't beat Jason back to the apartment after your encounter with Nightwing, and you were right. It wasn't too long that Jason was waiting for you pacing around the kitchen. "There you are!" He said when he saw you make your way through the window. "What happened?"

"Dick tried to talk to me then take me back to the Batcave. I got out of there, but we talked. I thought he would be the one to understand," You sighed, then realized something was wrong with Jason's arm. "What happened there?" You pointed.

Jason removed his hand from his shoulder and showed you the slice where he was bleeding. You grabbed a towel off the counter and quickly put it on top of the cut. "What is this?" You asked as Jason winced while you tried to cover it.

"Got hit with a Batarang. He was trying to hit something, and I moved at the perfect time in the wrong direction, and he cut me. Luckily, I was able to get out of there quickly," He explained. "Doesn't hurt too bad, though. I haven't gotten to the first-aid stuff yet."

You stared at him when you realized what this meant. "Jason," You said seriously.

"What?"

"You got cut with a Batarang. He let you get away. Probably to make sure he could grab said Batarang..." You talked it out to him so he could realize the same thing.

Jason's jaw dropped. "Oh my god," He said.

"Bruce has your blood and is probably running tests on it right now," You looked down in defeat. "We've lost our element of surprise and mystery."

You looked back up when Jason clicked his tongue. "Well, at least he knows why I'm so pissed."

And just as you were helping clean up Jason's cut, Bruce was getting the test results that proved his thoughts about who Red Hood is. Nightwing came running in, ready to report what he found out from you. "I know who Red Hood is!" He shouted, not yet seeing the results on the computer.

"I do, too," Bruce said, making Dick confused, then gesturing to the computer.

"Damn, that was supposed to be my big news," Dick sighed.

Bruce ignored the joke, turned around, and headed back to the Batmobile. "We have a lot of work to do."

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #dc #dcu #imagines #fanfiction #x reader #red hood #nightwing #batman #dc comics

[absolutepokemontrash]

MC is Half Demon and They Look Awfully Familiar Lesson 16

Masterlist

Previous part

It’s finally here! The long awaited Lesson 16! Please enjoy, my lovelies!

MC had gone back in time, they didn’t think their year as an exchange student would end up like this, but yet, there they were. They sprinted up the stairs to the attic and burst through the door.

Their heart was in their throat as they made their way down the hallway and peaked through the door.

“MC?”

Belphegor, safe and sound, got up from the bed and rubbed his eyes. “What are you doing? What’s wrong?”

“A lot of stuff… um…” MC tapped their foot and shifted anxiously. “I’m going to get you out of here, okay?”

“Right now?”

“Right now.”

MC slammed their palm into the door and slowly wrapped their fingers around the bars as they felt the remnants of Lucifer’s spell coil its way up their arm. The spell had weakened with time, and Lucifer must have neglected to reinforce it.

They gritted their teeth and countered with their own magic, but MC could feel their strength being drained. Their vision blurred ever so slightly as something else countered Lucifer’s magic. It was warm and calming, as if someone had pressed a kiss to MC’s forehead and told them everything was going to be okay.

The door let out a metallic screech as it wrestled against the spell, begging to be opened. Until finally, blue sparks erupted from the door and slowly fizzled out. The door slowly creaked open as the warm energy faded.

Belphie took a tentative step forward, when met with no resistance, he stepped into the hallway. Free at last.

MC stood in silence, fatigue washing over them. That was… exhausting.

“You did it.” Belphie beamed at MC, who looked up and returned the smile.

“I… I did!” MC squeaked, looking at the broken attic door in wonder.

Belphie laughed at their starry eyed expression and held out his arms for a hug. “Nice job, MC.”

MC threw themselves into his arms and let out a laugh of pure joy at their achievement. They had broken a spell put down by their father. They had done it! All by themselves! He was going to be so proud of them! Well, after Belphie and him made up of course.

“You know,” Belphie whispered as he wrapped his arms around MC. “I wonder how long it’s been…”

“Hm?” MC felt Belphie shift slightly in their arms, a new material rested against their face. MC opened their eyes and looked up.

“How many thousands of years it’s been since I’ve held something so human in my arms.”

Belphegor was in his demon form, curved horns jutting out of the side of his head, a tail lazily swishing behind him. He smiled as he looked down at MC.

“What are you-”

MC was cut off by a hand wrapping around their throat as they were yanked upwards. They let out a scream as they immediately shifted into their own demon form, their wings flapping, desperately trying to push Belphegor back.

MC’s hands clawed at the hand wrapped around their neck and slammed their feet into his chest. Their escape attempts were put to a halt as Belphegor slammed MC into the hallway wall, painfully pinning MC’s frantically flapping wings.

Their vision swam as the base of their skull connected with the wall, their ears rang and tears began to prick at the corners of their eyes. Thinking fast, MC tried to sink their rapidly sharpening teeth into Belphegor’s arm but his grip on their neck was holding their head straight.

They were going to die-

They were going to die-

They didn’t want to die-

They couldn’t just die like this!

——

Belphegor almost rolled his eyes as he watched MC panic and thrash. He could feel their pulse race beneath his fingers.

A demon’s life or death adrenaline kicking in was no joke, Belphegor knew that. But this kid- this little brat wasn’t even a full demon.

Belphie’s face contorted into a scowl as he let his magic seep through his hands, he soon felt MC’s pulse slow and clarity return to their vision.

——

MC’s kicks and scratches slowed and black spots danced across their vision as their gaze settled on Belphegor.

Every ounce of energy that MC could have mustered was sapped out of them, every single breath they managed to choke out took a massive amount of effort.

“There we go,” Belphegor smiled, his head lolling to the side. “Was that so hard, MC?”

MC let out a low growl, then a whimper when the grip on their throat tightened.

“Now now,” Belphegor sighed. “You’re in no position to get snappy with me, are you?”

MC didn’t respond.

“You know, half breed? If you’re tricked by a demon, you truly have your own stupidity and naivety to blame.” Belphegor continued. “You wouldn’t understand that, would you? You’re half human. Humans are notoriously easy to trick.”

MC gripped the hand holding their neck even tighter, digging their nails into his wrist.

“It’s pathetic, that’s what it is. Are you even Lucifer’s child? Your wings say so, but your ability to fight back leaves something to be desired.”

The insult caused MC to slam their foot into Belphegor’s ribcage, he grimaced, but his grip held firm.

“It’s just so ridiculously pitiful, MC.” Belphie said. “Any real demon would be able to fight back from this easy peasy.”

Belphegor snickered and used his free hand to rub the remaining sleep from his eyes. He was barely half awake and MC was still completely at his mercy.

“So sad… sad indeed.”

“Wh-why?” MC barely managed to whisper, Belphie rolled his eyes.

“I swear, does anyone in this house tell you anything?” Belphie sneered. “I. Hate. Humans. Simple as that. And look at you, the half human kid of the brother that locked me up here, you’ll have to forgive me for being a little upset, MC.”

“Let’s see now,” Belphegor cooed, bringing his face slightly closer. “Does your pride match up to your dear dad’s? Are you willing to beg for your life? If you do it well enough, I might be tempted to let you live.”

The grip around their neck relaxed slightly, MC gasped for air, taking a few deep breaths. Belphegor raised an eyebrow.

“I’m waiting.”

The silence hung in the air, the back of MC’s head throbbed in pain as they tried to focus their gaze to Belphegor’s. They’d say what they were going to say next looking him in the eyes. The child’s black and red eyes slowly narrowed into an icy glare.

“Death first.” MC snarled.

Belphegor’s hand tightened around their neck so much that MC couldn’t even scream, their hands fell to their sides and their kicks slowly subsided. As their vision began to fade, they almost laughed despite themselves.

It seemed they really were their father’s child.

——

“Death first.”

Belphegor tightened his grip and felt MC’s throat practically crumple and fall apart in his grasp.

Even when faced with death they refused to grovel. Belphegor let out a soft laugh. They really were Lucifer’s child!

That look of pure disdain, that refusal to just give up and beg, all Lucifer.

They really were… Lucifer’s…

Belphie snarled and slammed MC’s unconscious form into the wall again, trying to ignore the feeling that twisted his gut.

“I hate you…” he whispered.

“I hate you… I hate you!” Belphie repeated, not daring to look up. “I hate you I hate you I hate you!”

Belphie’s hand slowly slipped from MC’s neck and they crumpled to the floor. his arm fell limp at his side as he caught his breath.

There was no way the kid could have survived that, and yet, Belphie heard breathing. Quiet, shuddering breaths.

He dragged his eyes to look at MC. Their demon form really did look like his brother’s. MC’s horns hadn’t fully grown in yet, but they were just beginning to curve upwards, one a little more than the other. Everything from their wings to the diamond shaped mark on the centre of their forehead, was all Lucifer.

The brother that all of them had once looked up to, the brother that took care of them, the brother that declared war on everything he had known for their sister.

…but MC wasn’t Lucifer, were they? No. No they weren’t. They weren’t the human that Lilith had fallen in love with either, they weren’t the reason for the war.

They were the only person that reached out to help Belphie, the person who went up to visit him, they were someone who saw him as family.

“What did you do?” An all too impossibly familiar voice whispered. “Belphie, what did you do?!”

He felt his throat tighten. A DDD buzzed nearby, it was lying face down a little farther down the hallway. In an almost hypnotic state, Belphegor walked over and picked it up.

Two texts greeted him.

Father: I’ll be home in five minutes.

Father: The student council meeting ran late.

The text wasn’t what caught his attention, it was the picture on the lock screen. It was a picture of MC, Levi, Mammon, and Beel. MC was on Beel’s shoulders and Levi and Mammon were shoving each other around behind them. Mammon looked to be having more fun than Levi, who had just noticed his picture was being taken and looked completely terrified. Beel was eating a bag of chips and MC was in the middle of reaching into the bag to grab a handful, they were looking into the camera like they had just noticed the person taking the picture.

They were walking back from… something. Half of Mammon’s face was covered in RAD’s school colours, and Levi was holding a few poster boards that were also in the school’s colours. MC was wearing one of Beel’s helmets, even though it was way too big on them.

Ah, Belphie knew what they were doing. They were heading home from one of Beel’s games.

Belphie’s eyes were glued to MC and Beel. Beel was… smiling. He was happy. He didn’t notice his picture was being taken and he was looking slightly off-camera. One of his arms was holding one of MC’s legs in place so they wouldn’t topple backwards.

Belphegor felt the DDD slip out of his hands and clatter to the floor, he walked back over to MC. They were still breathing, and Belphie blinked a few times to make sure he was seeing right. The tiny cuts from his claws had completely healed over, and the swelling around MC’s neck had slightly lessened. They were being healed…

He kneeled down next to them and reached out to touch their head, he hesitated for a brief moment before letting his hand rest on their hair. A softer magic ran through his hands, MC’s breathing became less laborious and their throat slowly began to fix itself.

Belphie suppressed a yawn at the exertion, he picked MC up and carried them downstairs. They were still completely unconscious. That was good, Belphie heard that humans healed faster in their sleep anyway.

He set them down gently on one of the living room couches and walked back upstairs. Even as he lay back down in his bed, Belphie still couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

——

Lucifer dragged Mammon and Levi up the stairs to the House of Lamentation by their ears, Satan, Asmo, and Beel trailing behind him.

“You both are so lucky Lord Diavolo wasn’t upset.” Lucifer growled.

Levi was in his admiral’s uniform, but it was so wrinkled and smelly that anyone could tell it had been lying at the back of his closet. Mammon was still in his school uniform and was trying to wiggle out of the ear-hold.

“C-come on Lucifer! Ya gotta understand, I can’t get hung from the ceiling today, I have a modelling gig!” Mammon pleaded.

“Y-yeah! There’s a rerun of I Can’t Believe My Girlfriend’s Secretly Been Royalty-eeeeow!” Levi screeched and tried in vain to remove Lucifer’s hand from his ear.

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “You two should have thought about that before you and Levi decided it would be a good idea to get into a fight in front of Diavolo and Barbatos.”

“What a functional family we have.” Satan drawled.

Mammon and Levi’s pleas for mercy quieted when everyone stepped into the house, something was… wrong. Very very wrong.

“MC?” Lucifer called out. No reply. He let go of Mammon and Levi.

“Blood…”

Lucifer turned to look at Beel, who had his nose in the air. “What was that, Beel?”

“Smells like blood.”

Everyone stood motionless for a few moments as what Beel said began to sink in. Mammon was the first to break the silence.

“Shit, MC!” He shouted, rushing towards the dining hall.

“MC? MC come on,” Asmo sped towards the bedrooms. “If this is some kind of joke it isn’t funny!”

“M-maybe they’re in the backyard! I’ll check…” Levi ran to the back door of the house.

Satan and Beel went in the direction of the library while Lucifer stalked towards the living room.

If MC was playing some kind of joke on him, he’d wring their neck.

He entered the living room and breathed an immediate sigh of relief upon seeing MC lying on one of the couches, sleeping soundly. They were just napping…

Lucifer’s lips quirked upwards into a fond smile as he ruffled his sleeping child’s hair, then paused upon seeing the rusty substance that now coated his glove. Mostly dried blood.

“MC..?” He whispered, sitting down on the couch and pulling them towards him. “MC?”

When MC didn’t respond, Lucifer’s heart began to race in his chest.

No.

No.

Not again.

Not like Lilith…

“MC, wake up,” Lucifer said in a more commanding tone. “You’re okay, wake up, right now!”

They didn’t stir, they just lay there. Their breathing and his own thundering heartbeat was all Lucifer could hear.

A shriek from Asmodeus brought him back to reality as Lucifer slowly rocked MC back and forth, muttering the names of spells as he tried to use his magic to heal them.

“What happened?!” Asmo rushed forward, hands already glowing white with magic.

Lucifer couldn’t give an answer nor could he look away from MC as Asmodeus ran a glowing hand along their head.

Asmo snapped his hand back towards him like something had burned him, he looked up at Lucifer with a look of pure confusion. “L-Lucifer… do you know whose magical signature that is..?”

“H-huh?! MC?!” Mammon, followed by Satan, Beel, and Levi rushed to MC’s side. The chorus of questions and shock were of no interest to Lucifer, he continued to cradle MC in his lap.

“Lucifer!” Asmo tried to get his attention again, he growled and whipped his head around to his other brothers. “ALL OF YOU, QUIET!”

Such a sharp snarl from Asmo of all demons immediately quieted them down as Asmo turned back to look at Lucifer. “It’s Belphie. That’s Belphie’s magical signature. I’d bet my life on it.”

Lucifer felt his blood run cold, his grip on MC tightened as he pulled them closer to him.

“Belphie is up in the human world, Asmo!” Satan snapped. “How the hell could he have done this?!”

“I don’t know!” Asmo retorted. “But I’m not lying, that’s Belphie’s magic!”

Belphegor got out of the attic.

Belphegor hurt MC.

Lucifer gently set MC back down on the couch, in a matter of seconds his true form was revealed.

“L-Lucifer…” Mammon whispered.

Watch them.” Lucifer growled. He turned and stalked down the hallway towards the attic.

When he burst through the door to the attic staircase the first thing that hit him was the residual magic energy that practically coated the room. His spell keeping his brothers from being able to enter the attic, the spell that hid Belphie from view if they somehow managed to bypass the first spell, and finally most hauntingly, was the spell that kept Belphie sealed in the attic. All of them were dispelled by a counter spell from an all too familiar magic signature.

MC broke the spells.

Lucifer stormed up the stairs and down the hall to where Belphie was supposed to be, the stench of magic and blood got even stronger as he approached the open door.

He stood in the doorway, Belphie was sitting on the bed, hugging his knees, he looked over at Lucifer. The two stared each other down, Belphie’s expression held no malice or anger, it was glassy and far off, like he wasn’t even there. Belphegor wasn’t close enough to see, but Lucifer’s pupils had retracted and stretched.

“Lucifer.”

“What have you done?”

There was no triumph or glee in Belphegor’s voice, it was hollow and empty.

“I ruined the exchange program like I said I would.”

—————

MC’s eyes fluttered open, they expected to wake up to the sound of their DDD alarm buzzing and telling them to wake up for school, but the intense soreness of their neck snapped them back to reality. They were in their father’s room, lying on his bed.

“Ah!” MC rasped, a hand flying to their neck to pull off the hand that was just wrapped around it.

Their thoughts raced. Why were they here? Where was Belphegor? Why weren’t they dead?!

“MC..?”

MC lurched upwards whipped their head back and forth to find the source of the voice. They didn’t have to look very far, Lucifer was sitting next to them with a clipboard and notebook on his lap.

“D-dad?” MC felt tears prick at their eyes, the events of the day crashing down on them all at once. They let out a sob and buried their head in Lucifer’s chest.

Lucifer held MC close, If he wasn’t a demon, the grip MC had on him would have crushed him.

“Sh, it’s okay, you’re okay. You’re safe now.” It sounded to MC like Lucifer was trying to reassure himself as much as he was trying to reassure them.

It hurt to cry, every sound and heavy gulp of air made MC’s neck and ribs throb with pain, every tiny movement of their arms made them want to cry even harder. The only silver lining was that it was less of a sharp recent pain and more of a reminder of a much older injury. The sped up healing courtesy of multiple spells must have aided in that regard.

“I’m sorry…” They whimpered, choking out another sob. “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry…”

“MC, what on earth are you sorry for?”

MC sniffled before explaining. “I… I-I let him out of the attic… I didn’t listen when you said not to go up there…he said he wanted t-to fix everything… I just wanted to h-help…”

Lucifer hugged them tighter, it hurt a little, but MC didn’t care.

“I’m sorry…” MC whimpered again. “I’m so so sorry…”

“Shh,” Lucifer whispered. “It’s not your fault. I should have been there. I should have…”

Lucifer trailed off and the two fell silent, save for the occasional sniffle or hiccup from MC.

Despite all the reassurances, the guilt didn’t go away, but what was worse was the fear. Every cell in MC’s body seemed to be screaming at them for their sheer stupidity. They had let Belphegor almost kill them, and their failure to fight him off had been made known to the entire house.

MC’s shaking slowly subsided and they pulled away slightly. “H-how did I live through that? How am I okay..? He said he was going to kill me…” MC let out another sob and touched their neck. “What kind of demon am I if I can’t even protect myself?”

“MC, look at me,” Lucifer instructed, MC shakily complied. “You have nothing to be sorry for. None of this was your fault, this fight has been brewing for thousands of years and you just got caught in the crossfire. You’re still a child, there’s no shame in being hurt by a demon thousands of years older that caught you off guard and deceived you.”

MC nodded, wiping their tears with their sleeve. Lucifer did his best to smile comfortingly.

“Besides,” He helped wipe MC’s tears away. “I don’t think any other demon in this house has enough magical power to break all three spells I had in place at once. You’re not weak, MC, nor are you any less of a demon.”

A meow broke its way into the conversation, Bean nestled himself into MC’s lap and began to purr.

“I thought...” MC sniffled, then smiled. “I thought you didn’t want Bean in your room.”

“I’ll make an exception for today.”

“Careful, Father,” MC laughed between hiccups. “Cerberus might think his favourite demon likes the cat more than him.”

“You might be right, and we don’t want to give Cerberus another reason to want to eat the cat.”

MC giggled, then winced at the pain in their neck. Lucifer sighed and pulled them into another hug.

“Asmodeus said that you’ll be back to normal in a few days or less.” Lucifer whispered. “You’ll be okay.”

“Are… are you going to be okay?” MC asked.

Lucifer didn’t respond for a moment, then sighed.

“I will be.”

After a while of absentmindedly petting the cat and leaning on their father’s arm, MC finally asked the question that had been on their mind since they had woken up.

“What happened to Belphegor?”

“He’s with Beel right now.” Lucifer replied, MC half nodded as they stared blankly at the opposite wall.. “He’s not going to hurt you again, I can promise you that.”

“Mm…” MC mumbled, they took a deep breath and braced themselves. “I’m sorry for being such an idiot…”

“MC-”

“No, I messed up,” a lump formed in MC’s throat as they continued. “Beel, Belphie, and I ran away after Belphie escaped the attic the first time… Lord Diavolo found us and took Belphie, I-I made Beel go back to get all of you so I c-could sneak into Barbatos’ room and fix everything…”

MC hiccuped and rubbed at their already puffy eyes. “I just made everything worse…”

Lucifer sighed and absentmindedly clicked his pen. “I know. Barbatos and Diavolo came over before you woke up and explained everything.”

“What about the other future?” MC sniffed.

“According to Barbatos, he merged it with this one.” Lucifer said. “He said that we’ll be getting small batches of memories from that timeline, but that’s it.”

MC blankly nodded again. Their head was filled with emotions and questions they just didn’t have the strength to deal with. It didn’t help that every single one of their limbs felt heavy as lead and they just wanted to go back to sleep.

“Do you need anything, MC?”

“Music would be nice.”

Lucifer smiled and got up to turn on the record player. “Cursed or not?”

——

Belphie was still in the attic. He lay in the bed in the midst of the destroyed room. Nothing was keeping him locked away up there, the door hadn’t closed since MC unlocked it earlier. Despite it all, Belphie didn’t want to leave. Not after what happened earlier.

Lucifer was fully ready to kill him. It had taken Beel, Levi, and Mammon using their full strength to actually hold Lucifer back.

But the hours had passed, Beel had left, Mammon and Levi could barely even look at him, Asmo and Satan hadn’t even come to see him. The youngest had ruined everything, and all he had left to keep him company was the lingering feeling of regret.

“Belphegor.”

Belphie didn’t open his eyes at the sound of his name. He felt a sudden weight on his chest, making it harder to breathe. He was no stranger to sleep paralysis and the unexplainable horrors that often followed, but his thousands of years of experience never could have prepared him for what he saw when he opened his eyes.

Lilith.

Her face was just as he remembered it, her eyes were just as bright and full of life as they were thousands of years ago. Her downy wings were open and fluttered slightly, and to Belphie’s horror, the wound from the arrow that pierced her right wing was still fresh.

But that was all, there were no remnants of the scars that coated her arms and neck from the war, no defeated look of resigned despair…

It was Lilith, just as Belphie remembered her.

She glared at her brother with a rage he hadn’t seen in millennia. She had his shirt balled up in her fists as she asked her first question.

“What the hell were you thinking!?” The pain and agony in her voice when she asked nearly caused Belphie to cry. “Why did you do that?!”

Belphegor couldn’t respond, he just stared up at the ghostly form of his sister. Her glare hardened.

“I didn’t help MC break those spells for you to… do something like this!”

Her form flickered for the briefest of moments, instead of a halo and wings, a dragon-like tail and thin curved horns took their place, Lilith’s eyes darkened and her nails grew longer and sharper before she flickered back to the form Belphegor recognized.

“L-Lilith?” Belphie whispered, she rolled her eyes.

“Using my death as an excuse for that…” She trailed off, her grip on Belphie’s shirt tightening. “You’re terrible! You really are!”

Terrible? Lilith’s childlike way of chiding people for their misdeeds hadn’t changed a bit. Belphie half expected her to cross her arms and puff out her cheeks like a petulant kid.

“What do you mean?”

“MC!” She growled, flickering back to the unfamiliar demon form. “They weren’t involved! They had nothing to do with me! NOTHING!”

“They’re… they’re half human!”

Belphie’s pitiful attempts to justify his actions to Lilith and himself fell flat as the tight knot of guilt in his gut only grew.

“And I’m stuck like this!” Lilith cried, she flickered back and forth from her angelic and demonic forms, her wounds from the war returning and disappearing as she switched back and forth. “Stuck between being an angel and a demon! But you’d have me back in an instant, wouldn’t you?”

She was right, Belphie would have given anything to have his sister back in any form. Angel, demon, human…

“You can’t stop and think for one moment that the humans had nothing to do with my death?!”

“That human was the reason the war even started!” Belphie retorted, trying to push Lilith’s hands off of his shirt. “He’s the reason why you were in trouble in the first place!”

“No he wasn’t! It was me! I made that decision, not him!” Lilith hissed. “You know what you’ve been doing for the past how many millennia? Looking for someone to blame! Looking for someone to hate that you have actual power over! You don’t have power over the Celestial Realm, you don’t have power over father, but you do have power over humans. You hate them because it’s convenient, and MC paid the price for it!”

Belphie shook his head. “That's not true!”

“Then why?!” Lilith snarled. “Why do you hate them so much?! Why don’t you hate the angels with that much ferocity?! What did MC ever do to you other than try and help you?!”

Every accusation hit him like a hammer to the skull. His head throbbed with every single thing Lilith accused him of, no matter how much he denied it, he knew it was true. Every last word.

“Just..!” Lilith’s rage morphed into something much more quiet and fragile, she slowly curled into herself and shook her head. “Just… why? Why haven’t you been able to move on?”

Belphie felt tears prick at the corner of his vision. “You were our sister. They were just going to… just going to kill you like it was nothing. We promised we’d protect you and you died anyway…. and it was all my fault.”

“Belphie…”

“If I had never taken you to the human world this never would have happened…”

“So what?”

“H-huh?”

“So what?” Lilith repeated. “It’s over now. It’s been over and done with for thousands of years. You need to let it go.”

“But-”

“My death wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t Beel’s, and it wasn’t any human’s. We tried to fight the person who was responsible and…” She trailed off, then quickly shook her head and returned her stare to her brother.

“H-how,” Belphie mumbled. “How are they all going to forgive me..?”

Lilith grimaced and shook her head. “I have no idea. Just… try. Try and fix this...”

Belphie sighed and nodded. “I will.”

Lilith finally smiled. Her new tail swished through the air behind her as she slowly faded away.

“Thank you.”

————

Author’s note:

May the muse Calliope have pity on my poor soul, this has been a WIP in my Google Docs SINCE PART 3 OF THE HALF DEMON SERIES CAME OUT.

I hope you all liked the angst… I’m not too proud of my skills in writing the big sad (tm) yet, buuuuut this is ✨ progress ✨, so I’m not going to self deprecate! I’m thinking of doing a version where it’s M!MC or A!MC instead of L!MC, because I know that Belphie and the kids would react very differently to the whole attempted murder thing…

But for now, I must bid you all adieu. I’m going to eat a pint of Ben and Jerry’s.

#Obey me #Obey me! #obey me shall we date #obey me! shall we date? #obey me headcanons #Obey me fic #Obey me Lucifer #Obey me Mammon #Obey me Leviathan #obey me Lilith #Obey me Satan #Obey me Asmodeus #Obey me Beel #obey me belphegor #Obey me MC #obey me! belphegor #obey me! satan #obey me! beelzebub #obey me! leviathan #Obey me! Lucifer #Obey me! Mammon #Obey me! Asmodeus #Obey me! Lilith

[ragingbookdragon]

Nightwing & The Niece Of Midnight

Dick Grayson x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 1.9K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: Aye, look who's back with a Dick fic? Get it? Dick fic? Cause I wrote Dick Grayson. No? Alright...enjoy! -Thorne

She glared at the tall man as she leaned against the pillar, her arms tightly crossed over her chest. “I don’t trust him,” she muttered. “I don’t trust him one bit.”

the man next to her glanced out of the corner of his eye and asked, “Who? Nightwing?” She nodded, causing him to laugh. “And why not? Everyone trusts Nightwing. Even the supervillains, sweets.”

She turned her glare from the said man to the one next to her and bit, “That’s the exact reason. Who the fuck in their right—well, right might not be the word to use—mind trusts someone like him?”

He crossed his arms, turning to her. “What’s ‘someone like him’ mean?”

(Y/N) grunted, glowering at Nightwing, who was now laughing and leaning on the speedster that had tagged along on the mission. “Someone who goes around grinning like an idiot all the time. He’s too happy. Too…nice.”

“So, you don’t like him because he’s nice to everyone?”

She eyed him and muttered, “I don’t like or trust someone who’s not selfish in some way. Everyone is selfish. It’s in our DNA.” (Y/N) paused, looking back at the onyx haired man. “Besides, he’s annoying to look at.”

The man beside her hummed in amusement, quipping, “I don’t know about that…he’s very pretty.”

(Y/N) blinked, glancing at him, and deadpanned, “Lucas. You’re married.”

He grinned, pearly whites flashing her way. “Andrew thinks Nightwing is good looking too.”

(Y/N) exhaled through her nose and griped, “I hate you both.”

Lucas barked a laugh, and threw an arm around her neck, pulling her close to him. “Well, that hurts my feelings, niece.”

She yelped, trying to pull away, but he held on, nuzzling the side of her face. “Ow you asshat! You’re scratching my cheek with your scruff!”

“I know!”

“I’m gonna tell Uncle Andrew if you don’t let go!”

“Ooo like I’m scared of the man I sleep next to at night!”

“I’m gonna plant my foot so far inside your as—”

“Hey Midnighter! Athena! Are you gonna keep fooling around or are you gonna join the mission briefing?”

(Y/N) turned her gaze to Nightwing, who wore a grin, and her lips tugged downwards as she shoved against Lucas.

He got the hint, letting her go, and turned to Nightwing, a smirk on his lips as he replied, “Who needs a mission briefing when you’ve got the two best mission wingers on the team?”

“Because of that exact point, Midnighter.” Nightwing waved them over. “Come on. We’ve got work to do.”

(Y/N) felt Lucas nudge her back and she begrudgingly moved her feet, muttering, “I hate him.”

Lucas hummed, fiddling with the royal blue cape she wore. “You’ll live. He’s not that bad, (Y/N). He really is a good person.”

She yanked the cape from his grip and swished it around her body. “I’ll be the judge of that one,” she declared.

***

The two crept along the hallway, (Y/N) leading, Nightwing following close behind. She felt along the wall and murmured, “I’m not feeling any type of vibrations, so it’s safe to say that the rooms are empty.”

“Can you hear anything?”

She rolled her eyes, adjusting the spartan helm she wore. “I don’t have super-hearing, Nightwing.”

“Really? I thought that because your powers were so similar to Apollo’s, that you would. What differences in his and your powers are there, (Y/N)?”

She whirled around, faster than he could react, shoving him up against the wall; his eyes widened behind his domino mask, whereas hers narrowed behind the golden helmet. “I don’t know how close you are with your other teammates, but rest assured, you and I aren’t. Don’t ever use my name during a mission. That’s how people’s identities get discovered and that’s how people get hurt. During missions—you know what, during anytime you see me, it’s Athena and that’s it. Do you understand?”

He blinked in shock, then nodded quietly. (Y/N) stared at for a moment, then released him, turning on her heel and continuing down the hallway.

He walked behind her, staying silent for a few minutes, then he quietly asked, “Why don’t you trust me, Athena?”

(Y/N) grunted, opening a door, and slipped inside. “The reasons for distrust are irrelevant.”

He cast a quick glance down the hallway before leaning against the doorway, watching her survey the room. “I think in order for us to work together, we need to trust each other.”

(Y/N) barked a laugh and turned to face him. “Is that what you think?” He nodded, making her laugh again. “Nightwing, trust is an overrated commodity…so long as we can agree to not let each other die, then that’s all we need to understand.” She walked past him, stopping until they were side by side. “Trust that.”

Nightwing once again followed her to the end of the hallway, then said, “Your uncles trust me…actually, now that I think about it, most people do. You seem to be the only one who doesn’t.”

“My uncles are their own people. I can’t make them believe what they want or don’t want to.”

“Did I do something to you that I’m unaware of? If I did, let me know so I can try and make it right.”

“No.”

“No, I can’t make it right or no I didn’t do anything?”

“You did nothing to me.”

“Then why don’t you like me?”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes as she fiddled with a control panel. “Will you shut up and stop asking questions, Nightwing? I’m not here to play twenty questions with you.”

He glared at her back, crossing his arms over his chest; he was getting irritated with her. “Then what are you doing here? If you don’t like me or the team, why are you on it?”

“Because my uncle asked me to come.”

“Did he want you to make friends with the other kids because you don’t have any of your own?”

(Y/N) clicked her tongue, turning around to face him, a glower in her eyes. “Have you ever been thrown through six consecutive cinderblock walls? Because if you keep babbling, that’s exactly what’s going to happen.”

He leaned forward, getting in her face. “Do I look like I’m scared of you?”

“Can I ask you a question, Nightwing?” He blinked, not expecting her question, but waved for her to continue. “Do you know why they gave the name ‘Apollo’ to my uncle?” He shook his head. “Apollo is the sun god. He’s strong and powerful, something my uncle is. I mean, just look at the feats he’s accomplished. But do you know why they’ve named me, ‘Athena’?”

(Y/N) leaned in closely, the faceplate barely brushing his skin as she whispered, “Athena is the goddess of wisdom, war, and military victory—something I like to refer to as, strategy. There’s a reason I’m referred to as one of the deadliest anti-heroes alive. No one escapes the battlefield alive when it’s under my control.” She searched his hardened blue eyes and questioned, “You’re not scared of me?” (Y/N) hummed, then she threatened, “You should be.”

She pulled away and hit the blinking panel, watching as the door opened before them, then slipped inside, leaving him standing there stunned.

***

She hissed curses as she slipped down the snowy hillside towards the edge, the sounds of her uncle’s screams in her ears. “Shit-Shit-Shit!”

Her hands fumbled in the snow, grasping at anything to stop the sliding, but she grabbed nothing. Her gaze darted over her shoulder a moment, taking in the cliff and the drop below, and as she reached the edge and slid over, time seemed to slow down. Her heart pounded in her chest as her body went light, and she began to drop. As she began to drop, a hand shot out over the edge, gripping her wrist guard.

She gasped in shock, looking up to see Nightwing leaning over the edge, his eyes wide as he exclaimed, “I’ve got you!”

(Y/N) nodded breathlessly, grabbing at his arm with her other hand, her feet pushing against the cliff wall. He strained, a grunt passing his lips as he pulled hard, tugging her over. They collapsed into the snow, (Y/N) resting against his chest, his arms wound tight around her.

One of his hands caressed the exposed skin on her back, and he comforted quietly, “It’s alright…you’re okay…you’re safe.” (Y/N) stayed silent, her heart still pounding against her ribcage at the scare; he leaned back a bit, a hand coming up to cup her cheek. “Hey, Athena…are you okay?”

She met his eyes, and nodded, whispering, “…Thank you, Nightwing.”

He flashed her a smile, murmuring, “Dick.”

(Y/N) recoiled, anger flashing in her eyes as she fumed, “Excuse me?!”

Recognition shot across his face, and he shook his head, stammering, “N-no! My name! It’s Dick!”

She paused, rage dissipating as she remarked, “Oh…oh, that’s what you meant…I thought you were insulting me.”

He chuckled and nodded. “Don’t worry, you’re not the first who’s reacted like that.” (Y/N) hummed, and he looked back at her, smirk dropping into a small smile. “You know, you hide a beautiful face behind that Spartan helmet you wear.”

Her hands shot up to her head, and she grimaced as she realized her helm was gone. “Motherfu—that was the only helm I had.”

Dick tipped his head side to side, helping her to her feet. “You know, I’m friends with an Amazon who’s probably got an extra set of Greek armor stored away somewhere…if you’d like to come with me?”

(Y/N) tugged at the cape she wore, curling it around her body, lips pulling a frown. “If I didn’t know any better, it seems like you’re trying to be my friend.”

Dick grinned, nudging her arm. “I’m just trying to prove I can be trusted…is that such a bad thing?”

(Y/N) walked off, her feet sinking into the snow as she climbed. “No…it’s not.”

When she hit the top of the hill, she was pulled into a hug by her uncle, and she grunted as he squeezed her. “I’m fine, uncle.”

He shook his head, squeezing her tighter. “Nope! I watched you take a dive off a cliff, we are hugging!”

(Y/N) inhaled, patting his back. “There, there, uncle…let go.”

After a moment, he did, holding her face in his palms. “You scared me.”

“Sorry…I slipped.”

Before she could say anything, a smirk worked onto his lips and he quipped, “But Nightwing saved you. See…told you he’s a good guy.”

(Y/N) grunted at him, flipping her cape as she walked off. “I’m leaving.”

“You swoon! You sigh! Why deny it oh-oh!”

“I hate you.”

“Now don’t be proud! It’s okay, you’re in love!”

“I am not, and we’re not discussing this anymore.”

“I wonder what Apollo will say?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

A ways back, Dick stood there, a smile on his lips as he watched the two family members go back and forth; he raised a hand to his ear, speaking quietly, “Hey B? You there?”

A moment later, a gruff voice sounded over the comm. What?

“Is there a regulation for Midnighter and Apollo’s niece in Gotham City?”

…Why?

Dick glanced back at (Y/N) who was holding Lucas in a headlock, humor across his face as rage flashed on hers. He chuckled and replied, “Because I’m thinking about inviting her over for a while.”

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x reader imagines #dick grayson x reader imagine #dick grayson imagines #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson x reader oneshot #dick grayson x reader one-shot #dick grayson oneshot #dick grayson one-shot #batfamily #batfamily x reader #dick grayson #nightwing #batman #bruce wayne #midnighter #lucas trent #apollo #andrew pulaski #dc comics #dc #dc imagine #dc imagines

[fruitcoops]

Can you write a thing about the first time remus looks into the stands during a game, and he realizes that people are holding up a sign for him, or wearing his jersey? i just need him to be so loved by the lions fans

Yes, yes, YES. He deserves all the fans, every single one. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove, but Annie is mine!

Remus still couldn’t believe it. He had already played three games with the team—as a player, a real-life, on-the-ice, paid-to-skate player—but it still felt like a dream every time he stepped into the rink. His parents had flown back home the previous day after a million and a half promises not to get hurt and to wear his mouthguard, and while Remus was used to them being gone, it felt different playing without them in the stands.

He fist-bumped Sirius on the way out of the locker room and knocked the fronts of their helmets together; his ‘captain mode’ had already taken over, but Remus still saw a smile as he passed. “Let’s go!” James whooped as the roar of the fans ahead deafened them.

Remus grinned, wild and broad, as his pulse picked up and adrenaline burned hot in his throat. Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go. The ice was smooth beneath his skates, made perfect just for them—he did one loop around the goal, two, and a third before snagging a puck and lining up across from James for a quick passing game. The rhythm soothed him; his wrists relaxed. Let’s go.

Talker whacked the backs of his legs as he passed and Remus checked him lightly, earning himself a bark of laughter. “Watch it, Loops!”

“Square up, Talkie!”

“Careful, you’ve gotta set a good example for your admirers,” he teased.

Remus paused, bewildered. “What?”

Talker tilted his chin toward the row of seats to the right and Remus turned, only to stop cold as red and gold filled his vision. There were jerseys for James, Sirius, Kasey, Finn, Kuny—

And him.

Dead center in a group of kids was a young girl with two missing front teeth, jumping up and down in excitement. The bright 6 on her jersey shone like new and she waved to him with both hands. To him, as if he was some sort of hero.

Her eyes widened when she saw him watching, and though her shriek was lost in the noise of the crowd, her joy reverberated through the plexiglass. He was moving before his brain caught up to his skates; in his gloves, his hands had begun to shake. “Hi!” he called, crouching down to her level with a tentative wave.

She whipped around and grabbed a woman—her mother, perhaps—by the hand, pulling with all the strength in her body.

“Hi,” Remus said again. He was too stunned to think of anything witty.

She beamed at him and pressed both palms to the glass, speaking too fast for him to hear. He glanced up to the woman next to her. You’re her favorite, she mouthed.

“Me?” He looked back to the little girl and pointed to himself, and she nodded frantically. “I like your jersey!”

She bounced on her toes and held the front of it out for him to see; he grabbed a stray puck off the ice, nearly fumbling it in his hurry.

“One second!” He held up one finger to make sure she understood before skating as fast as he could to the bench and snagging a silver pen from the collection, yanking his glove off with his teeth and signing his name. He didn’t have an official signature or anything—sloppy cursive would have to do. He tossed the pen toward his seat, not sparing any of his racing thoughts to wonder whether it landed.

The girl lit up when he returned, and her dark eyes grew huge when she saw the puck.

“For you!” he said as loud as he could, pointing to her. He gave her a clear count of three before tossing it over the boards; she caught it, almost dropped it, then hugged it close to her chest. Her whole face folded and tears began pouring down her cheeks. Remus’ heart plummeted.

His horror must have shown on his face, because the kid’s mother waved to get his attention and shook her head with a smile. She’s happy, she said. At least, Remus hoped he was reading her lips right. The little girl stepped back to the glass and shouted ‘thank you’ loud enough that he heard her through the glass.

“You’re welcome!” Remus yelled back, giving her a thumbs-up. He gestured toward the tunnel. “Come over after the game, okay?”

The kid looked to her mother, who smiled, then turned back to Remus and nodded enthusiastically. He high-fived her through the glass and headed back to the team, still grinning like an idiot.

“Head in the game, Loops!” Logan laughed.

“She’s got my jersey,” he said, running through his drills on muscle memory, lighter than air. “Tremzy, she had my jersey.”

“Who?”

He pointed to the gang of children; his fan was still near the front, clutching her puck. “Aw, Loops,” Logan cooed. “You’ve got a secret admirer.”

“She’s got my jersey,” he repeated.

Logan’s smile turned soft and he nudged him. “You’re part of the team, remember? Always have been, always will be.”

“Part of the team,” Remus muttered absentmindedly.

“Now come on, Lightning McQueen, we need you!” Logan smacked him on the helmet and took off, cackling. Remus rolled his eyes, though he didn’t lose the floaty feeling for the rest of warmups.

-------------------------------------

They won the game. Remus broke the land-speed record showering and all but sprinted to the mouth of the tunnel, sending a silent prayer up that the kid’s mom knew where to go. Come on, come on—

There.

She was still bouncing on her toes, though it looked more like she was searching for someone. The mother saw him first, and gently turned her around; Remus tried to stay calm and collected when she gasped loud enough that he heard it ten feet away.

“Hey, kiddo,” he said, crouching down to her level.

“Hi,” she squeaked.

“What’s your name?”

“This is Annie,” her mother informed him after a moment of silence.

“Nice to meet you, Annie. Nice jersey.” Her round cheeks flushed bright pink. “Did you know you’re the very first person I’ve seen wearing my number?”

She finally blinked. “Really?”

“Yep. It made my day.”

“You’re my favorite,” she blurted.

“Thanks,” he laughed. “Not a lot of people cheer for the rookies, so that means a lot.”

“You’re the fastest one on the team, and—and my mama says you’re really smart ‘cause you were on the bench an’ I know people were mean about you on the team but I don’t think that’s fair because you and Pots and Cap are the best line ever and yeah.” The flood of words left her a little breathless. “Yeah. Oh, and six is my lucky number.”

“Mine, too. Do you play hockey?”

“I want to. I think I’m too short.”

Remus felt his heart twist a little. “Annie, I was the shortest, scrawniest kid on my team until I was seventeen. You can do whatever you want to do. Don’t let anyone tell you different, okay?”

She stared at him for a long moment, then launched herself forward and threw her arms around his neck. “Annalise!” her mother gasped.

“It’s okay,” Remus assured her, holding down a laugh as he balanced himself to gently return her hug. “My little brother does this all the time.”

“You’ve gotta win the Cup this year,” Annie said—demanded, really—as she stepped back.

“I’ll do my best,” he promised. A mob of reporters hurried down the hallway toward the locker room, and he caught several staring at them as they passed. “Alright, I think that’s my cue to go.”

“What do you say?” Annie’s mother prompted quietly.

Annie smiled at him, brighter than sunshine. “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome. Thanks for coming to the game, and drive safe.”

“We will.”

People liked him. They liked him, he was someone’s favorite. It was an astounding thought, and he only paid half-attention to the few interview questions that went his way. Some of the hashtags he had seen were awful—many people were calling favoritism, and the number of rude DMs seemed to increase every day—but the look of pure happiness on Annie’s face when he passed her a simple puck made them insignificant.

Who cared what assholes thought when he could make someone smile like that?

“What’s on your mind?” Sirius asked as they headed home, exhausted.

Remus shook his head, unable to keep his grin off his face. “She had my jersey.”

#remus lupin #sirius black #logan tremblay #thomas walker #james potter #my fic #fanfic #lumosinlove #sweater weather #oc #coops

[minniethemoocherda]

Five Times Din and Luke Needed Saving Plus One Time That They Didn't.

Summery:  Last year had been pretty hectic for Luke Skywalker. Between discovering that the old hermit that lived at the bottom of the street was actually his uncle, that the girl his maths class was his long lost twin sister and not only is his dad alive but also head of the mafia. Luke was grateful that this year, his biggest worry would be his school play. That was until Din Djarin came along.

Ao3

FF.net

"Don't forget your script!" Luke's uncle called out as he jumped out of the old car. 

"Thanks Be- I mean Obi-Wan!" Luke said. It was strange after sixteen years of knowing him as Ben to call the man something else. But Luke gladly made the effort to call him by his real name now that it was safe to do so, as he knew it made the old man happy. Sure enough, he spotted Obi-Wan’s fond smile as he grabbed his folder from where he'd left it on the back seat. 

Along with his twin, Luke waved goodbye as their uncle drove out of the school parking lot. 

"Please promise me you'll remember your actual lines." Leia scolded him as soon as the car was out of sight. 

"I will, don't worry." Luke said, flashing her a promising smile as they headed across the parking lot towards the main building. 

Built in the nineteen-forties out of three stories old red brick, Coruscant High was one of the oldest buildings in the town. A lot of Luke's friends complained about the confusing layout and corridors to nowhere but personally Luke found oddities endearing. It was amazing how much history could fit into just one building as as annoying as it sometimes was when he was trying to get to geography but ended up in science, Luke liked that you didn't always know what was around each corner. It reminded him a lot of the land of Oz from their play. They were doing the Wizard of Oz this year. 

Last year had been pretty hectic for him. Between discovering that the kind old hermit that lived with his husband at the bottom of the street was actually his uncle, that the stubbornly annoying girl in his maths class was his long lost twin sister. Not to mention that not only is his dad alive but also the secret enforcer to the head of the mafia. You know, just your regular teenage drama. 

Luke was grateful that this year, his biggest worry would be remembering his lines for the school play. Hopefully. 

As they came out of the parking lot, Luke noticed a crowd gathered around the bike shed. From the rhythmic chanting and and held up fists, he knew it had to be a fight. One of those involved was clearly Boba with his distinctly impractical green and red motorcycle helmet. But from this distance, it was hard to make out who the other party was. 

"What idiot gets into a fight before school has even started?" Leia grumbled, as though her record for getting into trouble wasn't first period. 

Luke was about to tell her as much, when the crowd parted enough from to catch a glimpse of a lanky, fluffy haired boy with a scar on his chin. 

"Never tell me the odds!" Han shouted before punching the side of Boba's helmet with his bare fist. 

"Oh god its my idiot." Leia muttered. She ran off towards the bike shed and Luke had to hurry to catch up with her. 

Plastered onto the side of the building, the bikes shed was in the shadows from any teacher interference. Which was probably why it was dripping with graffiti and appeared to be the preferred hang out of the kids belonging to that motorbike gang. The Mandalorians if Luke remembered correctly. 

That didn't stop the crowd from parting as soon as they were aware of Leia's presence. Luke was impressed, although with the reputation of her right hook, he really shouldn't have been.  

Despite clutching his hand to his chest in pain, Han was still screaming promises of violence at Boba who, even with his helmet on, seemed more amused than angered at the situation. That only appeared to anger Han more who made an attempt to swing at him with his limp wrist again. 

Leia grabbed Han before he had the chance to make contact, yanking his arm away. Luke took advantage of Han's shock to get been him and his opponent. 

However, something must have snapped inside  Boba because now he was also mid swing, when Luke got him front of him. Luke squeezed his eyes shut and threw up his forearms, trying to remember what Obi-Wan had taught him about self defence. 

But the hit never came. 

Slowly Luke opened his eyes. Through his raised forearms, he caught sight of Boba being hauled away. A boy with a similar looking helmet, had his arms locked around the bikers waist, dragging him away, kicking and screaming. 

Across the school yard, Luke vaguely heard the familiar yells of Principal Mothma. Someone must have finally ratted to a teacher about the fight. As the rest of the students scrambled away, Luke was frozen still, staring with amazement, as the boy hauled the pair back to their motorbikes. This was far from the first time Luke had witnessed Boba in fight. He knew first hand just how strong he was. It would take someone with at least equal strength to take him down. 

It was hard to make out who the person was underneath the helmet and leather jacket, but as the morning sun finally crossed far enough west to light up the thin visor, Luke could make out a pair of deep brown eyes. 

"Move it!" Leia yelled, startling  Luke from his daze. She still had Han's arm in a death grip as she dragged his ass towards the school building "I will not be late for Mr Se's class because of you two again!" 

Luke shook his head and turned to follow her. His twin would never forgive him if he missed another rehearsal because he got detention. Plus he didn't want Han to get into more trouble with Leia than he already was. 

Thankfully, they made it to class just in time for the final bell to ring out. But even as Mr Se started rambling on about quadratic equations, Luke couldn't get those mysterious brown eyes out of his head. 

#dinluke #star wars #Luke Skywalker #boba fett #han solo #leia organa #the mandalorian #the book of boba fett #tbobf #tbb #scoundress #hanleia #tech tips #din x luke #bobannec #modern au #high school au #mon mothma #sins of the past

[butwhyduh]

If you're doing the writing prompts then could you do a dick grayson x reader for 'Betrayal by a lover to the enemy' but it isn't actual betrayal and she's just going undercover?

Warning: cursing, alludes to sexual activity, angst.

You ran as fast as you could on the rafters of the building. If you could just get to the window, you could escape. If luck was on your side, you could leave before Dick ever saw you. Batman, Robin, and Nightwing were fighting thugs down low. Your legs and lungs burned as you moved.

But you weren’t lucky. Far from.

You were yards from the edge when you were yanked to the foot path on your stomach. You groaned and tried to scramble away. Instead you were roughly flipped. Nightwing pinned you down and you struggled to free yourself.

It was all but useless. His legs were on either side of your legs holding them down. Dick’s hands grabbed your wrists and pushed them above your head to the concrete floor. You yelped in pain and wiggled and strained.

“You can’t get away. You’ve been working for Deathstroke. It’s time you get put away,” he said shifting your hold both wrists in one hand. You gasped and shook your head as he moved his hand down to your domino mask.

“No,” you moaned, trying your best to shake him off. It was no use. He was much larger, stronger, and, frankly, madder than you were. You knew you were going to have bruises on your wrist from his tight grip. He was going to know your identity.

Dick peeled the mask off and gasped. He froze but his grip never lessened. His eyes widened and his brow creased in confusion followed by pain. Your lips parted to speak but nothing came out.

“You? No...,” he said completely shocked. “Can’t be. Why... why would you hurt me?”

You had cut him shallowly a few weeks earlier because he got too close. You hated yourself for it but he hadn’t needed any stitches or anything. But at this moment, he probably meant the other pain you had caused, betrayal.

You closed your eyes and looked away. You couldn’t tell him. There was too much on the line. This mission was too secret. Not even Batman knew.

Dick stroked the side of your face and you quickly turned to look at him. “I loved you and you hurt me,” he said and the grip on your wrists tightened. You whimpered.

“You’re hurting me,” you gasped. His grip loosened slightly.

“I can’t believe you. I loved you,” he said and you noted the past tense of his words. This job just lost you your boyfriend. You clenched your jaw to stop from crying. It wouldn’t help anything to speak when you couldn’t say the truth.

“I love you,” you couldn’t help but say. Dick turned away and his jaw clenched in anger. His fingers tightened enough to hurt around your wrist. You whimpered.

“Not when you’re working with him,” he said. Dick reached for his pockets and pulled out cuffs, meta cuffs, and cuffed your wrists to the metal bar on the rafter. The use of meta cuffs showed that he had no trust in you any more. You had never shown any powers.

“You don’t understand,” your voice cracked.

“Tell me,” he demanded.

“I- I can’t,” you said, feeling defeated. Dick nodded roughly.

“Enjoy prison. Blackgate is nice this time of year,” Dick said but his usual quip sounded more angry. There was malice and pain in his voice and his eyes looked at you through rage.

“No,” you whispered. You pulled on the cuffs but knew it wasn’t going to help. They could tie up Superman if they needed to.

Dick climbed off of you and stood above you. You could see why Nightwing was an imposing looking hero now. There was no love, no happiness in his face. You were never going to get that back. You yanked at the cuffs with tears coming down your face.

“Don’t bother. GCPD will take care of you,” Dick said coldly.

“Dick, please,” you whimpered. “Please let me go. Please.”

He stared at you with his jaw clenched and face screwed up for a second before flipping off the rafters. You breathed a quick “no” before feeling terribly alone.

It was about a half hour later that police made it up to arrest you. They roughly shoved you in a cop car and to jail. You were placed in general population for 2 hours before finally getting pulled out. You were brought into a private room with the head in charge of the mission.

“What the hell? You make me go to the warehouse and get arrested? You knew they were there. I was identified by Nightwing,” you said bitterly. The officer shrugged.

“Get better at hiding your identity. You made bail and got out,” he said with a shrug. “Your mission is fine. Complete it and you can go back to a normal life.”

“No. I quit. I could have died. What if it was Red Hood and not Nightwing? I could have been shot,” you said furious.

“Sure. Your information might accidentally get leaked to the press is the only issue. And that might get you killed. You know? By Deathstroke,” he said nastily. Your mouth gaped. You were being blackmailed by the police. You understood why people said the police were worse than criminals. You thought they were the same.

“That’s what I thought,” he said with a satisfied sneer. “Get the fuck to a safe house tonight. And get the information on Deathstroke or you might end up dead. Also.... don’t get arrested by a dude in tights. It’s a shit ton of paperwork. Get the fuck out.”

He motioned to the door and you left. It was useless to argue. You should have compromised the mission. Dick should know. You should have told him. But the police would definitely snitch and you’d be on Deathstroke’s kill list and he didn’t get that name for nothing.

You scampered to your safe house where you changed and cried in the shower. You noticed small little bruises around your wrist from Dick and the cuffs. You wanted to call him, tell him what happened but Dick would have found you that way. And you weren’t sure he would believe you and might arrest you again.

Over the next 48 hours, you saw very little. They were worried that you were a snitch since being arrest. But GCPD didn’t seem to care. You got an angry text.

If you don’t have anything new within 24 hours, count your protection as cancelled.

You gulped as you read it. You didn’t want in this anyways. You’d have to be more dangerous, take more risks. It was truly going to be bad.

“Can I come?” You blurted. Deathstroke looked you over and you shivered. His helmet gave away nothing of his thoughts.

“Why?”

“I- I want to learn more. How to be better,” you said.

“You have your training,” he said dismissively.

“But can I come?” You asked. You were wanting to die, hu? No one questioned him. He turned completely back to face you.

“Fine. Clean up duty,” Deathstroke said. You nodded quickly but your heart sank. Clean up duty was usually helping to cut up and burn the bodies and you had been lucky to stay far away from that.

And that’s how you ended up, once again, in the rafters of the same building you have been caught by Dick only 3 days before. You weren’t a superstitious person but this felt bad. Deathstroke was somewhere else waiting for his target. You were watching and reporting. To Deathstroke and GCPD.

You sighted the target. But another worker was with him so Deathstroke didn’t take a shot. This target was a nasty guy. His ex wife’s boyfriend put out the hit and from what you read, you couldn’t blame him. Harassed the wife, hit the kid, and had a domestic violence rap sheet that was long. This guy liked to hit women and children.

As you lay on your stomach on the rafter, you felt a slight movement.

“I guess you like your job?” Dick said. You slowly turned. Your taser was in your hand. “But you didn’t learn your lesson.”

“Are you going to arrest me again,” you said feeling frozen. His jaw clenched again before he shook his head no.

“I should. Why do you do it? Money?” Dick said walking closer. You scrambled to your feet. Your taser was held tight in hand and you slowly backed away with every step he made towards you.

“It’s complicated,” you answered.

“Uncomplicate it. I’d like to know why the woman who slept in my fucking bed was working for my enemy.” He was white hot with rage. Dick sometimes had anger issues he took out on the bad guys he took down. He’d never done anything like that to you. But you weren’t his sweet girlfriend anymore. And his face was terrifying.

“I-“ you wavered on your resolve to the mission. Maybe he could help you.

“You what?” Dick asked and you felt cold metal of the end of the rafters against your ass. Your breathing was erratic.

“I’m-“ you started before pulling out your comms and smashing it in the ground. Dick’s eyebrows rose. “GCPD is blackmailing me. If I don’t get info on Deathstroke, they’ll release my files. He’ll kill me,” you said hanging your head in shame.

Dick froze. Despite his rage, he still loved you. He searched your face for a sign of lying but found none. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I could have helped you. Got you out. Goddamn it! I have so many connections. You didn’t trust me?” He finished with a realization. Dick looked over at you with a sad frown.

“I know your work is your life. I just... I just didn’t know. Dick, I fucked up,” you said miserably walking towards him. The distance felt so far away. He started backing away this time. “I love you.”

“Don’t,” Dick said and you stopped. Enough people had stolen his consent. You weren’t going to. “I can help you. But this,” he motioned between you both. “I don’t know.”

“Dick,” you whispered, half a second from crying. He shook his head and another step back. A week ago he looked at you so in love and now? He had a stony pained look. It broke your heart. You broke his heart.

——————————

One week ago

Dick lazily drew circles on your back as you laid on him. You both were nude, the air hot with your earlier activities despite being in the middle of a snow storm. You held his other hand in yours and you traced along scars and callouses. His palms had matching ones from swinging on a bar. He’d had those his whole life. The thumb had a ridge from training and using escrima sticks. An old divoted scar on the meat of his palm was from when he was a kid in the circus and tried to swing on an old swing set without checking it first. 7 stitches and weeks out of duty.

There was a healing cut along the backside of his hand that intersected multiple silvery healed scars. You touched along those, careful to avoid anything fresh. Dick looked down at you as you gently caressed his scars.

“What are you looking at, baby,” he said. His voice was rough with sleep. You were putting him to sleep.

“How much you’ve been through,” you said simply. He turned his head to look at your face better. “So rough but so kind.”

Dick smiled at that one and moved his hand to hold your cheek. He ran his thumb along your cheek and you leaned into his touch. “You’re thinking pretty deep, sweetheart. Penny for your thoughts?”

“I just love you,” you said, gazing into his eyes. Dick’s smile grew and he gave you a soft kiss.

“I love you too.”

It was soft, simple, kind. And to remind you that you were far from free, your phone rang. Only one person dared to call you at that hour. You climbed out of bed to answer it.

“Hello?”

“North Shore Docks. 2 hours,” came the rough voice before hanging up. You gulped before putting your phone down.

“What was that?” Dick asked.

“Wrong number. It’s nothing,” you said climbing back in bed. If you could get him to fall asleep, you could leave on time. He nodded before pulling you close. His heartbeat was slow and steady. He wasn’t nervous.

It was only 20 minutes later that he got a call. He hung up after a few minutes and turned to you with an apologetic look.

“Batman calls. I answer. I’m so sorry. I’ll make it up to you, okay?” He said. You felt guilt that you were relieved. You wouldn’t have to sneak out.

“What’s going on?”

“Down at the docks is supposed to be a meet up. Deathstroke. I’ve got to go. See if I can stop him. He’s got some new people working for him and maybe I can get some info from them,” Dick said climbing out of bed to pull on his suit. You nodded.

“Be safe. Stay warm,” you told him, knowing you were tipping Deathstroke off about the meeting so hopefully he’d call it off. He didn’t know you were dating Dick, neither did GCPD, but you could have gotten a tip from anywhere.

You stood in front of Dick without bothering to dress. He pulled your body flush against his and kissed you deeply. “I’m sorry, baby. Hopefully I’ll be back soon.”

You nodded and he flipped out of the top window of the loft. You waited 10 minutes before calling Deathstroke back.

“Batman has a tip off about the meeting. He’s coming and bringing friends,” you said. Deathstroke was silent on the phone.

“Meeting is next week. Same location. No batboys.” He hung up.

You peeled back a floorboard in your bedroom floor and pulled out a burner phone. You put the SIMs card in and turned it on. GCPD wanted a report and now was a good time. You called the only number on the phone.

“What?”

“The meeting is cancelled.”

“Why?”

“Deathstroke got spooked. That’s all I know,” you lied. Maybe you were getting too good at lying. He cursed.

“Anything else?”

“No. Not yet. I’ll call you,” you said.

“You fucking better,” he growled. You hung up and turned off the phone, taking out the SIM card and putting it back under the floorboard.

Dick came back 2 hours later. His nose was bright red and he shivered all over. You ran him a shower to warm up and he still cuddled close to you afterwards.

“Nothing. Dead lead,” he said. “Nothing but a fucking snow storm. Could have stayed in bed with my baby.” He pulled you tight to his body in a hug. Your heart clenched in guilt. You were a terrible girlfriend. The barely visible scar on his chest was glaring at you. At least Dick didn’t fight Deathstroke. “Thank god you aren’t in that life.”

You kissed his lips softly. Guilt. So fucking much. He pulled you on top of him and you had sex. You poured all of your love into it. You wanted him to feel loved because he deserved it, even if you didn’t. You kissed his scars and bruises. You fell asleep entangled with him until late morning as the snow fell all night.

———————————

A week and a 3 days later

Back at the warehouse

Dick didn’t offer any comfort. You had hurt him so badly. But he kept his word. He pretended to knock you out and arrest you. Batman and Deathstroke were fighting down below but both saw him carrying your unconscious cuffed body. Dick carried you to his bike where he placed you on and drove off. He didn’t take you back to your shared apartment. He had changed the locks already and you weren’t welcome there.

He took you to a safe house. Basic and non-descript. He didn’t uncuff you but sat you on a kitchen chair.

“Dick can you,” you asked pulling your arms cuffed behind your back.

“Not right now. Explain and I might,” he said pulling off your mask. He took off his own mask and sat both on the table.

“Dick,” you said softly but he ignored you to sit in a chair. Dick just glared at you. “I had no choice.”

“Besides me. Your boyfriend,” he reminded you.

“I didn’t know how you would react. They threatened me. They threatened you. I was scared. I swear I didn’t mean to hurt you. I know I did. I got in too deep,” you said hanging your head. Dick clenched his fists.

“GCPD threatened you?”

“They said they’d leak the press my secrets. It would be enough for Deathstroke to kill me. They’re right. He would. Kill you too if he thought I shared with you. He doesn’t know who you are. I never told him anything about you,” you said earnestly.

“So not full betrayal,” he said coldly with a dry smile.

“Dick,” you breathed.

“No. Don’t. You don’t get to act like that with me. You know,” he said roughly pulling his suit down his chest before running his finger along a silver mark. Your Mark. “You cut me and left a scar. I guess that’s why you always kiss my scars, hu? Because you helped to make them. I thought about marrying you. And you cut me.”

“Dick... I’m so so sorry. I didn’t want to. I hated it. But if I didn’t...” you said crying at this point. Your hands were starting to tingle from the cuffs.

“Deathstroke would know you weren’t loyal. Guess I’m lucky you didn’t cut my throat,” Dick said. You gasped and sobbed.

“I would never. I love you so much. I promise, it wasn’t what I wanted. Please understand,” you said wetly. He looked away clenching his jaw before sighing deeply.

“We’ll pay off Deathstroke and GCPD will loose all of your info. But I want you the hell out Gotham. I don’t want to see you ever again,” Dick said and you felt your world crumble.

“No,” you whimpered. “Please.”

“Do it or I won’t help you.”

You were shaking and sobbing uncontrollably at this point. Dick could barely look at you. You tried to control yourself before nodding. If you had known. If you had known that single kiss was your last. You would have changed everything.

“Dick. I love you so fucking much,” you pleaded and it was too much. He left the room. It was a full ten minutes before he came back. His face was stony but his nose and eyes were red. He didn’t look you in the eyes.

“Deathstroke won’t bother you. Bruce paid him. And it’s like you never existed in Gotham. Babs made sure of that,” Dick said and you winced. He had gone to his ex to help you. God, what had he told her?

“Thank you,” you said. Your voice was raw from crying and your hands were numb. You tried to move them around. Dick grabbed his keys and de-cuffed you. You moved your fingers and grimaced at the blood returning tingle.

“Stay here tonight and leave tomorrow. I’ll pack up your stuff. I know someone in metropolis that can get you a job and temporary place,” he said all business. You wanted to run into his arms, kiss his face, tell him that you love him. But that wasn’t an option any more.

“You’re a good guy. Helping me. I don’t deserve it but you’ve been nothing but good to me. I hope I can make it up to you someday,” you said quietly. He closed his eyes for a second before nodding. Dick had his hands in his pockets and his shoulders hunched, protecting himself.

“I’ve got to go. I can’t stay here,” he said after a minute. He couldn’t stand to be in the same room as you. A week ago, the look on your face would have had him doing anything to make it go away. Today he caused it. He couldn’t handle it.

“I’m sorry. Be careful in the weather,” you said unsure what to say. It was too late. Far too late.

————————————

The morning before Dick caught you

Your apartment

“Morning, baby,” you said, running a finger along the bridge of Dick’s nose. He mumbled and moved a little before opening his eyes with a smile. He caught your hand before you could touch his face again.

“What are you doing there, sweetheart,” he said and you giggled a little.

“Bothering my man. He’s too pretty to let sleep,” you said pulling him closer.

“Hmm, haven’t you heard of beauty sleep? We were up half the night and you want to wake me up. What if I’m tired,” Dick said. There was a glimmer in his eyes.

“I wore out Nightwing? That’s something to be quite proud of,” you said grinning. He chuckled.

“Well it isn’t every night that we do all that. Something got into you and I’m not complaining,” he said kissing your cheek.

“I think it was you. Four times,” you said with a smirk. He definitely chuckled at that. Dick looked over at the clock.

“Shit. I’m late. I guess it’s good you woke me. I should have been at work an hour ago. I’ll have to blame the storm,” he said trying to get up. You wrapped your legs around his waist.

“What if I won’t let you go?”

“I’d probably be fired and be a little sad,” Dick said playfully. He held your jaw and gave you a lingering kiss. “So I have to go. But I’ll make it up to you tonight.”

“Counting on it,” you said finally releasing him. He threw on his uniform and left. You stretched in bed, ready to lounge the day away when your phone rang. It could have been anyone but your heart clenched. You know who it was.

“North Shore Docks. Tonight. 2300. Be early,” Deathstroke said.

“I can’t,” you said. It was way too early. That was only 11 o’clock. Dick would definitely miss your presence.

“.... if you aren’t up to task then you can be replaced. Do you want to be replaced?” He asked. You had a nasty feeling replaced meant murdered.

“No.... I- I can make it,” you said.

“Good,” he said hanging up.

You wracked your brain with what to say. What to do. You couldn’t just leave at 10:30 at night. Dick would flip out. You had to lie to him again. A friend was in town.

“Hey Dickie,” you said giving him a call at work. He was always half distracted when you called him there.

“Hi sweetheart,” he answered and you heard a keyboard clacking.

“A friend came into town so I offered to take her out,” you said.

“It’s supposed to snow pretty bad. Just invite her over,” Dick said. Shit, that was a good point.

“She’s staying at the Grand Mariners Hotel. We’re just hitting the hotel bar and then her room,” you said. It was a nice hotel in the Diamond District that was plenty safe. “I’ll stay over with her if it’s bad enough.”

“Okay. Be safe. Call me if you need anything. Love you,” Dick said.

“Love you too,” you answered. You didn’t know it was the last thing you’d say before he found your betrayal. The last lie too.

2 years later

Metropolis

You thought about Dick Grayson all the time. You hadn’t come back to Gotham since. But you tried to move on. Even tried dating that failed horribly. Who could compare to Nightwing?

You walked downtown. You worked for the paper as an assistant. You got coffee and changed the printer paper. You’d made friends with the other office assistant who was a local of Metropolis.

Besides the fact you lost the love of your life, Metropolis was nice. Crime was much lower, it snowed and rained way less, and your apartment building had a pretty nice coffee shop across the street. Deathstroke and the Joker didn’t make news. No more Batman and Robin. People weren’t instantly distrustful. There were billboards with pictures of Superman saying things like “safest city in America” and “rated best family friendly city 3rd year in a row.” You had to change your attitude and walking habits because you were too scary for the friendly city. It was the Gotham way.

Today you were in a hurry. Your skirt whipped in the wind and a piece of hair stuck to your lip gloss. Your heels made obvious clacking sounds as you overtook others on the sidewalk. You got a lot of looks. Who runs like that? Especially with coffee in their hands?

You practically jumped out of the way as a dog got in your way. This pushed you right into a man walking the opposite way. Your coffee, thank god it was iced, smashed directly into the crisp white dress shirt on his firm chest.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” you gasped. You tried to swipe off the icy pieces that clung to his shirt.

“It’s okay,” he said grabbing your wrist. You looked up and almost dropped your bag. It was Dick. He looked good. A little taller maybe, his hair a little longer. You gulped.

“Dick,” you said softly. You didn’t dare say anything else. He stared at you back. “What are you- what brings you to Metropolis?”

“I’ve got a job for Bruce. You look good. I didn’t expect you to stay here,” he said rambling. You didn’t know where to look. At his chest covered in coffee with a now see through shirt that clung to every defined muscle. Or his face that you weren’t sure even wanted to see you.

“Well, I liked the job,” you almost whispered. Your voice betrayed your fear. Dick smiled a little.

“Good. That’s good. We should talk,” he said and your eyebrows rose.

“We should?”

“Yeah. Can I buy you a drink later? Tonight?” Dick asked. You could only nod yes. You were terrified. Clearly you were still in love with him.

—————

You fretted with the hem of your skirt on the cab ride to meet him at his hotel bar. Wayne Enterprise owned half share of it. The last time you saw Dick he told you that he never wanted to see you again. He sat at a table in the corner with a great view of every door. You smiled shyly as you walked over.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” he said motioning to the open chair. You sat down and fiddled with your bag before looking up. You were stalling.

“How is Gotham,” you asked, regretting it instantly. It’s a shit hole.

“Bad. But not out of the ordinary. I thought about calling you. A lot,” Dick admitted. He gulped before continuing. “I overreacted. I shouldn’t have banished you. Hell, I shouldn’t have been allowed to. You were- you thought you were protecting me in your own weird fucked up way.”

“I was wrong. You were mad and you should have been....And Metropolis is nice. Low on assassins and freaks,” you said and he nodded in agreement. “I missed you though,” you blurted out. You probably shouldn’t have said that. Dick’s eyes softened and he looked at you.

“I missed you too. A lot. I- I wanted to see you. But I didn’t know how to talk to you and the Titans got busy,” he said.

“I heard. You guys did some good work,” you said, admitting you followed Nightwing’s career at the least. The truth was that you stalked his admittedly quiet Instagram and any Nightwing news despite yourself. You had to search it out. Metropolis had Superman and didn’t care much for the Titans doing work in another state.

“Thanks. Yeah. I- can I take you out? On a date?” He asked suddenly.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, why- what? Why are you smiling?” Dick asked feeling lost.

“Dick, we’re at a restaurant right now,” you teased. Your heart felt a little warm despite the fact that you should definitely be cautious.

“Right. I mean, a proper date. Or whatever,” he said. It was weird to see Dick look nervous.

“Of course. Always. But I’ve got to ask why,” you said and he grinned before registering your question. “I betrayed you, Dick.”

His smile fell a little. “I know. I know. But I’ve made some mistakes too. Let myself fall into the grey between black and white. I’d tell you about it some other time but I’ve come to learn that it’s not easy. Not always good and bad. And if I can’t get you out of my head 2 years later.... it must mean something, right?” He sounded a little desperate. Like he was holding on to this idea of love.

“I’d like to think so,” you answered quietly. He offered a shy smile.

“How about we start over? Can I hold your hand?” He asked and you nodded. His fingers slowly slid over to yours he softly gripped your hand and you both smiled.

You were both a little scared. Could this work? Things were not the same. But there could be 2 little broken birds holding hands full of hope. Maybe it could. Maybe it could work.

#fns #dick Grayson #dick Grayson x reader #dick grayson fluff #dick grayson smut #dick grayson angst #nightwing x reader #nightwing x y/n #nightwing #nightwing angst #batboys x reader #dc

[the-scandalorian]

Tempered Glass: Chapter 2

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader Rating: M (will become explicit in later chapters) Word Count: 4.3k Warnings: slow burn, canon-typical violence, non-graphic description of wounds, cursing, sexy thoughts, pining Summary: Chance brought you and the Mandalorian together on Nevarro. Now, on his ship, you have to broker a careful trust with him, despite both his and your instincts to distrust others. Notes: I’ll be loosely following the events of the first season and see what happens from there. Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! Taglist:  @bbdoyouloveme​ @beskarhearts​ @dincrypt​ @honey-hi​ @just-me-and-my-obsessions00​ @red-leaders​ @zoemariefit​ 

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Image from The Art of Star Wars: The Mandalorian

Before you could decide what to say to him, the Mandalorian rushed across the hull in two long strides and grabbed your shoulders forcefully, lifting you from your seated position and pushing you up against the wall. You exclaimed in surprise as a strong forearm came up to hold your chest in place, restricting the expansion of your lungs in a painful way. Your hands automatically scrabbled against his arms, trying to break his grip, but his hold was iron. He was leaning all his weight into you, crushing you into the wall, and even bracing your legs against his armored thighs didn’t budge him.

“Who sent you?” he yelled, his helmet inches from your face. The depth and rasp of his voice through the modulator made your stomach drop, and your fight instincts kicked into high gear.

Here’s the Mandalorian I was expecting.

Your upper arms were trapped against your sides, but you could lash out just enough to dig your fingers into his injured side, exploiting his weakness. He grunted and faltered, loosening his hold, and you took the chance to shove him off of you while pulling the long knife from your belt and whipping it up to his neck. At this same time, he recovered and yanked his blaster out of his holster to press the barrel into your stomach. His left hand had a vice-like hold on your bicep.

“No one! No one sent me!” you panted. Your right hand pressed your knife against the fabric at his throat, and your left gripped the back of his neck so he couldn’t move away from the blade. Your finger hovered over the activation switch on the hilt.

In this position, you had to tilt your head up to look into the t-shaped visor of his helmet. You tried to make out his eyes, but all you could see was your own reflection in the inky black surface. You were sweaty and out of breath. His breath was fast and loud through the modulator, chest heaving just inches from yours. This is not an opportune time to be turned on.

“Why were you following me this morning?” he demanded. So he had known.

“Why were you watching me in the cantina a few weeks ago?” you countered.

He tensed, surprised by the question, and cocked his head to the side, considering. “...You looked familiar,” he offered.

Maybe he really had recognized me from my bounty puck, like the bounty hunter in the alley today.

As you contemplated this possibility, the threat you each posed to the other became almost palpable.

He was worried that you were after him or the child—both of whom were clearly high-value targets. And if you had really run into him by chance and didn’t know that before, then you obviously knew how much they were both worth now. You could easily take advantage of that. You, on the other hand, suspected that he knew you yourself had a bounty on your head—and here you were, on his ship, mostly at his mercy. However, you’d say the stakes were higher for him. He had more than just himself to worry about. He clearly cared about whoever this child was.

“I wasn’t following you today. I wouldn’t have been so obvious if I was tracking you. Is that how you would follow a bounty? I was trying to talk to you,” you admitted.

He seemed unsure of whether or not he should believe you. His grip on your arm loosened almost imperceptibly. You reciprocated by easing the pressure of your hold on his neck.

Perhaps, the fact that you were both so vulnerable meant you could come to an understanding.

“Can we just talk? I’m not after you or the kid. I don’t even know why they’re after you. I saw you the other day in the cantina, and I was curious about why you were watching me, so I followed you to talk today. Then I got caught in the fray when I ran into you in the alley. That’s it. It sounds ridiculous, but that’s it. Let’s lower these and just talk.”

You hoped you could earn back the fragile trust you’d had between you just minutes ago on Nevarro, but you had no reason real reason to trust each other. It was clear that neither of you was used to trusting others.

Trust was a bad habit you’d had to unlearn to survive, and the same was true for bounty hunters. His was also a brutal, solitary profession.

But, there was also no explicit reason you had to be enemies.

He hesitated. “You first.” His voice rasped in the modulator.

You continued to hold him where he was, close to you, for another moment as you considered what to do. You didn’t want to hurt him, and it seemed like his instinct was to protect rather than attack.

You slowly released your grip on his neck and dropped your blade.

He lowered his blaster and replaced it in the holster at his side, still standing just inches from you. You knew that he was only open to this truce because there were several ways he could overpower you if he needed to. You hadn’t forgotten the fire that had erupted from his vambrace. He likely had a myriad of other deadly tricks up his sleeve—literally.

After a tense moment, you both stepped back.

“Why did you help me?” he asked.

“I didn’t have much of a choice. Why did you help me?”

“I... don’t know. It made sense at the time.”

“Why’d you let me on your ship?”

“I wasn’t going to let them kill you,” he shrugged, like that was obvious.

“Well, I appreciate that,” you laughed. He cocked his head in surprise. The tension thawed slightly.

You sat down on opposite sides of the hull, a safe distance apart, watching each other warily.

“Are you Guild?”

“I’m not a hunter.” He seemed skeptical but didn’t press the issue.

You reached for your bag, and he tensed.

“Just getting water.” You yanked your water bottle out of your bag and drank.

He leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees. “What weapons do you have?”

“Blaster, knife, spare blaster. Not quite the arsenal you have,” you motioned to where his weapons closet was partially open, displaying an impressive array of firearms, explosives, and knives.

He nodded and explained, “Weapons are part of my religion.”

“Right,” you muttered, not really sure what that meant. You met his visor briefly then looked away again. Having his attention trained solely on you felt like sitting under a spotlight. And it wasn’t just the threat of danger that made you squirm.

You flicked your eyes back up to him when he shifted. You followed his movements as he pulled the blaster from his holster and stood to put it on its hook in the closet, then did the same with his rifle and vibroblade. He clicked a button on the wall, and the weapons closet clanged shut. You were still acutely aware that his whole body was a weapon, so this gesture of peace was largely symbolic.

Nonetheless, you responded in kind by placing your large vibroblade and both your blasters on a crate out of your reach.

You sat in awkward silence for a moment. You weren’t really sure if these empty gestures meant anything real... or were just that—empty. How likely was it that you were going to progress from strangers to two people who actually trusted each other in the confines of this tiny ship within the span of minutes? Not very.

“I’m going to use the refresher,” you announced. He nodded.

His searing gaze followed you the short distance to the door, and you suddenly forgot what you usually did with your arms when you walked.

It was a relief to close the door behind you and be alone for a moment. When you washed your hands, you noted the generous amount of the Mandalorian’s blood drying on your fingers, smeared there from when you made contact with his blaster injury. From the looks of it, his injury was worse than yours.

You scrubbed your hands clean and leaned down to splash water on your face, wiping away the sweat and dirt on your brow. Then, you rested your palms on the edge of the sink and took a few steadying breaths, studying your face in the small mirror before you.

I’ve been in tighter spots than this.

And this time, like every one of those other times, you steeled yourself and concentrated on the next immediate step you could take to improve your situation. You let your anxiety fall away as you narrowed your focus to a tangible action: treating your thigh wound. If you let yourself consider more than that, spiral in uncertainty and linger on every unknown and variable in this situation, you’d feel overwhelmed.

One step at a time.

When you returned to the hull, you opened your bag to pull out your med pack, sat back on your crate, and got to work cleaning the graze wound through the hole the blaster shot had left in your pants. 

The Mandalorian reached into a container and pulled out his own much larger med pack. With precise movements, he removed his cape, his bandolier, and the top half of his armor. He turned away to pull up his shirt and inspect his wound. He was careful to stay angled in a way so you couldn’t see any of his exposed skin—you weren’t sure if he didn’t want you to know the extent of his injury or if he wasn’t allowed to reveal any of his skin to you.

From the way he was contorting awkwardly, it was clear that he was struggling to reach the extent of the wound.

“Do you want help?” you offered, knowing he’d refuse. You felt compelled to try anyways.

He snapped his helmet up to look at you, like he was surprised you were there. You waited for his answer. Several moments delayed, he jerked his head slightly, like he’d rediscovered a lost train of thought, and muttered: “I’m fine.”

You shrugged and finished tending to your own wound. When you had finished tying a clean bandage around your thigh, you noticed he was squeezing a tiny amount of bacta from an almost empty tube.

“Do you need this?” You held your full tube out to him.

He looked up. Again, he seemed to have forgotten you were there, or perhaps, was so caught off guard by your question, that his answer came after a long stretch of silence. It seemed like a weird reaction to such benign questions.

“Thank you,” he replied, dropping his shirt to walk toward you.

He reached for the bacta, but instead of taking the tube, he grabbed your wrist, twisting it hard. You cried out in pain as the bacta clattered to the floor. His free hand whipped behind his back to grab a pair of cuffs from his belt. Despite your struggling and flailing, he wrenched your arm over and cuffed your hand to a rung of the ladder that was just a few inches to your left.

You kicked out a foot to trip him, but he evaded it. You reached for him with your unrestrained hand, but he jumped back.

Shit. You cursed yourself for placing your weapons out of reach. The small blade strapped to your ankle wouldn’t be of much help at the moment. You let out a frustrated huff of anger. You were better than this, smarter than this.

“I’m sorry. I have to,” he insisted. He started to pace back and forth.

“You really don’t,” you argued, as you slouched against the wall in defeat. He’d cuffed you part way up the ladder, so your arm stretched uncomfortably above your head when you sank to the floor. You rubbed your free hand over your face, thinking.

“I can’t risk it,” he continued, almost apologetic in tone. He seemed to be convincing himself as much as he was convincing you.

“What are you going to do with me?”

He tilted his helmet down at you: “Nothing?”

“I mean, what’s the long term plan here?”

“I’ll leave you somewhere nearby—you can choose the planet—but I need to sleep before I can do anything else. And well...” he gestured vaguely to you then to the compartment where the kid was sleeping.

You watched him resume his circuit of the tiny hull and weighed your options. There weren’t many, and the fact that he was so worried about what you’d do to him or to the kid made you feel less threatened by him. He was spending his time thinking about how you might hurt him, not about how he could take advantage of you. At least, you hoped that was the case.

“I understand,” you relented, letting out a heavy sigh. At least he didn’t freeze me in carbonite.

He froze midstride to stare down at you.

As annoyed as you were by the restraints, you couldn’t really blame him. Honestly, you’d do the same exact thing if you were in his position. You’d already started thinking about the safest way to get some sleep in his presence—your next clear course of action—knowing that your temporary truce was fragile.

He regarded you silently, as if waiting for the catch.

“You could have just asked. I probably would have tried to talk you out of it, but I really do get it. I don’t know you. You don’t know me.”

He stood, looking down at you, incredulous.

It was strange, but not unfamiliar, to have to read someone in full armor, to take all cues from body language and tone. And in the Mandalorian’s case, even his tone was somewhat obscured. You stared back up into his blank helmet but felt sure you were reading him pretty well.

You glanced up at the handcuffs and were comforted by the knowledge that you could pick the mechanism fairly easily with some combination of your small vibroblade, the bobby pin in your hair (which was only there for this express purpose), and—if it came to it—the underwire of your bra. You’d done it before.

He doesn’t need to know that.

It seemed like, as someone who regularly restrained people, he should assume you could pick locks, but you weren’t about to bring that to his attention. You were going to let him think you were completely at his mercy because clearly that’s what he needed to feel safe. Plus, you didn’t want him to resort to a more extreme means of restraining you.

“Could you at least cuff me to something so I can lie down?” You wiggled the arm that was stretched awkwardly over your head.

He tucked his thumbs into his belt and cocked his head as if trying to decide whether or not this was a trick. He sighed quietly though the modulator.

“Don’t try anything,” he warned, striding forward to unlock the cuffs. You held your hands up in surrender. He led you toward a spot along the wall where a pipe ran a few inches off the floor and gestured for you to sit by it.

When he leaned over your body to snap the cuffs to the pipe, you caught a glimpse of his neck, where a sliver of skin was exposed between his cowl and his helmet. His skin was golden brown—definitely not green like the child, definitely human. It was less than an inch of skin, but you couldn’t help but feel that you’d witnessed something scandalous or intimate, like you’d accidentally walked in on someone changing. You also couldn’t help but notice that he smelled good under the faint odor of metal and blaster residue.

He wasn’t rough when he secured your hand in the cuffs this time.

Walking around the hull, he collected a ration pack and a thick blanket from two different crates and grabbed your water bottle from where you’d left it by your bag. He tossed the items to you one at a time.

Thoughtful.

He picked up your bacta from where it had fallen to the floor and sat back down to finish tending to his own wound.

You pulled the blanket under you so you weren’t sitting on the cold, hard floor of the ship and leaned back against the wall.

You opened the ration pack, picking at the contents, and considered the man before you.

You had a million questions for him but somehow couldn’t think of one thing to say. Nothing seemed particularly pressing as the stress and exertion of the day were beginning to catch up with you. He wasn’t a particularly chatty guy and didn’t seem interested in conversation beyond determining whether or not you were trying to abduct his child—and the jury was clearly still out on that front as far as he was concerned.

Eventually, he finished treating his wound and replaced his upper armor. He disappeared into the refresher for a few minutes then returned to what you had assumed was a storage bay, where he had placed the child. After shifting the child gently, he climbed—in full armor—into the smallest, most ridiculous bunk you’d ever seen before closing the door and disappearing from view. Doesn’t he have a room?

You finished the ration pack, kicked off your boots, and curled up in the blanket to lie down. You were grateful that your physical exhaustion was absolute. Otherwise, you were sure your mental chatter would have kept you awake. You needed rest before you could decide your next move. Telling yourself that you’d just doze, not sleep deeply, your eyelids drifted shut almost unwillingly.

***

The next morning, you woke to the Mandalorian leaning over you to release your wrist from the cuffs. You started at his unexpected closeness, jerking back, and he looked down. Clearly, you’d fallen into a deep sleep for several hours. Whoops.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You still weren’t used to that rich, raspy voice. Does it ever not sound seductive? It didn’t help that you could smell him again when he was leaned over you like that. You closed your eyes, waiting for him to move away.

“That’s okay.”

He stood, clipping the cuffs to the back of his belt. You sat up, leaning against the wall, and rubbed your eyes.

He sat on a crate across from you, with the baby on his lap, feeding him little pieces of something gross looking. The kid was perched happily on his knee, wiggling his giant ears in satisfaction as he chewed and watching you with unguarded interest.

“Who is that?” you asked.

The baby was alert and cheery, periodically letting out joyful little chirps, a marked difference from their subdued temperament the night before.

“He was a bounty,” the Mandalorian stated simply, as if that explained the whole situation.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at his non-answer and didn’t respond. Obviously, there was more to the story, but he didn’t want to share it. That was fine. You didn’t owe each other anything (except maybe your lives, but in that regard, you figured you were even).

You watched the Mandalorian. He was sweet with the child—patient, too—but awkward and unsure. You didn’t have all that much experience with children either, but you knew holding a baby out in front of you with straight arms, as you’d seen him do for a moment yesterday, was not normal. He seemed caring and invested but inexperienced.

How long has he had this baby?

“I think we can help each other.” The Mandalorian spoke slowly, interrupting your train of thought.

This development surprised you, especially considering he’d made you sleep cuffed to a pipe.

From the moment you set eyes on the armored warrior, you had expected him to be cold, withholding: a lone wolf. In some ways, he was—the armor alone was enough to make him seem hostile and untouchable—but in other ways... He was almost... kind? He’d protected you, a stranger, without hesitation. The fact that he was caring for a wanted child was another piece of the puzzle that didn’t fit.

“How’s that?” You fidgeted with the edge of the blanket in your hands.

You hadn’t had the chance to formulate a full plan for yourself, but you didn’t really need to. You’d do what you’d always done: disappear. You’d lay low for a few weeks, then return to one of the three places you had hidden supplies: namely, new identification and credits. And then you’d disappear again. Maybe change your hair. Find a temporary job somewhere. Same old routine.

“The same people are after both of us.”

You snapped your head up to look at him.

“They saw you holding the kid and board the Crest. They know you’re with me,” he continued.

The same set of questions played in your head: Did he recognize me as a bounty that day in the cantina? Or did he notice the moment when the bounty hunter had recognized me in the alley yesterday? Or does he really just think I’m caught up in this with him because of pure chance?

He took your silence as an invitation to proceed.

“I can drop you off on a nearby planet. We can go our separate ways, but I think they’ll be looking for you too. It might be best to stay together for the moment.” He spoke carefully, like he knew he was out on a limb, and he didn’t expect you to agree. This was the most you’d heard him say at once. When you really considered it, he was right. Based on they way the fight went down, with you and the Mandalorian protecting each other, everyone would conclude that you were a team. That’s how the word would spread. Hunters would come after you both. If they found you separately, they’d assumed you knew where the other one was.

Between bites, the kid let out the cutest, tiniest sneeze you’d ever heard. The Mandalorian wiped his nose gently with the edge of his cape, and the softness of the gesture made your heart squeeze. You looked away briefly to hide the smile on your face.

You turned back to him, expression neutral, meeting his inscrutable gaze once again. “We’d be harder to find if we went our separate ways. We could lead them in two different directions,” you reasoned, trying to parse out all the options.

“I... feel bad that they’d come after you for no other reason than you happened to run into me in an alley.”

Again, his thoughtfulness surprised you.

For now, it seems safe to assume he doesn’t know about my bounty.

And you weren’t ready to share that yet...even though you knew hiding it was unfair to him and to the child. They were both already at risk. If you decided to stay with him for the moment, you’d eventually need to admit that you were a liability all on your own.

Not yet though.

“What’s your plan?”

“Head somewhere deserted. Lay low for a couple weeks, then go from there.”

That’s what you would be doing alone anyways. He’d already proven his skill in battle. Would it be so bad to have someone looking out for you for once?

It would be a relief, if you were being totally honest with yourself.

“Okay,” you agreed hesitantly. “For now, this makes sense,” you gestured between you two.

He nodded once.

You posed the question that was plaguing you: “What made you change your mind about me? Why are you trusting me all of a sudden?”

“You stayed cuffed.”

You raised your eyebrows at him. Apparently, it had been a test, and you had passed. I guess he was being smart, not underestimating me. 

He seemed satisfied to leave the conversation there, but your curiosity got the better of you. You took the chance to build on this blossoming trust.

“So, does the helmet stay on all the time?”

He met your gaze for a moment before looking down at the kid and saying, “No living being has seen my face since I was a child. This is the way.”

Well, that’s super sad.

You thought back to the exchange between him and that huge blue Mandalorian. They’d both said the same thing then too.

Mandalorians have a catchphrase?

You wondered what this helmet rule meant in practice: for instance, does that mean he could be helmetless around someone if they couldn’t see his face... Like, were blindfolds or very dark rooms on the table? And what about the rest of the armor? Can he take that off? How bad should I feel that I’d seen a sliver of his neck? You wanted to know the answers to all these questions but obviously couldn’t ask.

Instead, you nodded and said, “What’s your name?”

“Mando is fine.” Impersonal. Business-like. It’s what Karga had called him.

His proposal to stay together for the time being had felt like an opening, but clearly peeling away all his layers of metaphorical armor would take a long time. He was so guarded, but it seemed like he didn’t really want to be. You related to that on a deep level.

“Mando?” You voiced the question that had popped into your head when Karga called him Mando the first time: “Isn’t Mandalorian spelled m-a-n-d-A-l-o-r-i-a-n?”

“...yes?” he confirmed tentatively, unsure of your point. His hand, which was in the process of feeding the child another bite, paused midair as he watched you. The kid made impatient whiny sounds and reached for his hand.

“So shouldn’t your nickname be Mand-a?”

He scoffed, making a sound somewhere between amusement and annoyance, and resumed feeding the child, who let out a contented coo as he chewed.

There was an awkward beat of silence while you waited for him to ask for your name. When he asked, you’d share your fake name, as always. 

He didn’t ask.

***

Chapter 3

#my writing #tempered glass #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x f!reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin fic #mature #the mandalorian reader insert #din djarin reader insert

[deexchanel]

Don't do this to me.

Word Count:

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x BlackFem!OC

Warning: Angst, Sadness.

Summary: Charmaine's first mission with the team but it doesn't end well and the team loses a member.

Go to the series masterlist before you read this chapter, if this is your first time: Charmaine

A/N: Okay so I feel way more comfortable posting this chapter after I said I wasn't going to post the rest. Let me know if this cringy, I love feedback.

------------------

The day was Friday and it was the same as any other day, Charmaine was back home from her class, Peter was getting out of school, the team either train or helped find the location of the Hydra base that held the scepter. One month after the avengers been staying in the tower. The relationship between Charm and Bucky was growing every day, at times they act like a couple without even noticing.

"Did you enjoy dinner?" Charm questioned while washing the few dishes that were in the sink. Bucky walked over placing a kiss on her cheek and putting his dirty plate in the water.

"I loved it, that lobster mac and cheese was amazing."

She blushed at the comment and his boldness of him kissing her on the cheek. He winked then walked over to the couch sitting down beside Sam, joining him in the movie that was playing. Bucky let go of the nervous breath he was holding,  he seemed confident on the outside but on the inside, he was scared as fuck.

Charmaine wasn't no easy girl that he would flirt and take home the same night in the '40s. She was the girl that he wants to get to know fully, learn the little things about, be himself around. So most time he was around Charm, he was nervous as hell praying that he wouldn't say something dumb.

Charmaine hummed one of her favorite songs while cleaning up the last dish thinking about a certain long-haired brunette. She turned around coming face to face with spiderman who was hanging upside down.  The 21-year old let out a yelp clutching her heart.

"Peter don't do that !! What the hell dude."

"You okay Charm?" Bucky questioned from the couch looking over at her. He saw Peter hanging down so his concerns washed away. "Oh, Peter just scared her."

"Yeah, you alright?" Sam asked as well not taking his eyes off the screen, ignoring what Bucky just said.

"Sorry Champagne, I just came back from patrol and I rushed in here before you left to ask you this. Can you make brownies? I wasn't here the last time you made them and everyone said they were good. " Peter rambled as he let himself come down, sitting on top of the perfectly clean marble countertop.

"They were!" Sam chimed in.

"See! I want to try them." Peter pout poking out his lip.

"I be spoiling you guys I swear. I'll make some just for you Peter."  Charm groaned playfully, opening the cabinet grabbing the brownie box. "Get your ass off my counter, I just cleaned it."

Peter hopped off happily," So? You and Bucky?"

"Peter if you continue to say something about that topic, I'm not making the brownies." She warned looking in the fridge for the eggs.  Maria walked in from the elevator with a serious face grabbing everyone's attention.

"They found the base. Cap said suit up and meet them in the lab in 5. Peter, Happy is downstairs waiting for you."

Everyone nodded and Charm hugged Peter. Tony had let slide with one of his kids going on the mission, not both so Peter was going home until they got back. She kissed his forehead.

"This mission shouldn't take long, I'll be back to make your brownies. Be good for Aunt May."

" I am Champagne, be safe and please come back. "

"I will Petey. I'll always come back."

-----------

Charmaine walked in beside Sam as they were the last two to join the rest in the lab. She found a spot beside Scott. Everyone was in full armor ready to go except Bruce and Tony because you know.

"Glad of you two to finally make it," Tony said sarcastically then started swiping away on his tablet. It projects a hologram of what seems to be Rome. "We are going to Rome. Intel tells us that hydra has a camp in the countryside."

The hologram shows a huge vineyard with a building that looked abandoned with little buildings surrounded.

"Inside sources tell us that the person who is over this organization called M.A.Z.E is supposed to be visiting any moment now. We're taking down two operations at once so be prepared for this mission to be one of the hardest." Maria said reading something off her tablet. Charm snuck a glance at Bucky who was in his winter soldier attire. She hoped that this mission wasn't going too hard for him.

"Brief explanation. Stay focused at all times, take out as many as you can, feeling overwhelmed? Walk it off. Get in, Get out. Anyone that has the chance grabs the scepter." Steve spoke with determination.

"When we get there we fight anyone that comes our way. Sam or Stark will find a way to get us in. Charm you stay by someone at all times okay? first mission and we don't want to lose you."

"Gotcha." Charm nod her head understanding his rule.

-------------

Inside the quinjet, she sat beside Bucky. Both had their mask off to communicate with each other. Everyone was in either their own zone or in a conversation. Bucky closed his eyes so he could converge on how to not lose control of himself, he didn't want to completely turn back into the winter soldier.

"You like my suit?" Charmaine asked softly taking him out of his trance.

Bucky turns his head giving a smile, "I like it. You make it look good and very badass."

"I feel like a badass." She jokes making them laugh. As their laughter died down, Charm grabbed his hand pulling it in her lap. "Are you okay about this whole mission? I know history with you and hydra isn't really that good."

"I should be good, I just don't want to be captured again, you know? Steve and I are still working on me not reacting to my trigger words. It's hard but it's working. Plus I got you fighting by my side so we are going to be the coldest duo."

"Well I'm not going to let that happen, you protect me so I'm going to always protect you . If you don't mind, I could help with the trigger words? I'll be there to hold your hand or something." Charm said with quiet empathy giving him a soft smile. " Coldest duo? Well, this mission should be over in no time. When we get back can we finish watching Legally Blonde? You fell asleep before it started leaving me up by myself."

"I'll check with Steve when we do it the next time, I wouldn't want you to get hurt if anything happened," Bucky said nodding his head towards Steve. " And I told you that I was tired! You didn't listen and put on the movie anyway."

"I'm not going to get hurt and I thought you were playing!" Charm said in defense then calmed down. "Hey, Bucky?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm always going to be here for you okay? You mean the world to me and I don't want to lose you under no circumstances." She said holding his hand to her face. Charmaine looked him in the eyes, showing that she was serious. A world without Bucky is a world that she can't live in. She needs him.

His hand opened and Charm cuddled to it. Bucky looked at her in admiration rubbing his thumb against her cheek. He admits it, Buchanan was head over heels for her,"You mean the world to me as well so don't think you're going anywhere. You're my lucky charm."

In the next four hours, they had arrived Rome's countryside and everyone prepared for landing. Charm stood next to her dad as his Iron Man suit connects over his body. Before his helmet covered his face, Tony turned to Charm.

"Kiddo, be safe alright? Don't get hurt or anything."

"I will." She reassured and he kissed her forehead. 'Now thinking about it Tony has a weird way of expressing his feelings' Charmaine thought to herself. The doors to the jet opened and Steve spoke up, "Stark, Sam you're up!"

-------------------------

A/N: I am not good with action so skipping to the juicy part.

-------------------------

Charmaine ran down the hallway trying to find the exit to the big building. Thor didn't retrieve the scepter and they were still looking but time was winding down. She ran into this room where there were big computer screens on the wall with a closed-cell in the corner.

"Ahh, I have been looking for you." A female voice came from behind her making Charmaine turn around swiftly. "I'm Mazikeen and you are going to be on in my unit."

The room filled with tension as they circled each other not losing sight of one another. "Unit? I'm not going to be anyone's slave. Let alone let you lay a finger on me, so let go of that stupid ass idea you have." Charmie snapped holding her fist up. Mazikeen winked getting in defense mode as well.

"Snarky? I like that. Let's do this shall we?"

She swings on Charm who easily blocks it. The two fight hand-to-hand combat for a couple of minutes, none stop. Charmaine was getting tired but she held her weight up. She kicked Mazikeen on her back, placing her foot on her neck. The Demon grabbed her ankle smirking then rolled over making Charm fall on her side. She gets on top, pulling out her knife.

"This won't hurt one bit. Well, maybe just a little."

"Anyone have eyes on Charmaine? The building is going to blow in 3 minutes." Tony's voice came through the comm.

"I'm busy at the moment!" Charm yelled pushing Mazikeen's arms up so she wouldn't get stabbed in the face. The dark skin girl moved one of her hands to the side grabbing the demon's hair yanking it.

Mazikeen fell off and it gave her enough time to get back to her feet. Charm kicked her to stay down but Mazi grabs her foot mid-air then twist it making her body twirl, falling on the ground.

"I will have you to myself and make you my eternal flame. Right along with the other 3 elements. You are going to be the most powerful." Mazikeen leans down grabbing her hair yanking it making Charmaine cry out in pain. The demon moved her mouth close to Charm's ear with a sinister smirk.

"I'm going to have you kill anyone that stands in our way."

A guard's body flew in the door from someone kicking him through. Bucky walks into the room angrily seeing Mazikeen holding a handful of Charm's brown hair.

He runs over punching her in the face making the demon drop his lover. Bucky grabbed Mazikeen by the neck with his metal hand dragging her towards the closed-cell.

The bounty hunter's eyes widen from the pressure that was on her throat, she hit his arm repeatedly but that didn't do anything. Bucky flings her into the closed cell like she was discarded trash.

Charm sits on the ground rubbing the back of her head, the words haunting her mind. Bucky goes back over to help his best girl onto her feet.

"We need to out of here now."

But it was muffled because of the mask. She nodded putting her weight on him as they walked to the exit. On the roof, the two ran to the middle.

"We're on the roof! Bring the Quinjet!" Bucky yelled taking off his mouth cover. Charm was hunched over trying to catch her breath, she literally just fought 5 minutes straight now she doing a full-out run. She needed more exercise.

The explosion sounded off and the building shook. Just in time, the Quinjet hovered down lowly so they could get on. A huge crack in the roof separated the two.

The building was going to collapse.

They looked around frantically as Charm's side start to slowly but gradually fall.

"Jump!" Bucky yelled, holding out his hand.

Charm did as told, not even second-guessing, leaping off the fallen building. She catches the side of the broken roof, barely holding on with one hand. All she needed to do was use her upper body to lurch her forward so her other hand could grab his. Bucky bends over, reaching for her hand, not taking his blue eyes off her brown ones.

Charmaine's eyes were filled with fear, feeling herself slowly losing grip, "I can't reach it!"

"Use your strength, Charmaine. Grab my hand!"

"I can't, Bucky; my body is too tired. I feel myself slipping!"

"Charm, grab his hand! Bucky, you need to need to grab Steve's hand. That building is going to collapse any second! He will pull you guys up." Natasha said in the comms but was ignored by both.

Bucky leans forward more without noticing that he might fall himself, "I'm not leaving without you charmaine. grab my hand!"

"I'm trying!" Charm yelled when she tries to lift herself; it aches in pain. She drops her hand down in pain. Tears clouded her vision as she knew this was it; Bucky stared at her scratched-filled face knowing what she was thinking.  He shook his head; He can't lose her, not now, " No Charm, you're leaving with me!"

Charmie could feel the building she was holding on to began to fall, sobbing; she looked into Bucky's blue eyes one last time. "I'm sorry Bucky."

"No Charmie, you have time. Just grab my hand! P-Please." Bucky yelled as tears clouded his vision. "You're my lucky charm. I need you!"

The building collapsed, and his feet slip from under him. A hand grabs his keeping Bucky from falling in the rubble; Natasha lowered it down in time just for Steve to grab the back of his armor from falling with her.

"No!" Bucky stared in horror watching Charmaine screamed, falling into the explosion reaching out for him.

Steve gasp as tears fell down his face seeing the horrible fate of his sister.

There was nothing either could do.

With the help of others, Steve pulled Bucky into the quinjet.

Bucky laid on his stomach sobbing with heartache.

Tears weld in Thor's eyes as he saw that Charmaine wasn't on the jet. This didn't seem real to him; he couldn't accept it, "Where is Charmie? Why isn't my sister on this jet?!"

"Steve, where is Charmie?" Natasha asked, slowly getting up from the pilot seat as Clint took over. Her heart raced, hoping that he would say that Tony has her or something. Bruce grabbed her waist, but she snatched away from his touch.

"Natasha, sit down."

"Don't tell me to sit down! Where is she?!"

Steve couldn't say anything as he drops to his knees, breaking down. Sam catches him before he hit the floor. "I got you man."

The jet doors opened as Tony flew in; he raised an eyebrow to see the team in tears. He was getting files in this underground room but got out in time just as the building collapsed. He noticed someone was missing.

"What's going on? Where is Charmaine?"

No one answer, which made Tony panic.

"Where is my daughter?!"

"Tony, she died; she f-fell into the explosion," Scott informed him while wiping his tears.  Her falling replayed in Bucky's mind like it was his personal hell. Charm reached out for him, and he couldn't save her. He failed.

Tony's world crumbled as tears blurred his vision looking around the jet as if she was hiding, "What? Barnes tell me he's lying! Where the hell is my daughter!"

Bucky sat up now with his knees to his chest; he couldn't stop crying no matter how much he tried. He lost the one person that meant the most to him other than Steve, the person he saw a future with. His best girl is no longer here.

Tony sat down in a seat in disbelief; for once in his life, he cried. He completely broke down, not being able to hold it. She filled the lonely hole in his heart; everyone he ever loved was gone, and the person who made him happy.

Was gone too.

------------------

It was evening time when they got back; they had been gone all day.

The living room was silent; the avengers sat down sulking and mourning. Bucky squeezed his eyes tightly closed as the memory of her falling hit his mind like a truck. Tony had his head in his hands, just letting his mind run all over the place. The elevator ding, and a frantic Peter walked out looking for Tony.

"Mr. Stark, I'm here! What happened? Is everyone okay? Are you okay?" Peter rambled, walking into the living room. He noticed everyone's sad behavior, then looked around for Champagne. "Guys?  Did something happen? Where is Charmaine?"

Tony gets up from the couch, going to Peter, engulfing him in a hug. Peter hugged back, shock that he did that but was still confused about what happened. "Mr. Stark, what's wrong?"

"She n-not co-coming back, kiddo."

"H-huh?"

"I'm s-sorry, kid."

"N-no, you're lying! This isn't a joking matter, Mr.Stark; everyone can put smiles on their fucking faces, and Champagne can pop up from under the couch." Peter said abruptly, pulling back from Tony's arms; doing a 360 to look around for a camera. Steve rubbed his hand over his mouth to keep from crying again.

"Queens, it's not a jo-joke."

Peter's face reddens from anger and sadness," She said she was coming back! She promised! What happened to her?!" Charmaine promised without even promising him because she always comes back. Peter prayed that this a sick ass joke; she was his best friend. Him and Her against the world.

"She fe-fell into the explosion Peter," Bruce said sadly; with that, Natasha broke down in his arms. Peter wasn't taking this well, and that broke everyone's heart even more.

"N-no guys, stop this, pl-please."Peter cried, shaking his head, then he looked Tony in the eyes. Her father nodded his head as a way of saying that it's true. Peter broke down mentally, " My Champagne is su-supposed to be here with me. My best friend is.."

Tony pulls his son into his arms; tears threaten to spill.

Peter sobbed his heart out.

-----------------------

2:43 a.m.

Bucky's body lurched forward after grabbing the gun that was kept under his pillow for 'emergency purposes' raised at...

Steve.

"Bucky, drop the gun. It's me."

"Shit, I'm sorry, Steve." His fingers slowly lost grip of the gun, and the weapon dropped to his lap. His chest drew up sharply with each breath as he tried to control his rapidly beating heart. Steve sat on the edge of his bed.

"It's fine Buck, you were yelling, so I came in here to see if everything was alright."

"I should be fine."

"Okay, I'm going back to bed and try to get some sleep before my morning exercise." Steve sighs, getting up from the bed. He wasn't getting any sleep at all, but he didn't want to tell Bucky that.

"Steve?" Bucky called before he could leave out the room. Steve stopped in his tracks looking at him.

"Yeah?"

"Can you stay with me and watch Legally Blonde? I was supposed to watch it with Ch-Charm when we came back, but..."

"I'll stay Bucky; I don't mind."

Bucky gave a small smile getting out of bed, grabbing some pillows and the comforter. Steve grabbed his laptop from the desk to find the movie. 5 minutes later, the two super soldiers were lying on the floor, eyes glued to the computer enjoying the movie.

-----

Awe this is a filler and it's long so bonus.

Give feedback plsss😂. If this is cringy let me knoww!

————-

Next Chapter: Eternal Flame

stay slutty my friends!

#marvel #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes #captain america #bucky fanfic #bucky imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #bucky x poc!reader #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes x black!reader

[sulphuryasecretcloset]

What if...

For the record, I blame @phrenic-a and @mountevey for this one... I, uh, think maybe three parts? Four? And just posting it here, not on AO3, as I DON’T DO AUS! ...except for this one, it seems. *sigh* 

What if Dulsissia hadn’t died, what if she had grabbed Corin and fled? What if she met Davarax? What if...

-

Part 1

Rated T for a slight touch of gloom before the fluff can start

It has been three months since they left Seswenna. Three months since she told Macero she was bringing Corin along to scout for some new outfits and her husband barely bothering to pay attention to the end of the sentence.

They couldn’t stay on Seswenna any longer. Corin is turning five soon and Macero had been hinting heavily at how was time for the boy to start his training and that it was way overdue for her to produce another child. Macero has plans and a schedule to keep.

But as neither scenario was an option for Dulsissia, she found a ship going to the most distant, dark corner of the Galaxy, scraped together some credits that Macero didn’t know about and bought two tickets. 

She and Corin left that very day.

As there was no way for her to bring lots of credits without alerting Macero, Dulsissia brought as much jewellery as she dared, hoping that would be enough to last them a good while, but she had no idea that decent living quarters, servants and proper food were so expensive. And while she’d been aware of that she’d have to find some way to earn a living for her and her son, Dulsissia quickly learned that none of her skills were something that someone one this foreign, gritty and vulgar planet were willing to pay for. Here credits went to food and booze, not fashion and beauty. Here there was nothing but concrete on the ground and thick, suffocating smoke in the sky.

It hadn’t taken long before they were running out of funds and this is why they now no longer have a roof over their heads and why the food has been so scarce the last couple of days.

Her sweet, sweet boy has been so good these months. Hardly asking any questions, never complaining, simply following her like a baby-Porg with blind trust and love. Dulsissia’s heart is breaking over the fact that she’s going to fail him.

They can’t go on like this. She refuses to let him starve. They will go back and she will face Macero’s wrath before she lets her child end up like one of the unfortunate souls they see scuttling around in the alleyways here.

Lost in her misery, she doesn’t notice the danger until it is too late. An arm goes around her waist and she’s yanked away from her son. Corin calls out for her, his thin voice filled with panic, but she can’t reply as a dirty hand covers her mouth and she is fighting to free herself.

It’s a human man drawling all kinds of horrible things into her ear, clearly drunk and unwilling to pay for female company. A second voice joins in. Two of them.

Dulsissia panics, just like her son, but no matter how she fights; they are too strong and she can’t break free.

The sound of a blaster being fired is frightfully loud, but as the man lets go of Dulsissia; she’s too busy breaking free and running forward to drop to her knees and cradle Corin protectively against herself to care. The boy clings to her with desperation.

A second shot. Someone nearby falls to the ground. Dulsissia tries to cover Corin’s ears and closes her eyes while hot tears trail down her face.

She never should have left. She should have found a different way. She should have never brought Corin here. Even Macero was better than this. She would have found a way to shield Corin from his wrath. She never should have left…

“Are you two okay?” A slightly robotic voice asks.

Tensing up, Dulsissia hesitates, wondering what new horror will follow what she’s just been through, then slowly looks up at the towering shape standing there.

It is a humanoid looking being, but it is wearing blue armor and a blue helmet concealing their face. They holster a massive blaster and the helmet tilts a little in what could almost look like concern.

Dulsissia nods. She keeps Corin close, shielded from the stranger. “Thank you.” She says in a half-whisper as her throat hurts from trying to scream earlier. She hopes good manners might keep the stranger, who looks like a male, in a benign mood and that he’d not simply take over where the others had left off.

“This area is not safe. Where are you going?” The stranger asks.

Dulsissia hesitates, reluctant to tell him anything but scared she might provoke him if she doesn’t. She’s very aware of the two bodies still twitching on the ground. She says the first thing that comes to her mind. “The marked.”

A moment of silence, then the helmet nods. “I’ll escort you two there.”

There is another jab of reluctance, but Dulsissia doesn’t dare decline. Also, if they are around others, he might not dare to do anything… unseemly. She slowly straightens, keeping one hand on Corin’s head as he shifts to cling to her leg instead of her torso. “That would be very kind of you.”

The stranger turns and takes a couple of steps before he stops and looks back at her.

Dulsissia takes a deep breath, strokes Corin’s hair and then the two follow this armored stranger.

-

Their mysterious saviour doesn’t speak again until he comes to a halt at the outskirts of the busy marketplace filled with all kinds of shouting merchants and odd smells. “Will you be okay here?”

Dulsissia nods again, eager to be rid of him.

“Mommy…” Corin tugs at her skirts. “I’m hungry…”

“I know, baby.” Dulsissia replies, stroking his hair and feeling the urge to cry again. She wants to crouch down, look him in the eyes and explain things, but she doesn’t dare take her eyes of the stranger.

He’s looking at Corin.

“Can we eat here, Mommy?” Corin asks with hope in his voice.

“Later, baby.” Dulsissia replies and hopes with all her heart that she isn’t lying.

The helmet shifts its attention up to her, the t-shaped visor feels like it is burrowing under her skin, and the stranger stares at her for several long seconds. “Let me buy you some food.”

Dulsissia swallows hard. “That is very kind of you, but you’ve already done enough…”

A glance down at Corin again and then back at her, and the stranger nods towards the food stalls. “Come. The boy can choose. Anything he wants.”

Corin tugs eagerly at her skirt and she dares a glance down at her son. His eyes are filled with excitement instead of worries for the first time since they’d been forced to leave their apartment. His little face is dirty, she notes with a jab of disappointment in herself. Forcing herself to smile, she nods to Corin and makes herself look at the stranger’s visor. “If you insist.”

The stranger gestures for them to take the lead and they do.

Not long after that, they are seated by a table, Dulsissia and Corin on one side, the stranger sitting at the opposite side, and the boy is inhaling the huge plate of deep fried ‘something’ in front of him. Dulsissia uses the opportunity to wipe off some of the dirt on Corin’s face before shifting more food from her plate over to his.

The silent stranger watches her and while she can’t see his eyes, she can feel them. Strangely enough it doesn’t feel like he’s ogling her like those men had. Dulsissia gets the feeling that he’s trying to figure her out. Like she’s some puzzle to him.

Like he wasn’t the mysterious one? Appearing out of the shadows to save her from horrors? Offering to buy food for her child? Declining to get anything to eat for himself but insisting she get food too.

Dulsissia looks directly at his visor, sees the helmet move a little as he shifts his gaze away, if she didn’t know better she’d say a little embarrassed after getting caught looking at her. “What is your name?” She asks.

“I’m Davarax.” He replies. “May I ask for yours?”

“Dul-” Oh, old habit, she wasn’t supposed to use her real name, “-cy. I’m Dulcy. And this..” Dulsissia places her hand on Corin’s head to introduce him, but the boy beats her to it.

“I’m Corin!” He grins, mouth filled with food.

Dulsissia closes her eyes for a second. So much for not using their real names. She glues on a smile and looks over at Davarax again. “Dulcy and Corin.”

“Why are you wearing a helmet?” Corin asks and she prods his shoulder, reminding him not to speak with his mouth full and to stop asking questions. He closes his mouth and chews.

“I am a Mandalorian.” Davarax replies, as if he didn’t mind answering. (Macero would always get annoyed when Corin asked about anything.) “My Creed tells me to always wear it.”

“Always?” Corin’s eyes go huge again. “How do you eat?”

Davarax exhales what sounds like a little laugh. “I can take it off when I’m alone.”

Dulsissia frowns a little. She’s heard about Mandalorians, has she not? Mercenaries? It would certainly explain why he was so efficient in shooting those two men and seem completely unfazed by the situation. It would also explain why he’s so… muscular.

“My turn to ask a question.” Davarax says and turns his attention to her. “Do you have a weapon?”

-

Suddenly all the anxiousness that had been starting to seep away rushes back into her and Dulsissia tenses up. She tries to keep a blank expression. She shakes her head.

Sighing, Davarax nods. “Thought as much.” He reaches down his side. “On this planet, looking like you do and with a kid to keep safe, you’re going to need a weapon to protect yourself and him with.” Pulling up a fierce looking vibro-blade, Davarax doesn’t activate it, merely flips it over to hold the blade while offering her the hilt. “Here. Take it.”

She hesitates, but eventually Dulsissia cautiously reaches out and takes the weapon. It feels cold and heavy in her hand. For the third time in a short time, Corin’s eyes grow huge.

“Don’t hesitate.” Davarax tells her. “If someone comes after you, deal with them. Swift and hard. No regret. Understand?”

Looking from the blade and over to him, to the emotionless t-visor, Dulsissia manages a faint nod.

It’s the first time she’s ever held a weapon of any kind. Not counting cutlery. Or gossip. An actual weapon. And she’s not entirely sure she likes the feeling. It’s intimidating.

But she pulls the blade close and decides to keep it. While she might not like the feel of a weapon, she will use it to protect her son. That’s not even a hard choice to make. “Thank you.”

Davarax nods, pleased at her accepting it.

“Why are you helping us?” Dulsissia asks, shame burning in her cheeks at having to accept pity from strangers.

“Because you needed help.” Davarax replies. “Because no real Mandalorian will turn their back on a child in distress.”

Suddenly curious, Dulsissia asks before she can stop herself. “Do you have children?”

“Four. Four amazing little ones.” Davarax replies with badly hidden pride. His shoulders even pull back a little in a preening move that he’s definitely not aware of as he follows it up with an awkward shrug right after. “I mean… Technically they’re not mine. I’m their teacher.”

Dulsissia can’t help but to smile, charmed by his reply, and she remembers how she’d wished her tutor had been her real father. “Lucky them.”

Davarax shrugs again and to her amusement, the mighty warrior does appear a little awkward. He probably did not mean to reveal so much about himself. She hides a smile by daintily picking up a piece of food and nibbling on it while moving the rest over onto Corin’s plate.

“Should I get some more?” Davarax asks. “You should eat some too, you know.”

Dulsissia shakes her head, despite the hunger gnawing in her belly. As long as her son is full, she’s fine. And while Davarax did not hesitate to buy whatever food Corin had pointed at and has given her what looks to be a valuable vibroblade, she’s not blind to the worn down look of his armor and clothing. He might be generous, but he’s not rich.

After stuffing himself beyond what he probably should by cleaning the plate yet again, Corin makes a faint sound of pain and moves over to lean against her. “My tummy aches….”

“I’m not surprised,” Dulsissia replies with a smile, leaning down and kissing his hair, “you ate like a Rancor.”

Corin laughs a little but remains leaning against her and it doesn’t take long before he’s drowsing.

Sighing, Dulsissia strokes his dark hair and feels the guilt suffocating her again. Her poor boy is finally full, but now the exhaustion from barely any sleep over these last couple of nights is setting in and she needs to find out where to seek shelter for the night without any credits to pay for it.

Either Davarax reads her mind or he just picks up on Corin’s exhaustion, but he once again looks at the boy and then her and asks his question. “Where are you staying tonight?”

Dulssisia clenches her jaw and looks away. The humiliation burns.

A second pass, then two, and finally it seems like he understands. “Oh.” Silence follows and if not for how Corin is more of less asleep on her arm, Dulsissia would have walked away.

“Listen,” Davarax says, shifting his weight a little, “don’t take this the wrong way, but you two could join me in my room. This place is even less safe at night.” He shrugs one shoulder. “I would rent you your own room, but, well, they’re really-”

“Expensive, I know.” Dulsissia cuts him off. Her face is burning even hotter now, both with the continued humiliation of being broke and what sharing a room with a strange man might include.

“I give you my word you’ll be safe.” Davarax says with firm conviction. “Both of you.”

Dulsissia knows she shouldn’t. She knows it could be a trap. But she also knows she needs to find a place her son can sleep without fear or danger hanging over his head. “Tell me the names of your children.” She asks.

“Paz, Barthor, Raga and little Din.” Davarax replies no hesitation, but with a touch of confusion. “Why?”

Dulsissia smiles and shakes her head. “No reason. Just curious.” So he wasn’t lying about the children. He knew their names by heart. A teacher. She decides to risk it.

-

Corin is fast asleep by the time they decide to head to the inn. Dulsissia hoists him up and grunts with the effort. He’s still her baby boy, but he is definitely getting bigger. Arms and legs hanging down, dangling with the apathy only a sleeping child can produce, Corin burrows his face to her neck and sleeps on.

Seeing her struggle, Davarax reaches out. “Here. I’ll take him.”

“No.” Dulsissia’s answers is short and hard, and she turns to shield her son from the Mandalorian.

No one is taking her son away from her.

Davarax lifts his hands in a sign of backing off and nods. He then gestures to one of the large buildings looming behind the others. “This way.”

Dulsissia tries to focus on Davarax as they walk to avoid thinking about the weight of Corin. (He must be extra heavy from all the food.) The Mandalorian is tall. Dulsissia had some height on most women on Seswenna, but he is so tall he makes her seem short. And while the armor might make him seem even bigger, there is enough of him without the blue plates so she can tell that, yes, there is definitely muscle there. He walks with the grace of a predator.

Dulsissia feels a prickle of fear and is actually grateful for the reassuring weight of the vibroblade in her pocket.

They enter a grey tower of a building, head up to the third floor, passing by one rowdy soul after another, before entering the safety of their temporary refuge. The relief of being inside is quickly snuffed out by Dulsissia seeing, with rising despair, that there is only one bed in the room.

She clutches the sleeping Corin close, but doesn’t get the chance to panic or run for the door before Davarax walks over to the transparisteel and flips the switch to block the sound and light from outside and says; “Don’t worry. You two take the bed. I’ll sleep on the floor. It’s okay, it’s what I usually do on missions anyway. Few places I travel to have inns.”

Dulsissia hesitates. It feels wrong that the man who had paid for the room was now forced to sleep on the floor, but… She looks at the sleeping boy in her arms and her heart breaks again. Her pride dictates that they’ve accepted far too much charity from this stranger as it is, but her maternal heart doesn’t care. Her boy can sleep in a bed tonight.

Gently easing Corin down on the bed, a wistful smile appears on her face when he makes a happy sound at the soft mattress and Dulsissia tucks him in. Once that is done, she turns to look over at where Davarax has settled on the floor next to the wall with the transparisteel.

He lies on his back, hands folded on his stomach, his blaster on the floor next to him, and his visor staring up at the ceiling. His helmet. He can’t even remove his helmet as long as they’re there. He hasn’t eaten either, only provided food to them.

Dulsissia swallows hard, reaches out and takes one of the two pillows on the bed, the one Corin is not using, before cautiously making her way over to Davarax. She holds it out to him.

He shakes his head. “I don’t need it. I’m used to this and the helmet has padding. It’s fine.”

“Please.” Dulsissia says. Her final fragment of pride giving up. She can’t pay him back, but… she can give him her pillow.

He looks over at her, watches her for a couple of seconds, then he slowly reaches out and takes the pillow. “Thanks.”

Dulsissia nods, turns away and walks back towards the bed and her sleeping son. She’s almost there when she hears Davarax speak.

“Are you two running away from something?”

With her back towards the Mandalorian, Dulsissia stands by the bed and looks at Corin. He looks peaceful and content. It takes so very little to make that boy happy. “Yes.” After everything this man has done for them, she can’t lie.

“Is there someone out there hunting you?”

Dulsissia closes her eyes. She sees Macero’s face. She knows he was probably beyond livid when he discovered what she’d done; taken their son and disappeared. Left him. She knows his pride will never give up and that he is searching for them this very moment. “Yes.”

Davarax doesn’t ask any more questions so she climbs into bed and curls herself around her son. She has no idea what to do tomorrow, but Dulsissia is so very, very tired… and soon she’s asleep.

-

A gentle grip on her shoulder wakes her the next morning and she opens her eyes with a violent start that also wakes her son and has him go from relaxed to frightened within a second.

“Sorry.” Davarax says, pulling his hand away. “I tried to call your name. Neither of you responded. I was starting to worry there was something wrong.”

Dulsissia sits up and automatically pulls Corin close, wrapping her arms protectively around him despite how he calmed the second he saw the Mandalorian. “No, I’m sorry. I guess I was more tired than I…” She sees the small table to the left has several small containers with what her nose tells her is food. Davarax can’t eat his breakfast before they’re gone. “...than I was aware of.” She lamely finishes and dreads the second Corin smells it too. How is she to explain to him that she has no breakfast for him? “We’ll be out of your room in a minute.”

Davarax gestures to the table. “Eat. Please.”

Corin’s head snaps up and he scouts around the room. “Breakfast?” He starts pushing his mother away, trying to free himself. “So hungry!”

“Baby, no.” Dulsissia says, holding him back. “That’s Davarax’ food.”

“I ate earlier.” Davarax says, walking over to flip the switch that will make the tansparisteel let light and sound in again. “This is for you two.”

Letting Corin go in another wave of defeat, feeling like an utter failure, Dulsissia just sits on the bed while her son eats. Corin happily digs into the containers and pulls out treats with glee.

“Dulcy…” Davarax says, and his voice is suddenly so very soft and gentle. Like he isn’t some random stranger they just met, who has done more for her son than she’s been able to do in days. Like he is someone who cares. “You have to eat.”

Nodding, she’s used to doing what she’s told, Dulsissia gets up and walks over to the table. The first mouthfuls are difficult, she’s struggling not to spit it back out, but then Corin looks over at her and gives her a wide, happy grin. He lost a tooth last week. Her sweet baby boy.

Okay, enough self-pity. Keep going, girl. For Corin.

Dulsissia eats.

By the time they leave the room, Corin is both filled up with food and sleep and is once again the energetic child she’d seen during the first weeks of their freedom. He’s running around, exploring and darting back to her and Davarax when things get too scary, and Dulsissia smiles. She has a moment of fear when Corin decides to jump up and grab a hold of Davarax’ arm and use him as a rope-swing, but instead of getting angry, the Mandalorian merely sways him back and forth. He even answers every single one of Corin’s billion questions until Dulsissia orders her son to stop pestering the man.

The sun is almost strong enough to break through the heavy smoke in the sky today. Corin is watching a couple of teenage Zabraks play some game with a leatherball in an empty parking area while Dulsissia and Davarax sit on a fallen tree nearby.

“Your children,” Dulsissia says, happy to pretend this is just a normal day, “what are they like?”

Davarax hums and there is a smile in that sound. “Paz was my first. He’s a handful. He’s as tall and broad-shouldered as kids five years older than him and he loves to pick fights. But once you get under that tough surface, that boy is a giant softie who thinks it is his job to look after everyone. Barthor, my second one, is the most clever creature I’ve ever met. His intelligence is off the charts. He gets frustrated because the rest of us take so long to catch up to what he already knows, poor soul. Now, my third, Raga…” Davarax sighs and looks over at her. “She’s the scary one. Paz more or less persuaded me to train her because no one else wanted her. Her temper, teeth and absolute lack of fear has made her quite infamous at the Covert. It’s a shame so few get to see her sweet side, because she does have one.” The Mandalorian turns his attention over to Corin. “And then there is little Din. Your boy reminds me of him. I found Din shortly after his parents were killed. He was adopted by some friends of mine, but I get the feeling it’s not going too well…”

Mesmerized, Dulsissia cannot imagine for a second that Macero would be this caring about any of his children that he’d end up having. “They are lucky to have you.”

Davarax shrugs. “I feel like I’m the lucky one. Children are a blessing to Mandalorians.”

Smiling, Dulsissia looks over at Corin as well and they sit in silence for a while.

“I have to leave soon.” Davarax says, blurting it out as if he’s been holding it in for a while.

The words act like a fist clenching around Dulsissia’s stomach. She’d known this was just a temporary break in the nightmare that is her life these days, a brief respite, but she still hates that it has to end already. “Oh.” Corin is going to be devastated too.

“I finished my mission this morning when I got the food.” Davarax says. “I have to go back to the Covert. Report in. Check on my kids. Do some repairs on my ship.”

Dulsissia nods, but can’t look over at him. “I understand.” She forces herself to smile again. She’s good at that. “Well, thank you for everything you’ve done for us. For saving me, but most of all for the kindness you’ve shown Corin. He hasn’t had much of that in his life…”

Davarax doesn’t answer right away and she worries that her words hadn’t been grateful enough. She’s just distracted by how she can feel despair snapping at her heels at the thought of what lies ahead of her. She will fight a way to feed and house her son, but she knows it won’t be easy. And it scares her how close she’d been to going back to Macero…

“You could come with me?” Davarax says the words with the amount of caution you’d use for a skittish dewback. “You and Corin, you could come stay at the Covert for a while. You would be safe from alley creepers and no one would find you there.”

Dulsissia stares at him. “But… I’m not a Mandalorian. Neither is Corin.”

“The leader of our Tribe will let you two stay if I ask her.” Davarax sounds certain in his words. “I promise you, there will be a place for you there. We can teach you how to fight, how to protect yourself and your son. We can help you keep him safe.”

Dulsissia considers it, looks over at her son and knows what he would say, but the boy is too trusting. Corin still thinks his father is a good man at heart. “If he found out, he would destroy your Covert. I can’t repay your kindness by bringing evil to your door.”

“I can promise you,” Davarax leans closer, “that if this fool tries to challenge my Tribe, we won’t be the ones to be destroyed.”

#the mandalorian his son and the storm trooper #Dulsissia Motti #Davarax #Baby Corin #Fearsome Four #Mandorin AU #I SWORE I WOULDN'T WRITE THIS

[clonemando]

A soft Boba/Din one shot with a lot of domestic dad Boba cooking with Grogu. Not really much plot, all fluff.

"Oh, so now you use the force? You couldn't use it to get the package from the top shelf for me but floating yourself onto the counter you can do. I see how it is kid." Boba grumbled poking Grogu in the belly making him giggle while he waddled closer to watch as Boba carefully filled the dough circles he had made with a filling of spicy meats and veggies and then folded the dough over and scored it to make little hand pies.

"We'll need to fry them. But my buir and I used to make these together. We had to use fish since there wasn't much else on Kamino but otherwise the idea is the same." Boba murmured and Grogu's ears flicked up and he reached for one. Boba stopped him.

"Wait, I'm not letting you touch with those little grubby lizard grabbing claws. You need to wash up first." He said picking Grogu up and carrying him to the sink after wiping his own scarred hands off on a towel. Grogu babbled as he let Boba help him wash his claws.

"Yeah, cooking is a big deal to Mandalorians. Every clan had their own secret mix of the best spices and seasonings. Cooking for someone outside your clan and using the family recipe was like... a big deal. At least that's what buir told me. According to him Jaster couldn't cook to sabe his life so Clan Mereel's secret ingredient was the taste of charcoal." He laughed lightly and Grogu chirped eagerly at the sound immediately going back to his piece of dough once Boba brought him back to the counter.

"Be careful, the filling hasn't been cooked yet. I know your body seems to process raw food well enough but just to be safe, don't get it in your mouth. Plus it's really spicy." Boba warned him and showed him how to do it again, putting a spoonful of filling on the dough and making another half circle pie. Grogu used the force to lift the filling from the bowl and put it on his dough then used his little claws to fold it over and score it before looking at Boba to make sure he did it right.

"Lek, good job ad'ika. Put it right here on the tray. Here, I'll mark this one so you know it's yours." Boba said easily adding an extra mark to his so they could find ot once it was cooked.

They both made plenty more, Boba continuing to tell Grogu stories about Jango and what he had heard of Jaster. Once they brushed all the pies with oil and added some salt to them they were placed in the oven and Boba helped Grogu wash his hands again before offering him some cut fruit to snack on while they waited.

"-and that's why you never yank on a strill's tail." Boba finished with a grin Grogu nodding sagely seeming to be listening to every word with all his attention until he noticed Din and squealed happily making grabby hands at his father until Din picked him up.

"Thank you for watching him Boba. I appreciate it." He said but Boba straightened and the smile that he had been wearing easily had faded back to his normal blank expression.

"The kid was well behaved, I didn't mind. Did you enjoy your date?" He asked not looking at Din as he turned off the oven and grabbed a thick towel to pull out the trays of pies from the oven once the timer nearby chirped. Din tilted his head setting Grogu down again to reach up and take off his helmet.

"Date? What do you mean?" He asked confused and Boba turned and almost dropped the tray.

"You can't just- You... Ugh your face!" He grumbled and Din grinned, unable to help enjoying the fact ge had caught Boba off guard.

"Yeah, I do have a face. You of all people should know that. I didn't think you minded me taking off the helmet." He said and Boba sighed stopping Grogu from touching the pies.

"Not yet. They're still hot." He warned Grogu before looking at Din.

"I don't care what you do. It's your face. Vizsla took you out, right? You went on a date. That's why you needed me to watch the kid." He pointed out crossing his arms and leaning against the counter.

Din raised an eyebrow. "Is that why you made that face when I asked for your help? You were jealous?" He asked and Boba immediately scowled.

"I'm not jealous! You can date whoever you want! We aren't riduur." He huffed but Din looked over at Grogu before back at the food.

"You're teaching my son how to cook Fett recipes while telling him stories." He pointed out.

"I was keeping the little frog out of trouble. Don't read so far into it Djarin." Boba countered but didn't move and Din stepped closer.

"Boba... Paz is my cousin. I'm not dating him. That would be awkward. My mother was a runaway from clan Vizsla and was Paz's aunt. Paz needed my help because he's adopting a foundling and wanted me to help him childproof his ship because I have experience." He explained lowly as he held Boba's gaze the pair bumping heads when Grogu suddenly yelped and they both jumped turning to see him with a half eaten pie in front of him and waving his claws and hopping making Boba laugh and move to pour Grogu some blue milk which the kid immediately gulped down and sighed before pointing at the pie and glaring as he babbled.

"I warned you it was spicy ad'ika. Here..." Boba got out some cream and put it on the pie encouraging Grogu to try it again which he did cautiously before relaxing when the spice wasn't as strong now.

"See, that's why you wait and let the grown ups help you. Even if you're actually older than both of us." Boba laughed but it was cut off when Din dragged him close and kissed him.

"We should get Paz to baby sit for us so I can actually go on a date. Have an ideas?" Din asked resting their foreheads together and Boba sighed.

"Just a few... But first... Would you like to join Grogu and I for dinner?" He asked and Din grinned in return.

"I'd love to." He agreed.

#star wars #boba fett #the mandalorian #din djarin #Grogu #Bobadin #Boba/Din #Good dad Boba #fluff #fanfic

[swan-of-sunrise]

Taking Care of Business (Chapter Ten)

Summary: Din and (Y/N) spend the next couple of weeks trying to repair the Razor Crest themselves, and his close proximity to the beautiful captain begins to stir up complicated feelings for Din.

Pairing: Din Djarin X Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: I hope you all enjoy!

Chapter Ten The Repairs (Previous Chapter)

“Son of a mud-scuffer, Mando!” (Y/N) groaned in pain, making no attempt to get up off the floor of the ship that she’d been knocked down onto. “Ow…you did that on purpose…”

Beneath his helmet, Din rolled his eyes in exasperation; he stood above the captain with his hands resting on his hips as he heaved a sigh. “That’s kinda the point, isn’t it? An attacker’s not gonna go easy on you just ‘cause you asked them nicely to.”

Din, (Y/N) and the child had been traveling through space for a little over three weeks; in that time, they’d been slowly but surely working on the repairs that the Mon Calamari hadn’t completed. Neither of them were very knowledgeable mechanics, but they did their best as they worked side-by-side.

Whenever they weren’t doing repairs, they relaxed in the cargo hold; Din would work on cleaning his weapons and entertaining the child while (Y/N) sewed, and they’d usually fall into easy conversation. True to her word, she’d quickly completed a new robe for the child – much to the kid’s delight – before starting on what appeared to be a golden-yellow dress. The captain hadn’t said anything to Din about his impromptu gifts of fabric and sweets, but he could clearly see how much the gesture meant to her; he’d often sit and secretly watch her work, admiring how carefully her hands moved across the delicate material and how her eyes narrowed in concentration. She was happy, and he was proud that he’d been the one to help give that to her.

But whenever they weren’t working or relaxing, they were training; Din hadn’t forgotten his promise to teach his partner how to fight and after their recent adventures, he decided that it would be wise for her to learn sooner rather than later. I’d feel a lot better going to Corvus to confront a Jedi if I knew she’d be safe, he thought to himself one evening as he lay awake in his bunk, remembering how easily she’d been overpowered by the Black Sun operatives and the bandits on Tatooine.

“Okay, okay,” He watched as (Y/N) gritted her teeth and clambered to her feet, her brow covered in perspiration. “Can you repeat what you said one more time before we try again?”

“Of course. More often than not, you’ll go up against attackers who’re bigger than you and maybe even stronger, so you use all that to your advantage; a well-placed kick or punch could easily change the course of a fight, but what really matters is that you act faster than they do.” Moving to stand in front of her, Din gestured for her to raise her fists. “Now, I’m gonna attack you and you’re gonna do whatever you can think of to knock me down. Got it?”

(Y/N) nodded, her eyes narrowed and body tensed in preparation, and Din threw his first punch. His partner managed to block it and twist out of the way of his second attack, sucker-punching him hard in his un-armored stomach and hooking her leg around his as he doubled over in surprise; she took advantage of his off-balance by shoving him down, where he landed flat on his back.

Din couldn’t help but grin as the captain let out a celebratory cheer at her success. “I finally did it!”

“Good job, alor’ad…” Deciding to have a little fun with her, he held his arm out towards her; the captain, being the kind-hearted woman that she was, grasped his hand to help him stand and that’s when he acted. He yanked on her arm and brought a foot up to her stomach, flipping her over him and onto her back before quickly maneuvering so that he was straddling her waist and trapping her against the floor of the ship with his hands on her wrists. “…but you should never let your guard down around an enemy.”

Struggling to catch her breath, (Y/N) flashed him a teasing grin. “Mir'sheb. You’ve been waiting to do that since our very first sparring lesson, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” Din replied, only then realizing that his joke might not have been the smartest idea; in their current positions, their bodies were flush with one another and being so close to her was only causing his head to spin and his face to warm. In an attempt to save face in front of his partner, he hurriedly continued. “How would you break away from an attacker who has you boxed in like this?”

(Y/N) bit her bottom lip in thought as she considered his question; Maker have mercy on me, he thought to himself, swallowing hard and forcing himself to avert his gaze from the tempting sight. “Well, it seems like the only way to gain the upper hand in this, um…position, is to use the attacker’s weight against them.” Before he could reply, she hooked her right foot around his leg and in one fluid motion, she flipped them over so that she was straddling his torso and he was the one now lying flat on his back. “How was that?”

Din let out a breathless chuckle. “Perfect, alor’ad. You’re coming along great.”

“Well, I guess I have my ex-bounty hunter instructor to thank for that.”

“That mean you’re finally admitting that bounty hunters are better than smugglers?”

Her smirk widened and she shrugged noncommittally. “Maybe better at bragging, but that’s about it.”

As she looked down at him with (Y/E/C) eyes twinkling in amusement, Din realized with a sudden jolt that their innocent flirting was rapidly on its way to becoming something much more complicated; his gloved hands had somehow found their way to her hips while they talked, and one of the captain’s thumbs was resting tantalizingly close to the collar of his undershirt and was only centimeters from touching the bare skin of his neck.

With his heart hammering in his chest, he struggled to find his voice but was mercifully saved by a familiar coo; they both looked over to see the child standing beside them, his brow wrinkled in concern as he stared at them with widened eyes, and (Y/N) laughed. “Aw, it’s okay, little guy, I promise I’m not hurting Mando.” She moved to kneel next to the child and pointed towards Din, who was sitting up and trying not to think about how much he missed their closeness. “See? The only thing that’s bruised is his ego!”

“Just for that, alor’ad, you’re the one who gets to change the kid today.” Smirking at the look of stunned disbelief on (Y/N)’s face, Din got to his feet and made his way over to the ladder. “Have fun!”

Her protests followed him as he climbed the ladder to the cockpit to don his armor. “Oh, come on, Mando, I was only joking! Mando? Mando! Dank farrik…”

Once Din put his armor back on, he and (Y/N) decided to try their hand at some of the more complicated repairs in the cockpit. Their work kept them busy and at opposite ends of the small space, much to Din’s relief; the temptation to touch or even be near the captain like he’d been when they were sparring was overwhelming, but it helped a little to have a complex distraction to focus on.

“Hey Mando, could you hand me those pliers on the control panel?”

Din, who was seated in the pilot’s chair and had been busy testing which switches were still operational, glanced over and nearly fell out of his seat. (Y/N) was standing on the right passenger’s chair, her arms elbow-deep in an exposed panel full of tangled wiring, but that’s not what had stunned him; it was the full, unobstructed view of her trouser-clad hips and legs right in front of him. So much for those complex distractions, he thought with an inward groan, trying and failing to avert his gaze from the appealing sight.

“Mando? The pliers?”

“Right, right,” Giving his head a small shake, he grabbed the pliers and stood, leaning against the wall of the cockpit as he handed the tool to her. “How’re the repairs going up there?”

(Y/N) smiled to herself while she continued rewiring. “Well, we should be able to land safely and avoid plummeting to our deaths now but I’m not making any promises, though. What about you? Did you get the hyperdrive fixed yet?”

“No, not yet. I have to rewire the ship’s circuit board, which just so happens to be four feet behind that tiny opening there.” Din pointed to the opening in question before sighing. “You don’t think you’d be able to reach your arm in there, do you?” The captain shot him an ‘are-you-being-serious’ look, to which he merely shrugged and glanced back at the opening. “I figured I’d ask just in case. Unfortunately, it’s one of those kinds of repairs that a ship can’t function properly without; we just need to find something small to fit…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“…I’m beginning to think this might’ve been a bad idea, Mando.”

Din shot (Y/N) a look of disbelief from under his helmet. “But it was your idea!”

“Yeah, but you’re the one who agreed to it; as my partner, you really should have better sense than to indulge my off-the-cuff ideas,” (Y/N) retorted, crossing her arms as she knelt beside the small opening; she nervously bit her lip as her brow furrowed in worry. “He’s just a baby, after all.”

Although her comment was fair, her words sparked a surge of protectiveness towards the child. “He’s not just a baby, alor’ad, he’s special. He understands a lot more than people realize and with all the crazy power he has, I’m sure he’ll be able to help us rewire a simple circuit board.” Din turned back to the control panels and began flipping switches. “All right, let’s try this again…okay, do you have the wire?” He asked over his shoulder, hearing a faint coo as one of the ship’s alarms began to blare; pressing another button, he shut off the alarm and sighed. “No, nothing.”

He got up from the pilot’s seat and went over to kneel beside (Y/N) as she patiently called out, “Did you get the wire out? The red wire?”

Peering into the opening, Din watched as the child let out a small coo and raised the tiny hand that held the blue wire, and he pointedly ignored the skeptical look the captain threw him. “No, no. No, the red one, show me the red wire. The red one.” The child looked down at the wires in his hands before waving the blue one around, and Din fought the proud smile that was tugging at his lips. “Yes, good. Now, you’re going to plug that red wire where the blue wire goes in the board.”

“I think you might’ve confused him…” (Y/N) whispered as they both watched the child tilt his head; she leaned in closer and called out, “Okay, little guy, you’re gonna put the red wire where the blue wire goes in the board. Okay?”

“But don’t let them touch!” Din hastily added, noticing how close the two wires were to one another; the child tilted his head again and let out a confused sort of whimper. “You see where you took the blue one off?” The child held up the blue wire and he nodded. “Yes. Now, put the red one – no, don’t put the blue one back. Put the red one where the blue one was, and put the blue one where the red one was.”

With the added hand gestures, Din was confident that the child had understood his instructions but beside him, (Y/N) had resumed nervously biting her lip. “But be careful, little guy. They’re oppositely charged, so keep them away from each other; make sure you hold them apart.”

The child ignored the captain’s warning and while he brought the two wires closer, Din frantically shook his head. “No, don’t let them touch-” He and (Y/N) both jumped when the wires connected and sent an electric shock through the child’s body, briefly surrounding him in bright sparks and smoke; once it dissipated, Din hesitantly asked, “You okay?” The child coughed in response, but he seemed to be uninjured, much to Din’s relief. He glanced over at (Y/N) and met her ‘I-told-you-so’ expression with a sheepish sort of shrug. “Well, it was worth a shot.”

“If you say so, Mando. I’m gonna go prepare some broth for him now.” His partner got to her feet and gave his arm a pat before turning and making her way down to the cargo hold; her touch seemed to send an electric shock through Din, his skin flushing as he once again remembered their earlier closeness, and he let out a shaky breath.

Looking back to the opening, the sight of the child standing at its entrance with widened eyes caused him to smile. “C’mon, kid, let’s get you some lunch for your hard work.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Din sat beside the child on one of their storage containers and enjoyed some warm broth, since (Y/N) insisted that he needed to eat something as well. Although he’d explained that lifting his helmet to take sips of broth in front of her and the child wouldn’t break his Creed, she insisted on sitting behind him on her makeshift cot and sewing so that he’d have more privacy. Her consideration for his Creed was touching, but after his confrontation with Bo-Katan and the other Mandalorians on Trask, he found himself realizing that for the first time in his life, someone else cared more about his Creed than he did. His recent feelings towards his Creed were…complicated, to say the least; if what Bo-Katan said was true, then he’d grown up within a cult of religious zealots who’d coerced him into swearing a Creed than wasn’t truly Mandalorian but on the other hand, the so-called Watch had saved him as a child and raised him after he’d lost his parents, and that was a kindness he couldn’t just ignore.

“You’re kinda quiet over there, Mando.”

Smiling to himself at her unspoken question, Din lifted the bottom of his helmet up and swallowed a sip of broth before answering. “Yeah, just lost in thought. Are you ever gonna tell me what it is you’re making?”

Her laugh carried through the cargo hold, and Din was reminded of how much he enjoyed hearing the sound. “What’s it look like I’m making, a fathier blanket? It’s a dress!”

“Mir'sheb. I know you’re making a dress but I was just wondering…well, why? Dresses aren’t exactly practical in our line of work, alor’ad.”

The captain was quiet for a moment and just as Din silently cursed his bluntness, she replied, “Ever since I was little, I had a dream of settling down on a peaceful planet and opening up my own shop, just like my mother had done. But then the Empire tightened their control of Naboo, she died of illness and I fell into the smuggling life…and suddenly, my dream seemed irrelevant. When the Rebellion finally ended and the New Republic was established, I began thinking about that childhood dream again; the way I see it, if I can create this one thing with only my mother’s sketchbook and the memories of my old trade to guide me, then I’ll know whether or not I’m meant for the life I’d envisioned for myself.” The cargo hold was silent for a moment. “What about you? What kind of future do you imagine for yourself?”

“I don’t know,” Din answered truthfully, the words almost falling out of his mouth as he continued. “Living the life I’ve lead, I…well, a future’s never a guarantee, so I never allowed myself to imagine one. But if I had to, I don’t think I’d want any specific future…just a peaceful one…” He didn’t know what else to say; he couldn’t exactly follow up something heavy like that with a witty comeback, so he merely nodded and glanced down at the child, who was happily drinking the last of his broth. “You want some more broth, kid?” The child tilted his head and held out his empty bowl towards Din, who couldn’t help but smile as he ladled some more broth into it. “There you go.” The child began gulping down his second helping, and Din glanced around the derelict cargo hold with a sigh. “You know, there’s no way we’re making it to Corvus in this shape.”

“I’ll have to agree with you on that. With the hyperdrive broken, it won’t be long before we’re fighting off bandits and bounty hunters.”

“You know, I think we need to visit some friends for repairs,” Din remarked, turning around to meet (Y/N)’s curious expression. “How’d you like to visit Navarro?”

“Navarro, huh? I’ve never been, but it sounds a lot better than floating around in space like a sitting porg.” Setting aside her bundle of fabric, (Y/N) got to her feet and gestured over to the ladder with a tentative smile. “Wanna help me chart our course, Mando? You can tell me about these friends of yours while we work…”

Din nodded and the captain’s smile widened as she began climbing up the ladder to the cockpit. Making sure that the child had everything he needed, Din hurried up into the cockpit after her; maybe a peaceful future wasn’t in the cards for him, but he’d be damned if he didn’t enjoy the brief moments of happiness whenever he could.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Thank you guys so much for reading!

Mando'a Translations: Alor'ad-Captain Mir’sheb-Smart-ass

Chapter Eleven

Taking Care of Business Masterlist

Tagging: @remmysbounty @sinon36 @seninjakitey @thatonedindjarinfan @ginger-swag-rapunzel @mostclevermiss @momc95​ @welcometothepedroverse​ @sarahjkl82-blog​ @zukoyonce​ @itsnottilly​

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #din x reader #mando x reader #grogu #the child #baby yoda

[grace-likes-things]

Beside Her

Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

A/N: uhh it’s been a while. Here’s this! And here’s to me posting a random one-shot every two years lmaoooooo. Disclaimer: alternate reality where no one died/left after endgame.

Summary: A mission Peter’s off the job for, and which goes terribly wrong.

Warnings: blood, major character death, this one is v angsty folks.

Word Count: almost 6k 

~~~~~~~

“So, am I alright to go with?”

“No way, Peter. Your sling may be off but your arm can't handle the kind of wear you put it through yet. Give it another day or so.”

Peter sighs, exasperated, “But the mission’s tonight!”

“Nuh, uh, Pete,” my dad cuts in across the room, “You’re staying here, doctor’s orders. I told you we’d check, and we did, and Helen says no.”

“Mr. Stark—!”

“Not me, Helen, you really gonna combat her decision?”

Dr. Cho gives Peter a stern look, having had experience with his impulsively-gained-injuries before. He turns away, ducking his eyes, knowing not to challenge her. 

“Peter it’s fine,” I say, hand on his good shoulder, “You’ll join us on the next one.”

“If—“ my dad buts in, “he doesn't go shatter half the bones in his arm again. And don't go assuming you’ll be on the next one, Y/N, I'm hardly supportive of you coming with tonight as it is.”

I sigh, turning stubbornly towards him as he waltzes out of the room, “I've been training for over 3 years, dad I—“ 

“Nope. Still my kid, don't push your luck. We’re t-minus 1 hour out, so go get ready,” and with that, he turns the corner and leaves. 

“Sorry Pete, better luck next time.” Helen picks up her clipboard and departs, leaving us alone in the room.

I turn to Peter, who’s looking rather defeated about the fact that he won't be allowed on the first mission in three months. I nudge his shoulder playfully, “Hey, think on the bright side, now you get to snoop around the lab uninterrupted for a couple hours.”

He gives me a halfhearted smile, “Yeah? I still wish I could be out there with you.”

His eyes change into an anxious look. I look at him, sympathetic, and grab his hand in mine. 

Since the snap, the fight with Thanos, and almost losing my dad, Peter’s had this protective, premature-guilt complex concerning the people close to him. We got lucky not losing anyone, but I think seeing my dad recover from mourning us and the near-death experience I had in the battle, he’s not really comfortable being separated from us in a fight.

“I know. But it’s relatively minor, from what I’ve heard. I mean — minor enough to convince my dad to let me tag along, so.“

“Yeah, I know. I just hate not being there to have your back.”

I lean into his side, shoving him playfully, “You suggesting I can’t handle myself?”

“Absolutely not,” and I see I’ve forced a grin onto his face, “Just think, ya know, maybe your dad’s had a few too many juice pops lately, and I gotta be concerned — I mean, a gain in weight could throw off his balance in the suit—“ 

“Oh! Throwing my dad under the bus here, are we?” I laugh, “That’s funny, maybe I’ll mention it to him later.”

“Kidding! Don't tell your dad I said he’s fat — he's not.” He hangs onto my hand as I stand from the med-bay bed, “He’s a very fit man, you know, for his age.”

I laugh, “This just gets better and better! I’ll make sure to tell him you think he’s old too after I get ready.” 

I move to walk away, but Peter stops me, tugging my hand gently.

“Hey, but seriously,” he murmurs, “be careful tonight. Come back in one piece for me. Okay?”

“Of course,” I say, and lean my forehead against his, “And you have a fantastically boring night, let your arm rest. Don't get into any trouble.”

He kisses me long and gentle, “I’ll try not to.”

——————

Tonight’s mission was a fairly routine one. One of the lingering branches of Hydra left, hiding in a bunker and planning nothing good. We’d all been briefed on the most recent information about their weapons and tactics, and the team had decided tonight was the time to shut the place down. 

I examine the repulsors in the palms of my suit, sleeker like Peter’s, but armed similarly to my dad’s. There’s about 15 minutes before we fly out, so I tuck my braids beside my neck — getting my hair caught in the helmet seriously blows — and make my way up to the launch pad. 

“Hey, offspring!” my dad plants his hand on my head and shakes it, “You still wanna come along on this one? Sure you don't wanna stay home? Absolutely? Because you know, you’re welcome to, in fact, DUM-E's been missing you down in the lab, i’m sure he’d appreciate your company—“

“Nuh uh, old man, I'm going with. You said so.”

“Oh, so I’m old now? You know, I did end up with an extra five years than you, so you can cut me a little slack.”

I laugh and walk onto the quinjet to meet the team, “Never.”

————————

“You all remember your assignments?” Steve asks, “Me and Sam, Tony and Wanda, Nat and Y/N.”

A chorus of yes’s and nods follow, as if this wasn’t the fourth time we’d answered that question. 

The ride to the bunker is relatively boring, other than my dad pestering me with Stay with nat, and don't get distracted, and be careful, and don’t do anything I would do, and definitely don't do anything Peter would do. Nat and Wanda chuckle at my situation from across the quinjet, and it was getting pretty old by the time we landed a bit outside the target. 

Once we’ve all gotten set with weapons and coms, we start out on the jog to the bunker. Upon arriving there, Nat and I are tasked with stealing a hard drive that contains targets and weapons data. From what we know, it’s in a room close to the center of the building, so we have a long way to go while trying to get noticed as little as possible. 

My dad tells me to stay safe and call for him if needed before we part ways, and Nat and I are alone in a dark hall.

“Alright,” Nat whispers, “We move toward the center of the bunker, 4 floors down, we’ll use the vents if we have to. They might cause a scene somewhere else, but our job is to keep hidden, all the way in and out if we’re lucky.”

“And when are we ever lucky?” I murmur back with a smirk.

“Don’t jinx it, kid, let’s go.”

For the most part, the beginnings of the mission are easy. We used Friday’s heat signatures for a full week to map out the guards’ schedules, so we knew what halls to stick to and when. Making our way to the less-monitored maintenance stairwell, we walk in silence, keeping an ear out for updates over the coms. Just as we reach the bottom of the third flight of stairs, a pair of guards walks through the doors.

“Hello, boys,” Nat says and quickly turns to me, “I’ll take the tall one.”

With that, we spring to action.

The pair raise their weapons toward us, but Nat quickly disarms the man across from her while I blast the gun from the shorter man’s hand and drag him through the doorway before he can reach the alarm on the outside wall. Slamming him into the stair railings, he tries to get rid of me by throwing a headbutt my way, but my suit takes the brunt of the impact. Pulling my arm back and releasing his wrist, I aim a punch square at his face and hear a crack when it lands on his nose. After a disdainful grunt, he shoves me back and tries to kick my legs out from under me, but I quickly grab hold of his ankle and yank up. The man lands harshly on the floor, and one kick is all it takes to knock him out. 

When I look up, Nat has already beat her opponent and is checking the outer hall for more guards. “It’s clear,” she says, and we both take the ankles of the two guards and drag them through the door into the nearest room, tying them up securely before jamming the door in place. 

“I hope they enjoy a nice nap, let’s keep moving,” Natasha says, and we make our way back to the stairwell.

Finally on the fourth lower level, we hold ourselves with a bit more caution. This is where they guard more heavily, and we still have quite a ways to travel before we’re near the center of the building. With light steps, we make our way down the dimly lit halls, occasionally ducking through doorways and turning corners to avoid passing agents, guards and other workers. It seems as if most of the work they do happens down here, as we constantly see high-ranking members and people in lab coats muttering to one another as they roam the halls. I’m only able to catch a few words of any given conversation, and of the ones that were spoken in English, none of them sound pleasant.

Nat and I travel fairly uninterrupted for the next few halls before she stops me and says, “Alright, we’re close to the center now. The hard drive we need is going to be in a lab somewhere around here, so we’re checking rooms. If there are any heat signatures, we clear it together. If Friday doesn’t pick any up, we split and multitask.”

I raise my eyebrows, “Oh? Going against my dad’s orders, huh?”

She gives me a wry smile, “You seem to be able to handle yourself, and it’ll get us out of here faster,” she points at me, “Just don't make me regret it.”

I laugh, “I won’t.”

And with that, we start scanning the upcoming rooms.

The first room we check has a few Hydra agents inside, so we clear it together, check the computers for the right information and come up empty handed, breaking the doorknob and continuing on. We go about this for a while, knocking out the occupied rooms together, splitting up to clear empty rooms, checking for the right hard drive, and moving on. It’s tedious, but no alarms have been activated so far, and we make a good team. 

Now very close to the center of the bunker, we come upon another few rooms free of heat signatures, so we once again divide and conquer. We have to be getting close now.

“I’ll take this one on the left, you’ve got the right?” I ask, walking carefully toward the door.

“Gotcha, call if you find anything.”

I open the large metal door and take a cautious step in, examining the room around me. There are no lights on, so I use a light on my suit to see my surroundings. 

It’s strange, the room is large with high ceilings, but is pretty much empty. A few scraps of metal and packaging are strewn about the floor. Concrete floors and dark walls line the place. I take a few steps further in to double check that I haven’t missed anything, but all I see is one door on the opposite side. I turn back to exit when the entrance I came through slams shut in front of me. Alarmed, I run forward and try to open it, but the handle won't budge.

“Nat!” I whisper hushed through the coms, “The door shut behind me, can you get it from the outside?”

I hear her footsteps approach from the other side and the sound of her trying to open the door, “I can't get it, and the lock must be electric, there’s nothing to pick. How’d this close on you?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t see it.”

I hear a new voice over the coms, “Wait, did you two get separated?” My dad’s voice resounds with a hint of anxiety, “What did we talk about, Y/N? I said to stay with—“ 

“I tried! Not my fault the door shut behind me.”

“Well you should’ve gone through the door with Nat in the first place!”

“Hey!” Natasha’s voice cuts in, “While I would love to listen to you two bicker, we’ve got a job to do. She’s fine, Tony, we’ll figure it out.”

“I could just blast the door handle—“

“No, Y/N, it’ll be too loud, we’ve gotten this far without being noticed.” I hear Nat huff through the door, “It’s in our best interest to keep it that way. Friday’s telling me there’s another door, leads out to a hall. I can go around and meet you there. It's further toward the center, so at least if you have to blast the thing down we’ll be closer to the target.”

“Sounds good, I’ll wait for you,” I say, and with that, Natasha stalks off through the halls. 

I turn to make my way across the room, walking leisurely. This place really is unusually huge for a seemingly-unused underground room, about the size of a school gymnasium. I’m wondering if it may have been used for storage or training when I hear a noise to my left.

Turning swiftly with my guard now up, I see a male guard walk through a side door. Another entrance? How did I miss that? I ready my fists in a fighting stance and call through the coms, “Hey Nat? This room was occupied, I’ve got it handled for now but you might wanna make it here quick.”

Strangely, I get no response, but I don't have time to dwell on that fact because the man is charging toward me.

He’s a good fighter, and we both land some hard hits as we combat to occupy the room. I flip over him and blast him into the wall, but he recovers abnormally quickly and rises up again for more. I land another punch to his stomach once he’s in range, but he quickly grabs my wrist after and squeezes with inhuman strength, crushing the thin-design gauntlet on my hand. The metal cuts into my palm before tear what remains off and launch him over my shoulder onto the floor. I move to kick his side but he grabs my leg and throws me off balance, and my back hits the floor in a harsh slam. Groaning, I try to sit up as the guard grabs a metal pole off the floor — oh shit — and slams it onto my other palm, crushing my second gauntlet. Two hands now bare, aching, and unarmed, I continue to fight at a slight disadvantage. But I’ve trained for years, I can handle this.

It turns out maybe I couldn’t handle it. 

The guard has to be one of Hydra’s human experiments, because he’s stronger than the average adult. I struggle to gain the upper hand for several minutes. He's had me pinned me to the ground, and just when I think his weight is lifting off me he brings down the pole on my side. Hard. 

I groan and curl away. Even through the thin — and now damaged — metal of my suit, the blow took the air out of me. I press my palms to the cold floor to push myself up, but another blow strikes my back and I collapse forward. Finally, the man grabs a fistful of my hair and slams my head into the ground, and a ringing suddenly starts in my ears. Dizzy, head aching, and barely able to think, the next thing I register is being dragged across the room to the opposite wall by my wrists, which are then cuffed in front of me.

And strangely, the guard who put all that effort into beating me walks out of the room.

“Hey!” I shout, “What’s going on, asshole!? Come back here!” But he doesn’t return, and shuts that same side door behind him. I groan in frustration, head still pounding in pain, and try to reach the team again, “Anyone hear me? I’m still in this room, my gauntlets are broken and I'm cuffed, anyone around?” No response, “Hello?”

I’m starting to think Hydra somehow interrupted our signal when another noise distracts me from across the room. 

The door opens once again, and this time five people exit. Four guards and…

Peter.

A chill surges down my spine.

They’re dragging Peter into the room.

“Peter?” I call out, panicked, “Hey! What are you doing with him?”

He’s dressed in plainclothes, so he didn’t come here as Spiderman. He doesn’t look like he’s in the best condition, slumped and hardly fighting the guards who are carrying him to the center of the room. My mind starts racing with all the things they could’ve done — what’s wrong with him? How could they have hurt him so badly he isn't able to fight back, especially with his strength? I need to get him away from them, but if these four guards are anywhere as strong as the last, I need a plan of attack. Or backup. Where is the team?

And how did they get to Peter? Peter Parker, not Spiderman, so not out on the streets — he was supposed to be in the lab tonight. Did they get into the compound? Is anyone else hurt? My mind keeps spiraling into more and more panicked thoughts, and then I hear him.

“Y/N?” He calls out, “Where are we?” His voice is raspy and slurred, and I think they must’ve given him something, some sort of drug. I’m about to call back to him when a guard lifts him up and punches him in the stomach.

“No!” I shout, raising up to my knees and then beginning to stand before one of the four guards points his gun at me. I stay there, kneeling before the scene, not knowing what to do to stop either of us from getting hurt. The three remaining guards begin to beat on him again, kicking and punching and Peter is too delirious to serve any resistance other than curling up and grasping weakly at the ankles of the men hurting him. I can hear his pained whimpers, and my heart squeezes in my chest, I feel tears building in my eyes.

“Stop! Stop hurting him, what do you want?!” I scream, wanting to get closer to him but still at a stand still with the fourth guard, “Come on, tell me what you want! You’re not getting anything by just beating him!”

The three guards pay me no regard, but the fourth, still pointing his gun at me, snickers as if I’ve said something funny.

Peter is still at their mercy, receiving hit after hit and a voice in my head tells me, they’re gonna kill him. You have to do something or they’ll kill him.

“What do you want? Come on, what is it?!” 

And with a heavy accent, the man says, “To cause you misery.”

The chill returns, and I decide — despite my terrible odds — that I have to get them away from Peter. 

I get my feet firmly under me.

I charge toward the guard with the gun, bracing myself.

And he does something I didn’t expect.

He turns the gun on Peter.

I hear three shots.

“NO!” I scream, my eyes go wide and I drop to my knees once again, facing Peter and crawling toward him, “No, no, no, no, no!”

The guards shuffle back into the shadows, laughing, seemingly done with their job, but all I can see is Peter.

I’m frozen for a second, staring, shaking, unable to process the scene before me. He lies on his back, staring up at the ceiling, hands grasping at his chest where blood has begun to pour from three wounds. I race toward him and drop to the ground at his side, placing my cuffed hands firmly over the holes in his chest.

“Peter?” I say, my voice tight and choked, “Hey, hey listen to me, you’re gonna be okay. The rest of the team is here, my dad is here, he's gonna get us out, okay?” A few of my tears leak down onto my hands, running into the blood that now stains them.

“Y/N?” He mumbles, hardly able to speak.

“Yeah, it’s me, I'm so sorry,” I sniff and try to keep my throat from closing up, “I’m so sorry I couldn’t stop them but you’re gonna be fine, Peter, we’re gonna get help.” 

His face is twisted in pain, and when he tries to speak next, only a cough comes out, and blood bubbles out over his lips.

I fail to hold back a sob and move my hands to his cheeks, “Shh,” I try to get out, but it comes out shaky, like a whimper, “Shh, don’t— don’t try to talk.”

His eyes look into mine, I can see the pain behind them as he lies there, struggling to breathe. I stroke his cheek, and only now come to notice the blood I’ve painted there. I sob again. I don't know what to do, I don't know what to do, I don't know how to help him.

Can I?

Is it too late?

I cradle his head across my thighs, take one of his hands in mine and leave the other on his cheek, trying to provide some sort of comfort.

“I’m sorry, Peter, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry,” and I just keep saying it, breathing it out and heaving air back into my lungs between sobs. Tears are constantly tracking down my face now, and i’m doing all I can to subdue them while he’s still conscious, still looking at me. 

My mantra of apologies keeps repeating, and my thumb keeps stroking along his cheek, and I don’t know how long I sit there, crying, mumbling, desperately hoping someone comes to help us before I notice him release a slow, defeated breath.

In, out.

“Peter?” I mumble. My blood freezes in my veins. My breath stills. I wait for his chest to rise again. I watch and pray for it to happen. Please, please, please.

It doesn’t move.

A long, whining sob erupts from deep in my chest as I drop my head and cry, and cry, and cry above him, “No, no, no, no. Please, no.”

I sob, loud and painful, unable to take a breath in anymore. I shut my eyes and don't look up because I can't look at his face — his eyes are still open his eyes are still open. 

I’m never gonna see him again,

I’m never gonna hear his voice again, 

I’m never gonna kiss him again.

The pain in my chest gets worse and I feel dizzy with the force of my sobs.

And then suddenly there are arms under mine, and I'm being dragged backwards.

Away from Peter.

“No, no, no, no, let me go! Let me go!” And what i’m saying is barely coherent between the sobs, “Let me stay with him, please, please!” But the arms hooked under me don't relent, no matter how hard I pry at them, no matter how hard I kick and scream. He’s getting farther and farther away from me, alone in that room, and I can't bear the thought of it.

“Please, let me go!”

And suddenly I hear my name, as if through a haze, but I can’t make out who’s saying it. I don't really care. I have to get back to him, I have to stay with him, I can’t leave him alone.

“Y/N— “

“Y/N it’s us! Come on!”

I pull and pull at the hands around me but I can’t remove them, I keep getting pulled backwards until— 

I’m yanked through a doorway, and the room where Peter lies is dark and blank in front of me.

My hearing isn’t fuzzy anymore.

I gasp in surprise but the sobs haven’t stopped, and my father’s unmasked face appears in front of me.

“Y/N? Hey! You’re okay, we’re here!” His hands are on my face but I swat them away.

“No! Peter’s in there! We can't leave him! We have to take him home, we have to get him home—”

“Y/N— “

“Dad they shot him, I couldn’t help him, I couldn’t help him—“ my words dissolve again into cries of grief.

“Y/N he's not in there.”

I turn to him in confusion.

“He is!” I point my hand frantically toward the doorway, “In the middle of the room! They k— they killed him in there!”

“Y/N…” my dad speaks.

And it’s then that I notice my outstretched hand, pointing toward the door.

There’s no blood on it.

I start to shake harder.

“I- I saw it, I saw it happen I— “

And I notice the thin fog rolling out through the doorway, lazily dispersing along the floor.

I look up. I breathe heavy and shakily. The whole team is staring down at my red, tearstained face. Cap’s face is twisted into concern, Natasha looks sad and sympathetic. Hydra agents lie dead or out cold on the ground, alarms blaring, but no one takes any steps to exit. The raid is over…

And I can't see any blood on my hands.

“Y/N, it was a hallucinogen,” my dad says firm, but gently, “Whatever you saw in there wasn’t real.”

I stare at him, trying to make sense of this. It looked so real. It felt so real.

“But— but I saw it— I felt it, I could feel what they did—“ 

He gently breaks the cuffs from my wrists, “I know, I know kiddo, but it wasn’t real. They know how to get in your head.” 

I shake my head in confusion, “But the cuffs? And my gauntlets are broken—?”

“Whoever did that was real.” Nat cut in, “They hurt you so you wouldn't fight the simulation and then the drugs were pumped into the room.”

I sit there on the floor in front of the Avengers. Disbelief, confusion, and grief all playing across my face. 

“Check the room,” I demand.

My dad points a light into it, and Steve walks through, “No one here, see?”

My mind still races, it felt so real.

“Friday?” My dad speaks up, a gentle hand in my hair, “Where’s Peter now?”

“At the compound, sir, working on his suit in your lab.”

I sniff and mumble out, “Vitals?”

“All normal levels.”

I sigh, squeeze my eyes shut, and drop my head into my hands. A sob of leftover panic and relief fights its way out of my chest.

“C’mere,” My dad says, and pulls me closer to him, a soothing arm around my back.

“I need to see him,” I choke out, “I need to know he’s not— “

“I know, I know, we got the job done here, we’re going home.”

——————

I don't remember the walk back out of the compound. It’s all vague reassurances and worrying eyes. I think my dad buckled the straps around me once we got to the quinjet. 

The flight back is somber, quiet, despite the fact that we succeeded. I feel the entire team’s eyes on me, but I don't look up. I’m too busy sitting curled on my seat, staring down at my hands.

There was so much blood. So much of his blood.

I spend the next few hours staring, not speaking, unable to stop the images from replaying in my head. My dad sits beside me, stroking my hair, muttering things I can’t hear.

I thought he was gone. All I can hear are the choked, wet sounds of the blood rising from his throat, all I can see is the stark image of dark red dripping down his pale cheek. Pain in his eyes. His chest refusing to move.

“Y/N,” I think it’s the fourth attempt someone makes to get my attention, and I look up to see my dad kneeling in front of me, “We’re almost back.”

“He’s at the landing pad?” I whisper, my voice hoarse.

My dad takes my hand and says, “Yeah, I had Friday call him up.”

The next thing I’m aware of is the quinjet touching down, and I unbuckle the straps and stand up. My dad rests a reassuring hand on my back, and when the ramp lowers, he walks me forward. He can tell I’m still doubtful. He can tell a part of me still believes what I saw back in that room. 

But then we reach the ground and I see him.

Peter is standing back from the landing pad, accompanied by Pepper. He’s healthy, he’s standing on his own, he’s not bleeding, he’s not hurt, he hasn’t been shot, he’s okay.

He’s not dead.

I pick up the pace, walking out of reach of my dad, and once I’m close enough to see his eyes a sob fights its way up my throat and I throw my arms around his shoulders.

“Hey, shh, it’s alright,” his arms wrap firmly around my back, one hand landing in my hair and one stroking up and down my spine. His hair tickles my cheek, his shirt collar is bent out of shape — he never folds them right. He’s warm and strong and breathing and alive. I bury my face in his neck as another sob wracks through my body.

“What happened?” I hear him ask, confused, and his voice rumbles so low and soothing and I can feel it against my chest, hear it in his throat where my ear is pressed. I can’t stop my cries long enough to answer him but I realize the question wasn’t directed toward me.

“She’s not hurt,” my dad’s voice reassures him, “They messed with her head. She thought — she saw them hurt you—“

“I thought you were dead,” I croak out. My grip on him tightens and I let my hand trail to the curls at the base of his neck, let them twist around my fingers. My voice has risen an octave when I say, “You died, I saw you die.”

We sway for a moment, his hands still running down my back and through my hair, I don't think he knows what to say. I wouldn’t know, either. 

We stay there for a minute, and the rest of the team has walked inside to give us some space, I assume. 

After a while, when my sobs have quelled and I'm just quietly sniffling against him, I feel his hand on my cheek, pulling me back.

“Hey,” He whispers gently, wiping his thumb under my eye to clear away the tears there, “Good thing that wasn’t me then, right? I’m right here. And I’ve got proof— I was talking Dr. Banner’s ear off in the lab the entire time, he can vouch for me,” I let out a watery giggle at his antics, “You wanna go inside? Get you warm, patch you up?”

“Yeah,” I sigh out, disentangling myself from him, but keeping an arm around his side as we walk into the building, “Sorry, I’d give you a hello kiss but I’m pretty sure there’s snot running down my face.”

He chuckles and presses a kiss to the hair at my temple, “That’s okay, let’s get you cleaned up.” 

——————

After a brief period of time, I’ve showered, changed into pajamas, and am now sitting at the bathroom sink where my dad is bandaging the shallow cuts on my hands from the broken gauntlets. We sit in relative silence, and there’s no doubt from the look on my dad’s face that I appear just about as shell shocked as I feel. 

“Kiddo, you gonna be okay tonight?” He asks in a hushed voice. 

I don't look him in the eye, instead watching him work on my hands as I mumble out, “Probably not.”

He huffs with a bit of amusement, “Well, thanks for the honesty, I guess.”

He finishes up on my left hand and raises my chin to look him in the eye. I don't know what to say, so I let him speak first.

“Seriously, Y/N, that was heavy, what you went through. Don’t be afraid to ask any one of us for help, okay?” He looks me pointedly in the eye, already doubting I’ll take him up on that. I am his daughter, after all. 

“Yeah,” I whisper, “Got it.”

He stands with a sigh and puts the first aid kit back under my sink.

“Goodnight, come get me if you need me.” He presses a kiss to my head and leaves.

——————

Tony looks at the clock. 7a.m., three hours after they returned from the mission. 

“Friday? Has Y/N gotten any sleep yet?”

“No, sir. She spent a few hours in the kitchen with Mister Parker, but it appears as if they are both headed to their respective rooms now.”

“Alright. Alert me if she needs help, Fri.”

“Will do, sir. Goodnight.”

——————

“Sir, it appears as if Y/N is in distress.”

Tony wakes up to the alert just forty minutes after he’d laid down to sleep. He's quickly alert and shuffling out of bed, down the hall to his eldest daughter’s room. Although, when he turns the corner he sees Peter already at the door.

The teen looks up at him, “Hey, Mr. Stark. I— Friday told me she needed help. I was just gonna check in.”

“Me too,” Tony sighs, “You go ahead, Pete. It’s you she needs to see right now. Goodnight.”

The man turns to leave, but stops short of turning the corner. He says, tired, but playfully, “Door open, Parker.”

“Gotcha, Mr. Stark,” And the boy walks in to comfort his daughter.

Several hours later, after Tony’s gotten his meager version of a full-night’s sleep, and after a night he’s sure has held several nightmares for his daughter, he walks back past her door to make sure she’s okay.

He smiles warmly at the scene. Wrapped in Peter’s Midtown sweatshirt, his daughter sleeps, restless but quiet, leaning an arm over the boy she loves. He holds her secure, both their legs strewn about the covers, and Tony can't help but notice Y/N’s hand. Resting softly at the side of Peter’s neck, fingers in the hair behind his ear, and her thumb rests just over the boy’s pulse point. Thrumming gently in sleep, reassuring her — even in her unconscious state — that what she saw was fake. Peter is alive and well, sleeping soundly right beside her.

—————

Alrighty that’s it! Let me know how you liked it and thanks for reading!

#Beside her #Peter parker #Peter Parker imagine #marvel imagine #marvel #spiderman #Spiderman imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker fic #peter parker x y/n #Peter Parker x stark!reader #tom holland #avengers #imagine #mcu #Tony stark #dad!tony #stark!reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #Black Widow

[tailorvizsla]

If you're still doing thirsty thot prompts or asks. I've been wondering how Din or Paz or perhaps both would be as horny baby daddies? Like how would they act when you are really pregnant?

Title: Stuffed Pairings: f!Reader x Din Djarin, f!Reader x Paz Vizsla, Paz Vizsla x f!Reader x Din Djarin Wordcount: 8k+ 🙃🙃🙃 Rating: NC-17 (duh)

⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️ Read the warnings! ⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️

Warnings: Borderline CNC (consensual non-consent – Paz, Din, and Reader are all pretending that Reader doesn’t want to get pregnant), rough enough to need a safe word, PWP (plot what plot), threesome, lots of unprotected sex, gratuitous self-indulgence of a cum kink, degradation (Reader called a slut for cock/cum), breeding fetish (Reader legit wants to be bred), use of a sex toy, Reader gets called ‘kitten’, cockwarming, oral (m & f receiving), the helmets come off, exhibitionism/public(ish) sex. I’m pretty sure I’ve missed a few, but these are the most important ones.

⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️ Read the warnings! ⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️

Author’s Note: I know what you were intending with your ask, but I’m totally going to be a thirsty bitch. 😉 This is focusing mainly on the baby making steps. This is also purely self-indulgent smut because I would love for these two to take turns with me for a few days and knock me tf up.

Thank you for the title, my darling Izzy!!!

For more dirtiness, please see:

📚 My Master List 📚

“You’re both too old for that,” you announce to Paz and Din, watching as their heads snap up.

“What?” Din asks as you silently laugh to yourself.

“You said you wanted to make a baby,” you respond. “At your age, you probably need those herbal teas. And don’t get me started on you, Paz. You’re ancient. Can you even keep it hard?”

“Don’t you run your mouth,” Paz warns quietly.

A low tendril of heat starts to curl low in your belly as you hear the warning in his voice. Shut your mouth, or I will prove you wrong. You lean back on your hands, tilting your head as the two men watch you from the other side of the cargo bay.

“I’m not,” you respond. “I’m just telling the truth. Us young tradespeople need competent warriors to raise the next generation with. You two are past your prime.”

“Kitten,” Din warns, a low growl in his voice.

You smile to yourself under your helmet. These two have just reached their prime as hunters. They know it, and they know you know it. Din and Paz exchange a silent glance between themselves. Lifting one hand, you plant it on your lower belly, watching as Paz’s head tilts downward, pointedly watching you slide your hand up and down, as if caressing a baby bump. If there is one thing that never fails to get a Mandalorian’s attention, it is a pregnant belly.

“If I am going to go through nine months of pregnancy, it wouldn’t be for two ancient fuckers like you two,” you say casually. “I’ll be fertile soon, so I need to be very picky about who I sleep with. I’m thinking maybe Dezha? Mathias?”

When Paz growls, you grin. Dezha is older than him, and Mathias is pretty close to Din’s age. You swing your legs back and forth casually, tilting your helmet slightly in what you hope they interpret as flirtation.

“Do you have any opinions, Din?”

Din comes forward a step, tension radiating through every part of his body.

“I might have an idea,” he says, as Paz starts to circle around you.

You slide your hand down toward your crotch as you spread your knees for Din. His next step falters ever so slightly.

“You know a warrior who can breed a woman properly?” you ask in mock surprise as he comes closer, almost hesitating.

“Do you actually want a kid?” Din asks flatly. He’s so hard you can see the outline of his cock through his trousers.

“I’ll be ovulating this week,” you say, sliding off the table and onto your feet.

Paz and Din exchange a look before turning their attention to you.

“I just need to find a warrior worthy of my time,” you say with a grin. “Certainly not either of you two ancient bastards.”

With those words, you dart for the open doorway, and laugh as you hear Paz curse. Heavy footsteps follow you as you bolt toward the cover of the trees. Unfortunately, you seem to have forgotten that both warriors have jetpacks, and you do not. Din lands a few meters in front of you, cutting you off from escape. In that moment of distraction, Paz catches up to you and grabs you. Firmly, he turns you around to face him, the fingers of one hand looped around your belt and the others under your chin. He tilts your face up to his.

“Kitten, I am not playing games with you,” he growls darkly, sending a low throb of pleasure shooting deep in your belly. “If you keep mouthing off, you’re going to end up pregnant.”

“There’s no way you could ever knock me up,” you say to Paz. “At your age, you’re shooting dust, aren’t you?”

“I’m not joking,” Paz says flatly, fingers tightening in warning.

“Neither am I,” you tell him. “I’m ready for a baby, and I want the two of you to take turns with me.”

“Did you hear that, Din?” Paz asks.

“Sure did,” Din says.

“Tell me what you’ve been fantasizing about, kitten,” Paz murmurs, loosening his grip around your chin.

Swallowing, you work up the courage to tell the two men exactly what you want from them.

“I’ve been masturbating for months now, thinking about the two of you,” you say shyly. “Taking turns using my body like you’re paying me for it. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve come around my fingers to the thoughts of you two fucking me while I struggle, while I beg you to not finish in me.”

You aren’t quite sure what Din or Paz are into, so degradation and playing around with unwanted impregnation might be out of what they are willing to give. Shit. You are on the verge of apologizing when Din speaks up.

“Kitten,” he breathes. “You have such a vivid imagination.”

“I genuinely want to be bred,” you whisper meekly, looking down as you suddenly lose your courage. “But I want to be taken. I don’t want you to ask.”

Paz tilts your face up toward his, fingers as light as feathers on your chin.

“I’d be happy to put a baby in you,” Paz says. “But let me make one thing clear – I’m not going to hurt you. I have never enjoyed hurting my partners and I never will. If that’s what you’re after, I can’t help you.”

“Nor will I,” Din adds, hands settling at your waist.

“No pain,” you say softly. “Just…rough enough to need a safe word to stop, instead of a no.”

Paz nods slowly.

“That I can agree to,” Paz says, nodding slowly. “Safe word?”

“Behot,” you blurt out the first thing on your mind.

“Behot is the safe word,” Din confirms.

Paz turns you around and shoves you against Din. You let out a squeak of protest as one massive hand encloses both your wrists, Paz’s massive forearm resting lightly on your breasts as he restrains you. He ducks his head down, pressing his helmet against your shoulder.

“You’re going to regret running your mouth, kitten,” he growls.

You struggle against Paz’s firm grip as Din advances, undoing his belt. The sound of leather zipping through his belt buckle makes your knees weak.

“No, not a snowball’s chance on Tatooine,” you snap, kicking at Din’s ankle.

“Normally, I’d just throw you into the sparring rings and smack you around until you shut up,” Din says. “But you…you’re young, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, what about it?” you ask. “What, you afraid I’ll kick your ass?”

“Young means fertile,” Paz says, his arm tightening around you, forcing a little squeak out of you.

“We’ve got a few days before we need to go back home,” Din suggests. “How about we have a little fun with our kitten?”

You wriggle in Paz’s arms. The thought of Paz and Din having their way with you sends a thrill shooting straight through your belly. You watch as Din spreads his cloak on the ground in front of you. Then Paz pushes you down. You land hard on your knees with a grunt. You try to get back up, but Paz keeps you down, wrestling you onto the fabric. He growls with pleasure. No matter how hard you fight, you simply cannot break out of Paz’s grip. His hands are snug around your wrists, but gentle, never painful, as he turns to look at Din.

“Let’s cuff her,” Paz says casually.

Equal measures of arousal and dread fill your belly as Din brings his restraints out. Swiftly, he restrains your wrists behind your back, not giving you the chance to break free. With your hands cuffed behind your back and Din’s hand between your shoulder blades, you can’t move much, so you settle for cursing both men out while Paz kneels behind you.

Then you hear a click and the distinctive hum of a vibroblade activating. You try to twist to see what Paz is doing, but Din keeps you from moving. You feel fabric give way as Paz very carefully slices through the crotch of your pants. Then he wriggles his fingers into the slice in the fabric and yanks it wide open, leaving you feeling cold and exposed.

“You’re already soaking wet,” Paz murmurs.

You hear a faint thump as his gloves land on the cloak next to your head. Two rough, calloused hands settle on your ass cheeks. Then thumbs spread your lower folds wide apart, baring your most private parts for him. Paz lets out a noise of delight.

“Look good?” Din asks.

“Oh, gods, yes,” Paz rumbles out. “So fucking good. Don’t let her move her head.”

You wonder what he’s going to do until you hear him speak again, that feeling of anticipation making your stomach feel weirdly tight.

“Let’s see how good you taste,” Paz says, his rich baritone no longer filtered by his modulator.

You squirm as you feel his breath fan across your vulva, his fingers digging into your plump ass so hard you know there will be bruises there. Paz swipes his tongue across your vulva, making stars dance behind your closed eyelids. A desperate warble escapes you as he draws back.

“You were struggling so much earlier,” Paz croons. “Where’s that fight, kitten?”

You bare your teeth in response and shift your weight, kicking back at him. Paz laughs as you miss him.

“There we go,” he rumbles, leaning in again.

He licks along your slit once more, tracing around your entrance, teasingly dipping the tip of his tongue into you. You buck your hips against his mouth, but Din is quick to pin you back down.

“Fuck you,” you hiss at Paz.

He only hums in response.

“I want a taste of her when you’re done,” Din says over your head.

Paz sucks your clit into his mouth and releases it with a pop that makes you squeal.

“She said she didn’t want this,” Paz comments idly. “But listen to her squealing.”

“I bet she’s already dripping down her thighs,” Din sighs.

Paz ducks his head down. His tongue traces a path from your inner thigh up to your entrance. He chuckles as you try to avoid his tongue. Without warning, Paz thrusts two fingers into your cunt, wrenching a cry of surprise from you.

“Ohh, fuck,” Paz groans out. “This pussy is tight. She’s gonna break my fingers.”

Roughly, he begins pumping his fingers in and out, filling the air with wet, sloppy noises. Then he plunges a third finger into you, making you shriek. Your walls protest the rough treatment, and you moan as each thrust of his calloused digits inside of you sends you spiraling closer and closer to the edge.

“Aww, I can feel your pussy getting all tight,” Paz croons. “Thought you didn’t want us to fuck you, kitten?”

“F-fuck you,” you gasp out, grimacing. “Should fu-fucking kill you – “

Paz pulls his fingers out and wipes your slick onto your thigh, chortling quietly. He gives you a few more long, slow licks, laughing each time you moan.

“Is it my turn?” Din asks.

“Of course,” Paz says. “Drink up, she’s dripping.”

As the two men shuffle around on the cloak, they keep you firmly trapped, not giving you an opportunity to escape. You huff quietly to yourself and resign yourself to the pleasurable torture.

“Look at how pretty,” Din says with a leer you can hear.

You feel him put his helmet down next to your knee. His voice is like caramel to your ears. Unfortunately, you don’t get a chance to enjoy it as he leans in and begins lapping at your slit, little groans of pleasure escaping him. Then he thrusts his tongue through your lips. Your breath catches in your throat, soft moans escaping you. Din gives you a few more moments on his tongue before withdrawing. Like Paz, he pushes his fingers into you, twisting and scissoring them inside you, as if mapping out your inner walls.

“Fuck,” Din says, and you can hear the grin on his lips. “You weren’t kidding.”

“Imagine how good she’s going to feel around your cock,” Paz suggests.

“Good idea,” Din says.

Din shuffles on the cloak behind you. You hear the whisper of fabric against flesh as he pushes his pants down. One hand wraps around your waist as he pushes forward, pressing the blunt head of his cock against your entrance. Then he starts pushing in slowly, firmly, filling you without giving you a chance to adjust. You sob as he finds the end of you, his cock brushing up against something vaguely uncomfortable.

“Oh, fuck,” he stutters out around a harsh pant. “Fuck!”

“Feel good?” Paz asks.

“So. Kriffing. Tight,” Din hisses, punctuating each word with a roll of his hips. “Kitten, how the fuck are you so tight?”

Tears spring to your eyes at how full you are, your walls struggling to take him. Din sets a slow, torturous pace, one that ensures you can feel every single inch of him as he fills you to the brim. Paz trails his hands up from your shoulders to your waist, stroking along your back through your suit. As that familiar heat begins to fill your belly, you realize you might have made a mistake in running your mouth. A very pleasurable mistake, but there is a strong chance you won’t be walking normally for a few days.

“I can feel you squeezing around me,” Din sings down to you. “Are you close, kitten?”

“I thought you didn’t want any of this,” Paz mocks you. “I thought you wanted us to let you go, kitten? I thought you hated the idea of us taking turns fucking you?”

You squirm again as Din’s pace grows rougher. Shit, he’s good. Too good. You’re already about to come and he has barely even gotten started.

“I’m gonna fill this pretty pussy right up,” Din grunts.

A whine escapes you before you can stop it. Paz reaches up and squeezes your hip. Immediately, you know what he’s feeling for. The contraceptive implant. He palpates for a few moments on both sides. A gush of wetness escapes you, pure pleasure filling you at the thought of your warriors breeding you.

“Where’s your contraceptive chip, kitten?” Paz asks. “Or did you not get one, hmm?”

Din increases his pace and force, hips slapping obscenely against your ass. His hand snakes around to your front. Strong fingers begin massaging your clit, little starbursts of pleasure exploding between your thighs. You hit your peak a few moments later, crying out as your walls quiver around his cock. Din’s grunts grow louder, his hands tightening around your hips. He smacks your ass lightly.

“Th-thought you didn’t want us to come in you?” he prompts.

Oh, right. You start struggling against him when you’ve regained your bearings.

“No, don’t you dare!” you hiss at him, “Pull out, pull out now!”

Din goes stiff, pace stuttering as his cock throbs inside of you, soft groans escaping him. Your eyes drift shut as he pants harshly.

“Company,” Paz warns.

Din puts his helmet on and pulls his pants up. You collapse flat onto your front and roll down onto your side, chest heaving as Din’s spend starts to leak out. Paz does not seem to care about the caravan passing by in the distance. Instead, he reaches over to remove your restraints. The instant you are free, you swing at him, but he anticipates it, catching your wrists and pinning them above your head.

With his other hand, he tugs your chest plate off and tosses it aside. Then he yanks your top open, sending buttons flying every which way. Then Paz pulls out his vibroblade.

“Don’t you fucking dare!” you hiss up at him. “This bra was expensive!”

He tilts his helmet down at you. Fortunately, he listens, and puts the damn blade away. Instead, he pushes your bra up over your tits, making you sigh in relief. Then Paz starts to push in. You howl, writhing in his iron-clad grip. Fuck, he’s huge, almost too big.

You pant harshly, digging your heels into his backside as he rocks forward experimentally. Din keeps watch over the caravan in the distance, polishing his weapon in a clear warning for them to stay the fuck away.

“Fight me, kitten,” Paz urges, “Show me those little claws of yours.”

Weakly, you buck your hips, but that only drives him in deeper, so deep it knocks the breath out of your lungs.

“Does my cock feel so good you can’t think?” Paz asks, faintly mockingly, as he rolls his hips once more. “Like that, my pretty little slut?”

Fuck, you think, as you clamp down around his length. Paz laughs at your reaction as he begins a deep pace, his cock hitting every single spot inside you that screams for friction.

“Fucking hell,” Paz breathes. “Din, how did you not come immediately? She’s squeezing so tight she’s about to push me back out.”

“I thought about your face,” Din lobs back easily, earning a bark of laughter from Paz. “He’s getting closer to us. Think he’s watching.”

“Watching?” you ask sharply, squirming again as alarm fills you. “Paz – “

“What, you don’t like the idea of being watched?” Paz asks, tilting his head down at you.

“Fuck off,” you hiss in response, mortification filling you at his words.

“You’re our woman,” Paz says, trailing a finger down to your breast. He pinches your nipple sharply, making you squeak. “And do you know what we do with fine Mandalorian women like you?”

Oh fuck, you think to yourself, as your cunt gushes in response.

“We breed our women,” Paz continues. “And this aruetii gets to see you do what you were meant to do. Take my cock.”

As you buck your hips and try to dislodge him, Paz keeps you pinned down, a growl of laughter escaping him. He keeps you pinned, his thrusts growing rougher and deeper, invading your body in the most pleasurable of ways.

“Yes,” he hisses, “Fight all you want, kitten, but I’m not going to stop. Not until I’ve filled you up, not until I have bred you.”

As you tilt your head, you can see the caravan is dangerously close by, having slowed down to shamelessly watch the three of you. Din is sitting in front of you, shielding most of your body from his prying eyes, but there is no doubting what is currently happening. Paz tweaks your nipple again.

“Look, he’s watching,” Paz croons.

You clamp down around Paz, looking away from the man in the distance. Paz laughs darkly, tilting your helmet back with one gentle hand, forcing you to look back at the trader. Mortification fills you as you see the unadulterated lust in his eyes.

“If you look closely, I think you’ll see just how appreciative he is,” Paz purrs, and your eyes drop down to confirm the massive bulge in the front of his trousers. “Don’t you like the idea of an aruetii watching you get bred?”

You’re shaking now, your body twisting and writhing as you simultaneously try to fight him off and fuck him back. Paz is a heavy, immovable weight between your thighs and on your body, keeping you spread wide open and helpless to do anything but lay there under him and pray for mercy you know will never come. The trader doesn’t even bother trying to hide the fact that he’s watching. You should be mortified, you think to yourself, but you aren’t. Instead, you’re so aroused you can’t even think straight, your head spinning from the dizzying combination of pleasure and shame of being reduced to this. Silently, you urge the trader to take a seat, to watch as your two warriors take turns ravaging your body.

“Come on, my sweet,” Paz urges.

With a shaking breath, you swallow, and redouble your efforts, bucking your hips in a vain attempt to dislodge him. Paz rides you through your struggles, soothing you with soft, mocking shushing noises. You begin to mouth off at him, trying to hide the fact that you are close to coming, your slick puddling under you on Din’s cloak.

“I swear if I get pregnant, I’m going to fucking kill you!” you howl up at him. “Pull out! PULL OUT!”

Paz laughs. You let out a shriek of rage as you writhe in his grasp. Inexplicably, he lets you go. You hammer your fists against his chest plate, but all you manage to do is make your hands hurt.

“Please – please – I’m begging you, pull out – pull out!” you sob up at him.

Paz groans, his pace growing deeper and rougher. You push against his chest plate with all your strength, but he doesn’t even twitch as his body folds over yours. Paz buries his helmet into the crook of your shoulder.

“Oh, kitten,” he moans into your shoulder. “I’m gonna make such a mess in you.”

The thought of Paz flooding your insides breaks you. You let out a high pitched noise as you orgasm, deep shuddering waves of pleasure coursing through you. Paz grunts and lets out a shuddering sigh, his cock throbbing inside you as he fills you with liquid heat.

“Yes, my sweet little slut,” Paz urges. “Milk every last drop out of me.”

Once your orgasm has subsided, you let your legs fall apart onto the cloak, body relaxing under Paz’s comforting warmth. Paz cradles you in his arms, murmuring soft nothings. Warmth fills you at his tender care. You can’t help but to giggle as he nuzzles his helmet against yours, much like a loth-cat would to show their affection.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. “You did so, so good. Real proud of you, kitten.”

The trader stands up. He opens his mouth to speak, but Din cuts him off.

“Fuck off, or I shoot,” Din says flatly.

Wisely, the trader holds both hands up and immediately retreats. Once he is gone, Paz pulls out, and a little whimper escapes you. Paz gives you one last kov’nyn and tucks himself away. As you sit up, Paz gathers your armor, while Din offers his hand to you. You stand. Immediately, their very generous contributions begin to make their way back out, and you make a face under your helmet. Din smacks your ass sharply.

“Get back to the ship,” he says. “I’m hard and I want to – “

Grinning, you bolt away from the ship. Din lets out a curse. You hear him drop the things in his arms as he comes after you. You give escaping your best shot, but you are laughing so hard you can’t breathe. You’re half naked, tits and ass flapping in the wind, trying to escape your lovers. The absurdity is nearly too much for you to handle. Din catches up to you easily. Then he scoops his arms around you and flings you over his shoulder, earning a sharp squeal from you. He pats one hand on a sticky ass cheek.

“Bad girl,” he chides, though you can hear amusement in his voice.

You offer no resistance as Din carries you back to the ship. Once inside, Din sets you down while Paz closes the ramp behind himself. Din wraps an arm around you and pulls you close, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Can I take the rest of this off?” he asks, hands lingering on your hips.

“Yes,” you confirm.

Din carefully begins to remove your gear, stacking it all on the table next to you. He drops to his knees to unlace your boots and you step out of them, nudging them under the table. Your ruined pants follow. Then he helps you remove the rest of your clothes, leaving you standing there in your helmet and nothing else. He hesitates.

“May I take your helmet off?” he asks.

Shyly, you reach for his hands and lift them to your helmet. Together, you lift your helmet off. Your eyes sting a bit at the bright lighting from the interior of the ship. Din lets out an appreciative noise as he lifts his hand to stroke your cheek. Pressing a kiss to his thumb, you hook your fingers into his belt and pull him closer, until your tits press up against the cool beskar plate on his chest.

Din brings out his restraints and a grin crosses your face, your pussy clenching in excitement. He encloses your wrists in the rings before testing them. Not too tight, not too loose.

“Ready?” Din asks.

“Ready,” you nod, “Safe word is behot.”

With your confirmation, Din moves swiftly, almost too quickly for you to track. He marches you into the bedroom and tosses you down onto the bed, where you bounce and squeak. Paz follows, already shedding his armor and clothes into the chair. Once Din is naked – save for his helmet – he crawls onto the bed with you, the mattress creaking under his weight. You kick out at him but miss, growling in frustration.

“She’s a feisty little thing, isn’t she?” Din asks Paz. The other man comes to join you, settling on your other side.

As Paz runs his finger along your breast, you bite at him. He laughs and then he thumps his finger against the end of your nose.

“This might be a problem, Paz,” Din says conversationally.

“What is it?” Paz asks.

“It looks like she’s pushed all our cum out of her,” Din says, swiping his fingers through the tacky mess on your thighs.

“We spent all day making those loads for your pussy,” Paz scolds you, tweaking your nipple.

“I never wanted them in the first place,” you growl up at them.

“Sweet kitten,” Din soothes, parting your knees and settling between them. “If you didn’t want to be bred, you shouldn’t have run your mouth.”

“Shouldn’t have called us old and incompetent,” Paz says.

“Called us unworthy of fucking this sweet pussy,” Din adds.

You can’t help the needy moan that escapes you while he strokes his cock to full stiffness. Lifting your hips, you writhe, pulling against Paz’s grip as he holds your wrists above your head.

“You say you don’t want to be pregnant,” Din chuckles lowly. Then he starts pushing in, sliding in with a satisfying thrust. Then he growls, his head falling back as he pauses, letting you feel the throb of his cock in you. “Look at the way you’re whining and writhing on my cock. You want this.”

“We’ll have to keep her chained to this bed until she’s pregnant,” Paz says.

You can’t help but to tighten around Din. He laughs, giving you a short thrust.

“I think she likes the idea of being chained to this bed and used,” Din looks over at Paz.

“Is she like a vice?” Paz asks, feigning surprise.

With one hand, he holds your arms down. With the other, he begins fondling your tits, tweaking your nipple and twisting. Then he smacks lightly, making you squeak and writhe. Din begins to thrust shallowly, his helmet tilting down toward your tits.

“I think she’s trying to keep me from pulling out,” Din says.

“I knew it,” Paz purrs, tracing a gentle finger along your jaw. “You’re a slut for a big, thick cock in you, aren’t you?”

“No!” you blurt out, twisting under Din. “Get it out! NO!”

Paz releases you to get up. Din catches your wrists and presses your palms to his chest as Paz goes to the wall.

“Dig your nails into me,” Din orders firmly.

“Like this?” you pant up at him, as Paz turns the lights off. “Or – or is it t-too much?”

“Make it hurt,” Din barks at you.

You obey, tightening your fingers until your nails dig in. He lets out a growl of pleasure, his hips snapping into yours sharply. Each thrust fills you to the brim and a little more, earning a squeak as he finds the line between pleasure and pain. The light turns off and you hear a thud as Din puts his helmet on the bedside table. Then another as Paz puts his down. The mattress shifts and Paz takes over holding you down.

“Baby, can I please spit in your mouth?” Din whispers, nuzzling along your jaw. You smile and press a kiss against his temple.

“Of course,” you respond.

He groans. Din’s hand finds your jaw and he presses against your cheeks to pry your jaws apart. Then he hooks his thumb over your lower teeth and pulls, holding your mouth open. You let out an inelegant noise as he traces your teeth with his tongue. Then he slides it in further, mapping the roof of your mouth and then your teeth. Din pulls back just a bit and he spits. Of course, he misses your mouth in the dark, so most of it ends up on your cheeks. Din releases you and you swallow, sighing as he starts hitting that spot that makes you see stars.

“Did you like that?” he asks gently, pressing his lips to your temple.

“Yes,” you whisper, “Can you…uhm…”

“What is it, baby?” Paz asks, stroking your arms.

“Be rougher, please?” you ask shyly.

“Anything you want,” Din says. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” you confirm. “I’m ready.”

Din starts rolling his hips harder against yours and Paz’s grip grows tighter, verging on painful. Your eyes roll back up in your head as Din bites the meat of your shoulder and sucks hard. Din palms one breast for a moment, rolling and squeezing before pinching your nipple.

“These titties bounce so beautifully,” Din says. “You like this, kitten? Feeling my cock this far in you?”

“No,” you gasp, arching your back to welcome him in deeper. “No, don’t – don’t want to – “

Paz tweaks both your nipples sharply. You cry out at the little starbursts of pain radiating from your breasts. Then he smacks firmly, making your entire body twitch.

“If you didn’t want us breeding you, you would have kept that smart mouth of yours shut,” Paz says, squeezing again. “So glad you decided to run your mouth, kitten. Never would have known how fucking good you feel.”

“You told us you were ovulating,” Din pants. “Did you think we would turn the invitation down?”

Warmth fills your belly as your pussy begins to throb around his cock. Din groans.

“If you didn’t want to be bred, you wouldn’t be moaning for cock like the little whore you are,” Paz interjects, his hand sliding toward your belly.

You choke out a sob, bucking your hips against Din’s half-heartedly, breaths coming in sharp, gasping pants.

“Come on my cock, my sweet little slut,” Din orders, and you fall apart.

“No, no, no,” you sob out while you come, “Ple-please pull out, don’t do this, Din – “

He groans and lunges forward, heaving gasps escaping him as he finishes, filling you with that liquid warmth you crave. Tightening your legs around his waist, you keep him trapped snugly in you. He thrusts shallowly for a few moments.

“There you go, kitten,” he rasps into your shoulder. “Another load for your fertile pussy.”

“My turn,” Paz says cheerfully.

Din releases you, pressing another kiss to your forehead, and pulls out with a wet noise. You collapse onto the bed, legs spread wantonly, as you try to catch your breath. Paz settles between your knees. He thrusts in sharply, wrenching a cry of surprise from you as he fills you. He begins to move, each thrust rocking your body on the covers.

“Fuck,” Paz grunts.

Arching your back, you whine, tightening your legs around Paz’s waist.

“Please,” you whine, “Harder, Paz.”

A desperate noise escapes you as he goes still.

“What was that, kitten?” he asks.

“Harder, please,” you mewl impatiently.

“Did we change your mind?” Din croons, tracing your jaw with his fingers. “Do you want to be filled up with cum, little slut?”

Another impatient noise escapes you as you lift your hips, urging Paz to continue what he was doing before. He doesn’t move, much to your chagrin. Your lower lip slides out in a pout.

“Tell me exactly what you want from me, kitten,” Paz says.

“I want you to fuck me please. Finish in me, I want every last drop,” you moan into his ear, sighing when he starts moving again. “Wanna be bred.”

“Good girl,” Paz rumbles in response.

“Wanna do what I was made to do,” you sigh, digging your nails into his back. “Get knocked up.”

He keeps a slow and unhurried pace, your mewls and pleas falling on deaf ears. He works you slowly to the edge, drawing out each thrust and kiss until you feel like your entire body quivering in desperation. He changes his pace then, grinding his pubic bone into your clit, giving you the friction and pressure that you so desperately need. Biting on your lower lip, you lift your hips, digging your nails into his back as you start to come. Paz bites you again and orgasm hits you like a freighter. You sob his name out, toes curling, as the pleasure wracks your body.

Paz rests inside you as you come down from your high, feeling fuzzy and warm, as if you’re about to fall asleep. He pulls out. A generous amount of his spend follows. He presses his lips to your forehead as you start to drowse off.

“Rest,” he murmurs. “You will need your strength, kitten.”

As you drift off, Paz tucks a blanket around you. Vaguely, you hear Din and Paz arguing over who sleeps where, but you tune them out, sinking into the warm abyss of sleep.

-

-

-

You aren’t quite sure how many times the two of them fuck you throughout the next few days. Originally, you had tagged along to hunt with them, but the two men clearly had other plans in mind. That first night, they keep you in bed, letting you out only for a trip to the bathroom and for food. The cuffs are loose enough for you to slip out in case of emergency, but you don’t take advantage of that fact. Honestly, the thought of being entirely at their mercy gets you soaked in seconds. Din also refuses to let you wear clothes. Any attempt to cover up is met with a growl and a very swift undressing.

Cover your tits with your hands? Din reaches for the handcuffs. He even threatens to hide the blankets and pillows until you agree to remain completely naked for his viewing pleasure. “If you’re cold,” Din says, “You come to me, and I’ll keep you warm.” Paz only shakes his head.

During the days, they alternate who hunts and who stays behind with you. When it’s Din’s turn to stay behind, he likes keeping you cuffed. Sometimes, when you’re very naughty, he’ll cuff you to the pilot’s seat and keep you between his knees. Then, he’ll slide his flaccid cock in your mouth and keep it there until you can get it hard again. Sometimes, when you get a little too fresh with him, he will finish on your face. He likes mocking you when you sulk about him wasting a load like that. Then, while you’re protesting, Din will slide his cock right back into your mouth to shut you up. When you’ve behaved to his liking, Din will finish in your pussy and tell you what a good girl you’ve been.

Paz, on the other hand, can’t stay out of your pussy. When it’s his turn to stay with you, he just plops you into his lap and buries his cock inside you. Paz is a very patient man. Sometimes, he makes you sit perfectly still on his cock. He won’t touch you until you break apart and beg him for his touch. Then, and only then, will he let you finish. Other times, he flat out uses you, not caring if you get off in the process. Then he makes you sit there in complete silence, feeling as his cock goes all soft inside you. If you make the mistake of letting his cock slip out, Paz will sigh in disappointment and make you lick up the mess that escapes your poor abused pussy.

On the fourth day of your scheduled breeding, Din comes back with something he promises you will “love”. He heads into the galley for a few minutes. You can hear the sounds of running water and him washing something. After his shower, he joins the two of you in the bed. Paz pulls out and Din replaces him. You whine impatiently – Paz hasn’t let you finish all day long. He’s kept you on the edge the entire time. Not thirty seconds later, Din also finishes, and you sulk as he pulls out.

Then something soft and squishy presses right up against your abused entrance. Your pussy resists for a few moments – whatever it is, it’s big­ – but it eventually pops in. You squirm as it slides in, pressing up against your g-spot.

“What the hell?” you ask Din.

“It’s an egg,” Din says proudly. “This way, we’ll be able to keep our cum inside you while you’re doing your chores, kitten.”

“I like that idea,” Paz says. “Speaking of chores, I’m hungry.”

“Me too,” Din says.

“Go get dinner on the table, woman,” Paz says, smacking your ass cheek as you roll off the bed.

The instant they found out you like being told what to do, they started taking shameless advantage of it. When they’re not fucking you, Paz and Din often have you cleaning armor or doing the cleaning around the ship. Paz especially loves watching you in the galley as you cook the meals. This is the only exception to Din’s demand that you stay naked. He lets you wear an apron to do the cooking so you don’t accidentally burn yourself. As soon as you’re finished in the galley, Din takes the apron from you and locks it up.

It took a little bit before you got used to the egg inside you, but now, it feels quite nice pressing up against your g-spot. Not only that, it keeps their spend from leaking out and making a horrible mess on your thighs. Din and Paz like seeing evidence of you being bred, but the thought of having it plugged up inside you is far more appealing to them. You can’t help but to find their eagerness to knock you up weirdly endearing.

“We should keep her like this forever,” Din says one evening while he fucks into your limp body, forcing a mortified moan out of you. “Naked and fucked into submission.”

“I like it much better when she’s cooking and cleaning,” Paz leers, stroking his cock as he waits for Din to finish, “Imagine how good she’ll look with a big belly on her. Cooking, cleaning, and looking after the little ones.”

Din swears as he finishes, coating your walls with another thick layer of spend. He pulls out and you squirm a bit. Your walls are hypersensitive now, almost tender from the sheer number of times the two warriors have fucked into your body. Paz laughs as he pushes in, plugging Din’s cum inside you.

“How many brats are we going to breed out of her?” Din asks, turning your head to the side.

He traces your lips with the head of his cock, smearing his spend and your slick onto your face. Obediently, you open your mouth and lick at the head of his cock. Din sighs as he slides in with short, gentle thrusts. Once they found out that you could swallow their cocks up to the hilt, neither one had been shy about using your mouth to get hard.

“Six,” Paz says, “Six sounds good.”

“Do you like the sound of that, kitten?” Din asks, tilting his helmet down at you. “Do you think you can breed us six children?”

You pull your mouth off Din’s cock and give him a look of pure disbelief.

“Competent warriors could provide for more than six,” you say hoarsely. “Only a useless, ancient fucker like you would stop at six.”

Paz starts to laugh hysterically at the incredulity in Din’s posture. Din sighs and picks up the big, squishy silicone egg he bought. Then he pops it into your pussy and smacks your ass.

“My armor needs to be cleaned,” he says. “Get to work, woman.”

“Yes, sir,” you sigh, as you bring your knees together and slide off the table.

-

-

-

They drop you off back home with the rest of the supplies. From there, Din and Paz go on to pursue the more dangerous bounties that they don’t quite trust you with. It doesn’t really offend you – you really aren’t that great of a hunter. They can handle themselves alone. They make a formidable team when partnered up together. When you go in for your medical examination, Doctor Shen just sort of stares at the results of the scan.

“Is this why you came to ask for the pregnancy cocktail?”

“I told them I was ready to have a baby,” you say shyly. “I’m so happy they were willing to help.”

Her hand on her hip is the equivalent of a raised brow.

“You’re covered in bruises and bite marks,” she says. “Did you get any hunting done at all?”

“I hunted for the first few days,” you say defensively. “Then I did a personal scan and found I was going to be ovulating soon.”

She sighs and shakes her head.

“It’ll be a little bit before we can determine if you succeeded,” she says. “So, take it easy for now.”

-

-

-

Twelve weeks later, Doctor Shen confirms that yes, Paz and Din were quite successful in knocking you up. When they get back, you deliver the good news. You expect them to be overjoyed – which they are – but you do not expect them to start arguing on the spot over who gets to raise the child. It gets to the point where they look like they’re ready to start brawling, so you swiftly cut in.

“You idiots had no problem taking turns fucking me,” you say, ignoring all the witnesses in the room. “You won’t have a problem taking turns raising this baby with me.”

Paz and Din grumble about having to ‘put up with’ the other, but eventually concede. You won’t admit it, but it feels nice being fought over by the two more competent warriors in the Tribe. You know you’re the recipient of many jealous looks from the others, but you have no desire to share them with anyone else. As your belly grows larger, Paz finally lets you move into his room, which is much larger than the bunk you share with your friend. (Din also moves in, so he can ‘make sure’ that Paz is looking after you.)

Then they start arguing about whose name the baby is going to get, which clan it is going to be raised in, and which warrior you were going to marry. (Armorer ends up cutting into the argument and telling you to just marry them both because she’s sick of hearing their voices and could you please tell them to shut up?)

Paz wins getting the two of you to join up as part of his clan. Regardless of clan politics, the Vizsla emblem does get certain benefits. You win the last name debacle by saying the baby gets your last name. Finally, Din gets to name the baby. (Though you remind him that any stupd names like Ori’buyce will immediately be vetoed.)

When you’re starting to get round, Din and Paz spend a lot of their time simply touching you, marveling at the changes in your body. You have to sleep between them most nights because they’re always underfoot, wanting to feel the baby move. Now, being pregnant isn’t a deterrent for either one.

In fact, the bigger your belly gets, the more they want to pleasure you. It doesn’t ever get rough – Paz and Din don’t want to risk hurting you or the baby – but it takes very little to convince them to please you. This late in your pregnancy, it’s hard to manage sex comfortably. So, they have to be creative.

Paz will make a nest of pillows on the armchair outside and layers a few towels onto the cushion. Then he carefully nestles you onto it, lifting your legs onto the arm rests until you’re spread wide open for them. (This is approximately the same time that Din loses control over his mouth.)

Din loves to tell you how good you look with a big, round belly. He comments on how your breasts have changed, how they feel heavy and ripe and full in his palms. Paz likes to tell you that you look like some sort of fertile goddess, ready to bring life into the world. He likes kissing every stretch mark and worshiping your pussy. When you’re appropriately dazed and incapable of forming a coherent sentence, they’ll let you rest. (The bigger the wet spot you leave behind on the pile of towels, the prouder they are of themselves.)

When you’re only a week from giving birth, the two of them start nesting hard. You have to wade through boxes of baby supplies to get into the little room you’ve turned into the nursery. The two idiots feed off of the other’s anxiety to the point where you have to pry baby supplies out of their hands and order them to rest. (You only have to threaten to get Doctor Shen three times before they calm down and stop panicking.)

The delivery goes smoothly. Din and Paz stay by your side the entire time, holding your hand and sponging the sweat off your forehead. They both cry more than the baby does as you hold him close to your chest. You know who fathered him, but neither Din nor Paz care. From there, they take you straight home. The two of them make a marvelous team, especially when it comes to Wife and Baby Care Duties.

Baby needs to be fed? Din’s already up to grab the baby, while Paz is finding some burp cloths for you. Diaper needs to be changed at night? You don’t know about it until you check the baby diaper log. (You are definitely getting the better end of the deal here, but you won’t complain about not having to change the diapers at night.)

By the time you’re on baby five (or six, was it? You’re not sure how many kids you have at this point), Paz and Din have already started staying at home longer and longer to bask in their well-earned ‘retirement’. They haven’t stopped hunting of course. Paz or Din just takes a young hunter or two with him to give them one-on-one tutelage.

“It’s a real privilege to be in this position,” Paz explains, as he shaves the remaining stubble off his face. “Back on Nevarro, we didn’t have this privilege. We had to go out on our own. We never had backup.”

“Kids are going to be soft,” Din mutters, though you can see the proud smile on his face. “We’ll have to toughen them up.”

“They’re lucky to have the two of you,” you respond quietly, to avoid waking up the newest member of the family. “Passing on your knowledge and skill…we’ll be all the stronger for it.”

“Exactly,” Din says, plastering a kiss onto your forehead.

“Can’t wait to take the ad’ika out,” Paz says dreamily. “Hopefully, we’ll be able to arrange childcare so you can come along.”

“I’m not missing any of their first hunts,” you say flatly. “The Tribe will just need to suck it up and babysit.”

The two of them only laugh at your indignant response. As you look out into the living room, you smile as you see your offspring spread out on the couch, watching a ‘borrowed’ movie. They will make fine warriors, you think to yourself, especially with who their fathers are.

-

-

-

Permanent Tags:

@hdlynn @princessbatears @oloreaa @phoenixhalliwell  @reader-without-a-story @nelba @aeryntheofficial @trippedmetaldetector @jedi-mando  @razzlefrazzum @paintballkid711 @hayley-the-comet @dornish-queen

Paz/Din Tags:

@esoltis280 @backontheolebullshit

The “If I have to Suffer, So Do You” Tags:

@magsgotswags @thecautiousengineer

#tv: the mandalorian #din djarin x f!reader #paz vizsla x f!reader x din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #paz vizsla x f!reader #din djarin x you #paz vizsla x you #paz vizsla x reader #din djarin x reader x paz vizsla #din djarin x you x paz vizsla #smut #tailor writes #tailor is a thirsty bitch confirmed #a smorgasbord of nonstop fucking #in which reader gets more sausage than a denny's #if you use an ultraviolet light on the bedding it looks like a jackson pollock painting

[mattmurdocksscars]

Make It Back

I wasn’t gonna post this, honestly. Was gonna keep it to myself, possibly forever, but I decided against that. Have some angst with a happy ending on this lovely Halloween!

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of death, Mentions of hallucinations, canon-typical injuries

Summary: When you don’t return from a mission, Poe breaks down. What he doesn’t remember is that you’ll do anything you can to make it back to him.

Ringing. 

All Poe can hear is ringing. That and one sentence on repeat.

"I'm sorry, Poe, she didn't make it back."

He's in his room now but the last thing he remembers before that is being in the hangar and a member of your squadron saying that to him. How did he get here? What… what did he mean you didn't make it back? You always came back…

His door slides open with a schick and Finn steps through, regarding him as if Poe is a wounded animal and it's enough for Poe to know. This isn't a cruel joke or a dream, you're really gone. Tears well and spill over and Poe screams, Finn rushing to his side and pulling the man into his chest. Poe rages and cries and Finn holds him all the while. 

It wasn't supposed to be like this. He was supposed to ask you to marry him. He was supposed to live the rest of his life with you, maybe even have kids one day. He was supposed to get to grow old with you.

It's not fair.

----

You come to with a lurch, your body screaming out with pain. Your nostrils are filled with smoke and ash, forcing coughs from your lungs that don’t help with pain. You try desperately to remember how you got here, what was going on, but it takes a few moments for your brain to catch up and fill you in. 

You were flying a mission with your squadron when the First Order had attacked. You had given the order for your team to get out of there and they had all made the jump to lightspeed when your ship had gotten hit. Looking around, you realized you must have managed to make it to the planet that had been nearby before going down. You were just in your seat, so you had to have been ejected from your ship. Based on the smoke to your left, you would guess the rest of it would be that way. With a shaky breath, you start to take stock of your injuries.

There’s shrapnel buried in your left shoulder, you’re fairly certain a couple of your ribs are at the very least cracked, but otherwise it’s just bruises and scrapes. You got out very lucky. With shaky hands, you pull your helmet off and cut yourself free from your harness, stumbling up onto your feet and looking around. 

The planet you’re on is forested and you’ve landed next to a creek. The smoke you can see from what you assume is the wreckage of your ship doesn’t seem to be too far off in the distance so you decide to make the trek to it. If you’re lucky, the emergency supplies will still be intact and you’ll be able to call for help. Pausing long enough to gather up the parachute since it could be helpful later, you then make your way through the woods. 

It’s a long trek, the underbrush hindering your progress, and when you finally get to the clearing your wrecked ship is in, you’re stumbling from the pain. You survey your ship and immediately know there’s no way it’s getting back in the air. One of the wings is ripped clean off and the hull is battered to hell. Thankfully, the ship is only smouldering and no longer on fire, so you’re able to make your way to the cockpit. Rooting around, you manage to locate the emergency kit and with a lot of effort, you haul it out of the ship. As soon as it hits the ground, you sink down next to it and begin going through it.

The first thing you pull out is the medkit. Removing the supplies you need and setting them out in front of you, you take a steadying breath before reaching up, wrapping your fingers around the piece of metal in your shoulder, and pulling it out. You can’t stop the scream that bursts from your chest, throwing the metal away from you as soon as it is out. With shaky hands, you grab a bacta shot and bury the needle into your upper arm, pushing down on the plunger and letting the medicine work through you. Even using the shot instead of the patches, it takes several long minutes before the wound begins to close up. By the time it closes most of the way, you’re woozy from the blood loss and pain. Black creeps along the edges of your vision and it takes everything in you to stave it off. You force yourself to work through it, placing a bacta patch over what’s left of the wound and wrapping it. Once that’s taken care of, you search through the rest of the kit to find the distress beacon and activate it. All that you can do now is wait. 

You make yourself a make-shift shelter with items from the emergency kit, under the remaining vestiges of daylight. You slowly start to feel better as the bacta works its way through your system and by the time you finish setting up camp, you’re able to breathe without pain. Your shoulder is still tender, so you make a sling using a section from the parachute. Crawling into your improvised tent, you settle down to wait.

It takes 4 days before someone lands on the planet, having been alerted by your distress beacon. You’re thankful to discover it’s a crew of rebel sympathizers and they take you in readily, offering to drop you at the nearest inhabited planet. You accept and they drop you off on Corellia. It takes you another 5 days to find a safe ship to take you to the Resistance base and when you finally step foot on the tarmac on Ajan Kloss, you nearly cry in relief. Your first and only thought is to find Poe, wanting the safety of his arms after such a harrowing experience but you barely make it a few feet before you’re being hauled around and into someone’s arms. 

“Red?! You’re alive?!” It’s Rey and her shoulders shake as she sobs against you. Absolutely bewildered, you cautiously put your arms around her.

“Y-Yeah? Am I not supposed to be?” You try to joke with her but your comment just makes her cry harder and you panic. “I was joking, oh stars. I’m sorry. Please stop crying?”

“We- Your squadron said you didn’t make it. We thought…” Rey trails off, pulling away to look at you. Your heart sinks as realization hits you. Of course they thought you were dead. You didn’t return with your squadron and it had been a week and a half now since that mission. 

“Oh, Rey. I’m so sorry for doing that to you guys… There was an ambush and my ship went down. I got back as soon as I could…” You explained and she nodded, pulling you in for another hug.

“I’m just glad you’re alive.” You lean against her for a few moments before you suddenly suck in a sharp breath, yanking yourself back from her and looking at her in panic.

“Poe? Where is he? He thinks… fuck, Rey, where is he?!” Rey’s eyes widen as well and she grabs your hand, pulling you along behind her as the two of you race through the base. She leads you to his quarters but stops you before you go in. 

“Just.. he hasn’t taken it well. Finn’s in there with him. We’ve been having to stay with him in shifts… So just, be ready for that.” She warns you and you nod, feeling a lump rise in your throat at her words. She opens the door and steps in, you following behind her and you survey the scene before you. 

Finn is sitting in the chair at Poe’s desk, looking over a datapad but when he looks up and sees the two of you enter, he stands so quickly that the chair clatters over. He breathes your name, almost as if he’s afraid to say it out loud and crosses the room to crush you into a hug. You accept it but the entire time, your eyes scan over the room as you search for Poe. When you finally catch sight of him, you feel tears well up and spill over.

He’s curled up on the bed, making himself as small as possible with his back to the wall. His eyes are barely open and he’s just staring straight ahead. He’s grown a beard and his curls are disheveled and you’re guessing he hasn’t showered in sometime. But what really breaks your heart is the fact that he’s clutching on to one of your jackets. He’s got it held tight to his chest and every few moments you see his nostrils flare and you realize he’s breathing in your scent. Finn pulls away when he feels you shaking and you look between him and Rey with a heartbroken expression. Finn’s hand comes up to squeeze your shoulder and Rey takes your hand in hers again, squeezing your fingers. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, you wipe your face and slowly walk up to Poe and kneel in front of him. His eyes don’t even focus on you, he just keeps staring ahead.

“Poe? Baby, I’m here.” You whisper to him and he finally focuses in on you, but you don’t get the reaction you were expecting. Poe laughs, a bitter sound that echoes in the room.

“Oh, this is just great. Finn, buddy, she’s back! Not that you can see her, but she’s here again.” Horror slips through you as you realize he thinks you’re not real. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?! It’s bad enough that you’re- that you’re-”

A choked sob leaves him and without even thinking you move to console him. You slip a hand into his curls, cupping the back of his head and bringing his forehead to rest against yours. His eyes go wide at the gesture, his mouth falling open and tears starting to slip from his eyes.

“Poe Dameron, I did not just fight to get back to you for you to think I’m not real. I’m here, baby. I’m real.” You tell him, your free hand going to one of his. He fights you at first, but you manage to get one of his hands free and place it against your chest so he can feel your heartbeat. At this, a sob does leave him and he launches himself at you. It sends you both to the ground, Poe wrapping himself around you as you both cry. You’re sure his hands will leave bruises from how hard he’s holding onto you but you are likely going to do the same to him. You're not sure how long the two of you lay there, sobbing together, but Finn and Rey eventually sneak from the room and leave the two of you together. When Poe finally calms enough to speak, his tone is still broken.

"I thought-" He gasps, shuddering against you and burying deeper into you, "I thought- "

"Shhh, Poe. I know. I'm so sorry, baby. But I'm here. I made it back to you. I'll always make it back to you."

Later, you'll help each other clean up and will spend the night wrapped in each other's arms. But for now, you'll lay here and hold him, reassuring him that you did indeed make it back to him.

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron fic #angst #hurt #aha #don't hate me for this lol

[kaunis-sielu]

Naja: 11

You hang up. If he asks later you’ll tell him your battery died. Then whip around, hand reaching for one of your weapons, when you recognize the man standing in front of you, a smirk on his face.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Naja.” You sneer over at him, your knife stays in the back of your pants, for now.

“What the fuck are you doing here Copperhead?”

“King said you needed some help, I said you were getting sloppy so he sent me to help you.”

“I told Bossman I didn’t need the help.” You snarl, “and I’ve never been sloppy in my life.”

“Then what’s taking so long pretty Naja?” He asks tugging on a strand of your hair.

“Touch me again and I’ll remove your fucking hand.” You sneer, “What’s taking so long is that she’s got two fucking bodyguards so I can’t just wander my way in there and kill her.”

“Kill them too.”

“I don’t do innocents.”

“Then I’ll do it.” Copperhead says with a shrug and before you’ve even completely comprehended what you’re doing you’ve got a knife to his throat.

“You will not touch them. Do you hear me? No killing innocents.”

“How innocent can he be if he’s protecting a monster like her?” He says much too calmly for a man with a knife to his throat.

“It’s a job. This is a job. You do not kill them. Do I need to tell your partner too or did he hear me?” You ask thinking of Gaboon on the sidewalk mere feet from Bucky.

“Partner?”

“Gaboon. He’s on the sidewalk, gave himself away too. The bodyguard noticed.”

“Fucking idiot.” Copperhead grumbles stalking to the edge of the roof.

“That’ll be three in the last what, two years?” You ask sweetly and he growls,

“Fuck off Naja. Gaboon walk away!” You raise your binoculars to your eyes and see Gaboon in a heated argument with Bucky. You watch in amusement as Gaboon takes a swing at Bucky and Bucky calmly blocks his blows before twisting and pinning his arms behind his back. Copperhead pulls a gun from his hip and you grab his arm.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m not gonna just let your bodyguard take Gaboon.” He sneers yanking his arm from your grasp.

“You’re not shooting my bodyguard!” You say kicking Copperhead in the hip causing him to stumble.

“Oh, you do not want to do this with me pretty little Naja.”

“I told you, he does not get hurt. You leave him alone.” Copperhead takes a swing at you but you’re smaller and faster than he is and you dodge the blow. You kick him in the left hip, causing him to stumble. When he charges you again you knee him in the balls. He howls in pain and you punch him in the throat to shut him up. “This is my hit, you and Gaboon have to go.” He laughs but it sounds more like a garble.

“Kill him Gaboon.” He croaks, and you elbow him in the head knocking him out. You pull your gun from your bag and line up a shot, you watch the fight between Bucky and Gaboon with your heart in your throat.

Bucky is fast, but so is Gaboon, when a knife appears in Gaboon’s hand you prepare to take the shot. He catches Bucky with the blade in Bucky’s right arm and you decide enough is enough and pull the trigger. Gaboon hits the ground and people lose their collective shit. You duck down and out of Bucky’s sight line then quickly gather up your things, strip Copperhead of his weapons and get off the roof.

Bossman is going to be so pissed that Gaboon is dead but there’s no proof it was you. Although you doubt that’s going to keep Copperhead from coming after you. You glance back up the stairs contemplating going back and finishing the job but you don’t. You hurry to your bike and tug on the helmet, knowing Bucky he’s going to want to know who took that shot and he’s going to be able to figure out where it came from quick. Sure enough as you start your bike he comes sprinting around the corner. He has his gun in his hand, a rapidly forming bruise on his cheek and blood oozing down his arm, but god he still looks so handsome.

He makes eye contact with you, not that he knows with the dark visor covering your face, then takes a couple of steps toward you. You rev your bike twice, give him a little salute then take off into traffic. You see him in your rear view trying to get a look at your plates but that won’t turn up anything. It was probably risky, to let him get that close to you.

When you get to the safe house you text Bucky.

-I’m so sorry, my phone died. Call me when you get the chance.-

He doesn’t text you back for a couple of hours.

-Sorry that took so long sweetheart. I’ll call you as soon as I can-

-Be safe.- And you mean it, you can’t be his personal bodyguard.

A half hour later your phone rings and when you see that it’s Bucky you snatch the phone off of the stand.

“Hey,”

“Hi Sweetheart.”

“It’s late. Are you okay?” You ask sounding sleepy.

“I’m sorry I can call you back another night.”

“James don’t you dare hang up. Don’t think I didn’t notice you didn’t answer my question.”

“Sorry Sweetheart, what was that?”

“Are you okay?”

“Yea. And I think I am because of a hit woman.”

“Now you’re definitely trying to make me jealous.” You say trying to calm your racing heart. “What makes you think it was a woman?”

“I got to the area where the shot was taken from, she looked at me and gave me this little salute. She took off before I could get more details but my gut says it was her.”

“Wait, who was shot? Why was she shooting?”

“There’s this alleged group called the snakes that’s run by some guy of hit men. I’ve always assumed that they were fake but some guy came at me, that’s why I put you on mute when we were talking, that felt off. When I confronted him he started fighting with me, pulled a knife, it wasn’t until I got cut that she took the shot.”

“You said you didn’t get hurt!”

“No I said I was fine. I’m fine.”

“You were stabbed!”

“Cut Sweetheart. Just a cut.”

“Prove it.” You challenge and you hear him sigh,

“You just wanna see me without my shirt on again.”

“James-”

“I’m just kidding Sweetheart. Hold on.” It only takes a few seconds for your phone to buzz and when you glance down you see a message from Bucky. When you open it it’s a mirror selfie and he’s just got a white bandage on his bicep where he’d been cut.

“How many stitches.” You ask putting the phone back to your ear.

“7.”

“Just please be careful. I don’t want to have to find a new travel buddy.”

“I’m doing my best Baby.” You furrow your brows, he’s never called you baby before. Then you hear the soft female voice.

“James? I need you.”

“Ma’am, Peter is on your side tonight. If you need something you need to go to him.” Bucky says calmly.

“But I want you.”

“You want me to talk to her?” You ask and he laughs.

“Nah thanks though Baby. I should probably go, I just wanted to let you know I was okay. I love you.”

“Talk to you soon.”

Tag list:

@abschaffer2 @dsakita @dramadreamer14 @thesassmisstress @andahugaroundtheneck @loving-life-my-way @thefridgeismybestie @killcomet @dumblani @im-just-another-monster @mywinterwolf @scuzmunkie @biskwitmamaw @geeksareunique @paintballkid711 @lumar014 @also-fangirlinsweden @connie326 @inkedaztec @valsworldofcreativity @strangersstranger

#imagine bucky barnes #bucky imagine #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader #imagine bucky barnes x reader au #bucky Barnes x reader au #bucky Barnes #bodyguard!bucky barnes #bodyguard!bucky barnes x hitwoman!reader #bodyguard!au #bodyguard!bucky barnes x reader #Naja story

[xxelkheadxx]

Valentines with Din

In honor of Valentine’s Day, let’s get some soft and romantic Din in here

This also ended up more as a one-shot but that’s ok

6:00 am

Din has already been awake for a few hours trying to make you pancakes in bed but always forgets that you aren’t really a morning person which gives him some extra time

Grogu wanted to help which results in a mess in the small kitchen

8:00 am

Din wakes you up with a plate of chocolate and blueberry pancakes and a cup of coffee

“Good morning cyar’ika!”

You smile at him and graciously accept his gift

Din is excited that you like it, very casually forgetting to inform you that Grogu is covered in pancake batter and soaking in the sink

9:00 am

Din sits anxiously in the cockpit with you

“Are you ok Din?”

He turns and nods, even with his helmet on, you can tell he is smiling

You reach over and snatch the helmet off of his head and peck his cheek

He freezes, his face completely flushed

Din glances at the hyperdrive coordinates and quickly pulls the ship out of hyperspace

A large, lush planet appears in front of you and you instantly recognize its beauty

“Din? Is this Naboo?”

He doesn’t say anything but instead looks at you with a childish grin on his face

The ship enters the atmosphere and you stare out the window in awe

“It’s beautiful...” 

Din looks at you for a moment and nods

“Just like you, cyar’ika.”

The ship lands and he slips his helmet back on, grabbing your hand and quickly yanking you out of the cockpit

He detours and gets Grogu, now clean, and takes you both outside with him

10:30 am

After a long walk, he finally stops and notices that you are looking tired already

Din grabs you tightly, securing Grogu in his shoulder bag before you lift off of the ground

You three fly though the air, Din being extremely careful with his height as to not damage his jet pack

Soon you land outside the city, packed with beautiful flowers and couples wandering the streets hand in hand

“Is... Is this ok?” Din turns to you, his arm wrapped around your waist

“It’s amazing, riduur.” You return his gesture and wrap your arm around his waist, Grogu in the bag inbetween you two

3:00 pm

You have wandered through the city for hours now, Din stopping everywhere to shower you with gifts that even you didn’t know that you wanted

You sit and take a break at a nearby bench

Din lets Grogu climb into your lap for some rest

He turns and begins to quietly braid your hair, his hands running though your scalp to remove any knots

He finishes soon after and rests his helmet on your shoulder

You lean against him and rest your hand on his knee

4:00 pm

Din sits up and looks at your beautiful eyes

“I have one more thing for you today. I just need to bring the kid back to the ship real quick.”

“Ok Mr. Secrets, I’ll be here.”

“I shouldn’t be long, maybe 20 minutes tops.”

You assure him that you will be fine as he scoops up Grogu and takes off into the air

4:15 pm

A man sits down next to you on the bench and turns to you

“Now what is a pretty specimen like you doing all alone on Valentines day?”

You shuffle slightly before responding

“Oh, I’m not alone, my husband is just running our son back home real quick.”

“Oh, well I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. Well in that case, I’ll leave you alone now, have a good night!”

“You too!”

Just moments later, Din lands back in front of you and stares at the man as he walks away

“Who is he?”

“I don’t know. He was really nice though. He asked if I was alone and I said no, so he just apologized and wished me a good night.”

“Oh.” Din turns back to you and quickly wraps you up in his arms

The rumble of the jetpack in quickly replaced by the air flowing past you two

Din hums to himself and you rest your head against his bicep, tired, but excited for whatever Din has in store for you.

6:00 pm

Din places his hand over your eyes

“Keep your eyes closed until I say so, okay?”

“Will do.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and Din soon lands back on the ground

He guides you forward and moves his hands to your shoulders

“Open.”

You open your eyes to a beautiful and glistening body of water, the sunset shining across it

“Din...”

He guides you to the ground and turns to face you

Din slides his helmet off of his head and stares at your face

“Din! What are you doing?”

“Hey, it’s ok. I know I am safe here with you.” He smiles softly.

You lean against his shoulder and he wraps his arm around you, holding your hand with the other

He leans backward into the grass and pulls you into his chest

You curl up close to him as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear until you nearly fall asleep on his chest

“Thank you Din.”

Din grinned and kissed your head

“You deserve it cyar’ika.”

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #headcannons #the mandalorian #mando #star wars