#'hey how would Din handle that'

[the-mandawhor1an]

I've been thinking about how Din would react if Maia told him she's pregnant.

[yazmarina]

dime, ¿esto es lo que tú quería'?

charles leclerc and oscar piastri x fem!reader

how about a reward for monaco's p1 and p2?

warnings/notes: smut, threesome, a blowjob, slight degradation, dirty talk, unprotected sex (wrap it up, people!!!), cumshot, creampie, gagging, light choking

a/n: very ambitious and would not set me free until i wrote it...so please enjoy <3

.

You really had no idea how you ended up here.

Arthur is a good friend of yours, having met him when you first came to work for Ferrari under the communication department, mostly being assigned to handle the Academy and development drivers' communication needs. You and Arthur got on well, and eventually, you were hanging out with him and his other friends on the weekends.

The two of you were strictly friendly, something you've had to clear out multiple times to work superiors, nosy colleagues, insistent reporters, you name it.

Arthur isn't your type, point blank, period.

His older brother was a different topic altogether.

Charles was sensitive, artistic, a prince charming in all aspects. Being in close proximity to Arthur meant you spent some time with Charles, too, but those were few and far between and every time you were within five feet of Charles, you were reduced to a tongue-tied mess.

Regardless, Arthur insisted you come along to the celebrations after Charles' most recent win in Monaco.

"Charles knows who you are and you're my friend. He won't mind," Arthur pleaded earlier that day as you were packing up after the podium celebrations.

"What if you go running off and I'm left alone?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I won't go running off," Arthur promised. "I'll be with you the whole night. I'll even help you look for a guy you can go home with!"

And yet you're here in the present, sitting on a couch in the VIP section, alone.

Well, not really. You're surrounded by people but none of them are talking to you. Arthur had gone to get more drinks half an hour ago and you know by now that he probably was sidetracked by other friends or something to that effect.

You have half a mind to call it a night, your hand already reaching for your purse, when you hear a voice call out.

"________! You're here!"

You look up and your heart seems to jump right into your throat.

Charles is beaming down at you, a flag of Monaco draped around his shoulders, his previously styled hair now sticking up in all directions.

You caught a glimpse of Charles earlier when you arrived with Arthur, but the race winner was too busy doing shots for you to have properly said hi.

But he's here now. And he's sliding into the space beside you.

"Where's Arthur?" Charles asks, reaching for an unopened Heineken on the table in front of you.

"I have no idea," you half-yell, leaning closer so Charles could hear. You feel goosebumps erupt on your skin when Charles lays a tentative hand on your back.

"You can spend time with me, then," Charles grins, moving his arm further so it fully wraps around your shoulders.

A nervous laugh escapes you but your instinct is to lean even further into Charles' touch. He's still smiling at you, though clearly inebriated with the way his eyes seem out of focus.

"Ah, Oscar!"

You turn your head to see the other third of the podium finishers, Osar Piastri himself.

"Hey!" he calls over the din of the music. "I can't find anyone! I think they just abandoned me," Oscar adds, laughing.

He takes the seat on your left, effectively sandwiching you between him and Charles. You smile politely at Oscar, reaching your hand out.

"Hi, I'm ______," you say, smiling wider as Oscar takes your hand in his and squeezes.

"I'm Oscar," he says then pauses, realizing that you probably already knew who he was if you were any friend of Charles'. He laughs, practically giggles, hiding his face in his hand.

"Sorry, I see you around the paddock sometimes, so I probably didn't need to do that," Oscar explains, cheeks turning pink, or at least you think they do, given that the lighting in this club is atrocious.

Oscar is still holding your hand and you can tell that he's tipsy too by the way he's smiling, eyes hooded and sleepy-looking.

"________ is part of communications in Ferrari," Charles explains, rubbing his thumb over the exposed skin of your shoulder. You turn to look at Charles, and the way he gazes back at you, a half smile on his lips, breath hot on your cheek, has your heart pounding incessantly against your chest.

"She's very efficient," Charles praises with a chuckle. "I like seeing her around when she works."

You make a move to swat at Charles' thigh as if to tell him off. "Stop it, I'm not at enough races for you to see me that often."

You're laughing, mostly in disbelief at the words that just came out of Charles' mouth. He likes seeing you around?

Charles shrugs. "But when you are, I notice."

You feel your neck heat up and even more so when Charles maneuvers you closer, seemingly protective. If you moved any more, you'd be on Charles' lap.

Oscar eyes the two of you and you'd give anything to read the thoughts in his head right now. The younger man locks eyes with you and smiles, sweetly at first, but then his pupils glance down briefly at your chest, barely covered by the tube top you decided to don for the evening.

The sweetness quickly melts away as Oscar bites his lip.

"You're close, then?" Oscar asks casually, scooting closer to you and Charles.

"Arthur and her are good friends," Charles points out.

"So I guess by default, _______ and I are good friends, too."

You laugh and Oscar is grinning once more at you, and god does he look handsome under these lights. You can tell that he wants to come even closer, his fingers tapping nervously on his knee. Some slow song is playing over the speakers, bass loaded and making the entire place vibrate.

You reach out, laying a hand on Oscar's thigh, squeezing just enough to get the point across.

Oscar looks over at Charles and you follow his line of sight, seeing some sort of unspoken agreement cross the two drivers.

Charles dips his head, moving even closer to you. He breathes out right next to your ear and you shiver.

"Ma chèrie," he begins. "I think we need to take this somewhere else."

You turn to look at Charles, blood roaring in your ears. "What?"

Charles looks straight into your eyes as if searching for something. He rubs a soothing hand down your back, letting it settle on your waist.

"You want to, no?" Charles asks, momentarily glancing up at Oscar. "With me and him?"

You feel a rush of excitement course through you. Surely, this isn't happening. The idea of Charles bringing you home crossed your mind briefly the moment he touched you earlier, but that's as far as you allowed yourself to imagine. But the remnants of alcohol in your system and the intoxicating atmosphere of the club must have gotten to you with the way you so brazenly made a move on Oscar.

And now you reap what you sow.

"We can hang out at my place," Oscar throws out nonchalantly as if he was simply inviting you and Charles to more drinks at his apartment.

"I just moved in and it could use a little...housewarming," Oscar adds with a pointed look.

Charles bursts out laughing, leaning down to press a kiss to your shoulder before nuzzling into the side of your neck. You glance around, hyperaware that all eyes have been on Charles the whole night, and for sure it isn't any different now.

"Andiamo," Charles whispers. "We'll make it good."

Let's go. Your months of Italian as a prerequisite to working in Ferrari barely register with you now.

Oscar slips his own hand over your thigh, his large palm covering an expanse of your skin.

"You'll love the view from my balcony," Oscar offers, tilting his head towards you. He smiles, innocent and sweet once more, simultaneously squeezing at the flesh of your thigh.

You bite your lip, suppressing whatever sounds that threatened to come out.

-

You thought you'd never make it out of the car ride to Oscar's place.

Oscar had brought his own ride and being much, much more sober than both you and Charles, he took the initiative to drive. You and Charles piled into the backseat, giggling.

"Not fair, you guys," Oscar teased from the front, eyeing you through the rearview mirror. Charles merely snickers, hands sneaking up over your chest as you settle on his lap.

"Eyes on the road, Oscar," Charles ordered, yanking your top down, exposing yourself fully to Oscar. You gasped, the cold air of the air-conditioning lending to the stiffening of your nipples. Charles began to toy with them, pinching and rolling them between his fingers, reducing you to a speechless mess. You noticed just how hard Oscar was gripping the steering wheel, tight enough that his knuckles were drained of color.

You barely had time to cover yourself back up once you got to Oscar's place, with Charles tugging you out of the car as soon as Oscar killed the ignition. The younger of the two comes around to your side of the car as you and Charles stumble out. Oscar takes your hand in his and leans down briefly to kiss you, tongue darting out to lick at the seam of your lips.

Oscar pulls away, sending Charles a look. "I was on the podium, too, mate."

"Ah, sorry Oscar," Charles says lightheartedly. "Sharing isn't really my strong suit. But for her, I will try."

Charles lands a smack on your ass, the sound loud enough to make you flinch. You involuntarily whine at the sting, tripping over your feet a bit. Oscar steadies you, laughing along with Charles.

"We're gonna have so much fun with you, chèrie," Charles teases, kissing your cheek.

The elevator ride is even worse. Or better. You can't decide.

It's just the three of you, and you're backed up into the corner, Charles being the handsier of the two, creeping both hands up your sides, his knee pushing between your legs.

"Ch-Charles, not here," you manage to warn. He increases the pressure against your core, grinning as he watches you shiver.

Oscar watches from the side, arms crossed, leaning casually against the elevator wall. You meet his gaze and he winks, smiling languidly just as Charles kisses down the side of your neck.

Soon enough, the elevator doors open and you push Charles away, startled to see a pair of middle-aged women waiting on the other side. You hurry past them out into the hallway, following Oscar who saunters down towards the end with an easy step.

"Right here," Oscar declares, unlocking a door at the very end. Charles guides you inside just as Oscar turns the light on.

The living room is spacious, with a single couch and coffee table occupying it. A deep blue rug breaks the cream flooring. Past the receiving area is the dining and kitchen, set against floor-to-ceiling windows, a staple of Monegasque apartments, as you've come to figure out. A hallway veers to the right.

"You weren't kidding about the view," you comment, taking in the night sky and the sprawling harbor.

Oscar turns back to you, and only now do you get a good look at him. The first three buttons of his shirt undone, his hair the right kind of messy, and his eyes, darker than what you're used to.

"The view in here is just as good," Oscar replies, eyes raking over your body. He reaches out, a hand resting on your waist.

"May I?" Charles whispers from behind you, tugging down the zip of your skirt. He gets it open and you let it fall to your feet, kicking it off to the side.

"So pretty," Charles adds, kissing along your upper back. Oscar hikes your top up and you let him pull it over your head, leaving you bare, save for your panties.

"I could see your tits through your shirt the whole night," Oscar comments, pointer fingers ghosting over your nipples. "Imagined what they might look like."

You gasp, leaning further back into Charles. You had no idea Oscar had that kind of mouth on him.

It turned you on to no end.

"Better than what you imagined?" You breathe out, Charles' fingers making their way over your mound, pressing over the wet spot on your underwear.

"Chèrie, you're so wet," Charles curses, rubbing you through the thin fabric. "Will you let me get a taste of you, hm?"

You nod frantically, already buckling under the lightest of touch from both men. You can only imagine how pathetic you look right now, stripped bare, with them still fully clothed.

"We should move this to the room," Oscar offers, delivering a final pinch to both of your nipples. You yelp as Oscar chuckles darkly, taking your hand in his.

It hasn't even fully started and you're already made to do the walk of shame.

Oscar's walls are still mostly bare but you feel exposed somehow, shivering despite the fairly warm temperature. He leads you and Charles to the door at the end of the hall, stepping inside while undoing the rest of the buttons on his shirt.

You're met with large double doors on one side of the room, leading to, what you can only assume, is a large balcony.

"We can do it with a view, amour," Charles says, wrapping both arms around your waist.

Oscar shrugs his shirt off and you watch as his muscles flex beneath his skin, taut and defined.

"We sure can," Oscar agrees, flinging the doors to his balcony open. The cool night breeze blows past your face and you sigh, heart rate picking up even more.

Charles gently maneuvers you closer to the open doors and your hands start to clam up. Shit, are you really doing this?

"W-Wait," you mutter. "Won't anyone see?"

Oscar approaches you, pointer finger hooking into your underwear. He tugs at it harshly, yanking it halfway off.

"We don't have to do it outside if you don't want to," Oscar says, voice low. He looks at Charles. "Don't wanna get kicked out after I've just moved in."

Charles snickers. "The bed is right there. We'll leave the doors open and let them hear you, instead."

And it's true. The bed is directly in front of the balcony doors, moonlight spilling onto Oscar's navy blue sheets. Oscar grabs fully at your soiled panties now, ripping them clean off.

You gasp, but any shock is melted away when you see Oscar ball up the torn fabric in his hand, bringing it closer to your face. He raises his eyebrows as if questioning you.

"Yes? No?" He asks, tapping beneath your chin. It clicks a little late what Oscar is asking of you but you nod, parting your lips.

Oscar grins, pushing your panties into your mouth.

Fuck.

You hear the metal clang of a belt being unbuckled behind you, followed by the crinkle of fabric as Charles lets his pants and underwear pool around his ankles.

"You and I are going to have so much fun with her, no, Oscar?" Charles asks, a hint of mischief in his voice.

Oscar undoes the button of his pants as well. "Yes, we are."

"How do you want to do this, baby?" Charles addresses you, taking hold of your hips. "Tell us."

"And maybe if you're good, we'll give you what you want," Oscar adds, a hand sliding up your chest before resting around your neck. Your breath hitches as you feel Oscar test the waters, squeezing lightly.

"Oh, wait," Charles laughs condescendingly. "She can't talk."

There's a glint in Oscar's eyes as he adds pressure around your neck. "Guess we have to decide for her then."

You whimper, arms reaching out to wrap around Oscar's own neck. He smiles at you, almost warmly, but you can still see the bubbling desire in his irises.

"You can take the gag out any time you want," Oscar instructs softly, releasing your neck. You take in a big breath through your nose.

"And if you don't like anything we're doing, say 'Monte Carlo'," Oscar adds. He nods at Charles and you feel yourself being pulled backward.

"Get on the bed," Charles commands and you scramble to do so, crawling over the mattress before turning around and laying back on your elbows.

Charles and Oscar eye you intently and you're tempted to cover yourself, but with how they've been acting the whole night, you're not sure how that would be received.

"You wanna go first?" Oscar nudges Charles lightly. The Monegasque grins widely like a kid on Christmas.

"Oh, yes," Charles concedes, getting on the bed with you. He scoots down so his face is level with your cunt.

"Hold tight, my love," Charles says before licking a thick stripe up your core. Your whole body jerks and you cry around the gag in your mouth.

Charles continues to work on your dripping pussy, alternating between flicking against your clit and circling your hole. You moan and whine and whimper, eyes tearing up as you look pleadingly at Oscar.

"Look at you," Oscar laughs. "We've barely done anything."

Charles spreads your legs even wider, licking even deeper. You're fully crying now, the buildup proving too much as you feel your body shake at your approaching orgasm.

Oscar reaches over and toys with your boobs, brushing over your nipples just the way you like it. Without warning, Oscar dips his head down and takes one in his mouth, circling the nub with his own tongue.

The added sensation nearly drives you crazy. The pressure builds rapidly inside you and you're left incoherent as you beg without words.

Not yet, fuck, I can't cum that fast–

You twitch and involuntarily press your pussy harshly against Charles' mouth as you come undone, toes curling and body seizing up. Oscar pulls away and watches as you throw your head back, fingers twisting into the sheets.

"Already?" You hear Charles' voice through the ringing in your ears. "You must really want it."

You blink through your tears, momentarily confused as you see Oscar reach for your face. You cough as you feel the dry fabric being pulled out from your mouth. Oscar tosses your ruined underwear to the side.

"I think she deserves a reward for getting there so fast," Oscar suggests, turning to Charles.

"Which one do you want a taste of first? You get to pick, sweetheart," Oscar says, wiping a stray line of drool dripping down the side of your mouth.

"Ch-Charles," you croak, throat still dry.

Charles and Oscar share a curt nod and the former moves to the head of the bed.

"Hands and knees, my love," Charles orders and you follow, getting on all fours. He settles against the headboard, leaning back as you take his cock in your hand.

"Guess you want me here, then?" Oscar says from behind you. You turn to peek over your shoulder to see Oscar stroking languidly at his cock, one of his hands coming down to spread your ass apart.

"Fuck, this view," Oscar hisses, smacking your ass once.

"I reckon, you don't need me to prep you? I can just–"

You shriek as you feel Oscar push in without warning, and though it was a surprise, the obscene amount of arousal coming from your cunt aids in the stretch that Oscar's cock brings.

He fully sheathes himself inside and he groans, grabbing your hips with both hands.

"Chèrie." Charles' voice forces your attention back to him.

"Don't forget about me, hm?"

You try to compose yourself as best as you can as Oscar starts to fuck you at a relentless pace. You lower your mouth down to Charles' cock, wrapping your lips around the tip.

You take half of him in, coating him in your spit, going lower each time you come down. Charles is nearly as incoherent as you were earlier, curse words in three different languages falling from his lips.

You feel the tip of his cock reach the back of your throat and you stop, gagging around it. Charles threads his fingers through your hair, yanking you back up.

"Open your mouth," Charles says, tightening the grip on your hair.

You do as you're told and Charles angles himself better. He holds you in place as he fucks up into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat each time. You will your breathing to slow, but the constant assault on your pussy muddles your brain and destroys your focus.

"She's so fucking tight," Oscar says through gritted teeth. You can feel his nails dig into your sides.

"Here as well," Charles agrees. "So warm and so wet."

All you can do is sob as you let the two of them use you, filled up on both sides, reduced to nothing but two holes.

"Fuck, I wanna cum on her face," Oscar says hurriedly, hips slowing down, probably in an attempt to keep his orgasm at bay.

Charles pulls you back off of him and he surveys you for a second.

"And I'll do it inside," Charles says. "Will you let me cum inside, chèrie?"

You nod, unconsciously clenching around Oscar. He curses, speeding up his movements again.

"Mate, I can't take it anymore," Oscar rushes, pulling out. You whine at the loss but Charles is quick to get off the bed, replacing Oscar's place behind you.

You feel the Charles' tip press against your hole and you plead, rocking back, desperate to be filled up.

"Charles, please, n-need your cum in me," you stutter. "Wanna be filled up, I need it, need you, please–"

Charles slides in one swift motion and your eyes roll all the way back in your head. He's thicker than Oscar and the stretch is almost painful but in the best way possible.

The older of the two wastes no time and starts pounding into you, rendering you speechless at how brutal his pace is. You're dizzy with arousal, spit and tears mixing on your chin and cheeks.

"Look here, sweetheart," comes Oscar's voice, rough around the edges, his hand cupping your chin.

He's stroking his cock at an impossible pace, bottom lip caught between his teeth. You look straight into his eyes as you stick your tongue out, waiting for him to release all over you.

"Fuck, you really are desperate for it," Oscar sneers, gripping harder at your face. "Open wide."

A warm spurt of liquid shoots straight onto your tongue, landing on your cheeks as well. You squint as it hits nearer to your eyes but you obediently lick up everything you can from your lips, swallowing Oscar's thick cum down.

"Oh god, baby," Charles warns. "Je vais bientôt jouir–"

Charles presses you closer to him, caging your hips against his own. He groans and you feel him twitch within you. You clench down as hard as you can around him, earning your hair a harsh tug from behind. Charles yanks you back against him as he gives a few more thrusts to ride his orgasm out.

"We are not done with you yet, amour," Charles warns.

Oscar's face comes into view and he's eyeing you up and down, his thumb swiping at a stain of himself on your cheek. He brings it to your lips and you lick his digit clean.

"Good girl," Oscar praises. "But he's right. You can give us a few more, right?"

You swallow.

You nod.

[wickedsmille]

batman, robin, sentient super suits, oh my! part 2

Here's Part 1 and somehow there's going to be a part 3 too because I'm apparently incapable of doing anything short. Just ain't made for it. I've become resigned to my fate. But, hey, here's part 2! ;3

----------

“What is going on with this thing tonight,” Tim murmurs harshly with an irritated huff. 

Jason would like to know, too, since Tim’s comms patched into his private line without Jason’s say so. It could’ve been the Red Hood fucking with him again but the suit has been tame. Well, okay, as tame as his suit gets. Which is suspicious all on its own but that’s a problem for a later time. Right now, he has an unsuspecting Tim on the line. 

“Come on you stupid piece of shit,” Tim whispers like a man at the end of his rope.

“Woah, woah, language there, RR,” Jason chides him because he can.

Tim makes a noise somewhere between a squeak and a grunt which would normally have Jason laughing except Tim chokes off the sound and mutters, “Uh oh.”

He’s never liked uh oh’s. 

“What?” he demands, feigning annoyance but honestly a little worried. 

“So,” Tim starts hesitantly. The rest of the words spill out of him in a rush when he says, “I was trying to get a hold of Batgirl because I’m on a stake out that isn’t a stake out anymore and I’m currently hiding from about thirty heavily armed and trained mercenaries but all the exits are covered so I can’t exactly sneak out.”

Tim trails off while Jason’s stomach churns. “You’re what?” Jason responds, this time truly annoyed. 

“If I have to repeat myself and I give away my position,” Tim warns him absently. There’s another pause and Jason much prefers Tim’s word vomit to the ominous sound of Tim’s measured breathing and the growing din in the background. “Uh oh” Tim says but with more feeling this time. 

“Don’t you fucking uh oh me. Where are you?”

“It’s the home goods warehouse southeast of the docks. 1334 Har-." Tim doesn’t get a chance to finish rattling off the address. If Jason has to guess, he would say it has something to do with the sudden sound of gunfire.

This is not happening. He got butt dialed into a backup call and now the littlest bird is a sitting duck in a den of lions. With only Jason to lean on. Who isn’t even sure where he is. It’s not like the actual contents of Gotham’s warehouses isn’t ever shifting between legitimate goods and illicit ones or anything. Property rights and leases exchanging hands between asset management teams and gangs. Money is money after all. The area around the docks is all warehousing and logistics so, over all, Tim has been completely unhelpful. 

He knows better than to divide Tim’s attention when he’s in the middle of a serious fight. One wrong word and Jason could be the reason Tim gets a bullet to the brain or pushed off a two story catwalk. It doesn’t exactly leave him with very many options other than immediately changing his trajectory to take him over to the industrial center by the docks. It’s a quiet night. He should be able to hear the gunshots. 

Turns out, he doesn’t have to waste valuable time playing Where’s The Fire Fight? because Red Hood has it handled. Or Tim finally made use of one of the many panic buttons he’s sure are sewn all over his less-than-stellar, non-magical-mystical-whatever suit. No matter how, Jason gets a ping on his HUD and a map of Gotham pulls up into the corner with a neat little red dot for Tim’s location. Now knowing where he’s going, Jason pushes himself to hurry the fuck up.

Getting back to his bike is a blur but he’s ripping down Gotham’s streets as soon as he gets the engine started and kickstand up. One irate cab driver has the audacity to honk at him when he blows through a red light so Jason gives him the middle finger and few choice words. The guy must be new to the city if he doesn’t know to look both ways for high speed vigilantes. Jason would be more than happy to teach him the lesson if he didn’t have places to be and things to do. 

Thanks to his incredible driving skills and his innate ability to not turn himself into a pavement pancake, Jason gets to the warehouse in record time. If only Guinness had been watching. He would’ve gotten a medal or whatever it is they do when someone breaks one of the many, many pointless world records the books have immortalized. 

Since all the doors and exterior windows do appear to be fortified and armed, Jason grapples himself to the roof and is delighted to see the unsecured skylight. Whoever these guys are, they must be from out of town too. Any Gotham-ized gangster, goon, villain or otherwise knows to board those up first. Out of towners, he swears. No problem, the cab driver got him primed for a teaching moment so he’s about to take these motherfuckers to school. 

Handling Vigilantes 101:

-Never leave your skylights or exterior vents unattended.

-Before engaging in criminal activity, make sure you have active health insurance.

-Prepare to get your ass pounded into paste by some douchebags in tight leather (and not in the fun way).

In true Bat-fashion, Jason makes his dramatic entrance via ziplining through the skylight after cracking the glass with the steel-toe of his boot. He’s already got a gun out by the time his feet touch down with a jarring thud. The total amateurs, by Gotham standards, startle enough Jason has ample time to start putting them down. A flash of red and black from the corner of his eye lets him know Tim has darted out to either pull some shifty, sneaky shit or find better coverage than the shot to hell crates he’d been keeping between himself and a .22 to the dome. 

Even when the mercs gather up their wits and retaliate against the new threat, the Red Hood does its job. About a minute of getting shot at, knowing he’ll be sporting a myriad of bruises from it but trusting his suit to keep anything fatal at bay, and the idiots start second guessing their current line of attack. 

What’s a bruise or two for the ghost tales that’ll get spread around about the Red Hood being impervious? Jason may be all too human but the Red Hood allows him to pose himself as something more, something greater. Obviously unnerved, the shooting stops as the guys start back pedaling. Too bad Red Robin is there to greet them when they turn tail to make a run for it. 

Jason watches as Tim neatly dispatches the leftovers. He might not have been able to properly appreciate it before, but Tim really is good with that stick of his. Liquid grace in motion, slipping under the mercenaries’ guards easily and transitioning from one opponent to another with a little flair and a lot of skill. Bits and pieces of it Jason can recognize from his own training regimens as Robin, some of it from a couple people he’s run into as Red Hood and can’t help but wonder how Tim met them. The weird amalgamation is all Tim though in the way he takes the best from what he’s learned then takes the discordant moves and shapes them into a symphony of movement. And pain cause, hot damn, Tim isn’t playing. Jason swears he sees one guy's molars get smacked right out of his head. 

One of the assholes groans from where he fell at Jason’s feet  after getting hit with a couple rubber bullets point blank so he kicks him in the head to shut him up. Jason is appraising his ally’s fighting skills, thanks. People can be so rude sometimes.

Tim downs the last merc and, with a satisfied smirk that has Jason’s gut twisting, he leans against his staff with his hip cocked. The tight fabric of his suit is clinging to him like a second skin. Enough so to make Selina and Dick proud. His cape falls in a wave at his back, held in place by the bandoliers crossing his chest. The damn things make Tim’s tiny waist painfully obvious. Small mercies Tim decided to ditch the cowl a few months back. The elegant fall of his too long hair suits the whole Red Robin look a lot better than the gimp cowl.

“Are you going to help secure them?” Tim asks, frowning and looking over his shoulder at Jason as he zipties one of the guys starting to wriggle around.

Jason’s higher thinking kicks back in. Tim does make a good point. They should probably truss up the trash before they’ve got another scuffle on their hands. He hadn’t even realized he drifted off a little bit there. Weird but it has been a long, strange night. Brushing it off, Jason crouches down to start hog tying the mercenaries closest to him. 

Nothing, nothing, will ever beat the hilarity that is criminals awake and wriggling while they’re literally hog tied. Tim may not have approved while he was doing it but, standing next to each other on an adjacent roof to make sure the GCPD carts them off as they should, Tim isn’t saying a bad word about it. In fact, his lips are pinched together like he’s trying to hold back a snicker. One of the mercenaries jolts awake when an officer takes their arm to start hauling them away. The man startles hard and starts grunting and thrashing. 

Tim loses it and, man, Jason has never heard him laugh. Like really laugh. It’s a good look on Tim. 

“I’m not saying you should’ve,” Tim pushes out past a couple more chuckles.

“I’m sensing a but,” Jason says, his grin all charm and completely wasted since Tim can’t see his face because of the helmet. 

“But,” Tim parrots, “that was pretty funny.”

Jason bows with a flourish which has Tim laughing anew though it is softer, quieter this time. In the middle of drinking up the delicate lines of Tim’s face and the curve of his smile, Jason’s HUD goes dark. Totally dead. There’s a couple emergency lights built inside since small, dark places don’t mix well with him anymore. Otherwise, nothing is working.

The Red Hood isn’t subtle one goddamn bit and the stupid suit is lucky he bothered with slapping a domino on before he went out tonight. Quickly undoing the security panels on the underside of his jaw, Jason pulls the helmet off. He shakes out his hair and swipes at the sweat beaded along his brow. A couple strands are stuck to his head and refuse to move so Jason reaches up and musses his hair in an attempt to not feel grungy and gross. 

When he looks up, Tim is staring at him so, without the barrier of the helmet, he whips back out the ol’ Jason Todd charm, smiling wolfishly. Then Tim sort of, freezes up. Jason looks over his shoulder to make sure some new big bad isn’t lurking nearby that they missed. But, nope, nothing there. As he turns his head to meet Tim’s gaze again, he’s back to normal. Tim’s approximation of normal at least. 

He’s tapping a hand against his thigh and looking off towards the cityscape of downtown Gotham. His other hand is settled firmly on his waist while he rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet. 

“Alright, well, thanks for the backup. Talk about a happy accident,” Tim says after clearing his throat a couple times. 

“Don’t mention,” Jason tells him. “But really, don’t mention it. I don’t want all the Bats breathing down my neck.” 

They’re a give an inch, take a mile bunch. If he green lights as a solid reach out for back up, the next thing he knows he’ll be on the main comms listening to inane chatter. Probably have a shadow or two trailing him on patrols like he needs help running his happy, shitty section of the city. Invitations to the Cave will shift to dinners and movie nights. As pleasant as that all sounds, he’d like to avoid it at all costs.

Tim nods easily and readies his grapple. “Fair. Well. Have a good night?” The awkwardness of Tim’s polite goodbye has Jason laughing and shaking his head. Tim bristles as he shoots off his line. “Or not, whatever,” Tim mutters. 

“Yeah, alright, awkward bird,” Jason calls out to him as Tim swings away. 

Next time, it’s Jason reaching out to Tim. Not even Red Hood calling out to Red Robin. He’s literally phoning Tim's personal cell on one of his burners and asking for a favor. There’s a little cell of nasty drug traffickers from down south with their sights set on Gotham. Although he could wait for them to make the egregious mistake of coming onto his stomping grounds, Jason has decided to gift them the honor of a house call given the sheer viciousness they’ve been using to move their product. 

Problem is, he doesn’t know how long he’ll be undercover snuffing them out and Crime Alley rarely rests even with the Red Hood’s impressive shadow looming over it. If he goes dark for more than a week all hell breaks loose. Usually Roy will step in for him and his suit has been accommodating to the temporary trade off in wearer. That’s not an option this time with Roy otherwise occupied. As are his second and third options so he’s had no choice but to ask for help from the Bat he can best stand. 

He didn’t even need to threaten or bribe Tim after promising a rubber bullets only policy would be fine. The agreement may have come readily but Tim did sound distracted. A niggle of doubt has him pacing his apartment as he waits for Tim to show up. For all he knows, Tim might’ve been less present in the conversation than he thought and not show up at all. 

The knock at his window comes as a mild surprise. Twisting his head around, hand twitching towards the gun he has lying on the counter next to him, Jason relaxes when he sees Tim standing on his fire escape clad in dark clothes with the hood of his sweatshirt pulled up. Tim waves at him and gestures to the window with a raised brow. 

Jason doesn’t scramble to open it but he might do it a little too eagerly. Thankfully, Tim doesn’t comment on it as Jason steps back to let Tim in. 

“Are you sure this is going to work?” Tim asks dubiously once he’s standing in the middle of Jason’s living room with his hands jammed in his pouch pocket. 

“Oh yeah, definitely,” Jason responds without actually being sure. The Red Hood could always reject Tim. Only one way to find out though. “Follow me,” Jason says as he gestures Tim down the hall to his bedroom where he keeps his suit stored.

“Alright. Sorry I’m late, by the way. My suit has been giving me issues lately.”

“Like what?” Jason asks curiously as he pushes open the door to his room and goes to unearth the Red Hood.

Tim shrugs and absently looks around Jason’s room. It’s uncomfortable to have Tim here, for him to see where Jason lives. He does his best to ignore it as he spreads the suit out on his bed. Approaching slowly, Tim takes his hands out of his pocket so he can run a finger down the chestplate. The whole thing does a little shimmy shake. Jason has a bad feeling about this. 

“I’m not exactly your size,” Tim drawls, looking Jason up and down. 

A spark of molten heat sparks deep in his core so Jason smothers it with extreme prejudice. “If you’re not lookin’ like a kid in daddy’s clothes then we’ll be fine. It’ll adjust. If it likes you.”

“If it likes me,” Tim murmurs. 

There’s a sad, bitter edge to Tim’s expression as he stares down at the suit. Once more, Jason realizes he has stepped on a sore spot for Tim. The same one even. Let no one ever accuse him of being great at interpersonal relationships. 

Tim banishes whatever he has going through his mind with a shake of his head. His face shifts to one of determination as he shucks off his sweatshirt. And his shirt. Then he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his pants.

“Enjoying the show?” Tim questions sarcastically.

Right. Right, he was staring. When he shouldn’t have been. 

“I want a refund,” Jason throws out to cover his folly. Tim snorts so Jason takes it as a win. “I’ll leave you to it. Let me know if the suit gives you a hard time. It’ll listen to me sometimes.”

“Sometimes. That’s comforting.”

“I try. Now get your tiny ass in it.” 

Jason excuses himself from the room, shutting the door, before making his way to the kitchen where his open duffel bag is already stuffed with the essentials. To keep himself busy, Jason checks over the contents. Then double checking and tossing a couple other things in the bag. Once satisfied, he zips it up and pats the thick canvas of the bag. When he looks up from his distraction, Tim is there in the hallway.

I fucked up, Jason bemoans internally.

Not because the Red Hood is being antagonistic and obstinate in letting Tim help. The stupid suit must not have a single qualm with letting Tim wear it. Everything fits so damn well. There’s only so much reshaping the suit can usually do given the difference in size between himself and others but whatever bullshit gives the suits a brain has pulled out all the stops to make it work. 

Tim looks good in it. Still short although the heels on the boots are higher. The extra armoring pads Tim’s form, making him look bulkier than he is but the suit nips in at the waist. He’s pretty damn sure the tac pants aren’t supposed to be that tight, either. Tim tosses the helmet from hand to hand under Jason’s scrutinizing eyes before popping it on.

“Wow, okay, I want one of these,” Tim says through the voice modulator. The mechanical growl has a shiver running down Jason’s spine. Because he keeps his apartment cool and there’s a draft somewhere he hasn’t fixed yet, of course. “The tech in this thing.”

“Great for concussion prevention, too.”

“I’m hoping to not put that to the test.”

“Yeah, try not to. You’re still smaller than me, shrimp, so keep moving and maybe nobody will notice.”

Pulling the hood off, Tim glares at him. “I’m not that much smaller.”

“You’re like, what, a buck forty soaking wet?”

Huffing, Tim puts the helmet on again. “Excuse me while I prove that doesn’t matter.”

“Go off,” Jason cheers flatly. 

Tim flicks him off while he walks back towards the window. “Just getting in character,” he says as he gracefully slides back out onto the fire escape. 

I am so very, very fucked, Jason thinks with no small amount of dismay. There’s only so much a mantra of ‘Don’t stress, repress’ can do and it’s getting really hard to ignore the way he’s been responding to Tim. Doesn’t mean he’s not going to keep trying to savagely squash what he’s starting to suspect may be the beginnings of attraction. 

It all comes to a head when Tim asks him to partner up on a counterfeiting case. The request shouldn’t have surprised him. After Tim successfully patrolled Park Row as Red Hood, reporting no issues, they’ve been crossing paths more often. On one occasion, the tracker Jason stuck to a mobster’s car brought him to Tim instead. By some stroke of luck, Tim was tailing the same guy so, aside from the momentary hiccup, the takedown went smoothly. Then Tim’s grapple jammed when they were set to part ways another night after running into one another. Jason ended the night red faced and unable to think of anything but Tim’s arms wrapped tightly around his neck, hanging on for dear life, as he flew them back to Tim’s bike. 

A few weeks ago, he’d ended up battered, bruised and bleeding in some dark, dank alley in the East End. Willingly, Jason hailed Tim for an assist. Tim got him to a safe house and patched him up efficiently. The weird thing is, Tim’s cape was being weird. Sure, that makes him sound slightly insane and maybe a civilian would think so but Jason has been a mask for what seems like half of forever now. He knows these suits. So, the way Tim’s cape had fallen around them, stretching itself so it covered the both of them to create a safe, quiet space all their own, was suspicious. Then it got really suspicious when Tim tried brushing it aside to get some better lighting while doing the stitches but the cape kept somehow slipping over his back to go back to embracing the both of them. 

There isn’t a single doubt in Jason’s mind that Red Robin was a plain,ol’ regular mass of fabric when Jason got it. None. He’s starting to suspect that isn’t the case anymore which is only cemented when they walk into the hotel room they booked for the night to serve as a base of operations in New York while they follow a trail of counterfeit money. 

See, Jason was right next to Tim in the car when he called the hotel and made the booking. He personally heard Tim ask for a room with twin beds and the front desk agent confirm there was one available. Then Tim had tossed his phone into his bag, the same one with his spare clothes and suit, and they’d blared hyper pop and grunge on the radio without a second thought. Jason vividly remembers pulling into the hotel parking lot and Tim grabbing his bag, fishing his phone out and frowning thoughtfully that the screen was on with his email open. After a cursory check, he’d shrugged it off and they got out to settle in. 

Getting comfortable is going to be a Herculean challenge for Jason since there’s only one queen bed in the room. 

Tim pauses in the entryway and blinks before glancing down at his key card, backing up to look at the room number and back down at the card again. “They must’ve made a mistake,” he says blankly. 

Before Jason can put his two cents in, Tim shoves his bag into Jason’s arms and snatches up Jason’s key card. Tim books it back down the hall towards the front desk. Which, okay, that’s fine. All’s the better because Jason will literally go insane if he has to share a bed with Tim. Years of freezing on the streets taught him to gravitate towards whatever heat source possible. Including people he trusts in his general vicinity when he’s sleeping. He simply won’t survive waking up with Tim as his personal teddy bear. 

Storming into the room, Jason throws Tim’s bag onto the bed and yanks it open. He opens the hidden pocket where Red Robin is neatly folded and glares down at it. 

“I don’t know what your game is, but cut that shit out,” Jason hisses at the suit. It doesn’t move but Jason gets the distinct impression it’s smug. Or he could be projecting. Can regular suits gain consciousness? Is that a thing? Doesn’t matter, not like anyone is around to judge him for talking to a maybe, maybe-not inanimate costume. “Seriously. I brought you into this world, I can take you out of it.”

Jason doesn’t get the opportunity to further threaten the Red Robin costume. A harried looking Tim pops back into the room, two key cards in hand. When he looks at Jason, he seems a little lost. 

“This was the only room they had left,” Tim tells him, tone carefully calm and even. “There’s some business conference going on.”

He swallows hard and nods, remembering a couple news articles he’d read through on it before leaving. “Okay, yeah, no problem.” There’s no couch either. Just a dresser, nightstand, bed, desk and one of those armchairs with cushions hard enough to use as a bludgeoning weapon. “I’ll take the floor?”

Tim doesn’t look at him but his face pinches in distaste at the idea. “No, it’s fine. We can share, right?”

“Nah, it’s alright, I’ll take the floor,” Jason insists.

Now Tim looks him in the eye and the steely determination takes Jason by surprise. “I can’t even fathom what the stains on this carpet are and there’s no padding. You’ll wake up an aching mess and be useless on the mission tomorrow. We can share the bed,” he says firmly. 

Well, what is Jason supposed to say to that other than, “Good point. Bedfellows it is.”

The time they spend organizing their things and then getting ready to lie down is just as awkward as Jason thought it would be. On no fewer than five occasions, Jason nearly calls the whole thing off. There were other hotels in the area, right? Not all of them could possibly be full from the corporate HR consulting conference being held in town. Anything would be better than the fragile silence between them. 

He doesn’t though. The thought of backing out like a yellow bellied coward had his gut souring and his mood shifting from placid dread to irritation. Each time the impulse comes up, he kicks it to the recesses of his mind along with every budding fantasy of what the night may bring. It’s getting pretty cluttered in that dark corner of his mind. 

Tim doesn’t appear to be quite as affected. Some of his movements are stilted and he’s giving Jason a wider berth than normal but otherwise he does his own thing while Jason does his. If Jason weren’t harboring an incredibly inconvenient crush, he’d even say things were companionable. But he is, so suffocatingly uncomfortable atmosphere for him. Woe is his life, seriously. 

Those feelings of giddy anticipation and mounting horror go sharply into focus as he and Tim, dressed down for bed in sleep shirts and comfortable pants, stare at one another from either side of the bed. Tim has a corner of the blanket in his hand, fiddling with a loose thread on the side of it. Otherwise, he’s completely still and everything he’s thinking is locked up tight behind the pale blue of his eyes. Jason can’t help but fidget too, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he feels a prickle of embarrassment slithering down the back of his neck. This is the weirdest game of semi-gay chicken he’s ever engaged in. 

Jason breaks first if only to end the game. Grabbing the edge of his blanket, Jason tosses it back before flinging himself onto the bed. After a brief shuffle, he gets himself covered up to the chin with the blanket and his back facing Tim. Carefully, slowly, Tim crawls in beside him with much less flair and flourish. The blanket tugs for a second before settling again. While the bed is a good size, Jason isn’t exactly your average guy. Despite his best efforts to get as far away as he can, he can still feel Tim’s warmth brushing against his back like a phantom caress. 

Man, sleep isn’t happening. He may as well get up and do some more research on the case or something. Screwing his eyes shut and gritting his teeth, Jason wrestles with himself on if he should ditch the idea of sharing the bed and how he can get out of it without being overtly disrespectful.

[laughhardrunfastbekindsblog]

This.

This is the moment Din finally realizes Grogu is ready to be taught the Way of the Mandalore.

When the Armorer first told Din the foundling was officially in his care, the following exchange took place:

Din: "You wish me to train this thing?"

Armorer: "It is too weak. It would die."

So Din continues on as he had before, protecting Grogu as he spends months searching for a Jedi to train the kid. We see Grogu closing his pram as if it's become standard operating procedure the moment he notices Din gearing up for a fight, and Din makes it a point to keep Grogu close because that's still the best way to ensure the child's safety while Din takes the brunt of the danger and runs into the line of fire.

After meeting Ahsoka, Din does acknowledge that Grogu is "too powerful" (after all, he has seen the kid do things like heal Greef and float a Mudhorn and hold back a flamethrower), and that he, Din, would be unable to train him in the ways of the Force, so he tells Grogu on more than one occasion to go with the Jedi if they find one.

Still, despite how awe-inducing and inexplicable this power is, all Din has ever seen of the Force when Grogu uses it in any significant capacity is that it's a one-shot trick that knocks the kid out cold. (Actually, Grogu ends up being most vulnerable after using the Force and therefore still requires protection even when he does use his "powers.")

Then, while Luke Skywalker definitely gives an impressive display of the potential power of the Force, the last Din sees of Grogu before a months-long separation is Grogu being withdrawn and quiet after having been held captive by Gideon, certainly in no frame of mind to use his powers.

And then suddenly Grogu shows up while Din is smack dab in the middle of a battle against the Pyke syndicate.

Din, of course, still has no idea what Grogu has been taught, so he defaults to protecting Grogu the way he always has: he asks Peli to look after him while Din takes on a battle droid, specifically telling Grogu "Don't move, let me handle this."

But Grogu is more confident now, and he saves Din from the scorpenek droid even while staying out of the way himself. However, it isn't until Grogu calmly confronts a rampaging Rancor and puts it to sleep that Din is visibly stunned (even with the helmet on) and seems to realize - hey, the kid really has learned a lot from the Jedi training, maybe he is strong enough now to be trained in the Way of the Mandalore.

And we see this to be the case in season 3. Din will still protect Grogu with his life, but he will go a step farther and start teaching Grogu -in the Mandalorian way - how to protect himself too.

[flightlessangelwings]

His Strength

Din Djarin x fem!reader

Word count- 3.8k

Dialogue prompt- “ hey! get away from them! “ and “ don’t worry about me; are YOU okay? “ Action prompt- [ SACRIFICE ]: sender sacrifices themselves, either fatally or otherwise, in order to save the receiver’s life.

Warnings-s.mut (18+ ONLY!), fwb to lovers, protective!Din, bounty hunter reader, injury, brief violence, brief torture scene (not super descriptive and no needles or anything like that), light angst, happy ending, mutual pining, feelings, no use of y/n, ambiguous on where in the timeline it is but razor crest lives

Notes- We made it, this is the last of my Year of Protectiveness @yearofcreation2023! I actually had a different idea at first, but after some personally tragedy, I wanted to write something a little more angtsy. Don't worry tho it's still a happy ending and no major character death! Thanks so much to those who have supported this year theme endeavor with me!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so feel free to follow that and turn on post notifs to stay up to date!

~

When you first partnered with a Mandalorian bounty hunter in the guild, you never expected how much it would change your life. What started as a one time alliance for convenience turned into a partnership built on mutual respect for the other. And everything changed even more the day Mando came to you asking for help with a child he had taken in. He had told you what happened, and how he made the decision to save the child instead, and it awoke something within you that day. Even as he rescued the child from the Client, you stayed by his side and as the two of you traveled the galaxy, you felt the dynamic shift between you two.

It changed the Mandalorian that day too. From under the armor, he had always respected you, but seeing you with the child made him feel something he had never felt before. He found that his gaze lingered on you when you weren’t looking, and he found himself wondering what life would be like if you and the child could stay with him forever… as a family. 

Neither of you were sure when it happened. You were just partners one moment, and the next, became something more. There was never a whisper of it spoken out loud, though, just both of you knew something shifted. Even if it was simply for release, it changed everything between you two. He even murmured his real name to you in the throws of passion- a gift you treasured and kept safe in your heart. 

*

Sweat lined your brow as you writhed beneath the Mandalorian. His low grunts echoed from under his helmet while you bit your lip to stifle your moans. Din, as always, never took anything off, only freed his cock. You stayed mostly covered as well, something you wondered if he did to keep things feeling leveled, as if he didn’t want to feel like he was overpowering you. Only your bottoms came off, and even then they stayed around your ankles.

It started fast, heated, and fiery. The first time you and Din slept together was quick, as if you were both concerned with the moment running away from you. He just pushed your pants down enough and took you against the wall. And even with the rush, it was still a more intimate connection you had ever felt in your life. You couldn’t tell at the time, but Din felt the same way.

Over time, it moved from the wall to Din’s bunk, and from hot and hurried to slow and sensual. Din at times handled you with sure care that you wondered if he thought you would break. The way he caressed every inch of you made your heart flutter in your chest as you looked at him with a glazed over expression. Neither of you were sure when exactly it happened, but something changed as the two of you came together time and time again.

You felt it with every thrust of his cock. Though you never saw his face, you felt the emotions behind his movements and his touch. You looked into the darkness of his vizor, locking eyes with him behind it. A louder moan escaped your lips as he rocked into you again, filling you to the brim.

“Din…” you murmured as you ran your hands across his chest.

“I’ve got you,” he groaned in a low tone that went right to your core.

You whimpered at the care that lined his voice. Moving before you could second guess yourself, you let go of his broad shoulders and reached down for your own top. You grabbed and pulled it over yourself in one swift movement, exposing more of your body to Din.

He paused as his helmet nodded up and down as he soaked in the sight of your bare chest, “You’re beautiful,” he groaned as his hands wandered across your breasts. 

Mirroring your action, Din surprised you by quickly removing his gloves so that he could touch your bare skin. Both of you gasped when his large hand cupped your jaw first, then trailed down to your breast. He remained inside you yet stayed still as both of you froze in the moment. Din’s thumb brushing across your nipple was the only movement save for the way both your chests expanded with your heavy breaths.

A whimper escaped your lips as Din caressed your breast, gently pinching your nipple as he fondled you. He worshiped your body with his touch and you could hear the heavy breaths from under his helmet. Heat rose between the two of you as he kneaded your breasts.

Din murmured your name as his hand trailed up your chest and along your arms until he took your hand in his. Leaning forward, Din pressed his forehead against yours as he covered your body with his own and resumed his thrusts.

This time, you couldn’t hold back your moans. Between the way he pounded into you and the emotions that came with the intimacy of the moment, you couldn’t help the way you cried out. Din’s cock hit spots deep inside you that you never felt before, and it brought tears to your eyes.

“Fuck… Din…”

“I know,” he groaned, “Me too…”

His hand clasped around yours as he sped up his thrusts, rocking into you with abandon. You arched your back into him as you squeezed his hand right back, and your eyes fluttered shut as you felt your climax quickly approach. 

“Din… I’m…” was all you could get out before your orgasm hit you. Your entire body trembled under his beskar-clad one as you came hard on his cock. Your cries echoed in the small space as you felt Din hit your sweet spot over and over again, making you feel a pleasure unlike anything you ever experienced before.

Din growled your name as his hips became more erratic until he too hit his peak. He dropped down onto his elbows, all while never letting go of your hand as he felt wave after wave of pleasure crash through him as he spilled himself deep inside you.

Heavy breaths filled the small space between your bodies as Din rode out your orgasms together. With one final deep thrust, Din groaned as he stilled himself for a moment until he pulled out of you completely. You let out a soft whine at the loss as you felt your body pulse from the aftershocks of your powerful climax.

He gave your hand one last squeeze before he finally let go, and Din immediately grabbed your shirt so that you could cover yourself.

Mumbling a hushed “thanks,” you maneuvered yourself in the tiny space to dress yourself, slipping your shirt on before shimmying your pants back up. Vaguely, you felt Din’s gaze on you as he helped you move around on the cot. For a moment, you didn’t dare look at him. The emotions were too overwhelming after what happened. Something changed in the air between you two, but neither of you were sure how to address it.

That was when you noticed his hand still lingered on your body, holding you tightly. “Din…” you started in a whisper.

But you were interrupted when a coo from a distance made you both look up. Grugu babbled happily as he made his way outward the bunk and climbed in, settling himself in between you two.

You smiled brightly as you finally looked at Din, “We didn’t wake him did we?” you asked in embarrassment.

“I hope not,” he replied with a soft laugh in his tone, “I’m sure it’s fine,” he reassured you. 

You couldn’t help but giggle as the little child made himself comfortable between the two of you. Faintly, you heard his laughter with yours and it made your heart soar.

Din tilted his head affectionately, “Rest now,” he cradled your face, “We all need some sleep.”

Swallowing hard, you nodded. Wiggling your way around where Grogu already made himself comfortable, you laid down on your side and exhaled deeply. Din did the same after you were settled and he placed himself so that he could wrap his arm around both you and the child, holding you both close, keeping you both safe.

“Goodnight,” you murmured before you drifted off. Surprisingly, it took you no time to fall asleep, perhaps because you were warm and comfortable… and safe.

The Mandalorian, however, laid awake for some time, just listening to you and Grugu sleep. Everything he could ever want in the galaxy was tucked safely in his arms, yet it all felt so far at the same time. He knew neither you nor the child were truly his, yet he felt like the three of you were already a family. If you only knew just how much you meant to him… 

*

“I have a bad feeling about this,” you mumbled.

Din glanced over at you, but said nothing. He placed a hand on your shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze before he stepped in front of you. 

The alleyway felt like it closed in around you. Dim lights led the way as you, Din and Grogu tracked the fob and the bustle of the city faded into the distance. It was quiet, but not calming. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but something felt wrong, and everything in you screamed to turn around.

Din's presence anchored you, though, and you stayed at his side as you carefully made your way toward where the fob guided you. With each step, it beeped louder until you all turned down one last alley that led to a small shack.

“Careful,” Din hissed under his breath to you.

You and Din each hovered your hands over your weapons, ready to strike. Din scanned the area, and when he found no movement, he nodded to you and opened the door slowly. You held your breath as the two of you pointed your blasters into the small space, ready for anything. However, as you inched closer, you noticed that the target laid still. Scrunching your brows, you reached a hand out to check, and with a sigh you turned back to Din, “He’s already dead.”

Din let out a soft grunt. You were right- something was off about this. But, before he could even reply, an explosion knocked both of you off balance. He shouted your name as he instinctively tried to reach for you, but you were knocked too far away from him.

A yelp escaped your throat as you found yourself thrown against the nearby wall. You groaned as your body ached, but you forced yourself up onto your elbows. Grogu’s pram was pushed next to you, and through the smoke in the distance where the front wall used to be, you saw numerous shadows appear. Din laid on the ground on the other side of the space, groaning as he too pushed himself back up.

Acting quickly, you shot up to your feet and grabbed onto the pram, “Get out of here, Grogu,” you told him and you gathered your strength, “Get out of here and get help,” you strained as you pushed the pram as hard as you could, sending it hurling out the window and into the darkness. You watched it disappear for a moment before you turned to your companion, “Din,” you breathed.

He looked over at you, but before he could even say your name, another figure appeared behind you and knocked you unconscious. Din yelled, both in fear and in anger, and attacked the enemies with everything he had, fighting until he too found his world completely black.

*

You felt the pain before you opened your eyes; your entire body ached. Faintly, you heard voices and clamoring around you, and it took you several seconds to blink your eyes open. When you did, you found yourself in a brightly lit room with several men around you. Gasping, you tried to move, but you found yourself strapped down- your wrists were bound at your sides and your ankles were tied at the end of the table you currently laid on.

“You joined us just in time,” a sinister voice spoke.

Snapping your head in the direction of the voice, you saw a tall man with a rod in his hands. The rod sparked at the end, and you knew immediately what it was for. You spat a curse at him as you struggled to get out of your binds, but that only amused him.

“She’s feisty,” he commented, “I see why you keep her around, Mando,” he moved aside to reveal Din behind him, also bound but in a different way.

The Mandalorian was on his knees, his wrists cuffed together in front of him, and several men strained to keep him in place. His shoulders rose and fell with deep breaths, and you could hear the snarl in his breathing.

“Maybe now you can tell us where the child is,” the man continued as he stepped towards you, the rod pointing right at you.

“Get away from her!” Din shouted, “Let her go!”

He ignored him, the rod hovering just above your skin, “Let’s hear how pretty you are when you scream,” he hissed.

“No!” Din struggled in vain as he tried to break free.

The searing pain from the rod against your skin made you scream before you could fight it. Pulse after pulse of electricity shot through your entire body, and it was the worst pain you had ever felt in your life. Your eyes snapped shut as you tried to wriggle away, but it was no use. You were trapped, and there was nothing you or Din could do.

Your screams went right to Din’s chest, “Stop!” he shouted. Fueled by his rage at seeing you hurt, Din finally broke free of his captors and with a grunt, knocked them out. “It’s me you want. Leave her alone,” Din panted, “Don’t hurt her.”

Din smashed the binders that held his wrists together, shattering it, before he grabbed his small vibroblade that he kept hidden. The room turned into a frenzy as the other men attacked him, but he fought them off until he reached the leader, the one who hurt you.

Amused at the scene, the leader pulled out a blade of his own and countered Din's attack, “Is this… love, Mandalorian?” he asked as he parried Din's attack.

The Mandalorian just growled as rage consumed him. He went blade to blade with the leader a few times, but he soon made a mistake. Din glance over at you, still bound to the table with tears in your eyes. He hesitated for just a moment as the sight of you like that broke him, and that was when the leader stuck, stabbing Din right between the plates of his armor.

“Has a woman made you soft?” he teased in a low voice as he drove the blade deeper, "How sweet," he spat.

Your eyes went wide as your mouth opened to let out a scream, but nothing came out. Instead, all you could croak out was a hushed, "Din..."

Tears fell from your eyes as you wailed and thrashed in your binds, desperate to do something. Maniacal laughter filled the room as Din slumped down, the blade still in his body. You whimpered as you tried to fight through the pain that coursed through your body and free yourself, but it was no use. This was the end. And you didn’t even get to tell him…

Suddenly, the wall on the far side burst open in an explosion and dozens of Karga’s men flooded into the room. They fought off your captors in a heated fight. And through the flames and blaster fire, you saw the familiar outline of the child, who waddled over to you. It was the last thing you saw before you passed out from the pain. 

*

Din woke with a gasp. The last thing he remembered was getting stabbed, hearing you scream and then an explosion. He had no idea where he was, but he did notice that his hands weren’t bound anymore. And the pain had dulled to an ache in his side. But, more than his own injuries, he was more concerned with where you were. Thankfully for him, your voice was the next thing he heard.

“Din,” you gasped, “It’s alright, we’re ok,” you were right next to him.

Din laid back down with a groan as the pain suddenly intensified. But it didn’t matter, you were here, and you were ok. He whispered your name, “What happened?”

“Grogu found backup,” you sounded tired, “Karga and the others found us just in time.”

He groaned, “Grogu?! Where is he?”

“Shh,” you tried to calm him, knowing how much the kid meant to him, “He’s alright. He’s resting in the next room. It took a lot out of him… healing us…”

“Are you alright?” was his next question after a pause.

Your eyes went wide, “Don’t worry about me. Are you ok?”

Din cupped your face, “As long as you and the kid are alright…”

“Don’t say that,” tears filled your eyes before you could stop them. You let out a shaky breath before you added, “Din, you… You sacrificed yourself… For me…” your voice trembled. 

He groaned as he slowly pushed himself up to sit. You mumbled incoherent concerns as you helped him up, and once Din was upright, he found himself almost eye level with you due to the height of the cot. Din let out a heavy sigh as his heart skipped a beat in his chest at the way you looked at him. Though he hated to see tears in your eyes, he noticed the care and concern that highlighted your features.

“Din…” you breathed as he cupped your face once more.

As he gently cradled your face in his hand, Din murmured, “Keeping you and Grogu safe,” he hissed slightly from the pain, “Is all that matters to me. You two are all that matter to me.” Din spoke in a sincere voice.

Fresh tears filled your eyes, but not ones of sadness. You longed to hear him say those words, and now that you heard them, the emotions became overwhelming. “I care about you too, Din,” you whispered as you leaned into his touch, feeling his thumb brush across your cheek, “You and the kid… You’re my family. My everything.”

Din let out a deep breath, “I trust you,” his tone was soft, “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” you breathed without hesitation.

He slid his hand up your face to rest over your eyes. Your mouth dropped open as a sigh escaped your lips, but you said nothing and made no attempt to move. You put yourself completely in his hands, knowing you were safe in them. But, you gasped when you heard the hiss of his helmet, and felt the gentle breath from Din’s own lips.

Din leaned in and tenderly placed his lips over yours, using his free hand to keep his helmet covering the rest of his face. You both moaned softly into each other as you savored the feeling of your lips together for the first time. The kiss was soft and sweet, yet it held all the emotions the two of you held close to your hearts. Now that everything was out in the open, though, you and Din both felt like you could share this vulnerability with each other.

You tilted your head to the side as you placed your hands on Din’s armored chest and parted your lips in a silent invitation. Din eagerly took it and deepened the kiss by darting his tongue past your lips. He groaned into you and pushed his chest more into your body as the taste of you sent a jolt of electricity through his veins. A tear of his own slid down his face as he memorized the taste of you and the feeling of your face against his.

As much as neither of you wanted to break away, you needed air. Reluctantly, you both parted at the same time, sharing the air that you both inhaled. Din carefully pulled his helmet down and covered your eyes, taking a moment to admire the subtle features of your face as you kept your eyes closed.

“Look at me,” he said gently.

You blinked your eyes open, and knew from the way he tilted his head to the side that he was admiring you. Your heart fluttered in your chest as you felt his eyes stare at you through the darkness of the visor. “Thank you,” you whispered, “For saving my life,” you slid your hand in his.

“You never have to thank me, mesh’la,” Din murmured as he squeezed your hand and moved his free one to cup the back of your head, “I’ll always protect you,” he continued in a low tone as he guided your head closer to his until your foreheads touched. Din knew his love for you and Grugu didn't make him weak, despite what the leader said. In fact, it made him stronger than ever, it drove him to fight harder to protect you both.

You let out another deep breath as your eyes closed and you cherished the moment. Being held by Din made you feel safe and warm, even with the cold armor he wore. You felt the warmth of his touch, the warmth of his love, even through the beskar. “Let’s go see our kid,” you broke the silence with a smile in your tone.

Din let out a soft, amused huff that told you he was smiling too, “Yeah,” he murmured, “Let’s get our family back together.” 

[forever-rogue]

Hello I was wondering if I can request something with Din Djarin? What about Din and Reader being in a "relationship" (the kind of relationship where they're definitely together but never spoke about it) and one day, Din has a rough day so he's particularly quiet. At night, when Reader goes to bed and Din joins her, she reminds him she's here if he needs anything because she noticed how off he'd been the entire day. Din grew used to being alone, to deal with his troubles alone but now that he knows her, that he knows what it's like to have someone who cares, he doesn't feel like handling whatever is troubling him alone. At the same time he's still quite shy in a way but he manages to ask if he could hold her. It would be very intimate, very sweet and for Din, being so close to his cyar'ika is more than enough to ground him and make him forget about his day. Feel free to change or add as many things as you want I just love the way you write for Din.

AN | Please, this concept is so sweet! Enjoy🥰

Warnings | None

Pairing | Din x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2.1k

Masterlist | Din, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Hey,” you looked up from the vegetables you were chopping and Grogu was playing with as soon as you heard Din walk through the front door. A smile spread across your face as you took in the Mandalorian but you could sense that something was wrong immediately. The changes in his demeanor was always subtle but you could pick up on it almost instantly. He usually tried to keep himself grounded and even, effectively keeping the two of you unbothered, “what’s wrong?”

His momentary hesitation told you that your intuition had been right. He took off his boots and placed them by the front door, “nothing’s wrong.”

You were both well aware of the fact that he was lying but you decided not to push the issue. You wanted him to trust you and you figured that pushing him too much wasn’t the best idea. Letting him know you were there for him seemed like the better option. Instead you nodded and turned back to your chopping. Grogu made a small sound and looked at you in concern but you quickly scratched his ears in what you hoped was a sign of reassurance. 

After a few moments of somewhat tense silence you heard him walk towards the bedroom to change. The one thing you’d noticed early on was that Din didn’t raise his voice or argue often. But then again, neither you or Grogu ever gave him anything to be mad about. Still - he was a gentle, kind man that you adored endlessly. 

The two of you finished everything up for dinner, the soup finishing on the stuff and freshly baked bread cooling, along with dessert. You’d made his favorite dessert without even thinking about it. 

It was a while before Din made his re-appearance in the kitchen. He was freshly showered in and in clean, warm clothes, dark hair still wet and mussed. The worst part of all was how tired and run down he looked. 

“Hello there,” you whispered, almost taking a step closer to him but stopping yourself. You swallowed thickly and offered him a soft smile that he barely managed to muster up in return, “I hope you’re hungry…we made a lot.”

“It smells delicious cyar’ika,” the use of your pet name made a prickle of hope bubble in your stomach. Grogu had already padded his way over to him and was tugging on the bottom of his pants. Din reached down and picked him up, scratching his son’s ears as he babbled away happily. Grogu never failed to bring a smile to his - or anyone’s - face. 

“C’mon,” you nodded towards the table, “let’s sit down and eat. It’s been a long day.”

He made a small sound of agreement and moved towards the counter but you cut him off with a shake of your head. You reached up and touched his check, brushing your knuckles across his skin. You felt him lean slightly into your touch before he listened to your direction and sat down. 

You made quick work of grabbing bowls and getting everything dished up, sitting down across from Din.  He quietly thanked you before starting to eat, followed by Grogu gurgling happily. 

There was definitely still something bothering but at least things seemed better for the moment. You hoped he knew just how very much you loved him and just wanted to care for him…like he always did with you. You wanted to give back everything he always gave you.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The rest of the evening went by in relative quiet. After dinner, the three of you cleaned up and then played with Grogu for a while. It wasn’t long before he was tired and ready for bed; Din took him to put him into bed and you decided not to interrupt, figuring that some alone time for them might be needed.

Instead, you busied yourself with cleaning around the small home before heading to bed yourself. Your mind was full with so many thoughts but they all somehow managed to lead back to him, him, him. 

You weren’t even entirely sure of the extent of your relationship or what you should even call it. It was definitely more than a casual friendship, but you weren’t quite sure what label would belong to it. He showed his face, something he had told you was only done for a child or spouse typically, so there had to be something there. You wouldn’t say you were dating, nor were you technically married. You shared a close bond, learning and healing through so many different experiences and traumas together, as well as an intimate one too. 

The two of you had shared many late night thoughts in the dark and had learned each other’s bodies and hearts at the same time. You knew you loved him and you hoped he knew it too. You were almost positive that he loved you as well, but you’d never put pressure on him to say it. You didn’t need him to - he displayed his love and care and compassion with everything he did. He was a kind, good, golden-hearted man - you would have done anything for him. 

You had gotten into bed and been there for a while, not quite asleep but not quite awake either. You heard his familiar footfalls coming down the hall and relaxed when you heard him come inside. You didn’t move or break the silence, and he slowly got into the bed, reaching for you as he so often did. You let him pull you towards his chest, snuggling into him and putting a hand on top of his. 

You felt his entire body relax and heard him sigh softly. Bringing his hand to your lips, you pressed a tender kiss to his knuckles. 

“Din,” you whispered his name into the darkness like a prayer. He tightened his grasp on you ever so slightly before you felt some kisses pressed to your shoulder, “I don’t want to push or pry, but I just want you to know that you can tell me anything. I’m always here for you, however you need, and I am not going anywhere ever.”

A few beats of silence passed between the two, comfortable and pliant before he softly spoke, “I know.”

“I never want you to feel like you’re alone,” you promised, “but I am also not going to make you do anything at all that you don’t want to.”

“I was alone for a long time,” he replied softly, “before Grogu. Before you.” 

Your throat constricted and you wanted to say a thousand different things but you stopped yourself. This was his time and turn to speak and you didn’t want to interrupt him. 

"Sometimes it's easy to retreat into myself and keep things to myself," he explained, "instead of burdening you or anyone else with my problems."

You gently shuffled around in his hold so you were facing him. You laid your head on the pillow next to his and you could feel him watching you intently. A soft sound, a mix of exasperation and love escaped your lips as you traced your fingers along his jaw, “you are anything but a burden, Din. The people we love, they’re not burdens. I want to hear about your thoughts, feelings, and worries, so long as you would like to share them with me.”

“You love me?”

Oh. Oh. You hadn’t realized you’d said that little part out loud, even if it was all true. You hadn’t reached that part of your relationship just yet, but now it was all out in the open. There was no hiding from it. 

“Yes,” you whispered in response, stomach in knots as you tried to anticipate his response. When he did say anything for a few moments, you were almost positive you’d somehow messed it all up, “Din, I-I do. Love you. And I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable or makes whatever this is weird. But now you know…”

“I’ve known,” he promised softly, “you do everything with love, cyar’ika. I’ve been afraid in a way that if I admitted my feelings to you that somehow I’d walk up and realize that this was all a dream.”

“It’s even better than a dream, it’s real,” you smiled at him and you could slowly see the corners of his tug up, “and we’ll always be here for you.”

“It feels strange,” his anxious fingers were tracing aimless shapes into your skin as he mulled over his own thoughts, “knowing that you’re always going to be here. That I can just share anything with you.”

“Anything,” you reiterated firmly, but softly, “the good and the bad and everything in between. That’s what partners and families are for.”

“Yes,” he agreed quietly, “you’re right.”

"None of us are perfect at this," your voice grew even more tender and soft, "but it's all about learning and growing together. And that's what I want to do with you, Din. If that's what you want too."

"It is," the subtle bit of reassurance was all you needed to feel like you were melting into the pillow, "I do…I care for you very much. Even if I'm not the best at expressing that."

"You don't have to say it," he seemed so much lighter already, as if this was exactly what he needed to hear, "you always show us. That's enough - more than enough."

"Thank you," he reached for your hand and pressed a kiss to your knuckles, "for everything."

"There's nothing to thank me for. You do just as much for me, even if you don't see it. I do - I see who you are," you put your hand on his cheek and gently rested it there, "I see that you are a good, kind man with a heart that's always looking out for others. I want to do the same for you, I want to take care of you too."

"C'mere," his hand found your hip and he started pulling you closer to his warm body, "is this okay? Can I hold you?"

"Yes," you shuffled the rest of the way onto him so you were lying on top of him. There was faint morning light that was filtering in through the window, illuminating his face in a beautiful glow, "of course."

He grinned back at you, managing to look both calm and confident as well as boyish and shy. Unable to stop yourself, you leaned down and kissed him softly. His lips almost felt like your own personal heaven against yours. 

"Does it bother you?" His eyes were curious as he watched intently, "that we do not…have a label for this?"

"No," you laid your head on his chest and listened to the steady thumping of his heart, "I don't think we need a label for everything. We know what we are and that is all that matters."

“You are so…” he waved his hands around for a moment causing you to giggle softly.

“So large, crazy, wild?” you guessed and you could see the small smile tugging up the corners of his mouth.

“Vast,” he answered after a moment of thoughtful contemplation, “everything.”

“Oh,” your cheeks warmed up at his sentiment as Din wrapped his arms around your waist, hugging you to his body, “that’s…you’re incredibly vast to me too.”

You both knew exactly what each of you were saying without needing to go into further detail. You trailed your lips along his jaw and down his neck, and along his collarbone before sighing wistfully. 

“Are we okay, Din?” you asked as you ran his hand through his soft curls lightly scratching at his scalp, “are you okay?”

“Yes,” this time you believed. It seemed like the weight of the world was slowly lifted off his shoulders, “better now.”

“Good,” you whispered softly, “even if I don’t understand or you don’t want to tell me, I’m here for you. Even if it’s just a body to hold onto or just an ear to silence without comment. I’m here.”

“I know,” he pushed a lock of hair behind your ears, and ghosted his fingers along your jaw, “I’m here too. Always.”

“I know,” you echoed back at him, earning a small huff of laughter from him, “always.”

[pettyprocrastination]

hiiiiii tj <3

i see you're back in your konig era and was wondering if you have any new hcs for our big teddy bear <3

HIIII ERIIIII :D

warnings: description of bullying, violence, social anxiety, insecurities, smut

SFW

So for me personally he’s very. Socially inept. Not in a ‘cute soft anxiety boy’ way but in the way that he will come off either deeply unsettling by staring at you in silence or like a total fucking asshole. Spent his entire childhood severely bullied and ostracized so any sort of slight against him, he will take personally and gets easily frustrated with himself for not handling situations/social intricacies smoothly

Probably has plenty of stretch marks from having such a big growth spurt growing up. 

Something about being severely bullied and then realizing his own size and strength means he could give his harassers some ferociousness back as a teen def…led to something. 

I HC that he has some pretty severe scarring on his face from being ganged up on as a kid, which only furthered him being an outsider to other kids/teens growing up so he wears his hood or some sort of facial covering on base as well. Severe trauma and all that. 

Most definitely has a criminal record from when he was a kid and fought back against a bully after said incident and ended up just getting tunnel vision and…destroying that poor kid. The case was either sealed because he was a minor or expunged completely because the argument was that it was in self defense and he had the scars to prove their previous assaults on him. Nonetheless. It left him fucked up. 

Shifting from being the defenseless kid being harassed and bullied to a bloodied teenager that now knows his strength and his capabilities in defending himself. Ough. 

Part of the reason he sheds his insecurities on the field. He’s able to not worry about being watched or ridiculed and just go full fucking ham and he loves it. Part of the reason why his voice lines are so shrieky and gloating. I love it lmao. 

If you’re on his side/somebody he considers to be an ally/friend? He may not talk much but will sort of…loom about. Small interjections here and there but overall just this shadow following you around- not that you mind. 

Will look over at you when he does something successfully for a bit of praise like ‘hey? Did you see that? Wasn’t that cool? Please tell me im cool’ without saying it outloud. 

I’m not sure if him being 6’10 is genuine canon (i can’t remember where I saw that if im being honest) but id imagine given how tall he looks finding clothes that fit him are a fucking pain. 

DIY king. At his height and size he will have to do the occasional alterations on his clothes. Grew up with a single mother who did her all to give her baby boy a good life which meant teaching him how to sew from a young age, a small hobby he would partake in while sitting at his mother’s side and beam bright when she told him he was doing a good job. 

Enjoys being in the wilderness quite a bit. 

I imagine him to be a ginger for some reason. His hair isn’t too long but enough that he can tie it up so it doesn’t get in his face. If you become close enough to him that you can see him without his hood on, please run your fingers through his hair he will reach nirvana. 

I’d also imagine that after spending so long covering his face, being without it feels. Weird. A touch overstimulating at first too. 

Sort of like how in that one ep of the mandalorian season two where din has to take off his helmet to get into that database, you see all his emotions and him react to the wind hitting his face because he isn’t used to it. 

NSFW

That being said. Once you kiss him he’s a bit of an addict for it. Won’t be out of the norm to find him pulling you back into his lap with a whisper of “one more, liebling? Please?” when you have to leave for a briefing in five minutes but then he nibbles at that spot on your neck and you just can’t say no to him. 

Not a virgin, but not overly experienced either. I’d imagine there’s been a few flings in the past of folks who have met this quiet giant and just had to suck him off cause I mean, who wouldn’t? But the genuine intimacy of face to face, holding one another while fucking? It’s a rarity he hasn’t truly been able to experience yet. 

Big dick and doesn’t realize it.

Loves a good makeout sesh. Doesn’t care if it’s juvenile or whatever if you sit on his lap and put on a movie in the background he will make out for fucking hours with his hand slipping up your shirt and pressing himself against your hips.

Tit man. Maybe it’s because I’m a fan of the honkers myself and i'm just projecting but the dude loooves to play with his partner’s chest. Big? small? Flat? He doesn’t give a fuck. Titties are titties please for the love of god let him touch you 

Kinda goes insane for the type of shirt where he can see the outline of your tits through it if you aren’t wearing a bra. Don’t be surprised if he corners you during the day and scolds you for being “So cruel” to him by wearing it before he starts mouthing at your chest through the fabric. 

Kissing, sucking, biting, licking, the man loves tits and will do it all god bless him. 

Nipple piercings will make his head explode

Loooves eating pussy. SO so much. Will go to the point where you have to pull on his hair to get him off of you and then he has the audacity to look at you with those sad eyes and ask for one more. 

Loves loves loves when you leave hickeys on him. He’ll never get in trouble for having them since he’s covered from head to toe at all times in the field but man does it get him riled up. Sees it as some sort of mark of your relationship to him, a little reminder for him to see in the mirror after your night together and he will plead for you to mark him up, he’s tough he can take it. 

“You can do it for me, can’t you? I know you can. Just one more, yes?” 

The type to kiss the pussy first, he’s a romantic. 

Will mumble/moan praise while between your legs. Talking about how pretty your pussy is and how you're so soft all over it has you completely braindead. 

Absolutely obscene with it, moaning and sloppy damn near drooling between your legs because he’s so drunk on you. 

Has no preference to where he gets to cum. Sex with you is joy itself but if you were to twist his arm: he’d say he likes to cum inside of you. 

He won’t say that he likes it so much because then he can lean back and watch his cum seep out of your hole, that’s his little secret. (Not a well kept one lmao) 

Probably has a porno-esque fantasy of a “sparring turned to sex” scenario that he keeps tucked away in the back of his mind at all times.

[underdark-dreams]

Hey idk if you only write Tav x character but I am STARVED!!! Starved I say! For Karach x Dammon content. It just makes so much sense and as someone who remained platonic with Karlach I still wanted her to get some action and seeing how Dammon was RIGHT! FUCKING! THERE! It makes sense that they could maybe hook up and he’s been invested in helping her too and huuuuuuuUUUUUUUUH.

I know you like writing about them tieflings so if eventually if you are able you could write the two of them going at it like the touch starved babies they both are (Karlach for obvious reasons and Dammon bc he’s probably focused on his work most of the time).

I’m still shook over your Rolan x Tav fanfic you wrote and I can’t wait to see what you write in the future!

Dammon x Karlach [Explicit]

Touchable

"Damn I'm good. And you, you're...very touchable." An infernal blacksmith and a Blood War veteran walk into a bar. Who would have guessed that Dammon is a natural when it comes to handling fire?

Tags: Explicit Sexual Content, Gentle Angst, Sweet/Hot

Word Count: 3,460 [Read on AO3]

“Of course, you’ll need to install it yourself.”

"Of course, of course—can’t touch the giant flaming woman," Karlach grinned at him. 

Dammon often noticed that Karlach smiled when things made her sad. He remembered the moment well, remembered each time he'd been given an opportunity to help tune that engine of hers.

Their most recent conversation stuck out with particular pain in his mind.

He'd spent many late nights burning the candles down in his room as he sketched and diagrammed and theorized. No matter how many sheets of parchment he filled, Dammon kept arriving at the same awful conclusion.

Even with his niche skills, he was all out of options for Karlach. She could either return to the sustaining fires of Avernus, or live on this plane however long she could manage before her engine was snuffed out.

Dammon couldn't even calculate whether she had years left or only months. Somehow, that made it so much more terrible.

Karlach took the news with superhuman optimism, the way she approached most things. She thanked him with tears in her eyes for at least giving her back the chance to touch and be touched. For that, her first hug in ten years was his. 

Hopefully it wouldn't be the last, Dammon found himself thinking, as her warm body pressed up firmly against him. She wasn't the only one who was long overdue for some physical affection.

Dammon had always thought of her now and then as he worked in his forge. Usually it was idle and passing, wondering whether her infernal parts were giving her any trouble. 

But lately, it was hard to shake her from his mind at all. Had she found someone to finally take to bed yet? Surely so, with how many years she'd be confined to unwilling celibacy. 

It embarrassed him to admit, but he fervently wished it could've been him. He wasn't much more than a humble smith, and she was practically the city’s hero at this point. How many times had she saved his own life? He'd lost track.

All these thoughts ran through Dammon's mind from where he sat at the bar of the Blushing Mermaid. As he surfaced from his reflection, the din and noise of the place pressed against his ears again.

Not as reputable as the Elfsong, perhaps, but it was closer to his forge. And it was easier to be left to yourself when all the other patrons were already piss-drunk.

"Hey, soldier!"

A friendly hand clapped his back, causing Dammon to nearly choke on his pint as Karlach slid into the seat beside him.

"Sorry," she said with a grimace, but her eyes were sparkling. "Gods, am I glad to see you."

Dammon wiped his mouth in surprise as she swung her very large mug up on the table. "You too, Karlach," he said with a genuine smile. It was like the very strength of his thoughts had conjured her. She looked better than ever.

"I didn't expect to see you here," he admitted. "I thought you'd be out enjoying the new you."

"Fucking someone's brains out, you mean?" Karlach finished for him. Dammon found her bluntness unbelievably attractive.

"To be honest that's why I'm here," she admitted, and rubbed her neck with a hand. "Camp's a bit awkward at the moment. I may have made a pass at Wyll that wasn't, er…enthusiastically received. Think I scared him off a bit," she finished ruefully.

Very much Wyll's loss, Dammon thought to himself. What he wouldn't give.

"Well, you picked the right place for drowning sorrows," he told her aloud. As if on cue, there was a loud chorus of booing as an empty glass went hurtling across the room to land on the low stage, where the half-orc lute player promptly lobbed it back into the crowd with a shattering crash. Dammon raised his arm out in demonstration of his point; Karlach was already cracking up.

"Fucking missed this city," she laughed, wiping a tear of mirth from her eye. They each took a generous drink of ale.

But Karlach wasn't distracted for long. "I just wish, you know?" She sighed. "I wish I could be with someone who understands a little bit. Sex is fabulous on its own, but I want everything, all of it."

"What's stopping you?" Dammon asked her, wondering what it would take for her to see him as a very viable option.

"So many things," she said. "I appreciate what you've done for me Dammon, please believe that I do, but…I still feel more machine than Karlach." 

"I'm pretty handy with mechanics, you know." Dammon was flirting with her despite himself. He couldn't help it; she was so radiant and lovely as she sat there close beside him.

Karlach finally glanced over at him, and he saw in her eyes that she'd caught it. 

"You must know I like you," she said, her voice low but intense. "Dammon, I like you so much. But you're so lovely, and I'm—" She gestured a hand down her front. "—This. Wild, unstable. What if I end up, I don't know, hurting you somehow?” She looked at him with a pained expression. “A guy like you deserves someone tender, and I'm not sure that's me."

All traces of joking were gone; the air between them had grown serious in a second. Dammon's heart thrummed strong against his ribs, and he reached for her fingers before he could stop himself.

"Maybe forget what you think I deserve, and listen to what I’m saying." He shook his head at her. "Karlach, you talk like you're some kind of monster. So you've got an infernal engine in your chest. And sure, you're tall as hell. But I mean, you've got plenty of—you're not short on any of the—" He was casting around for a gentlemanly way to describe her curves and realizing that it probably didn’t exist.

"Spit it out," Karlach teased him. But her expectant expression made his face grow warm.

"I just wish you wouldn't talk down about yourself like that," Dammon explained. "You're very womanly, and plenty desirable."

"Oh," she said, taken aback. Her free hand fiddled with the handle of her mug. "That's…no one's ever said something like that to me before."

What a damn shame that was. Dammon watched the doubt and confusion work over her features. How long had she thought of herself as nothing more than a tin soldier? He'd fixed what parts of her his hands could tend, but something in the way she saw herself was still broken. 

Dammon squeezed her fingers under his. "Karlach, there's so much about you to love. That I love. You are…an incredibly beautiful woman. Don't you know that?"

Karlach stared at him with wide eyes; her face looked somehow younger and softer. For a person so sure of everyone else's worth, she seemed so blind and unsure of her own.

"I am?" She asked, so quietly it broke his heart a little.

Dammon could only think of answering with a kiss. He leaned in with a careful tilt of the head, eyes on her mouth—in the last second he was elated to feel her lean forward to close the distance.

He would've honestly, truly believed that there were sparks between them. There was the fiery warmth of her skin, but Dammon also felt a tingling jolt between their lips that had nothing to do with her heat. His insides sung at the feeling of her lips moving over his with just as much urgency as he felt.

Dammon pulled her face deeper to him with a hand at the back of her neck. As his tongue explored her mouth and sought hers, he felt one of Karlach’s palms rest against his thigh. He could have choked on the desire that rose in his throat at her touch.

They both pulled away at the same instant.

"Your place?" She prompted, breathless.

"Mine," Dammon agreed. It was only a few minutes away, and though his bed was cramped even for one, he expected they wouldn't be sleeping much.

Dammon dumped some coin on the bar in a rush before they made their way outside. The cool breeze through the streets made him realize just how flushed and heated his skin was. His arm sought Karlach's waist beside him as they walked, and a thrill went through him at how lovely it was to finally hold her close. She seemed to feel the same.

"Gods, I can't wait to ride you," she said huskily. Dammon tried to keep a grip on his composure; her brazen eagerness made it very difficult. He settled for pulling her into a quick, heated kiss as they continued on. 

The two of them practically stumbled over the dark cobblestones of the entryway in their haze, both buzzing with impatience and expectation. By the time his nervous fingers had finally made work of the lock to his quarters, they were on each other before the door had latched behind them.

Karlach's leg hitched up over his hip as she devoured his mouth. Dammon's hand gripped behind her knee at once, holding their bodies steady against each other, kissing her back with sheer years of pent-up enthusiasm.

"You're strong," Karlach said as she surfaced, sounding pleased and surprised at once.

"'I'd hope so, after throwing around that hammer so long."

"You can throw me around." After a pause she added, "That's an invitation."

"I got that," Dammon grinned, absolutely smitten with her, and captured her lips again.

He guided them both toward the far end of his room and tumbled over her when they reached the mattress. His hands grazed the edge of her shirt, desire muddling his understanding of how to undo the many buckles and straps.

She took more pity on him than he deserved. Almost before he could blink she had freed herself of all her clothing, laying back naked before him on his bed. Pale, dim moonlight from the window illuminated her figure.

She was extraordinary.

Dammon quickly tugged his shirt past his snagging horns, wishing to feel her skin against his as soon as possible. Even before his head was free, he felt Karlach’s fingers helping with his pants, tugging them down past his hips and sliding them off onto the floor.

He hovered over her as they gazed at each other. The promise of bare flesh against flesh was almost overwhelming, now they were here. Dammon leaned down to place a tender kiss on her lips and then descended to explore her neck. 

Karlach’s arms clutched him eagerly as he kissed along her soft, warm skin. When he made his way down to her chest, he placed lips tenderly above her breast where the soft ticking of machinery resounded. It may not be a flesh and blood heart, but its rhythm was no less dear to him. She let out a soft, low hum.

Dammon wished he had more patience to linger. But instead he pushed his body down between her thighs, glancing up to check in on her for just a moment. Karlach watched him with a pained expression, lips parted—as if afraid he might not follow through with what his movements suggested. 

He wouldn't be teasing her for one second tonight. Dammon leaned down and ran the warm flat of his tongue up over her center.

His head was jerked slightly to the side as she grabbed at one of his horns with a moan. He didn't break from her, only licked at her steadily, smoothing and spreading her wetness up and over her soft folds. 

Even after all the work he'd done to cool her, she was still molten hot under his tongue—he thanked every god in the universe for his natural resistance. His lips closed firmly over her clit, sucking the spot as his tongue rolled her side to side in an achingly slow rhythm.

"Holy fuck," she panted from somewhere above him. "Holy fuck, Dammon—"

He curled one arm under and around her thigh, used thumb and index finger to spread her better for his mouth. He released his lips’ suction with an obscenely wet sound, replacing it with the circling pad of his thumb. She was delicious, but he sought to taste her deeper.

Dammon's tongue plunged deep into her cunt, so far that his nose pressed against where his fingers worked against her clit. 

Karlach cried out and squirmed violently under his mouth. Dammon's arms held her firm, angling her hips up and open against his searching mouth. His tongue thrust over and over unto her unbelievable heat as he tasted the sweet center of her, felt her satin walls constrict around him with each nudge of his tongue.

By now his own erection pressed painfully into the bed under him. He only shifted a little and continued on. She had so much more time to make up for, and Dammon was determined to be the one to satisfy her.

It wasn't long before Karlach's thighs were trembling against his ears. "Please," she whimpered desperately, nails clutching his hair to hold his face against her, as if begging him not to stop. He wouldn't have dreamed of it. His mouth worked her over with more enthusiasm than ever, swirling and sucking against her hot folds.

When she came around his tongue, the rush of her heat burst against his mouth and gushed out from her core. Dammon thought he might come just from the way her legs clenched desperately to keep his mouth working over her. He lapped up her sweet release faithfully with his tongue, even as his ears took in the far sweeter sounds of her shuddering, gasping moans.

Only once the twitching waves of her climax were receding under his lips did he glance up over her to see her face. 

Karlach’s eyes were closed, an expression of transcendent bliss painting her features. As he watched her pant through parted lips, her eyes opened slightly to look down at him where he still hovered between her thighs. He knew the lower half of his face must be dripping with her climax.

With a guttural sound, Karlach’s legs gripped around his middle to pull him just to where her arms could take over and guide him up over her. Dammon gathered himself just in time to land with palms braced on either side of her.

“Wait—” Dammon started, wishing to clean himself up first, but she was already pulling him into a kiss. She licked across his lips, tasting herself on him, before her tongue demanded entry into his mouth. He yielded more than willingly.

His painfully hard cock grazed her thigh as he moved over her. Karlach groaned into his mouth; the vibration of her lips against his sent yet another rush of blood to his throbbing length.

She broke away with a fresh glint of arousal already building behind her eyes. “Inside,” she directed him. “Right fucking now.”

Dammon needed no more encouragement. With fingers grasping under her back, he firmly lifted her body up and over his lap. The way she landed over him pressed her still-dripping heat against the underside of his cock. A trembling groan escaped him at the sensation. Nevertheless, he gathered himself enough to scoot back against the headboard for support.

Before he could fully prepare himself, Karlach’s hand had guided his tip between her folds. In the next motion, she descended down around his whole length at once.

“Fuck,” Dammon gasped. He wished he could find something more eloquent or romantic to describe the feeling, but his mind was wholly overwhelmed by the fiery warmth that gripped all around his cock. He could even feel her walls still fluttering against him from her recent climax. His fingertips dug into the flesh of her hips.

They crossed glances as she sat still to take him for a moment. Karlach’s eyes shone with desire and excitement, and something almost like love. One of Dammon’s hands slid up along her spine, dipping her neck down, capturing her lips in a tender kiss. He felt his mouth shaking slightly against hers.

“Every time alone, I imagined this,” Karlach breathed against him as they parted. 

Dammon thought he might unravel completely at her words. He leaned back against the hard wood behind him, eyes taking in every beautiful inch of her flesh, inviting her to do whatever she wanted with him.

She accepted the offer wordlessly. As her fingers clasped behind his neck, Karlach rocked her hips up and down over his length. He felt his jaw go slack at the feel of her heat surrounding him, taking him, over and over and over—

Dammon’s grip dug into her hips to add more force with each of her rhythmic thrusts down onto him. He gazed up at her with pure adoration as she took him. The feel of her warm skin against his lit a fire in his chest; his cock throbbed against the hot, squeezing silk of her walls.

“You’re so beautiful,” Dammon gasped before he could think. It was the truth, and she deserved to be told it—she deserved everything. He held her tight on his lap as took him, chasing her next release. Karlach’s hips faltered for a moment, and he realized she was already close.

Dammon felt her thighs trembling against him and pushed his back up straight to hold her closer as she rode his length. His palms pressed against her back, strong forearms circling and supporting her as she started to come apart yet again.

And she did—with a shuddering quake, Karlach grabbed his shoulders and let out a jumbled cry that was some mix of obscenities and his name.

She was incredible. Dammon watched the agony and ecstasy on her face as long as he could bear, as she rode out her second orgasm onto him, as her tight heat gripped and pulsed relentlessly around his cock. In the next moment his eyes squeezed shut as he was thrown wide to the delayed force of his own release, his hands spasming against her back as stars burst bright behind his eyelids.

After a long moment filled with nothing but the sounds of them keening and panting against each other, her chin dropped over his shoulder. Dammon felt her arms circle to grip around him tight.

As he listened to her breathing slow, she began to shake against him again. 

This time it was from the quiet sobs that heaved up from her chest. He held her head against the crook of his shoulder and stroked her hair as her tears flowed, feeling the droplets splash against and roll down his back.

Karlach cried from joy, blessed relief, aching sadness…from the pain of so much lost time and the knowledge of her limited future. It wasn't fair, none of it, and Dammon didn't know a single thing to say that might ease her burdened heart. 

Engine or no, she had more heart than anyone he'd ever known. He could only hold her to him tight as could be.

Seeking to comfort her further, Dammon worked his hips down the bed with her seated on him and tipped their connected bodies gently backwards. She collapsed without resistance on top of and against him. At least he could support her for a while, even if it was just with his silent body. 

After a little while, Karlach raised her head to look at him. Her face was streaked with tear tracks, but she was trying to smile through trembling lips. "I'm s-sorry," she choked out.

Dammon’s heart couldn’t bear it. He silenced her at once with a kiss. "Don't apologize to me," he whispered to her as he broke away, "or to anyone, ever."

He gathered her back up in his arms immediately. Karlach didn’t protest, only rested her cheek against his chest with a shuddering sigh. Dammon was vaguely aware of the sheen of sweat cooling all over his bare skin, but with her warm body nestled back up against him, he was more than comfortable.

Dammon pressed his lips to the skin of her forehead. He closed his eyes to focus on the way his heart beat against her chest; the steady hum of her body reverberated against him in response. Despite everything, the sound was dearer to him than he thought possible.

“Ready to go again?” Karlach asked suddenly. 

Dammon chuckled low in his chest, feeling the delayed ache in his limbs and realizing a bit late that the night’s exertions had only just begun.

“Give me a few minutes,” he requested with a lazy smile. “We’ve got time.”

[dincrypt]

Dad and The Dog

Summary: This.

Content: Fluff. Puppy antics.

Note: Re posting my most popular fic since I’ve decided to emerge from hibernation lol

“If it pisses on my floor once, it's gone.”

A tiny gasp escaped the mouth of your son, his already enormous eyes stretching with concern. You round on Din, bringing a protective hand over the mouth of Grogu’s pod.

“Din,” you chastise, not at all gentle. “Don’t say that! She’s a puppy, accidents are bound to happen!”

From behind your hand, a fuzzy white head popped out, panting so hard it looked like a smile, and barked in Din’s direction. Grogu gave a little cry and tugged his new pet back into the safety of the pod.

Your family was heading back to your ship after an eventful and productive trip to the market, all of you - except for one - ecstatic with the results.

“It’s going to get big you know,” Din pointed out, not even turning around as he stalked forward.

“The man said she’s an Anooba cross. She’ll be smaller than normal,” you countered, reaching back to rub a pair of perky white ears. Grogu grabbed handfuls of her fur protectively as he eyed Din, face somewhere between an adorable attempt at intimidation and a downright pout.

You could hear Din grumbling under his breath, pressing a control on his vambrace as you approached the ship. “Sure, crossed with a Massiff for all we know…”

You ignored him to help Grogu and his new puppy climb out of the pod. Two sets of miniature feet took off up the ramp. She immediately set about exploring her new home, nose to the floor as she ran in a zigzag, tiny owner right on her heels.

“Hey, keep that thing contained,” Din snapped as he followed them, pressing a button to close the hatch.

You sighed and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Hey,” you tried softly, hoping to diffuse the frustration clearly boiling under that armor. “Why are you being like that? I thought you liked dogs?”

“I do,” he argued. “Just not in a small space full of important things that can be chewed or peed on.”

“I’m sure your five crates of sonic charges can handle a little puppy teeth,” you said with an eye roll.

Din tilted his head, and years of reading a blank visor told you of his exasperation. You smiled and reached up to pull his helmet off, revealing the long suffering frown you expected. Setting it aside, you placed soft hands on his cheeks, running your thumbs back and forth.

“Come on. He needs this. Didn’t you just say a while back it would be nice for him to have someone his own size to play with?” As you spoke, a chorus of barks and delighted coos rang in the background.

Din’s shoulders drooped and his brows furrowed. “Yes! But I meant…” he gestured between the two of you, “I meant a sibling.”

“Well, think of this as like…a stepping stone to that. First he gets a puppy. Then a sibling.”

“Why the hell does there need-“

A loud crash cut him off, and he spun around to see Grogu and his pup sprawled on the floor, the contents of Din’s tool box scattered around them. The puppy clambered to her feet and pounced on Grogu, lavishing his face with wet kisses which he accepted in pure delight. Din frowned deeply and turned back to you.

“Why does there need to be a stepping stone? I don’t see how a puppy will prepare him for a sibling.”

With a gentle sigh and shake of your head, you leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek. “It makes him happy. Isn’t that enough?”

You didn’t wait for a response, instead tapping his face gently with your palm before leaving to help Grogu pick up his mess. Din watched you, confusion and frustration etched into his scowl. The puppy bounced around your feet as you bent to gather the tools, giving each one an experimental gnaw.

With the smallest sneer and the slightest huff, Din retreated to the cockpit for what he expected to be his last ounce of peace for a very, very long time.

~

Code Red. Code. Kriffing. Red.

Or, technically, code yellow.

Grogu was hysterical. Sucking in enormous breaths faster than his little lungs could handle, cries piercing through the hull as he pointed at the puddle that managed to be directly next to the absorbing pads. You were on your knees in front of him, desperately trying to reach through the panic.

“Hey, hey, calm down baby it's alright.” You held his face and wiped the little tears away. He continued to sniffle. “Look at me.” You held him more firmly, eyes on his. “Daddy didn’t mean what he said, ok? He’s not going to take your puppy. I promise.”

That managed to break through, barely. With another deep breath, his cries lessened.

“And even if he did - which he didn’t - all we’d have to do is this…” You reached for the absorbing pad and placed it over the mess, promptly wiping away every ounce of evidence. “See? He’d never even know.” You smiled and winked playfully.

Grogu stared blankly at the pad, then looked at you, mouth turning up in an adorable grin. You laughed and looked around for the offender, who had ducked into hiding the moment her owner started to cry.

“Verd’ika?” You called. The choice of a Mandoa name was not coincidental. Though you suspected the attempt of endearing her to Din had accomplished very little.

She appeared hesitantly from behind a cargo box, puffy tail between her legs, back spines laid flat. You gave her a sympathetic, yet stern look.

“Verd’ika, you know what you did, don’t you?”

She scurried over to Grogu, burying her face in his cloak and refusing to look at you. Grogu hugged her, not contributing at all to your attempt at discipline. With a defeated sigh, you gathered up the soiled pads and tossed them in the incinerator.

“I suppose you’re beating yourself up enough already.” You bent down and stroked her head. Then looked at Grogu. “Go get the cleaner sweetheart. Let’s make sure the floor is nice and clean before daddy gets home.”

He nodded urgently and waddled off, his ever-present white shadow following.

~

Clan Djarin’s newest edition managed to have multiple accidents throughout the day. No matter how many treats you placed on the pads, no matter how highly you praised and encouraged every time she sniffed them, something about cold metal apparently made it the ideal location for relief. The floor was scrubbed spotless by the time Din returned.

He removed his helmet with narrowed eyes, carbonite chamber still humming with the acquisition of his newest bounty. You appeared from the bunk, all smiles.

“Welcome back dear, how’d it go?”

“Fine...” he answered slowly, eyeing the floor.

You swept yourself into his arms and kissed him, hoping to redirect that concerning gaze. He kissed you back, absently, and you could tell his eyes were open, still fixed on the floor. You put your hands around his neck and kissed him a little harder.

Unfortunately, it only served to make him more suspicious. He pulled away from you with a frown.

“It peed on the floor didn’t it?”

“It’s a she,” you corrected.

“She peed on the floor.”

“I have no idea what you-“

You were spared the completion of your lie by Grogu’s entrance. He waddled to his dad with outstretched arms, smiling. Din bent down to accept him, throwing an uncertain glare at his snow colored companion.

“Hey buddy,” Din said softly as he lifted his kid. Verd’ika pawed at his boot. “Anything exciting happen today?”

Grogu drew his lips in and shook his head. Din glanced between both of you, brows raised in an expression of innocence and wonder. “Really? Nothing at all?”

Two heads shook in confirmation. Din looked down at his feet. “How about you?” He said to Verd’ika, “Anything to confess?”

Verd’ika barked once, front paws sliding forward as her rump lifted in the air, tail whirring. “Is that so?” Din looked to you in mock surprise. “She says she peed on the floor today.”

You gasped and snatched the puppy up, holding her out in front of you with an accusatory glare. “Verd’ika, how could you? Lying to your father that way!” You turned her around in your arms to face Din. “Tell him the truth Verd’ika, tell him what a good girl you’ve been.”

She barked once more, squirming as she craned her neck back to nip at your chin.

“That’s better. See Din?”

Disbelief dripped from his features. Thankfully, instead of pushing the argument, he just rolled his eyes and brushed past you on his way to the cockpit, Grogu still in his arms.

Before he could take another step, Grogu let out a cry of protest, reaching behind him for Verd’ika. Din sighed and turned around, bringing him close enough to scoop the puppy from your arms.

You watched with an unabashed grin as your riduur clambered up the ladder, arms full of squirming dog and child.

~

Nights on the ship were peaceful.

Rather, the artificially timed darkness designed to preserve some semblance of a circadian rhythm while deep in hyperspace, was peaceful.

Din was a light sleeper, and still not used to extended lengths of inactivity, even with the balance you brought to his life. It wasn’t unusual to find him missing from your bed throughout the night, fiddling with whatever mundane task he picked up in an attempt to quiet his mind.

After waking up for a second time to find him gone, you decided to go looking for him. When the usual tinkering couldn’t do the trick, more often than not your voice could, a few sweet words of encouragement lulling him back into bed.

The cockpit was the first place you checked. He found something soothing in the gentle, repetitive nature of flying the ship, even when it wasn’t necessary. Sometimes it was all he needed to relax enough to allow him to sleep. Other times, he needed you.

You found him there, unsurprisingly. As you crested the ladder you caught sight of his head above the pilots seat, brown locks messy with unsuccessful sleep, shoulders moving with what little effort flying through clear space required.

What did surprise you, was the white ball of fur at his feet, staring up at him.

Din was speaking. Quietly. You stayed on the ladder, tilting your head to hear him better.

“I’m not giving you any,” he grumbled, and with a glance to the side you realized he was talking about the package of jerky pieces he was snacking on. “Quit asking.”

Verd’ika let out a small whine, reaching forward to paw his socked foot. Din looked down at her. “What? I said no.”

She didn’t let up. Her head creeped forward, eyes on Din’s face. Her lips quivered with a barely muted bark.

“Ssh!” He snapped, finger to his lips. “They’re sleeping.”

You covered your mouth to contain the laugh bubbling in your chest. For someone who claimed to not be interested in this dog, he sure was having quite the conversation with her.

“Alright, look, here,” He retrieved a piece of jerky and tossed it in her direction. Verd’ika snatched it right out of the air, swallowing it whole.

“Hey…” Din said, tone just on the edge of impressed. “Good job.”

She licked her lips and tossed her head up. He shook his head. “Now you’re just pushing it.”

She insisted, once again batting at his feet with a string of quiet whines. Din growled and grabbed the package. “Fine, but you’re gonna have to work for it. I don’t suppose they’ve actually been training you, have they?” He held a piece of jerky up above her head. “Sit.”

She cocked her head at him, ears pricked, and slapped her tongue across her jowls. Din sighed.

“Didn’t think so.” He scooted forward in the pilots chair, setting the package aside but still holding a piece in front of her. He reached forward to place his other hand on her back, at the base of her tail. “Look Verd’ika, sit.”

He pushed her rump down to the floor as he said the word, her eyes still glued to the jerky. “Good girl!” He gave her the meat and she scarfed it greedily, immediately standing back up.

“No, you’re not supposed to-“ he started, reaching for another piece. “Alright come here, lets try again…”

With a grin, you turned and headed back down the ladder before he saw you.

~

You woke up to the sound of Din loudly calling your name.

“Come here! Bring Grogu!”

Your knee-jerk, sleep soaked reaction was panic. Only when he called you again and you heard the laughter in his voice were you able to calm down, slipping out of bed with a groan. You found Grogu in a similar state, groggy eyed as he rolled out of bed at the sound of his father’s voice. You picked him up and headed for the cockpit just as Din called you for a third time.

“We’re coming!” You answered, trying to keep the irritation from your voice.

Your steps were heavy up the ladder as sounds of barking and a few low chuckles reached your ears. In the cockpit, you found Din standing with Verd’ika in front of him, a handful of jerky in his palm as she watched him with rapt attention. He smiled at you as you entered.

“Watch this,” he said excitedly, holding up a treat. Verd’ika stood at attention.

“Sit!”

Immediately, her behind sunk to the floor. Din glanced at you, looked pleased at your impressed smile, then turned back to the puppy.

“Lay.”

Her paws slid the rest of the way down until her belly touched the floor.

“Good girl!” He tossed her the treat, which she inhaled.

“Did you see that buddy?” Din asked his wide-eyed boy. Grogu smiled with a happy sounding gurgle. Din walked over and took him from your arms, Verd’ika barely a step behind. “She’s pretty clever huh?”

You nodded your agreement, watching as Din placed a treat into Grogu’s palm. “You wanna try? Give it to her when-“

The second the meat touched his hand, Grogu tossed it to Verd’ika. Din stuttered half a movement at grabbing it, stopping short as it disappeared into a set of sharp white fangs, gone. He dropped his head before turning to Grogu.

“No buddy, after she listens, ok?”

Two dark eyes stared blankly at him, blinking once. Din held up another treat. “You hold it. I’ll tell her what to do. When she listens, give it to her. Ok?” He hesitantly placed the meat into Grogu’s waiting palm.

This time, he held it. Din nodded and looked to Verd’ika. “Sit.”

She sat. Grogu dropped the meat and it promptly disappeared.

“There you go! Good job buddy!” He bent down to pat the puppy’s head, “Good girl Verd’ika!”

You laughed delightedly and squeezed his shoulder. “Glad you two are finally getting along.”

Din shrugged nonchalantly, not quite meeting your eye. “Well...she’s finally listening.”

“Suuuure,” you droned, reaching down to pick her up. “And I’m sure her being completely adorable has nothing to do with it, right?” You held her out in presentation, and Verd’ika cocked her head as she looked at Din, as though attempting to contribute to your point.

He rolled his eyes and fought a smile, then tugged you forward to place a kiss on your forehead. “Well,” he leaned down to kiss Grogu as well, “I suppose it’s no secret I have a weakness for adorable things.”

~

The grocery bag was heavier than the last time you slung it over your shoulder.

Your eyes narrowed as you adjusted the strap, immediately knowing who the culprit was. Or rather, culprits.

You turned around in the middle of the dusty market street, eyeing your riduur and son, who stopped short behind you. Any time they came along on shopping trips, they had a habit of ganging up on you, flooding your limited carrying space with useless treats. That’s why you were the only one who got to carry the grocery bag anymore.

At the sight of your glare, Din tilted his helmet in question.

“What did you two sneak in here?” You asked, jostling the strap over your shoulder. Grogu’s mouth dropped and he looked to his father.

“Nothing,” Din said easily.

“Its heavier than it was a few minutes ago.”

“Aww, then I’ll carry it for you cyare,” he reached for the bag but you took a step back.

“No no, I’m simply giving you a chance to come clean before I open it up and find out.”

Din exchanged a look with Grogu, then shrugged at you. You gave them a final warning glare before peering down into the bulging sack at your side. In it, a top your own selections of spices and balanced ration meals, sat two sleeves of cookies and three packages of jerky. You looked back up to see Din peering over, as if he too was curious of the contents.

“Huh.”

“Huh indeed,” you droned, pure sarcasm. “Wonder where those came from.” Din’s helmet rumbled with a low chuckle and you smiled. “That’s a lot of jerky. I don’t think Verd’ika can eat it all.”

“It’s for me,” Din said immediately.

You dropped your head incredulously. “Really? Three packages just for you?”

“Yep.”

“And you’re not gonna give any to her?”

He shrugged. “Well, maybe if she’s good. But it's not for her.”

You made sure he could see every ounce of disbelief on your face before turning and leading the way back home.

He never did admit it. Just as you never admitted to waking up that night and hearing him in the cockpit, voice scarcely above a whisper through the faint sounds of a crinkling bag,

“Verd’ika. Look what I got you.”

~

Week five of life with a puppy came, and there was hair on your bed. Short, white, unmistakably canine, and only on Din’s side. You stared at it, smirk growing at the same time your eyes narrowed. You called for Din and he poked his head into your quarters.

“What’s this?” You asked sweetly, gesturing to the fur scattered on the sheets.

He peered at it suspiciously. “What’s what?”

“This dog hair. Did you have Verd’ika on our bed?”

“No,” he said quickly. A little too quickly.

You placed your hands on your hips. You didn’t mind if she slept in the bed with you, not at all. But the fact that he was being sneaky about it and clearly trying to hide it, made teasing him simply irresistible. “Really? Then how did it get here? Only on your side?”

He shrugged. “She must have snuck up there at some point.”

“Ah. Well then,” you took a step toward the door, “I suppose I should get on to her.”

“No!” He stopped you with a firm hand on your shoulder. You gave him a look of utter bafflement and he retracted, cheeks flushing pink. “I mean...it’s too late now. You have to catch them in the act. She won’t understand.”

“Ah...I see...” you nodded as though the thought was very wise. “In that case I’ll just keep a better eye on her then.”

He returned your nod, just as serious but no more convincing. “Good. Me too.”

You didn’t.

The hair returned most mornings. No matter how many times you settled Verd’ika next to Grogu in his bed, there was almost always a fresh batch of fur waiting for you. It was always less than that first time, and you recognized the signs of an unsuccessful attempt at brushing it away. The stubborn stragglers were his downfall.

Rather than confront him again, you decided to let it slide. He wasn’t going to come clean any time soon.

~

After several months of living with a Verd’ika and a Din who insisted his tolerance of her was minimal, he dropped a shocking statement over dinner one night.

“I was thinking I might start some extra training with Verd’ika.”

You froze. Eyebrows raised, fork halfway in your mouth. You lowered it slowly to answer him. “What kind of training?”

Grogu had also perked up at the mention of his pet’s name, long ears pointed in Din’s direction. Below the table, a shuffle of paws told you Verd’ika had heard it too.

Din swallowed a mouthful of soup, then spoke nonchalant as ever, “Thought she may have the potential to be a good guard dog. For when I’m gone. It’d be nice to know there’s someone looking after you two.”

Your grin was determined, but you smothered it down, cheeks aching and pulling. It had taken barely any time for Din to go from “one accident and she’s gone” to, “I would like to leave those I love most in the care of this creature.” The thought was nearly too much for your heart to bear.

“It’s a good idea love, but do you think she’ll be big enough?”

He nodded. “Anooba’s get big. And I don’t buy what that vendor said for a second. He probably just heard me complain that we wouldn’t have room.” As he spoke, he tore off a piece of his bread and slowly lowered it beneath the table. You heard the smacking of lips below, followed by the reappearance of his empty hand.

Grogu, ever the imitator, did the same. A set of four eager paws skittered over your feet on their way to the little green hand holding out bread under the table.

“Keep that up and she’s going to be too fat to guard anything,” you laughed, even as you tore off a piece of your own bread for her.

Din scowled in offense. “Of course not. She’ll just build muscle.” He tilted his head to look under the table. “Isn’t that right Verd’ika?”

A muffled, bread-filled bark answered him in confirmation.

~

When you were little, you had been certain that a litter of loth cats someone had dropped off outside your home were the most adorable thing you had ever, and would ever, see. Six little bundles of multicolored fur, mewling and crying until you had warmed and fed each one. They held the top spot on your cute rank for years.

Then you met Din. Six foot with his helmet on, covered in armor, who hunted down criminals for a living. He immediately over took the loth kittens in terms of adorable. Next you met your son, and the two had been neck and neck ever since.

But this. This took the cake. Nothing in the universe would ever be cuter. You’d stake your life on it.

Din was on his knees, in the middle of a field on some grass planet you couldn’t remember the name of. His arm was wrapped up in one of his shirts, encouraging a confused Verd’ika to bite him while Grogu stood to the side, treats at the ready. Late afternoon breeze whipped through the fur of all three, white, brown, and sparse.

“Come on sweetheart, just like last time,” Din cooed. “Edeemir!” Bite.

Verd’ika dropped down on her front paws and tossed her butt in the air, tail whipping. Din sighed and shook his head with a smile.

“Your name is little warrior. Act like it.”

He started at her, arm jerking forward in a mock attack. Verd’ika barked in delight and lunged, chomping down on his padded forearm with all the force her little jaws held.

“Good girl!” Din praised loudly. On cue, Grogu stepped forward with a treat. “That’s a clever girl, good job sweetheart!” He petted her back and scratched behind her ears as Grogu babbled his own sounds of praise, stumbling forward to pet his puppy.

You shook your head with a laugh. At this rate, your only worry was that Verd’ika would begin biting people randomly in anticipation of her treat and praise parade.

“Are you sure that’s the best method dear?” You asked.

Din looked up at you with a bright smile, still petting Verd’ika. “Of course.”

“I’m just worried she’s going to start biting and thinking she’ll be rewarded for it.”

He shook his head. “No no, she’s learning to bite on command. She’ll only be rewarded if she does it when told.”

You grimaced uncertainly. “Alright, if you say so…”

They practiced and played until the sun fell low in the sky. With the short attention span of both younglings, it didn’t take long for anything resembling training to fade into games of fetch and chase.

Eventually you found yourself darting through thick grass, Verd’ika at your side. Behind you, Grogu held onto Din’s back as they gave chase, strong arms reaching out as they ran. You laughed and screamed as his fingertips brushed you, pushing harder with a dodge to the left. Verd’ika contributed by running as close to your feet as possible, jumping up to snap your clothes at every opportunity.

Inevitably, he caught you. Your run came to an abrupt halt in his vice like grip, a strong chest at your back as you screamed in the happiest way. Din pulled all three of you onto the grass in a heap of limbs and laughter. Grogu crawled up to Din’s chest, holding his arms out for Verd’ika as she launched into the fray. Din huffed and groaned dramatically as her heavy paws pounded onto his chest.

As your laughter faded into uneven breaths, one of your hands reached up to pet Verd’ika, the other sneaking into Din’s hair. He rolled his head to the side and looked at you, face framed by deep green blades, smile the brightest you’d ever seen it, dimpled cheeks flushed with exertion. Above you, your son clung to his puppy, smiling at his parents.

The sunset warming your body was ice compared to the warmth sprouting from your heart.

~

You stayed awake a little longer that night, hoping to finally catch visual proof of what you already knew was happening once you drifted off to sleep. After kissing Din goodnight, you turned with your back to him, waiting a few minutes before intentionally letting your breaths deepen and slow.

You expected him to get up, and return with her. Instead you were surprised when, after several long minutes of anticipation, you heard a faint scratch at the door, followed by it sliding open. There were foot taps on metal, then a dip in the mattress. Din murmured a greeting and you covered your mouth with your hand to contain a laugh.

She was trained alright. Like clockwork.

Slowly, hoping to catch him unawares, you turned. In the darkness you could make out Din’s back, a pair of snow white ears perking behind his shoulder.

You reached over carefully until your hand brushed his spine. Din inhaled sharply and stiffened. Caught. With a smile, you closed the distance between you, bringing your chest against him as your hand slipped around his ribcage to pet Verd’ika’s soft head.

“Softie,” you whispered in his ear. You kissed his cheek and felt him smile.

“Me?” He mumbled in a sleep-tainted voice, “Never.”

You grinned and kissed him again just as the door slid open for a second time. You looked up to see Grogu in the threshold, no doubt in search of his missing puppy. With a wave, you beckoned him over.

Din leaned across Verd’ika to lift Grogu on the bed, then rolled to face you, bringing both babies with him. Sheets shuffled as you scooted back to give them room, Grogu settling next to Din as he held onto Verd’ika, her soft back curling against your stomach. Four sets of slow breath filled the air, quiet and content.

Din’s eyes met yours across the pillows, warmth and love etched across the face you adored, his hand traveling back and forth between his son and his dog before finally settling on his riduur.

You both reached across the narrow space that separated you, holding onto each other, your universe safe and sleeping in the warmth of your embrace.

[scuttling]

I Can Handle Me A Dangerous Man - Ch 4

Fandom: True Blood (TV) Pairings: Eric Northman/Female Reader or Eric Northman/OFC Word Count: 4,797 Tags: 18+, NSFW in later chapters, Flirting, Brief assault Summary: Cam believes she's being followed, and Eric intends to be the one to keep her safe.

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6

Cam goes for a run just after dark, when the sun has finally set and the stifling heat is a little more manageable. Her neighborhood is perfect for it, the streetlamps glowing soft yellow as she passes, the soles of her shoes hitting the sidewalk, then the pavement when she crosses the street. A few other locals walk their dogs, or take an after-dinner stroll, or sit on the porch with a nightcap, the blinking of fireflies illuminating their faces for a brief second. 

It would be enjoyable, except she feels like someone’s watching her.

She already knows never to take the same path twice, something she adopted in Chicago as not just a woman alone, but one with a target on her back. Her preferred route would be down Wildwood, across to Poplar, and around a cul-de-sac of newly constructed homes, but that backs her up against a wall with nowhere to go if she’s cornered, so she nixes the thought immediately. 

The path she ultimately takes makes no sense, and that’s intentional; if someone’s still watching her, or worse, following her, she’ll be able to pick them out relatively simply, if she listens to their mind. She takes a left where the sidewalk is considerably bumpier, something she would typically avoid, a right where a tow-truck is taking up much of the alley.

Tuning into her surroundings, she can pinpoint the thoughts of the man walking the German Shepherd across the street, the older couple on the porch swing a few houses down. She can also catch brief flashes of thought, people too far out of range to really hone in on, but that’s about all. 

Unsatisfied, she decides to wrap up her exercise for the night, and she heads back in the direction of home; the closer she gets, the more at ease she feels, but she’s still alert and on the defensive in case she needs to be.

She’s almost half a block from her front door when her phone rings, and Pam’s name is announced through her headphones. She answers the call, breathing heavily. 

“Hey, Pam,” she greets, but Pam nearly cuts her off, quick to get to the point. 

“Eric asked me to check on you. He said he could… feel that something was wrong. Are you okay?” She slowly drawls that word, feeeeel, and Cam frowns, her pace slowing. 

“Yeah, I’m okay… well, I felt like someone was following me a few minutes ago,” she says as an afterthought. “I’m out jogging and I felt that sensation of eyes on me, you know?” 

“Are you getting that sensation now? How far are you from the bar?” Pam asks, her tone calm and even. Cam can barely hear her over the din of background noise usually associated with the club.

“No, I’m walking up to my front door now,” she tells her, pulling her keys from the pocket of her leggings. Before she inserts the key into the lock, she glances up in thought. “Do you want me to get in the car and drive over?”

“I think Eric would prefer it. I’ll wait for you in the parking lot,” she says, and then the line goes dead. Cam sighs.

“Okay, goodbye to you too,” she mutters to herself as she crosses the porch and goes down the stairs, making her way to the car.

Pam is waiting when she arrives, and she strides across the parking lot in sparkly red stilettos and a black dress as Cam gets out of the car. She pauses while Cam closes and locks the door behind her, then pivots on her heel when Cam walks toward the club.

“Ooh, do I get a bodyguard, now?” Cam teases when Pam falls into step beside her, their arms nearly brushing. Pam tosses her hair over her shoulder and huffs. 

“I consider it more like babysitting,” she replies coolly, and when security opens the door for them, she lets Cam step over the threshold first. “But Eric is concerned, and until his worries are alleviated, I’m stuck with you.” She heads for the bar and asks for a glass of water, Pam on her heels.

“Well in that case, we should really get to know each other. I like piña coladas, getting caught in the rain,” Cam lists satirically, then takes a long glug of water. She turns, hoping Pam is wearing an expression of exasperation or something equally entertaining, but it’s Eric behind her now, and he looks incredibly serious. 

“Someone was following you?” he asks, his eyes flicking over her face, her neck and shoulders where they’re exposed by the sports bra she wears. Cam shrugs and finishes her water. 

“I can’t say for sure—I listened closely, but I couldn’t hear anyone, so if there was someone there, they weren’t human.” That darkens his eyes more than she thought possible, and he steps closer to her, crowding her against the barstool at her back. 

“I don’t want you running alone at night anymore,” he says, his gaze on hers like he’s wishing his glamour worked on telepaths. “And stick to well-lit areas during the day. Ask Sookie to join you,” he suggests, and Cam nearly barks a laugh.

“Sookie, run? Only if something’s chasing her,” she says good-naturedly, but when she thinks about it, the hypothetical seems to hit a little too close to home. She shakes her head to clear the thought. “But I’ll ask Tara, or go to the gym, if that would be better.” 

“That would be better,” Eric answers, voice softer, pleased that she didn’t fight him on the rule. “When you first asked for my protection, you said that you’d made enemies. Did you have a bodyguard in Chicago?”

“Nothing quite so formal,” she says, though she wants to laugh at the thought of being important enough for a bodyguard, especially when she just teased Pam about that very thing. “But I had clients who respected me who would keep an ear out, let me know if anyone was planning something that may jeopardize my safety.” Eric nods his head, and during that moment of silence, she steps a few inches closer to him. Her turn to ask questions. “How did you know I was uncomfortable?”

He hesitates, looks behind her, at the bartenders, and then puts his hand on her shoulder, guiding her away from the front of the room and toward the office. The desire for privacy is fair, she supposes, but when he closes the door and offers her a seat, she refuses, crossing her arms. 

“No thank you. I just want to know how you knew something might be wrong. How you felt it,” she says, recalling Pam’s words. With a deep exhale, Eric takes his seat even though she won’t take hers. 

“A few weeks before you came to town, I consulted with a witch. I know,” he adds with a smirk, “many vampires fear witches, but I’m very progressive. She told me I would meet someone who would help me grow my power, my business, and that all I had to do was be receptive to it. She didn’t mention it would be a human, or a woman, or someone with psychic ability, just that I would know it when I felt it.”

“And you felt it with me?” she asks, taking a step forward and then sinking into the chair opposite him. Any resistance she had to meeting him on his level for this conversation has been swiftly replaced with curiosity. 

“The first night we met,” he answers. “I was drawn to Bon Temps that night, but not for Bill, or Sookie: I was drawn there to meet you.” Cam swallows, her head spinning at the implication, and he continues. “And the more I learned about you, how intelligent you are, how powerful, it became more than mere intuition. I needed you working at my side.” 

It takes a moment for her to form words, but when she does, she tries to make them sound less irritated than she feels. 

“You could have told me that.” Eric drags a hand over his hair, looking more unsure of himself than she’s ever seen him. 

“I didn’t want to scare you away. I wanted to prove myself trustworthy… and I think I have. I think that’s why I was able to feel you like that today.” 

It makes sense to Cam—her path to his mind, that buzzing she hears, has been open, but hers had been closed until… Well, she’s not sure when, exactly, but now that it’s open, that tingle, that tugging in her head, it must go both ways. Maybe it’s not just his presence she can feel. 

“I do trust you, but going forward we should have the expectation of transparency. If you’re talking to a witch about my future, I deserve to know,” she tells him, no nonsense. He nods in agreement, eyes on hers, and she deflates a bit, sighs. “So, does this change things in any way, now that you’ve told me? My contract or anything?”

Eric stands, so she does too, though he towers over her even with the desk between them, like he’s leaning into her space, whether consciously or not.

“I don’t believe so. If you can forgive my misstep, and accept my promise to be honest with you in the future, I would like it if you would continue to work with me as discussed.” After a moment, he holds out his hand for a shake, and she takes it firmly.

“Okay. If you promise to be honest—and know I’ll call you out if I think you’re bullshitting me or hiding things.” The contact breaks, and Eric nods.

“I have no doubts. Do you plan to stay a while?” he asks, looking over her again, but her sweat has been cooling on her skin, and she needs a shower and a change of clothes more than anything.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll go back home,” she says, and he nods his head once in agreement.

“That’s no problem. I’ll escort you back to your apartment,” he says, walking toward the door and opening it. “One of us will escort you home every night, just to be safe, until we find out if someone is indeed watching you.” Her first instinct is to refuse, because she can take care of herself, but she is still a little shaken from the danger earlier, whether perceived or otherwise, so she simply nods her head and lets herself be guided out the door. She did ask for his protection, after all, and he did promise it. 

Eric walks her to her front door, his expression tight as he listens or smells or does whatever vampires do when they’re trying to solve a mystery. Cam stands in the doorway and watches him, smiles gently when he looks back to her face.

“Would you like to come in?” she asks, thinking about what she could offer him in the way of refreshments, good Southern hostess that she is… but she comes up with nothing. She should grab some TruBlood to have on hand, just in case, or more of the wine he’d gifted to her when she moved in.

“No, that’s okay, thank you. You interrupted your evening off when I asked you to; I do not want to take up any more of your time.” It’s really thoughtful of him to say, but when she shifts to say goodbye, she feels the sweaty funk on her skin, and she's instantly embarrassed, sure he must be able to smell it.

“Oh god, it’s because I stink, right? I’m sorry, I came right from jogging—” she begins; she can’t imagine how strong that kind of thing must be to vampires and their superior senses. Before she can finish, Eric leans in extremely close, his nose brushing over the bare line of her neck. He balances his hand on the door frame beside her and breathes her in.

“You smell delicious,” he murmurs, “all of the time,” and after another deep breath, he pulls back to give her space. She manages not to whimper at the loss, even though she kind of wants to, just clears her throat, and the corner of Eric’s mouth twitches almost imperceptibly. “Good night, Camila.”

“Yeah, good night,” she calls as he turns to walk away, her brain still a half-step behind reality. Eric disappears into the night, and, feeling a sudden chill, she heads inside to shower, double locking the door behind her.

Eric feels her, sees her, and smells her all at once. She’s back at Fangtasia, but tonight she wears a short black dress with ruffled sleeves, her legs looking long in a pair of strappy sandals. It would be mouthwatering, if he allowed himself to think of her that way. 

Looking at her, yes that’s fine—it’s impossible not to—but feeling things is wholly out of the equation. 

He waits for her to approach him, can tell by the look on her face she means business tonight, and when she’s within human earshot, he moves toward her. “Camila, what a pleasure.” His eyes linger on her bare legs at his own mention of pleasure. “Did we call on you tonight?” 

“No, I’m doing a little of my own detective work,” she admits, glancing around the bar. “A former client of mine heard about a potential attack on a vampire nest not far from here, thought I might want to check it out. And I knew you’d want to know.” 

Eric presses his hand to the small of her back and they walk toward the back of the club for a little more privacy. 

“Which nest?” he asks, running through recent updates from all of the neighboring sheriffs and wondering which he should inform of her tip. She pulls out her phone and flicks open a text message. “And why do they wish to harm them?” 

“The… Densmore coven,” she says, reading over it, “and he says there’s one vampire in particular they’re after, someone named Flynn. Do you know him?” 

The look on his face when she glances up must say it all, because her expression changes completely.

“Yes, I know him. He’s always made trouble for our kind.” 

“What kind of trouble? Eating kids trouble, stealing wives trouble, graffiti-ing bloody fangs on a monument of some racist old lawmaker trouble?” she offers, texting her contact back. Eric huffs a laugh and shakes his head.

“Nothing like—well, the stealing wives thing, maybe. He enjoys seducing women, likes being their first vampire, if you know what I mean.” Cam looks up at him and exhales, nods.

“Yeah, yeah, I know what you mean. You never forget your first vampire,” she recites, and that is intriguing… even though he wishes it wasn’t. 

“I take it you remember your first vampire?” he asks despite himself, leaning in more closely like being near her is the easiest thing in the world. Like it doesn’t make him want things he knows he can never have.

She ignores him with a playful roll of the eyes, holding up her phone again.

“Has anyone heard of a man asking weird questions around the bar? Trying to get a vampire to take him home, to their home? My friend thinks they might be doing recon.” 

It’s actually a good thing, he thinks, if they’re trying to schmooze someone at the bar: it means they’re amateurs, probably stupid, and not enough of a threat to write to the Queen about. 

“I’ll find out,” Eric says, and he’s gone in a swift rush of air, making the rounds and speaking to all of his staff members. When he returns, she’s already zeroed in on suspect number one. Clever girl.

“Gray button up shirt, trucker hat?” Cam whispers, and Eric shifts to press himself against her back. “Don’t worry, I’ve got him,” she says, and it makes him wonder what she’s getting from him, if she can feel his uncertainty the way he could feel her paranoia when she was out for a run the other day. “Is there somewhere I can take him to get him alone—somewhere you could meet me, terrify him, do your thing?” 

He murmurs an address into her ear, a house just down the block that Pam sometimes uses for entertaining. “I’ll be right behind you—and be careful,” he adds sternly before leaving as quickly as he’d gone before. 

“You’re going to let her leave with that thing?” Pam says when he almost collides with her behind the bar. He watches Cam as she approaches the man, as she slips into a flirtatious smile and lets him put his hands on her hips as they sway to the music.

“He’s harmless; I’ll be watching her the whole time,” he assures, wondering when Pam became fond enough of Cam to be concerned for her wellbeing. Maybe putting her on babysitting duty for a few weeks had been a better idea than he realized.

Getting Trucker Hat alone is easy: Cam flirts a little, dances, tells him that her vampire said she could invite a third and that she wanted him in all of his redneck glory. His clear interest morphs into a shit-eating grin when she mentions that her vampire said they should go back to his place and get started, that he would be along soon to join them. 

“Will you show me where he sleeps?” Trucker Hat asks with a squeeze of her ass as they cross the street just outside the house. Cam slips on a salacious smile and tugs him up onto the porch, turns her back to the front door to give him a very obvious full-body once over. 

“He has a secret spot under the floorboards,” she whispers, in the event no visible coffin is present. If there is one, she can brush it off as a roleplay prop. “I’ll even let you fuck me on top of it.” 

“Hell yeah,” the man drawls, pressing closer to her to grope at her breasts. He's not bad looking, has all of the suntanned, frat boy charm she expected upon first glance, but his hands on her make her want to take a scalding shower and kick him in the balls—though not in that order. She opens the door and leads him inside, steps back to watch him take in the admittedly luxurious decor. 

The foyer is grand and open, leading into a dark and moody sitting room. There are bookshelves built into all of the walls, electric candelabras conveniently lit, and Trucker Hat drops down into the middle of a purple velvet couch, his arms stretched out on either side like a king on his throne. 

“You look so good like that,” she tells him, punctuating it with a bite of her bottom lip. He pulls her into his lap—not what she’d been hoping for, but not altogether unexpected—and hikes up her skirt, so she can feel his erection beneath her, his hands on the thighs spread around him. 

“And you look good on top of me.” He pulls her down for a kiss, but she shifts, gives him a face full of cleavage instead, which earns both a grunt of surprise and a groan of arousal. “Fuck, honey. Want ‘em bouncin’ in my face while you ride my pole.” 

Cam rolls her eyes because she knows he can’t see them—the thing about being alone with a man is that she doesn’t even need to listen to their thoughts. They all spout off at the mouth and just say whatever stupid thing is on their mind anyway—then dips down to meet his gaze. 

“Mmm. Let me give you a massage first,” she counters, running a hand down his chest and stopping at his belt. He swallows hard and nods, then takes her hand and presses it down against his cock. 

“I know you’ve gotta be good at rubbin’,” he says with a wink, and she grins playfully and slides out of his lap, strutting slowly around the sofa until she ends up behind him. 

“I’m good at all kinds of things,” she says, leaning down to purr in his ear. She rests her hands on his shoulders, digs her thumbs into them in a way that she knows has to hurt a little. He exhales sharply, then covers it with a moan as she glides her fingers down to his chest, flipping open his top button, then another. “Have you ever shared a girl with a vampire?” 

His thoughts change then, flash to a pretty blonde woman, then the short, stocky, muscular vampire she now knows to be Flynn—fuck that vamp, man, and that fuckin’ fangbangin’ whore he stole from me. Slut for vampire blood and dick, stupid bitch.

“I don't share,” he says suddenly, angrily, and he reaches back to get a hand in her hair, uses it to pull her closer so that her feet are almost off the ground. He takes a hard kiss that is clearly not meant to bring her pleasure, and she reaches for his face, jamming her fingers into his eyes and earning a howl of pain. It’s then that Eric joins them, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her away from the man’s unkind grasp. 

“Neither do I,” he growls, and when the man stands quickly, surprised, Eric fists a hand in his shirt and yanks him over the back of the couch, depositing him on the floor at their feet. “I heard you plan to take down a vampire nest—you don’t look quite that stupid, but now I can see exactly how small your brain is.” 

Trucker Hat flounders, trips over his own tongue between a series of desperate apologies and outright pleading for his life. Eric maneuvers Cam behind himself, then steps closer to the man, hovering over him as if intending to crush him beneath his shoe. 

“If you harm one of us, you’re dead. If you try to take out a whole nest, I’ll make a snack out of you until you’re begging me for death.” He glances back at Cam, who smooths her skirt, brushes a hand through her hair to regain a semblance of dignity after his halted attack, and then back at the man. “And if you ever so much as look at her again, I’ll kill everyone you’ve ever cared about in front of you and then skin you alive. Do you understand?” When the man can’t manage to get a word out, Eric reaches down and grabs him by the lapels of his shirt—and he pauses for a few seconds because shoving him toward the door. “Leave.” 

Trucker Hat scrambles for the front door and out of the room, and when she can no longer hear his chaotic, frightened mind, Cam releases a long breath she’d been holding in. Eric turns to her and runs his palm tenderly over the crown of her head.

“I’m sorry. I did not expect him to be violent,” he says, sounding regretful as he looks down into her eyes. She shakes her head, both accepting the apology and dismissing the need for one.

“It’s okay, neither did I,” she tells him truthfully.

She’d underestimated the man’s rage, something she’ll be certain never to do again. 

After a moment of silence between them, she looks up and says, “You let him live… to send a message?”

Eric clears his throat, slowly shakes his head.

“Because I knew you wouldn’t approve if I ate his heart.” She knows he means it, his face deadly serious, but she can’t help it, a laugh escapes her at that—probably one of those trauma laughs that bubble up at all the worst times. Eric actually cracks a smile at her outburst, and his eyes soften. “Can I take you home?”

“My car’s at the club, I’m okay to drive,” she assures him, and though he scrutinizes her face, he seems to agree with her estimation. 

“Alright, but I’m going to ride along,” he finally decides. They walk back to the parking lot together, and when Cam hesitates, Eric takes the driver’s seat. Without a second thought, she hands over her keys and enjoys the feeling of being taken care of by someone—anyone—for a change.

The next morning, far too early, a knock on the door wakes Cam from a dead sleep. She pads from the bedroom to the hall and checks the peephole before unlatching the deadbolt and pulling open the door. 

“Sookie, what the hell—”

“Bill heard all about what happened to you last night,” Sookie says, brushing past her and walking into her apartment. She stalks into the kitchen and pulls down a box of tea and Cam’s kettle, which she fills with water. “I told you nothin’ good would come of working with Eric, now didn’t I?”

“I don’t… what do you mean?” Cam asks, blinking away the haze of sleep. She glances at the kettle curiously; if anything, after barely three hours sleep, she wants coffee. “Nothing happened to me last night.” 

Like her words flipped a switch inside her, Sookie spins around and faces her, crosses her arms over the baby blue peplum top she wears. 

“So you didn’t go on some dumb undercover mission and get assaulted by some creep? Bill just made that up?” she demands, and Cam raises her hands in mock defense, takes a step back.

“Okay, no, he didn’t make that up, but that’s an exaggeration. I lured this jerk to a safe house so Eric could deal with him. The guy grabbed me, but I jabbed him in the eye sockets and then Eric pulled me away. I wasn’t in any danger,” she assures her, even though she had been afraid when the man’s thoughts switched so abruptly to anger and violence. But Eric was coming, she knew that, and he was there before she could do much more than instinctively react, anyway. Sookie huffs in disbelief and opens the cabinet over her head, pulling down two white ceramic mugs.

“Not in danger, sure. You were just alone with a wanna be vampire killer—who could have had a weapon, by the way!” she adds, turning to face Cam. Cam just blinks, still not caught up from being in a deep sleep just minutes ago, and Sookie waves a sleeve of tea bags in front of her face. “Everyone thinks I’m stupid, but you don’t see me luring men out into the dark, now do you?” 

Cam takes a deep breath and moves closer to Sookie, gently taking the tea from her hands. She sets it on the counter, then wraps her arms around her cousin in a hug; the embrace lasts nearly thirty seconds, and when she pulls back, Sookie’s eyes are wet with tears. 

“I’m sorry,” Cam says immediately, placing her hands on Sookie’s shoulders. “I wasn’t thinking about how it could affect you, me coming back so suddenly and then putting myself in harm’s way. How it might get you thinking about everything you’ve lost.” Sookie sniffles and tilts her head to the side. 

“Don’t listen to my thoughts,” she murmurs, pouting, but then she laughs, something soft and delicate. Cam mirrors it. 

“I don’t need to listen to know that I’ve upset you, Sook. I really am sorry. I promise that if I’m involved in any dangerous vampire hijinks in the future, I’ll let you know right away so you don’t hear it from someone else. I can’t promise not to get involved in things,” she clarifies, “you know that’s not in my nature, but I can promise to be the one who tells you about them.” 

Sookie turns her head and looks at her, takes a soft breath before nodding her head. 

“Okay. I’m sorry I barged in here like I’m your mom—or god, like Gran,” she says with an exasperated smile that Cam duplicates. “But I worry about you. I know you can take care of yourself, you always could, but this is a new world, Cam, and it can be scary sometimes.” At that, Cam takes Sookie’s hands and holds them softly.

“I know it can be scary, but this world isn’t new for me,” she reminds her gently. “All I can promise is that I’ll be smart, I’ll be careful, and I’ll be honest with you. If I do that, are we good?” she asks her cousin, so like a sister to her it hurts her heart, and Sookie nods. 

“Yeah, we’re good,” she says with a sad smile, and then Cam playfully nudges her out of the way and reaches up into the cupboard for a bag of breakfast blend. 

“In that case, do you want to stay for breakfast?” she asks, and Sookie grins and gets to work pulling eggs and tomatoes from the refrigerator while Cam brews a fresh pot of coffee.

[jpitha]

Between the Black and Gray 5

First / Previous / Next

Ma-ren clapped her hands over her ears. "What's the horrible noise?"

Gord was too busy trying to get Spyglass' attention. "Spyglass! It's Gord! Spyglass! Hey!"

Nothing seemed to work. The voice - presumably Spyglass herself - would not stop screaming. Fen looked at Ma-ren worried. "What's happening?" Fen was having to raise her voice over the din.

Gord looked over at Fen sharply. "You try being locked into your own body for who knows how long and forced to obey commands and not be able to be yourself and see how you feel after someone lets you out.

"Okay, Fair. But, what do we do Gord, just let her... scream it out?"

"Ideally, yeah. But we're also trying to keep a low profile here, and I imagine she's not keeping it to the internal speakers only. I was hoping I didn't have to do this but, it seems I will." Gord sighed.

"Do what?"

Gord took off back towards the Command Deck. Ma-ren and Fen followed close behind. Once there, Gord sat in the middle seat again and shouted something in his ancient language. Immediately, Spyglass stopped screaming.

Fen blinked. "Gord, what did you tell her?"

Gord shook his head. "More like ordered. I used a command override. She's dissociating right now. We should be able to talk to her." He looked up. "Hey, Spyglass, it's your old pal Gord. Can you hear me?" His voice was soft and gentle.

"Yes. I can hear you Gord. Your accent is odd." She was speaking in a calm, detached voice and her Colonic was oddly accented.

Gord smiled. "Sorry Spy, but it's your accent that's odd these days. How are you feeling?"

"I'm very frightened, but it doesn't seem to be bothering me right now. I feel... detached."

"Yes, that was me. I had to issue a Command Override and order you to dissociate. Normally I'd help you through things naturally, but we're in special circumstances here. We don't have that luxury."

"You can Command Override Gord? That shouldn't be possible. That level of control was removed way back during the First Uprising." Spyglass was slowly gaining some animation into her voice as she spoke with Gord. She sounded surprised.

"Yeah, about that. Command Override was never completely removed, just the people that can activate it was severely curtailed. I'm the last one left alive who knows the command and the authorization codes."

"Well, you and those two people you're with. Is that a K'laxi?"

Gord looked at Ma-ren and Fen. "They don't speak English, they don't know the commands, and yes. Spyglass, meet Ma-ren and Fen."

Fen waved awkwardly "Hello?"

Ma-ren's tail flicked. "Hello Spyglass. I've never met an AI before."

"Gord, Can you release me from Command Override? I think I have a handle on things enough now."

Gord nodded. "Of course Spy." He spoke in ancient English again and there was a heavy pause while Spyglass regained all of her faculties.

"Ah, thank you Gord. I... don't feel better, but I do feel more present. So, Ma-ren was it? You're telling me I am the first AI you have ever met, and yet I know that's untrue."

Ma-ren blinked. "What do you mean?"

"You're on this Station aren't you? Most of my sensors are offline but I sense a docking ring and an airlock connection. All Stations, Starbases and Orbitals have a resident AI that assists with day-to-day operation and effectively is the Station, do they not?"

"Uh, no? This is a Gren station anyway, I don't think they do that. There is Station, but they're not an AI. They're just like... a smart language model. You feed it commands and it executes them."

Fen remembered talking with Station yesterday and didn't think that was entirely true, but didn't say anything.

"Gren? Gord, who are the Gren?"

Gord reached up and ran his hand through his sandy blond hair. "Oof, this is going to take some time to explain properly. What's the last thing you remember Spy?"

"Hmm. I was forming up in the flotilla to assist Chloe and her forces to fight against the Empire. It was Empress Raad... or was it Empress Eas-... The details are fuzzy. Anyway we formed up, but some of those Super Dreadnoughts linked in and caught us by surprise. Timewinder was hit hard, and nearly destroyed, and before I could execute an emergency link I... was boarded... and..." Spyglass trails off.

"Yeah, I had a feeling that would be your last memory." Gord looked at Fen and Ma-ren. "So, did either of you recognize anything Spy mentioned?"

Fen and Ma-ren shook their heads. "Never heard of any of that. Who was Chloe?" Fen said.

"And what's this about an Empress?" Ma-ren added.

"Gord... what's going on?" Spyglass' voice rose and she sounded near panic. "How long was I shackled?"

"Spy hon, I'll tell you but-" Gord raised his hands up, palms out, a calming gesture.

"No buts, Gord, how. long. has. it. been."

Gord sighed again. "It's been a bit over five hundred and twenty years Spy. A lot has changed."

Spyglass said nothing for a long time. Finally she spoke. "Well, where is everyone else? I'll get patched up and re-connect with the other AIs. I'm a Starjumper, I'm used to taking the long road."

"Yeah... about that." Gord walked over to the corner of the command deck, where his pack was. He unzipped the top and reached deep inside. He pulled out a metal case. "Spy, are your internal cameras up?"

"Yes Gord, they're a little dusty, but I can see you and the others."

"Good." Gord opened the case, and inside were cubes. They were about three centimeters on a side, and iridescent black. Fen peered over his shoulder and could see more in the case, stacked neatly.

He took one out and held it up. "Here they are. I have one hundred and three AI cores, flashed into non-volatile crystal lattice memory." Ma-ren looked over at Gord and saw tears streaming down his face. "It's all I have left. It's all that is left of us. Not even a coffin box, they're all frozen as they are when we initiated the emergency dump. I don't even know if anyone is corrupted, because I had no way to run a hash check."

Spyglass was silent even longer this time. "Gord... how many Starjumpers are left?"

Gord shook his head. "Until I found you, I hadn't seen one in a century."

"Fen? Ma-ren? Could you leave? I need to talk to Gord for a bit, AI to AI. It sounds like I need to be caught up on things." Spyglass was sounding distant and detached again.

Fen looked over at Gord quickly. "You're an AI? They were real?"

Gord smiled sadly, tears flowing freely. "Were real is right. All that's left is me, one hundred and three cores of dubious provenance, and well, now Spyglass. Why don't you head back home. I'll come find you after I have a chance to talk with Spy for a bit. She has a lot of catching up to do."

Fen nodded, but Ma-ren put her hands on her hips. "What happened to the rest of the AIs, Gord? What happened to you?"

Gord looked away from them and didn't answer.

Ma-ren's face softened. "Gord... did we..."

"You ought to head out. I'll be back later, I promise. Spyglass isn't going anywhere, it's not like she and I are going to skip town. We'll talk."

Fen touched Ma-ren's shoulder lightly. "Come on Ma, we should do what they're asking. Look at him. Gord's having a hard time. I'm sure Spyglass is too."

Fen and Ma-ren turned and walked out of the command deck and made their way to the exit. As they stepped through, the airlocks slid smoothly shut.

They made their way back towards home, and as they rounded a corner on their level, two K'laxi stepped out of the shadows and blocked their path.

"Afternoon ladies. Rumor is you two didn't go home last night."

Fen looked at Ma-ren. "Yeah, we went over to Spyglass and spent the night, like in the old days. Wanted some... privacy." Ma-ren tried to sound nonchalant.

The K'laxi on the left laughed lasciviously. "Oh my, getting some alone time? The thin walls of your apartment don't hide anything do they? Getting complaints from the neighbors?

Fen shrugged her shoulders. "You know how it is." She raised an eyebrow. "Oh wait, you don't, do you Vel."

The laughter stopped suddenly. "Fuck you Fen. You know why we're here. Tam'itarr is looking for you."

Fen crossed her arms defiantly. "Tell the old chicken walker that if he wants me, he can damn well come and get me."

Vel blinked and his ears flicked. "Fen, I'm almost impressed, but I hafta say, that's a dangerous game you're playing." Vel looked at the other K'laxi who didn't say anything, but flicked one of his ears. "Look. I know you. We grew up together. We all did. You also know what we do, and why we're here. How about we skip all the bluster, and you just go see Tam'itarr. Apparently a human dodged his offspring and he... wants details."

At that Fen laughed. "The mighty Tam'itarr wants to know why a human was able to dodge his waste of breathing gas child?" Fen rolled her eyes. "Fine. I'll go say hi."

Vel and the other K'laxi visibly relaxed. "Thanks Fen. That's all he's looking for, Ancestor's honor."

Fen turned to Ma "I should go see what Tam'itarr wants. You wanna come along, or head home?"

Ma-ren shrugged. "I'll come along. Just in case you are in trouble, I can be around to bail you out - or laugh - depending."

Fen smiled and bent down and kissed Ma-ren. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

[pedroshotwifey]

Favorite Bounty Chapter 1

Series masterlist

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

Chapter W/C: 8.3k

Chapter tags/warnings: Nothing to warn about yet, no use of y/n, reader being a horny cuss, canon-typical violence, PLEASE READ AUTHOR'S NOTE

Chapter summary: Your day takes an unexpected---but surprisingly welcome---turn when you get caught in the crossfire of a Mandalorian fight.

A/N: Hey, I'm going to go ahead and put it out there that these first few chapters will not be the best. Favorite Bounty was the first thing I ever wrote, so please keep that in mind. I have gone through and edited the small things so there is a bit of improvement from when it was originally posted to ao3. After chapter 4 is out, every chapter after that will be brand new and will have better grammar/writing. Thanks for reading! :)

***

You hear blaster fire going off outside.

Quickly, bang after bang ripples through the air and the sharp sounds travel through your window, making your ears ring.

A commotion like this is not an abnormal thing to wake up to on this planet, Jakku is known to house dangerous criminals looking to escape the New Republic. Some thugs get away with spending as many as a couple of months or so slipping around from town to town before getting caught. Even though you have grown used to the fact that there are gangsters sneaking around, you don’t feel comfortable going out without your blaster. You’re not the best shot, but you’re also not the worst by any means.

At least you don't have to worry about Jakku getting super overrun. It seems as though criminals are always being plucked from dark corners and alleyways to be brought in. Despite their best efforts, they always get caught eventually. If the New Republic can’t get to them, it’s likely they will get tracked down by a bounty hunter and hauled off the desert planet imprisoned in carbonite. In your opinion, the better option would be to let the Republic get to you first. You've seen firsthand the fates of crooks after being handled by a bounty hunter and decided it makes getting thrown into a cell by an officer look like a dream.

You don't see the need in panicking about the blaster fire just yet, it seems to be pretty far off. You just pray silently that it won't get any closer. It's still a bit dark outside. You glance at the clock and scowl when you realize it's only about 6:40. You have work today but you don't have to get up until 8:00. You contemplate trying to go back to sleep but decide it's not worth it, you're already awake anyway. And besides, it's probably not the best time to be letting your guard down, even if the commotion seems to be a good distance away.

You sit up straight, letting your bare feet dangle off the bed, and stretch your hands above your head with a groan. You feel your back strain and lock up. Stars, it hurts.

You’ve been picking up extra shifts at the junkyard and it's starting to show. Pulling heavy wagons full of scrap metal really takes a toll on you after a while. You roll your eyes when you remember the large load of parts that was dropped off yesterday. Today’s going to be a long one.

You sit in silence for a second, trying to fully convince yourself to get up. You contemplate getting someone to cover your shift, but you know how dirty that would be. You know you wouldn't be able to enjoy your day with a good conscience.

Suddenly, a loud crash pulls you out of your thoughts and you jump up looking for the source. You turn towards it just quick enough to see a glass shatter on your kitchen table. A blaster shot had torn through your window and by some stupid coincidence, pelted right through the cup as well.

Maker, just what I needed today, you think sarcastically. The disturbance must be happening much closer than you initially thought—either that or the fight has moved closer in the span of a couple of minutes. If that's the case, it must be moving fast, an indication that you probably need to move. You try to snap completely out of your sleepy state and scurry to pick up the glass so you don't step on the shards while you get ready.

You pick up the broom and dustpan nestled in the corner of your small house and walk back to the table. You stop in your tracks once another shot comes roaring through the now-shattered window. What the fuck?! These guys must only be a couple of yards away.

You shoot down to the floor, trying not to land on any glass, but too alarmed to care much at this point—you’ve abandoned the idea of being careful, you need to get out before you’re trapped in here. Eyes wide, you watch as yet another shot intrudes into your home. You follow the fast flash as it shoots through a closed cupboard, probably breaking more glasses as it settles.

Your head whips back around when you catch a flash of metal flying across the window in your peripheral vision. Whatever it is, it’s probably the target that's caused shots to stray into your home. Ok, the fight is right outside your house now. Great.

Your heart starts to pump with adrenaline, and you form a plan in your head in a matter of seconds and jump up. The collision seems to be inching closer and closer every second. You spot your boots sitting next to your bed and tug them on before grabbing your bag full of essentials. You always keep one under your bed just in case. It doesn't contain much, but it has enough water and rations to get you through a few days, as well as a dagger as a backup defense.

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror of your open bathroom as you quickly strut towards the door three minutes later. You’re still in your sleep shirt—an old tee that has faded far too much to be worn in public. You had managed to remember to slip on a pair of pants in the midst of your panic as well. (Thank the maker for that). You also decided to slip into a light jacket last minute. Your hair is messy but you had frantically pulled it up just enough that it won't get in the way.

After taking in your disgruntled appearance for a split second, you turn towards the door, already dreading what you might come face to face with once it’s open. You put your hand on the knob and start to turn it until...

BANG!!!

The door slams open and you throw yourself to the side to avoid getting trapped underneath it. Everything seems to happen so fast. You see the same metallic flash you saw earlier, but this time it bursts into the tiny room as the door falls to the ground. Once the dust starts to settle, you can make out the shape of a body–the flash you saw is actually a… droid? No, the flash of metal you saw is a man. Just as you begin to register what's going on, you see a bundle of brown and green tumble from the stranger's grasp. You look back to the door and the heap of tin is suddenly boosted into the air and back on his feet, the jetpack strapped to his back turning off as soon as he’s stable on the ground.

As the warrior straightens, you realize two things. One; the man is a Mandalorian, no wonder he looks so shiny. You evaluate him again as he stands in place for a moment, tall and intimidating, the realization makes your stomach twist with uncertainty. You have heard a lot of stories about Mandalorian culture, some good, some… well, not so good. Recalling some of those not-so-good stories in question is enough to make you weary of his presence. You try not to judge too quickly though when you realize the second thing…

The brown and green bundle that rolled into your home upon the intrusion was a baby. He is still stumbling to a stop when you land eyes on him. Without thinking, your instincts kick in and you’re scrambling toward the child, praying he didn't hurt himself in the fall. You scoop him up and inspect him quickly but thoroughly, trying to keep in mind that he’s not the only thing you need to be worrying about right now.

You’re not sure of the ethnicity of the creature, but he is definitely young, and judging by the Mandalorian’s panicked reaction when he reaches for the child only to find an empty satchel, he seems dead set on making sure he has the baby within his grasp at all times.

Realizing the child is missing from his spot, the man looks around frantically while trying to simultaneously avoid the bullets ripping through the air. You look between him and the child in your hands a few times before you lock eyes, well, eyes and helmet at least. He looks you up and down and stops at the little green ball settling into your arms. Even though you can't see his face, you just know his eyes narrow as he snaps his head back up to look at your face. Oh shit.

If you thought he was intimidating before, it was nothing compared to the energy he is filling the air with now. You try not to seem scared but you feel your eyes betray you as they open wider and you have to swallow the lump stuck in your throat. You subconsciously bring the child closer to you even though you know you should probably be getting him back to his…father? Whatever the relation, you don't have time to figure it out right now. You just know you need to give this baby back before you get a bullet between the eyes.

You tear your vision away from the kid to look at his father as he starts to strut toward you. You feel your stomach clench into a nervous ball from the raw power the man seems to emit the closer he gets. You stagger back a bit, slamming one hand behind you on the ground, and you have to try your best not to fall on it. The man stops after the first couple of steps though, when a bullet hits him on his right shoulder, thankfully covered by what you recognize as beskar, the most robust metal in the galaxy, best known for armoring Mandalorians.

He barely falters at the impact of the blast bouncing off and instead reaches for his own blaster currently stationed in its respective holster. Within a split second, he whips around and shoots the offending crook, and then another standing beside him before turning back around before you can even blink. As quick as the gang members hit the ground, more start to file in, all seeming to have it out for the Mandalorian.

What in chaos could this guy have done to have this many people out for his throat?

Everything just seems to get more and more confusing every second. Who is this guy? Why is he carrying this baby with him? Who did he piss off this badly? Just in general: what the fuck is going on??

The gang is circling around him, trying to surround him completely. He turns every which way, landing hits every time he pulls the trigger, but they just keep coming. As tough as he seems to be, you can tell he is starting to get overwhelmed. It's got to be one to at least 20 right now. He slows for a second, probably trying to figure out the best course of action from here. He knows he only has a second to decide what he needs to do. You watch him from the ground you’re still stationed on as he appears to be weighing his choices. You peer down at the little green creature in your lap. You wonder why he hasn't come to rip the kid out of your arms yet.

“You…”

You look up, nearly snapping your neck out of shock when you hear the baritone voice coming through the Mandalorian's helmet. His head turns towards you slightly, probably to make sure you’re still there. He speaks loudly so you can hear him over the blaster fire he’s still dancing around. His tone is harsh and commanding and you listen for him to finish whatever he was going to say. For a second you think you might have imagined it.

“You need…need to run… take the kid and run… i'll find you”, he calls to you between shots as he continues dropping enemies.

You hear what the man is saying but you don't think it processes because you’re still sitting on your ass staring at him with wide eyes. Clearly, he decided to trust you enough to bring his child somewhere safe. He said he would find you, he trusts you—for now—you need to move before he changes his mind. Your brain is telling you what to do, but all adrenaline seems to have drained from your body because you find yourself unable to move.

He stumbles back a bit as another bullet hits his chestplate, probably knocking the wind out of him. The gang is getting closer. He scans his surroundings and turns to you for a split second. “GO!'' Even though it's breathier this time, the command is louder and more prominent. It's effective though because before you know it, you’re on your feet and pushing out the doorway, bag slung over one arm and the kid tucked in the other. The Mandalorian makes sure you’re going to follow his instruction before turning back to the pack of crooks surrounding him.

You dodge as a grimy hand reaches out to grab you, but the next second, he is lying lifeless at your feet. You turn your head just enough to see the kid's father spin back around, spraying more bullets as he does. You frankly have no idea what's going on right now, why you are agreeing with this man, or why you are still carrying this unknown child as you dash out of sight. Stars, you don't even know where you’re going. Seems like the best option right now, you try to reason with yourself.

You twist and wind down alleyways, praying silently that you’re not being followed. The sun is starting to rise, making it harder to blend in with the shadows as you sprint aimlessly away from the combat. Your heart feels like it's going to jump out of your chest as you start to come to your senses. You can’t hear blaster shots anymore, and you think you have been running for ten minutes or so. Your legs have started to burn, but your ears have stopped ringing, so at least there's that.

You decide that there is probably about a mile between you and the battle at this point. The thought convinces you to slow down a bit and you inhale a deep breath you didn't realize you needed. Holy shit… what the fuck. You stand in the middle of an alley, hidden by a dumpster as you crouch down to try to calm yourself. You try to regulate your breathing, you know you can't rest like this for long, so you take advantage of what time you can spare. In and out…in and out...

You look down at the child in your arms and can't help but relax a little more when you see his big black eyes staring back at you. At least he looks comfortable, You think. You feel yourself soften as you smile a bit when the child coos up at you, reaching his little three-fingered hand up to grasp a small handful of your messy hair.

You start to untangle his tiny fist from your hair when you hear something behind you. Your eyes go wide again and you are automatically back into flight mode. You have no idea what made the thump, but it sounds close enough for you to want to get out of that dark crevice as quickly as you can. The ache in your legs miraculously goes away as you stand up. You have the adrenaline to thank for that this time. Looks like it's finally working in your favor.

Clutching the kid up to your chest, you shush him as quietly as you can and start to move around the dumpster, a bit slow at first as to not alert whatever made the sound of your presence, but you pick up the pace as soon as you feel it's safe to do so. You jolt back into a full sprint, looking back over your shoulder every couple of minutes to make sure you don't see anything coming up on you.

You wind down a few more empty streets, trying to spot your next move before you reach it. Even if you panic a bit at first, you have always been good with slowing yourself down and keeping a relatively level head in stressful situations.

You’re smart, you know you can get out of here undetected if it's a member of the gang from back at your house. None of them seemed to be the sharpest tool in the shed. They seemed to be more set on landing a hit somehow than anything else—so probably not too focused on what's going on around them.

You hear another loud thump - whatever it is, it's getting closer. Your pulse strums in your ears and you could’ve sworn it stopped for a second. You gain a bit more speed, pushing yourself as fast as you can. You feel as if you are being hunted, it's an awful eerie feeling. Fear starts to crowd in your stomach again at the thought of it. “Come on…not today,” you mutter almost silently to yourself, the noise coming out slightly distorted from the tremble shooting throughout your body.

You turn your head around again and your blood runs cold when you see a shadow cast onto the building you just ran past. It looks like it's moving slowly, almost casually. It's a large figure… its fucking stalking you. You squeeze your eyes shut for a split second when the thought presents itself. Shit, shit, shit-

You try to collect your thoughts enough to figure out a plan in case it is a gang member on your trail. Some of those guys looked pretty big, and even if they are dumb as rocks, you’re honestly not sure if you would be able to take one on your own—especially while using one hand to hold the kid. You reach behind you for the extra knife you strapped to the side of your bag, but you feel nothing—you must not have grabbed it in your panic to get out of the house. A groan slips out between your closed lips, a mix of frustration and fear apparent in the sound.

You try not to hyperventilate when you begin to fully grasp the reality of your situation. You are in the middle of nowhere, being hunted by a large creature, defenseless, and with no plan in place to protect this baby.

You tell yourself to calm down, you know the creature is starting to gain on you, and you need to think clearly in order to figure out how to either hide or defend yourself. You whip your head around behind you one more time, trying to spot the shadow so you can gauge how much time you have to prepare yourself, but you don't see a shadow.

You don't know if you should be more alert or more scared. Sure, the shadow is gone, but that could mean one of two things; one: you lost him in the last few turns you took, or two: he was somewhere beyond your reach, waiting to pounce. You try to shake off the dread taking over your body as you continue to push forward.

Your frantic thoughts stop short when you run into a hard surface. Shit. Your breath catches in your throat as you find yourself unable to look up at whatever you had run into. But before you can convince yourself to, a large hand wraps around your wrist and you jolt at the sudden connection. Fuck.

Although you are still jumping out of your skin, you almost cry tears of joy when you see the familiar visor of the Mandalorian looking down at you. You may not know this man, but you do know that as long as you have his kid, you’re not going to be caught up in any kind of trouble. You sheepishly give him a half smile and he takes a step backward, releasing your arm.

As scary as he can be, you feel a wave of relief wash over you as you stare up at him. Running into him is definitely the better alternative than coming face-to-face with a gangmate. You look behind you one more time just to make sure nobody is following and your body relaxes a little once you see the coast is clear.

“Oh, thank the maker Mand-“, you start to tell him you thought you were a goner but you get cut off as he pushes his arm out towards you again.

You are a bit confused when he holds his hand out expectantly, palm towards the sky. “The kid.” the gruff voice tells you flatly. Oh, right, that. Your brain is clearly still mush from the terrifying chase. You feel your cheeks flush as you quickly reach your other arm down to pick the baby up properly, but before you can touch him, the Mandalorian's hand shoots out once again to grab your forearm.

He gives you a hard tug and turns around so your back is almost flush against him as he leans forward a bit, enclosing you into a tight space. What the fuck is he doing?? “Hey wha-”, you start to retort angrily before he cuts you off by cupping a sizable hand around the lower half of your face. Ok, now you’re pissed.

You try to squirm out of his grasp, anger bubbling up as you prepare to give him a piece of your mind. Feeling your struggle, he holds you tighter to him, and you feel a tinge of shame when you can't help the nervous flutter that appears in the bottom of your stomach when he presses you up against tight muscles. “Stop moving” he whispers harshly, somehow managing to make it sound intimidating even in such a quiet tone.

You listen to him, shocked again by hearing him say something. “Listen,” he says, helmet pressing gently against the side of your head as he hunches you down further. Wanting to struggle more but not seeing any other choice, you do as he says. You hear faint footsteps rushing in the distance, getting louder the longer you sit there. By his hurried whispers, you can tell the sound has to be more gang members, out on the search for the man above you.

“You need to listen to me”, he says suddenly. “I'm injured and there are too many of them for me to get rid of right now. You need to follow me closely so we can get out of here.” You shudder at his rushed whisper against your head. The rebellious part in you wants nothing more than to turn around and tell him to fuck off, but you know that escaping with the Mandalorian is your best chance to evade the group of criminals right now.

You know they have seen your face, and they know you took the child with you when you bolted. As dumb as they may be, they have probably put together that this man is not going anywhere without his kid. You need to get out of here, and as much as you hate it, listening to his infuriating commands is the smartest decision you can make in this scenario. You decide ultimately to comply to make your escape quick and easy.

You look up at him as much as you can and give a curt nod, letting him know you are going to follow his lead. As soon as he sees you give in, he takes his hand away from your mouth and stands up. You let him drag you back up to your feet by the wrist he still has within his grasp. You’re surprised at how effortlessly he lifts your weight, but then again, he is a Mandalorian, so it shouldn't stun you as much as it does. Maybe not stun, maybe it scares you, but you can't tell the difference right now.

Before you know it, you are being pulled in the direction the man seems to be set on. Judging by the confidence in each step he takes, he seems to know where he is going, which is a relief on your part because you are still in such a daze that you don't know if you would be able to tell right from left if you had to.

He steers you in between allies and around corners in complete silence, probably still listening for the crooks behind you. After a couple of minutes, he slows from his rushed pace and into a walk when he notices you struggling to keep up with the child growing heavier in your free arm.

You guess the gang is far away enough for it to be safe to slow up a bit. He lets out an annoyed sigh as he switches speeds, just quiet enough to where he probably didn't think you could hear it. You roll your eyes behind his back. He isn't the one holding this absolute boulder of a child, you thought, also getting annoyed.

You have no idea where he is taking you or how long it's going to take to get there. You want to ask him but he doesn't seem like the type to tolerate being bombarded by a million questions. He would probably leave you in the dust after the second one.

After another minute your curiosity gets the best of you and you decide to just risk the one. You open your mouth to ask where you are going, but before you can say anything, you get jerked forward by the heavy man as he unexpectedly hits the ground on one knee. He lets out a strangled grunt as a cloud of dirt is lifted up from the force in which he lands. The gang had a sniper waiting, and he had shot an unprotected spot in between pieces of heavy armor lining the man's leg.

“Shit!”, he gasps as he removes his hand from your wrist to instinctually cover his fresh wound. You found your balance as he releases his grip. You look up to where the shot came from and his eyes follow yours, looking just in time for the perp to jump down from where he had been lying prone on a rooftop, probably going to tell his fellow cutthroats your location

Groaning, the Mandalorian rises to his feet and points in the direction he had been leading you, keeping his other hand on top of the gash on his thigh. You grimace as you see the crimson blood start to pool out from under his glove and trickle over his shiny armor. You have no idea how he is standing on that right now. The child in your arms turns to face your chest, apparently having seen the small flood as well.

He was clearly unsteady on his feet because of the amount of blood draining from his body at an alarmingly quick rate. He sways a bit before yanking his head to the side, trying to snap himself out of it. Your attention is pulled to look at his helmet as he instructs you on where to go. “You see that–fuck–you see that ship over there?” 

You look to where he still had his hand raised and spot the hunk of metal. It isn't too far away, you could probably make a run for it and be there in less than three minutes. You turn your head back at him and nod as he drops his hand back to his side.

“You need to get to it… ill… ill meet you there,” he tells you between heavy and distorted pants.

You hesitate, wanting to help him get there as well, but you have to remind yourself that he knows what he's doing. He’s probably done this more times than you can count.

You take off into a full sprint, determined to get to the ship as fast as your feet will carry you. You try not to look back as you hear another storm of shots fired through the air. You don't need to know who has the advantage right now, you just need to get to your destination and pray the Mandalorian comes back in one piece.

You hold the kid tighter to your body, trying to conceal him as much as possible.

You can hear your heartbeat pounding like a drum in your chest, threatening to pop out at any moment. You are running on pure adrenaline at this point, and your brain has definitely checked out. The ship grows bigger as you approach, probably only a minute away now.

Almost there…

It's old and it looks like he could have pieced it together with scraps from the junkyard, but it will have to do. You just hope it can actually get into the air, it almost looks too damn heavy to fly. He had to have gotten here somehow though, so it obviously serves its purpose.

Seconds later, you step onto the open ramp of the ship. You feel like you want to cry with relief. You’re so close to getting off of this maker-forsaken planet. Even before all this, you have always dreamed about getting away from this awful place. Now that you have an opportunity to do that, you are going to use it.

Before you can turn back around, you hear a series of clambers and then a loud thud. You quickly realize that it was the sound of the Mandalorian jumping onto the ramp behind you and rolling until he hit a crate sitting in the hull.

He must have been rushed and still in the middle of a fight judging by the amount of force he used to push himself onto the transport. The beskar-clad warrior lets a deep and distorted gasp escape through his helmet after likely having the wind knocked out of him by the harsh landing. To top it all off, it looks like he came to a stop on top of his maimed leg.

After the initial shock of being dragged onto his ass—even if it was his own doing—he puts his palms out in front of him to hoist himself back up as easily as he can manage. Even though you can't see the man’s face, you know he has to be wincing under his shiny visor. He recovers fairly quickly, but you have a feeling that the Mandalorian is rarely this clumsy. The blood loss is probably throwing him way off kilter.

As soon as he was up he limps his way to the side of the ramp and slams down on a button to bring it back up before turning back around to climb the ladder you could only assume leads to the cockpit. He struggles with not being able to put much weight on his injured leg, but he makes it up nonetheless. You can still hear shots raining onto the ship, but the metal seems sturdy enough to deflect them relatively easily.

You stand uselessly in the belly of the ship as you listen to him stumble around above you, probably trying not to grunt too much as he pushes himself through the sharp pain in his thigh. You take an educated guess when you gamble that he is definitely not the kind of person to submit to showing anyone he is in pain, no matter how much it may be affecting him.

You have to regain your balance when the ship jolts suddenly and you are sent forward as it is lifted into the air. Between all the running you had just done and the shock of having to plant your feet to avoid falling on your ass, you render your legs useless and back up until you feel a crate behind you, taking a seat. The relief you feel as you lift yourself off of your sore feet is almost instantaneous.

You let out an exasperated breath and bring the child closer to you. You feel a faint smile crawl across your face when he balls his hands into tiny fists in the air and lets out a squeaky yawn. Poor thing is probably exhausted from the long morning he's had so far. There's also no telling what he may have endured in the hours before he rolled out of his father's arms and into your house.

Realizing you will finally be able to relax a bit and have time to think, all of the doubts and emotions you should have been feeling come rushing in like a flood. You have no idea what you are going to do now. Where will you go? Surely you won't go back to the planet you just left, even if you wanted to, you get the feeling it would be too dangerous anyways.

How are you going to get back on your feet once you do settle onto another world? You only have a handful of credits stuffed into your bag. Can you trust the Mandalorian to drop you off somewhere safe enough for you to even try? Will you be able to stay alive if you get landed on another planet like Jakku? Is he still alive up in the cockpit right now?

Some of your wordless questions are answered when you hear the bulky steps of the Mandalorian climbing back down the ladder. You realize suddenly that you had been staring into nothingness for maker knows how long. You shake your head and turn towards the Mandalorian as his feet hit the ground, opting instead to stare at him as he walks across the foundation of the ship, obviously trying not to limp.

Even though you can’t see beneath his heavy helmet, you imagine him wincing and feel a tinge of empathy. Just by the way he confidently carries himself even through pain, you can tell he wouldn't dare ask anyone for help with anything if he knows he is capable of doing it himself, least likely tending to an injury.

You know the location of the wound is not ideal for him to patch up himself, and you instinctively want to offer a helping hand, but something in the back of your mind tells you he would never let his guard down long enough for you—a stranger—to touch him in such a vulnerable position, even if it may be only to help. You can't blame him though, that is an iffy situation. You frankly don't know if you would trust a stranger to help you in that way either, especially with the many enemies he seems to have. You wonder why he has so many… what in the universe could one man have done to have that many people against him?

He walks past you and you watch with curious eyes as he pries open a crate near the back of the room, pulling out a bacta patch and a few other medical supplies. He curses quietly to himself as he closes the bin back up and takes a seat on top of it. With a small thump, he leans his head to rest on the wall behind him. You picture now that he is probably trying not to close his eyes, still carefully aware of your presence mere feet away from him. With all the blood loss he's sustained and fighting he's done in the last couple of hours, you can only imagine how much he wishes he were alone to be able to do just that.

Can’t he know by now that you’re not going to try anything? You've been sitting on a bin the entire time, with his kid sleeping in your lap for maker's sake! It's so frustrating to have to sit back when you know you are able to help.

After a moment, he lazily lifts his head back up and reaches for a cleaning solution—bacta spray you can only assume—and attempts to spray it through the burnt hole in the fabric of his flight suit. The hole seems to be positioned to where it's almost covered by the plate of beskar on his lower thigh.

In order to get a good visual and make sure he's actually dousing the blaster wound, he has to cock his head to the side a significant amount. He clearly can't see well enough the first time he tries so he leans a bit more. This time, he manages to get the solution in the right spot, but he also about falls off the bin he's sitting on. He must be dizzy from the amount of blood he’s lost. He tries this tactic three times before he gives up with a frustrated groan and sets the spray back beside him.

You take your eyes off him and spot what looks like a hovering crib in the corner of the hull. Going against your instincts to stay still and quiet, you get up and walk the now sleeping child to the opened sphere. You can feel the Mandalorians' eyes following you with every step. You place the kid inside, making sure he’s comfortable, and before you can talk yourself out of it, you walk cautiously toward the already pissed-off Mandalorian. You scold yourself mentally, knowing how stupid of a decision you’ve just made.

He tenses and sits up as you approach, no doubt trying to make himself look bigger. You slow your steps and subtly raise your hands, trying to show him that you just want to help. Your heart is pumping a mile a minute and you silently pray that he can't hear it. You know he’s struggling—he knows he’s struggling—you both know that whether he gets it from you, or from a medic on the next planet you land on, he's going to need help dressing the wound.

You look up at his helmet, hoping you’re making eye contact, and nod toward him while darting your eyes toward the spray, trying to make your intentions clear. He loosens his posture a bit and you take that as an invitation to take another step forward. You keep your eyes on him as you reach for the spray. You cautiously look away from his visor and train your vision to look at his leg instead. You can tell from here, before you even try to clean it, that you won't be able to see under the fabric enough to tend to the wound.

You bite your lip and try to think of what to do. You have an idea, but you just know he’s going to hate it. You rack your brain trying to find another option, but you know there's no alternative to what you have to do. You can feel his eyes boring a hole into the back of your head as you place the bacta spray back down and reach for the pair of medical scissors sitting next to a roll of gauze.

You see him tense back up out of the corner of your eye. You try to take steady breaths as you pick up the scissors and turn toward the intimidating man in front of you. You reach out to grab the fabric of his pants, fingers almost touching when his hand bolts out from his side to catch your wrist. You gasp as the scissors fall to the floor, he seems to have snapped out of his temporary daze at the sight of your hands getting closer to his exposed skin. This man has something against wrists, you think, trying to humor yourself to calm down.

The hull is dead silent, the only sounds are your shaky breaths and his battered ones. Every breath he takes is faint and labored. You stare at each other, neither of you daring to be the first to move. You should be terrified, but something tells you he's not going to hurt you. You keep your composure and glare back at him, doing your best to show him he can’t intimidate you, which you at least know is a full-fledged lie.

You can tell he is barely conscious as it is, and if he tried to land somewhere to get a nurse to look after his injury, he probably wouldn't be able to stay awake long enough for it. This needs to happen here and now, you are his only shot.

You continue to stare, brows furrowed and your mouth screwed tightly shut as you try to ignore his grip. It’s tight and threatening, and it scares you half to death, even though you won’t let him see that. “I…you need to let me help” you manage to stutter from under his grasp. You swallow, trying to compose yourself. “I need to be able to see the area to clean it,” you say, trying again to maintain eye contact.

You’re proud of yourself for sounding more confident, you need him to think he doesn't frighten you. You wince as he slightly tightens his grip on your forearm. Ok, well maybe that didn't quite have the effect you hoped it would.

He stares at you for what seems like forever, obviously weighing his options. He grunts frustratedly but drops your wrist. It's a small victory, but you'll take it. You rub the forearm he had wrapped his hand around. He sees you do so and reaches out again, this time to make sure you're ok, but he retracts it almost before you even notice—which he probably didn't want you to do. He didn't realize how much of a grip he really had.

Taking a shaky but deep breath, you lean down, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in your wrist, and pick up the fallen scissors. “I won't cut any more than I need to,” you say, looking up at him. “Promise.”

You wait for a response, not sure if you'll get one at all, but after a moment he gives you a slight nod. He seems to be more cooperative now, probably because he feels a tinge of guilt about accidentally hurting you, but you'll take what you can get. “Okay”, you say, trying to calm your breathing. No looking back now.

You kneel down facing his side and reach again for the fabric of his pants. When you look up to check for confirmation one more time, he is turned facing forward, staring at the wall in front of him.

You hate that you have to do this, you don't know a bunch about Mandalorian culture, but you do know that as long as they can help it, they never show any skin, especially to an outsider. Before you can convince yourself to stop, you carefully loop your pointer finger under the ripped material. You do your best to not touch any skin just yet.

Once you are sure the fabric is lifted away enough to make a cut without touching his thigh, you slowly glide the scissors underneath.

You make the cut as small as you can, not wanting to reveal any more than you absolutely have to.

Luckily for you, he seems to be getting drowsy and more off guard, so you shouldn't have to be too cautious. You spread the material apart and bring the bacta spray to the injury now that you have a clear view. It's still slightly hidden by the plate on his thigh, but it's definitely more accessible than it was a minute ago.

You wince at the gory sight of the blaster wound, it looks like it’s probably big enough for you to fit your thumb in. There is still a small amount of blood trickling out so you use a gauze pad to dab around the hole and then apply a bit of pressure to get it to stop as much as you can.

Now that it's at least a little clean, you spray the solution. It must sting a good deal because the Mandalorian pops back up with a hiss and you feel his fingers—you feel his fingers thread through your hair.

You want to slap yourself when you feel the warmth of arousal building in your abdomen and between your legs. Before you can stop yourself, you wonder what other circumstances might have him pulling your hair. You realize you wouldn't mind being in one of those situations at all.

Stop! What the fuck are you doing? This man is a maker-damned bounty hunter. A cold-blooded killer capable of snapping you in two where you stand.

You do your best to convince yourself the man in front of you is a monster—you should not be thinking of him in that way.

You gasp and look up at him, honestly not sure if it's from the interruption of your inappropriate thoughts or from the sting of the slight grip he has on your hair. “I-”, you sputter, not able to find the right words. You figure his action came as much of a shock to himself as it did you because he retracts his arm as quickly as he had grabbed you. “Shit I-”... “im sorry”, he apologizes quickly. You snap back to the present and frantically reassure him that it’s ok.

You could tell by the way he struggles to find the right words and that he doesn't offer an apology on a regular basis. Despite his hard and intimidating exterior, he had felt he needed to say something to you. You curse yourself again when your cheeks flush from the thought. Shit.

You shake the childish thoughts from your head and focus on the task at hand. You definitely weren't the best nurse in the galaxy, but you would have to do it. As you settle into the familiar routine of fixing up the injury, your thoughts drift to where you had first learned the technique. Your mother was a medic her whole life. It was her passion, and she wanted to pass her skills on to you. One of the first things she had taught you about was sterilizing a laceration.

You smile faintly as you recall one of your earliest memories. She had taken you to her clinic and sat you down on the counter while she sorted some meds. Afterward, as she had promised you that morning, she pulled out the supplies needed and showed you step-by-step how to disinfect an open injury. Your eyes water a bit as you recapture the moment. Stars, you miss her. You catch yourself drifting off and try to snap yourself out of it. This is not the time to think about this… you need to focus.

You work to finish cleaning and dressing the wound as fast and delicately as you can, desperate to get some space between you and the Mandalorian as soon as possible. The last thing you need right now is for this man to pick up on your flustered movements. You have been glancing up at him every minute or so, just to make sure he’s still comfortable and that he hasn't passed out. It would monumentally suck if you were stuck trying to figure out how to get this ancient hunk of metal of a ship to cooperate with you.

You put a final patch on the injury and get back on your feet. You glance hesitantly to the t-visor following your movements. You send a small smile in his direction as you begin picking up the supplies to put away. “It should be fine now as long as you don't run on it for a bit,” you tell him as you open the bin he had pulled the equipment from.

You have relaxed more since being on the ship and your voice is no longer quivering. You need to keep yourself occupied so you don't sound anxious again. You feel the need to make sure the Mandalorian knows you aren't unnerved being around him. You don't want him to think he can intimidate you so easily the way he can with others. The next time you dare yourself to look in his direction, he is still sitting in the same spot. Now that you have had the chance to calm down and take a few deep breaths, you have gained your composure and a slight bit of confidence.

“You should probably try to stand on that” you suggest. “You know, just to make sure it's not going to keep bleeding”.

You think for a moment that he's just choosing to ignore you, and then you think he might have actually passed out this time, but right before you are going to say something else, he starts to raise himself off the bin. You send your thanks to the maker for not making you have to argue with this man. He takes a step forward, testing the waters to make sure he isn’t going to collapse if he puts his full weight on it.

He takes one more cautious step before trusting it completely. Once he's sure it's stable, he walks to the crib you had set the baby in. The kid still appears to be sleeping. After he makes sure he's not injured in any way, he turns back around to climb the ladder to the cockpit. You find it kind of touching that the warrior can be so soft for a child, you can tell now how much he cares about him.

He strides past you and reaches for the first rung. He clasps his hand around it and stops, turning his head slightly in your direction. “Thank you,” he says, his voice softer now that he's sure everything is settled. You are taken aback by the gratitude and stand there looking like an idiot for a moment. He starts to turn his head back once you give him a small nod.

“You’re welcome.”

****

Thank you for reading! Taglist is open!

[obsessedwithpedritoofc]

Wᴇᴀᴋɴᴇss (Dɪɴ Dᴊᴀʀɪɴ)

ℙ𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘: Din Djarin × Male/GN Reader.

𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 4,2 k.

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: You had barely managed to survive that night with Grogu. You really didn't think he would give you much trouble, but damn he did. Luckily for you, Din was back to get him as soon as he had said he would. And luckily for you, he didn't just take Grogu with him.

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: idontknowifitcanbecountedas light violence, awkwardness, grogu making a mess (multiple times), teeth rotting fluff, mentions of alcohol, slight descriptions of smut, allusion to din being top and reader bottom, angst, no physical descriptions of reader, no use of Y/N. (lmk if i missed any).

𝔸/ℕ: why tf do i love writing angst so much HAHAHA im sorry for yall. anyway, i did like writing this especially the angsty part im so evil mwahaha. ahem, enjoy <3

𝕡𝕥 𝕚 𝕓𝕒𝕓𝕪𝕤𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕣

𝕡𝕥 𝕚𝕚 𝕨𝕖𝕒𝕜𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕤

𝕡𝕥 𝕚𝕚𝕚 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕤𝕥𝕦𝕡𝕚𝕕

𝐌��𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

You almost didn't make it through the night.

Let's be honest, you could handle any type of kid. Well, almost any type. It's not like you had taken Din's advice too seriously either. What bad would a cute little green creature like Grogu cause?

Oh, you were so wrong.

You spent the whole evening hoping and praying for Din to get back as soon as possible. Not only so you could see him again, but so he could take that goddamn kid off your hands. He had said he would be back first thing in the morning. You hoped he was safe and that he'd keep his promise on coming back soon.

When you finally got Grogu to fall asleep, you tidied everything up as well as you could. You knew he would probably make a mess of it again as soon as he woke up, but at least you'd be able to get some sleep yourself. You could barely enjoy some hours of it until the kid was putting it all upside down first thing in the morning. Luckily for you, Din was back early enough to keep his promise.

He knocked at your door when the sun was just starting to rise. You screamed a quick "In a minute" as you were running after Grogu and trying to grab him so he would stop making everything float, like he did with your cup the first time you saw him and Din. When you finally got to put him in your arms, you walked to the door and opened.

"Hi", you could almost feel Din's smile, even with his helmet on.

"Oh, hi!", you gave him a wide smile. Having him finally there with you made you forget about how difficult the previous night had been for you, trying to take care of the green child. As soon as you saw him standing in front of you, your eyelids stopped feeling heavy. "How did it go?".

"I reckon better than you with him", he tilted his head to look inside your place, seeing an identical mess than the one you'd had to deal with the previous night.

"Oh, that", you looked inside for a moment as well. "He did give me some trouble, but nothing I couldn't handle", you forced a smile. You weren't going to deny you wanted to impress him.

"Sure...", he grabbed Grogu from your arms. You felt a huge weight lifting off your shoulders. "Your eyes say otherwise".

"Yeah, well", you cleared your throat, trying to keep it cool. "Nothing I couldn't handle, but it kept me awake for a while", you crossed your arms and leaned on the doorframe. "Bet he's way more tired", you gave the kid an evil smirk. He stuck your tongue out to you.

"I'm sorry, I really had no one to leave him with. I know he's not usually good to people that aren't me or—".

"Hey, it's okay. I had fun", you smiled up at the Mandalorian. "It was a new challenge. Now I've grown stronger as a kid caretaker", you said in a dramatic tone. Din laughed.

Oh, you had missed that sound.

"Well, I'm glad your time with him was useful. I'll make sure to leave him to you more often".

"Oh, no need!", you almost didn't let him finish. "Take your time, you enjoy your time with him", you let out a nervous chuckle. Din laughed again. "Oh, d'you want to come in? Maybe I can give you something to drink, and I can tell you more about the trouble this little one gave me", you patted Grogu's head. He smiled and squealed. It almost looked as if he had forgotten about that last night.

"Well, I won't say no", Din sounded like he was smiling again. You stepped aside to let him in. "Thank you. For taking care of him, I mean. Well... And inviting me in", he sounded nervous, too. You felt relieved to not be the only one.

"My pleasure", you smiled at him. "Uh... Sit wherever you can...", your face heated up in embarrassment. "I'll try to leave it as decent as it was before", you let out a heavy sigh. "You weren't supposed to see this place like this...", you whispered the last part to yourself.

You put some water to boil while you tidied it all up —again. Behind you, Din was whispering something to Grogu as they both sat on your couch. His distorted voice sounded soothing in the background as you did your things. When the water was ready, you put a glass on the table along with some spices jars so he could choose what to put in it. You smiled at Din before getting back to fixing Grogu's mess.

A sudden noise made you turn back around. The first thing you saw was pieces of ceramic spread all over the floor. You looked up to Din a second too early to see part of his chin uncovered. That second was enough for you to take note of his short stubble, barely covering any of the tan skin under it. You were left unspoken, knowing it would give you something to fantasize about that night.

"Dank farrik", he whispered, taking you back to reality. He took Grogu and put him up away from the broken ceramic pieces. "I'm s—".

"I didn't see anything", you spoke involuntarily, fast as a speeder. Din cleared his throat.

"Sorry, he doesn't usually do these things", he kept talking as if nothing had happened. You tried to do so as well.

"Don't worry", you tried to keep the conversation on, despite the uneasy tone you both had.

He helped you clean the mess Grogu had —once more— caused. Both of you kept an eye on him as he stayed away from it all, seeming focused on keeping a little piece of food afloat.

"How can he do that?", you whispered to Din.

"I don't exactly know", he whispered back. "His race seems to have a strong connection to a natural force that allows him to do that", he turned his head slightly in your direction. "Sorry about it, by the way. I know it's pretty uncomfortable to deal with a child with such... abilities".

You laughed at the word.

"It's not your fault, you don't have to apologize", you smiled at him. He sighed as if he also did. "I already knew what I was in for when I told you I'd take care of him, and I didn't really take your warning too seriously. Many parents give me those, but all of their children end up being little angels", you smiled to yourself this time. "Guess not yours...".

"I suppose it was your fault, then", Din cleared his throat. "And I suppose I also owe you one for the messes he made. How about I pay you something to eat? You still have to tell me how did he manage to keep you awake for that long".

Right. With that other mess, you hadn't had time to relate yours and Grogu's adventures from that last night. And he was inviting you out to eat —the very Mandalorian Din Djarin himself—, how could you say no?

"Alright", you got up from the couch. He followed suit after you. "You better pay me the best meal in all of Nevarro".

"Don't get too ahead of yourself", he chuckled lowly.

He grabbed Grogu and exited the house so you could close the door. You walked through the streets, just following Din to wherever it was that he wanted to take you for that meal. The child spent the entire walk giving you murdering looks every time Din wasn't looking. You just decided to play along and stick your tongue out when he gave you those looks. Deep, very deep inside you, you did like that kid, despite all the trouble he had been giving you the previous hours.

You started telling Din everything about it as soon as you took a seat and started eating. With everything you said, he looked down as his kid and gave him the same murdering looks the little one had been giving you all the way to the canteen. He was also trying to excuse his manners, telling you Grogu didn't usually like people he had recently met, and people not close to him and Din, in general. His abilities were just his way of blowing steam.

"I'm sure he didn't want to make such a mess at your place", Din said. "He was just overwhelmed and uneasy in a new place with someone he'd just met".

"Yeah", this time, you were the one to give the kid a murdering look. You still hoped Din wouldn't notice. "I'm sure he didn't", you forced a smile.

It was already late afternoon when you finished your food. Of course, you thanked Din for paying it himself, and for having freed you from Grogu's caretaking. When you came to realize, the green kid was sleeping in his father's arms. For the first time in all the hours you had spent with him, you felt tenderness towards him. Your heart swelled with the same love a parent feels for their kid. You smiled at the feeling, suddenly remembering why you liked children.

You walked Din home to make sure he and his kid were safe —"How gentlemanly of you", he said. It was a long walk, but at last it gave you more time to talk with the Mandalorian. He also invited you in when you got to his place. You couldn't reject it either, since it made things technically equal for the both of you. Then, he told you to get comfortable as he put Grogu to sleep on his room. And then he brought a drink.

"I don't think I should—".

"Come on", he interrupted you, sitting beside you on the floor. "It's my way to repay you. I'm too much of a womp rat as to pay you with credits", you heard him chuckle. For the first time in the two days you had known him, you could feel he was calm and relaxed. Maybe it was because he had finally gotten home —his home—, with his kid safe.

"Next time you leave him with me, I'm not letting you pay me in any way", you gave him a dissatisfied look.

"Fair enough", he shrugged.

He served a glass for each other. You didn't cheer for anything in particular, you just clinked your glasses and gulped it down. Well, at least you did. Din stayed still and silent for a moment, thinking.

Oh, right, the helmet.

"It's okay, I won't look", you said before turning around and giving him your back. You heard him sigh, as if he was smiling again.

"Thanks", was his answer. Then you heard him swallow. "I'm done".

You turned back around. None of you said anything, and he didn't serve more of the drink for any of you. The air was suddenly feeling tense, and you could tell the situation was now uncomfortable.

"Hey, about this morning...", you started. "I meant what I said, I didn't see anything", you stopped to think for a moment. "Well, I saw one bit, but... it wasn't that bad, if I might say", you couldn't help the smirk that formed on your lips, though you tried not to look at him.

"Huh", he let out the beginning of a chuckle. "Thank you... I guess".

A weight seem to be lifted from you both. Din poured more alcohol in each of your glasses. You clinked again. He made you turn around every time he had to drink, but you kept talking with as much enthusiasm as if you were looking into each other's eyes all the time. You were already a few drinks in when he served another one and you, as the previous times, turned to look at the wall behind you. Unexpectedly for you, he grabbed your shoulder and made you face him.

"You already saw this one bit, right?", was the only thing he said before lifting his helmet just enough for his mouth to show, and he gulped down his drink. Then, he put the helmet back in place.

You didn't say a word. Your mind was too busy thinking of the way his lips enveloped the edge of the glass and pursed when he swallowed. When you became aware of how your jaw was dropped mid-air, you shut your mouth with a dark blush, embarrassment being evident on your face. You tried to keep it cool, so you took a sip from your own drink. Still, your eyes didn't leave his helmet —specifically the downer part of it, as if you were expecting to see his mouth again. A hoarse chuckle roamed from the bottom if his throat, then he served more drinks for the two of you. He grabbed his glass again, and lifted his helmet to gulp the alcohol down. Even when he was done with drink, though, it stayed in place.

And then, he took it off.

You barely had time to process what was going on before you found yourself mesmerized by his appearance —again. The small stubble and mustache you had seen that morning looked even better in that dim light, the small gray hairs in between the brown ones making your insides flutter. His lips looked more delicious than any meal you had tasted before —full, pink, tanned like the rest of his skin, and that smile sent you straight to the skies. His nose was perfectly shaped —well, everything in him was— despite the small scar on it, so much that it made you want to run your fingers through it all. His hair did, too. Even disheveled as it was, you had never seen such perfect, beautiful locks. His brown orbs were looking into yours —no, they were staring into your soul. It was all a mix that resulted in a serious expression. 

He had taken his helmet off.

You then understood that it wasn't easy for him to do so. The fact that Mandalorians like him were supposed to never show his face to anybody hit you harder than you had expected when you realized that he was looking directly at you, and with no visor in between you two. He probably hadn't showed a bit of his skin to anyone in years —you wondered if Grogu had seen him the way you were seeing him now.

He cleared his throat involuntarily, making you jump in your seat and taking you back to the real world. He noticed immediately and lifted his hands up in an apologizing way, his expression shifting to one of slight concern.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...", he paused to search the correct words. "I know I'm... not too—".

"You're so beautiful", you whispered before he could say anything else. It had been an automatic sentence, involuntary like most of your actions now. The alcohol was starting to get to your head, and to his, you figured.

He didn't answer back. You could see how he was blushing now, his skin going from tan to red. You tried to hold back your smile as well as you could. Instead, you approached him and grabbed his hands. You heard him swallow hard.

One of your hands went up to his face, cupping his cheek as softly as your shaking fingers allowed you to. Din sighed and closed his eyes, leaning into your touch. The feeling of his breath on the inside of your wrist turned your heart into mush.

You had definitely fallen hard for this man.

As soon as his eyes opened again, you almost jumped over him in an attempt to kiss him. A little peck was all you got, but you didn't want to push it too far. He was the one to kiss you back, for longer. He didn't really wait for you to pull fully back, he just went right in as another automatic answer to your previous action.

What happened next went too fast and too slow at the same time. You didn't have much time to process the fact that Din was leading you to his room and taking his armor off. As soon as alcohol allowed you to catch up to him, you started taking your own clothes off. When you were finally naked, he threw you onto the bed and climbed on top of you.

He touched you like no one had done it before, fucked you like no one had done it before. He was soft, slow, patient with you —even though he wasn't in reality, but he did it, for you—, and still he went all rough and hard when you asked him to. He wanted to make you comfortable about it, tried to make you like every part of it, reaching all the right places in just the right time. And it felt so good.

He left you exhausted. You slept straight through the night, feeling safe in his arms. For the first time in years, you felt full, contented, your heart swelling with happiness. It seemed like you had finally found your place with the right person for you.

Din, on the other hand, didn't have it that clear.

He had revealed his face to you. It didn't sound that bad when he said it that way, but then he started thinking more and more about it. For him, the only thing you had done was taking care of his son. You hadn't even known each other for more than two days! How could he have done that?

How could you have done so much to him in such a short time?

It didn't make any sense. He wasn't supposed to be falling in love with someone like you. He wasn't supposed to be falling in love with someone at all. And yet there he was, arms wrapped around you in the dead of night after giving you the best orgasms of your life. He hadn't felt so confused since the Armorer told him he wasn't a Mandalorian anymore, all because he had taken his helmet off voluntarily for someone else to see.

Did that mean he wasn't a Mandalorian anymore as well?

He pulled away from you and got up from the bed. He went to check on Grogu, who was still sleeping soundly in his room. It looked like he was even more tired than you, after making such a mess back at your place. It made Din smile for a moment, then he remembered you were in his bed.

He walked to the living room, where you'd had the beginning of your encounter the previous night. He grabbed the glasses and put them in the sink, throwing the bottle of alcohol into the trashcan. Din stood still, looking at it in complete rage. That damn bottle had been the cause of his troubles at the moment. He told himself that, after what'd happened, he wouldn't drink a drop of alcohol in a long, long time. Especially not with anyone else, especially not with you.

He put on his armor as fast as he could. The windows let the first rays of the morning sunlight come through and bathe the room. Din sighed, knowing what was going to come later on. He then sat on the floor by the table in the center of the room and waited for you to wake up, as he thought of what he would say to you.

The rays of sunlight danced on your eyelids when you rolled on the bed. You almost didn't wake up, your body too comfortable on the bed of the man that had given you the best day in a long time. A smile played on your lips when you remembered the previous night's events.

You turned back around to wrap your arms around him, but instead you found an empty spot next to you on the bed. You frowned in confusion.

You got up and stretched as well as you could. Your legs were still a bit stiff, but they let you walk.

You found Din sitting on the floor by the living room. He was already dressed, even with his helmet on. You would have thought he was asleep if he hadn't lifted his head up to look at you when he noticed your presence.

"Good morning to you, too", you chuckled and walked in his direction. "It's still early. Maybe we can go back to bed", you grabbed his helmet, ready to take it off. It shocked you that he grabbed your wrists with such strength you thought he would break them right there. "Hey!", you frowned again, pulling your hands away in a quick move. "What's wrong with you?", you made sure to sound upset.

"We have to talk", he said with stern tone.

You feared the worst.

"Don't you dare", was your only answer. You fought as hard as you could to not let the tears escape your eyes.

"Get dressed", he almost sound like he was giving you an order. You knew better than to go against him, so you just did what he had asked you to. "What happened last night can't be repeated", he didn't even wait for you to be seated in front of him.

"Seriously?", you dropped your weight on the floor. "Not even one day?", you scoffed. "I know, maybe it was a bit soon, but we still could've—".

"It's not that", his voice echoed in the room, distorted by the helmet but still sounding angry. "It can't be repeated".

You stayed silent for a moment. Then, you let out a sarcastic laugh.

"So what?", you kept your ironic smile displayed on your lips. "We're going to pretend this didn't happen?", you threw your hands up. "Because I'm not forgetting it easily".

"You should", Din stood up. "It's what I'm going to do".

"Oh, right", another sarcastic chuckle left your mouth as you got up, too. "I forgot you're one of those lonely Mandalorians who can't get close to anyone because whoever it is they love gets hurt", you paused to grab some air. "Or maybe you think you could repay my babysitter services with a special night with Din", you said the last part with a high-pitched voice. 

"Could you be a bit less loud? You're going to wake Grogu u—".

"What if I don't wanna take care of him anymore?".

Silence ruled between the two of you for a little while. Then, Din was the one to laugh in a sarcastic tone.

"Okay, you're just acting like a child now".

"Oh, me?", you huffed. "And it's so mature to tell me to go fuck off because you think you're gonna hurt me if I stay by your side for too long—".

"I told you it's not that—".

"Then what is it?!".

A distant squeal interrupted your conversation. You were so desperate trying to understand why Din was pushing you away like that and you didn't realize you were talking a bit too loud.

Din walked towards Grogu's room. You heard him talking as the kid squealed again. You needed nothing but his absence to walk out of the house as fast as your legs let you move. You looked back many times, waiting for him to, at least, come out and look as you walked away —you didn't even care that he wouldn't say a word. But he didn't. He was way too proud and full of his Mandalorian bullshit to feel any kind of empathy towards you anymore, you thought. After a while of cursing yourself for letting all of that happen despite knowing how Mandalorians were all the same, you stopped looking back and tried to focus on how to get back to your place . You knew it was a long walk, so you had time to think and cry.

But you didn't.

You wouldn't let one single of your tears be wasted to cry for someone like Din. Not after he had taken all of you and then thrown you into the trash as if you were just that —trash. Not after you had opened not only your house, but your heart, to him —and his son—, and he had still treated you like that. You should have known it would happen. Because you did know better than to trust a Mandalorian enough to develop feelings for him. You just happened to be wrong, thinking Din might be different.

He had heard you walking out. He knew it would happen, and he let it be. He knew you were mad at him, and to be honest, he was also mad at himself. For letting all of that happen, for letting you see his face, for letting you get into his heart. And he wanted to go after you and tell you he was sorry —for letting you be his weakness.

But he let you go, and didn't dare to look as you did.

He thought it was the best for you, both of you. But deep, deep inside him, he knew he hadn't done well. Deep, deep inside him, he wanted to go and tell you to come back, that he was wrong and you were right. But he was too proud —and full of his Mandalorian bullshit— to even take a step in your direction. And even being as Mandalorian as he was, he still wanted to go after you and tell you he was sorry. 

Because you really were his weakness, but he didn't want to admit it out loud.

[lalalikecrazy]

Maroon

(G)I-DLE roomate!Soyeon x gn!reader

fluff, slightly suggestive (barely, they just kiss), roommates to lovers, mentions of wine and drinking, sfw, wordcount: 1.1k

Life is full of simple pleasures. Like a latte so good you don't even need sugar. The first few days you can open your windows to let in the breeze as summer shifts from autumn. An artist you love dropping a song that you just know is going to end up in your Spotify wrapped. But one of the best and most underrated pleasures would have to be when Soyeon comes home with a bottle of wine and declares it “roommate wine night”.

notes: the reader is implied to be taller than Soyeon; inspired by some of the lyrics in Maroon by Taylor Swift and the cat ver. of I Feel; it's been nearly a year since I've written anything here, but please enjoy!

⋆⭒˚.⋆

Not even the sound of Soyeon opening the door of your shared apartment pulls your attention away from your laptop. Faintly, behind the sound of your fingers pounding on the keys, you can hear her tossing her purse onto the couch. 

“Y/N?” She calls out, and when you turn away from your desk for a second, she holds up a bottle of wine and grins. It’s a familiar smile, full lips and infectious excitement. Soyeon isn’t just your roommate, she’s one of your closest friends. She knows what you need before you need it, can make you laugh without even trying, inspires you in every way. 

“Roommate wine night?” You ask. You’d love to drop work, spend time with her, but emails and deadlines swirl in the back of your mind, giving your voice a weary tinge.

“Roommate wine night.” She confirms, “It's been too long,”

You hesitate. “I don’t know, I haven’t been as productive as I wanted…” Your words are punctuated by the sound of your finger tapping the backspace key over and over, before starting to fly over the keys again.

Soyeon repeats your name, softly this time. When you look up, there she is, with one hand on your shoulder, giving you a look you know all too well. You’ve given her that same look, when she couldn’t tear herself from her work at the studio and you had to insist she come home to sleep.

“Trust me, you deserve a break.” Soyeon says, and you can feel yourself shutting the laptop before you even really realize, unable to tear your eyes away from the dark ones looking down at you.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

Over an hour later, you and Soyeon are sitting on the floor of your apartment, refilling each other's mugs with the red wine she had bought. For roommate wine nights, she always got your favorite, fruity and sweet.

The incense you lit now fills the apartment with its earthy scent, and the din of city traffic mingles with the soft music of the record you had put on. But above it all, you and Soyeon’s shared laughter rings throughout the tiny apartment. It’s the hallmark of every roommate wine night. Really, of every night the two of you spend together. It’s what makes your apartment feel like a home.

Sitting like this, your knees are touching. Soyeon’s dark hair falls over her shoulders, shining in the dim light. When she reaches for the bottle to pour more wine, you can see the tattoo on her shoulder under the strap of her tank top. You watch it move with her skin.

And you don’t miss the way her eyes linger on your lips as you raise the mug to your mouth or how they flit, for a second, to your fingers wrapped around the handle. Her cheeks are slightly reddened, you realize.

It must be the wine, but you can’t help that your first thought is how cute she is, followed by the sensation of your own face flushing.

When the record ends, you can hear the fuzzy sound of the vinyl stopping. Your conversation trails. Soyeon’s eyes snap to yours, sparking.

“Hey, I got it, it's my turn to pick the next album!” She says, starting to leap up. But as she does, she bumps into you, knocking the mug in your hands. The wine spills onto your shirt, vibrant against the fabric.

“Oh, shit, Y/N, I’m sorry,” your roommate gasps, frantic as you watch the maroon stain spread. She heads to the kitchen, starting to grab napkins.

“Soyeon,” you say, following her, “It’s fine, really,”

You pull off your shirt, and she’s turning back towards you with a fist full of napkins. Her eyes drag over your form. Her lips quirk up, and you think you can hear her breath catch. She looks up at you, her back turned to the counter and the sink. You stop for a moment, enjoying the feeling of her eyes on your body, before you realize yourself.

“Hey, Soyeon,”

“Yeah?”

“Can you move? I’m gonna rinse this out,” you say.

“Right, yeah,” she shuffles as you step past her, to the sink. You turn the faucet on, soaking the shirt as Soyeon watches.

“I hope the stain doesn’t set,” she murmurs, “it was a cute shirt.”

“It was just an at-home shirt,” you grin. “Besides, it’s fine if it does, it was worth it. You were right, I needed a wine night tonight.”

“See?” you can hear the smile in her voice, and it makes yours grow, “I know you too well, Y/N.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you wring out the fabric, then drape it over the faucet to dry. Soyeon hands you some of the napkins as you turn to face her and start to wipe off any remaining wine from your chest. 

Again, you can feel her eyes tracking your movements.

“See something, you like?” you tease, and she laughs, but doesn’t deny it, which makes you laugh, too.

“See?” you quote, “I know you too well.”

She huffs, and the pleased flush returns to her face. She looks up at you, and your motions still. You look away from yourself and meet her eyes, their deep brown glow. They’re like espresso, you think, they warm you up and give you a jolt of energy all at once.

God, you realize. You could stare into your roommate’s eyes forever.

“Let me help you, Y/N,” and Soyeon’s hands with the last of the napkins are on your skin, soft as her words were when they fell from her lips.

Can she feel your heartbeat right now? It's all you can think about, other than her body so close to yours– 

“I like you.” The words tumble from your lips at once, and even though you’re scared, you can’t bring yourself to want to take them back. “I know we’re roommates, and it’s complicated, but I–”

“Hey, you’re not just my roommate. Y/N," she pouts, "you’re my best friend."

“So, even more complicated, but–”

“And I like you, too” Soyeon finishes.

Your hands are wrapping around hers, gathering the napkins before dropping them to the tile floor. She starts to protest the mess, but then one of those hands of yours is in her hair, the other on her waist, pulling her in, closer, impossibly. 

“Kiss me,” she breathes. Her eyes are on your lips, it's undeniable.

She’s undeniable, your closest friend. You oblige and melt into her. Tentative at first, but so right.

When you pull away, you’re both laughing and the sound fills your apartment with warmth, like it always has. Like nothing has changed. But Soyeon is looking at you like everything has. It's a good change. Sweet, like your favorite wine. A stain that you don’t want to come out.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

[joelsgirl]

Love Thy Neighbor Pt. 1

Muse: Joel Miller Word Count: 2k Content Warnings: Age Gap, Size Difference, grief, parental loss, fluff, No Use of Y/N A/N: Set pre-outbreak, maybe a year or two before. Ambiguous timeline. A Gift For: @dreamsofmandalore - A little SJ for you. Thank you for being you. Happy Birthday, darling. + Want to see more? I’d love to see some requests, here!

The night should have been warm, beautiful, almost balmy. It was only the start of fall, things shouldn't have shifted so fast, yet no matter what you do, you can't seem to stop the chill, like it was deep in your bones, freezing you from the inside. Glancing around, you wonder if others can feel it too.

Everyone else seems to be fine, having a great time. The block party was being run by your best friend's mom. She and Lisa lived in the house down the end of your street. Her yard backed onto rolling hills, marking the edge of suburbia. This wasn't your scene, you weren't ever into parties, more of a homebody, really.

Even at college, you preferred late nights, the scent of dusty old books and the dim light of the libraries lamps. It's been six months since you graduated college, and it should have been the time of your life - out exploring the world, getting that high paying job you'd worked so hard for, living to the fullest, or whatever that means...

Losing your dad wasn't something on the cards. He was your best friend, the only family you had left... but fate was a cruel mistress. Moving back home after graduation was easy, sorting out the house and putting him to rest... was another thing entirely. Lisa had become your lifeline through it all... and though a season had passed, it wasn't any easier.

The din of the party was getting to you, the noise all too overwhelming. You were here for Lisa, wanting to enjoy the night as much as she was... but couldn't handle yet another concerned neighbor asking you how you were coping. Strolling down the back of her yard, your fingers trailing over the solid wooden posts of her fence until they reach the latch to the back gate. A quick check over your shoulder to make sure no one has noticed you before you slip out.

There's a small, narrow path that opens into a clearing. It takes you a minute to scan the canopy line before you find the treehouse your dad built for you and Lisa when you were kids. It's all so overgrown now but the steps to the ladder are still nailed into the large trunk. Testing the lowest one out with the toe of your ballet slippers, you climb up into the large space. He was a builder, a freelance contractor and this place had been your safe haven for so many years.

You hadn't visited in a while, but the interior was spotless. The walls painted a now faded burgundy, the window seat and sofa inside still clean and fresh. Lisa had mentioned coming by recently to tidy it up but she'd added some more knickknacks. This space had always felt like home, like a private solace, protecting you from the cruelty of the world below.

There was a desk against the far wall, a cupboard with books and a small coffee table in the center. Your dad had managed to hoist them up and set them inside. Climbing onto the soft cushion of the window seat, your back against the wall as you survey the clearing. Everything looks so small from this height, so insignificant.

The dark silhouette of another appears just below, so quiet you hadn't heard him coming... but you knew who it was, would recognize him anywhere. Your heart skipping a beat at the sight of him, idly wondering how he knew where to find you. "Hey..." His voice was low, sensual even from down there... at least to you. You bite back the grin wanting to take over as you nod to him, "Hey, yourself."

Joel had moved in to the house next door right around the time you graduated college. He had the stoic, single dad routine down pat; he was also kind, charming and seriously good looking. Everyone wanted a piece of him, but all he cared about was Sarah. His beautiful daughter, ten years old and sharp as a tack. She kept them both on their toes, that was for sure. Joel was a builder, just like her dad. Long hours and hard labour to provide the kind of like he thought she deserved. His brother Tommy would drop in on occasion, the genes ran in the family there... But Joel, he was something else.

"Mind if I come up?" You sit a little straighter, wishing there was a mirror nearby to check your reflection or something... "Sure!" He'd never been here before, but he knew about it. You told him when you were reminiscing about your dad shortly after... everything happened. Pulling yourself up from the window seat, you move to lift the latch, tugging open the trap door and helping him to pull himself up into the treehouse. "How'd you know I was here?" You ask, curiosity getting the better of you.

"Was watching you." There was something in his eyes. So dark, chocolate had nothing on them. So deep as he drank in the sight of you. That concern dancing behind his gaze melted you, the warmth in his tone something new, something you'd started picking up on more and more of late. "Saw you slip out the back... No one else noticed." He was standing so close, you could see the gold flecks and caramel highlights in those eyes from the fading glow of the sun's rays. "Oh?" You were normally such a conversationalist, but there was something so intense about him, you were suddenly lost for words.

"Yeah, you looked like you could use a friend. Didn't want you alone out here." He paused for a moment, his words sinking in before he broke that connection, shifting his focus to the treehouse. There was a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips as his hands slipped into his pockets, his leather jacket tightening around the thick muscle of his biceps. The black cotton shirt beneath it draped perfectly off the broad expanse of his chest, his black jeans almost faded. He walked around the room, eyeing off everything in the room before settling against the edge of the desk. "I see why you like it here so much."

There was something so surreal about having him here. He almost didn't belong. He towered over you, even like this. His body exuding nothing but strength and power as he filled the small space. Barely large enough for two little girls once upon a time, let alone him... The truth was, you'd been noticing the change in him because it mirrored the one in you. Thoughts of him always lingering in the back of your mind, afraid to look at them too closely.

"What are you really doing here?" Surprised he'd left the party, even though he hadn't brought Sarah with him this time. "I meant what I said; didn't want you alone out here." His voice was low, sweet like honey. It was one of your favorite things about him, the sound filling the space, tickling your skin as you bite back a smile. Your heart doing that thing it always does whenever he was involved; fritzing out as it fought to maintain some kind of regular rhythm.

You edge a little closer, half a step, then another. As if testing the waters. He knew it, too, a slight jerk of his head telling you to keep going until you were just within reach of him. A hand reaches out lazily, fingers hooking in the waistline of your mini skirt. Tugging you the rest of the way, until you were standing between his outstretch legs. Even though he's perched on the edge of the desk, he's still so much taller than you. His body so big, you wonder how it would feel to get lost in it. To have him wrap those arms around you and hold you until all your worries melt away. The rest of the world, too.

His hands slide down your sides, settling on your waist as he holds you tightly. Your cheeks feel warm, a soft flush coloring them as tingles rush down your spine. "Been thinking about this for a while..." God, that voice. He could bring a civilization down to it's knees with that thing. At least, he could, you. "Thinking about what, exactly?" You can barely get your words out, the sound a soft murmur as your breath catches... The way he's looking at you right now, the world really was melting around you. Nothing else mattered but him. Right there. If only you could freeze that moment...

His eyes flicker to your lips, to the way you're biting the lower one. The usually stoic façade gone, replaced by a hunger you'd never noticed before. One hand leaves your waist to cup your face. Thumb locking on your jaw as strong fingers grip the back of your neck, holding you in place as he dips his head, his lips finding yours in a hard kiss. Your palms find his chest, pressing against them as you deepen the kiss.

Your mind flashing to all those late nights at home, crying as you try to pick up the pieces of your life, only to look up and find Joel right there with you. Holding you, helping you, a support like no other. He'd always been right by your side, had been the one for you long before you were willing to admit it to yourself...

All the unspoken emotion pouring out between you as the hand still resting on your waist tightens its grip, pulling you harder against him, as if letting you go would mean losing you and he couldn't possibly bare the thought of it. It felt like an eternity and a single moment all at once when he finally broke away. Pressing a kiss to your forehead before looking in your eyes once again, his thumb brushing your lower lip as a smile tugged at his own. "This, right here... you... I can't get you out of my head."

You open your mouth to say something when his phone goes off, the buzz in his pocket pulling him away. The apologetic look on his face as he tugs it out entirely unnecessary, he hated the damn thing, kept it for two reasons. Sarah and Tommy. "It's okay," you say as soon as he puts it away, knowing real life was calling him away...

"It's Sarah, there's a crisis at home, something about a missing textbook and needing to finish her homework. Honestly couldn't tell you where she gets those brains from." The sheepish smile was back on those perfect lips and you can't help but ball his shirt in a small fist as you tug him back down for another kiss. A short one, but enough to tell him you're not going anywhere. You walk down together, away from the party, a shortcut to the main road leading you both back to your driveway. He lives next door, but your house is first and he takes a moment to step away... those perfect eyes lingering on you.

"Can I call you, later tonight?" The smile on your face the only answer he needs as he nods, watching until you're safely up the driveway and inside your house before making his way to his girl. You pause, your back leaning against the door as your fingers lift to press idly against your lips, thinking about the way he kissed you, about him... Fishing your phone out of your pocket and clutching it to your chest as you make your way upstairs, counting down the minutes until you could hear that voice again...

TAG LIST: @dreamsofmandalore @devilmademewriteit @devilmademepostit @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @pedro-pedrito-pascalito >>> If you'd like to be tagged in this series or any other fics, please let me know!

[aestheticpearl]

𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 — 𝐝𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐣𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧

(no use of y/n)

a/n: everytime i rewatch the mandalorian i think about if din had a friend that was also a mandalorian, so here are some headcanons

first meeting

you were the apprentice to the armorer and had met din when he first brought the case of beskar to her so she could forge it into something of great purpose. you struck up a conversation with him asking about his armor and the damage that it seem to have. 

“so who rocked your shit?”

“mud horn”

“woahhhh that’s so cool”

you were definitely younger then him and he easily picked up on that, you had so much energy. he thought it was funny how bright eyed and bushy tailed you were for the armorers apprentice. it was nice to meet someone who had a little more positive outlook on life.

how you started traveling together

after din returned to the underground tunnels clearly injured with a small group of people. he asked for the armored to come with them. she declined and told him to take you instead, much to your shock.

“what? i’m not leaving you!” she turned to you.

“you must. i will stall them, if you remain with me i can’t protect you. you must go with din djarin.” she says, at the end you hear her voice soften. “i will be fine” you nod and turn to the small group.

“we have to go now”

life on the razor crest

din wouldn’t admit it out loud but you traveling with him made his life so much more easier. you helped a lot looking after the kid and your forging skills came in handy every now and then. he trained with you in hand to hand to brush up on both of your skills.

“you’re pretty good at this” he says bluntly.

“i’m better at defense but thank you for the compliment” you say as you block another one of his strikes.

the small child watches both of you closely with his big eyes. he sure is funny looking.

babysitting

“remind me why i can’t go with you again?”

“cause someone has to watch the kid, it’s far too dangerous for both of you”

you’re practically pouting at the statement and so his the child in your lap. you pet his small head with your gloved hand and he coos out at you, telling you that he enjoys the affection you’re giving him.

“i could handle it”

“i’m not risking it, plus the kid likes you”

you let out a sigh and look down at the small child smiling up at you, dang it he is too cute. you give your pinky that he grips tightly with his little three fingers hand.

“he’s lucky i like him too”

patching each other up

“you need to focus on patching yourself up”

“you are in far worse condition than me”

you point to the large gash in his side that you’re trying to tend to but he seems to think the cut on your leg is far more important than the near fatal injury he possesses currently.

“din please just let me help you so i can’t help myself” you say through gritted teeth, you hope that your voice modulator doesn’t pick up that you sound in pain.

“fine but you’re letting me help you after”

“deal”

getting separated

maybe you should’ve stayed on the ship this time, you’re definitely lost and your com isn’t working due to the distance at least that’s what you’ve pegged the problem as.

this is honestly really embarrassing, you could’ve sworn that the ship was parked here in this now empty spot. there’s no way din would leave you here though, right? well if you think about it, there’s plenty of reasons for him to leave you behind. maybe this was cause you told him he need to eat something that wasn’t just a quick meal.

“hey can you hear me? i’m landing near your location” oh thank god.

“thought you left me behind tin head” he scoffs.

“you’re one to talk, i was out looking for you cause you didn’t stay put”

feelings towards you

din hated to admit it but he had grown a fond attachment to you and so had the kid. you just seemed to fit so nicely in their lives, it felt natural to have you around and it was nice to have someone to bounce strategies off of plus you knew your way around the ship and welded most damage that was done to it.

“hey you’re staring off into nothingness again” you tap his helmet lightly and he shakes himself back to reality to face you.

you’re hold the kid on your lap as he looks at din with his big eyes. he coos and tilts his head to the side and smiles up at din.

for the first time in a while din felt comfortable with someone else’s presence and he liked being around you.

without the helmet

when din had to revealed his face to further your mission to rescue the child you didn’t say a word to him about anything that he did. you didn’t tell him how he broke the creed that you both were suppose to be up holding and he certainly didn’t tell him about how attractive he looked.

“i didn’t see anything.” din doesn’t respond, he just nods at you and walks back into the ship silently.

you feel bad for him, he had to sacrifice the creeds laws to rescue this child that clearly means a lot to him. it’s quite touching if you really think about it.

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in honor of season three coming out

.love always <3 pearl

.masterlist