#then din shrugs like anyways ... the argument I was trying to make is that the existence of a magical force field is implausible at best

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

At Odds

Pairing: Mando x Reader, Din Djarin x Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: You and the Mandalorian are mid-argument when you’re requested to help some old friends.

“You’re unbelievable!” You accused and marched forward now that the Razor Crest was in sight. The Mandalorian who had shared in their recent escape debacle paused his steps.

“I’m unbelievable? You blew our cover two-minutes in to that cantina with all your mindless chatter about knowing the Twins.” Mando bit back, gesturing behind him where smoke still billowed in the air.

Spinning around, you pointed at the beskar helmet. “My plans always work - you just get in the way with all the doubt. Is it really that hard to follow my lead and improvise?”

“I should have let that Wookie eat you.”

You huffed at the man. “If I had been eaten then you’d be stuck on this backwater planet completely oblivious to the fact that your shiny armour has attracted the attention of the native plants which are currently snaking up your legs.”

The Mandalorian looked down and, sure enough, there were giant green tendrils gathering at his waist. Suddenly aware of the danger, he ignited the fire blaster in his gauntlet and set the plants alight.

“Dank farrik!” He cursed jumping out of their grip until he stumbled right up to where you stood, smirking. It was a glorious sight to see him catching his breath knowing that you were correct.

Holding your head up with pride, you stepped away from the Mandalorian and continued on your merry way back to the Crest. Upon nearing, your eyes noticed a second ship parked behind. Thankfully, you recognised it to be that of the bounty hunter Boba Fett who stepped into view.

“Y/n, Mando - it’s good to see you both.” Boba Fett greeted. As he approached, his steps faltered when he noticed a fiery scent. “Why does it smell like you slept in a forest of singed trees and bathed in the ashes?”

Mando simply exhaled making it clear to you that he wasn’t going to reply.

“The bounty we were after didn’t come quietly and he set the cantina on fire when he escaped.” You summarised.

Boba Fett stared at the pair almost as if he was trying to diagnose something.

In the silence, Fennec chuckled. “I didn’t think you usually let bounties escape?”

“I don’t.” Mando confirmed.

Boba Fett nodded. “It seems that returning the Little One to his own kind has caused some dissonance between the two of you. Luckily, I have a job that might help.”

You laughed and clapped your hands together. “Perfect - by all means take him off my hands.”

Mando turned. “I work better alone anyway.” He defended.

Boba glanced at Fennec feeling just a little bit awkward having to witness their tension. Fennec shrugged and Boba cleared his throat.

“Actually, the job requires the unique skills of you both. Do you think you’ll be able to handle that?”

You smirked at the Mandalorian. “Think you can handle it?”

Mando still had you pinned under his gaze when he replied. “Shouldn’t be a problem.” He broke the eye contact and you both focused on the friendly faces. “What do you need?”

Boba nodded. “We’ll send you the coordinates from our ship.” He informed and bid a brief farewell. 

As he walked away with Fennec at his side, he let out a breath of air. “By some miracle, this job may patch their rift. I liked it better when they were mooning over one another.” Boba said, briefly glancing over his shoulder to where he had left the arguing pair.

Fennec shrugged. “If not, I’ll lock them in a room myself.”

Masterlist here

#theladyofmanyfandoms #theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction #gif is not mine #mando x reader #mando imagine #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin imagine #din djarin x reader #book of boba fett imagine #boba fett imagine

[din-miller]

ACTIONS HAVE CONSEQUENCES

Pairing: Din Djarin x gn!Reader

Word count: 1.4k

Summary: pirates come looking for Grogu but find you alone in the cabin instead

Warnings: canon-typical violence, mentions of decapitation, no angst, yeah you read that right decapitation but no angst to be found in this bad boy, it's just comical trash, crack fic really, reader is a sarcastic asshole, married couple, slightly unhinged reader, Din even more so and don't get me started on Grogu, cabin fic, mentions of Moff Gideon, mentions of med-school drop out reader,

A/N: this started off as a serious fic full of sorrow, then somehow turned into a night time comedy special. I'm proud of myself.

You don't normally let Din and Grogu head to the marketplace without you, but you woke up with a sore throat this morning and it hasn't gone away. You tried to convince your husband to let you join them. Fresh air would do you good, you had helplessly reasoned.

"Fresh air does nothing for sore throats. Rest does though mesh'la." Din argued back.

"Oh I didn't realise you were the one who dropped out of med school."

Needless to say, you didn't win that argument.

So now you're stuck in a cabin that you didn't know could be so quiet. For there only being three of you, the house is constantly loud. To be fair Grogu is now speaking in full sentences.

You've been alone before without them, but this time there's something unsettling. Like a bad omen is lurking in the daylight.

You should've contacted Din the moment the hairs on the back of your neck stood up. But you didn't and now you're standing in the living room with two men as you stare down the barrel of a blaster.

"You're going to regret this," You sighed, dramatically, "Look, I'm currently in the middle of making dinner and I have a sore throat. Can we get this over with?"

The tall one – let's call him Lance – glanced over at the short one – Manny. Yeah, that suits him – and sent him a baffled look.

"Where's The Child?" Manny growled and despite knowing you'll win this, you always do, your stomach turned at knowing they're here for your son.

With a shrug you crossed your arms non threateningly, "It's just me here. I'll let you know if I see a child though."

Lance glanced around the room, "You have a lot of kids toys for not having a kid."

"What? A person can't have a hobby?" You raised your brow, acting mildly offended.

Manny stepped forward, hand tightening around his weapon, "Enough! I know you have The Child. Give him to us and we won't kill you. Deal?"

"A deal?" You scoffed, "Why the hell would I make a deal with some lousy pirate? You're not even holding your blaster properly."

He looked down at his weapon, brows drawn tightly together, "I'm not?"

You tisked and pointed to the gun, "Allow me?"

When he gave a small nod you stepped forward, "Here, one hand grips right here... Good, now loosen this hand."

As soon as the blaster is loose enough you grabbed it out of his hand and pressed it against the lower region of his body. He froze, eyes going comically wide.

Lance, being weaponless already, raised his hands in an act of surrender. Honestly when you first felt like you were being watched you thought it would be a little more exciting than this. There's always next Monday you guess.

"You two are actually doing me a favour, bearing you don't have any allergies," You waited for them to shake their heads, "Good. Follow me into the kitchen. See, I've been trying out a recipe for my husband and I's anniversary – it's this weekend, you're not invited. Anyways, I'm not sure I have the correct level of spice to it."

"I'm sure your husband will enjoy it."

"Thank you Lance," You smiled and held a fork full of spicy food to his mouth. You watched as he took in the flavour and deemed it plenty spiced enough, "I'll get you boys a plate full."

Your eyes darted back and forth as they ate, taking in every reaction they had to each bite. It's a silent meal, rather uncomfortable for them you imagine.

Manny set down his fork, "This is our last meal isn't it?"

You blew out a breath, "Sometimes you gotta learn the hard way that your actions have consequences."

Lance politely raised his hand, "Can I have a glass of water?"

"Unfortunately, Lance, you can't. You know why? Because you're trying to murder my family, that's why." You growled, then cocked your head towards the door leading outside, "Now do I have to tie you both to the porch or can I trust you to behave and sit like good boys?"

"We'll behave," Lance said, stepping over the cabin's entry doorway, "Right Manny?"

The short man huffed, "I ain't itching for a blaster fire to the back, Lance."

They both sat on the bench and leaned back against the wall. You took a seat opposite of them, perched on top of the railing you had installed after you moved in.

"Who do you work for?" You asked, blaster twirling in your hand, safety on.

Manny rolled his eyes, "We work for ourselves."

You hummed, "Why us? Why the kid?"

"Figured it would be an easy target now that the Mandalorian is dead."

For the first time since he interrupted your day, you're taken back at his words, "Dead, you say?"

"Yeah, in the fight with Moff Gideon." Lance explained, "We heard you adopted his son."

You have to give him credit for knowing at least that part. You did adopt Grogu. Married Din the same day too.

How many people out there think Din's dead? And who's the dumbass that thought Moff Gideon could kill Din?

Your eyes narrowed in on Lance when his jaw dropped and you could see the faint shine of sweat gathered at his temple, "Am I seeing things?"

"Oftentimes yes, but that's him," Manny shrunk in on himself, eyes forward in horror, "That's the Mandalorian."

You look back behind you, your eyes locking in on your husband. He looks furious, even underneath all his armour. His blaster is already in his hand and floating beside him is Grogu. Your son has his hand held up directly in front of him, eyes squinted – a warning.

This is the proudest you've ever been.

"Ner kar'ta," Din's hands are on you, moving different parts of your clothing around searching for a wound he won't find, "Are you okay?"

Lance nodded, "A little parched – oh, you're not talking to me, right that makes more sense."

You smiled down at the man. He's absolutely hopeless, but it gives him a fun personality. Too bad he has to die.

"I'm okay, I promise," You reassured him, "How was the marketplace?"

"Dull without you there to keep us company," Din said, Grogu nodding in agreement, "How was resting?"

You glanced down at the two men, "I had some unwanted visitors interrupting my relaxation."

Din looked them over, "Why are they unharmed?"

"The only weapon I had in reach was Manny's blaster," You held up the weapon while simultaneously introducing Manny to your husband, "Felt wrong to kill a man with his own gun."

Din pulled Manny up by the back of his shirt, the short man standing on his tippy toes to avoid strangulation.

Manny patted Din's beskar chest piece of armour, "Look Mr. Mandalorian, this is all a misunderstanding-,"

"Yeah," Lance stood up and his friend shook his head, silently telling him to stop, "We thought you were dead."

Din dropped Manny. The man crumbled to the ground, Din's foot pinning him down. You watched as your husband's attention turned to Lance.

"And that gave you permission to hunt down my riduur and child?" He growled, every bit the Mandalorian these pirates fear, "Tell me why I shouldn't put your head on a pike for all your pirate friends to see."

Lance turned to you for help. You looked past him to your husband and nodded, "It would give me much pleasure to see shabuirs like them displayed as an example to why no one touches my family."

"What my riduur wants, they shall receive," Din hauled both men up, his grip tight enough to leave nasty bruises on their skin, "This should only take two hours. Longer if the tall one is stupid enough to run his mouth."

"Two hours!" Manny exclaimed, "I can cut my own head off in less than a minute. I'll even save you some effort and behead Lance too!"

"You don't understand," Din grinned under his helmet, body humming with anticipation, "The effort is my favourite part," Din nodded his head in your direction, "Eat without me, mesh'la. I'll be back in time to tuck Grogu in."

"I'll have the shower ready for you when you get home," You promised, "Oh, and make sure to take your time, alright?"

Din activated his jetpack, throwing down a quick 'i love you' before taking off. You looked down at Grogu, "Your buir and I will never let anything or anyone hurt you. We love you, kid"

#i grew attached to Lance 😭 #din djarin x reader #married couple | the mandalorian #the mandalorian #din djarin x gender neutral reader #sir grogu #grogu included fic #crack fic #din djarin fic #justice joy writes

[furiosophie]

@andthepeople​ said smart din with glasses and an old man sweater and my brain immediately barfed up a whole AU where Din is the countries leading expert on cults who always brings his kid to class, and Luke has just found out that apparently he has magical powers and also his dead (?) father used to be part of this ancient group called 'Jedi' so naturally, in an attempt to find out what the fuck is going on, he goes and sneaks into one of Din’s lectures - only problem is that a) the stuff Din teaches about the Jedi is all wrong and not at all what uncle Ben taught Luke and b) Luke is 110% sure that, even though Din doesn’t seem to believe in the force at all, the kid he has strapped to his chest is in fact just as force sensitive as Luke

part of the dinluke professor au - Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Fic

Din reference from this absolutely legendary picture.

#dinluke #also Grogu might or might not be an actual alien? like look how big his eyes are?? #Luke: uhm your kid is kinda green #Din: ... so? #also obviously din is in a cult himself he is just entirely oblivious to it #I imagine their interaction as follows: #luke tries to convince din the jedi are real #din argues against it based on his research #grogu lets an entire desk float in front of dins face #both din and luke stare for a second #then din shrugs like anyways ... the argument I was trying to make is that the existence of a magical force field is implausible at best #and luke debates yeeting him out of the window #that's all #just a lot of chaos energy #I feel like this could be an r/relationship post #How do I (M26) tell the rly hot professor (M30??) who doesn't believe in magic that his son has the same magical powers I do? #anyways #I wanted to practice lighting so now Din kinda looks like he's straight outta the X-Files my bad #star wars #the mandalorian #dinluke professor au #soph arts

[sprout-fics]

Hello my lovely mutual, congrats on 500 followers! Here’s to many more 🥂

Before you close off for the night, 🌱one of my favorite scenarios is first kiss with Din, whether it’s fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, whatever. Just getting to smooch the tin can man, and their foreheads pressing together? I’m dead. I’m in love. I’m dead again. 🥰😚

I’ve loved seeing all of the blurbs you’ve written for your celebration, you’re one of my favorite writers ❤️☺️

Thank you so much my dear! I wanted to write something a little different, so have a argument leading to a "because I love you, stupid!" confession leading to a first kiss with Reader and our dearest Din.

Well, this was going over great.

Which was to say, it wasn’t going over at all, not with you and Din arguing in front of the kid, voices rising higher and higher and rattling the metal panels of the cargo hold. You don’t know who started the tiff first, but you knew it had been a long time coming, the stress building for weeks on end and finally simmering over like a kettle left on for too long.

Din had been shrugging you off for a while now, frankly since this ‘job’ of yours had begun. He was quiet, solitary, speaking only when he needed to. It felt like living with a ghost, one you knew was there but couldn’t see on account of him constantly being shut up in the cockpit away from you. It was an odd existence, but not one that prevented you from developing an attachment to the Mandalorian and the foundling in his care. In fact, contrary to what Din probably intended, your desire to forge a relationship, to prove yourself to the pair only seemed to grow with time.

Yet that had led to you taking unnecessary risks in an attempt to make yourself useful, to show your dedication as a result of your efforts. As a result, with Din’s most recent hunt, it meant getting injured by a bounty who had managed to wrestle free of an exhausted Din trying to wrangle him into the carbonite freezer. The two of you had managed it, but not before you had earned yourself a nasty slice along your forearm that ended up requiring precious bacta in Din’s reserve.

It was only after Din berated you for your heroics that you finally snapped, leading to you now snarling at each other like two Loth-wolves caught in a standoff. With Din facing away from you, and you practically yelling at his back, you felt as if the very frame of the ship had begun to tremor with your voices.

“It was a stupid, foolish move.” Din stated again, and his voice was bordering on a growl, deep and raspy in his throat. “You could have been killed.”

“You were exhausted.” You shot back, unable to contain the shake of your words. “He could have hurt you!”

“Getting hurt is part of the job.” Din snapped “I chose that risk when I picked up the bounty puck.”

“Is getting killed part of the job too?” and thatmade Din whip his head towards you, entire body turning to follow until he was stalking across the hold towards your tensed figure.

Your immediate instinct was to back up from the extremely dangerous and very deadly warrior in front of you, but instead you held your ground, staring defiantly into Din’s visor as he tried to tower over you.

“Why do you care, anyways?” He snarled, making your hands clench and unclench at your sides. “Your only job is to take care of the kid. I can handle myself.”

That seemed to light a fuse within you, one that made fire race through your veins and spark anger across your gaze.

“Because I care about you, you dense tin head!” You exploded, channeling every ounce of hurt and frustration into your voice.

Yet the silence that followed was unexpected, even startling in its abruptness. Din seemed to lean away from you, rocking back on his heels as if trying to ground himself against the gravity of your angered confession. It took a moment of you staring up at him, jaw set, figure trembling, for you to process what you had just said.

Your face fell upon realization, features fading from fury into shock. Din merely stared at you, visor unreadable and watching your expression change.

“I-“ You started. “Din, I-“

Yet you weren’t able to finish what you just said, as suddenly Din was reaching up and tearing his helmet off by the bottom with one hand and reaching out to you with the other. You yelped as he dragged you closer but froze in utter surprise as his lips crashed into yours.

It lasted all of a moment, for suddenly you found yourself melting into the embrace and reaching up to wrap your arms around Din’s neck, to tangle your hands in his hair and drag him closer.

The beskar helmet hit the floor with a dull clang that you hardly noticed, so caught were you in the sudden, revolutionary sensation that was Din.

Din growled against you as your fingers knotted into his hair, and you didn’t even have time to see his face before he was separating from you, pressing your foreheads together as you both tried to catch your breath.

“You di’kut.” Din murmured hoarsely. “I care about you too. Every part of you. From your smile to your damned recklessness.”

“Shut up.” You managed between breaths. Thankfully, Din did just that as he pressed his mouth against yours once more.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din x gn! reader #din x reader #din djarin #500 follower celebration #this went SO over 500 words help #I don't think I've ever written this particular scene prompt before? #Hopefully I did okay :3c

[vagrantblvrd]

In the vein of those Din and Luke meet on Tatooine before they live the Star Wars?

I propose that Din is the ~sweetheart from back home story Luke tells people if they ask about that kind of thing, you know?

Nineteen year-old Luke who gets tossed into the deep end whe he joins the Rebellion, right?

Farm boy from Tatooine in a starfighter squadron filled with people like Wedge and Janson.

And all the hurry up and wait that happens, and a card game that springs up between missions. Some late night somewhere - Hoth, maybe - and it was just a little too much to toss and turn all night in the bunks, maybe tale a stroll through base. Stop by the hangar because someone’s always there - weather lie this you can bet someone’s fixing something or adapting it to make it work in these conditons, and anyway, anyway.

Hell of a lot better than being stuck with your own thoughts you know backwards and front.

So anyway, one of those kind of card games, you know? The ones where people don’t ask why you look so damn tired or comment on how jumpy you are because they’ve all been there. (It’s a war, everyone loses sleep, everyone has nightmares. Everyone’s lost someone, or worry about losing someone and anyway. They get it.)

Janson’s just finished some story about a girl he knew from somewhere, before he joined the Rebellion and the trouble they both go up to and the fond memories he has due to all that.

Swings over to Wedge who sighs and gives Janson this look because he just won’t stop about it, and Luke only half hears the story because he catches a glimpse of Han stomping by, scowl on his face the way he gets sometimes.

(Another fight with Leia, probably, that Luke’s at that stage of things where the thought doesn’t sting so much anymore, thinks he actually likes this better anyway, because he’s seen the way Han looks at her and anyway.)

Luke goes over to where Han’s stomping around the Falcon, muttering and swearing and Chewie’s who knows where, maybe that still in one of the storage levels helping people who are totally not involved with it refine the end product or some such, Luke wouldn’t know.

Takes a while for Han to notice he’s there and when he does Luke almost rolls his eyes at the whole...Drama bit he does. Trying to get Luke on his side, paint himself as the innocent in the scenario - which, if he was? He wouldn’t be trying nearly this hard to convince Luke, so.

Luke lets him vent for a bit and when Han runs out of steam, starts to look a little lost like he has no idea how the hell whatever argument he and Leia had got so out of hand he stormed off the way he did -

“You up for a game of sabacc?”

Because Han tells anyone who’ll listen just how good at it he is, no one better for parsecs around, and anyway.

Better that that be left alone with his thoughts, right?

So Luke brings Han into the game, and Wedge and Janson give Luke this look because the whole Drama between him, Han, and Leia is the best entertainment they’ve had in a long, long time, and anyway.

“You got one?” Wedge asks, looking at Luke over his cards, like an absolute bastard, because of course that catches Han’s interest.

“Got what?”

Luke is like, oh, no, but Wedge is smirking at him and Janson’s no better and then there’s Han who is worse than all of them put together.

“Sweetheart from back home,” Wedge says,and he and Han share this look - it has to be a Corellian thing - and Luke.

“...I wouldn’t say he’s my sweetheart,” Luke says, and the way his face feels he has to be blushing. “But, uh. There was someone.”

And, okay.

He’s not so clueless  he doesn’t know the reputation Mandalorians have with most people, has heard Han talking about this one in particular that pops up in his life every so often.

Mostly though, it’s kind of.

He just doesn’t want other people having this piece of his life, you know? Things are weird enough after Yavin and the Death Star and the Rebellion and Luke’s role in all that and he didn’t ask for any of that, could do without it, but he’s just the guy they ask to smile and post of pictures and...yeah.

SO.

He tells them this story about that time he was in Mos Eisley, right? He had this part-time job working in a hangar for someone named Peli when the farm wasn’t doing well.

Han looks at Luke as he mentions that, this slow realization on his face because look, okay, look.

Han’s met some nice girls - and maybe boys, who knows - like that, ones he had a good time with before moving on and Luke is steadfastly not looking at anyone at the table. (Cargo crate with an old tarp thrown over it to make it just that much more classy and all.)

Focused real intent on his cards and Han is both impressed and a little horrified because one, he never would have expected something like that from Luke - look at the kid, for crying out loud! - and two? That’s Luke. Like a kid brother and Han knows the kind of guys (and girls) who meet sweet kids like him in places like that - look at Han!

Anyway, Han keeps his mouth shut and lets Luke tell his story. Glances at Wedge and the others who all look the same mix of impressed and horrified because Luke, and almost gives himself away by laughing because yeah, the dumb kid gets to people like that, doesn’t he.

Luke, though He knows his friends, looks up and give them looks. “It wasn’t like that,” he says, because most of the time it really wasn’t like that.

He met a lot of interesting people back then, that’s all.

So anyway, back to Luke’s story about this guy he met working for Peli.

Drifter, you know? Not the chatty sort, but not rude about it. Just. Not much to say to anyone, which was fine Luke made up for it himself just fine.

Anyway.

This guy comes in with his ship all chewed up - literally, Luke finds out later when he pries a tooth jammed into one of the landing struts when the guy mentioned it didn’t fully retract - and this tired sigh.

Peli set Luke on the guy’s ship, told him that since he didn’t want droids near the damn thing he’d trust her to know what her people could do and that Luke would be just fine fixing his ship, so, you know.

That was a thing to watch.

And then Luke gets to work, has to call home to let them know he won’t be back that night because he’s got a big job in the works and the guy needs it done ASAP and there’s a couch in Peli’s office she lets him sleep on when stuff like this happens.

He’s still working when the guy gets back from...doing whatever it is he was doing, Luke knows better to ask, and Luke is like.

He knows ships, you know? Knows machines, a hell of a lot better than people sometimes, and they don’t make fun of him, don’t stick him with dumb nicknames.

So he’s working on the guy’s ship, maybe talking to it to, fond little pats when he’s done with a repair or comes across some old repair job someone did that’s coming apart. And it’s not like anyone told him not to take care of that while he’s there and all, you know?

Peli said get his ship fixed, and maybe she meant the newer stuff, but Luke is there and it’ll just take a second and really, the ship’s old, been through a lot. Fixing this one little thing with all the rest won’t hurt anyone and it’ll keep her flying a little longer, and just. No harm to it.

And then the guy is just kind of there?

Watching Luke being a weird guy, talking to his ship like it’s a person, finding small things wrong with it that haven’t set up an alarm anywhere yet, but Luke just knows. Like a splinter under your skin you don’t realize is there just yet but something’s not right, that kind of deal.

Gives Luke this look, right, but Luke shrugs and spins some nonsense about older ships like his and these common issues they share as part of the manufacturing process and might as well take care of it now before it becomes a problem, right? No extra charge, something on the house since the repairs that were asked for are so extensive.

Anyway.

Luke ends up chattering a bit when he realizes the guy doesn’t mind? Doesn’t always answer Luke but he doesn’t tell him to shut up or pull a blaster to intimidate him the way some of them do, and anyway.

Luke finishes the repairs around dawn, dead on his feet and wishes him luck before he goes off to catch some sleep on Peli’s couch before he heads home to the farm.

Doesn’t think much about the whole thing, but then a few months later the same ship ends up in Peli’s hangar. In better shape this time, just needs a once-over, make sure everything’s running fine and fuel.

And the guy, okay.

Gives Luke this little nod on his way off to do whatever, doesn’t stop to ask Peli if she’s sure Luke’s good at his job, and he gets this. Nothing warm and squishy, he barely knows the guy, but it’s a pleased feeling knowing that at the very least he trusts Luke’s work.

Luke’s done by the time the guy gets back, but it’s one of those days where he’s not keen on getting back to the farm - Uncle Owen asked him to stay behind a year to help out, just a little longer and he’s.

Upset at being left behind by the others, by being stuck on Tatooine for another year. Needs time to cool down before he says something he knows he’ll regret, and Peli’s good enough not to pry.

They end up playing sabacc, Peli cackling as she cheats her way to victory - Luke pauses his story to give the others this 0:D smile when he tells them she’s the one who taught him how to cheat at sabacc and not get caught at it, but anyway, they want to hear the rest of his story, right?

Peli gets a call from a supplier, something about a parts dleivery being delayed - Imperial interference or some such - and she leaves to go take care of it, annoyed because she was about to clean Luke out and leave him destitute when it comes to nuts and bolts, and then it’s Luke and the guy.

Who’s giving him this look right - well, Luke assumes, because helmet but he’s not telling Han and the others that bit, and anyway.

It’s still kind of early as these things go and Luke’s feeling a little more reckless than usual, and invites the guy for a hand or two if he doesn’t have anything else to do.

He’s not really expecting the guy to say yes, but he does and it’s not so bad, really? Guy must be in a good mood because he answers more of Luke’s questions or offers tidbits about himself without being asked. Doesn’t even glare at the pit droids when they creep a little closer.

Little guys love Luke, you know, but this guy obviously doesn’t like droids so they usual stay clear, but this this time their curiosity gets the better of them.

So they play a couple of hands of sabacc,and the guy knows, okay, clearly, obviously knows Luke is cheating the whole time. Hell, Luke’s not even trying all that hard to hide it, but he doesn’t say anything about it.

Gives Luke a look a few times, but they keep playing and they each win a hand.

Luke’s in a better mood by the time they decide that’s enough for the day, offers to buy the guy dinner, even.

(But becuase Din, and helmet, that’s a little awkward, y’know?)

Gets a no, because the guy has rations or whatever in his ship and Luke figures hey, okay, no problem and figures he’s good to go home now. Apologize to Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru and such because he does get it, just.

Yeah.

He doesn’t see the guy around for a few more months, and when he does -

“You need to see a doctor.”

Because the blood. So much blood?

Also a vibroknife, and it’s just.

Messy.

But the guy is like no, no doctor and Luke is like you are going to die if you don’t see one but still the no doctor thing, and Luke drags him to this place he knows. Sketchy part of Mos Eisley - sketchy-er part-  and knocks on a door.

This lady he knows, used to be a doctor way before. Used to be with the Galactic Navy, served on a Venator-class star destroyer before things changed, she says.

Anyway, she has a soft spot for Luke after he helped haggle a shopkeeper down on some supplies she was trying to buy this one time.

(Patched him up once or twice too, accident at the hangar or taking the wrong shortcut, that kind of thing. Didn’t want to worry his family, and anyway, Mos Eisley, right? Things happen.)

She’s surprised to see him this late at night - or not, because, again, Mos Eisley - and freezes when she sees who he has with him.

It occurs to Luke, when he sees the look on her face that hey, maybe there’s a reason someone like her is living in a bad part of Mos Eisley, and maybe people like this guy who’s been bleeding on Luke for the last however long might be one of them, but.

She was a doctor and that meant somthing once upon a time, and also the look on Luke’s face, the way he swears nothing will happen to her even though they both kind of know there’s no way he could keep that promise if his...friend is determined, but anyway.

Doesn’t matter all that much since the guy passed out before Luke got to her place, and he stays under the whole time they’re working on him.

Luke helps her patch the guy up, another pair of steady hands and they manage to save his life, which is great!

Luke apologizes for not thinking when he went to her place, but the blood and worry and she was the only one he could think of, and anyway.

She tells him not to worry about it, someone would have found her sooner or later anyway, and hey, really, don’t worry about it.

Still, better safe than sorry and Luke gets the guy back to the hangar before he wakes up. Gets him into the bunk on his ship and then, because he’s covered in the guy’s blood and it’s late as hell, decides to call home to let them know he’s got another long night - last minute job that came in and he’ll be back to help with the farm in teh morning.

And then!

Peli’s out of town, off-planet, business or whatever, and Luke’s the only one at the hangar and wakes up to the guy standing over him.

No blaster in his hand but Luke gets the feeling he doesn’t need one, and anyway.

“I said no doctors.”

Which, okay.

Luke recognizes he’s in a dangerous situation, but also?

It’s early as hell, and he didn’t get a lot of sleep the night before what with saving the guy’s life and Luke’s pretty sure he didn’t get all of his blood out from under his nails.

“They’re not anymore,” he says, and puts his arm over his eyes to block out the light. Figures if the guy’s going not going to kill him for saving his life he might as well get more sleep.

He hear this little huff, annoyance? Something, but he’s tired and falls asleep before he can figure it out.

(And the part Luke doesn’t tell Han and the others who are all just. Staring at Luke because what the actual hell, Skywalker, they thought you were some dumb kid living on a moisture farm, not...whatever the hell this story is turning out to be, is that he tells the guy - they didn’t take his helmet off, that no one saw his face.)

Anyway, Luke doesn’t get murdered on Peli’s office couch, but he does get more sleep. When he wakes up the guy and his ship are gone, but one of the pit droids gives Luke a little stack of credits. Enough to cover the medical supplies Luke’s not-doctor friend used on him, and figures it’s as close to a thanks as he’s likely to get.

In present day hangar on Hoth everyone is still staring at Luke who is like what, none of you guys had experiences like that growing up where some guy bled all over you and then kind of threatened to kill you for helping him? Weird.

Han makes a mental note to have a talk with Leia - when she’s talking to Han again -  about their idiot friend who is either the luckiest bastard in the galaxy or...hell if Han knows, but someone needs to keep an eye on the kid, okay?

But back to pre-Star Wars Luke and his ~sweetheart story.

He doesn’t see the guy again for a while, but this time he does the guy comes over to where Luke’s working on his speeder at the back of Peli’s hangar. It’s been acting up and he has this deal with her where she lets him use the hangar tools and equipment if he pays for any supplies he uses in the process. 

Business has been slow, Imperial activity in the area for some reason and scaring their usual customers away for the time being, and anyway.

Nothing else to work on, so tinkering with the speeder when a shadow falls over him and he looks up to see the guy watching him.

Awkward about it too, and Luke watches him totally not fidgeting before he rolls his eyes and flaps a hand to the toolbox just out of reach.

“Hand me the hydrospanner, would you?”

He’s half expecting the guy to walk off in a huff, but is pleasantly surprised when he sets the hydrospanner in Luke’s waiting hand.

Luke thanks him and goes back to work, and realizes after a bit that the guy is still standing there??? Seems less awkard now, though, and Luke slides out from under the speeper - has it up on a lift or the whatnot - and looks at the guy.

Tells him it’s nice to see him, especially when he’s not bleeding - “Wait, you aren’t bleeding, right?” HArd to tell with the armor and such - which makes the guy sigh.

Luke grins, and the guy sits on one of the crates nearby as Luke goes back to fixing the speeder. Occasionally Luke will ask for a tool and the guy will hand it to him.

Luke chats with him while he’s working, gets some answers back and it’s just.

A nice time, you know?

And then when he’s done and the speeder is back up and running, well. Luke needs to take it for a test drive, little spin, and if the guy’s not doing anything it might be nice to have some company???

Wedge and the others are like OH? GOING FOR A DRIVE WITH YOUR SWEETHEART? TELL US MORE.

But, like. Nothing happens, okay? They go for that drive, Luke shows off a little because he was a dumb - dumber - kid back then and anyway, anyway.

It’s not until they’re back in Mos Eisley and Luke drops the guy off at his ship, parked in a hangar down the way, that anything happens, you know?

The suns are going down and it’s pretty out, hardly anyone on the street with them and, almost enough to make them forget about being in Mos Eisley.

Luke’s leaning against the speeder, right, and the guy’s watching Luke watch him, and he cocks his head a certain way and Luke follows him into the hangar and nothing happens, okay, really.

Just some talking, the guy getting ready to leave in the morning and some stuff he ordered got dropped off. Luke helps him load his ship, and when they’re done it’s starting to get dark out, and Luke really should head home -

But the guy stops him, and on his arm and some of that awkwardness is back, and Luke is just.

Doesn’t know what to expect, because usually this is where a kiss might happen, but - the armor the others don’t know about because shhhh, no talk of Mandalorians when Han’s around -

Luke is just standing there, not sure what to do, and then the guy leans down, presses his forehead against Luke’s and says, “Din,”

Luke is like !!! because this is clearly something important, something big, and he doesn’t want to ruin the moment, mess things up. Is about to ask, but the guy beats him to it.

“My name,” he says, like this is something he hasn’t told many people. “Din.”

No last name, but Luke figures even this much is a big, big deal, especially since they don’t even really know one another, and anyway, it doesn’t matter, so.

They stay like that a little longer - Luke doesn’t know what they’re doing, this thing with Din, but it’s nice and he likes it - and then one of the hangar mechanics comes stumbling in, drunk as hell and Luke and Din break apart, all awkward and flustered.

Luke says he has to get home, Din says he should get some sleep since he’s leaving early the next morning, and anyway, anyway, that’s Luke’s sweetheart from home story.

Because, you know, because.

Uncle Owen got a couple of droids the day after that and Luke’s life stopped being his for a long, long time.

Han and Wedge and the others look at Luke because what even was that story? Everyone else had the schoolyard crushes and the like. Luke gets the mysterious drifter who almost died, but then Luke saved him by taking him to a former doctor who was on the run and hiding out in Mos Eisley and almost got murderized for it -

“Guys, he wasn’t going to kill me,” Luke says, which while true is nowhere near the point, Skywalker, just shut up for a second, okay?

- and then he gets the scenic drive and romantic kiss goodbye to someone he never sees again???

(They all agree not to mention the part where Luke’s family was murdered and the whatnot because yikes, but still. What was that story?)

Luke is just, “Tatooine,” which is as good an explanation as anything else he could have given them really.

AND THEN.

Fast forward a few years to this distress call through the Force fro a tiny green gremlin kid that Luke answers.

Has to go through a platoon of Dark Troopers to do it, and when he does -

He doesn’t expect Din to remember him, not really, because what’s one dumb kid on some terrible desert planet to someone like him who probably stopped on a hundred other planets with other dumb kids like Luke around, so.

Still, knowing it’s Din and seeing what he’s willing to do for Grogu - what he has done, when Grogu shares his memories of his adventures with Din and what Din tells him himself - makes it easier to invite him to come with Luke and Grogu.

(Always the plan to do so because he doesn’t want to repeat the mistakes of the old Jedi order, but it being Din is so much better.)

Go back to Yavin or wherever he’s starting his school and Din is all awkward around Luke?

At first he thinks Din does remember him, and overall awkwardness of their past and present and anyway, he’s obviously not going to say anything and doesn’t want to? So just move on and such.

Only thing is, with Din living there with Luke and Grogu, Luke gets the chance to get to know him better? And Din is obiously trying, for Grogu’s sake, probably, Luke doesn’t know.

It’s still Din, though, awkward and a little stilted and just.

Adorable, really. Sweet about it.

Nothing really happens other than the awkwardness going away after a while, Din looking a little more comfortable around Luke and such.

And then the speeder they use to get to the small town a few miles away for food and supplies and the whatnot breaks down and Luke sets about fixing it, back of the little workshop area he as set up and it takes him a while to realize Din came out to see what he was doing, and then just never left?

Sitting there on some cargo crates, Grogu dozing in his arms because it’s early yet, but when Luke glances over at them Din shrugs, Smile in his voice as he tells Luke that Grogu woke up when Din was getting ready and refused to be left behind, and now here they are.

Luke snorts, and looks around for the hyrdospanner -

- and Din puts in his hand.

And where it should be a nice, normal little gesture, Din has to go and make it all meaningful, you know?

Hands Luke the hydrospanner, but their hands brush, touch lingering and Din is looking at him.

It’s been years, but Luke still remembers how to read Din’s body language, the tilt of his head, way he holds himself. Subtle things, an anyway.

Din watches Luke work, and Grogu wakes up somewhere in there taking over Din’s job of handing Luke tools and the whatnot, but that’s fine with Din because now he gets to watch the two of them, right?

Luke explaining what he’s doing, what’s wrong with the speeder and what he’s doing to fix it and such. Grogu follows maybe half of what he says, not all that interested, but he’s thrilled at the chance to help and that’s the important part.

And then when he’s done and the speeder is back up and running, well. Luke needs to take it for a test drive, little spin, and if Din’s not doing anything it might be nice to have some company???

(Not that Luke has called him by his name or anything since they met again on Gideon’s ship, didn’t think Din remembered him or that he was welcome to use it, and anyway, Yes)

There’s only the one sun this time, and it’s jungle rather than desert, but Luke still knows a nice little road they can take. Scenic, lovely, and Din gives him another one of those looks because he remembers this, okay.

Luke grins, because this is...it’s nice, really, and then Grogu pops up, super delighted because Luke is still kind of terrifying behind the wheel of a vehicle. Incredible driver/pilot and all? But still terrifying, because of those things.

They get back to the school, Luke pulling up in front of the school. Leans against the speeder watching Din and Grogu get out, Grogu thrilled out of his little mind because they went so fast and it was amazing and they watch as Grogu goes inside still chattering to himself becuase so cool.

Din looks at Luke, who’s still leaning against the speeder, soft little smile on his face because it’s been a good day.

And then Din cocks his head in a certain way and Luke follows him inside, because what else is he supposed to do?

They can hear Grogu somewhere in the little apartment Din shares with him, happy as anything and entertaining himself and anyway.

“Hey, hi,” Luke says, like an idiot, but that’s fine, it’s great.

Din’s kind of an idiot too, it works for them.

There’s some talking, and Grogu wanders in, clearly hungry and no choice but to make dinner and so on. Luke and Din moving around one another comfortably, don’t really think too much of it, and Grogu helps where he can, also snags little bits of food here and there and is all 0:D? when they shoot him looks, because clearly he’s done nothing wrong his whole life.

Grogu starts nodding off after dinner, and Luke cleans up while Din puts him to sleep, and then it’s finally Din’s turn to do the leaning.

Leans on the counter watching Luke who gives Din a look, like what are you doing, there are dishes to put away -

And then Din stops the whole leaning thing, at least for now, because he’s doing the thing where he presses his forehead against Luke’s, and it’s -

Luke knows what this is now, what it means to Mandalorians, to Din.

And if he still didn’t, there’s no misunderstanding the emotion in the way Din says Luke’s name, like hey, hello, and i’ve missed you so much, and there you are, i found you.

Which should be strange, right, because they barely even knew each other back then, but Luke says the same things to Din when he says his name, when Din hears Luke say his name for the first time, and anyway.

Luke’s not some dumb kid anymore (still dumb, according to Leia and Han and everyone else in Luke’s life, just not a kid), and Din’s not the same man he used to be.

And anyway, this is better isn’t it? All that time to find out who they were, live a lifetime of experiences with everything the galaxy threw at them only to meet once another again afterward? Learn who they’ve become since Tatooine, settled in their skins and anyway.

Not bad for a second date.

Han and Wedge absolutely lose their shit when they meet Din and realize why Luke’s story about his sweetheart from home was a little weird in places? Spots where Luke had to talk around the armor and fact Din’s Mandalorian and just.

Also the bit where Luke was all casual about the almost being murderized for saving Din’s life

“Guys, he wasn’t going to kill me, how many times do I have to tell you that?”

And Din is like. “...what? You thought I was going to kill you?”

“No!”

“Well we did!”

And anyway.

Yeah.

Leia, who has also heard Luke’s sweetheart from home story - it took them a long time to find Han after Cloud City, and there were nights where none of them could sleep and nightmares were plentiful and anyway, she’s heard the story - takes one look at Din and Luke and how happy her idiot of a brother is, and is just.

Finally, someone who makes her brother look like that.

(Happy. Din makes Luke happy.)

#star wars nonsense #dinluke #this really got away from me huh? #wow #technically not a fic #vagrant fic #long post #for reals though #/o\ #sweethearts

[morganaspendragonss]

holly's august extravaganza day 17: you and me (moving through this world as a two-man team)

for both my incredible birthday twin jenny (@laelipoo) and a little bit for myself! i hope you are having a wonderful, wonderful day and i wish you all the love in the world. i'm so glad we became friends and i cannot tell you how glad i am for our conversations 🥰🥰🥰

many, many, many thanks to jenny as well for helping me out with the plot!

ao3 | 3.1k | firefighter carlos, hurt/comfort, pining, developing relationship, major character injury (two of them 😌)

TK does not have a crush on the 126's latest hire.

Carlos Reyes: an Austin local, an incredible firefighter, and—objectively speaking—the most beautiful man TK has ever laid eyes on. Which is, in fact, the entire point; TK has eyes and, yes, he will use them to sneak a look or two when he’s suddenly sharing space with a man who looks like a Greek god.

That does not mean he has a crush, Paul.

(and, sure, maybe he does sometimes dream about how soft Carlos’s lips look and the soft blush he gets when he laughs and those little flecks of gold in his eyes, but he’s only human)

(how TK knows about the gold in Carlos’s eyes is none of anybody’s business)

The thing about Carlos Reyes is that he isn’t only stupidly hot; he’s also just plain nice. TK can’t even make up a flimsy excuse to keep his distance. Carlos is, quite literally, perfect.

He shares recipes and book recommendations with Paul, he spars with Marjan, he discusses superheroes with Mateo, and Judd has had nothing but good things to say since before Carlos even joined them. Apparently they’d worked together a lot before the explosion, when Carlos was with the 116, and he’s ‘one of the best damn firefighters’ Judd has ever seen.

He even makes time to hang with the paramedics, which...isn’t a new development, exactly. But it is recent, and TK is willing to bet they’d still be pretty divided if Tim hadn’t suddenly transferred back to Maryland and he hadn’t taken the leap to be a full paramedic.

Even after that… His friends were hardly going to abandon him after he switched, but Nancy had still only been semi-included at best. She’d called him out about it during their first week working together, but fixing it had been a slow process.

Until Carlos came along, that is. Excluding Judd, they all regularly hang out at his place now, and Nancy’s inclusion had never even been a question. Safe to say, Carlos has charmed everyone in the firehouse, including both captains, and the worst part is, he doesn’t seem to realise he’s doing it.

He’s perfect, from his freakishly toned body to his infuriatingly sweet personality to his incredible skills in the field, and TK does not have a crush, goddammit!

One morning about three weeks after Carlos’s arrival, TK is greeted in the firehouse by the sound of a long, beautiful laugh coming from the kitchen. Three weeks is an embarrassingly short amount of time to admit that he’s memorised everything about him, but he instantly recognises the noise as coming from Carlos, even if he can’t see him yet.

He saunters into the kitchen, where Carlos is standing with Paul, and leans up against the counter. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Carlos turns with a winning smile and holds out a steaming mug of coffee, clearly freshly made even though TK only got in two minutes ago.

He blinks. “How—” Then, taking in the slight pinkness to Carlos’s cheeks, “Are you seriously offering me your own coffee, Reyes?”

Carlos shrugs, forcing the mug into TK’s hands. “I only just made it so technically it belongs to anyone, and I can always make another,” he says. “Besides, you look like you could use it more than me.”

His grin has TK narrowing his eyes and stubbornly refusing to drink even though Carlos is right—he really, really needs it.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that was an insult.”

“Who says you do know better?”

TK splutters, momentarily left speechless in the face of Carlos’s smile and the twinkle in those goddamn eyes. He turns to Paul for help, but Paul...has disappeared. Huh. TK honestly hadn't noticed him go.

He shakes his head and looks back to Carlos, only to be stunned silent again by the way his smile has softened into something else, something more.

TK’s heart skips a beat or two and he swallows, staring down into Carlos’s coffee. “Whatever, Reyes,” he mutters.

It was too late for a witty comeback anyway.

Carlos’s laugh follows him out of the kitchen, and TK wonders when, exactly, he let himself fall this far.

*

“Earth to TK? Hello?”

TK is rudely snapped back to reality by one Nancy Gillian’s hand waving violently in his face. He scowls at her, to which she responds with an eye roll.

“Stop drooling over your man and come help me with inventory.”

“I’m not drooling,” TK argues, following her over to the rig. “And he’s not my man.”

“Right,” Nancy drawls, folding her arms over her chest as she leans against the ambulance. “So you’re just going to deny that weird energy around you two that makes the rest of us feel like we’re creeping on something?”

“Exactly.” TK nods emphatically, then frowns. “Wait, what?”

Nancy casts her eyes heavenward. “You know,” she says, “you’re a lot of things, Strand, but I hadn’t pegged you for oblivious.”

TK’s next words are reflexive, said without thought for the consequences—the story of his life, really.

“I’m not oblivious!”

The grin spreading over Nancy’s face rams home just how much he’s fucked up with those three words. TK drops his head in his hands and groans, unable and unwilling to look Nancy in the eye.

“Not a word,” he warns, which Nancy appears to respect, for now. TK is well aware that there will be words—several of them—later, whether he wants them or not.

The thing is, he really isn’t oblivious. He knows perfectly well what Nancy is talking about and he has often fantasised about all the things he’d do to Carlos given half a chance. TK likes Carlos, way more than just in the physical sense, and he’s pretty sure that Carlos likes him right back. It would be so easy to start something between them and, god, TK wants to. He just… He can’t.

One year—that’s what he promised himself back in New York. One year on his own to sort his head out and figure out how he fits back into the world after the overdose. Granted, his sobriety anniversary is only a couple of months away now, but he refuses to give up on his promise, especially when he’s so close.

Maybe in a couple months, if Carlos hasn’t gotten bored of something that’s clearly going nowhere.

But not now.

*

“He did not ask me out!”

“He totally did, dude, and you know it. You want to say yes, I can tell.”

“No, I don’t. I—”

“Children,” Tommy interrupts from the back of the ambulance. They’re heading to a callout, and Nancy has not let up the entire way about something TK is certain never actually happened. “Either of you want to enlighten me on what the argument is about this time?”

“TK’s too chicken to go out with Carlos,” Nancy jumps in, before TK can stop her.

“I am not!” he protests. “Plus, he wasn’t asking me out, he said we should go over to his place for dinner sometime, which Carlos does all the time. So there.”

“Strand, you are not this dense,” Nancy snarks, probably rolling her eyes. “His exact words were, ‘You should come over sometime’.”

“We were all there! It was obviously the plural you.”

“Oh my god—”

“Alright!” Tommy sighs wearily. “Nancy, can we keep from provoking TK until we’re back at the firehouse and he’s no longer driving?”

“Ha!” TK exclaims, but Tommy’s not done.

“TK, if I weren’t your captain, I’d be telling you that Nancy is right and you should pull your head out of your ass before it’s too late, understand?”

Now it’s Nancy’s turn to be triumphant as TK struggles to form a coherent response. Thankfully, he’s saved from further torment by them finally pulling up at the scene—a warehouse where one of the workers had become trapped after parts of the upper level walkway had broken and fallen. Apparently, the falling metal had caused some of the machinery to malfunction, turning the call from simple to beyond complicated in a matter of minutes.

“TK, grab your turnout gear and your bag; I’m sending you in with them,” Tommy informs him as soon as they’re out of the rig. “Normally, we’d just talk the firefighters through it over radio, but given your training it’ll be quicker and safer for you to deal with our patient.”

TK grins; he’s missed the adrenaline rush of running into emergencies more than he can say. “Got it, Cap.”

“Maybe try and look a little less happy about a serious injury, too.”

“Copy that.”

*

The noise when they enter the warehouse is deafening, an ugly screeching cutting right through TK’s skull.

“Shouldn’t they have shut the machines off?” he shouts, fighting to be heard.

“Apparently they can’t,” Judd calls back. “Something wrong with the control panel, I don’t know exactly what.”

TK groans—just what they need. The sound is lost in the din, but Carlos still looks over and gives him a sympathetic grin, shrugging in a ‘what can you do’ motion. TK can’t help but grin back, the mere sight of Carlos easing the annoyance he feels and the headache already beginning to build behind his eyes.

Their patient, when they reach him, is pinned under a large, heavy-looking sheet of metal. He’s bleeding from a gash on his temple and his skin is worryingly pale, to the extent that TK can tell even from a distance. He jogs to the patient’s side and kneels down, pressing his fingers against his neck.

“Cap, I have a pulse,” he reports into his radio after a few seconds. “But he’s unconscious with a head wound, and I think there are probably injuries I can’t see yet. Possible spinal damage, but I can’t tell until we’ve got this metal off him.”

“Copy that,” Captain Vega says. “Get ready to run a line; he’s gonna need it as soon as he’s free.”

TK nods and moves to secure a c-collar around his neck. “We need to cut this thing off of him,” he says, addressing the team. “Quickly, but carefully.”

Judd steps forward, brandishing the saw. He hands TK a couple of spare turnouts and kneels on the patient’s other side. “Couple of you need to cover him, and yourselves.”

TK doesn’t even have to ask before Carlos appears next to him, taking one of the turnouts from him. He smiles gratefully before arranging himself to provide maximum protection to all three of them as Judd starts working on the metal. The vibrations from the saw are unpleasant, and TK dreads to think what effect it’s having on the already unstable machinery, but it’s the only option they have to get their patient free.

Fortunately, everything seems to go off without a hitch, and soon the team are able to remove the metal. TK immediately gets to work, feeling for any damage. As he suspected, there’s a pretty large gash on the man’s leg which is bleeding badly, though thankfully it seems to have missed any arteries. He also seems to have a broken wrist, but he should heal.

TK quickly wraps his leg, then gets Carlos and Judd to help move him onto the spine board. It feels like, for once, the call has gone as smoothly as possible, and TK allows himself a breath of relief as they prep to get the guy outside to the ambulance.

Naturally, that’s when everything goes to hell.

The machine closest to them lets out a threatening groan and shudders before there’s a loud roar and it explodes. On instinct, TK folds himself over the patient as shrapnel rains down on them, and he sees Carlos doing the same in his periphery.

The downpour seems to last forever, but eventually it slows and comes to a stop. TK cautiously lifts his head, his heart pounding, and sags in relief as it seems that the worst is over.

They need to get out of here, now.

He stands, a brief stab of pain running through his back—probably because of his awkward position over the patient—and turns to Carlos, reaching to offer him a hand up.

Only to see Carlos’s face tight with agony, and then the cause—a jagged piece of shrapnel running right through his hand.

“Carlos,” TK breathes, horrified. Carlos looks up at him, his breathing carefully measured and his eyes wide, and TK drops back to his knees, reaching out for him. “It’s okay, I’ve got you, don’t worry.”

Carlos swallows and nods, his eyes squeezing tight. TK’s heart rate skyrockets, and he’s barely able to keep his cool as he signals to the others to get their first patient out of the warehouse.

“Cap, the team are bringing him out, but we have a problem.”

“Talk to me, Strand, what’s going on?”

“It—It’s Carlos.” TK breathes out shakily and takes a moment to steady himself before continuing, “It’s not serious, but some of the machinery broke apart and some shrapnel impaled his hand. I’ve got to stabilise the shard before we come out to you.”

“Alright, but hurry. I don’t want you guys in there for longer than necessary.”

“Copy.”

Stabilising the shrapnel with rolls of gauze and wrapping Carlos’s hand should be a matter of course—it’s an easy process that TK could probably do in his sleep. But this is Carlos, so his damn hands won’t stop shaking and he almost fumbles and drops his supplies.

He manages though, and soon he’s helping Carlos up, instructing him to hold his injured hand above his heart. Carlos sends him a wobbly smile, which ends up turning out to be more of a grimace, but it’s a comfort nonetheless. Things could have gone so much worse today; TK could have even lost him, and he would have never been able to—

But that’s not important. Carlos is okay, or he will be, and they still have plenty of time to figure out whatever this is between them.

Everything will be okay.

TK’s back and side twinge again as they make their way out, but he brushes it off, too focused on getting Carlos to the hospital as fast as possible. Tommy shakes her head as they make their way over, her eyebrows raised despite the concern clearly in her expression.

“Never a peaceful moment with you, Strand, is it?” she asks dryly, hissing as she inspects Carlos’s wound.

“In my defence, Cap,” he says, more at ease now that they’re safe, “it’s not me who’s injured this time.”

Tommy hums, then directs Carlos into the back of the rig, jumping in after him. “Get back here, TK. Nancy’s driving.”

She has a teasing look in her eyes that instantly makes TK suspicious, but he moves to comply, shrugging off his turnout coat as he does. The movement hurts, which is weird, but he thinks nothing of it.

At least, until Tommy’s eyes go wide and she stands from her seat, holding her hands out towards him. “TK, do not move,” she instructs, her eyes firmly fixed on his right side.

TK frowns, then follows her gaze down, and— Oh.

His grey undershirt is stained with blood, and it’s difficult to miss the large piece of metal sticking out of his side. He has no idea how he missed it, but now that he knows, the pain slams into him full force, causing him to stagger.

“Oh,” he gasps, eloquently.

Then, his legs buckle and the world goes black.

*

TK wakes up to a steady beeping sound, which only exacerbates his pounding headache. He groans, scrunching his face up, before slowly peeling his eyes open, almost slamming them shut again after getting an eyeful of obnoxiously bright fluorescents.

“You’re awake,” a voice says, sounding surprised, then the lights suddenly dim, the room lit by the gentle glow of a lamp. TK sighs in relief and shifts to look at his saviour.

It’s Carlos.

“You… You’re here,” TK states, confused. His gaze drifts down Carlos’s body and lands on the white bandages around his hand, the memories of the warehouse suddenly hitting him all at once. “Shit, you— How are you?”

Carlos shakes his head and comes to sit in the chair by TK’s bed. “I can’t believe you’re the one asking me that.”

“I’m a paramedic, it’s my job.”

“Not when you’re the one in the hospital bed,” Carlos counters, sighing. “If you must know, I’m fine. They gave me some pretty good drugs, so…” He shrugs, and TK can’t help but laugh, which proves to be a very bad idea.

His side lights up, an unnecessary reminder that TK is very much not on the good drugs, and he moans softly, slowly settling back in the bed. “I hate you,” he mumbles, eyes closed.

“You love me,” Carlos says, and TK’s heart seizes in his chest.

The silence after his words is deafening, so TK forces himself to crack his eyes open enough to look at him. Carlos is frozen in his chair, biting his lip hard, and he looks like he either wants to bolt or be swallowed by the earth.

TK thinks he should probably be feeling the same. They’ve been dancing around this issue for weeks now, and he’d thought he had it under control. That he could last that little bit longer until his one year was up; that he could ignore these feelings that have been steadily growing since he first laid eyes on Carlos.

It was a hopeless endeavour; he recognises that now. TK remembers the fear he felt when Carlos was injured back at the warehouse, the desperation for him to be better, and now with his own injury…

He could have lost this chance before he ever got it, and TK isn’t about to let it slip through his fingers now. He reaches out and takes Carlos’s good hand, startling him into meeting TK’s eyes.

“Yeah,” TK whispers, just loud enough for Carlos to hear him. “I think I do.”

The smile Carlos gives him lights up the room, and he doesn’t waste any time in leaning down to kiss TK. And it’s… It’s everything TK had hoped and imagined it would be and more. It’s soft and sweet and gentle and perfect, and he never wants it to end.

But end it does, though Carlos doesn’t go far. TK smiles at him, squeezing his hand with all the strength he can muster.

“That’s a yes, by the way,” he says.

Carlos frowns. “What?”

TK’s smile widens and he flicks his eyebrows at Carlos. “To dinner. Or were you not asking me out after all?”

Carlos huffs a laugh, and the look in his eyes when they lock back onto TK’s melts his heart and makes his entire chest ache. “Does Friday work for you?”

He nods, tugging Carlos down for another kiss. “It’s a date.”

#911 lone star #911 lone star fic #tarlos #tarlos fic #tk strand #carlos reyes #nancy gillian #tommy vega #lone star #911ls #holly's august extravaganza #fanfiction #my fanfiction #writing #my writing #jenny tag #userkimmy #userjillian #tuserpaige #tuserjamie #reyeslonestartag

[beskarberry]

Garden of Ishtar

Bargaining with Beskar, Chapter 9

(The Mandalorian x f!reader) (+18)

"The Universe has a strange way of granting wishes"

<-Previous Next->

Rating: holy shit Explicit

Word count: 15.8k

Content warnings: SEX POLLEN + BREEDING KINK + PREGNANCY KINK with an extra kinky twist! (Dubcon/use of mind altering substances by non-sentient creature/ovipos) Side kinks: dom/alpha, praise, begging, denial, overstim, bonus somnophila. Obvious favorites of p in v, finger blasting, oral f receiving, multiple orgasms and then some. Big gooey heaps of fluff to make up for all the filth. I tried.

A/N: Weird shit happens in space, and this chapter is no exception. This is the most kinks I've crammed into one chapter, almost zero story progression whatsoever, it's just smutty smut the whole way though. Good luck and may the force be with you because you're gonna need it.

“Well, which one do you want?”

“You pick.”

“Fuck no, I picked the last one, you can pick the next.”

It was a bright, lovely, sunshiny day on the forest moon of Endor, the fine weather a stark contrast from how it had been when you had landed. You had opened the access ramps on the Crest to get some fresh air circulating while you made preparations to head towards your next target, but you had to pick a target first.

On a supply crate that you had pushed into the middle of the cabin like a dining room table sat three little pucks, their bounties still as mysterious as they had been when you had wantonly pulled them off of Karga’s countertop. As far as you were concerned it was Din’s turn to pick, and though death was just an occupational hazard in your line of work, there had been too many brushes with the reaper during your last hunt for you to be comfortable picking again.

Leaning against the wide open doorframe you took a deep breath of the fresh, rain-scrubbed air, letting it fill your lungs and clear your head. It was a little humid, though it might have been the nicest day you had seen in a long time. Outside on the dampish grass the foundling was chasing some kind of pretty insect, hopping about trying to catch the elusive critter. It was good for him to get a chance to stretch his legs, no matter how short they were, and you giggled at his antics when he tripped and fell. He squealed and rolled through the grass before he was bounding after another fluttering creature. Without the violent storms the mini-moon was peaceful, serene almost, and in another lifetime maybe you would have settled down here; though you couldn’t imagine being anything besides a hunter. I wonder if that will ever change.

“Really, cyare, you pick.” Sitting across from you, Din was cleaning the last bit of mud from his armor, the thick muck having long dried into a chunky, flaky mess. Everything but the plate he had in his hands now shimmered like spilled mercury over his chest and shoulders, catching the dappled sunbeams that filtered in through the open doors. Your argument over who got to pick the next puck had ground to a stand still, and you were getting frustrated, but not frustrated enough that you would yield.

“It’s not my turn, it’s your turn.” He just shook his head, diligently scrubbing the dirt from the details of the mudhorn on his pauldron without realizing the irony of his efforts. He set the cleaned metal to his shoulder, the clack of its fasteners echoing faintly in the open hold. The Mandalorian sat up straight, leaning his helmeted head against the hull wall and patting his knees, expectantly waiting for you to make your choice. Something about his armored appearance gave you a stupid idea, and you sauntered up to him with a cocky grin. “I’ll fight’cha for it.”

“You’ll what?” The black gloss of his visor tilted sharply, as though you had just grown a second head.

“Fight me! Loser has to pick the puck.” You kicked the tips of his boots and brought your fists up, playfully making soft, slow jabs towards him. He huffed, like he wasn’t used to you having bright ideas by now.

“I’m not going to fight you, cyar’ika, just pick a damn puck already.”

“Them's fightin’ words.” Your knuckles went pap pap pap in quick succession against the hexagonal indent on his chest. “What’re’ya afraid you’re gonna lose?”

He lazily swatted at you, barely even trying to block your attack. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Ha! As if!” You whipped your head forward, sending the beskar you wore on your crown sliding down over your eyes, letting the quicksilver flash of its curved surfaces tell him you meant business. Your jabs got a little meaner, though if you hit him too much harder his own beskar would probably break your fingers. Between his metal plates were a few soft spots, and you honed in on them with sneaky digits. Din jerked visibly when you got the one right under his chest piece, and a swift arm came up and caught your next offence. “Ohoho, so you are awake, I was beginning to think you had fallen asleep on me.”

“I’m not going to hit you.” His words came through his modulator like gravel, irritated that you would even think he would lay a hand on you. Shrugging, you knocked him right in the forehead with the heel of your palm, making his helmet clonk against the durasteel. The next jab you threw was caught and thrown back to you, him tossing your fist away. You went for him again, but when he grabbed both your fists you were pushed back with the force of him rising from his seat. He marched you backwards and shoved you away, then brought his vambraces up in a defensive block, ready for the next attack.

You took one last glance at the foundling, who was sitting sweetly in the grassy meadow, absently trying to catch motes of pollen that were floating by, before launching into your assault. Your fists stung at him with reckless abandon, not enough to actually hurt either of you, though he probably wouldn’t have felt it anyway under his pile of armor. Mando blocked everything you hurled at him, making good on his promise not to hit you, but that was taking all the fun out of it. “Come on, rust bucket, stand up for yourself!” He took everything you gave, deflecting every thrown fist and slowly inching his way closer to you until you were taking steps back to open up your jabs.

“You really want me to fight you? Fine.” He barked, whacking your next punch away. You jumped back to dodge a rapid slew of hook shots, cackling like a lunatic that you had gotten your wish granted.

“Yes! Come on, big boy, fight me! Let’s go! I’m gonna kick your- ass!” Din lunged at you, tackling you like a linebacker and throwing you against the wall. Cornered, you snapped your head forward and rang his bell, disorienting him enough that you could drop out of his grasp and dash out between his legs. He turned on you in an instant, and you made ‘come at me bro’ hands at him before he was on you again. He swiped with a left hook, chuffing you lightly on the shoulder while you socked him back; though you weren’t nearly as gentle, stinging your knuckles on his unyielding iron.

A bandoliered boot went for your shins, and you stomped back at it, kicking sideways at the plates of his thighs. You hopped, switched legs, and spun a roundhouse straight into the side of his gut. On anyone else it would have been a crippling blow, but your Mandalorian grabbed your lifted ankle and hauled you to him, using your own weight against you to palm your sternum and flip you on your back. The wind was knocked from your lungs when you hit the floor, but not enough that you didn’t get a knee up as he tried to pin you under him, and you kicked up into his gut and flipped him over your head; the sound of his armor hitting the ground ringing loud and ugly.

You kicked up and tossed yourself backwards in the same spring, putting you over top of his breastplate. Throwing your knees back you locked his arms under your ankles, straddling his chest so you could hold his helmet down. “That all you got?”

“You wish!” Din squirmed and kneed you in the ass, tossing you off of him. You rolled away and scrambled to your feet, narrowly avoiding another flying tackle. The cabin of the Crest wasn’t giving you much space to work with, and you hauled ass down down the ramp before he could catch you again. “Oh now you want me to chase you, ner riduur?” He hollered, swinging his arms wide in a challenging stance.

You turned and wiggled your ass at him, slapping yourself tauntingly before the sound of armored thunder had you running for cover. You ran past the foundling on the ground, braking quickly next to him to pat his head before his father was upon you, and you missed being snatched by the skin of your teeth.

Hopping back a few paces you put up your dukes, and this time the beskar took the bait. The Mandalorian threw punches left and right, more forceful than he had started with but not enough to actually hurt. You took a few blows to your forearms and shoulders before lashing out with a wild throw. The sound of fists on metal echoed against the tree trunks that surrounded the sunny meadow while you took on the mighty warrior, though armor was kicking your ass for him, and you nearly dashed yourself to pieces on the plate of his chest.

“Had enough yet?”

You roared in response and threw your whole body at him, making quick jabs at the meat of his sides where his armor was thinnest. He keeled sideways, dropped himself into a crouch, and lunged, tackling you to the ground. Damn it! Time to fight dirty! You pulled an arm free of his grasp and grabbed his cloak, throwing it over his helmet and wrapping it up tight, temporarily blinding him. He sat up to try and unravel the fabric from his face, and in that split second you grabbed the backs of his knees and yanked, flopping him back down onto his back. The pinner had become the pin-ee, and you squashed yourself up between his legs and thrust into his groin, making him keen in surprise.

“You’re mine, bantha-butt!” Tangled in the cloak he squirmed under you until he was free of your trap, giving you a confused head tilt at your position. You hooked your arms under his knees and ground yourself up against his ass, making him grunt underneath you before he wrapped his legs around your middle and rolled, throwing you down onto the ground. Both of you grappled for dominance, rolling and tossing each other through the soft, dampish grass until you were on top of him again, straddling his waist.

“That’s better.” He hummed, grabbing your wrists and pulling you down to him where he could wrap his arms around your writhing form. “You’re mine, you little womp rat.”

“Nuh uh! You’re under me, that means I win, chumbucket.” You threw your weight around, trying to coax one more good roll out of the two of you, but he had you in his clutches. A dark, lecherous laugh reverberated in your ear, and you felt him rut up against your crotch to demand your complacency. Between your legs the faintest outline of his shaft slotted against you, fitting so well against the cradle of your body that it really might have been made just for you; but you grabbed his shoulders and pushed him harder into the grass. “Not in front of the foundling, you big horndog.”

“Says the one riding me.” A soft, leather-clad hand left your captured shoulders to slide your mask up and brush the grass from your hair, gently tucking a stray lock behind your ear; and you pressed your face into his palm as it passed back down. The rumble in his chest went right through your legs up your spine until your cheeks blushed under his thumbs. “Mesh’la…”

Something twitched under you, and as much as you would like to indulge him, sass came to you more naturally. “Is this why you didn’t wanna fight me?” You rolled your hips over his, giving him a tantalizing tease. “Gets you all fired up?”

His helmet rolled, trying to avoid your skull-boring gaze. “Maybe…”

“Well maybe when we get into hyperspace we can do something about that, but not until that one has gone to bed.”

Ahead of you the foundling was laying back in the grass, watching his adopted parents with big googly eyes. Din followed your gaze, and the two of you made stupid little waves at your child. Beans waved back and stood up, teetering over to the pair of you on his little stubby legs. You laid against the breadth of your mate’s chest and reached for the goofy green baby, who happily ran into your arms.

“Heya, Goob! What’cha up to, huh? Catchin’ bugs?” You sat up and leaned back, ignoring the heavy hands that laid on your thighs while you chatted with the foundling. The baby gibbered and told you all about his fun in the sun, but under you the slow gyration of hips was starting to get distracting. “Beans, tell your dad to stop being naughty.”

“Me? You started this.”

“Bah! I don’t start things, I only finish them.” Under you your beskar burdened buddy sighed and let his head fall back into the grass, shaking it back and forth at your foolishness. You hefted the foundling up in the air, making him squeal in delight, and the sweet sounds of his laughter gave you a better idea. “You know what? I bet he would like to pick a puck!”

“Thank the fucking stars, does that mean we can get going?”

“Yeah yeah fussbucket come on. You’re so damn impatient!” You made one last amorous swirl of your hips before leaping up from your man, running with the baby high above your head as you dashed circles around the ship. It was good for both of you to spend time together that wasn’t just on the trail, and you treasured the few moments of comfort you got to have as a pack between hunts. You ran a few more laps before flying up the ramp to where Mando had already beaten you there, and you plopped the baby down on the makeshift table where the pucks had miraculously survived your wrassling. “Ok buddy boy, can you pick a puckie for me?”

The baby tossed his arms in the air and squeaked like he would rather go for another round of flight simulator, but you plopped down on the ground in front of him and pointed at the pucks again. He tilted his head, making his airplane ears flop akimbo. The foundling looked down at the pucks, back up to you, and then -slapped- the one in the middle as hard as he could. The pucks projector fired up and glowed ghostly blue in front of the child’s wondrous eyes, and he tried to grab at the thing showing in its center.

The holo must be malfunctioning, maybe the baby hit it too hard, but the picture wasn’t of a face, or even a person for that matter; it was something round, egg shaped almost. Beside you, your Mandalorian was making the same confused head tilts that you were, and he tapped a leather finger to the puck’s button, turning it off and on again, but the same image remained. “That can’t be right, have you ever seen one like this?”

You shook your head, puzzled by the purplish object that floated before you. Maybe it was some kind of stone or seed, or even an egg like its shape suggested. The pucknotes had a counter next to the ovoid, indicating that more credits would be rewarded for the quantity of items procured. Besides a description of the item and the indicator, the puck notes had one last useful tidbit of information, the last known location:

Hoth.

“Wait, Hoth? There’s nothing on Hoth! You sure this thing’s not fucked up?” Din shrugged, making his plates clack before he got up and started getting the ship around, closing ramps and scooting crates back into place. “Shit balls of hell, alright! Fucking Hoth it is.” You’d been to Hoth maybe all of two times chasing down the stupidest, most idiotic bounties, and not once had you seen anything of value there. “Of course it has to be somewhere cold, we already did cold. One of those fucking pucks better go to a goddamn beach or something or I’m gonna lose my mind.”

“You sure you haven’t already? I mean,” Din stopped rearranging the furniture to swagger up to you, catching your hand in his own. “You did try to fight with a Mandalorian.”

“Bah! And I’d do it again, too, you’re not that intimidating.” Playfully you tried to take your hand back, but he was a professional bounty hunter, and he didn’t let his captures get away so easily. Thick, leatherbound fingers laced themselves between your own, and your other arm was taken hostage and brought to his shoulder so he could rest a heavy palm on your hip unhindered. You let your hand wander up his pauldron to the edge of his helmet, sneaking a finger between the metal and the man to toy with his curls. The hand on your waist pulled you closer, and he gently pressed his helmet to your brow.

“Riduur’ika,” He purred, making the cool beskar rumble against your skin. “You don’t think I’m… intimidating!?” The arm against your waist hugged you tight while the other twirled you around in a circle, and you made some kind of undignified squeak as you were dipped low. Parallel to the ship's floor, you clawed at his cowl as if he would drop you, though his grip was stronger than beskar. You caught the reflection of your own wild eyes as his visor tilted to meet your gaze. “How about now?”

Safe in his arms, you snorted a laugh and stuffed your hands under his helmet to pick the latches free and toss the heavy thing off, ignoring the sound of it rolling away from you while you kissed your husband. The Mandalorian’s warm, soft lips against your own muffled the few stray giggles that tried to escape your mouth, tickled by not only his romance but also his mustache. Those dark chocolate eyes of his met your own, and the edges of his cheeks rolled right up into them with a dazzling smile. Maker help you.

“Din! Where the hell did you pick that up from?” A warm laugh reverberated against you before he was pushing his lips to yours in another fiery kiss.

“Saw it in a holovid once, some kind of… courtship ritual, I think. I’ve, uh, always wanted to t-try it…” His wavering baritone trailed off with a hint of embarrassment, and you couldn’t help but snicker.

“‘Courtship ritual’, huh? Golly gee willikers, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you were flirting with me.”

His cheeks flushed pink, “Is it working?”

“Mmm… no.”

The gorgeous smile on his scruffy face was replaced with a scowl a mile wide, but you laughed and kissed at it anyway. You heard him inhale sharply when you started to push your tongue past his lips, and he met yours with his own. Without parting, he slowly stood the pair of you back up, and you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders to pull him even closer.

Free from the muck of the forest floor that had clung to his armor, or the stygian waters of the river soaking his cloak, the familiar scent of him had returned. Rich and smokey, sweat and leather and blast plasma and the faintest remnants of the fresher soap you adored. The spice of him saturated your lungs and drenched your heart with the promise of his eternal company, giving you that delightfully warm and gooey feeling that he alone could give.

You pulled your lips from his and kissed at his cheeks and the tip of his angular nose before grabbing the sides of his head and bringing his brow back to yours. He almost fought you over it, torn between wanting his lips against your skin and the joy of you indulging in his sacred inheritance. Either way, the stubborn little ‘patu’ that peeped up from the floor had you both pulling away to bring the foundling into your arms, you were a clan of three, after all.

It would take a few jumps to make it to your next destination, and if she could speak, the Razor Crest would tell you how glad she was for your company as she carried you through the stars. There had been a time in the old ship’s life where she had only known silence, save for the screams of captured bounties, her hull had been nearly barren with only her captain for comfort. But then the foundling had come into her Mandalorian’s life, and the sweet sounds of a child’s laughter warmed her steel heart, amplified tenfold by the starsongs you brought with you when you had arrived as well.

Like a serenade written to the stars themselves the three of you flowed through her ironsides, a triple-part harmony that reverberated from the top of her transparisteel dome to the depths of her cantankerous stardrive. The chimes of the navigation panel had gone unheard while the streaking stars spiralled around the old dropper, her passengers fully engrossed with each other's company. There was so much laughter now, between stories told and songs sang high, the starcraft’s walls nearly rang with mirth.

The jokes you would tell, as terrible as they often were, made the Crest’s captain smile so often now; his scruffy cheeks going right up into his eyes whenever he flashed those pearly whites. He was so sweet, so gentle when the beskar was lifted from him, as if a new man was made every time the armor fell away. The oath of riddurok had given him such a gift, the gift of touch, and he relished in it at every turn; pressing kisses to the faces of the two he loved most.

And when it was time to rest, hidden away in the little sleeping alcove the three of you laid, wrapped more tightly together than any captured quarry. Below the howl of the hyperdrive engine, so faint it was almost like a secret, would come the sound of your starsongs. For your boys alone would you let yourself remember the rhymes of timelost sailors, sang low and slow to ease them to sleep. The foundling usually blacked right out on the first verses, but your unarmored husband would grapple with the pull of sleep for as long as he could, just to hear your voice.

When you dropped out of hyperspace the uncaring iceball called Hoth dominated your view, nearly blinding you with its glaring white surface. Your captain flew the Crest over the snowy expanse, looking for any sign of life or even a point of interest, but the ice fields seemed to stretch on forever between snow covered steppes. You had to pull your visor down just to be able to look out the window, and you attempted to cycle its settings as if that would do you any good, but everything came back as solid colors as far as the eye could see.

“This is bullshit, there’s nothing down there.” In your palm the bounty puck glowed faintly, making a liar out of you; but you ignored it to watch a herd of large, bipedal herbivores making their way along a mountainous ridge. The Crest put the animals in the rear view quicker than you would have liked, and you leaned against the transparisteel with a huff. In your lap the foundling was watching joyfully out the window, seemingly undeterred by the blinding snow. You started trying to get the baby rearranged when you saw the fob flash erratically before going back to lazy blinks. “Din wait! I think we passed it!”

“Passed what? I don’t see anything.” Below you the vast expanse was flat as a fresh pressed sheet, only dotted here and there with specks of icy blue.

“Circle around!” You tucked the foundling under your arm and unbuckled yourself from your seat to squish into the narrow space between Din’s armrest and the dashboard so he could see the fob for himself. He slowed the mighty metal bird down as slow as she would go and flew her in a wide circle back towards the way you’d come in.

Flash… flash… flash flash flASHFLAsh flash… flash…

“You see that? There gotta be something down there, maybe it’s under the snow. Take us down, captain!” In the corner of your eye you caught the slightest jostle of his helmet, though it could have just as easily been the rocking of the ship that made his head move, but you knew better. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, captain.” The poorly veiled cheekiness in his voice was met with a loving suckerpunch against the side of his pauldron. You’d completely failed to learn your lesson about the bite of beskar, and you hissed at the iron’s sting on your knuckles. The Crest floated down gently, her engines kicking up flurries of crisp white snow over the broad expanse. The moment the landing struts had locked into place your armored companion was grabbing for your wrist. “That’s why you shouldn’t try to fight me, mesh’la.”

“Bite me.”

A soft thumbpad brushed gently against your reddening knuckles, making you wince just slightly. The black gloss of his single eye slowly coasted up to meet your own, then cocked sideways. “Looks like I already did.” With his other hand he lifted the edge of his helmet just enough to press the softest kiss to the back of your hand, and though his sweetness made your heart thunder against its cage, the wry upturn of his lips almost made you want to punch him again.

Under your arm the foundling squirmed and cooed, and you brushed your captured hand along the edge of your husband’s bristly jaw before pulling the child around to your chest so you could both look out the window. The alabaster plains stretched out in all directions like the Dune Sea of Tatooine, nothing for miles.

“Din I think this fob is busted, and probably the puck too, there’s fuckall out-”

*-crik- c-c-crrrack craack!-*

Something snap-crackle-popped outside the ship, like the sound of suspension cables breaking. High pitched creaks between deep, almost gutterel booms. Ice.

“Cyare… don’t… move.” The armored monolith was frozen solid, more frozen than the ice underneath you apparently. Not even the sound of his modulated breathing could be heard in the stillness of the flightdeck.

*...cricckckcick..creeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeak……cruUNCH!-*

The ship lurched, a vicious gash splitting the ice below you. You lurched with it, your heart leaping to your throat as your arms squished the baby tight. A gloved hand shot from the steering controls to steady you.

*-k-k-reaaaak thuddduddudud… crRONCH!-*

“Oh fuck.”

*….CrAcK-!*

The Crest tilted nose-first into the growing abyss, and your oathsworn had only a split second to haul you and the foundling into his seat before the old girl was hurtling through the breach.

For a moment you were in free fall, a canyon of aquamarine flying past the window, darkening with every passing second. It felt like slow motion, your legs becoming weightless while the rest of you was anchored to the pilots seat.

*-ka-RuNcH!-*

Rigid muscle and beskar enveloped you as the Razor hit the ground, metal crunching and screeching with the impact. Your deathgrip on the foundling was only matched by the armored grasp around you, keeping the two of you locked safely to Din’s chest. Bulbs flickered and wires sparked in the waning light of the flight deck, though your eyes were so tightly screwed shut you didn’t notice. You took a cautious breath, only now aware that you had been holding it before wrenching an eye open. Beskar dominated your view, the heavy helmet of your husband pressed tightly to your face.

“Are you ok?” came a modulated whisper.

“Yeah, are you?” He nodded against you, and you peeled yourselves apart to inspect the foundling that was encased between your chests. Baby Beans chirruped and ogled at his fussing buir, the two of you knocking into each other while you both checked him for damage. When he’d passed both your inspections you glanced around the cockpit, though you guessed from the sound of the impact most of the damage would be down below.

You practically needed a crowbar to get Din’s arms off of you, his protector’s instinct running at full bore to guard his clan, but you managed to weasel out of his iron grasp. Frigid air gusted up through the ladder hole before you’d even crossed the short distance to the drophatch, making you shudder. Below, the force of the impact had torn the Razor’s walls asunder, breaking apart her riveted seams. Icy wind blew in through the gashes, freezing the mist that sprang from your eyes.

“Oh, my poor Lady…” You whispered, your heart aching from seeing your ship so wounded. Heavy boots made their way down the ladder behind you, and you turned to your oathsworn, “Can… can we fix this?”

“We can try, but you need something warmer.” Stoic as the day you met, Mando strode to the bent lockers and forced his way in, pulling out a heavy parka and draping it around your shoulders. The cold weather garb was entirely too big for you, but it snuggled around you like a warm hug, blocking out the frigid breeze. In your arms the foundling peeped out from the collar, just enough to watch his papa without getting too chilly.

Din was elbow deep in another wrecked cabinet, scrounging up whatever tools he could find to repair the damage. You joined him at the growing pile, holding onto the child with one arm and trying to pick a portable welder up with the other. Hands too full, you ducked into the oversized parka and worked to stuff the baby up under your shirt, cinching your belt under his butt so he wouldn’t fall out. There, stay warm you little fart.

It took a while for the two of you to make enough progress on the broken bird to get her closed up again, but many hands make the work lighter. Ship repair had been your very first duty when you went starborne, and your hands remembered how to bend durasteel to your will, though you would probably need to get to an actual mechanic if you were going to be star-worthy again.

Occasionally you caught the tilt of your Mandalorian’s visor when you fired up the welder or cranked a ratchet against a stubborn bolt, snapping away from you when you’d shoot him a sly wink. Once the cabin was passable, it was time to work on the exterior, but you swatted at Din’s occupied mitts, demanding that the two of you take a rest beforehand. His back cracked when he stood up straight, and though he wouldn’t admit it, a break was a good idea.

“Do you have a kettle or something I can make hot water in? I think I saw a canister of broth we can heat up.” Your repair work on the hull must have been pretty damn efficient, because the parka was beginning to get warm, and you started to shrug it off when you heard the rackety sound of something clattering to the floor.

“B-buir’ika?” Behind you, Din had dropped a heavy tool and was staring at you with that black hole gaze of his.

“Boo-ear-eeka? What does- oh!” You glanced down at yourself and laughed, your tunic protruding with a large, rounded tummy. “Chilly beans!” Bending forward, you pulled your collar down so your oathsworn could see the half-lidded eyes of the cozy foundling hidden below the swell of your breasts. “I didn’t want him to get cold.”

When you looked up from the babe’s sweet face, your armored husband had silently crossed the length of the hold and was nervously reaching towards you, his hands hovering over the lumpy shape in your middle. Gently he set his palms to where the child was bundled, slowly gliding over the taut fabric and making you flush crimson. Din did a double take on your cherry-red face and pulled away, muttering an apology and hastily returning to his duty as kettle-fetcher.

When you’d gotten the foundling out of your shirt and the thin soup heated, you sat down on your regular eating crate with your crew. The three of you took your break quietly since eating or drinking in your presence still made Din a little embarrassed, but between his timidness and the awkward term of endearment the tension in the cabin was so thick you could cut it with a vibro. He usually pressed his back to yours, but now he was hunched over his bowl of broth, sipping silently.

When your cup was empty you got up from your seat, pressed a kiss to each of your boy’s heads, and got your tools around to work on the outside of the Crest. You were garbed and out the exit before Din could protest, though you wouldn’t have listened anyway if he did. Once the ramp closed behind you, you took a deep breath of the glacial air, letting it clear your head. Shore leave was a luxury you rarely got to indulge in during your early years, and your love of having your boots on the ground only got stronger as the years went by.

The basin you had crashed into sprawled beneath the ice sheet high above your head, supported by enormous pillars of frozen water. This had probably been a lake once, or even a small sea, but when the water drained it left behind the frozen aquifer you now found yourself stuck in. High above you the light from where you had fallen through the ice cast frosty sunbeams through the falling snow, faintly illuminating the mythical columns in cobalt and turquoise hues.

Your boots crunched through the ancient permafrost as you made your rounds, taking a mental checklist of the Razor’s damage. Her keel had taken the brunt of the impact, but one of her wingtips was pretty busted up, a twisted panel sending sparks into the cerulean cathedral that would probably take two people to fix.

Out of curiosity you pulled the blinker from somewhere in your parka, relieved to see that it was indeed flashing. If you had thrown your crew to the depths of Niflheim on a busted fob you might never forgive yourself. You wondered what the acoustics would be like in the icy cavern, but the threat of bringing the fragile ice sheet down around your ears kept you quiet. Holding the fob up, you made a wide circle around the ship, trying to pinpoint which way the blinks were fastest. This way… You cast a quick glance over your shoulder at the Crest with her ramps still closed, and started towards your quarry.

~

In the ship's durasteel depths, Din sighed and groaned, unsure how to feel. He hated not being next to you, but he respected you enough to know you might need some space after… that. He tried to distract himself by wiping off the foundling’s mush-mouth with the edge of his cloak, but that almost made things worse. Our foundling.

Everything about The Way encouraged the safety and procreation of younglings, and not only as a riduur but also an Alor he should be fathering many children with you to recover Mandalore’s losses. But you had said you weren’t ready, and he honored your wishes, but even so, his heart ached with the desire to see you filled with his warriors.

He knew he shouldn’t, but that was suddenly all he could imagine, you round and glowing and full…

“Damn it.” He could feel his face flush red, and the honeyglow seeped through his bones all the way down to his guts, forcing him to pull his helmet back on just to regain his composure. When the visor was back over his eyes, he glanced down at the foundling, who was making some kind of face up at him. “This is your fault.”

“Patu!”

~

The Crest was a good distance behind you now, the edges of her wings partially obscured by the ice, but not quite out of eyeshot. The air was stagnant so far below the surface, the cold of it sitting heavy in your lungs and freezing inside your nose. Aside from the towers of frost and fallen snow, the cavern was empty. Enormous, but empty. This fucking fob, there’s nothing here. You were half tempted to chuck the hunk of garbage away or stomp it out, take the loss just to get the fuck out of here, when you felt a subtle breeze waft over you.

You were too far from the breach for it to be coming from above you, and you held perfectly still, trying to determine its source. Too faint, you bent down and scooped up a handful of snow, chucking it high above you and watching the way it fell. That way! Suddenly excited to play Arctic Explorer, you hustled to find the source of the breeze.

Twice more you used the snow as a compass until you were at a colossal glacier, the size of it easily big enough to swallow a large starship. A splotch of dark blue stood out against the ivory, and as you got closer you saw it was a fissure in the ice, a tunnel of some kind. Maybe this is where the water went. The air coming out of it was making your parka flap around you while you held up the fob: flashflashflash. Whatever it is you were tracking had to be down there, and you brushed ice crystals off of your faceplate to flip through your extrasensory settings until thermal flickered to life.

Warm. The air coming out of the tunnel was warm, though only by a few degrees more; not enough to thaw your bones, but enough to register on your visor. You stepped forward, tucking your head into the tunnel. Dark as the depths of an ocean and just as blue, the frozen tube stretched away, darker and darker until it turned to void. Stepping just inside the entrance, you flailed when your boots nearly lost traction.

This is dangerous, I don’t know what’s in there. A gust of air blasted around you as if to warn you away. Could be anything, maybe I should wait for- Ah FUCK!

The thought was knocked from your skull when your boots slipped out from under you and you slid ass over teakettle down the icy channel, vanishing into the dark.

~

The inside of the Crest was immaculate, more ship-shape that she had been in a long time. Din had to keep busy, after the repairs were given another once-over and you still hadn’t returned he had started reshelving all the tools and cookware, and only when the last thing left to do was mop did he give up his endeavors. Where the hell is she? He was getting anxious, more so than he usually was. His hands fidgeted with the strap that crossed his chest, thumbing at each of the slugs in line. She should be back by now.

What if she’s hurt? His hands froze on the leather, his breath catching in his chest. He knew you were capable, but what if something got you, or you fell or… or…

“Kid, let’s go.” The ‘what ifs’ that drained out of his thoughts and down his throat turned to bile in the pit of his stomach, and he had to do something about it. She can be as mad at me as she wants, I don’t care, I just need to know she’s safe. Quickly he grabbed a few supplies, loading up his rucksack with rehearsed precision: bacta, shovel, thermos, jet pack, munitions, rations. The foundling gibbered while his papa wrapped him up in a heavy blanket before setting him in his pram. I’m coming, cyare!

~

The slip-and-slide you had gotten yourself into wooshed past your ears, and you could only curl in a ball to protect yourself as you hurtled through the chasm of ice. The violet hue coming through your visor slowly turned to warmer tones as the temperature steadily increased. You struggled to grab a vibro off of your belt as you spun through the dark, but the singing dagger only scraped against the solid ice, the permafrost so old and strong that not even steel could cut it.

Under you the angle changed sharply, tossing you on your ass over another slope before you were falling through the air. You tucked and rolled when you hit the ground, desperately trying not to get your neck broken. Skittering to a halt, you cautiously let yourself uncurl, but what your eyes saw made you think you had landed on your head.

“Woah.”

~

The top of the Crest was still damaged, though Mando knew you had left with the intent to do repairs. Not up there. Your footprints circled around the old ship in a few loops before heading off into the cavern. Fuck, where did she go? The prints from your shoes still glowed faintly with residual heat on his visor, and he checked on the foundling’s comfort one more time before following your trail.

~

The Universe has a strange way of granting wishes.

Crystalline gravel crunched underfoot as you approached the beach you had landed in front of. Mineral-rich water bubbled and boiled in front of you with volcanic heat, steaming up the chamber you now found yourself in. The thick, viscous ooze was so leden with salts that its edges were caked with jagged deposits that lapped against the sides of tall, crested structures that almost resembled a reef. The subterranean coral ranged in size and height from just below your knees to easily three times your height, almost brushing the stalactites that hung from the vaulted ceiling.

You wished you had a holo-corder or data cube handy, because there was no way anybody had been here before, though maybe for good reason. The colors on your visor ranged from bright yellow to teal to hot motherfuckin’ pink, and you lifted your faceplate up to wipe at the sweat that was beading on your brow. The vibrancy of the reef without your sensors was even more garish in person, caught in the radiant light that seemed to drip from the ceiling on the tails of glow worms.

The ground under your boots sounded like glass breaking as you wandered through the cavern, spellbound by the sprawling grove. It took a herculean effort to bring your gaze down to the fob in your hand: FLASHFLASHFLASH! You held the tracker high, doing a little spin to try and locate the target, letting your feet walk on their own. Maybe the coral is the target? Stopping at a particular orange staghorn, you held the fob to its spongy flesh, nope, not this one…

From fan to tube to spiraling tower you walked, holding the fob up to each one in turn, waiting for a solid link. The reef thickened as you moved away from the lagoon, growing in taller and thicker clusters until you had to scrape your way between them to continue. Under your parka you were sweating like a quacta, but the spiny polyps on some of the branches could easily scratch you without it as you wormed your way between them. The crystalline gravel under you started to make a different noise, from a crunchacrunch to a squishasquash. Beneath your boots, long, dark purple roots were growing, pulsating with the fluid that flowed through their veins. Eww…

~

The silence of the cerulean cathedral weighed heavy on Mando's audio processors, more so than the stillness of the air. He was in full hunter mode, following your tracks to where you were hopefully safe and sound, though if he let himself think anything else he worried he might have a full blown panic attack. No, can’t think about that. Find the quarry, find your wife. Don’t think about her being hurt, or lost or scared or…

From the open pram a chirruping coo echoed softly between the towering pillars of ice, bringing Din’s attention to his son. Though the foundling looked alright, the tips of his ears were turning the faintest shade of blue. Din pulled his cloak off, though he needed it just as much in the sub-zero space, his foundling always came first. The fabric heaped out of the pram, almost covering the child completely. If she were here, would she put the baby in her shirt again to keep him warm?

Suddenly he didn’t need his cloak, the fire in his chest surging out to burn at his ribs and scald his cheeks. He stopped, shaking his head at the embarrassment that sprouted from his scorched insides. You’ve got it bad, Djarin. Your tracks had lost their heat, but he could still clearly see your footprints in the snow, and a flood of determination spurred him on. Find the quarry.

~

The dark purple roots lead you to a grove of anemone shaped corals, their thick tentacles reaching for the jagged sky. At the center of their radials sat a fat, lumpy bulb, protected by fleshy limbs. Draped between the spires, more of the icky veins hung like vines, throbbing and pulsing with whatever goo they were filled with.

Touching the blinker to the closest arm, the flashing red light went solid, bingo! “This is it!” Your excited voice would have echoed in the chamber that you had fallen from, but the sponges soaked up your words. You’d left the puck back on the Crest, but you remember you were here for some kind of shape, eggish or stone like, but the waving arms arched upwards into bare, knobbly tips. Fruitless.

That left the pod in the center, probably some kind of seed in the bottom of its pistil. Gonna have to cut my way though. You turned your attention to the viney spires that blocked your path to the center and pulled a vibro from your now sweat-soaked parka. Cautiously, and without turning on the thrummer, you touched the blade to the creeping flesh.

Your knife sank easily, and the fluid that filled the tentacles oozed readily out over the steel. Oooooh, pretty! Though it was mostly clear, the syrup gleamed with a holographic, oily shine, looking like a melted rainbow as it seeped through the wound. The open gash quickly grew new vines that slimed their way around their host trunk, pulsating with goop. Weird.

What hit you next was the smell, an intoxicating sweetness like honey on fruit sitting out on a hot summer day. If the anemone was poisonous, it had a devilish way of attracting its prey, whatever that might be, because the temptation to lick your knife clean became almost overwhelming. That is the stupidest goddamn idea you’ve ever had, get cuttin’, damn it! You hacked and slashed your way to the center, trying to out-cut the regrowth; but the scent quickly made you feel hazy. You reached out to grab one of the arms for support, your cloudy head threatening to toss you on your ass, and the serpentine buds tried to coil around your wrists. Sonofabitch! Fuck off ya big vegetable. Just… just a little further.

~

“Of course this is where she went.” Standing at the crack in the ice, Mando was pacing back and forth with his hands stabbed to his hips. Your tracks ended abruptly at the fissure, and the slick surface told him you had probably slipped and fell into the dark, and he was going to have to jump down after you. The hole stretched far away through the ice, so far that not even his full helmet’s array of sensors could detect the bottom. He rested a boot on the icy surface, giving it an experimental slip. If he fell down the hole as well, he would be no good to either of you.

Every protective instinct told him to jump, go in after you, get you to safety, but his hunter instincts knew better. Fishing the trencher from his bag, he sat down at the entrance and tucked the shovel under his knees, pointy side out. He pulled the foundling’s crib into his lap and carefully started the slide. The shovel blade screeched against the tunnel, and though it couldn’t break the ice it would at least slow him down as he scraped his way through the dark.

~

You were dizzy, the coral’s perfume making you falter. Your goal was so close, but in your haze you were starting to get tangled in the vines that laced through the anemone's arms, and it wasn’t long before they were tangled around your own outstretched limbs. Stupid fern, ger’off me! Yanking against the tendrils only seemed to make things worse, and soon your legs were being caught up as well. Fuckin’shit’it’all. Progress to the core stopped completely, and you stood a moment to catch your breath. Fucksake, this shit is strong! You knew you weren’t moving, but even dazed you could feel something snaking around your boots, and you kicked at the movement, horrified to find that you couldn’t. Shit balls of fucking hell!

The slimy vines coiled around your legs, and you fought valiantly to cut them away, but the more you cut the more seemed to grow like hydras from the anemone's wounds. They were up to your knees, then your waist, and the weight of them started to pull on you until you were dragged to the ground. Struggling in their grasp, they tightened on your arms until you could only writhe like an insect caught in a spiders web. You started to scream, but the creeping thing stuffed itself up under your faceplate and plunged into your mouth.

Something warm and wet oozed between your teeth, and you bit down on the assaulting tendril, only to flood your mouth with more of the sweet syrup. Even in your panic you were taken aback by the taste of it, sweet and rich, almost ambrosial, and a wildly primal instinct told you that you wanted more. Around your limbs the vines were not constricting, merely holding you down, and you took another cautious gulp of the nectar. Your fear began to subside, though in the back of your mind you knew it shouldn’t; you were in a subterranean hellscape, far away from your partner, with some bullshit plant keeping you hostage, but maybe one more taste wouldn’t hurt...

You sucked at the intruder, delighted to find it give you more of the tasty substance, the flavor of it settling warm and snuggly in your belly. Closing your eyes you lapped away, enjoying the hazy, almost drunken feeling that was washing over you. It was blissful and comforting, even wrapped up in the living spires you couldn’t be bothered to care as long as you got to have more.

Something slithered up around your legs and waist, but caught up in the ambrosia you paid it no mind until it was worming its way into the waistband of your pants. Your trousers were pulled down around the tops of your boots, and though the sweltering volcanic atmosphere was making you sweat, the heat burning between your legs almost made the air feel cold. The sudden change in temperature reeled you back to reality, and you tried to spit the vine out while you squirmed in the hydra’s grasp. Another gush of nectar leaked over your tongue, and you greedily sucked it down, feeling another wave of cozy fogginess settle in your head.

Not even the sweetness on your lips could distract you from the feeling of something slimeing its way between your legs, leaving a trail of slick around your entrance. The goop tingled, leaving the same warm and wet feeling behind that it was leaving in your throat. Maker help you it felt good, though some distant instinct screamed to you that it shouldn’t, but you couldn’t hear it if you wanted to. Your back arched, driving your hips against the coils between your thighs, chasing the sensation.

The hydra’s arms pushed their way inside you, many thin strands that sqirmed and writhed, working to stretch you wider. Their efforts slicked past your clit, rubbing the tantalizing ooze around the sensitive little nub while they opened you up. Your hips rocked on their own, though in your captured state you were nearly helpless to chase your own high, but the coral’s limbs worked you up for you. Inside you could feel them, sliding past each other in the warm slick in tandem with the rubbing on your aching clit making you obscenely wetter.

You cried out around the knob still in your mouth as a thicker arm started to push up into you, gliding through the slick nectar. The smaller vines coiled around the newcomer, spiraling up its length as it started to pump in and out of your dripping cunt, adding ridges to the smooth length. Fuck it’s thick! The ties on your legs held you in place as the tendril fucked itself into you, twisting and slimeing around your insides. Hot streams of juice, both yours and the hydra’s, coursed down your thighs almost embarrassingly fast, and you choked and gasped around the spigot while you came.

As if it was emboldened by your orgasm the tentacle surged up into you, leaking what felt like gallons of the wonderful, mind numbing nectar into your fluttering cunt until it was pouring out of you. It thrust against your cervix, dragging the smaller tips around the sensitive muscle. More of the threadlike tendrils tried to push in with the larger one, plucking at your clit and folds and playing you like a sinful harp.

The sensation of it all stoked fire in your core until it was nearly burning you alive, and you gladly let the blaze consume you as the devious creature fucked you stupid. Warm juice practically gushed out of you when you came again, squirting all over the arms that held you captive. Your legs were pulled further apart, anything to open you up to fit more of the sneaky devils in you until you were stretched as wide as you would go, the girth of the serpentis shaft pushing against the bones of your hips from the inside.

Slicked thoroughly, the widest arm rolled against the muscle that protected your womb, and even in your lust-drunk state you could feel it pouring its juices into you. The smaller tendrils followed the nectar up into you where no cock could ever reach, teasing at the rim of the protective coil until it started to relax. More pushed past the ring of muscle until you could feel it gaping, holding you open against the large, blunt tip.

The thrusting stopped, and you mewled sinfully around the vine between your teeth, begging it not to, oh fuck please don’t stop! Whatever aphrodisiac you had been pumped full of was screaming for more more more! Your body hungered for more release, as if you hadn’t drenched the surrounding reef underneath you. You flickered an eye open, but the way your back was curved gave you no vantage of the scene below your waist, but you could see the central pod you had so valiantly tried, and failed, to reach.

From a hole in its top grew the amorphophallus that was filling you so deliciously, and you watched in horror as it pulsed something bulbous up its length. The bulge got closer until it disappeared from your line of view, but it wasn’t long before you felt it, something big pushing against your entrance. You cried out against the gag, but you were held steadfast as the rounded thing forced its way inside you.

The width of it knocked against your hip bones until it was past their crest, and you clenched as best you could around the delicious stretch until you felt something you’ve never felt before. You’ve been fingered, you’ve been fucked and loved and filled to capacity, but the weight of something being deposited in your belly was something wonderfully new. The heft of it felt good, filling and wholesome, though the feeling of terror was still trying to permeate your hazy mind, telling you to run, as if you could. Your hands were bound to your sides, but you wanted to rub at your belly and feel what had been put there. The press of another orb teased at your entrance, and you bucked your hips at it, encouraging another fill.

So good! The unknown object settled in your womb next to the first, the size of them pressing against the back of your abdominal wall, any more and you would be showing. A third bulge made itself known, and you seized your coils around it, letting it bring you to release with its stretch. You came around the vines, and the hydra wormed another pod past your cervix, riding with you through your high. A fourth, a fifth, sixth! You forced an eye open, and the swell of your stomach was visible over the curves of your breasts. Fuuuuck, any more and you really might be fit to burst.

Three more times you were gloriously stretched and drained, the exertion of so many orgasms nearly causing you to faint, but you would do so gladly in your heightened state. One more for good measure pulsed into your swollen belly before the vines receded, and the bindings on your arms and legs withered and died. Gloriously spent, you laid on the ground in a pool of nectar and juices, weakly tugging the vine from your mouth so you could gasp for air. With shaking arms you tried to pry yourself free of the dried tendrils, but the nectar that still filled you felt so good that you almost didn’t want to move, lest it drain out.

The first thing you noticed when the effects began to fade was how much the skin on your abdomen hurt, it felt tight, and you weakly brought a hand up to feel it. Maker above! Your belly was full, and you poked at your protruding middle, feeling the pods inside you slosh around in the devious nectar. Warm goo poured out between your legs, making your eyes roll back from the heat. Through your cloudy mind you thought you heard something, something far away that sounded like shouting. The shouts got closer, and you could almost swear it sounded like your name. Maybe it was.

“Tra’laar!” That was definitely your name, though it sounded distant and fuzzy. You tried to call out to the voice, only to cough up more of the sweet syrup that lined your throat. The taste of it was still as delicious as it had been from the beginning, and another blaze of heat coasted down your spine and made your guts clench and your belly jiggle. Licking your lips you called again, this time with enough force to actually make noise, and the sound of corals being torn apart as something barreled through the reef towards you made itself known.

“Tra-” Mando skittered to a halt somewhere beside you, the sound of your gifted name snagging in his mouth. There you were on the cavern floor, covered in dead vines and some kind of goo, but the most distressing sight of all was your sudden pregnancy. Cautiously he approached you and started untangling your arms and legs, trying to clear the offending tentacles away. He kneeled beside you, his armored hands hovering over your rounded shape. “Riduur’ika? Wh- what happened to you?!” His voice was shaking, barely a whisper coming through his modulator.

“Heeeyyy~” You purred, still buzzed on the herbal wine that had soaked every nerve in your body. “Babe… I think… um. I think there’s something… i-inside… me?”

“Well I can see that!” There was some kind of tone to his voice, wedged somewhere between anger and fear and maybe just a sprinkle of desire. “What did this to you?!”

“I dunno... that wiggly thingie got all up in my bisnatch.” You rubbed at your eyes, trying to get some clarity while your armored companion stressed himself to a frenzy. Mama-hen Mando’s fretting started to make you giggle, and the jostling of your laughs had your tummy jiggling with its fullness. Above you your oathsworn was horrified, but all you could see was his silly visor and his twitchy hands. “Prob’bly need to do something about it, don’t we?”

“Fucking hell, cyare! Yes we need to get whatever that is out of you!” He sounded really upset now, panicked even, and you shook your head trying to shake the daze. You started to sit up, but the weight of your womb made it a struggle. “Hey take it easy! Here, let me help you.” His protector instincts kicked in, and he was wrapping himself up around you to raise you to a seated position. You couldn’t help the way you rubbed at your tummy, still riding the high of the juice that coated your cunt and thighs and stuck to the back of your throat. I wonder if I can bottle this up and sell it.

A soft leather hand placed itself on your swell, moving over your taut skin with a featherlight touch. “This isn’t right,” you heard him say, “I should be the one filling your belly, not some fucking vegetable!”

Stupid chuckles burst out your mouth and made you snort, “Pfft… babe are you jealous some fruit by the foot knocked your girl up?”

“Damn it all yes I’m jealous! Of course I am, I'm your husband! And why aren’t you more upset? You almost look like you’re enjoying this!” You ignored him to swipe a finger through the goop on your leg and bring it up to your lips, slurping noisily at the colorful syrup.

“It’s this stuff, it’s tasty! You should try it!” The snap of his visor told you he wasn’t going to indulge you, but his gentle touch was pressing carefully under the drop of your belly, and you could see him watching the way it wiggled. “Bah, you like this don’t you? Don’t lie to me, bucketboy.”

“No!... Well… maybe a little.” He shook his head, trying not to be disoriented by the same daze you were. “We’re getting this out of you right now! Can you sit up? Get on your knees?” He guided you up off your butt and onto your haunches, the weight of your middle lurching forward from the motion, swaying under you. “Stars above, mesh’la, I-I don’t know how to f-feel about this…” He trailed off, torn between seeing you swollen full and knowing damn well whatever it was could probably kill you. “You’re beautiful…”

“Ha, I knew you liked this, now c’mon and get this fucker out of me, yeah?” How the actual fuck were you supposed to do that? Your partner pulled his gloves off and went for the obvious route, sliding his long, calloused fingers up inside your sopping cunt with a curse. Three of his devious digits went up without a hitch in your overstretched state, teasing around to get a feel of you.

“I didn’t know you stretched this wide, cyare, does… does this feel good?”

You shot him a sideways glare, letting your lips turn up in a mischievous sneer. “Ye-yeah, feels amazing.” the ambrosia was still making you sex crazed, and even with your legs covered in your own arousal you could tell there was still more to give. “Din..?”

“I’m right here, buir’ika, I’ve got you.” He scootched back behind you, wrapping one arm in between your breasts and your belly to hold you in place while he hunted through your slick folds. Din had become an expert at finding that naughty patch of nerves behind your clit that had your muscles tightening around his strong hands in seconds, and you let him work your ecstasy right back up. “That’s it, mesh’la, fucking stars I can feel you, you’re close! Come for me, that’s it, that’s a good girl.”

He pressed his helmeted head against your own, burying the sharp edge of the beskar in the meat of your shoulder while you tightened around him. His other arm pressed down on your swell, and the force of your orgasm squeezed something out of your belly and through your channel, rubbing deliciously against your walls as it passed into his waiting hand.

The seed pod that practically popped out of you was a dark purple egg-shaped thing with swirls of green and blue, matching the description of the bounty puck to a tee. Mando brought the thing around for you to see, rubbing at your side encouragingly. It shimmered in the eerie light of the cavern only briefly before it withered in his hand and flaked away on the volcanic breeze. Gone.

“Um, Mando…” You whispered, feeling a weird mix of arousal and fear ooze down your thoat with the unicorn slime, “I think if we’re gonna get them back to the ship, I think they have to, um, fuck... stay…

“Absolutely not! What if they poison you? What if they break open or s-something and kill you?”

“But the bounty-”

“Fuck the bounty!” He roared, “Fuck everything! I can’t lose you, cyare! I… I won’t, especially for a handful of credits.” The desperation that clawed at his voice stung your heart, but you were determined not to fail in your mission, no matter how creepy it was.

“Din,” you hummed, trying to calm him down, “I’m ok, really! Maybe a little mess- Oh~!” The Mandalorian’s fingers slid right back up your weeping cunt, fucking into you mercilously. His rough fingers slid easily through the slick, and he made up for the lack of friction with sheer determination. “Ah! Ah Din! Din yes! Oh yes!!!” High as a kite you went, coming all over his persistent thrusts. His grip tightened on your middle, and another pod escaped your womb.

“I told you to stop trying to fight me.” Oh fuck he’s using that voice! Dark and husky right in your ear, searing electricity over your flesh and blowing up your ovaries. The voice of a hunter, the voice of an alpha, whether he knew it or not. The timbre of it vibrated so low and strong you couldn’t help but whine against the beskar pressed to your face. “You’re going to stop arguing and you’re going to be a good girl and let me fuck you empty so I can fill you right back up. You’re mine, MY riduur, and the only thing that should be inside you is me!” His command flooded with raw power, and you blasted out another pod or two at his words alone.

You were gone, soaked to the core with desire until all you could do was moan into the armor that held you steady. Bonelessly you gave him everything you had, drenching his arms and knees with your holographic slick. Determined as ever, your armored protector pumped into you, cupping your whole pussy in his palm while he stuffed you with his fingers. When you’d rocketed the fifth seed out, you nearly fainted in his arms, drained of all your energy. Your mind was fuzzy, but you could almost pick up the sound of a question making its way over the roaring blood in your ears. “Huh?”

“How many more?” You shook your head, and a furious growl reverberated against your skull. His soaked hand slid out of you and shook itself somewhere nearby, sending melted rainbow goo flying. When the arm coiled around your belly left you, you nearly toppled, but he caught you swiftly. “Drink.” Metal was pressed to your lips, and the broth you had abandoned earlier graced your syrup-coated throat. You’d never been so thirsty, chugging it down until you were coughing, and the hand that held you reached up to cup your jaw, imploring you to swallow.

When the thermos left your lips, you leaned back against your heavily armored partner, letting his beskar hold you up. You were tired of the appetizer that was his fingers, and your swollen belly hungered for the real deal. You needed him. “Dindin… please… please I want your cock!” The body behind you couldn’t go any stiffer, and you felt his clothed erection rub against the curve of your ass. “I know you’re hard, fuck me, please?”

“Not til you’ve done as you're told.” His rasping voice was edged with heavy breaths, whether from the effort of claiming your clutch or trying not to cum in his pants you couldn’t be sure, but it sounded fucking hot as hell either way. Plated arms wrapped around you again, and you were pulled backwards into his lap with your knees thrown over his legs. He prodded your belly, trying to get a count of how many more orgasms he was going to give you. “Four… maybe five…”

Din went for your clit, spinning tight, vicious circles around the engorged nub and making you scream. “D-D-Din!!! Oh yeees! F-fuck me! Please p-please I-I want you in me!” He only hummed against you, rubbing his groin up against your ass to tease you while you came again. He stuffed an ungloved hand up your shirt to find your breasts, tugging and pinching at the sensitive buds until he could feel you shaking in his grasp and pleading for his thick, girthy cock to plow into you and scramble your guts even more than they already were.

For you he was taking charge of the situation, being the anchor you needed to get through this, but behind his faceless armor he was trying not to lose his goddamn mind at the sight of you. Where you sat on him he could grind himself against your soft thighs, and even through the layers of duraweave he could easily imagine himself sliding his length through your slick heat, drenching himself in your cum. Filling that belly. “Come for me again, cyar’ika.” He had to distract himself from his perverted thoughts, though that was becoming an impossible chore. Here you were in his arms, looking like some kind of glowing goddess with your womb as heavy as it was, and he cursed the Universe for giving him exactly what he’d wished for.

Damnation flowed through his modulator at the sound of your begging. “Is that right, cyare? You want me to stuff my cock in this soaked pussy of yours? You’re gonna have to earn it.” He was conflicted about talking to you in such a way, but something about the way he was speaking to you made your muscles clench around his fingers while you moaned against his armor. “You like it when I f-fuck you like this? I know you love these hands, cyar’ika, but if you want me to give you my cock you’re gonna have to come! Come so I can fuck that beatiful belly of yours full!”

Maybe he was talking to himself more than you, but you whined in his arms nonetheless as your walls squeezed and flooded. Another hot wave of slick coated his wrist, and he tossed the seedpod away, diving right back in for the next. His strong palm kneaded at your tummy, taking another count, two, maybe three more. He knew he should still be worried, terrified even, but damn it if he wasn’t harder than beskar. His cock was straining against the inside of his pant leg, desperate to grant his own desires.

“D-Din… w-wait…” He almost didn’t hear you, the thunder of his heartbeat roaring as loud as it was in his helmet, but your wobby arm came back around and patted his leg. “Th-thermos…” The canister was at your lips in a heartbeat, but you pushed it away. “C… Catch…”

Oh! The broth was poured out into the massive puddle under you, whatever, might as well add soup to the mix. He prodded your guts once more, palpating the hard lumps that still sat inside you, two left? “Cyare, that’s it, almost done. Come on, come all over my fucking fingers so I can b-bury my cock in you where it belongs!” You cried into the armor, heat searing from where he was pressed against you to your fluttering muscles to bare down on his fingers with your impending final climax. Dark, sultry praises rasped out of his modulator, so close to your ear you could feel the heat of his breath. “That’s it, ner riduur, one more and you can have my cock. One more and I'll stuff you with my own seed. You want that? Come for me so I can fill you up and breed you like I know you want me to!”

You nodded against him, making some kind of affirmation noise, but the last pod would be the toughest to pull, and he need to make you cum your fucking brains out if he was going to get it. He stopped his thrusts to tease at your stretched walls, rubbing his calloused fingertips against your slicked core. “What was that, riddur’ika? I can’t hear you.”

“Y-yes Din, please…” You were breathless, your words dryer than a desert as they scratched their way past your chapped lips. He laughed darkly against you, reminding you that you should probably stop teaching him new tricks.

“Yes what?”

“Breed me! Din please you big fucking jerk pump me full! I wanna be full of you!”

The cold metal of the thermos was pressed to your folds, making you cry out from the sting of it, but a hot fingertip groped at your clit, spinning one last mindblowing orgasm out of you that nearly rendered you unconscious. The metallic plonk that came from between your legs told you the pod had been captured, hopefully with enough of the nectar to keep it from drying out. Hunting is stupid. Din’s dry hand dug into the flesh of your stomach, searching for any more of the bullshit you had been filled with.

“There. Are you ok, cyar’ika?” Something like a nod wobbled your head, though the darkness coming in around the edges of your eyes told you that might be a lie. “You did so well! It’s all over now, let’s get you back up to the- cyar’ika stay with me!” Limply you laid against him, ignoring his exhausted pleas to slump against the rock hard tent pushing against your ass, trying to get him to make good on his word. You’d never been so spent in your life, as if you’d squirted out your very soul. Blinking your eyes open, you hazily saw the tilted visor of your oathsworn and shot him a lecherous grin.

“You gonna fuck me now like you said you would?”

Mando was rarely as grateful for his armor as he was right now, the cold, emotionless beskar hiding his sweat soaked face and lust-drunk eyes. The way you were watching his visor made him think you could hear the cogwheels in his head spinning out of control. Yes, yes a thousand times yes! Beautiful creature of the stars, more wondrous than any constellation. Her cunt is so perfect, so warm and wet and beautiful and literally gushing with her arousal, just begging for me to fill it. To fill her, Her womb is open, ready and waiting for my seed to be planted, a fertile haven for my younglings. They’ll be so strong, born with daggers in their teeth and songs in their hearts. I want to see her filled. I need to!

“No.” His reply barked dryly through his modulator, chewing on the sound of his denial. “We need to get out of here right now in case that fucking thing decides it wants to go for round two.” The arms that held you together wrapped around your back and under your knees, lifting you gently away from the mess. Weakly you held onto his neck, barely aware of the reef as it passed you by. Staring up at him through tired, tear-washed lashes you were filled with warmth, though not the heat you had felt from the hydra’s nectar. Better than that. Still, though the pleasant sensation was thrumming in your heart and your cunt, you were a bit peeved that he wasn’t going to give you what you’d begged for.

“You suck”

“I know.” The back of his mind roared with desire from hearing you literally beg for him to fuck you full, making his cock throb painfully against his duraweave. Keep it together, Djarin. Stars above he didn’t want to, he wanted to make good on the filthy promises he had poured over you, but there was no telling what else was lurking in the reef. He had to get you to safety, get you to the ship, and maybe then he could indulge himself. Mark you as his territory from the inside. Shaky fingers dug up under the edge of his helmet, and the feel of your skin against his face made him halt. “What is it, ner cyare’se?”

“You’re… you’re a good man. And a good dad.” The Mandalorian froze solid at that one, cocking his visor at you sharply. A new pull made itself known in his chest, something tugging on his heartstrings. Your eyes were closed, having long since given up the ghost as you started to fade away, and it took massive effort for you to drag them back open to see him. “Even if you do fucking suck s’metimes. You take good care’a me, ‘n Beans too, we’re v’ry lucky to have you.” Your words slurred, and you tried to lick your lips to get them to cooperate, but only found more of the ambrosia stuck to your face. You wouldn’t be cognizant much longer. “Thank you, Din.”

His name being spoken by you was more addictive than any spice, and paired with the praise you were whispering against his metal he nearly melted right down to the ground with you. That was all he ever wanted to be. A good man, a good husband, a good buir. Honeyglow flooded his bones, soft and warm and gentle, the polar opposite of the beskar he was covered in. He felt you curl a lock of his hair around in your fingers, the gentle tug on his scalp making him rumble. The life of a hunter was fucked up, to be sure, but as long as he had you and his son, it was bearable.

You kissed at the chest plate you were pressed to, the one that hid the embodiment of your vows safely next to his heart. He pressed his helmet to your brow, and the way you hummed against him in his arms made him want to run back to the Crest where you could have some privacy and peel his armor away, give you what you had so desperately begged him for. Maybe it was the way you were laying so limply against his cuirass, but you seemed so small to him in that moment, like without him wrapped around your body you would dissipate on the volcanic breeze like the pods had. Protect her.

“You’re… welcome.”

Your fucked-out face nuzzled against him, and he couldn’t help but hug you even tighter, making the scent of you coast up under the edge of his armor. It was different, fragrant and succulent though it was probably the juice that still clung to your legs and face. The scent of you was still there, just enhanced by the aroma, made stronger. He took a deep breath of you before continuing through the reef, almost tripping over a low coral when he wavered. Wavered? Why am I wavering?

The sound of a deep, indulgent inhale caught your ears, and you flickered an eye open to see him burrowing the front of his helmet in the fabric covering your breasts. Against you his chest ballooned fully, holding the scent of you in his lungs until it stuttered through his modulator with a curse. You giggled weakly, “Smells good, don’t it?” A low grumble made the plates against you vibrate, telling you the siren scent of the anemone was seeping into his brain. “If you think it smells good you should see how good it tastes! Try some n’ then get’cher self some sloppy seconds, I know you wanna~”

“No! The last thing we need is for me to get caught up in whatever the hell pumped you full of… quarries.” The imagery of that made you chuckle, silly, stupid laughs that bounced off his armor. He was practically jogging now, though you could feel him stumble through the stoney gravel every once in a while as the perfume of the anemone grove started to sink into his synapses. “We’re almost out of here, just a little further…”

“Bah, alright party pooper. I’ll getcha when we get back aboard.”

“Sure, let’s go with that.”

You curled against him, feeling his arms go somehow even tighter. The living fortress that was your Mandalorian carried you with declining ease through the reef, and you could tell from the engine purring away under his armor that he was not nearly as composed as he sounded. One more poke, for good measure. “I love you, Din.”

“And I you, cyare.” His response came out a little cold, but only because he was desperately trying not to melt away into the same puddle of goo you had been turned into. Again you whispered his name, gliding through his ears like a song, and his heart ached to kiss you, to taste the flesh that hugged his Creed-sworn secret so well. He hadn’t heard it in so long before you came, and though his old alor knew it, it was forbidden, meaningless. But coming from you it was powerful, strong enough to bring him to his knees if they weren’t so busy wading through hell and highwater.

Vaguely you were aware of your egress, though most of it flickered in and out of your lust-lost mind. The warmth of the cavern fell away to be replaced with the cold, rushing air of the tunnel as you rocketed back up to the basin. Maybe you were dreaming of the sound of boots crunching through snow, or the soft gibbering of the founding, you couldn’t be sure, but it was pleasant nonetheless. You heard words being spoken from time to time as well, all of them muddied and faint. Maybe they were Basic, maybe Mando’a, but all of them sounded like they cared. Like every syllable and intonation humming through the iron on your cheek was spoken for you alone.

Your Mandalorian carried you diligently back to your broken chariot, trying his best to make small talk with the foundling as he floated along behind. The child seemed worried at the state of his adopted parents, And Din rattled off every reassurance that he could think of, but his legs were starting to weaken from the scent of the nectar so close to his helmet. He marched on through the glacial basin almost on autopilot until the Razor came into view. Warm air sent flurries of snow around him and his crew as the ramp fell open, and blearily he made his way inside.

He had to do something about the state of the two of you, but his knees locked and froze him to the spot, demanding he take a moment to breathe. There it was again, the fruity, summery scent of you that made his dick throb. Damn it all. Shaky steps hauled him through the cabin, and he laid you down on the little cot you both shared. He needed to get your soaked clothes off, but in order to do that he would have to get out of his own armor first. He shrugged off the helmet, though the metal had been protecting him from the temptation of you more than he realized, and the heat that gooped its way through his body from the pungency of your scent nearly threw him to the floor.

Din punched the buttons on his vambrace, closing up the foundling for the night whether he was ready for bed or not. Sorry kid. He peeled his armor away, setting the beskar aside and tossing the soaked fabric into the fresher. Next came your own clothes, and at first he worried he might wake you. Stars knew you needed the rest, but you made no indication that you even knew he was there.

Your limbs flopped like jelly while he tore off your clothes to be chucked into the fresher along with his until you were beautifully naked. Spread like a feast before him on the narrow bed, he couldn’t help but lick his lips. Little shimmers here and there told him that you were still coated in the hydra’s goo, and his first thought was to grab a washcloth to clean you up, but you stretched your lovely arms and made the splashes of color dance like melted candy on your skin, making his mouth water at the sight and giving him a much better idea. Maybe just… just a taste.

~

The faint whirring of the Crests innards caught your attention, and you came back to consciousness with agonizing slowness. You were laying on your bedroll, tucked safely away in the durasteel depths of your ship, though you weren’t sure if it was dark or if you still had your eyes closed. Warm fog settled in your head and wafted through your bones, a mindless comfort that left you blissfully numb. It could have been whatever the hydra had left in you, or more likely, it was whatever activity was going on below your waist. Your breath hitched in your throat, surprising you, but not as surprising as the stars that flashed behind your eyes. “Ah~!”

From between your legs a lusty groan shot right up your cunt and made you fist your hands in the plush fabric underneath you while you came. How is there anything left!? A broad tongue lapped at your clit, slurping away at the remnants of the nectar that coated your folds. The smooth muscle dragged itself through your slit, drinking in everything you were giving before sliding right back to that sensitive little bud to tease circles around it.

“Mesh’la.. I’m.. I’m sorry, I c-couldn’t help it, you taste so good~” The Mandalorian’s baritone rocked you to your core, and another flick of his tongue had you coming all over his face again. “P-please… forgive me.”

“F-f-forgive? Bahh… I told ya it was good, now get lickin’, bucket boy.” You tangled a hand in his curls, pushing him back down to enjoy his just desserts. His tongue fucked into you with reckless abandon, hungry and desperate for the taste of you. He dug his arms under your thighs and forced your mound as tightly up against his face as he could, and you heard him gasp for air between gulps. Exhaustion and pleasure tugged your eyes back closed, and you teetered in and out of consciousness, being brought back to the realm of the living with each fresh wave of ecstasy. Something rhythmic moved against your leg, the muscles in his shoulder thrumming away at something well out of sight. Is he jerking off?

In his hand he was going to town on his aching shaft, using the glittering goo that still flowed readily from your gloriously wet pussy to coat himself in. The coral’s effect had been burrowing into his brain stem from the moment he could smell it, calling to him like some kind of siren; but finally getting to taste it was an otherworldly experience. You had been through enough for one hunt, and though he craved release like a sex crazed animal he would happily content himself with just getting a taste of the ambrosial sweetness while you relaxed.

It hadn’t taken him long to coax the rainbow juices from your stretched folds, and even less time to slick himself with it. For a brief moment he thought he would just lap enough from your wellspring to get himself off, but soon he found himself unable to tear his face away from your delicious cunt, slurping away at the honeyed slick until he was nearly drowning in it. He dragged the colorful fluid around the tip of his cock, almost creaming himself right then and there with the warm tingly sensation that dribbled down his length.

Stars above you were juicy, wet and engorged against his frenzied tongue, though the rest of your body was boneless against him. He didn’t mind holding your legs up on his shoulders while he lovingly cleaned the nectar from the core of your body, in fact he was delighted to be of service. Lost in his indulgences he almost didn’t feel you tug on his hair, bringing his eyes up to meet your own.

“You… you can… in me… please... “ Nothing remained of your shattered mind, but you almost felt bad that he was trying to take care of himself when you were right there, ready and waiting. He shook his head against your leaking slit, dragging himself up for air to answer you, making the hazy emergency lights of the cabin sparkle in the wetness that covered his mouth and chin.

“I shouldn’t, you need to… to rest… ”

“Should’a thought about that before you started tonguin' me. Now get up here and fuck me like you said you would!”

You were starting to wonder if he liked being bossed around, because he growled against your core and yanked you back towards him, burying himself balls deep in one swift thrust. His wet mouth crashed against your own, giving you a taste of your own medicine. Fuck he wasn’t kidding, that’s delcious! He thrust into you with ragged strokes, messy and out of time. Muscular arms wrapped around your body, flooding your senses with the combined scent of him and the intoxicating perfume of the sunken grove.

Din hugged you close to his sweaty chest, digging fingers into the back of your head and the swell of your ass so he could rocket into your wonderous coils, punching the blunt tip of his cock against your tired cervix. His kisses were frantic but messy, all tongue and teeth and heated breaths as if you could do any better. You were almost surprised that you could feel him as stretched out as you were, but the spear of a Mandalorian was nothing to be scoffed at. The girthy thing rutted against your walls, bottoming out with every desperate thrust.

“Not… gonna… last… much... “ He choked on his own words, making a half dozen more ragged thrusts before blasting you full of his cum, painting your walls with his seed. The ring of muscle fluttered against his weeping tip, almost like a tongue that was greedily sucking his cum into your depths. That’s the only seeds she should be filled with, he thought blearily, my seed. His hips twitched against you, giving a few more staggered thrusts to milk himself to completion in your forgiving heat.

Din was panting, driven nearly to exhaustion by the effort of making good on his promises to fuck you senseless. Under him your own breath was stuttered, your chest crushed by his weight. He coiled his arms around you and rolled you both sideways, using the last of his strength to tuck you up under his arm and lay your head on his chest. You murmured something fondly against him as he lazily threaded his fingers through your hair, brushing it out of your face as best he could, but the soft breathing against his skin told him you probably didn’t notice. Soft kisses danced over your face, more for his enjoyment than your own, a fact made apparent by the cutest little snore in his ears. Sleep well, my love. And thank you. For everything.

He could lay there forever, with the weight of you on his chest and the hot slick sliding down his thighs, if he died right then and there he would die a very happy man. His fingers tried valiantly to run themselves down the curve of your spine, but there was no energy left in his body to power them, and he let them rest in the dip of your hips. Your breaths came slowly, a gentle rise and fall that heated his skin where you were pressed tightly against the crook of his neck. Din kissed your forehead again before tangling his limbs around you and burying his nose in your hair. Tomorrow we can get the exterior fixed, the inside is warm enough for now.

A gentle smile tugged at the edges of his lips, making his whiskers catch your hair. And maybe if it’s too cold for the foundling, she’ll keep him in her shirt again. Din couldn’t help but hum at the thought, you all cute and round, even if it was only temporary. By marriage you were a buir to his foundling, as truly as you would be if you had sworn the Creed, but the thought of you carrying his own flesh-and-blood ad’ika was the guiltiest pleasure he could imagine. Now that he knew what you would look like all full and heavy he could more easily indulge those devious thoughts. It was probably wrong to recall the image of you laying on that vibrant nest of tentacles, glowing and radiant and full. And in need. Needing me to care for her.

He wouldn’t admit it, and he knew you were tough enough to take care of yourself as long as you didn’t go sliding down any mysterious chasms, but he loved being needed by you. He loved that the name you had screamed for in that sunken grove was his, that you needed him to rescue you, needed him to pull the pods from your belly. Needed him to breed you. He could hear you in his mind again, you desperately begging him to fill your womb with his warriors, but you had only done so while drunk on the hydra’s wine. Was there any truth to it? Probably not, he’d practically demanded that you beg for it.

But what if there was?

Tired fingers pulled you impossibly closer to him, as if to invite you to sleep in his ribcage, curled up next to his heart. You grumbled in your sleep, murmuring something about tater tots before letting loose a beastly snore. The Mandalorian rolled his eyes, that’s her, that’s my mesh’la, my cyare, my riduur.

And maybe, when the time is right, when the bounties have been collected and the universe doesn’t seem so hostile. Maybe when we find another convert, or even just start one of our own. Someday, maybe...

Maybe I can call her my buir’ika as well.

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#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #self insert #bargaining with beskar

[lunasblipsandblurbs]

can u do something with the boys if they’re S/o hasn’t eaten for awhile and they notice 🤧 i haven’t eaten anything in 2 days and i feel kinda doodoo about it :/. Please and thankyou🥺

A/N: hi hi pal! I'm so sorry to hear you've been struggling lately, you just take it easy and try and munch on some favorite food/snacks and drink plenty of water if you can love 💖

TRIGGER WARNING: DISORDERED EATING PATTERNS

When he notices you won't eat w/ the Pedro boys

Din Djarin

Din himself doesn't really keep a strict meal plan or schedule himself. So when he sees the first day you not really eating he shrugs it off assuming you've already eaten or are just super busy like he gets. The second day is when he puzzles things together. So he decides to kind of plan his approach. He chooses to talk to you where you and he can be the most vulnerable. Under complete darkness nestled into the bunk smashed all against eachother. He holds you close while murmuring against your cheek "Riduur....I've noticed, please know I'm here. Taking our vows means I will protect you in the physical world and here". He says while gently tapping your forehead. He doesn't speak a whole lot but what he does say is always what you need to hear.

Javier Pena

Javi is going to confront you on this right when he first notices. When hes sitting down with his dinner and notices you aren't eating yourself he asks whats the deal? You try and brush him off explaining you weren't hungry. "Bullshit honey, what did you eat today? And when?" When you list you lackluster amount of food you've eaten in the past days he instantly recognizes this as a possible sign. He sits in contemplation on how to persuade you to eat but not in a pandering way. Javier stands up quickly and goes back towards the small kitchen. Before you can even ask Javi's already back and cutting his main course in half. "Can you help me eat this honey? Need to watch my cholesterol anyway, getting old." He winks at you as you pick up one of his utensils.

Frankie Morales

When Frankie first notices your gonna be also there seeing him slowly peice together the fact that ypu haven't been eating. "Love, you know you can come to me for anything right?" You nod totally ready for the long winded speech you have heard in the past. Instead he goes "okay good because I feel the same way" and just drops it. Well drops it in your mind, in Frankies he's in his mind building a plan on how to persuade you to get back in the habit of eating. He later on comes back home from grocery shopping with ingredients to make the food you both had on your first date. It was a stay in at home first date because the both of you didn't get paid until next week and you two were both too giddy to wait. He starts cooking with you sitting on the counter helping here and there. By the time dinners done both plates have comfortable portions on them and you two are eating with your ankles locked around eachothers.

Ezra

Oh my dear, Ezra knows this. He knows this feeling so well, the empty static that seems to fill your gut to the point of no appetite. And he consoles with you on those stories of him not eating for days on end after he lost his limb. He gets it he truly does but for the love of himself and you he NEEDS you to try something. All you two have are bits bars and those are already hard to stomach half the time. While researching local plant life Ezra came across a flower that produced fruit that resembles apples but tastes like the equivalent to strawberries and it's completely safe for humans to ingest. He looks back to you napping in the pod and scrawls out a messy note. "Went for walk, rest as much as you like my melancholic Venus." By the time you awaken and read the note the pods opening to reveal Ezra with a small bag full of red fruits. "Catch Ve, these are the most delicious thing I've eaten in over a month. Well besides your devine core of course." He manages to wheeze out nervously as he tosses a fruit at you. The color, so vibrant was tempting enough you just had to take a bite. And holy fuck is this your new favorite food?

Max Phillips

Max is gonna be a little bit lost at first on how to approach this. He's dealed with anxieties due to turning into a vampire but he's never not eaten. Hell he even will stop and get tacobell still sometimes just to taste the flavors. He's gonna find out when he asks to feed off you only for you to almost pass out right away due to lack of food. And ouch he's gonna look like a kicked puppy when he finds out your neglecting yourself. "Sweetheart please if there's anything I can help with?" He will sit down with you and start to line out a plan. What you both will be eating together (he already felt bad leaving you to eat by yourself before) he even offers to look into therapy for you if thats something you are interested in. "I know we joke that I like to regress into a stupid Frat dork but I'm here for you okay? No matter the time or day. You know I don't ~do~ sleep anyway."

Pero Tovar

Pero will notice from the beginning you start to slow on eating. You make him every meal so of course he's going to notice if you keep repeating you "aren't really that hungry yet, love." He's gonna try his best to keep his temper in check when he talks to you about the lack of eating. You try to persuade him to forget about it and open up the door for sex like how usually your arguments go but Pero shakes his head frusterated to the point for tears to pool in his waterline. "Amor, if you are....hurting you tell me, okay?" Even if it is hard to explain or you think it is something small please, Amor tell me." Shaken to the core by his display of emotions over your well being you end up sitting together in silence. You on his lap slowly sharing the stew you made for him tonight. It's a small start but its a start and thats all that matters.

#pedro pascal #pedro characters #din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandolorian x reader #the mandalorian #narcos imagine #narcos x reader #narcos #francisco morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #ezra (prospect) x reader #ezra (prospect) #ezra prospect #ezra prospect x reader #max phillips x reader #max phillips #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar #disordered eating tw

[hai-nakyuu]

kuroo the science b!tch (filipino!kuroo research defense AU)

a/n: bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch kuroo the science ✨ bitch✨ anyway third entry to @lumpiang-toge​’s event starring kuroo and kenmwah

“guys, final na this ha. oh, kenma, make sure na wala nang technical difficulties. yung HDMI cord ako na bahala dun, naghiram nako sa english department. james, yung ensaimada parating na ba? oh buti naman kailangang kailangan yung para di gutomin panelists habang turn natin. yannie, yung sa part mo dagdag mo pala yung argument natin na may antibacterial properties yung materials natin kaya sya mas effective-”

“ang kapal ng mukha mo, kuroo, alam mo yun?”

kuroo nervously laughs at your voice. “hala, sorry na Y/N”

“sino ba leader satin ha? ikaw ba?”

you raise an eyebrow and he shrugs, pointing to you, and you swear on your life that you hear kenma trying to hide his laughter.

“joke lang naman, guys, lighten up!” you clap your hands. “we can do this! good luck satin mamayang 1pm! lunch muna kayo guys, di kayo makakasagot sa panelists pag gutom kayo”

as james and yannie head to the cafeteria, kenma goes to the library to buy load. which leaves you and kuroo together in the hall.

“soooooo,” he trails off. “sabayan na kitang kumain?”

you turn away. “kaya kong kumain mag-isa, thanks.”

“ay,” he pouts, “taray. come on, just once!”

“why?” you ask. “aren’t your friends, like, waiting for you? asan si kenma?”

“he’s buying load, tas sa caf na din daw sya kakain,” he shrugs. “just wanna get to know you more.”

you think about it for a second, then nod. “ok, well, uhh, how do you wanna get to know me more?”

“i don’t really know, um... anong section mo last year?”

“polonium,” you take out your tupperware and open it, and fumble for the spoon and fork in your backpack. “ikaw?”

“yttrium. i got lost and pumasok ako sa classroom ng carbon,” he takes out his asado siopao and unwraps it. “favorite subject?”

“esp. you?”

“science. single ka?”

“wow, nobody likes sci- ano single ba ko?”

“mhm,” he nods, swallowing the food in his mouth before he continues.

“are you seeing anybody? may boyfriend ka na ba? or girlfriend?”

“uhh, single. why?”

“kasi, when we, uh, first became groupmates sa research,” he stutters. “i hated you,” the words rush out of him in a whisper.

“sorry, you what?”

“hated you.”

he waves his hands around just as you’re about to speak.

“but that was then, that was then! i don’t hate you now! i just-” he inhales, “-didn’t like you back then because it kinda seemed to me na parang you didn’t really want to do this investigatory project. but i understood why, because not everyone’s a science bitch like me.”

“a ‘science bitch’?” you giggle, and he rubs the back of his neck nervously.

“yeah, kenma calls me that. anyway, i realized i was wrong kasi even if you didn’t really like it, i saw na masipag ka pala talaga. yung bumili tayo ng materials sa ace hardware you got everything to the exact details. and oh! that time na aksidenteng nasunog ni james yung pancit canton nung nagstay tayo sa bahay ni kenma,” the two of you burst out laughing at this, “you didn’t go home until you cleaned up everything. that was the time i realized na... gusto kita,” he looks back at you sincerely.

“and... also the time i realized i made horrible first impressions about people”

you laugh even harder, and kuroo smiles even wider at the sound of your voice.

“and, after this defense, di na tayo magkikita as usual, kasi patapos na school year, and we’ll probably be in different sections next year. so, yeah, gusto ko lang sabihin sayo na thanks for everything, and you’re a great S.I.P. leader. and... a great girl.”

you smile.

“kuroo, that’s so sweet. pero...”

a million responses flash through kuroo’s head. pero may jowa nako. pero you’re not my type. pero i like girls eh. pero strict parents ko. pero-

“pero studies first ako eh.”

he nods. “i understand,” he mumbles.

“studies first. tapusin na muna natin tong defense, then we can go somewhere after.”

“okay- wait? what?” kuroo’s eyes flicker back up to yours in a startle. “what? ha? ano? huh?”

“kuroo, i was just kidding,” you giggle, taking his face between your hands, smushing his cheeks together. “how could i say no?”

“eh, malay ko ba!” he exclaims, red in the face as you laugh and hug him.

“i’ve liked you too for the longest time too, kuroo,” you confess. “how could i not? sobrang helpful mo sa mga paperworks natin, and lagi kang masigla!”

“masigla? ano ako bonakid?”

you glare at him, and you push him away. “alam mo wag nalang pala. bye bye kuroo! kaw na bahala sa defense natin!”

“HALA I WAS JUST JOKING Y/N~”

“BAHALA KA SA BUHAY MO KUPAL KA~”

#🇵🇭 — piliin mo ako #kuroo fluff #pinoy haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu scenarios #haikyū!! #haikyuu fluff #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo x filipino!reader #filikuroo

[supermarvelgirl15]

Small Gestures

Summary: It's always the smallest gestures that speak the loudest; the best gifts come from the heart.

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) × f!reader

Word Count: 1,920

Warnings: Minor spoilers for season 2, slight angst during one part

A/N: What? Me posting another fic? I know, I know, I'm surprised too. I'm just currently obsessed with Din Djarin. Also, there's a part where it's in Din's pov and it is not that good, I'm still trying to get the hang of writing him. Anyways, enjoy! And check out Is There a Problem Here? if you haven't already!

Main Masterlist

××××××

    At first, it was just small gestures. Making sure the other had eaten or had rested plenty. Helping cleaning their weapons or keeping up with the state of the Razor Crest. Even making sure that the Bacta spray or patch was being used correctly.

    It was those small gestures that knitted the strong partnership between Y/N and the Mandalorian. Their relationship was based on trust and taking care of each other. Together they took care of the Child until they were able to return him to the Jedi. Until then, they were deemed his parents and he was their foundling.

    They worked extremely well together in both battle and everyday tasks. If Din needed a tool to fix the wiring in the Razor Crest, Y/N would give it to him without him even asking. If Y/N needed cover as she ran to help the townspeople, they would just exchange a look and Din would do his job to protect her.

    Greef had once commented on how they were the most in sync duo he had ever met. He's sworn he has never heard the pair mutter a word to each other while they were working, that it was like they knew exactly what they were doing. The Mandalorian and Y/N just shook it off, claiming it was because they had worked together for a few years now.

    One time, after seeing how Y/N had brought up a cup of soup to the cockpit for Din to eat, claiming that he hadn't eaten all day, and how he didn't even argue, Cara realized how those small gestures were bigger than they appeared to be. She herself hadn't even realized that he hadn't eaten, and she was the one who was in the cockpit with him the entire time while Y/N was down in the hangar watching the Child.

    Later on she watched how Mando placed a blanket over Y/N after she had fallen asleep with the Child in her arms in the cot. The heating had given out once again, so it was quite cold in the Crest. Cara didn't dare mutter a word as she observed how he watched her, as if to make sure she was still breathing. It was then she knew that it was a mutual thing.

                                                         ∞∞∞

    When Y/N saw Din get swallowed by the krayt dragon, her heart dropped. He had told her to take care of the Child and ordered Cobb Vanth to get them both to safety. She didn't dare breathe as she hoped that his Beskar was enough to protect him.

    As the krayt dragon breached out of the sand and the Mandalorian had flown out of it just before it blew up, Y/N could've sobbed. She had never been so scared in her life and it wasn't even for her own sake. She would have rather go up against the army of Stormtroopers again than to go through that.

    Y/N made her way towards him, the Child in his pod following right behind her. Din watched as they approached, meeting her halfway.

    “Sorry, I didn't have time to explain,” he starts but is stopped when Y/N's hands come to grab either side of his helmet, pulling him closer to her. Her eyes scan over his body, ignoring the goop that he was covered in.

    “Don't ever, ever do that again,” she says sternly.

    Din and her stay like that, just staring at each other, the Child looking up at the both of them. They didn't break away until Cobb called them.

    When they had gotten back to the Razor Crest, Y/N went to venture the street vendors as Din talked to Peli Motto about transporting a traveler. She came across a vendor that was selling necklaces with black obsidian.

    She remembered being told that black obsidian was used for healing and protection. Din immediately came to mind, along with the feeling that she felt when she thought she wasn't going to see him again. Y/N knew it was just some stone, but that didn't stop her from telling the vendor that she would take one.

    Later, the passenger that they agreed to transport was asleep in the cockpit while both Din and Y/N took a break in the hangar, mostly to make sure the Child didn't eat any more of the lady's eggs.

    The Mandalorian was leaned up against the side of the wall, his head tilted back against it. Y/N wasn't sure if he fell asleep or if he was just relaxing for once. She held the necklace in her hand, rubbing her finger against the smooth surface.

    “What's that?” Din grumbled, sitting up straight as he looked at Y/N. She looked down at the object in her hand, becoming slightly nervous for a reason she wasn't used to.

    “Uh, it's black obsidian. It's used for healing and protection,” she answers him, fiddling with it some more before looking up at him. “I, uh, actually got it for you.”

    Din looks at the necklace in her hand for a couple seconds before looking back up at her. “For... Me?” He questions incredulously.

    Y/N nods slowly as she sticks her hand out to him, chewing on her bottom lip. Din reaches out and grabs it, his gloved hand lingering for only a brief second. Once it's in his own hands, he observes it more closely, rubbing his thumb around the hexagonal shape of the obsidian.

    “It's for when I can't be there. It'll protect you. I know it sounds stupid, but... It's a nice thought,” she shrugs before pulling the Child by the robe away from the egg container.

    Din smiles to himself as he watches her. “Thank you... Cyar'ika.”

                                                       ∞∞∞

    “It's like you don't even trust me anymore. It's starting to sound like you just don't want me around!”

    “I don't! I worked better on my own before you came along.”

    Din had been angry. It had just slipped, but those words dripped like venom from his tongue. He regretted saying such a thing to her. He didn't mean a word, but he knew Y/N wouldn't believe him.

    He was just on edge about what Bo-Katan had said about his Creed. Then Y/N had gotten shot during their raid on the Imperial ship, and it was like adding gasoline to a fire.

    All he had said when they left Nevarro was that she should stay behind once they reached Corvus. Y/N, of course, disagreed and that started their argument. He had already made her sit out when they took out the Imperial base, he should've known she wasn't going to sit on the bench again.

    In reality, he was worried and didn't want her to get even more hurt, so his solution was to make her stay in the Razor Crest while he worked the jobs. Din realized that he was asking her to quit her way of life and it made him feel like a hypocrite.

    For the rest of their flight to Corvus, Y/N stayed in the hangar, spending what time she had left with their Child and avoiding Din. He didn't see her again until they had landed.

    Y/N wouldn't look at him except for the occasional glance. A word wasn't said between them when Din checked her Bacta patch or when they made their way to the city.

    When they met Ahsoka Tano, she could feel the mixed emotions going on between the two. Anger. Worry. Sadness. Fear. Grief. Even the Child seemed to feel the tension going on between them.

    The Mandalorian knew he shouldn't had been as relieved as he was when Ahsoka said that she couldn't train Grogu, that he would have to choose his own destiny with the seeing stone, but he was grateful to spend more time with him. He knew Y/N was relieved as well.

    But once they were back in the Razor Crest, the tension between them returned. Din didn't know how he was going to apologise to her, he was sure she wouldn't even listen.

    Din reached into his pocket, pulling out a necklace that he had gotten made when they had visited Nevarro. He had meant to give it to her then, but the argument had occurred between them, so there was never a perfect time.

    He walked by her as she entertained Grogu, stopped in front of her, and dropped the necklace into her hand. Grogu climbed up into her lap, trying to see the shiny trinket. Y/N waited for him to say something, but was met with silence when he went up to the cockpit.

    Y/N looked over the necklace in her hand, flipping it over a couple times. She ran her finger over the letters that were ingrained into the metal bar. Vaii gar slanar, Ni slanar.

    She didn't know what it meant, but she knew that it had to be Mando'a. Din had taught her a few words in his Creed's language, but she didn't recognize these words though.

    Taking a deep breath, she sat Grogu down. The little one looked up at her curiously, tilting his head slightly. She told him to wait there for a few minutes before making her way to the cockpit.

    Y/N eyes widen slightly when she saw Din fiddling with the necklace she had gotten him a while ago, rubbing his thumb over the black obsidian. She didn't know that he held on to it, thinking that he had just put it up somewhere.

    “I didn't know you kept it,” she finally says, coming up to sit beside him. The Mandalorian looks up at her surprised, his eyes slightly wide under his helmet.

    Din looked back down at the stone in his hand. She thought he put it away? Why would he ever do that with something she gifted him? He realizes he probably would've thought the same thing if he was in her position.

    “Vaii gar slanar, Ni slanar.”

    The Mandalorian's head snaps back up to her, the modulator picking up his sharp inhale. “What?”

    “Vaii gar slanar, Ni slanar. I hope I'm saying that correctly. That's Mando'a, right?” She asks, showing him the necklace he gave her. He looks at it briefly before nodding slowly.

    Y/N looks back down at the necklace that was now around her neck. “What does it mean?”

    Din reaches over, rubbing his leather-clad thumb over the ingrained lettering. He looks at it for a few seconds before finally looking up at her, making eye contact through his visor.

    “Where you go, I go.”

    Y/N bit her lip, putting her hand over his, scanning his helmet. She always respected the Way, but right now, all she wanted was to rip the stupid thing off his head.

    “I'm sorry... About what I said,” Din apologizes, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of her hand.

    She smiles slightly. “I know you are,” she replies as she gives his hand a comforting squeeze. Din let's out a sigh of relief, leaning forward to place his helmet against her forehead. Y/N closes her eyes, the Beskar cold to her skin.

    Din watches her from beneath his helmet, seeing how content she looked. He reaches his other hand up, cupping her cheek, the fabric a warm contrast compared to his Beskar.

    “Close your eyes.”

××××××

#star wars #star wars imagine #the mandalorian imagine #mandalorian imagine #din djarin imagine #the mandalorian × reader #mandalorian × reader #din djarin × reader #the mandalorian #mandalorian #din djarin #pedro pascal #baby grogu #baby yoda #grogu #grogu djarin #kay writes

[bellesque]

Respite

The Mandalorian x Reader

Summary:

There are three things the Mandalorian can’t have at the same time, or at all:

An excursion with the kid.

No one tracking him.

A brief window for him to let his guard down.

In other words: peace.

But maybe, just for one day... he can.

Read on AO3.

Rating: T

Word Count: 5.8K

Warnings/Tags: Fluff, Daddy Din, Softness, Light Angst like it’s barely there, me just trying to make things make sense just shhh ignore science and some canon for the fluff

A/N: yes, i couldn’t help myself. oops. y’all know i’ve been obsessing over this show lately, lemme just ease into writing for mando too okay okay great

- - - - - - - - - -

So. Holding a little baby ball of green wrapped in scratchy brown wool was not something you thought you’d be doing today.

Not that you plan your days particularly. No, but you had some idea of how it would go. Tinker a little at the shop, maybe bargain with the offworld Jawas outside the city. Come back home for a bite to eat and then maybe tinker some more.

Cruise through hyperspace, this baby with the hugest fucking eyes in your arms? Never in your wildest dreams would you have thought this is what you’d end up doing.

His pointy ears perk skyward as he stares up at you, cooing softly in question. Shit, what does it want? Does it need anything? You’re not exactly sure what you’re supposed to—

“Put the kid down.”

Maker, your heart almost jumps out of your chest. The modulated voice isn’t angry. It’s not impatient, but it’s not patient either. It’s quiet at the same time loud enough for you to hear through the iron that encases it. It’s stoic, emotionless, intimidating…

Fucking scary is what it is. Is what he is.

You’ve heard the stories. About the Mandalorian as a people. To see one? Be in the same ship as one?

Well, if you were back home, you’d be considered a legend just alongside them actually.

You bounce the baby gingerly, so minutely it’s almost like you don’t move your arms at all. Maker, you’re confused. You don’t know what it is, why it looks aged at the same time so adorable, and you don’t know what it needs.

Which brings you back to the Mandalorian, whom you’ve known for approximately—oh, about an hour or so now, and his change in verbal directive. “I thought you said—”

“I know what I said. Put him down.”

Who are you, really, to argue with him? All things considered, it’s his ship, his rules, and his baby. Apparently.

There’s no way he’d be all green and bug-eyed underneath all that armor right?

You ignore the burning question that stations itself on the tip of your tongue, instead bending down to set the baby on its feet on the metal floor of the Razor Crest. The baby coos again, wobbling its way towards the pilot chair where its dad sits.

Stars, how is it so fucking cute?

You’re a little too intrigued by the way the baby moves: his whole body leans heavily towards one side with every waddle forward. Slow, purposeful, adorable waddles. It’s amazing how he just doesn’t teeter off too much to one side and fall in a heap of wool and large ears.

The baby manages to soundlessly end up by the Mandalorian’s feet, tugging at him with its stubby three fingers. The Mandalorian’s helmet turns briefly, glancing down at the green creature that helplessly reaches for something too far up the console. Too far for his little grubby hands to reach.

He audibly sighs as he scoops up the baby in one hand, settling it onto his lap while it continues to make grabby hands at something.

“I meant the pram.”

“O-oh,” is the only pathetic thing you can say. You shouldn’t feel embarrassed, but it stubbornly makes its way into your system anyway. This wasn’t a job you signed up for. In fact, you don’t know exactly why you’re here. The Mandalorian simply looked you up and down after you made a few repairs to his ship, and asked quite bluntly, “You good with a blaster?”

You blinked, twice, just enough time for your mind to catch up and process what he just asked. “I’m sorry?”

“Can you shoot?”

“Um.” Eloquent. “I’ve tried, a couple times, bu-but—”

He expertly threw the blaster rifle at you, which you struggled to catch perfectly. Him, as intimidating as ever, jerked his head to the side. “Shoot,” he said simply, raising a gloved hand to point at a canister several feet away. “Right there.”

And you did. By beginner’s luck, the canister split open.

Which, for some Maker-forsaken reason, warrants your presence on this ship. Are you a babysitter? His… partner for a day? Extra help? Maintenance? You had one job: tune up his Razor Crest. That’s it. You should be back home. Tinkering. Fixing. Bargaining.

But you’re here. A backdrop to a mysterious bounty hunter and his equally mysterious baby.

“I can put him in the crib,” you offer a little nervously.

The Mandalorian says nothing. He sits, stoic and silent in the pilot’s chair, the baby cooing periodically in his lap as he plays with the tiny metal ball the Mandalorian hands him. You swallow. He doesn’t even have to look at you for your palms to start sweating.

And it doesn’t help your rising nerves that you don’t know why you’re here. You’re not a quarry—right? Oh, shit, is there any way you could be and you just don’t know it?

To venture forward and say something, or continue to stand several feet behind him in silence. Have your questions answered, or just wait until he deems it the right time to provide you with them. It’s a mental battle that has you chewing on your lip and glancing skittishly at the glowing buttons around you.

Eventually your nerves win out, unable to take the quiet that stretches out seemingly into lightyears. “Um. So… what do you… need me to do?”

The Mandalorian takes a beat to respond. He presses a few buttons on the console, and mutters a curt, “Hold onto something.”

You’re glad for your quick reflexes, because as soon as he says so your fingers latch onto the nearest metal bar just as you lurch forward in hyperjump. The impact leaves you a little dizzy, swaying on your feet as you struggle to regain your bearings when you exit hyperspace.

He swivels to face you, standing from his seat and regarding you with… subtle interest, maybe? Or maybe he’s just amused at how you’re still swaying in your spot.

The baby fits snugly into the crook of his arm, and the image of this broad man covered head to toe in beskar with the tiniest little thing tucked into the bend of his elbow is so bizarre that you physically have to bite back a question: Are you green too?

“I need you to cover me,” he says eventually. The baby gurgles and looks up at the metal visor. “Just for today.”

“Cover you how?”

His helmet tips down as he glances at the baby in his arm. “Make sure no one’s following me. If you see someone, shoot.”

“Now hold on,” you interrupt. Finally you’ve regained your balance, and apparently, your voice. “I only shot that canister once.”

His pauldron lifts as he shrugs with one shoulder. “Once is enough.”

“I don’t think I can get lucky a second time.”

“Look,” he says, and there’s something in his voice that quells the arguments forming in your throat. Desperation, maybe? Just a hint? A little urgent, a little… pleading? It’s a little hard to decipher, between the general lack of emotional lilt in his voice and the synthetic warp of his helmet. “I can pay you. Handsomely. Just watch my back, only for today, and I’ll take you home right after.”

You consider it—well, not like your consideration changes anything. You’re already on this forsaken ship, hurtling towards who-knows-where, so might as well. A little extra something never hurt anyone. Especially you.

You need the credits. Bad. The shop’s been struggling a little, and if you’re being honest, having the Mandalorian come in was the best thing to happen to you financially in weeks.

Okay. Okay, maybe you could do this. Watch his back. Just for today, like he said. You nod, mostly to convince yourself rather than to affirm him. “Okay,” you say aloud. You watch as the Mandalorian descends the ladder with one arm, still cradling the baby in the other. “So where are we going? A bounty, maybe? Someone who needs some good Mandalorian-style telling off?”

 --

It surprises you entirely when you land on the Forest Moon of Endor.

Really, there’s nothing here. Except for Ewoks. You have absolutely no clue, no idea what could possibly attract the Mandalorian to this place.

Except maybe, you think as the baby stumbles through the lush forest as fast as its little legs can take it—maybe this is why.

The Mandalorian hasn’t whisked you off to some exciting, gunslinging adventure. Not a bargain, or a job.

He’s brought you here for a day of nothing.

Granted, it’s not like you’re actually a part of it. You’re an awkward, outside-looking-in kind of spectator, eyes flitting nervously from vine to vine and grip tightening on the blaster whenever you hear even the slightest snap or crunch of nature. The gentle breeze carries the light laughter of the baby to your vicinity, and he holds your attention before your eyes focus on his guardian (dad?) a few meters away.

He’s… quiet. As usual. But for some reason, despite the seemingly impenetrable fortress of beskar and your inability to get a read on him, you can just tell, clear as day. It’s a soft sort of silence.

The chrome visor is undeniably trained on the little green baby as it chases after something that crawls on the grassy earth. The sky is a dusty blue, painting shadows over the Mandalorian and his tiny companion.

Serene. Peaceful.

You don’t know how long it takes until your tense muscles begin to relax from the calmness of Endor. Your breathing evens out and you set the blaster on your lap as you sit yourself on a large rock. It’s… nice. No pressure. Just a day with a kid and his dad doing absolutely nothing.

Peaceful.

While your body loosens up, the Mandalorian continues to stand across from you in soft stoicism. Based on his body language, his fight-or-flight response isn’t at the fore, but it’s ready to be pulled out at a moment’s notice.

But he’s, for the most part, present. Watching. Observing. Admiring, if the gentle tilt of his helmet is any indication.

You wonder, fleetingly, what it must be like to be him. To follow in the ways of the Mandalore. What he has to give up, what he has to live with.

His helmet snaps up to look straight at you. You jump.

He walks over to you in long strides, and you can’t help but feel like prey. Maker, he could have a smile on his face, could be the least intimidating person in all the galaxy—but the way he walks, all bulk and purpose, makes you feel like a rabbit in a snare.

You nod your head in the general direction of the baby, hating the way your heart thumps loudly against your sternum when he approaches. “So. Endor? For this?”

“Yes.” He moves to stand next to the giant boulder you’re perched on, holding his posture straight as ever. Your eyes flicker from his helmet to his chest plate, and this time your questions burst at the seams.

“Isn’t that heavy?” you blurt.

His head tilts slowly to face you, and you hastily turn yours away. Your cheeks burn. Scary. Fucking scary.

“Y-your armor.” He doesn’t have to say anything. Somehow with the look he’s giving you, shielded at the same time piercing, gets your mouth moving. Like a bounty trying to negotiate. You can’t look at him. You can’t. You’ve made a fool of yourself, asking such a dumb, rhetorical question that continues to hang in the air. “I-I was asking, if—if—”

“The beskar becomes a part of a Mandalorian. It’s worn with pride.” There’s a pause, and you can see in your peripheral that he frees you from the weight of his gaze and returns it to the giggling child. “But. Sometimes.”

You nod in short, slow jerks, trying to empathize with him. “You ever take it off?”

“No. Not in front of people, at least.”

“Even the helmet?”

“Especially the helmet.”

You’re pushing it. Testing the limits, the boundaries of his silence. For all you know he could snap like a twig from your probing.

… Maybe one more.

“But why?”

The Mandalorian exhales, his chest visibly expanding and compressing as the sound seeps out of the modulator, long and drawn out like the silences you’ve spent with him. “This is the Way,” he murmurs.

The Way. The tone in his voice, though barely noticeable thanks to the filter, is enough to remind you that he is a man underneath all that metal. You feel a little… bad for him. Covered head to toe in armor, never able to take it off.

So you kick off the rock, without a real solid plan in mind, and hold out your palm to the Mandalorian.

He cocks his head to the side. You imagine he’s giving you the wariest of looks inside the metal that sheaths him. “What?”

“I’m going to go.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know, I’ll scout or whatever it is you call it. Just—what is it—secure? Yeah, that. And you,” you glance around, searching for the baby, “are going to get some downtime alone.”

He visibly tenses, and the stark contrast of his hardness and the thriving, dancing foliage amuses you just a little. Cracks that hard shell of intimidation you held for him moments ago.

“The kid—”

“I’ll look after him,” you cut in. Maker, he’s so protective over the little bean. You wonder what this bounty hunter had to go through with him to warrant such concern. “It’s why I’m here, right?”

You can tell he’s considering it. Just when you think he’s going to accede, however:

“It’s too dangerous.”

“I’ll fire two warning shots into the sky if anything happens,” you promise. Your mind’s working a mile a minute—stars, you don’t know why you want to help him, ease whatever burden he faces—but you try to come up with solutions and answers where you’re able. “I’ll skirt this perimeter, far from you. I’m handy with a blaster, remember?” You hold it up for emphasis. “And, and—you can stay on the ship. Or in a super secluded corner, I’ll slip you some food and you can take off your helmet—”

“Stay here with the kid.”

“Huh?”

He takes a step backward. “Don’t let him out of your sight.”

The Mandalorian disappears into the dense woodland without another word.

The baby gurgles at your feet, gripping the hem of your pant leg as it looks up at you once again. Imploringly, almost as if to ask, Up?

You scoop him up into your arms and sit back down on the boulder. “Think your daddy’s gonna have a good time on his own?” You scratch his ears, his eyelids drooping into inky semicircles at your actions. You soften. “You’re cute. No wonder he likes you.”

You get the feeling he doesn’t like anyone else as much.

 --

It’s well and truly dark when the Mandalorian comes back.

The evening creatures have started up their symphony to welcome the night, a gentle accompaniment to the rustling of the leaves and the faint, distant gush of water. The baby slept in your lap for a bit as you battled your own stupor, and he woke up with an energetic babble to continue exploring the small patch of forested, open space the Mandalorian landed you in.

He doesn’t scare you as much when he comes back. Maybe it’s the way he walks, a little less battle-ready and a little more eased, or because you’ve gotten past that image of him just being some steel-plated bounty hunter. Either way, you greet him with a smile.

“Okay?”

He nods, one short dip of his head. “Thank you. For taking care of him.” He turns to watch the baby attempt to catch something that… most probably isn’t there. “I’ve secured the area. Scanner says there’s no one here but us for another thousand mile radius.”

“That’s good to know.” You rise to your feet. “Ready to head back?”

“Actually,” he starts, the word dragging slow and easy, “I was thinking we could head back tomorrow.”

Well. That certainly surprises you.

“It’s… nice here,” he admits quietly, almost like he doesn’t want to say it. But you understand. Sitting in silence here in one of the less populated parts of Endor has been therapeutic for your soul. You didn’t realize how hectic your daily life back home truly was: fast-paced, requiring you to be two steps ahead to survive. Here, you’re able to be free from the need to stay on your toes, even just for a moment. Maybe the baby’s carefree energy is contagious, but being here, alone with him, has already done wonders for the invisible weight on your shoulders.

“It is,” you agree. One contemplative inhale; two more. Should you ask? Maybe you shouldn’t.

Ah, fuck it.

“So… since we’re staying one night,” you swallow, “do you want to, maybe, watch the suns rise?”

Mando looks at you. At least, you think he does. The hard lines of his helmet make you feel that his personality is the same way: sharp, cutting—he’s probably the type of guy who always looks people in the eye. You imagine he’s looking straight into yours. He stays like this, still as a statue, while you make it a point not to buckle from the attention. You wish you knew what he was thinking, how he was looking at you. Just to know if you’ve missed the mark and suggested something downright preposterous.

“Yeah.” His shoulders relax after an excruciating, lengthy moment. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

You breathe out a soundless sigh of relief, wind you didn’t realize you were holding gushing out of your lungs, and you beam weakly at him. “Okay. Great.”

“Get in the ship. We can rest a bit, get up in time for the suns to rise over the horizon. Then I can take you home.”

Ah. Home. Something inside you sinks at the thought as you climb into the cockpit, pulling you back to the harsh reality that your life is. Surviving. Working. It’s not that you don’t love what you do, it’s just… this is such a welcome reprieve. You aren’t exactly ready for it to end, even though this trip wasn’t meant for you at all.

At least both of you are on the same page.

You and Mando make camp on a relatively open field on a ridge that overlooks Endor’s teeming lush vegetation. Not much is different here, it’s still trees and plants and earth, but with the baby’s giant bug eyes full of wonder and zeal, it’s as if you’ve landed somewhere else.

A small fire crackles to life, and Mando throws a branch into the flickering flames. He settles back on his haunches and you sit cross-legged next to him.

There’s really just. Something about him. Something that intrigues you, pulls you in just enough, not too close to the fortress he’s built for himself but still, close enough for you to want to know more. You have questions. Still, so many. You gaze at the chrome visor, the fire’s reflection dancing off it in steady flickers.

Steady. Controlled. The possibility of bursting into a large, engulfing wildfire ever-present. You wonder if that’s him—if the Mandalorian is like fire.

“You should get some sleep,” he says after a while, keeping his voice low so as not to disturb the peace that blankets both of you. “You look tired.”

Right on cue, you stifle a yawn. You couldn’t exactly take a nap and watch over the baby, and it’s beginning to take its toll on you. “What about you? You gonna sleep?”

“Maybe.”

Silence. The embers glow within the logs, a pretty, warm orange that makes you vaguely remember the suns you’ve seen before on other star systems. It coaxes you into a state of relaxation, your heartbeat slowing and your eyelids growing heavy. The walls you put up for yourself crumble just the slightest as you let your guard down. Just a little. Perhaps the fire has the same effect on him. What are the odds of him humoring you with another answer?

“Do you… sleep with it on?”

One second drags into many more. The fire crackles. The crickets chirp. The baby gurgles.

“Mostly.”

You don’t pry further. There it is again, crawling up your gut, that mild feeling of secondhand guilt coupled with a little secondhand sadness. And just very steadily creeping in at the edges—the inexplicable need to give him a taste of something he’s probably haven’t had in a long time.

“I can sleep out here. With the baby. You can sleep in the ship, so you can…” The tail end of your statement goes unfinished, fading out into just another crackle of the fire.

But he understands. There’s a weight in this silence this time, pulled with gratitude and perhaps a little awe. You don’t consider yourself a believer in the Force, but. You can feel the wave of subtle relief that radiates from him. Like… like no one’s asked before, and he’s too honorable to ask for something like some time to himself.

“Thank you.”

Your chin dips forward, the same time you feel your cheeks warming—from the fire or something else entirely. You don’t exactly want to name it. “You’re welcome.”

A pause. “Will you… be okay?”

“Tough girl like me?” You give him a sleepy half-smile. “I’ll manage.”

You think you’ve just gotten used to him, acclimatized to the way he keeps you at arm’s length simultaneously trying to maintain a certain degree of chivalry—but what you think you know of him is tossed completely out the window when he stands and pats you on the shoulder.

It’s brief. Just a second, nothing more; casual in itself yet somehow it holds the weight of a star system. To you, at least. The Mandalorian are warriors. They should not know softness… but they do. This one does.

He retreats into the safety of the Razor Crest, his silhouette fading into nothing more than a shiny glint, but the mystery of him shines brighter in your mind’s eye than ever before.

∎∎∎∎∎∎

“Mando. Hey, Mando. I can call you that, right?”

You bounce the baby on your hip, significantly more confident in your movements than you were yesterday. He’s taken a liking to you, you think. He lights up with giggles when you raise the pitch of your voice and scrunch up your nose to amuse him. You can see why the Mandalorian likes him.

You’re quickly growing fond of the little womp rat too.

The Mandalorian straightens. He looks at you in question. You don’t know how you can tell—you just do.

“Suns’re about to rise. Stop checking that thing and let’s sit down.”

He taps his vambrace a couple more times before his arm drops to his side. “Habit. Don’t come crying for help if there’s an ambush we don’t know about.”

You roll your eyes, scratching the baby’s whiskery forehead. “Sit. C’mon.”

You plop onto the ground for emphasis, and the Mandalorian follows in a far more bulky, yet somehow graceful, manner beside you. Endor is still colored a pale indigo, the first few rays of sunlight barely peeking out from the horizon.

You’ll be quiet this time, you promise yourself. No more prying questions, no more trying to wheedle information out of him. Just peace and quiet, a change of pace from the brutal noise of bounty hunting he’s used to.

“I actually… shouldn’t have done. What I did.”

You wait for him to continue; you get the feeling he’s talking more for his benefit than for yours. He’s not trying to fill the void with needless chatter. This is different.

“Picking you up and taking you away from your job. It was wrong of me. I’m sorry.”

You shrug. Truthfully, you don’t mind as much as he thinks you do. “I needed a change of scenery. I’m guessing you did too.”

“I did.” He straightens. “But. Still.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Now, you count the seconds until he starts speaking, just to keep your mind from initiating the conversation. You get the idea that if you start talking, asking more questions, saying random things you notice about the changing color of the sky, whatever spell he seems to be under—being freer in his words, the beskar fortress opening just a tiny crack for you—will be broken.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight—

Eight whole seconds.

“I’m not even supposed to be doing this. Staying in one place for too long is… dangerous.”

“For you, or the kid?”

“Both of us.”

“Just a few more minutes,” you encourage lightly. “Until we see the suns completely.”

And there it is, that tip of the strong lines of his helmet dipping low, a finality in the gesture that renders you mute. An acknowledgment. Silence.

Golden beams of light begin to bleed over the tops of the terrain, the trees turning from a shadowed teal to a full forest green. But… slowly. You don’t realize how slow sunrises are until you’re actually watching one. The giant star inches its way up over the sleepy Forest Moon, its second half just barely noticeable and following suit. It’s kind of fun to try and figure out where one sun stops and the other begins.

“It’s been a while,” Mando starts, voice pleasantly low and modulated and throwing you for a loop completely, “since I… last watched a sunrise.”

You pick at the wool covering the baby. “Really? When was the last time?” You bounce the kid to keep him from fidgeting in your lap, a constant rhythm to lull him into a tranquil disposition.

Mando leans back against both his arms, head going to one side in thought. “I was a foundling. I can’t remember much of it—just the feeling. How warm the sun was. Everywhere. It was… it was blinding. I think.”

You gaze at him. The threat of heaviness hangs between you, and you attempt to keep an air of lighthearted conversation before it can drag you down into a pit you’re not quite ready to jump into. “And now? Too many bounties to hunt?”

He turns his gaze to the horizon. “Something like that.”

The morning breeze caresses the tendrils of your hair, fanning out behind you while the baby reaches in vain to capture a tiny insect that flies past.

Stars. Something in his answer shakes you. Not an earth-splitting, roaring kind of shake—it’s a quiet rumble, enough to rouse one who was sleeping. Enough for one to go, “What was that?” and wonder if what they felt was real.

He’s a bounty hunter. He shouldn’t be sitting here, with you—with a kid, for Maker’s sake—watching a sunrise on Endor. All beskar, all tough, he probably fought tooth and nail to survive. He’s probably killed more people than you’ve seen at the shop. His silence is probably calculating after years of hunting. Distrustful of strangers, always strategically two steps ahead. For him, it’s probably killed or be killed. That’s probably second nature, hell, first instinct maybe, for him. Probable. Not fact. Still—you get the feeling you’re not quite off the mark.

But for him to mention the last time he saw a sunrise.

He’s scary. Stoic, emotionless, intimidating…

But he was someone before he put his armor on.

Metal maketh a Mandalorian. But also, not really. Of course there’s more to it. But it’s all you and most see him as: just some metal bounty hunter chasing coin. It’s easy to forget there’s a man underneath, warm and alive and likely just as human. Does he allow a smile underneath his helmet? Does he hold his laugh back, does he let his tears fall freely?

And then somehow, gazing absently at the lazily rising suns, its warmth spilling over the horizon, something guts you. A realization. One not so outrightly jarring, but it hits you with surprising force nonetheless. It wriggles its way to the tip of your tongue, somewhere between a question and a statement that you fight to withhold.

You don’t doubt that he’s seen the sun rise. Has he taken the time out to sit here, like this, and watch? Probably not. But you don’t doubt he’s seen it.

You doubt that he’s seen it since he swore the oath.

The baby brings you back to the present, his gentle grip on your forearm rousing you from your deep thought. You glance at him, and then to the Mandalorian beside you. He’s absolutely set in his seat, still and silent like he always is. You wonder if he’s always been like that. Or if without the helmet, it’s a different story.

You have too much respect for him—fear, yes, but mostly respect—to ask him to take it off with you next to him. So instead, you scoot gingerly, careful not to jostle the baby too much, until you’re sitting with your backs pressed together.

You feel the slightest shift of metal against your hair as the Mandalorian turns his head partially to the side. A silent question.

You’re nervous. You don’t know why the tiny action has your heart thumping. Your fingers pick at the wool once more. When you speak, your voice is small. “I… you can—um, you can. Take off your helmet. I won’t look. Promise.”

The wind whistles in your ears, and you wonder if it carried your voice away. Or if you’ve just insulted him. Oh, Maker, why do you have to be so fucking impulsive—

“The suns are rising here. On this side.”

“I-I know,” you trip, “but you know. Endor. Binary star system, all that. But we’re on the Forest Moon, right? So—so I’ve heard stories that—”

“You want to watch the suns rise.”

You huff, a little exasperated. What exactly are you frustrated about? That he’s deflecting so much? That you’re stammering every two seconds? That you’re trying to do something nice but you feel it’s going completely over his stupid metal head?

You exhale and try again. Sure enough, climbing inch by inch, another celestial body begins to rise up into your eyeline. “They say Endor—the planet, I mean—sometimes acts like a second sun.”

“Endor has two suns.”

Maybe you’re crazy, but you swear you hear a smile somewhere through that warped voice filter.

“I mean—” your cheeks are heating up now, “they say you can watch the suns rise on both sides if you’re on its moons. But one of them’s not really the sun. Duh. Endor just. Reflects the light, so it looks like the sun. Or-or something like that.”

“And you see it?”

“Right now? I do.” You bite your bottom lip, briefly debating if you should vocalize what you’ve been thinking just now. “I just… have you ever seen a sunrise? Without that thing on?”

Oh, you’ve done it now. If you were toeing the line before, now you just straight up cross it, ignoring any and all boundaries. Maker, you’ve literally just met him. But here you are, running your mouth and doing uncharacteristic things.

But he’s surprised you multiple times too. His kid. His awkward softness. Or at least, his willingness to try for it.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out. “I-I wasn’t thinking, and—”

Something thunks against the hard earth. A fraction of a tilt of your head to the side, and a brief glint of metal twinkles out of the corner of your eye.

You’ve never straightened so fast.

Your heart continues to thump, a staccato that has your nerves skyrocketing. Don’t look. He’s trusting you. Don’t look.

You never expected the steel fortress to crack even just a little. But here, right now, he’s opened a fucking gate with you.

You’re too afraid to even speak right now, afraid that it will burst whatever precious moment you two are both sharing and experiencing separately. You feel the Mandalorian inhale and then exhale, equally long and deep, as he sags against you.

Tired. Relieved. Heavy. Eased.

Unmodulated.

Vulnerable.

After a few moments your taut muscles begin to loosen and you nestle as much as you can into the armor on his back. His head gently bumps against yours, and you stiffen.

The baby coos in your arms. You relax minutely.

You spend seconds, minutes, possibly even hours sitting back-to-back with the Mandalorian in companionable silence. Endor isn’t as blinding as its suns are, but it’s still incredibly pretty to watch its reflected light crawl over the horizon. You sit and watch until the light spreads over the entirety of the Forest Moon, until your shadows slowly disappear, in awe of the absolute tranquility of it all. It just feels right, even with his beskar pressed against your back and the baby babbling from time to time. It shouldn’t, but it does, and your heart fills with warmth that spreads through your veins, like the sun’s a beacon of warm feelings and you’ve just absorbed it all. You close your eyes. And you commit this moment—this singular, uninterrupted moment that’s forever yours—to memory.

“This is nice,” you whisper.

“Yeah,” he quietly agrees, “it is.”

∎∎∎∎∎∎

It kind of really fucking breaks your heart when you exit the Razor Crest and enter the shop with a bag full of credits.

Of course it had to end. What were you thinking? That somehow, the Mandalorian was going to offer you to stay? What would you even do?

After you and Mando shared such an intimate (at the same time, not) moment together, it’s kind of… strange to be back where you started. In the shop. A good distance apart.

About to say goodbye.

“Thank you,” he says, his modulated voice ringing familiar and foreign at the same time.

“My pleasure.”

Awkward. It’s not strained, but… it’s off, considering this morning. The intimacy of such an innocent moment. Do you… hug? Do Mandalorians hug?

He glances at the ship. “I should get going.”

“Your ship’s all good. I, uh, checked once we landed.”

“Thank you.”

Gratitude. Always, with him. Your cheeks burn.

He turns to walk up the ramp, and before you can stop yourself your mouth opens before your mind can protest.

“Hey Mando—”

He stops, turns to face you. That piercing gaze. You just know it. You smile, hoping he smiles under his helmet. You really, really hope he’s smiling under there.

“Be safe.”

He waits a beat. Then another. And then—

“You too.”

Your heart drops, just a little, but you keep your smile on your face and your eyes trained on the Crest as the engines power up. And then he’s off, taking his kid with him along with the memory of his brief period of respite with you.

Maybe another day, when the last thing you’d think you’d be doing is holding a little baby ball of green wrapped in scratchy brown wool, will be the day he comes back.

The chances of that are slim. But still, you’ll take your chances.

You like those odds.

#the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian fanfic #daddy din #that’s basically all this is #respite #by belle #mando x you #mando x reader #idk what else to tag tbh

[creativitynchaos]

Little Spitfire

MC finds themselves rather fed up with moronic demons trying to intimidate them and shows some fighting spirit.

Warnings: some cursing, badly written fights and poor attempts at humour

The day had begun peacefully. MC had breakfast with the brothers, enjoying the typical morning banter. They had announced that they were planning to go shopping later, as it is their day off. Chaos ensued as the argument of who would accompany them began, the scene all to familiar to them. The brothers tended to always fight against one another, when it came to keeping their human company, especially during days off. With a sigh and a roll of their eyes, MC had slipped out of the dinning room, making their way back to their room, to get ready. As they had descended the main staircase, one of the brothers was already stood by the front door, waiting for them. With a smile on both their faces, the two made their way towards the Shopping District. Pulling out a list, MC had focused solely on rereading it, unaware of the gaze of a few lesser demons not too far from them, as they accidentally strolled away from their shopping partner, as he got distracted by a window display. Feeling a presence near them, MC had turned their head expecting the brother, only to come face to face with some creepy looking demon and two of his friends. "Would you look at the little human, confidently strolling through our territory." The demon spit out, his lips curling into an evil smirk,making MC cringe internally at how hard he was trying to be intimidating. "Why don't you entertain me, huh?" He asked, hand reaching out and grabbing onto their arm, ready to pull them closer. "He…."The demon brother, who had realised what was happening, began as he made his way towards the scene, when something made him freeze. "OH. FUCK. OFF. MATE."

LUCIFER The Avatar of Pride wasn't sure if he was more shocked or, well proud as he watched the scene play out before him. With barely a few seconds pause, the MC had shifted, twisting their own and grabbing onto the demons arm, they pulled him forward, kicking at his knees, sending the creep flying forward and landing on his face. Not even giving the other two a chance to react, MC spun on their heel, leg swinging as they kicked one of the other demons sending him toppling into the other one, the two landing in a pile of tangled limbs on the ground. With an annoyed huff, the human dusted themselves, still unaware of the admiring gaze of a certain black haired demon. Picking up their shopping list and bag from her ground MC sharply turned around only to smack their face straight into the sturdy chest of none other but Lucifer. "Are you alright, MC?" He asked, a proud smirk on his face as he glanced over the human, admiring the state they had left those lowly demons in. The first born had made sure to memorise their faces, so that he could have little 'chat' with them, about respecting whats his, but for now… "No thanks to you." MC huffed, a teasing grin on their lips as they glanced at the demons behind them, already scrambling up and turning to glare at the human, only to damn near shit themselves at the sight of Lucifer, protectively wrapping an around them. With a few pathetic squeals the demons had made a not so graceful but surely, a tactical retreat and run the fuck away, screaming. "Where were you anyway?" MC asked, shrugging off the situation and turning their gaze to Lucifer, gazing into his brilliant ruby eyes with curiosity. "I got you something." Lucifer answered with a chuckle handing a paper bag to MC. "Now, why don't we finish up here…" "We haven't even started!" MC called out, making the demon clear his throat. "Right. Then why don't we get the shopping done, and when we're back…" Lucifer corrected himself, leaning down as he tightened his hold on MC's shoulders, pulling them closer." …how about you show me some more of those moves, privately?" He whispered before pulling away, grabbing onto their shopping list and striding away in the direction of the relevant shops. MC stood there for a second, dumbfounded by the proposal, a soft blush on their cheeks as they grinned, moving to chase after the prideful demon with a laugh. "Is you head ever NOT in the gutter, Lucifer?" They asked, catching up and linking their arm with his, sending him a cheeky grin. It was going to be an interesting shopping trip.

MAMMON The Avatar of Greed laughed loudly as he stopped himself from running to MC's side and instead pulled out his D.D.D and started to film. "That's my human!!" He called out proudly. MC, ignoring the demons shenanigans, focused on the creeps before them. Grabbing onto the demons arms, they pulled him forwards, headbutting the demon and sending him stumbling backwards into his companions. The two went to catch him as MC  ran up kicking the stumbling demon in the chest causing the three to stumble backwards and into a fountain behind them. Now tangled in a soggy pile of limbs, the demons screamed curses at the human, as they turned around, spotting Mammon at the front of the gathering crowd. Walking right in front of him, MC had crossed their arms, sending a glare in the his direction. "Mammon…" MC growled out, annoyed." Did you chose filming a fight over helping me, in hopes that a video of a human beating up demons would earn you money?" They asked, tapping their foot on the ground. The white haired demon quickly hid his phone, laughing nervously. "W-what?! N-no, I-i just knew that there's no way my human would need help dealing with such wimps!" He stumbled an explanation, noticing the demons had managed to recover from their unexpected bath, and were approaching the unaware human. With a growl he grabbed MC's hand pulling them into his arms and turning to the demons, a powerful aura surrounding him as he glared at them from under his shades. "Mammon?"MC asked, surprised by the sudden hug, as they twisted in his embrace, arms wrapping around his slim waist, automatically as they finally noticed the moronic demons. The three stood there, frozen, eyes wide and blood draining from their faces. Mammon's aura was enough for them to realise it wasn't any demon they were dealing with, with a strange squeak escaping them, the three turned around, stumbling over themselves as they jumped straight back into the fountain, not daring to even glance at the pair as the strolled past. Mammon still holding tightly onto MC, as they hugged his waist with one arm a shiteating grin on their face." Awww, I knew you cared~" "S-shut up, you damn human!" The blue eyed demon mumbled, a flush visible across his handsome face, making MC's grin widen."L-like hell I'm gonna let some idiots touch ya'! I'm your first, so I obviously have to protect you." He huffed as he finally stopped walking. "Thaaaanks, Mammon~" MC said giving him one finally squeeze and pulling away, or trying to. The white haired demon wrapped an arm around them and leaned in closer. "We can discuss you payment later." He whispered, cheeks red, and then he let got and turned around to enter the shop, MC left behind, grinning happily.

LEVIATHAN "WHOA!!!" The all to familiar noise came from the Avatar of Envy as MC spun in their spot, kicking the demon in the side, making him let go of their arm. The purple haired male watched with wide eyes and mouth agape as his fav normie turned towards the other two demons, their fist cutting through air and smacking one in the face, making a small turn and slamming their elbow in the third ones gut. Levi could swear he could hear victory music playing as MC walked away from the three demons curled up on the ground, lightly flexing their wrist and rubbing their fingers, which were sore from the impact of the punch. They picked up their stuff and turned to the mesmerised otaku, as he began cheering excitedly. "Hey, there you are!" MC called out, as they approached, only to be pulled into a tight hug, their feet dangling in the air as Levi as spun them around. "WHOA! Whoa!!"Levi continued excitedly." You were, like, an anime protagonist!! I knew you were my Henry!!!" He spoke fast and loud, still holding them tightly. "L-levi!! Wait!" MC called out to no avail, as they wrapped their arms around the demons shoulders, clinging to him for dear life, although a smile played on their lips as they did. "Hey, we're not done yet, hand over the human." A voice called out, making Levi stop, he plopped MC down on the ground, his face turning serious and stern as he glared at the demon, a bit of his aura slipping out. The demons hesitated for a moment, flinching at the threatening aura but standing their ground." Give us the fucking human, nerd." The first demon snarled, taking a step forward, only to let out a yelp as MC kicked him again, from where they were still trapped in the third borns arms. They had a a scowl on their face and murder in their eyes. "Call him a nerd once more and they'll be scraping you of the fucking ground."They snarled, as Levi tightened his grip around them, stopping them from launching themselves at the three idiots. He sent them a death stare, making the three go pale. "You better get out here before I let them go…" He scoffed before smiling." And this time, I'll join them." He added, turning into his demon form, sending them stumbling over one another as they made their daring escape out of the Shopping District, turning many heads in the process. With the threat gone, the Avatar of Envy, changed back and relaxed his grip on his fav normie. He looked at them, a wide smile on his face. "Whoa! Badass Levi to the rescue!!!" MC cheered, wrapping their arms around him and squeezing tightly, making the demon flush but hug back. "It's mandatory for the Lord of Shadow to always have Henry's back." He said proudly, his cheeks flushed. "That's true friendship!" He stated, proudly. MC gave him one last squeeze before they let go, however as they turned to moved away, they felt a tug on their wrist. Turning around they turned to face Levi, as he stood there, blushing. "What's up, Levi?" "Um, h-how about you teach me some of those moves, later… in my room?" He mumbled, hair covering his eyes as he awaited a response. MC smiled as they blushed slightly, before moving forward and pecking Levi's cheek. "Sounds fun!" They cheered as they grabbed his arm and pulled them along, to get their shopping done as fast as possible.

SATAN The Avatar of Wrath did absolutely nothing to stop the situation before him, one hand on his hip as he stood there with a proud smile on his face. His green eyes observed with admiration as MC tugged the demon closer, kneeing him in the gut and pushing him away. Once done with the first one, they spun around, their heel connecting with another demons face, sending him flying on top of the first one. The third one grabbed onto them from behind, only to for his nose to forcefully get introduced with MC's head as they swung it back, smacking him. Rubbing their head, form the impact the human stood straight, looking at their handiwork, three demons groaning on the ground before them. Satan let out a chuckle as he approached MC, clapping. "Very skilfully done, MC."He admitted, as he gazed down at the lower demons, his face suddenly changing as they looked up at him, ready to fight again. His smile disappeared, a harsh glare taking over as he took MC's hand in his" Now, why don't you get out of my sight. If you plan on seeing tomorrow." He said, in a chilling but calm voice, before he walked around them, pulling MC along. The human observed the blond back of his head for a moment before stopping and pulling their hand away, crossing their arms instead." MC?" "Playing the White Knight a little too late, don't ya think?" They scoffed, a grin on their face as they raised an eyebrow. Satan turned around to face them, his smile back. "I'm doing no such thing." He chuckled as he came closer, taking MC's hand into his again." I didn't feel the need to intervene in a situation you had complete control over." He stated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world."Although, I must admit,I didn't expect you to look so enchanting." He added, pulling MC's hand to his lips and kissing their knuckles, green eyes never leaving theirs. "That so?" "Of course. Now shall we get the shopping done, I am rather curious what else that body of yours is capable of." He purred before turning around, walking along as if nothing happened. MC rolled their eyes, as the Avatar of Wrath pulled them along, a smile tugging at their lips. "You are a cocky bastard, Satan." The huffed, picking up their pace to walk alongside the demon. The blond haired man, glanced at them, a smirk on their face, but said nothing, making MC squeeze his hand. "Isn't that one of the reasons you're so fond of me?" He asked softly, making MC laugh as they strolled together. "Well, I guess so."

ASMODEUS Asmo stood in place, dumbfounded as he watched what played out in front of him. Spinning around, MC swung their elbow into the demons chin, sending him stammering backwards and knocking into one of his friends. Whilst the two lay on the ground, they turned to the third demon, grabbing his shoulders and kneeing him in the stomach before pushing him atop the other two. "Wow!" Asmo finally spoke as he approached MC, clinging to their arm with a big smile on his face. They smiled at him, but were distracted as the demons began trying to untangle themselves. "Oh, guess they aren't done, yet!" "Just you wait till I get up, you filthy little bitch." The demon who had grabbed MC growled. The words made Asmos demeanour change, his smile dropped for a second, amber eyes becoming sharp and harsh as he let go of his human companion. He stepped forwards, a more sinister smile creeping onto his face, as he looked down at the lower demons."W-what?!" The demon asked, suddenly not feeling so confident, his anger seemed to disperse as he looked into the eyes of the Avatar of Lust. MC watched the demon, pondering whether they should intervene, but deciding against it.  With a sickly sweet smile, Asmo had raised his foot, pushing the pile of demon trash down the stairs as he gave them a little wave. "Bye bye!" He called out, in the midst of surprised screams as the three toppled down the staircase. MC stood there, wide eyes a startled laugh escaping them. "Asmo!" They called out in disbelief as the demon turned around facing them, his sweet and charming persona returning as he skipped back towards them. He began clinging onto MC's arm again, as he let out an innocent giggle." Acting all cute after that, huh?" MC asked in amusement as they picked up their list. Glancing down the stairs, they could see the three demons, laying there in a tangled mess, horrified and confused looks on their faces. "They got away lucky."Asmo said as he stepped in front of MC, grabbing their hands and squeezing as he moved closer and pecked their nose. "No one gets away with calling my beautiful, cute and stunning MC names like that." He said in a softer tone, making MC's heart skip a beat. They offered Asmo their arm, then proceeded to stroll down the Shopping District, when Asmo suddenly giggled. "Hmm, what is it, Asmo?" "Oh I was just wondering just how vigorous you get under different types of excitement."He chuckled as he winked at them, making MC let out a laugh as they shook their head. "Play your cards right and you might just find out." They hummed with a grin, before focusing on their shopping again.

BEELZEBUB

The tall, handsome and hungry was ready to throw down as soon as he saw the three lower demons harassing his dearest human. What happened in the next few moment, however, had shocked the Avatar of Gluttony so much, he damn near dropped his croissant. He stared, mouth wide open as MC   swung their leg, kicking the demon right in the babymaker, only to seal his fate with a knee to the face. Moving on from the first one, they kicked the other two in the shins, only to grab their head and smack them together. Letting go, the human watched as they toppled to the ground. With a huff they turned to walk away, only for the first demon to throw himself forward trying to grab them, or well, try to. He had barely managed to get near the human, when a large hand grabbed onto his clothes and threw him across the large space of the shopping district. MC watched in absolute wonder as the demon flew through air, like a giant trash bag with wings and land in a dumpster. They clapped as they turned to Beelzebub, who was calmly stood there, munching on his pastry as he glared at the other two demons. Intimidated by his size and demonstration of strength the two lesser demons ran, as fast as they could. "Are you OK, MC?" Beel asked, concern clouding his purple eyes, making MC smile at him and nod their head. "I'm okay, Beel. Thanks for having my back." They responded as they handed the orange haired demon the bag of pastries they were holding. He took the bag and began happily munching on the contents before stopping and looking at MC. Suddenly he pulled them into a tight bear hug, making them let out a surprised noise, muffled by having their face smothered in his sturdy chest. "I know you can handle yourself."He said, nuzzling his nose in their hair, a content smile on his face."But remember that I will always protect you, so don't try to handle things by yourself, okay?" He mumbled, hand stroking their head, fingers slightly tangling in their soft hair. "Mphmmhm!"MC mumbled into his chest, making him laugh as he pulled away, the tiniest bit, to allow them some room to breath and speak. MC took a big breath, wrapping their arms around Beels waist and squeezing him back, laughing." Bloody hell, Beel!" "Haha, sorry."He chuckled as he finally pulled away, taking MC's hand into his warm and big one, and turning to keep walking."Shall we get the shopping done?" "Well that's why we're here."MC said, grinning at him as they began walking again. Beelzebub was quiet for a moment before a grin appeared on his face and he turned to them. "Say MC, how about you join me for some private practice once we're home?" He asked, eyes sparkling." I could use a good work out buddy." "Oh, Beel…"MC hummed, shooting him a wink." I would love to."

BELPHEGOR

The Avatar of Sloth was conflicted. On one hand, he wanted to step in and show MC he could be bad ass and dependable. On the other, letting the MC do their thing, meant he didn't have to move a muscle. He stood there, unsure of what to do as the human before him huffed and smacked the demons hand away. Once free, they lunged forward putting him into a headlock, kicking his legs out from underneath him, before pushing him forward. The other two demons growled, stepping forward, only for one to kiss their fist, tripping over his fallen friend. The third demon, attempted a sneak attack, grabbing MC from behind, making the humans foot stomp on his, before they spun around, slamming their knee into the lesser demons crotch. With a pathetic whine, the demon stepped back, collapsing onto his knees, clutching his jewels. Belphegor chuckled as he picked up MC's stuff, 'accidentally' kicking one of the demons as he shot them a murderous look. "Now, how about you scram, whilst you're still breathing."He spat at them before he and MC strolled away from the scene, the perfect example of nonchalance. They walked quite a bit away from the beaten demons, when the blue haired demon began laughing. "Uh, Belphie?" MC called out, unsure what had gotten the sarcastic demon so amused."You good?" "Haha, it's just… you…"He mumbled as he turned to them and pulled them into a tight hug."Oh, a human beating the shit out of three demons. You are incredible."He said happily, snuggling his face into their warm neck, a chuckle escaping him every now and then. "Well, I'm soooo glad I provided such brilliant entertainment for you." They scoffed, a crooked grin on their face, as they placed a hand on his head, stroking his fluffy hair."Thanks so much for the help, by the way." "Aww, come on."He chuckled as he straightened up, looking into MC's eyes."Like you needed any help dealing with those assholes."He chuckled, as he pulled them along, after a moment of silence he turned to them again."Where did you learn that, anyway?" "Hm? Eh, just a couple scraps in the human world." They shrugged, avoiding eye contact, a sort of nostalgic look appearing on their face for a moment, before they grinned, clearing their throat."Gotta be able to look after yourself, sometimes no one else will." They shrugged, still grinning, making Belphie stop walking and pull them close. He smiled at them, his deep purple eyes sparkling with fondness. "I will always be there to back you up." He whispered, before kissing their cheek and pulling away. MC raised an eyebrow, a grin on their face as they moved forwards planting on his cheek. "Thanks, Belphie." They grinned, turning to keep walking. "Also, instead of wasting all that energy on fighting, how about we practice some moves at home?' He murmured into their ear, walking past and grabbing onto their wrist, pulling them along.

#obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me beelzebub #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me lucifer #obey me leviathan #obey me belphegor #obey me asmodeus

[a-5-7-b-8-4-c]

Curly Hair

First fic pretty much ever so sorry if it’s bad :)

Inspired by all the other “What if Virgil has curly hair and the others don’t know yet” fics I’ve read. Anyway, enjoy :)

Summary: V forgets to straighten his hair one morning and it surprises the others.

Around 1700 words I think.

————

Virgil got up from his bed after another sleepless night in a row. The recent panic was starting to get very exhausting - and this is coming from a person who is used to it. Running a hand through his soft, brown curls he grabbed his eyeshadow from his shelf and smudged some onto his face with his finger, not having enough energy to go to an actual mirror or to find the proper brush that he left in the bathroom yesterday. Still half asleep he headed to the kitchen for coffee before actually starting his day. He stumbled groggily past the door only to be met with the loud voices of the others.

Logan seemed to have stopped doing his morning sudoku to engage in an argument with an ecstatic Roman about some detail in a musical and Patton had his back to them, smiling at their bickering while frying pancakes.

“Morning.” Virgil’s fatigued voice called out to them. Like every other morning, they turned to him calmly to greet him. Only this time, they froze instead.

Logan’s pencil dropped.

Roman’s excitement replaced by something unreadable.

The only sound now was the sizzling of Patton’s forgotten pancakes.

“What?” Virgil hesitated, already shying away at the weight of their stares.

None of them moved. Virgil’s mind - racing; What did he forget? Does his eyeshadow look off? He didn’t do it properly so did it look stupid? Are they gonna laugh at him? Maybe the dark circles under his eyes weren’t covered properly and now they’ll worry about his sleep schedule again? No, that wouldn’t make them freeze up like that? It must be something bigger... Something big. Would they kick him out for it? Would they hate him? He was so stupid! What did he forget? What did he do different today? What does he usually do in the morning that he didn’t today? He was wearing his new hoodie... He did his eyeshadow...

Hair!

He touched his fringe, lowering his head in panic.

He forgot to straighten his hair.

Before anyone could react, he bolted back towards his room. After slamming his door securely shut, he dived into his bed covers, enveloping himself completely and comfortably. The others would probably be already mocking him. They would probably follow him to his room and they would criticise him, patronise him, never again take him seriously. He could already hear their voices down the hallway, on their way to his room. He was screwed. Maybe he could somehow convince them that this wasn’t his real hair. How would he even do that? They’re not that stupid. They’ll just have more reasons to hate him...

“How is HE the one with curls?” Roman’s voice snapped him back to reality. Logan’s confused response to Roman’s dramatics was muffled through the door. They were already outside his door. Great.

“Virgil? Can we come in please?” Patton’s soft tone of voice surprised Virgil. Why was it gentle? Were they acting so that he lets them in himself so that they can see it properly before they actually start mocking him?

“NO! Go away.” Virgil answered, his voice hoarse.

“YOU CAN’T JUST SHOW US YOU HAVE CURLS AND THEN BOLT ON US LIKE THAT!” Roman shouted and was instantly chastised by the other two.

“Please, j-just leave.” Virgil’s tone started to go soft. He felt like crying.

Patton’s voice returned, somehow even softer, “Virgil, I promise we won’t laugh. It’s nothing bad. We were just surprised.”

“That is true. You also can simply ignore Roman. He is overly excited.” Logan added. From inside his blanket cocoon, Virgil could faintly hear Roman get offended. He tried to imagine him, his hand dramatically pressed against his chest, his body leaning back in offence and his face open in shock.

Just that was enough to make Virgil snicker lightly. He made a small opening in his blanket bunker just large enough for him to see through.

“Can we please come in and see it?” Patton’s loving voice filled with curiosity and care.

“I... guess?” Virgil answered hesitantly, even quieter than last time.

Instantly the door opened and the three piled into the room, Roman wasting no time in rushing over to the side of the bed, where the Virgil-needs-comfort-so-leave-him-alone pile of blankets lay. They stared at each other. Virgil’s anxious and fearful eyes contrasted with Roman’s excited and glowing ones. The other two caught up with the fanciful side and Virgil noticed that their expressions weren’t that different. Patton looked like at him in admiration and happiness while Logan stared in fascination and confusion, even though none of then could see through the fortress of fluff covering him.

“CAN I TOUCH IT?” Roman hugged his hands to his mouth, hiding his excited smile to try to not overwhelm the anxious side. He looked just like Patton when he sees a puppy.

“Please?” Patton added hopefully.

The furry blob (Virgil) shook, clearly signalling ‘no’, and hunched over, now looking at the edge of the bed.

“Why not?” Logan asked. His voice sounded more collected than his face looked seconds ago.

They only received an answer after a few moments where Virgil brainstormed possible outcomes of his words.

“You’ll laugh.” He whispered honestly, “A-and stop taking me seriously...” With every word he grew quieter, more fearful for their reaction. He didn’t look up during the short moment of silence. He didn’t even look up when Patton moved, nor when he sat on the bed beside him and leaned in to hug him.

“No, we won’t.” He said firmly but still softly. What Virgil couldn’t see was the way his face shifted to show concern and care over the previous excitement.

“Do you really think that low of us, Virgil?” Logan asked, sharing Patton’s concern, “That we would discriminate you for your appearance or that we would mock you for something that you cannot permanently change?”

Virgil thought this through. Analysing them individually, Patton could never mock anyone - it would be mean and he wants everyone to feel included and happy. Logan wouldn’t voice his mocking even if he felt like that - it’s emotions and Logan doesn’t want anything to do with that. Roman was the only wild card but considering how everyone has to put up with his obnoxiously loud serenading and he is still taken seriously, he would have no right to mock Virgil for his hair. Besides, up until now, no-one really reacted negatively... It should be fine, right?

“I’m with Specs over here.” Roman kneeled down to look up at Virgil’s eyes, “I, dressed as a flippin’ princess, ‘cause why not, literally walked in on Logan reading a book in his unicorn onesie last week because Patton was wondering what hair dyes would be best for his type of hair because he wanted to dye it pastel blue.”

“Or pink.” Patton corrected sheepishly. “We will not treat you any less seriously if that’s what you are worried about, kiddo.” He assured.

“And whether we treat you differently all depends on how soft it is because if it is, I will stroke it.” Roman admitted with his signature excited sass.

Virgil listened to their honesty, avoiding all eye contact and smiling into the covers slightly. Why was he even worried?

“Can we see it again?” Patton asked once more after a while.

Virgil hesitated a bit. If all of that is true then there is really no harm in showing them. Slowly, he slid the cover off onto his shoulders, still avoiding eye contact with the others but he could see Roman’s growing smile and feel Patton’s hug tighten, but not uncomfortably.

A small gasp escaped Roman who, once again, was almost vibrating from excitement. He was clearly restraining himself when he asked, “Can I touch it?”

Virgil didn’t answer but leaned his head slightly forwards, silently saying ‘yes’.

Roman quickly but carefully reached out and placed his hand on Virgil’s puff of hair. Slowly he weaved his fingers through the curls as carefully as if he was dealing with flower petals.

“Can I too?” Patton asked, releasing Virgil from the long hug, who looked at him and nodded.

Mimicking Roman’s actions, Patton squealed when he felt the soft locks.

“THEY FEEL LIKE CLOUDS!!” He whisper - shouted, breathless from his growing excitement.

“I must ask however, how is it that you are the only side with such hair type?” Logan asked, coming closer to, but still avoiding, the mess of Patton’s and Roman’s excitement that was pouring over Virgil’s head. Virgil just shrugged in response, too busy focusing on the others’ movements more than on the question he didn’t even know the answer to. Instead, Patton got up, grabbed Logan’s hand and moved him closer until he could drop it onto Virgil’s head.

“Wow. That... is soft.” He stated very matter-of-factly.

After Patton let go of his hand to stroke the hair himself, Logan wasn’t sure what to do so he drew it back and went back to staring at the others. If he could feel emotions, he would be happy right now. (Pretty sure he didn’t realise he was smiling slightly.)

“Ok, this is starting to get a bit weird...” Virgil started after a while. The other two pouted instantly but drew their hands away.

“Your hair is SOO soft! Hope you realise I will stroke your head every chance I get.” Roman forebode, still admiring it, “I apologise in advance.”

“If that’s ok with you, kiddo, I will as well.” Patton added, smiling of course.

“Please don’t do it all the time.” Virgil answered. He didn’t want to make it obvious that he secretly liked it - feeling loved like that felt nice.

“However you never said we may not.” Logan pointed out. Roman grinned at Virgil and quickly said, “Let’s go eat before he changes his mind.”

“Yeah... I’m kinda hungry anyway.” Virgil got up from his duvet bunker and walked with the others to the dinning room.

From then on, he no longer had to wake up early just to do his hair and Patton and Roman would stroke his head as hello when they saw him. It was a much better ending than Virgil theorised, but then again, it often was. Either way, he no longer felt had to hide his true self.

He was happy.

#sander sides #virgil sanders #anxiety sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #sanders sides fic #sanders sides #incorrect sander sides #sander sides fic #x writes #x's thoughts and other stuffs

[lolcat76]

i need, pretty please, from the bottom of my soul, some fic from the Brenda/Sharon Christmas ep. FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY SOUL.

Here you go, Anonymous Who Is Definitely Not Mia:

Despite the grim case and the cancelled plans, the Christmas dinner turned out to be a cheerful affair, which Sharon credited to Willie Rae’s liberal use of bourbon in the candied yams. And the apple pie. And the eggnog.

And, frankly, the flask that Clay was pouring thimblefuls into paper cups in the corner with Provenza and Pope, poorly shielded by a coat rack. Men. Honestly. Between her coworkers and the never-ending parade of Ricky’s high school friends in her living room, she was sick to death of men.

“Having fun?”

Well, not all men.

Andy Flynn hovered behind her, far enough to maintain plausible deniability, but close enough that his whispered breath sent a little shiver down her spine. Disappointed as she was about not spending Christmas with her parents and children, she wasn’t terribly upset about plan B, a night without interruptions with the man currently trying to twist his fingers in her hair.

“Stop it,” she said, brushing his hand away, but her words lacked their usual bite. After all, everyone except Fritz and Andy was three sheets to the wind – in a government building, no less, and she the ranking Professional Standards officer, good LORD, it was a good thing she was feeling festive and had better plans for the evening than writing disciplinary reports – and nobody seemed to give a damn what she was doing, or with whom she was doing it.

It was a little Christmas miracle.

“Tell you what,” he said, his voice low and smooth and his breath warm in her ear, “I’ll stop it here if you meet me at your place in half an hour so we can start it there.”

“Smooth,” she purred, and he laughed. “Go say your goodbyes and I’ll do the same.”

As Andy began his circuit, she made her way toward the break room to gather her purse and suitcase. A quick thank you and goodbye to Brenda’s parents, and she’d be on her way. Christmas would be saved after all.

“Oh, Sharon!” Willie Rae’s voice rose over the din of what sounded like an argument about collard greens between Buzz and Sanchez, and Sharon heaved a sigh. It was almost as if this Christmas had it in for her. She was going to have to go to an extra confession or two if this kept up. But first she was going to have to gracefully dodge her hosts so that she could get home and do some sinning worthy of a confession. She shrugged into her jacket, hoping to politely convey that she needed to be somewhere that was most definitely not here.

No such luck. Sharon couldn’t tell if Willie Rae had also had a few too many sips of the nog, or if this was just how Southern women were.Until this week, Brenda had been Sharon’s only example of a Southern Belle, and it didn’t take a sociologist to figure out that Brenda was an outlier. “I told Brenda Leigh that we talked all about our traditions when she was growing up,and do you know, Brenda Leigh couldn’t tell us a thing what your family did when you were a little girl. What kind of things do you girls talk about, anyway?”

Either her flaws or mine, depending on the day and the division on point. “Oh, you know. Man trouble.” Behind her mother, the Chief chokedon her wine, and Sharon suppressed a smirk. Let Brenda Leigh stew on that for a while. “We used to go see the Rockette Christmas Spectacular every year when I was growing up. My sister and I desperately wanted to be Rockettes when we grew up.”

“You’ve got the legs for it.”

Sharon sighed. He certainly had a knack for popping up at inopportune moments. “Thank you for the compliment, Lieutenant Flynn,” shehissed, “and if you ever say something like that in my presence again, I’ll have you in harassment training until you retire.”

With a swat on the arm and a “Bad boy!”, Willie Rae dismissed Flynn before turning back to Sharon and her childhood Christmas wishes. “ARockette! Oh, how lovely. How do you go from being a Rockette to being a policeofficer?” She had her hands clasped against her chest as if Sharon had just told her the baby Jesus himself had come down to compliment her sweater. Sharon had never seen anyone so delighted by the Rockettes, and she’d taken dance classes for fifteen years in the suburbs of New York City.

“Well, for starters, I was about ten at the time. Also, my sister found out that she was too short to be a Rockette and made me swear thatI would never audition since she couldn’t.” Sharon smiled at the memory ofDana, five feet and one inch of red hair and righteous fury, making her pinky-swear to give up her dreams of sequins and tights. “But what really did it is that I found out how much a Rockette gets paid. A police officer’s salaryseems extravagant by comparison.”

Willie Rae laughed, but the rest of the group stared at her, some open-mouthed and others, like Gabriel, slowly backing away. She shrugged. It certainly wasn’t her fault that the rest of the LAPD had forgotten that shewas, in fact, a human woman who had had a human childhood with human desiresand dreams. Well, bah humbug to them. She had better things to do than to provethe existence of her soul to these people. “Thank you for dinner, Willie Rae,but I have an early flight tomorrow. I hope we’ll see you back in LA soon, though.”

Willie Rae pulled her into a hug, and Sharon patted her back. She really was a lovely woman, and it was nice to have a mother’s hug onChristmas, even if it wasn’t her own.  Onimpulse, she kissed Willie Rae’s cheek, then pulled away, eager to make hergetaway before she let the Christmas spirit get the best of her emotions.

Chief Johnson grabbed the handle of Sharon’s suitcase. “I’ll walk you out.”

“So close,” Sharon muttered. She followed behind Brenda, two sets of heels clacking in the empty hallway.

“Thanks, Captain, for your help.”

Well, that was a first. “It’s my job, Chief. I’m just glad we could close the case.”

“No, I mean thank you for your help with my mother. She doesn’t get to meet many of my friends, and she took a shine to you all right.I appreciate it.”

Sharon blinked, at a loss for words. There was that f-word again, being thrown around awfully casually today. “You’re welcome. I enjoyedit. You know, your mother is quite the cook.”

“I know. Her sweet potatoes are the best part of Christmas.”

Truly, they were spectacular, Sharon had to admit. “I thought you said the marshmallows were burned.”

“Well,” Brenda shrugged, a smile making its way across her face. “I happen to like my marshmallows kinda burned.” She pushed the suitcase to Sharon and waved awkwardly. “See you after the break.”

“Merry Christmas,” Sharon called after her, “and-“

“I know,” came Brenda’s voice from down the hall, “Happy, HAPPY New Year!”

#sharon raydor #brenda johnson #andy flynn #shandy #the closer fic #the closer #shandy fic #thanks @blossom--of--snow for the beta #did y'all miss me? #I missed you #and these crazy kids having secret sex during The Closer #Anonymous

[iluvsexyvoltageguys]

Bad Romance - Part 7

Fandom: Scandal in the Spotlight (Love 365)

Pairing: Iori x Reader

In the days following your post-concert hook up with Iori you felt… surprisingly good. Maybe it was the little mantra you adopted or an extra dose of wishful thinking, but you felt you had a good handle on yours and Iori’s relationship. Using the term ‘relationship’ very loosely, of course.

You felt so good, in fact, that you didn’t even bat an eye when Kyohei asked you to go out to dinner with him, his girlfriend, and Iori. You were more than happy to oblige, paying no mind to Iori being in attendance.

When you arrived at the restaurant, the hostess informed you part of your party was already there. You were excited to join Kyohei and his girlfriend, but that was not who you found waiting at the table.

“Oh, it’s you,” Iori frowned as you sat down across from him.

“Nice to see you too,” you grumbled, checking the time.

You had been running late yourself, so Kyohei was extra late. Kyohei was never late. Left to his own devices he’s been known to stroll in well beyond the agreed upon time. An awkward silence fell between the two of you as you waited for your friends to arrive. “God I hope they come soon.” You thought to yourself.

Like clockwork, both of your phones went off. It was a message from Kyohei. ‘Hey guys so sorry. Something came up, we are going to have to cancel’

You let out a groan. You traveled all the way across town to get to this restaurant and you hadn’t bothered picking up any food for tonight since you planned on eating out. Trekking all the way back to your place just to be met by an empty fridge was not ideal. You and Iori looked up at each as if to say, ‘now what?’

“Fuck it,” Iori said finally, picking up a menu, “I’m hungry and I’m staying. Stay if you want.”

You picked up the menu, telling him, “I’m staying for the food, not the company.”

Iori half grunted, before you both buried your heads into the menus. That made it easy, you had something to shield yourself from him. You were able to occupy yourself with reading the selection of food, making the silence slightly less awkward. However, the waitress eventually came, taking your orders and the menus along with them.

With no barrier between the two of you, you were forced to look at each other.

You decided you weren’t about to sit uncomfortably for an entire meal, but you had no idea what to say. Did you and Iori even have anything in common? You really didn’t know. You guessed that would be a good start…

“You know I really don’t know anything about you,” you said, settling back into your seat. You had a feeling it was going to be an interesting night.

“I think you made a point to not know anything about me,” Iori replied, raising a brow at you. Fair point.

“Maybe so,” you replied, “But now I am making a point to know.”

“And where is this sudden interest coming from?” he questioned, taking a sip of his water.

Of course he wasn’t going to make this easy. “I don’t know, figure I should know more than just the name of the person I’m hooking up with.”

“Didn’t seem to care that much about anything else in that closet,” Iori smirked. You rolled your eyes, wondering if it was too late to get your food to go.

“Maybe I don’t wanna just sit here in silence the whole night,” you snapped, “But if you’re gonna be a dick about it…”

“Alright, alright,” Iori put his hands up, “Just having some fun.”

Clearly the two of you had very different definitions of fun.

“What do you wanna know?”

You shrugged, “Whatever you think is important.”

“Hmm, well I went to the University-”

“No,” you shook your head, “That I know.”

“A man can’t be proud of his accomplishments?” he questioned.

“He can, but this isn’t about what you’re proud of, it’s about you,” you reminded him, “What about your family?”

You were still a little curious about him and his father. You knew Kyohei said it was like that a lot, but you were wondering just how bad it was. If he would even tell you.

“Well you met my dad,” he replied simply.

You sensed he was guarded, which didn’t really surprise you. It seemed like a touchy subject and you weren’t exactly someone he had a history of confiding in. “I wouldn’t exactly say met,” you said, “More like he grunted in my direction and then completely ignored me.”

“That’s as good as meeting him,” Iori sighed, “Better off keeping your distance from him. I wish I could.” Iori paused, almost like he surprised himself with his own words. “That probably sounds really shitty.”

“No I get it,” you shook your head, “I wouldn’t put my dad up for father of the year award either.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well my parents divorced,” you began, “Shortly after he started a new family and had more kids. I guess he was so busy being a father to them he forgot about his first child.”

It felt kind of weird to be so personal with Iori, but it was also kind of natural. Maybe it was because he would understand the crappy dad struggle, but it was easy to open up to him about it, even if it was something you didn’t talk to most about.

“Sounds like an asshole,” Iori replied.

From anyone else you would have thought it was just a half-assed response because they didn’t know what to say, but from Iori… it was comforting. It was sincere, you knew he understood.

“You got that right,” you sighed, reaching for your glass, “Here’s to surviving shitty dads.” Iori laughed, picking up his glass and clinking it against yours.

From there, the conversation flowed a lot more naturally. Who knew all it took was bad father figures to bring people together? You learned Iori had a younger brother and their mom left when he was younger. The only thing he knew how to cook in any fashion was scrambled eggs.

“Okay maybe I’m using the term cook loosely,” he chuckled at himself.

You were also laughing a lot more than you thought you would. Iori was funny when he wasn’t being an ass. It was pretty easy to bounce off him, your sense of humor jiving really well. You even found your walls coming down a bit as you told him more about yourself. You think this was the longest you’ve ever talked to him without someone making a snide comment or an argument starting.

“Hope you enjoyed your date,” your waitress smiled, placing the check down.

“It’s not a date,” you both replied immediately.

Your faces flushed red, the waitress laughing lightly and apologizing. An innocent comment, but it made the energy shift, injecting an awkwardness between the two of you that had finally dissipated.

“Let’s go,” Iori huffed, tossing down money on the table. You both jumped up, making a beeline for the door. Once outside, you both turned to each other, hovering on the sidewalk. Not even the din of the city street could eat through the tense silence.

It sort of did feel like a date, at least right now it did. It was like he had walked you to your door after a night out and now you were both waiting for someone to make a move. You could practically feel the pull towards him, wondering how bad a kiss could be.

“Kyohei would be proud we didn’t kill each other,” you blurted out suddenly, trying to banish that thought from your mind.

“Your hand got close to that knife a few times, honestly it had me sweating,” Iori joked, though there was a hint of tenseness in his voice.

“Not to worry, if I was gonna kill you it wouldn’t be in public like that.” God what were you saying? He probably thought you sounded crazy… and since when did you care about how you sounded to Iori.

“So it would be a bad idea to ask you to come back to my place?” Iori asked. You eye him suspiciously. That was a trap, right? He wanted to see if you were interested in coming back with him so he could tease you about wanting to fuck him or something.

“But the other guys…” your voice trailed off. It was the safest thing to say until you knew if he was for real.

“The guys are not there and Kyohei got a hotel room this time,” Iori told you, “Something about wanting some privacy from an annoying roommate?” A crooked smile played at his lips as he spoke.

“I know the struggle,” you chuckled. It got quiet again and you realized he was waiting for an answer. “Sure I’ll go back to your place… I’ve got nothing better to do.” You added the last part to not seem too eager.

“Pfft, I’m the best thing you could do,” he smirked.

You rolled your eyes, pushing past him, “We’ll see about that.”

Iori followed behind you and you were happy to not have to make conversation. What did two people who didn’t like each other talk about on their way to have sex with each other? You certainly didn’t know.

No feelings, just sex. No feelings, just sex.

You reminded yourself as you walked up to the house. It was weird, you’d never planned to have sex before, it had always just happened. You were entering uncharted territory and you wondered if it would be different.

Your mind wasn’t able to wander too long, the second you were through the door Iori was pulling you on to him. Your lips crashed together, tripping over each other as you made your way to the bedroom. You fell to the bed on top of each other, hands slipping under each other’s shirts. The clothes came off quickly, piling up on the floor. His hand slid between your legs, rubbing at your still-clothed pussy. You could tell by the smirk on his face you were soaked through them.

“Been a while since I made you cum on my fingers,” he mused, sliding your underwear down your legs, “I seem to recall you enjoying that.”

“It was okay,” you voice strained as he ran a finger up your slit. He slipped a finger into you, relishing how your back arched at his touch. He pumped his fingers into you as you writhed beneath him.

“That’s it baby, fuck my fingers,” Iori coaxed as you rolled your hips. It almost got past you that he called you baby. Almost. You decided to compartmentalize that and address it later - the pressure building between your legs making it too difficult to think of anything else anyway.

Your orgasm hit you seconds after his thumb found your clit. “Fuck,” you cried out, not expecting the pleasure that was suddenly lighting up every nerve ending in your body.

“As good as I remember,” Iori smirked, stepping back to rid himself of his own clothing. You rubbed your thighs together as you watched him strip down to his boxers, antsy to have him inside you.

Iori’s eyes locked on to yours, making your stomach do a flip. A sudden wave of anxiety rushed over you. God the way he was looking at you, it was different. It felt weird, but right, yet also so wrong. His fingertips ghosting across your thighs was just too… intimate. Like yes sex was an intimate act in general, but it was just… too much. You weren’t like that with Iori. You couldn’t be like that with Iori.

You flipped yourself over, getting on your hands and knees. “Take me like this,” you demanded, wiggling your ass at him. You wanted the least romance as possible.

Iori didn’t seem to mind. “Oh- fuck - yeah okay.” You heard him say before you felt the bed sink under the weight of his body. The head of his cock teased at your entrance, coating himself in your wetness.

“Don’t fucking tease,” you hissed as the throbbing between your legs grew to be near unbearable.

“Needy one tonight,” he replied, his hands finding your hips.

“Oh,” you let out a low gasp as Iori pushed inside you. The new angle allowed him to press deeper into you, making your eyes roll back even after just a few strokes.

“God you feel so fucking good right now,” Iori groaned between the slaps of your hips meeting.

“Harder,” you told him, ignoring that sort of compliment from Iori. That was a rarity from him and you didn’t want to play into it too much. A compliment was too close to intimate.

Suddenly there was a hand in your hair, yanking your head back. You let out a sharp moan as Iori followed your instructions, pounding into you. “You like when I fuck you like this? You want me to be rough with you?” he growled nipping at your ear. That’s definitely not romantic and it’s perfect.

“Yeah - fuck- give it to me Iori,” you moaned, pressing back on him further. He gripped your hips tighter and you could practically feel the bruises forming. The two of you fell silent, the sound of your wetness as Iori fucked you filling the room. It was borderline pornographic sounding but it was so hot.

You were close, but you needed more. You reached down, rubbing fast circles over your clit.

“Are you touching yourself? Fuck that’s so hot,” Iori said breathlessly.

You couldn’t even get a response out, hit with a second orgasm. All your muscles tensed before relaxing in a euphoric release. You gripped his sheets, desperate for something to hold onto as he fucked you through your high. Iori was right there with you, his cock twitching inside you as he came.

Iori slid out of you when you both finished and you let out a soft gasp from the loss of contact. He got up and you began to shift through the clothes on the floor, looking for yours. Iori pulled on sweats and a shirt, flopping down on the bed as you got redressed.

“Stay,” his voice was so soft you almost didn’t hear it. You turned around, finding a very sleepy Iori batting his eyes at you. Did he really just… That was a bad idea. A really bad idea.

Yet there you were, pulling your jeans back off, leaving you in just your underwear and the shirt you came in. You crawled into bed next to him, the warmth of his body slightly putting your nerves at ease. This is wrong, you thought, but god it feels right.

“_____?” Iori murmured from behind you. He scooted closer to you, becoming your big spoon.

“Yeah?” you replied, not looking back at him.

“I..” his voice trailed off and for a second you thought he had fallen asleep, “I hate you still.”

You couldn’t help but laugh lightly as your stomach filled with butterflies. It was stupid, but the way he said it, the pure fondness in the tone of his voice told you that isn’t what he meant.

“I hate you too,” you repeated the contrary sentiment clear in your voice.

Iori’s arms tightened around you as you both drifted to sleep without another word.

SITS Masterlist

#scandal in the spotlight smut #sits smut #iori enjo smut #voltage inc fanfiction #voltage inc smut #scandal in the spotlight #sits #iori enjo

[disarmingly]

day 364

yoongi holds jungkook's hand, threads their fingers even though this isn't how you play the piano -- not really -- and smiles. the room is blue. the piano is brown, old, and forgiving. and jungkook? well.

jungkook is bright.

though it's midnight. though it's dark. though it's hard to see, but --

-- never him.

that is, it's never hard to see jungkook; that is, it's never hard to know: he's there.

(he's here. right here.)

yoongi holds jungkook's hand. jungkook holds his hand back. until yoongi lets go just to hold on in a different way, just to kiss his hands across the keys he knows better than almost anything else, just to say what he's said before and will say again.

day 10

there's a boy with a leaf in his hair. he's laughing wide and open and even with all his light yoongi can tell before he even really meets him: there's some bad weather inside.

not that that's a problem per se.

everyone has bad weather.

yoongi knows this better than anyone.

"who's that?" hoseok asks and it's a curious, warm tone that yoongi has come to associate with his friend the way other people associate sunshine with good days. he shrugs.

"don't know."

and, well. he doesn't.

yet.

"but he has a leaf in his hair."  yoongi says, even though what he's actually thinking is: but he's singing.

he can barely hear him from here -- obscured by the din of people passing by.

it seems a shame.

yoongi doesn't know why.

day 87

jeon jungkook is breaking into min yoongi's locker. or rather, he's unlocking it with the given combination (thank you kim namjoon) on a mission that makes his hands shake and his heart flip and his stomach just a little unsettled. jungkook has a leaf on his shoulder and a cassette tape in his pocket and a weight in his hopes like something not-yet started, like a thing that wants badly badly badly --

-- to grow. a thing that grows. maybe a thing with leaves that fall into his hair or on his shoulder or into his palm riddled with bandaids and good intentions.

"there," he says and the cassette nestles in the otherwise empty silence of yoongi's locker like it's still trying to be a secret. but it's not. "you're not," jungkook tells it. and then, more quietly than ever, to the only one there: "you're not."

day 17

"nice to meet you," yoongi says and jungkook says it back and they stare at each other so long that seokjin bursts into laughter. then he and yoongi get into a petty argument that makes jungkook laugh too. then namjoon laughs. later, when they hear about it, hoseok laughs and jimin laughs and taehyung laughs. at some point, enough of them end up with jungkook's number that it's a moot point that yoongi isn't one of them, at the time.

day 91

"wake up."

jungkook half hums half moans and turns on his side, burying his face in his arms and the grass.

"hey."

jungkook swats at the sound.

"jeon jungkook."

for some reason, that's what gets him to roll on his back and force his own eyes open. someone is leaning over him, face unnervingly close. someone is--

--holy shit it's yoongi.

jungkook sort of not quite squawks. he maybe yelps or not quite screams. it ends up sounding like a wounded animal honestly, and he tries his best to press himself so hard into the ground it might swallow him up (ideally) but it doesn't so he's just left staring into the perplexed cat eyes of min yoongi -- min yoongi who sighs, seemingly unfazed, and says simply,

"this is you."

a cassette tape materializes between their faces, and jungkook goes cross-eyed.

"um."

"did you write it?"

"um."

"um?"

a second passes. two seconds. three. jungkook raises his hand to gently push yoongi's hand down, just to peer at him while also trying not to look too hopeful, just to say,

"if you...if you liked it...yes. if you didn't….then i don't know what you're talking about."

the way he smiles makes his eyes close and crinkle at the corners. for some reason, it reminds yoongi of an expression people sometimes make when they cry; for some reason, it hurts.

there is a leaf in jungkook's hair today too.

"there's a leaf in your hair," he says.

jungkook feels around for it, finds it, then places it in the tousled dark silver of yoongi's hair instead, admires how the flicker of light against the green thieves along the gray so nicely.

day 92

jungkook asks yoongi to play the song "the way i wanted it to sound."

yoongi says, "what makes you think i know?"

and jungkook just smiles -- a disarming quirk of his mouth that barely shows his teeth and ends in a duck of his head. yoongi already knows this means he's self-conscious; yoongi already knows he's going to touch the back of his neck and shift his weight; yoongi knows. so maybe he's answering his own question as he sits down at the piano, feels rather than sees jungkook behind him and punctuates it all with his own slow shrug.

that afternoon is blue. and peaceful. filled with music, late rain, and one umbrella.

day 80

"do you think he'll like it?" jungkook blows a dandelion's wishes out and up against the wide sky where the clouds keep changing shape; changing meaning. jungkook looks over his shoulder; waits. with his eyes closed, kim namjoon looks asleep but he's not asleep and jungkook knows it. he thinks the sun loves his dear friend, his first crush, this person who is so much more than himself; even if jungkook is the only one between the two of them who can see this.

"i think so," namjoon says eventually and jungkook likes this. how namjoon doesn't lie to him, doesn't make it sound more hopeful or less likely either; just says the truth.

"mm." jungkook hums part of the song. misses how namjoon softly opens his eyes just to look at his profile and gently puzzle into memory the way jungkook seems at home against a backdrop of sky as much as with his feet on the earth.

day 201

probably, jungkook shouldn't have come to school today. probably. but he does. jungkook comes to school, lets himself into yoongi's locker, and does what he always does on the first day of the month.

later, when jungkook lies bedridden in the infirmary, a cold cloth over his forehead, he's vaguely aware of a weight making the cot sink. he's vaguely aware of callused fingers threading with his before letting go just to run through his sweat matted hair instead. he's vaguely aware:

as yoongi draws the curtain and kisses him on the nose, kisses him and whispers,

"don't be so stupid."

day 365

"why did they even introduce us," yoongi muses, his brow furrowed as he keeps hitting the same piano key, unsure if he's having an off day or if the piano genuinely needs tuning again. with his arms under his chin, head tilted to the side, jungkook just smiles. says,

"i don't remember."

yoongi hits the key again. decides it sounds right after all. resumes the -- no; their song.

even with his eyes closed, jungkook keeps smiling.

day 110

"what's this?"

jungkook squints at the cassette tape. it's not the one he gave yoongi -- thankfully.

"it's my answer." yoongi stares at him and it's dry at the same time that it's kind; jungkook isn't sure how.

"but, um," and jungkook flushes up to the tips of his ears even while he less than subtly leans in and down to mumble, "you already answered me hyung." yoongi's brow raises.

"this is just the rest."

jungkook's heart does...something. does it hurt? does it fly? does it just keep beating the same and everything else is all in his head? oh, he thinks.

"oh," he says.

oh.

"okay."

day 247

walking along the train tracks, jungkook holds both his arms out wide like wings. yoongi follows in his trail, hands shoved in his pockets, black boots kicking debris even when they don't mean to. the sunset is beautiful and they both know it without really noticing: the bleed of pink into purple into blue into gray at a distance, feathered with stars.

by the time yoongi walks him home, it's far past midnight, but the darkness does nothing to obscure the boxes piled up in the jeon living room and garage. it says a lot about both of them the way they just stand there until yoongi reaches out and pulls a stray leaf from jungkook's hair.

it's grown rather long. jungkook jokes that he'll grow it chin length or longer. yoongi has been daring him as much before returning to what he really means which is 'do what you want' which also means 'you'd look good whatever you did' which also means 'because it's you'.

only now does it occur to yoongi he won't get to see it either way.

it's this and other thoughts that let him draw jungkook close to him -- jungkook who smells like the ocean they went to this morning and the forest they walked the train tracks to this evening and the motion of going away without wanting to.

and it's not that yoongi is surprised he cares; he's known for a while exactly the extent of his love.

but  it is a little bit of a surprise to find that while he can feel jungkook tremble, he can feel himself shake too.

just enough. just the right wrong amount.

(don't go.)

into jungkook's jacket pocket, yoongi slips a cassette. the he pulls him down so he can kiss his forehead, pushes his hands back through jungkook's hair, laces his fingers there and murmurs,

"be good."

means: to yourself.

day 221

"if we could stay like this, it would be nice."

yoongi has his arms around jungkook, a leg thrown over him for no reason other than the fact that he can and he wants to and it's not as though jungkook has objections. jungkook has his head tucked under yoongi's chin and is trying not to be weird about how much he likes the way yoongi smells but some things are just the way they are. and yoongi already knows anyway. still. yoongi is quiet long enough jungkook thinks maybe he's fallen asleep. but then his arms tighten and loosen just to draw a hand back to fit along jungkook's jaw. yoongi leans and angles enough to let himself kiss jungkook's closed eyes and his faint scar from childhood and the mole under his lips and the corner of his jaw. says,

"yeah. it would."

day 260

texting and emails aren't the same. facetime isn't the same. but what it comes down to is the mundane truth of everyday obstacles: something is better than nothing. and yoongi finds happiness: in the appearance of the bunny emoji in his notifications. jungkook finds hope: in the clip of notes tread through thrice on a piano and once in yoongi's own voice he loves so much. they find enough; they make the time. because this isn't a sad story or a happy story or an easy story or a hard story. this is just their story.

so they do what only they would do.

much later, namjoon notes to yoongi that that's what freedom is. and yoongi who wants the same freedom for namjoon but doesn't know how to give that to him, hums his agreement and ruffles his hair. says,

"probably."

day 299

things yoongi expects: jungkook's call, jungkook's text messages, jungkook's photos. thing yoongi does not expect: jungkook looking like a drowned puppy at his front door.  

by the time jungkook emerges from the shower, a towel drapes over his head, yoongi has emptied his wallet and precariously perched things to dry on the counter. jungkook's sneakers are drying on the floor next to yoongi's boots.

"good thing i kept some stuff here," jungkook laughs and it's nervous. yoongi doesn't understand why he's nervous, but sometimes it's enough to notice it's happening at all.

"come here." he hooks an arm around jungkook's waist and pulls him back, leans his cheek against jungkook's spine and sighs. "explain."

the laughter peters out. then, slowly, softly, softly:

"hey yoongi hyung."

"hm?"

"happy birthday."

maybe it's the way jungkook raises yoongi's hands to kiss them fingertips first. maybe it's the way he turns in yoongi's arms just to slide his own over yoongi's shoulders and draw them nose-to-nose. maybe it's the fact that yoongi himself didn't remember it was his own birthday but jungkook not only did but also planned for it -- the way you do...when you care.

he's so surprised, he forgets to say thank-you until some time later. but jungkook just giggles and laughs, tells him 'don't thank me for that'. then he sings him something only yoongi would understand and yoongi kisses him because that’s a ‘thank-you’ too and he’s not about to put up with this hypocrisy. 

day 1

the afternoon of the first day of Spring, a boy lifts his head to look towards the music building, as surprised as he is charmed and whispers to himself,

"...oh." and, quieter, "i know this song."  

and maybe he's imagining it; maybe.

but the piano seems to answer back: i know you too.

*

#yoonkook #sugakookie #my moon and my stars #prompt fill #how i said i love you #through a song #months later emerging with questionable material i guess but everything is a struggle and the only thing worse than bad work is no work #lolololol #haku shut up #maybe youre my moonlight #maybe youre my starshine #maybe maybe youre mine