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soaringthroughthegalaxy · 1 year ago

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Unravelling the Pact

After back-to-back missions, you and the boys finally get some downtime. Enjoying the nightlife on Coruscant, a stranger is all too willing to dance with you, leading to the boys making a decision that will change everything. Pre-Echo.

Pairing: All Batch x f!reader

Word count: 3.6K.

Rating: 18+ MINORS DNI!!

Warnings: dancing with a stranger in a club, grinding, possessive Batch (but in a non-toxic way), bickering brothers, small insult from a stranger, flirting, pet names, communication and consent are sexy, discussion of poly, first kiss, roaming hands, I guess this counts as friends to lovers?

A/N: I'll die on the hill that Tech and Cross are tube twins, and that Wrecker is a smart/emotionally intelligent man.

This can be read as a stand-alone or as a prequel to Painted Pretty.

The loud music drowned out the sounds of the city outside, the dancefloor vibrating under your feet from the heavy bass as you moved to the beat.

Nearby, tucked in a booth, the boys kept an eye on you. Dancing wasn’t really their thing, especially after the string of back-to-back missions you’d all been running, but that hadn’t stopped you from wanting to let loose a little more. You’d dragged them out of the hotel, having splurged a little on some rooms with comfortable beds during this period of shore leave, knowing you all needed some R&R.

You’d found an okay-looking club where the boys didn’t draw too much attention – they didn’t look like Regs, which opened up a world of new possibilities, especially once they donned their civilian clothes. Drinks were decently priced, and the floor wasn’t sticky, both of which were a win in your books. You could feel the weight of their gazes on you occasionally, but you paid them little mind. That was their prerogative if they wanted to be sourpusses and stay in the booth.

A year you’d been with them, traversing the galaxy, trying desperately to keep them safe. As their civilian handler, you fed them missions and made sure they came back in one piece – the Kaminoans couldn’t have anything happen to their prized experimental unit, after all – and surprisingly, it hadn’t taken long for them to warm up to you, for you to become one of them. The black Aurebesh ‘99’ Crosshair had inked on your wrist six months ago, while the others crowded around and watched, was a constant reminder of that.

“Uh oh, incoming,” Wrecker grumbled, eyes watching as someone made a beeline through the bar towards you.

All eyes at the table snapped in your direction. Hunter’s jaw clenched, Tech’s fingers tightened around his datapad, Wrecker sat up straighter, and Crosshair’s eyes narrowed at the man approaching you.

Clammy hands on your waist spooked you a little, and you turned to find the culprit. “You look a little lonely out here.” The man who’d approached you spoke. He was a little taller than you and couldn’t be more than a few years older, with tousled blonde hair and green eyes. His smile was warm, as was his body as he pressed closer. “Dance with me.” He insisted, shifting behind you, sliding an arm around your waist to pull your back to his chest and your ass to his crotch, the pair of you now moving to the beat.

At the booth, the boys bristled. Downing the last of the Corellian whiskey he’d been nursing, Crosshair stood. He could only make it one step in your direction before Hunter stopped him. “Vod.” His older brother's voice made him groan, turning back to face the table.

Hunter shook his head. “We agreed not to interfere.” He points out.

Crosshair grits his teeth. “He’s got his hands on her.” He hisses out, sparing a glance over his shoulder in your direction.

“And she doesn’t seem to mind,” Hunter states, even though it kills him inside to admit it. He was trying not to listen to your fluttering heartbeat or the flirtatious words being whispered in your ear by the stranger, but you were like a damn honing beacon, and he couldn’t tune it out.

“I mind,” Crosshair answers sharply, narrowed brown eyes focused on his oldest brother.

Hunter sighs quietly. Crosshair’s distrust of outsiders and his jealous streak had always been an issue. It was a miracle he’d taken to you so quickly a year ago - Hunter had been sure they’d go through countless handlers as the war progressed.

Frustration flashed in Crosshair’s eyes. “She’s ours.” He states.

“We agreed.” Hunter leans forward in his seat, silently imploring his brother to sit back down and shut up. Ever since they’d been old enough to talk, they’d formed pacts. And when you’d joined them, a new pact had been added to the list.

Pact 52. None of them would make a move on you, regardless of the fact they wanted you.

Your comfort was paramount, and they didn’t want to put you in an awkward position.

“You’d be fine if she went home with him?” Crosshair spits the word like it's poison, shooting a glare over his shoulder at the stranger you’re dancing with, whose hands are grasping at your body as if he’s known you his entire life.

Hunter doesn’t have a comeback for that. He wouldn’t be okay with it. Not at all, in fact. But you’re a grown woman and he has no say in what, or who you do. If you want to spend the night in a stranger's bed, all he can hope is that you’ll leave your tracker on, insist he wraps it, and comm them if there’s a problem.

“I would not be fine with it,” Tech interjects, his eyes shifting between his brothers, datapad long forgotten on the table.

Hunter huffs. “We made a pact. When she joined, we agre-“

“Kriff the pact.” Crosshair spits, cutting Hunter off. “She’s not going home with him. He doesn’t know shit about her.” He presses his palms to the table as he leans down, the booth tucked away enough that no one can hear their conversation.

The boys fall silent, each remembering the first and only time you'd gone home with a stranger. Shore leave was hard to come by, and you spent most of it with them, but you’d been up at the bar, chatting away with the barman, when you’d been approached. Hunter could still remember hearing the guy flirt with you; Wrecker could remember how he’d reached out to touch your arm. He’d bought you a cocktail you hated but had politely drank, Crosshair had noted, and you’d chatted for a little while. Then you’d disappeared with him, Tech’s datapad pinging a few minutes after you’d left with a message not to wait up for you.

And in the morning, you’d come back to the Marauder smelling of that stranger, with a small hickey on your throat that you’d tried desperately to conceal. It had nearly killed them.

“And what happens if she doesn’t want us, or only wants one of us? Could you handle that if it’s not you?” Hunter sighs as he leans back in his seat. This wasn’t a new debate – they often bickered about it – but it had never been this charged.

Fear and jealousy rage inside of Crosshair. He didn’t want to think about that. You were theirs, and you wanted them just as much they wanted you. It was a fact.

“I-I don’t want her to go home with anyone else either.” Wrecker finally pipes up, looking awkwardly between his brothers and you. You’re still dancing with the stranger, laughing at something he’d said, eyes closed as you grind back against him. Wrecker feels an odd coil of anger in his gut that someone else has their hands on you. It’s a new feeling for him, and he doesn’t like it.

“All in favour of dissolving Pact 52.” Crosshair throws down the mantle, glancing between his brothers. He was tired of holding back.

Tech lifts his hand a little in agreement, Wrecker following suit. But for it to be dissolved, there had to be complete consensus.

All eyes turn to Hunter, who’s staring at Crosshair like he’s gone crazy. His youngest brother could sometimes be stubborn and hard-headed, but he’d never called for a pact dissolution before. Tearing his eyes away, Hunter watches for a second as you dance with the stranger, taking in the way his hands are starting to creep down your body, how close his lips are to your neck. Fire rushes through his veins. “Go and get our girl.” He growls out his agreement, eyes swinging back to his brothers.

Crosshair smirks in satisfaction, standing back up to full height. Dropping his toothpick onto the table, he’s on the move again, slinking through the crowd in your direction. Tech follows hot on his twins' heels, tucking his datapad back into its pouch on his belt.

Hunter sighs, watching them go, not entirely sure whether he’s just agreed to the self-destruction of his squad or the best thing to ever happen to them. All he knows is that he and his brothers are selfish and don’t want to share you with anyone else. He turns his focus to Wrecker, raising an eyebrow in silent question.

“They can break the ice. If it don’t work and she don’t want us, we can blame them.” Wrecker explains with a grin. He wants so desperately to go to you, to put himself between you and the stranger, to feel your body pressed against his. But he also doesn’t want to overwhelm you, so he’ll sit back for now and let his younger brothers do all the leg work.

Hunter chuckles. Taking a sip of his drink, his dark eyes watch as Crosshair and Tech reach you.

Lost in the music, you don’t realise the boys have approached until the man behind you – Trent, you think he’d said his name was – stiffens. “Hey buddy, do you mind?” You hear him bark over the song, your eyes flying open as your hips stop moving, finding Crosshair and Tech next to you. Your brows furrow in confusion.

“No,” Crosshair answers, his fingers tightly wrapped around the man's wrist, prying it from your body. “Scram.” He demands.

The warmth of Trent’s hand disappears from your waist, and your confusion only increases as Tech reaches for you, gently drawing you closer to them and away from Trent.

“Hey, take your hands off her.” Trent has no idea what’s happening but tries to break free from Crosshair’s grip, worried for your safety as you’re pulled away.

“I know them, it’s okay.” You find your voice, raising a hand in a placating gesture. Trent stares at you for a beat, before his green eyes flick to Tech and Crosshair.

“Scram,” Crosshair repeats, low and deadly, as Trent meets his gaze.

Trent swallows. “Eh not worth it anyway.” He frowned toward the three of you, shaking his wrist free before stumbling back into the crowd and turning tail.

Trent’s words sting a little, but before that sting can settle, deft fingers hook under your chin and tilt your head, and your focus is pulled to Tech. “You look so lovely, darling.” He coos over the music, those soft brown eyes of his skating across your face and then down your body, chasing away Trent’s insult.

You blink a few times, brain pausing. Have you died on some remote planet somewhere and been teleported to a different dimension? Pet names weren’t uncommon – the boys had them for you, and you had them for them, but they were never affectionate. They were shortened forms of names and occasionally just a descriptor. And Tech was…flirting?

“This is new.” Crosshair’s voice slinks against your ear as one of his arms slides around your waist, and he presses against your back, right where Trent had been moments before. His free hand smoothes down the curve of your side, across the dress you’d treated yourself to and had delivered to the hotel. Life in armour had made you appreciate the rare chance to dress up.

Your confusion only doubles. “If you two don’t tell me the hell is going on, I will purposefully snap every toothpick between here and Kamino and put viruses on all our datapads.” You threaten.

Crosshair glances up, catching Tech’s gaze. They communicate silently, the strange phenomenon you’d witnessed a handful of times over the last year.

“Will you join us back at the table, please, darling? There is something we wish to talk to you about.” Tech finally answers your question.

Curious, you nod, letting them lead you back across the dance floor to the booth. Crosshair slides in first, Tech’s hand on your back guiding you in next, and then he sits, keeping you safe between them. “Is something wrong?” You ask, now more worried than confused as you look between all four brothers.

“No, cyar’ika,” Hunter answers, the smokiness of his voice making the new pet name sound sinful, and you blink a little quickly at it, unable to control the strange thud of your heart.

Silence sits with the five of you for a moment, the four men communicating with glances before Hunter leans in a little. “Were you planning on going home with him?” He asks, genuinely curious.

The question stuns you, and a small flare of annoyance erupts in your chest. “That’s none of your business.” You answer calmly.

Hunter gives a slight nod of his head, conceding the point. Taking a deep breath, he leans back in his seat and rethinks his approach. “It suits you.” He comments, unable to stop his gaze from dropping, from taking in how breathtaking you look in that little dress.

Heat rises in your cheeks. Another compliment on your appearance. You weren’t used to this – usually, you only received them for your work, for a mission well done. “T-Thank you.” You stammer out.

Satisfaction crosses Hunter’s face. “You’re important to us, you know that, right?” He asks, wanting to ensure that as this conversation progresses, you know they’re not just after frivolous fun.

Brows drawing downward, you nod. Under the table, you feel Crosshair’s slender fingers turn your hand over, the pads of his fingers gliding over the ink he’d etched into your skin. On your other side, you feel Tech lifting a hand, reaching out to tuck an errant strand of your hair – fallen loose while dancing – behind your ear.

If Crosshair’s touch had given you a rough idea of where this was going, Tech’s actions took it to a new level. It was as subtle as a Rancor in a den of antiquities. A strange sensation settles in your stomach, growing as you glance at Hunter again. The look in his eyes confirms your suspicions, and you swallow thickly.

They want you.

After a year of pining for them, resigning yourself to the friend zone, they want you. A million thoughts and questions rush through your mind, none of them sticking or answered. But if they want you, then there's something you need to say.

“No.” You state, catching the way Crosshair’s fingers pause, all four sets of brown eyes staring at you as you glance around the booth. For a moment, you can’t believe you have these incredible men wrapped around your little finger, hanging on your every word. “I wasn’t going to go home with him.” You clarify, eyes swinging back to Hunter, though you don’t miss the way all four brothers quietly let out the breaths they’d been holding. “Wasn’t my type anyway.” You tack on as your eyes betray you and dip for a nanosecond down to Hunter’s lips.

What would it be like to kiss him? Or Wrecker? Tech? Crosshair?

The fingers around your wrist tighten, and you glance down to watch the action, missing the look that Crosshair and Tech share across you. The air seems to vibrate with unspoken words.

Tech broke the silence, leaning in, his voice a soft caress. “That is excellent news, darling.”

Tilting your head, you glanced his way, taking in all the details you adored – the sharp angles of his jawline and nose, expressive brown eyes, and lips that looked oh-so-soft.

A light bump against your foot pulls your attention away from the genius, eyes darting to where a large boot is pressed against the side of your heels. Eyes drifting up, Wrecker offers you a fond smile as you meet his gaze. Heart hammering, you know you can’t keep them waiting.

Crosshair’s fingers are now skirting around your wrist, drawing lazy patterns as Tech rests a hand under the table against your thigh, fingers splayed and curling around you – steady and comforting.

“It’s your choice, cyar’ika.” Hunter captures your attention, understanding this is a pivotal moment for you all and could change everything. He decides to lay their cards on the table. “We’d like you to be ours. But we understand that’s a lot to ask. We’ve shared everything in life except a woman. You’re the first we want, so there might be bumps along the way – nothing we can’t work through.” He notes. “The feelings aren’t new, either. It’s…well…we’ve wanted you since you joined us.”

All this time, they’ve wanted you, and you’ve wanted them. All this time, you could’ve been... “Then why now?” You question.

“It hurt, thinkin’ you’d be going home with that guy,” Wrecker answers before the others could, a large hand rubbing at the nape of his neck. “And it’s gettin’ real hard to keep pretending.” He shrugs, hand falling from his neck. “But we’ll keep doin’ it if this ain’t what you want. You’re our priority.” Wrecker is hasty to add.

You’d never been someone’s priority before, and it comforted you knowing they’d immediately back off if you said the word. You reach across the table with your free hand, sliding it into Wrecker’s to link your fingers with his. Holding the big man's gaze, you give a small nod. “I want this.” You decide. “All of you.” You clarify, glancing around at the four brothers, watching as delight and surprise crosses their faces. “The feeling isn’t new, either.” You mimic Hunter’s words as a year’s worth of weight lifts off your chest. You know there’s a lot more to discuss and many things to work out to keep things fair, but making your intentions clear is a good start.

Crosshair’s grip around your wrist tightens, and you turn your head towards him. Longing and desire swirl in his hawkish gaze.

You only have a moment to commit his expression to memory before you feel the soft brush of his lips against your own, like the fragile wings of a butterfly alighting on a delicate flower. It was barely there, an exploration of the unknown, but it ignited a spark that threatened to consume you both. Eyes closing, you surrendered to the moment, and your lips met again, this time with more urgency and hunger as the bar's sounds faded.

“Hey, that’s not fair!” Wrecker protested, scowling at his youngest brother.

Hunter held out a hand, silencing him. Dark eyes focused on your face, and then on the way your shoulders dropped as you relaxed into the kiss, how your chest rose and fell a little quicker with each breath, and the gorgeous curve of your throat as Crosshair used his free hand to tilt your chin for a better angle to deepen the kiss. Senses tuning in on you, Hunter picked up on your rapid heartbeat. His nostrils flared, your sweet scent coming into focus even under the layers of other smells from the bar. With every second the kiss continued, your scent became sharper.

Catching Tech and Wrecker’s eyes, Hunter tipped his head toward the rest of the bar. The three brothers pushed out of the booth in sync, leaving you in Crosshair’s capable hands while they grabbed your jacket from the coatroom, flagged down a taxi, and settled the tab at the bar.

Lips still pressed to Crosshair’s, you gasp at the feeling of a warm hand on your back, reluctantly pulling away and opening your eyes, turning to see who’s touching you. Your gaze lands on Tech just as Crosshair’s lips find purchase on your jaw, trailing down your throat. A whine of pleasure slides out before you can stop it, and you watch as Tech swallows thickly at the noise, offering out a hand to you.

Shakily, you take it, enjoying the contact as your heart races, every nerve alight as you’re guided out of the booth, and you hear Crosshair grumble as he slides out after you.

“You only got away with that because you are the youngest.” Tech chides him, though the bite to his words is lacking. If anything, he’s jealous his brother took the opportunity before he could. In return, Crosshair offers him a trademark smirk, placing a fresh toothpick between his lips, not at all remorseful.

The two of them escort you through the club – Tech leading you by the hand with Crosshair bringing up the rear, the warmth of the sniper's hand pressed against your lower back.

As you step out into the city, your jacket is placed across your shoulders before you can feel a pinch of chill, strong hands guiding you towards a taxi Wrecker had flagged down, the gentle giant holding the door open for you.

The five of you cram in. Hunter is pressed to your right, Wrecker to your left, while Crosshair and Tech take opposite seats. A tanned, tattooed hand lands on your right thigh as the taxi pulls away and into the night sky, deceptively soft fingers drawing slowly up to the hem of your dress, the red fabric pushed aside oh so gently as those same fingers curl around your body and hold on to you.

You’re so caught up watching Hunter’s hand roam across your body that you’re startled ever so slightly as Wrecker’s large paw starts doing the same to your left thigh. A low chuckle from Tech has your eyes flicking across the dimly lit cabin, catching the wisps of amusement and desire on his face.

“That little heart of yours is racing, mesh’la.” The smoky rasp of Hunter’s voice ghosts against your ear as he leans closer, making you feel like you’re about to combust. You have no idea how this will work or how the night will end. What you know is that you trust them implicitly and can’t wait to have your hands on them.

#the bad batch x reader #bad batch x reader #tbb x you #tbb x reader #bad batch x you #tbb tech x you #tbb tech x reader #tbb crosshair x you #tbb crosshair x reader #tbb hunter x you #tbb hunter x reader #tbb wrecker x you #tbb wrecker x reader #friends to lovers #mutual pining #the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #star wars clone wars #reverse harem

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illdowhatiwantthanks · 7 months ago

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May the Fourth Be with You

Casey Novak x fem!reader Warnings: explicit language (maybe?), implied sex (maybe?), fluffy times, Star Wars V spoilers (I guess?), idk let me know if I've missed anything Word count: 1.7k

Summary: You and Casey are watching the twins so your parents can go on vacation and, unbeknownst to Casey, you fully plan on celebrating Star Wars day. But you end up celebrating something else entirely.

Casey jerked awake as the Star Wars theme song blared to life around her.

“What the hell?!” she muttered, stretching and blinking to find you, Winnie, and Eli standing at the foot of the bed with lightsabers. Winnie had on a Darth Vader mask.

You grinned, giggling, and counted your siblings off. “Okay, guys, one… two… three… May the Fourth be with you!”

Casey groaned and tried to put on a good face for Eli and Winnie as she sat up. “Oh, wow. Happy… what are we celebrating?”

“The breakfast tray, young padawans,” you prompted, bowing slightly. Eli and Winnie grabbed either side of a tray and set it over Casey’s lap. Of course, she thought as she looked over the hash brown patty decorated as Chewbacca, with little bacon arms and legs. The avocado toast that somehow had the face of Yoda. Star Wars day. May the Fourth be with you. She shook her head. This is what she got for dating a huge nerd. Even the orange juice was in a little Star Wars glass that looked like it had come straight out of the ‘70s. For all she knew, it might have. Your dad was a huge nerd, too.

“Okay, guys,” you said, giving them a small salute. “You can go eat your breakfasts. Casey and I will come down in a little bit and we can start A New Hope.”

The kids cheered and thundered downstairs, leaving just you in your Han Solo t-shirt sitting at the edge of the bed. “Sorry to wake you,” you apologized, running a hand through her messy morning hair. “I put them off as long as I could.”

“I don’t know how your parents do this all the time.” Casey yawned, making a squished sandwich of the avocado toast, the hash brown and the bacon. She bit into and moaned. “God, it’s worth it for your breakfast, though.”

You smiled and leaned forward to kiss her on the forehead. You and Casey were watching your siblings, Winnie and Eli–who were both sixteen and both had Down syndrome–for two weeks, so your parents could go on vacation. They were great kids. You loved them with your whole heart. And you loved that Casey loved them, too. That she was willing to use her vacation time to help you take care of them.

“I think we’re gonna start with A New Hope,” you told her. “It’s the only one they’ve seen besides the kid shows, and the original trilogy’s the best anyway.”

“I’ve never seen Star Wars,” Casey mused, taking another bite of her mishmashed sandwich.

Your jaw dropped. “Casey, what!? None of them!?”

She shook her head, wiping crumbs off the corner of her mouth.

“How come I didn’t know this?! You never told me…”

Casey looked almost guilty as she shrugged. “I don’t really have any desire to see Star Wars…”

You gasped. “And this from the love of my life!?” You clutched your hands to your chest dramatically.

“Calm down,” she scoffed, ruffling your hair as she finished the breakfast sandwich and drained the juice, setting the tray aside so she could wrap her arms around you. “I love that you love Star Wars. I love it when you talk nerdy to me.” She placed a kiss on your neck.

“Oh, yeah?” You smirked, raising your eyebrows.

“Mmhm,” Casey confirmed, pressing her lips to yours. She tasted citrusy from the orange juice, and your brain momentarily blacked out.

You smiled into her, lips brushing against hers. “Did you know the Millennium Falcon is a YT-1300 Corellian light freighter?”

Casey kissed you again, placing both hands on the sides of your face to deepen it.

“And it made the Kessel Run in less than twelve parsecs?”

“You’re such a nerd,” she chuckled, pushing you back into the headboard and straddling your lap.

You moaned slightly, your hands slipping under her t-shirt, as she slid her tongue into your mouth.

“Hey!” a voice called, and you and Casey shot apart as if you were teenagers caught by your parents. It was Winnie, in all her 4’10” glory, standing arms crossed, Darth Vader mask on, in the doorway. “You two,” she ranted, pointing at you, “need to stop all this kissing. Get your butts downstairs. It’s May the Fourth Be with You! Not Kissing Be with You!”

“Get out of here, Winnie!” you yelled playfully, throwing a pillow out of her. “We’ll be down in a second.”

She crossed her arms. “You know you’re not allowed to have girlfriends or boyfriends upstairs. That’s what mom says to you and Chase.”

“I’m a full-grown adult, Winnie! I have a job! And an apartment!” you protested. “I can do whatever I want!” You launched yourself out of bed, flushed, straightening your clothes. “And Chase is married!”

Casey’s shoulders shook with laughter, her face red. You rolled your eyes, taking her hand in yours to pull her up from the bed. You followed Winnie downstairs, slapping Casey’s hand away as she squeezed your ass.

“The children, Casey!” you hissed. She smirked and kissed the side of your head.

You had more fun watching Star Wars that day than you’d had in a long time. But you loved watching Casey with your siblings more. It meant so much to you, so much more than you could ever say–and you’d said a lot–that she was so good with them, that she cared about them, even loved them. It made your heart soar when Eli asked for his daily smoothie and wanted Casey to make it, not you. It was a task reserved for whoever was his favorite at the time. You loved that these days, his favorite was Casey.

Even more exciting was getting to watch perhaps the only three people in the world who didn’t know Darth Vader was Luke’s father see the reveal.

“What!?” Casey yelled, into it despite herself, mostly because it was fun to be into something with the people around you. The kids screamed, throwing things around the room. You grinned all the way to your ears, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of Casey’s mouth. You just couldn’t help yourself. She slipped a sneaky hand underneath your shirt to caress your bare skin, making you shiver, and you shot her a look that said, “This is fine, but you’re pushing it.”

And at your favorite part–when Han Solo and Princess Leia are reunited once more at Jabba the Hutt’s lair–you cheesed and smiled and couldn’t help cooing and awwing. They were your favorite. They’d always been your favorite. When you were young, you’d convinced yourself that you had a crush on Han Solo, but really you’d wanted to be Han Solo. The crush, so obvious in hindsight, had been on Princess Leia.

“Ugh, she’s so pretty!” you squealed, and Casey smiled at you, pinching your dimpled cheek.

“Ooohhh,” Winnie teased. “You should be married with her.”

“What?!”

“You should be married with Princess Leia because you said you like her.”

You shrugged. “I mean, I do like her. She’s very pretty. But you know who’s prettier?” You leaned in toward Winnie and Eli, as if you were going to tell them a secret. “Casey.”

Winnie and Eli shrieked, scandalized.

You wrapped an arm around Casey’s waist, pulling her to you, and she giggled, blushing. You kissed her cheek. “Casey is the prettiest. I like her so, so much. I’m gonna be married with Casey.”

After the kids’ laughter had died down and they were distracted by the ewoks, Casey looked at you thoughtfully, running a hand through your hair. “Do you mean it?” she asked quietly.

“Mean what?”

She played with her fingers. “That you want to get married?”

Your heart melted a bit as you watched her. She was nervous to ask. And Casey was never nervous.

You cupped her face. “Of course I am! We talked about this at Chase’s wedding, didn’t we?”

“Yeah, but…” she avoided your eyes. “You didn’t bring it up again.”

“Oh, Case,” you breathed, rubbing her cheek. You laughed a little bit, and she looked at you as you pulled a small plastic bag out of the pocket of your basketball shorts. Casey gasped quietly as she realized what it was, as you held out the ring. “I was gonna make it more romantic, but...”

“Y/N,” she squealed, and planted a quick kiss on your lips, as quiet and chaste as she could manage, so as not to interrupt the kids–or prompt them to interrupt you.

You waited for her nod, then slipped the ring on her finger, smiling.

“How long have you had it,” she asked, whispering, as she turned it around and around.

You grinned at her. “I ordered it after you went to sleep the night of Chase’s wedding.”

“You didn’t,” she said, swatting your arm, sniffing aggressively and trying to avoid crying.

“I did.” And when she turned to you, you knew you’d never, ever get tired of her. Her face, her laugh, the way she kept you on your toes. You loved every single bit of her, so much it almost ached. You’d decided that very night, that very conversation at Chase's wedding reception, that If Casey wanted it, you’d do it. It would be your absolute privilege, your joy, your honor to marry her.

She kissed you a few more times, soft and quick, then leaned her body into yours, resting her head on your chest.

“We’ll celebrate more later,” she whispered, winking up at you and squeezing your hand.

“Hey,” you prompted when she turned her head back to the movie. She looked up at you, and you traced her eyebrows, her cheekbones, all the way down to her chin. “I love you.”

She grabbed your hand and kissed it. “I love you, too.” She smirked and giggled, then added. “Nerd.”

You rolled your eyes and smiled, happier than you’d ever been in your life.

#casey novak #casey novak x reader #casey novak x fem!reader #casey novak fanfic #casey novak fluff #law and order #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfic #svu fanfic

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sw5w · 1 year ago

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Entering the Naboo System

STAR WARS EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace 00:01:54

Route of the Radiant VII from Coruscant to Naboo.

Location of Naboo system within the Chommell sector and the Galaxy at large.

MOVIE: Episode I - The Phantom Menace TIME: 32 BBY LOCATIONS: Alui, Chommell sector, Colonies, Corellian Run, Core Worlds, Coruscant, Deep Core, Denon, Enarc, Enarc Run, Expansion Region, Hutt Space, Hydian Way, Inner Rim, Iskin sector, Karlinus, Mid Rim, Naboo, Naboo system, Outer Rim Territories, Pax, Quess sector, Unknown Regions, Vilonis sector, Vish sector, Western Reaches, Wild Space ORGANIZATIONS: Galactic Republic, Judicial Forces VEHICLES AND VESSELS: Consular-class cruiser, Radiant VII, Republic cruiser TECHNOLOGY: class 2 Longe Voltrans tri-arc CD-3.2 hyperdrive unit

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ak-vintage · 8 months ago

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Quarry - Chapter 16

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

Summary: Din Djarin is on what he expects to be his last bounty hunt for Greef Karga. After all, Nevarro is swiftly moving away from its previous reputation as a Guild member’s paradise, and Din has more important concerns now, like finding a Jedi to train his mysterious foundling. However, after capturing a wanted starship engineer who would rather go anywhere other than “home,” the Mandalorian is forced to reassess his priorities.

Your taste of freedom had been brief but glorious. Now you are a prisoner of the most infamous bounty hunter in the Outer Rim – it’s only a matter of time before he turns you in. There isn’t much you would not do to keep from being sent home, but as you find yourself growing closer to your captor and his strange little companion, you start to wonder whether escape is really what you want.

Set after Chapter 13: The Jedi but before Chapter 14: The Tragedy.

Chapter Tags & Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Reader is Mando's live-in starship engineer, dual POV, no use of Y/N, minimal descriptors of reader character, angst, Mandalorian culture lore dump, religious issues, Din speaks Mando'a, brief sexual fantasies (this one is mostly clean, y'all)

Series Masterlist | Read on AO3

“Is it just me, or has that port doubled in size since we were here last?”

The question came from your favorite copilot’s chair, breaking the pensive silence that had descended over the cockpit as Din maneuvered the Razor Crest through the Nevarran atmosphere. He glanced over his shoulder in acknowledgement only to see you staring out the viewport with a little frown gathering between your brows. Nestled snug and safe in your lap, Grogu offered him a toothy smile, which Din returned, unseen behind his helmet.

“Think you’re right. Karga’s been busy,” he replied, taking in the sprawling landing zones, the increased foot traffic, the dozen or so other ships docked below. “Is there anything you want to pick up while we’re here?”

After the disastrous hunt for the Weequay smuggler Kevok Teklolq, only one bounty from the selection Karga had assigned to him had remained. The three of you had taken an extra day on the shores of Maramere to recover – you and Din from your wounds obtained in the fight, Grogu from his overextension of the Force to heal your ruined shoulder. In that time, the bounty hunter had taken the liberty of recovering evidence of Teklolq’s death from the dense forest where he had been slain, namely by separating his scaly head from his body and wrapping it in a scrap of tarp you found for him in the ship’s storage. You had nearly retched when he returned with it slung over his shoulder only to tuck it safely into the chiller for preservation.

“Please tell me the next one is someone you can bring in alive,” you had begged, looking ashen, to which Din had offered you a gentle press of his forehead against yours and agreed.

Thankfully, the final bounty had been simple – a Corellian merchant accused of tax evasion who had surrendered almost immediately upon discovering who exactly was pursuing him. The hunt was nearly over before it began, leaving Din feeling a bit underwhelmed and questioning whether the effort had been worth it.

He had fucked you against the doors to his weapons cabinet after, needing an outlet for all of the pent-up energy of the hunt that now had nowhere to go. He didn’t think you minded. You had walked unsteadily for the rest of that afternoon, eyes bright and cheeks flushed, a secret smile on your lips whenever he looked your way.

Now, with all five tracking fobs dormant in his pocket, four carbonite slabs hanging on the cargo hold rack, and one severed head on ice, every excuse the Mandalorian could conjure that might have kept the three of you safe and insulated in the little bubble you had created in the depths of hyperspace had run dry.

It was time to hand over the quarries. And it was finally time to take Grogu to Tython.

From your perch in the copilot’s chair, you seemed to mull over his question, humming quietly to yourself. “No, I don’t think so,” you said, considering. “You know what I would like, though? A hot meal. Like, something cooked with fresh ingredients and then served immediately, not heated up in a ration pack.”

Din chuckled, the sound staticky and rasping through his vocal modulator. He couldn’t blame you. The Razor Crest’s supply of fresh food had run out almost two weeks ago, and all the best self-heating rations had been well picked over by all three of her passengers, leaving only the least appealing options and the ones that were intended to be eaten cold, only barely a step up from the dreaded nutrition bars you could hardly stomach.

“I think we can make that happen,” he agreed.

You offered him a relieved smile in thanks. “How long do you think we’ll stay?”

The bounty hunter cocked his helmet in a gesture reminiscent of a shrug. “It will be at least a week’s journey from here to Tython, and we’ll be traveling into the Deep Core, which means we won’t be able to stop to do a supply run. The further we go into the interior, the more attention the Razor Crest attracts.”

“Maybe we could stay a couple of days then? Get a room at an inn, stock up on food and medical supplies? I wouldn’t say no to a real bed for once, and it’s been ages since Grogu got to spend any time outside. Might be good for him, if we’re going to be in hyperspace for more than a week.”

Din smirked, glancing back at you. “A real bed, hmm?”

You grinned wryly, a flush burning high on your cheeks, eyes flashing teasingly. “Yeah, you know. For sleep.” You drew your plush lower lip between your teeth. “Really, really good sleep.”

A low noise, unbidden, rose in his chest, and he gritted his jaw against reply that wanted to spill forth, one that definitely was not suited to the innocent, bat-wing ears of the boy cradled in your lap. Settling for a…heavily censored version, he growled, “Trouble.”

Your grin widened, blooming into a delighted smile that crinkled the corners of your eyes, and the sight made the bounty hunter’s chest tighten with affection. “Oh, you live for trouble, Din Djarin,” you teased good-naturedly.

He thought you might be right.

---

As you entered the polished, echoing lobby of the Nevarro Municipal Center, your worn, brown satchel strung across your body and Grogu cheerfully strapped to your back, it felt impossible to keep yourself from comparing the experience to the last time you had entered these halls. Had it really only been a handful of weeks ago that Din had led you here, binder cuffs chafing your wrists, your jumpsuit ragged and stained, a pit in your stomach the size of a sarlacc’s den as you contemplated a future back on Chardaan? It felt as though a lifetime had passed since then.

You were an entirely different person now, both outside and in. Clean and well-fed, with a job that had given you more engaging and unique experiences than you had ever had confined to the sterile spheres of the shipyards, a life filled with purpose, satisfaction, and love.

Maker. Love.

It had completely consumed you. You were overflowing with it, your heart pressing, fighting against the barrier of your ribcage, threatening to spill out and overtake you in its joy. The boy peaking up over your shoulder from his perch in his carrier, cooing and babbling in your ear, pressing his warm little body to yours. The hulking man in beskar, bandolier straining across his broad chest, blaster at his hip, wide palm at the base of your spine, guiding you through the entryway with a touch far gentler than his intimidating appearance would imply. You loved them both, in a way that was both liberating and terrifying. But still, their soft, solid presence as you made your way across the marble floor toward the oversized reception desk eased your nerves at being back in this place. They made you calm and confident, and that, in turn, made the memories of arriving here a slave feel more distant, less heavy.

“Here to see Greef Karga,” Din snapped, interjecting before the familiar bronze protocol droid currently manning the reception desk could greet you.

The TC unit drew back in something like surprise at the bounty hunter’s gruff, informal tone. “My apologies, sir, but the High Magistrate’s calendar is fully booked for the balance of the afternoon.” Glancing down at the datapad mounted to the desk, it continued, “I would be happy to make you an appointment for the end of the week if you would like – ”

The droid cut itself off abruptly, looking back up at Din as though having a sudden realization. Its mechanical neck and shoulders whirred as it quickly scanned the bounty hunter from head to toe then did the same to you.

“Oh. It’s you.” If it were possible for a droid to sound contemptuous, this one did. You bit back a smile, pressing your lips together to hold back a snicker. Apparently the two of you had made an impression during your last visit.

“It’s me.”

You lost the battle with your laughter at Din’s utterly deadpan response. A choked giggle escaped your throat, echoing through the cavernous, marble-paved entryway, and with embarrassment flaring in your cheeks, you forced yourself to turn away for fear that more would follow.

Cool and posh as ever, the protocol droid continued, “I don’t imagine you are interested in making an appointment?”

“That’s right.”

The TC once more glanced from Din to you and then back again. “…One moment, sir.” Tapping through several layers of command menus on the desk’s datapad, you watched as it brought the built-in comm link crackling to life. “Pardon me, High Magistrate, if I may interrupt.”

A moment of silence passed, tense between the droid’s displeasure and Din’s complete impassiveness, and then Karga’s voice, deep and commanding and clearly aggravated, floated through the open channel. “What is it?”

“You have visitors here to see you, sir. That…rather insistent Mandalorian fellow and two companions.”

On the other end of the comm link, the older man’s attitude seemed to soften almost immediately. A booming chuckle made its way across the connection, and Karga readily replied, “Send them up, 48.”

You were certain that if it had been capable, the protocol droid would have sighed. “Yes, High Magistrate.” As the comm link fell silent, the TC unit redirected its attention back to the three of you. “Would you like an escort, sir?”

“That won’t be necessary. I remember the way.”

And without another word, Din steered you away from the reception desk and down the hall.

“Thank you!” you called over your shoulder, more laughter leaking its way into your voice as your bounty hunter swiftly and confidently swept you around the corner. Glancing up at his expressionless visor, you added, “Are you always that rude to droids?”

Din shrugged, one pauldron gleaming in the golden afternoon light that streamed through the tall windows lining the empty hallway. “Not all of them. Just the ones that get in my way. Which is most of them,” he confessed. “That one in particular is…pompous.”

You snorted and shook your head. “You’re not wrong.”

“What’s so funny?” You could feel his fingers slip from their rather neutral position against your lower back, wrapping around your waist and squeezing teasingly. You swore you could feel your heart stutter in your chest at the unexpected contact. Was Din being…playful? The long-suffering, stoic, beskar-clad warrior…flirting? Dank farrik, as if you could love him more.

“Nothing!” you insisted, the poorly concealed grin tugging at the corners of your lips belying your words. “You’re just cute when you’re grumpy.”

Din very pointedly did not dignify that assertion with a response.

A handful of turns and a brief flight of stairs later, and Karga’s glass-walled office appeared before you. You tried not to feel too disappointed when the bounty hunter’s hand dropped from its hold on the dip of your waist, though you thought you might have failed at that when you felt Grogu offer you a gentle, consolatory pat on the shoulder from his carrier. The gesture had your mouth curling up again almost immediately, and you reached behind you leave a fond scritch behind one of the little guy’s massive ears.

As you had come to expect, Greef Karga’s welcome was warm and enthusiastic when Din shouldered open the double doors. “Ah! Mando!” he exclaimed, rising from his seat in his oversized desk chair, thick arms wide as though to embrace you from afar. “Welcome back!”

The bounty hunter inclined his helmet at the magistrate and crossed the stretch of the office floor in a handful of long strides. “It’s good to be back,” he replied, more earnest than you had expected. Glancing down at one of the chairs settled across from Karga’s desk, you watched as he realized that his guild agent was not alone in the room. With a note of pleasant surprise, he added, “Marshal Dune.”

The chair spun around, allowing you to see its occupant for the first time, and you felt yourself hesitate in the doorway as a striking woman with jet-black hair, blue-painted pauldrons, and a tiny Rebellion tattoo on her cheek rose to her feet. Offering Din a half-smile, she clasped his forearm in greeting – like a fellow warrior. “It’s been too long. Always nice to see you in one piece,” she said, her voice low and warm. Her dark eyes met yours then, and she cocked her head in your direction. “New friend?” she asked with interest.

The Mandalorian seemed to hesitate for a moment before replying, “Relatively new.”

You took that as your cue to step forward. Closing the distance between you, you extended your hand for the woman to shake, offering her your name.

“Cara Dune,” she replied, the grip of her gloved hand firm and unwavering around yours. You noticed she had a strip of grooved armor molded to the backs of her knuckles, and a jolt of intimidation shot through you at the sight. This woman had brass knuckles built into her uniform – painted blue to match her pauldrons.

“We were in a bit of a hurry the last time we were in the area,” Din continued, oblivious to your unease. “Didn’t exactly have the chance to stop by and say hello.”

The woman – Marshal Dune – grinned wryly at that. “Of course. When aren’t you jetting off on some new quest?”

Karga chuckled low in his chest. “I assume you’re here on business, Mando?” he prompted.

At that, the bounty hunter reached into one of the many pockets of his utility belt and drew out an overflowing handful of dormant tracking fobs, laying them out in a jumbled pile on the magistrate’s desk. “The five remaining bounties – present and accounted for. Your crew is unloading them now.”

The older man quirked a pointed eyebrow at the sight. “All in carbonite this time, hm?” The marshal glanced, bemused, between Karga to the Mandalorian, clearly not understanding the implication, and you pressed your lips together to smother an embarrassed grin.

For his part, Din appeared nonplussed. “All but one,” he agreed readily.

“Mando…” Karga groaned, drawing the name out with something like exasperation.

“The fifth one is dead. I have proof of the kill. It’s on ice.”

Cara Dune snorted, crossing her bare, muscular arms over her chest. “Charming.”

Karga rolled his eyes but nodded anyway. “Very well.” Extending a hand toward Din, he beckoned him forward, encouraging him around to the other side of the desk. “Come, let’s get your compensation squared away, and you can tell me all about your plans now that you’ve run my supply of bounties dry.”

You thought the guild agent might have glanced at you with interest as he spoke, but you couldn’t swear to it.

“So,” Cara said pointedly, a single eyebrow raised.

Now, she definitely was looking at you.

“How did you meet our favorite tin can?” she asked with a smirk.

You opened your mouth to reply but then hesitated, uncertain of her reaction if you were to tell her the truth. Would it make her suspicious of you? Would it make her angry with Din? She was the marshal, after all. But the two seemed to be friends, and you recalled weeks ago, when you had been attempting to determine where you would go after he had freed you, that he had offered to put you in contact with the marshal on Nevarro – that she was a friend and that she would help you find a safe place to live. He wouldn’t have offered that if he didn’t trust her.

“I…was a quarry,” you admitted haltingly.

You realized then that you desperately wanted this woman, who Din clearly respected and saw as an equal, to like you, and you cursed the weakness in your voice, your hesitance.

Cara, however, seemed completely unbothered. “Damn,” she laughed. “He really is getting soft in his old age. Once with the kid, that was an anomaly. But twice? You must have really left an impression.”

You felt your cheeks warm at her ribbing tone, heavy with implication. Attempting to brush it off, you simply replied, “Mando is…kinder than he looks.”

At that, the other woman’s smile softened, becoming more genuine and less needling. “Oh, I know it. Chivalrous to a fault. He’s a tough nut to crack, but he’s a good man.” With a fond brusqueness, she reached out and chuffed Grogu on top of his downy head, eliciting a giggle from the boy. “He takes care of his people.”

Something in your chest warmed and softened, and you offered her a small, genuine smile in return. “Yeah, he does.”

“You two planning to stick around for a while?”

You nodded. “A couple days, I think. Mando’s promised me a hot meal before we start another stretch in hyperspace.” Grogu cooed in agreement, making the characteristic smacking noises with his mouth that you had come to understand indicated hunger.

“I hear that,” Cara scoffed with laughter. “Space food gets old pretty quick. You know, I’m about to clock out for the night. Why don’t I take you to Ninda’s? It’s a newer place, just opened a month or two ago, but they make the best smapp pot pies I’ve ever had in the Outer Rim, and it’s not overcrowded, so maybe the big guy will actually let his guard down for once and enjoy himself.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose – ”

She shook her head, waving away your protest. “Not at all. I’d appreciate the company. And you two can fill me in on what’s been going on outside Nevarro space.”

There was something almost longing about the way she said it, as though a part of her was mourning her tether to the planet, to her position. “Have you been here long?” you asked, intrigued.

“Almost two years now.” Leaning back on the desk behind her, she braced her palms against the edge of it, crossing one leg over the other casually. “It’s stable. Relatively safe. Karga’s a fair leader, and the work is good. But staying in one place this long… Guess I’m still getting used to it.”

You nodded your understanding, revealing, “I’m the opposite. I was only ever in one place my entire life. Until…very recently.”

“Which do you prefer? Now that you’ve done both,” she asked.

“Hm.” You propped your own hip against the desk, mulling it over. You had never really considered it before. You appreciated the worldliness that being a part of Din’s crew had gifted you. You enjoyed getting to experience other planets, other species, other cultures. Your day spent in the bazaar on Trevi IV forever would be one of your most treasured memories – the wonder and the joy of getting to immerse yourself in a new place was something that you would carry with you for the rest of your life.

But the more you thought about it, the more you realized that perhaps it wasn’t the new planets or the new cultures that you found most rewarding. Perhaps it was the fact that you had gotten to have those experiences side-by-side with Din.

“Truthfully,” you admitted, “I think I could be happy anywhere. As long as – ”

“As long as you’re with him?” Cara interjected, a smile on her face. “That’s what I thought.”

You looked away, suddenly deeply interested in the pattern of scuffs on the toe of your boot, the other woman’s immediate perception more than you could bear. “Is it that obvious?”

She shrugged. “Maybe not to everyone. But I know what it looks like when he’s found someone he wants to protect.”

Your eyes met hers again, and you felt an understanding settle between the two of you. Whatever it was she could discern of your relationship with Din from the outside, it was clear she approved of it, and your relief at that was almost tangible.

Before you could respond, however, the bounty hunter in question approached, tucking several weighty bags of credits into his belt as he did.

“Karga has offered to put us up for the night,” he said, brushing his leather-clad knuckles against your elbow as though to get your attention. You flushed at the casual touch, feeling Cara’s sharp gaze following his every move. “I’d like to go pick up the keys to the room, but then we can get dinner. What are you in the mood for, cyare?”

You felt yourself melt just that little bit more at the consideration, knowing that all of your softness for him was written all over your face as you replied, “Actually, Marshal Dune has offered to take us to…Nina’s?” You glanced over to her for confirmation.

“Ninda’s,” she corrected. Her grin was smug, her arms folded across her chest once again as she assessed the two of you.

“Ninda’s.”

The Mandalorian seemed to consider the offer for a moment before nodding once. “That’s very generous, Marshal. All right, if that’s what you want to do, we’ll go there.”

Grogu released a squeal of happiness directly into your ear at that moment, and you winced even as you joined the others in laughing in response. With any luck, this evening wouldn’t prove to be too awkward.

---

“Your girl’s a sweetheart.”

Din Djarin pulled his gaze from where it had naturally settled – watching you as you ambled along behind Grogu several yards from where he and Cara Dune still sat. Dinner at the cantina the marshal had recommended had been a pleasant affair (he was looking forward to enjoying his pot pie in the anonymity of their room at the inn later), but the kid had started to get restless as the adults at the table seemed perfectly content to continue catching up well into the evening. You had taken pity on him, in tune with his needs as you were, and had offered to take him out onto the open-air patio to explore. Din, of course, hadn’t been able to keep his eyes from following your every move from the moment you stood up from the table, and Dune had, of course, noticed.

Refocusing his attention, the bounty hunter took in the amused look flashing in her dark eyes. She leaned heavily against the back of her chair, her second mug of ale cupped casually in her hand as she assessed him.

“She is,” he agreed easily. It was completely unsurprising to him that Dune had taken a liking to you. You were easy to like – sweet, kind, shockingly intelligent. He had known that the two of you would get along. Running into Dune at Karga’s office had simply saved him a trip to the law enforcement office to introduce you.

“So how long has this been going on?”

Din weighed his words for a beat before responding. “It’s…new. Very new.”

It had only been a handful of days since Maramere, though already being with you felt as natural as breathing. He wasn’t certain whether that was because he had been carrying a torch for you for so many months, or if it was simply a testament to your compatibility, but either way, in just a few short days, you had managed to bind yourself irreversibly to his heart, like you had always been there.

As though she had been reading his mind, the marshal replied, “Hm. Could have fooled me. The way you two are together, it’s…easy. Doesn’t feel new.”

The bounty hunter grinned behind his helmet, certain the expression could be heard in his voice. “I know.”

“So is she it for you?” Dune nudged his shoulder with hers, knocking against his pauldron as she downed the rest of her ale. “Finally gonna settle down, take your kid and your girl, find a piece of land someplace and just…live?”

At that, the Mandalorian felt himself hesitate, and in that silent moment, he could see the possibilities stretched out before him as clearly as if he were standing there now. A little house at sunset, cast in warm, golden light, modest in size but more than enough for his clan of three. You on the front porch, reclined in a wicker chair, your hair loose and long around your shoulders, cheeks flushed from the sun. Grogu giggling on your lap.

His Mudhorn signet on a pendant around your neck. Your belly soft and round with his ad.

Din banished the vision as soon as it had appeared, shoving the acute sense of longing that squeezed his ribcage deep inside himself. “…I want to,” he rasped, his voice tight. “But I can’t. Not yet.”

The marshal arched a brow at that. “What’s stopping you?”

“I need to get Grogu to a Jedi.”

“Okay, sure.” She waved her empty mug dismissively, clearly unimpressed with the response. “So you find a Jedi, you take the kid to them, then what?”

Then what?

The bounty hunter had been asking himself that question endlessly over the last few days. It had been a question before, of course, but after what had transpired on the shores of Maramere, the consequences of that question had grown even heavier, even more complex. There was a time when he had assumed that once Grogu was no longer in the picture, you would leave the Razor Crest – that you would ask him to drop you off at some shipbuilding hub like Corellia or Eriadu, somewhere that you could put your considerable skillset to good use now that there wasn’t a tiny green toddler in need of a babysitter. Then, he had determined that he would simply go back to bounty hunting. Perhaps Karga would be kind enough to put him in touch with one of his colleagues at the Guild, someone in need of hunters of his caliber who might actually have a sufficient stream of work for him.

It would be a lonely existence, going from caring for two other beings to being on his own once more, and Din didn’t relish the thought, but he would survive. He had done so for years before Grogu came into his life; he could do it again.

Now, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that when Grogu was gone, you would remain. He knew you well enough to know that you would not willingly choose to be separated from him now, not after the things that you had confessed to him, bare and impossibly close in the cramped quarters of his bunk. And he certainly did not want you to leave.

But the warm bubble of newfound intimacy had burst the moment the Crest had landed on Nevarro, and as much as he cursed himself for it, he could not seem to quiet the doubts hovering ever-present at the back of his mind.

Eventually, he replied, “Then…I don’t know.”

Unfortunately, such an ambiguous answer was unacceptable to Cara Dune. Decisive, quick-to-action, fiery Cara Dune. Rolling her eyes at him, she sat up straighter in her chair, slamming her mug onto the table in a gesture that had several other cantina patrons glancing her way in concern. “Do you love her?” she demanded.

Din sighed, steeling himself for the unpleasant conversation now looming on the horizon. “Yes.”

“Then what’s the issue?”

“I’m not getting into this now,” he said stiffly, his jaw tight.

Dune groaned dramatically and leaned toward him. “Din. Look at me.”

The bounty hunter startled at the use of his name, and he obeyed on instinct, meeting her flinty eyes through his visor. Although she had learned his name during their run-in with Moff Gideon over a year ago, she had never used it before now, choosing to continue calling him “Mando.”

“Do you remember Sorgan?” she asked.

Din frowned, cocking his head in confusion. “Of course, I do.” The swamp planet where they had met. How could he forget? And what was she getting at?

“Do you remember Omera?”

Dank farrik. Omera.

The Mandalorian felt an uneasiness settle in the pit of his stomach at the mention of her name, and he fought the urge to stand up out of his seat right then and walk out the door. But before he could think of anything cutting to say in response, Dune plowed on.

“Omera cared for you, and you cared for her,” she said severely, maintaining unforgiving eye contact as she spoke. “And when you had to leave, when you had to take Grogu away to protect her village, it hurt you. I gave you a hard time about it then, but I saw how it affected you. You wanted that life. You wanted that safe, quiet, stable life with your little boy and someone who loved you. And you couldn’t have it then, but you could have it now.”

Maker, Din hated how right she was. It had been so long since they had spent any real time together; he had almost forgotten that charming quality of hers. Cara had always had a talent for cutting right to the heart of a situation, for breaking down barriers and seeing things as they were even when others attempted to brush them under the proverbial rug. This time, it had a wave of defensiveness rolling through him, setting his teeth on edge and sending a flash of heat up the back of his neck.

“What’s your point?” he spat, seething.

“My point is, that girl?” The ex-Shock Trooper jammed her thumb in your direction with a sharp gesture. Thankfully, you didn’t notice, as you were still fully occupied with Grogu, watching as he plucked weeds from between the flagstones on the patio and held them up for you to see. “That girl would follow you anywhere. To the end of the galaxy and back. So if you have any doubts, if you think that this isn’t going to work out, you need to tell her now. She doesn’t deserve to be strung along while you figure out what you want.”

The Mandalorian was shaking his head before she had even finished speaking. Hackles now officially raised, he said, “I’m not stringing her along. It’s not that, not…exactly.”

Dune inclined her head at him, spreading her hands wide in front of her as if to silently say, “Go on.”

Kriffing hells. She was going to make him say it. Thankful for the impassivity of his helmet, Din felt a flush rising in his cheeks as he admitted, “In my Tribe…there is no precedent for marrying outside of the culture.”

It sounded absurd now that he said it out loud, for so many reasons, not the least of which being that it was certifiably insane behavior to be thinking so seriously about marriage this early into…whatever your relationship was. You had only been together for a handful of days, all of them in the relative insulation of hyperspace. If you knew what he was thinking, if you knew the permanence of the way he saw your future together, you would be well within your rights to run as far away as you could manage.

Dune, however, seemed completely unperturbed by this revelation. Instead, she focused on another portion of his confession entirely. “Wait, seriously? No Mandalorian has ever married someone who isn’t Mandalorian before? That can’t be right.”

“In other Tribes, I’m sure they have. But my covert, my people, they follow the old Ways. If she were willing to convert, to take the Creed and become Mandalorian herself, no one would protest it.”

The marshal quirked an eyebrow. “And if she didn’t?”

“I don’t know.” Din looked down at the table in front of him, studying the grain of the wood, the glistening, wet rings left behind by the abandoned mugs of ale. “Like I said, there’s no precedent for it. I would need to seek the guidance of the naur’alor.”

“The armorer? The one we ran into down in the sewers after your covert was sacked?”

He nodded once. “Yes. I have no idea where she is now.”

“Well, you’ve got to be the most skilled bounty hunter in the Outer Rim at this point,” Dune said wryly. “Sounds like if anyone could track her down, it would be you.” The Mandalorian shrugged at that, not agreeing exactly but not protesting the assertion, either. “Well. I’ll leave it alone for now. But can I offer you a piece of advice, from one warrior to another?”

Letting out a long sigh, he finally met her gaze once again. “If I say no, will you do it anyway?”

“Probably.”

“Then go ahead.”

Din watched as her hard face softened somewhat, warmed in the long shadows of the setting Nevarran sun streaming through the open archway onto the patio. “People like you and me, we don’t often get to experience the…soft parts of life. The good parts. All we ever get to see is the pain. The blood and the cruelty. The never-ending fight to survive.” Pensive, she ran the tips of her fingers over the blue armored brass knuckles molded across the backs of her gloves. “If this girl can give you peace, I think you need to do whatever you have to do to hang onto that. I hope your armorer gives you her blessing, I really do. But if she doesn’t…” She shrugged. “Maybe it’s time to think about what life would look like if you decided you didn’t give a shit about what anyone else says. You said it yourself. There’s more than one way to be Mandalorian.”

He swallowed thickly, the rush of fondness he felt for her friendship diluted somewhat by the sheer panic such an idea induced. Go against the naur’alor? Defy the Creed? His voice was gruff with emotion as he admitted, “I…don’t know any other way.”

“Maybe not. But you could learn.”

Releasing a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, Din looked away, casting about desperately for a new topic of conversation, anything to direct that discerning gaze away from him and all of the uncharacteristic vulnerability she had managed to pull from the depths of him this evening. Eventually, after a moment or two of charged silence, he settled on spinning the tables back on her.

“What about you?” he asked. “Have you found those…soft parts, here on Nevarro? That peace?”

The marshal scoffed good-naturedly, seemingly willing to allow the redirection. Leaning back in her chair, she crossed her arms over her chest with a grin. “Still searching, I’m afraid. Now that you mention it, though, I do have one more question for you.”

“Hm?”

“That girl of yours, she have a sister?”

A startled laugh burst from Din’s chest, crackling and warping through his vocoder. Out on the patio, you glanced over your shoulder at the sound, sending both him and Cara a blinding smile. Fuck. Honestly, he could understand the sentiment. You really were stunning.

---

Grogu only lasted another half an hour wandering around outside Ninda’s Cantina before he began whining to be picked up and held. Wide, dark eyes bleary in the setting sun, Din watched as you expertly nestled the boy against your breast, murmuring softly to him as you ran your fingertips over his downy white hair. Pillowing his little head against you, he looked ready to pass out at any moment.

The bounty hunter took that as his cue to take his leave of Marshal Dune for the evening in favor of escorting you back to the inn for the night. Karga had used his political privileges to get the three of you a room at the most popular establishment in town. Din had, of course, offered to pay for the room himself, but Karga refused to have any of it. He could still feel the flush that had crept up under his cowl at the waggling eyebrows the older man had given him when he revealed that the room boasted a massive, single bed.

He hoped the revelation wouldn’t make you uncomfortable, but given that you had been sleeping spooned against him in the too-small quarters of his bunk for the last several days anyway, he assumed you would be in favor of the arrangement.

As he held the door open for you and bid you to enter first, his assumption proved correct almost immediately.

“Din!” you exclaimed, your enthusiasm hushed so as not to disturb the snoozing child in your arms. You took in the room with round, almost starstruck eyes – the polished, dark wood floor, the lush area rugs, the eclectic, tasteful art on the walls, and the truly giant bed that surely would have taken up half of the cargo hold on the Razor Crest piled high with thick down comforters and more fluffy pillows than he could count. Soft, incandescent orbs hovered near the ceiling in the center of the room, casting the entire space in warm light, and in the middle of a plush seating area, a basket of fruit and a glass pitcher of some kind of beverage, dripping with condensation, had been left on a low coffee table.

“This is so nice! Have you been here before?”

Din shook his head. “No, never.”

“I hope we didn’t put Karga out too much staying here for a couple days.”

Removing his satchel, he dropped it into one of the overstuffed armchairs then reached for yours to do the same. “Don’t worry about him. Karga might be the richest man in the parsec these days. He can afford a two-day room fee.”

You drew your lower lip between your teeth. “I suppose you’re right.” Wandering into the attached refresher, you flicked on the light only to gasp delightedly, “Din! They have a bathtub!” You peaked your head around the doorframe then, a wicked smile on your face. “It’s big enough for two.”

The image of you luxuriating in an oversized tub, your long hair piled on top of your head, only your shoulders and kneecaps visible above the bubbles flashed through his mind then. Settling in behind you, cradling you back against his chest, the soft globes of your ass cupping the length of his cock as he played with your soapy tits. Running fervid kisses down the length of your neck, gripping your waist, pulling open your thighs, seeking the heat between your legs with his fingers as you moaned into his ear –

Kriffing hells. He needed to get ahold of himself. The two of you were not alone. Grogu was still very much in the room, and although he was dozing now, Din could not count on that lasting long enough to do everything he knew he would want to do to you in that tub. Or in that massive, glorious bed. For a brief moment, the Mandalorian cursed the lack of privacy.

But then, dropping his gaze from your teasing grin, he took in the image of the child he had cared for for so long, his wrinkly little face serene in your arms, so tiny and helpless and yet also not. Grogu possessed powers Din could never comprehend, could never hope to foster. And Maker forbid that those powers grow into something that Grogu couldn’t control. The bounty hunter would be severely ill-equipped to intervene in that eventuality. Finding a Jedi to help him, to train him and protect him, was the best he could offer given the circumstances; he knew it to be true, to the core of his being.

So why did it feel like preparing to sever a part of himself, to contemplate letting him go?

Realizing you were waiting on a response, Din offered you a wan smile behind his helmet, hoping you could sense it in his voice. “Tempting, cyar’ika. Very tempting.”

You, however, were too perceptive for your own good. Eyebrows drawing together in concern, you observed, “You’re thinking about Tython.”

The Mandalorian sighed, hesitating for only a moment before nodding once. “Yes.”

“We don’t have to take him, you know. We could just…keep him.”

He wished you wouldn’t say that. He knew you meant well, that you were simply trying to cheer him up, but you knew as well as he did why this was the only way forward. To imply that he had another choice was less than helpful. “You know I can’t do that,” he retorted, impatience and annoyance filtering into his voice.

You blinked back at him, eyes wide as it dawned on you that perhaps now wasn’t the time to make light of the situation. Offering him an apologetic smile, you exited the ‘fresher and came to stand next to him at the foot of the bed. “I know. I’m sorry.”

The three of you stood in silence for a moment, the only sound the distant hum of the Nevarran nightlife on the street outside waking with the oncoming dusk. Stomach sour, Din took one of your hands in his in the quiet, running the leathery pad of his thumb across the ridge of your knuckles. He shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. You brought his hand to your mouth and dropped a kiss to the back of his glove. All is forgiven, it seemed to say.

“Well, if we’ve only got two more nights,” you began, “let’s make the most of it, shall we?”

The bounty hunter felt his eyebrows raise, and he met your gaze with his. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

A secret smile quirked the corners of your lips, and then you were passing Grogu off to him, slipping his empty carrier off your body, and toeing off your boots.

“Don’t you worry about a thing,” you said. “Why don’t you get comfy while I get everything set up?”

“Get…comfy?”

Waving toward the bed, which took up the majority of the room, you chuckled to yourself. “Yes! Take off your armor and get in the bed. Take Grogu with you. Now, where is the holoprojector in here?”

As Din kicked off his boots and began removing his beskar piece by piece, he watched as you scanned the room, looking along the floor, the ceiling, and even in the dark wooden wardrobe along the far wall. Eventually, you uncovered a control panel tucked discretely into a piece of decor designed to look like a bookend and made a triumphant noise.

“Ah, there it is!” A few experimental button presses later, and a small holoprojector dropped down from the ceiling, just a few feet from the end of the bed. “Now, let’s see what they’ve got in their database…” You thumbed through the welcome screen, pulling up an interface with seemingly countless holovid options organized by planet of origin, genre, and original broadcast language. You scanned through a few but didn’t seem to see anything that caught your eye immediately. Clearly overwhelmed by the available choices, eventually you asked, “Do you have any favorite holovids from when you were a kid?”

By this time, the bounty hunter, clad in only his flight suit and his helmet, had settled himself in the bed, propped up against the thickly upholstered headboard with a mound of pillows behind his back. In his lap, Grogu had begun to stir, and he watched you work with interest, his ears quirked up, eyes wide.

“I don’t think so…” Din trailed off, considering. In the Fighting Corps on Concordia, holovids were rare commodities, traded between the older children on encrypted datapads in exchange for better duty shifts or coveted snacks from the cafeteria. The commanders had believed that such forms of entertainment were frivolous and unnecessary, and in what little leisure time their foundlings were granted, they had been encouraged to spend time reading cultural and military histories, or at the very least Mandalorian folklore. And before Concordia… Well. His memories of his birth parents were few and far between. When he thought of them, all he could see was the day the Separatists attacked.

Except…

“Wait.”

You looked up at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue.

“Knights of the Old Republic.” The name left his lips before it had even fully formed in his memory. “I remember watching Knights of the Old Republic. With my parents on Aq Vetina.”

And he did remember it. Soft linen pajamas, a woolen blanket, his body warm with the soft presence of his mother on his right, his father on his left. The faint blue tinge of the holoprojector in their living room, blaster fire and lightsabers flashing across the viewer. He had been so small then, no more than 7 or 8 years old.

He hadn’t thought about that in…decades.

Your expression softened at his response, a fond smile on your lips. “I’ve heard of that. It’s an old, animated serial, right?”

Din flushed and brought up a hand to scratch the back of his neck. “Not old. But maybe…before your time.”

“Of course,” you soothed, smirking. Refocusing on the control panel before you, you continued, “Well, it looks like we’re in luck. They have all eight seasons in their database. Do you have a preference where we start?”

“Start at the beginning.”

You nodded once and selected the pilot episode, tagged with an original air date of nearly 40 years ago, and the holoprojector flared to life in the space a few feet from the bottom of the bed. Dimming the lights, you quickly stripped off your deep blue boilersuit and crawled in bed next to him, settling yourself against the extravagant pillows in nothing but your breast band and a pair of matching black undershorts. Grogu cooed at you happily, reaching out a tiny, three-clawed hand to fondle a lock of hair that had fallen from your braid.

And so, the three of you spent the evening huddled up in bed together as episode after episode of Knights of the Old Republic streamed in the background, and if Din blinked back a few tears as he watched you slowly nod off next to him, Grogu nestled between his body and yours, he supposed he could be forgiven for that. This was his family, his aliit, his clan of three, and no matter what happened on Tython, no one could take that from him.

---

If you're following along, you know where this is headed. Brace yourselves for a collision with canon events. Also, the KOTOR reference was a little treat for my husband, who proofreads every chapter for me before I post. I hope it brought my fellow gamers some joy. :)

Translations:

ad - child (son or daughter) naur’alor - smith, craftsman, specifically a metalsmith that works with beskar. It's a title that's called out in the Kyr'tsad Mando'ad, a manifesto of the Death Watch and is later recognized in the book The Bounty Hunter's Code by Boba Fett. Given the Children of the Watch's connection to Death Watch, this felt like an appropriate formal title for the Armorer. aliit - clan, identity, family

#din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal characters fanfiction

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arcsimper5 · 1 year ago

Text

Flutter

Hunter x F!Reader fic!

I'd like to dedicate this one to the amazing @amorfista

You are amazing! <3

Title: Flutter Pairing: Hunter x F!Reader Rating: M (suggestive language, swearing) Warnings: Pregnancy, angst, mild panic, sickness, vomiting 7202 words

Summary: You've suspected your sickness every morning might be related to something more than you first assumed. When Tech confirms your suspicions, you have you find a way to tell Hunter...

A/N: This is a pregnancy reveal fic at it's core, established relationship between Hunter and F!Reader. Non descriptive reader, pet names in mando'a.

“You are pregnant.”

Tech’s simple statement caught you off guard as you exited the fresher, eyes widening at the goggled pilot. His attention was still firmly on his datapad, fingers dancing over the screen, expression set into one of concentration.

The words had been said without malice, without any emotion, really. Just a fact that he had decided to share, one that made your breath catch in your throat.

“W-What? Tech, I…”

Stumbling over your words, you looked cautiously towards Hunter’s bunk, your lover still thankfully asleep with his earpieces in, relaxed and even more gorgeous in sleep.

“You have not experienced a menstrual cycle in two standard months, you are experiencing vomiting each morning aligned with morning sickness and our store of corellian greembark slices has rapidly depleted despite your apparent distaste for them,” he explained quickly, eyes darting up to meet yours for a brief moment before returning to his data, scrolling through it.

Blinking slowly as you took in the information, you felt your stomach churn uncomfortably.

You’d been suspecting for a while, the tightness of your breastband one of the first giveaways, along with the almost constantly tingling in your nipples. When the cravings began and you found yourself sneaking out into the kitchen area to grab the barely touched jar of greembark, wincing as you bit into them and chewed the rough surface but unable to stop yourself from going back for more, you were almost convinced.

This assessment from Tech, along with the positive test you’d just used in the fresher, now discarded and wrapped in at least 6 layers of paper before being put into the trash, was the final piece of the puzzle.

“You’re… you’re right,” you sighed shakily, your throat beginning to constrict a little. The familiar pressure of tears forming in your eyes caused your breath to hitch, Tech’s expression changing to one of uncertainty as he looked back up at you, taken aback by your response. “You’re right, Tech, and… I’m so… I’m terrified,” you admitted, a tear escaping to roll down your cheek.

And you were terrified.

How could you not be?

You were on a modified attack shuttle barely big enough for the five of you, hurtling through hyperspace, on the run from the Empire who wanted nothing more than to capture Omega and kill the rest of you. It wasn’t exactly the best situation to bring a baby into.

“A normal emotional response, caused by hormone fluctuations and situational stress,” Tech shrugged, stepping back to allow you to pass towards the cockpit. “Are you going to tell Hunter when he wakes?”

Cold panic flooded your system, catching yourself on the doorway as you went to brush past Tech, your feet catching on the floor. Reaching out to steady yourself, Tech noticed the shaking of your limbs, the pure, unadulterated terror in your expression, and paused, his gaze firmly fixed on you.

He could read all of the signs of the impending panic attack, the reaction in your pupils, the slight pursing of your lips as you struggled to draw in breath, the drain of colour from your skin.

“Ad’ika, your physical state could harm the child if prolonged,” he protested against the behaviour, unable to understand what had caused such a reaction. Was it the discovery of your pregnancy? It had seemed so obvious to him for around a week now, he was unsure how the others hadn’t noticed. “I suggest you sit down. I will wake Hunter, and…”

“No!” you gasped suddenly, voice trembling, “Please, Tech…”

Reaching out, you grabbed onto his forearm, not missing the look of discomfort that flashed across his features but desperate to convince him. “You can’t tell him, you… I need time, to decide what I… If I…”

Trailing off, the lump in your throat grew more and more, tears streaming down your face now.

This decision was literally life-changing.

On one hand, the idea of having a child with Hunter, one the two of you had come together to make, was something that made your heart swell. He would be a wonderful father, you knew. You’d seen him with Omega and thought about it for some time now.

But on the other hand… If you were ever caught or killed, what would the Empire delight in doing to the child of an enhanced clone?

They would be tortured, experimented on, dissected…

The mere thought had bile climbing up your throat for the second time that morning. Pressing a hand over your lips, you released your grip on Tech and sprinted back into the fresher, barely making it in time to empty what little remained of your stomach contents into the bowl.

Kneeling in front of it, sobs began to rack your body, limbs trembling. The burning of your throat and awful taste of bile on your tongue made you feel worse, your back and chest aching from the second bout of violent vomiting.

It was all too much. The revelation, the thoughts about your future, the idea Tech might tell Hunter… He had a right to know, but…

“Not now,” you pleaded through your sobs, eyes creased shut against the world, your body going limp over the fresher as you cried, “not… I need time, I… please…”

The hand that found your back was firm, comforting and definitely not Tech’s, you realised as calloused skin slipped under your sleep shirt, deft fingers tracing soothing circles over your back.

“It’s okay, cyar’ika,” Hunter’s smooth, low voice rumbled over you, comfort and anxiety both flooding you in equal amounts. Unable to meet his gaze, you simply collapsed against him, sobbing against his firm, bare chest. Strong arms held you tightly as he lowered you to the floor, his other hand moving to cord through your sweat soaked hair, “Tech, you got any hydration packets?”

A murmur came from outside, unintelligible to you as Hunter cooed more words of comfort into your ear, careful as he picked you up and held you tight against him, carrying you out of the fresher and towards the bunk room.

“It’ll pass, mesh’la,” Hunter reassured you as he laid you in his bunk, sitting on the edge and taking a hydration pack from Tech, releasing the straw and putting it to your lips. A strong arm still held your shoulders, urging you to sit while he watched you take tentative sips, eyes bleary and unfocused, “Everything’s okay.”

“S’not though,” you managed after a moment, your breath hitching. Hunter noticed your gaze darting around the bunk, focusing on everything except him, his chest clenching a little. Were you still having nightmares? He could smell the fear on you, overriding everything else, hear the pounding of your heart, sense the tenseness of your muscles.

“It will be,” he reassured you gently, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, sighing in contentment as your scent flooded him once more. “I promise you. I will never let anything happen to us, okay? You’re safe. We’re safe. Together, always.”

“Together, always,” you murmured automatically, lips turning up into a tiny smile. It had been your promise to each other, first made after your initial fumble together in the bunks after months of yearning turned into a relationship.

Leaving Kamino with your squad had never been a question, even if it had meant a blaster shot to the shoulder and a bounty out for your arrest.

None of it mattered. All that mattered was their safety. Omega’s presence had been odd, yet not unwelcome, and now you struggled to remember a time when she wasn’t with you, even war time memories hazed with her.

She was her brothers in every way and more; strong, principled, stubborn and brave, everything a soldier should be, and yet she still carried a childish innocence to her that betrayed her true nature. It was equal parts inspiring and heartbreaking, and she had clung to you like a life raft, clutching you at night and crying out her fears, listing off her dreams and plans for adventure, a piece of your heart shifting to accommodate her as a mixture of sister and daughter.

It was what had pushed Hunter over the edge, in the end. After Salucemi, after his conversation with Omega, you’d been furious he could have even considered leaving her behind, and even moreso that he didn’t discuss it with the rest of you.

What began as an argument turned into a bruising kiss inside your semi-private quarters in the medical bay, your hands pinned by his above your head as lips too soft to be real danced across your skin, lower and lower until you came together like puzzle pieces.

Belonging. It was the only way you could describe it. Hunter was like home, warm, safe and comforting. Familiar.

There were no regrets, just an immediate shift into a relationship which, by all rights, had been there before anything physical. He’d held you close in the morning, kissing you as you woke and making you a promise.

“No matter what, we stay together.”

You’d nodded, smiling brightly before kissing him once more, lost in the elation of your new bond.

“Always.”

Even now, curled up in his bunk as he stroked your hair and calmed you, the memories were as fresh as the day you made them.

You would never have guessed that a mere standard cycle later, you would be here, with Echo, your best friend and confidant back on Coruscant with Rex and the flutterings of life beginning to form inside you. What you wouldn’t give to have Echo here now. He always seemed to know the answer, to know what to do.

The pain of his departure hit anew, more tears slipping down your cheeks as Hunter passed the hydration pack back to Tech and crawled into his bunk alongside you, wrapping himself around you in a protective cocoon.

“It’s okay, cyare,” he breathed, littering kisses into your hair, hands smoothing over your sides, offering as much physical comfort as he could. “Whatever is wrong, we’ll get through it.”

The panic in your chest subsided slightly; at least he didn’t know, for now. Tech had not told him, it seemed, something you would have to thank him for later, in private, and your physical tells hadn’t become prevalent enough.

Nodding against him, you tried to relax, finding solace in his presence, allowing yourself to doze in his arms, even as other voices began to dance through the air around the ship, life returning from the sleep cycle.

“Rest,” Hunter murmured, lips grazing your forehead as he spoke. “We’ll be back at Ord Mantell in a few hours. I’ll wake you when we land.”

With your energy all but depleted, you could only hum in agreement, pressing your nose into the crook of Hunter’s neck as your eyes fluttered shut, security and warmth permeating your very bones. It wasn’t long before sleep overwhelmed you, drifting into a deep slumber against your lover’s chest.

*-*-*-*

Biting your lip, you waited impatiently, staring at the spinning circle on the holo comm, the droning ring seeming to go on forever.

You knew Echo was busy, that his main comm was off, and that using the emergency channel was not the best idea, but you needed to talk to him.

It had been two days since Tech had found you outside the fresher, his expressions whenever he regarded you a mix of curiosity and confusion. He was wondering why you hadn’t told Hunter, you knew, but he had been respectful enough not to tell him, your thanks portrayed in a nod towards him when you’d finally stumbled from Hunter’s bunk almost 9 hours after going to sleep.

The morning sickness had continued, but Hunter and the others were still assuming it was some kind of stomach bug, Wrecker making jokes about staying away from you while Omega gave you her doll, insisting cuddling it would make you feel better.

Even the small gesture had almost brought you to tears, concern written all over the young girl’s face before you’d drawn her into a hug, reassuring her you were okay, that you appreciated her thoughtfulness and you were simply run down.

But the time was ticking, and you knew it.

Before long, you’d not be able to hide the fluttering heartbeat forming within your belly, Hunter’s enhanced senses would make it impossible to hide. You didn’t want to hide it from him, but the uncertainty, the fear still clouding your mind was delaying your decision.

The moment the others had gone on their usual run to Cid’s to hand over their latest acquisition, you’d grabbed your comm and dialled Echo, needing to hear his voice, to tell him, to talk it out with him.

Part of you felt foolish and selfish to boot; he was working with Rex, helping brothers and deep in the heart of the enemy. Risking answering his comm opened up a whole realm of danger for him. Hesitating, you almost cut the call, images of him being captured and tortured flashing through your mind, fresh tears pricking at your eyes.

This was stupid. He shouldn’t have to deal with your issues, be your confidant. He had his own path to follow, and you couldn’t get in the way.

Hovering your finger over the disconnect, you almost pressed it when a familiar figure appeared before you, Echo’s almost omnipresent frown and pursed lips making your heart leap as he rolled his eyes, sighing deeply.

“Havoc, you’d better have a good reason for… Mesh’la?”

His features immediately softened when he registered your face, lips tilting into a momentary smile before fading once more, expression turning concerned as he noticed the fear in yours.

“What’s wrong?”

Those two words were the last crack in the dam of your emotions, tears spilling down your cheeks as you began to sob openly, wishing nothing more than to be next to Echo, to hug him and cry against him.

“E-Echo,” you managed between sobs, chest heaving, “I… I’m sorry, I… I didn’t mean to… I… I just needed to… I needed you, I…”

“Woah, woah, slow down,” Echo cooed softly, his image shifting and flickering a little as he moved, eyes dancing with confusion, “first things first, is everyone okay?”

His words caught you off guard a little, head bobbing in an almost violent nod. You suddenly realised how dire you must have made this look, calling him in tears, sobbing and apologising. Yet more guilt flooded your system; he must have assumed something terrible had happened.

“T-They’re fine,” you hiccuped, more tears escaping even as you drew a shuddering breath, trying to calm yourself, “I… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to w-worry you, I…”

“Ad’ika,” he chuckled softly, drawing your gaze back to his holo, “it’s okay. I’m glad everyone is safe. Just… the emergency line… what’s happened that you had to call me so bad? Hunter finally lost it?”

His laughter and the smile of his face lifted some of the weight from your heart, the knowledge he wasn’t angry settling some of your anxiety. Now, a new fear overtook you, your lip worried between your teeth once more as you tried to push the words out, saying it aloud somehow making it more real.

“I… I needed to… I’m sorry, Echo, I just… I needed to talk to you, I… It’s so stupid, I… I shouldn’t,” you rambled, sucking in a deep breath as Echo’s expression faltered slightly, confusion obvious. “I… I need to… Stars, I just… I’m… I’m pregnant. Echo, I… I’m pregnant, and I… I don’t know what to do, and I’m scared, and… I’m sorry.”

Echo’s face did a number of things as he registered your words, starting with his eyes widening to the size of dinner plates. His lips shifted into a tight line as he seemed to process the information, jaw clenching and unclenching. His expression seemed to cycle through shocked, angry, and sad, finally settled on elated as he laughed, lips turned into a radiant smile, making him look years younger in an instant.

“Vod’ika,” he began, voice catching in his throat, “you… you’re… you’re a buir, you’re… Force, mesh’la, this is wonderful!” he exclaimed, his delight pure and obvious.

It was enough to bring a smile to your lips for the first time since your conversation with Tech, soft laughter leaving you as well.

“Well, congratulations!” Echo offered, looking like he wished he could crawl through the comm and hug you, body shifting around with pent up energy, “Have you told him yet?”

The lump in your throat returned with a vengeance. Not trusting your words, you simply shook your head, eyes stinging once more.

“Ah. And that’s where being scared comes into it?” Echo guessed, tone gentler now. You nodded, his face slipping into a sympathetic smile. “Talk to me, ad’ika,” he pressed gently, eyes wide and open, waiting patiently while you found your voice once again.

“I… I just keep thinking,” you began, sniffing and clearing your throat, trying to keep your emotions from getting the better of you, “about what might happen if… if we ever get… if I ever get caught. The Empire, if they found out the child had a clone father… an enhanced clone father… they would…”

You trailed off, Echo’s expression darkening. Of all people, he was the one you had least explain about your fears of torture, dissection and betrayal to. He’d lived it, after all.

A moment of silence followed, Echo’s mind working in a way you could almost see.

“Is this what you want?” he asked finally, the question, again, catching you off guard.

“I… I don’t know,” you admitted, your chest tightening. “I’m just so scared, I keep having visions of being caught, of the Empire taking my child, and I… I couldn’t… Hunter wouldn’t cope, I wouldn’t cope, and I…”

“But is this what you want, ad’ika?” Echo repeated, his eyes earnest. “A child with Hunter, a child full stop… if there was no war, if there was no Empire… would you still want this?”

Almost without hesitation, you nodded, warmth spreading through your chest.

“I love him,” you admitted softly, swallowing hard, “and… I know he’ll be an amazing father. I just…”

“Mesh’la,” Echo sighed heavily, a fond look on his face that was underwritten by a deep sadness, one you’d seen many times before, usually when he spoke about his lost brothers, “that fear… it’s justified, don’t get me wrong, but…”

He paused for a moment, as if choosing his words carefully.

“I’ve lost vode who wanted nothing more than to have a family,” he admitted after a moment, “ones who would have been amazing fathers. Heck, before Skako, I… I thought about it, about what it would be like to have a daughter, to be able to teach her Mando’a, to tell her all about her uncles…”

Tears gathered in his eyes as he spoke, his throat bobbing as he composed himself.

“You’re going to be an amazing buir, if you choose this,” he breathed, forcing a smile to his lips, “but this is your choice. You’re right, it would be dangerous, and if the Empire caught wind, the target on us, on you and Hunter, it would only get bigger. But… vod’ika… your wants, your needs, your happiness should wait for no-one and nothing. This war, this fight, it won’t last forever. All of us, we all need to grasp whatever threads of happiness we can, weave them into something worth fighting for when the days get tough. It’s the only way we’ll ever survive.”

By the time he finished, tears were trailing down Echo’s cheeks as well, the urge to reach out and touch him too much to bear.

Lifting your hand up to the holo, you let out a choked sob as he did the same, his ghostly hand next to yours. It wasn’t enough, but it was something.

“Stars, I miss you,” you sobbed, the words caught somewhere between a laugh and a cry. “I wanted to tell you first, to talk to you. You always know what to say, Echo. I miss you so much. We all do.”

“I miss you all too,” Echo croaked back without missing a beat, “you know how long it took me to get used to sleeping without Wrecker’s snores? Never thought I’d miss that…”

A laugh erupted from your lips before you could catch it, Echo’s face breaking out into a wide grin, chuckling along with you as the tension finally broke.

“I’ll trade you,” you offered with a wink, Echo pondering it overdramatically.

“I mean… the base here smells like sweaty ballsacs and metal. At least you can get fresh air when you land. Here it’s just… feet.”

It was so good to see him, to hear his voice, the conversation flowing easily as he updated you in their latest missions, how their small army was growing by the day.

Your catch up was cut short when the door to the medbay slipped open, both you and Echo’s holographic form turning to look at the intruder.

It only took a moment for Omega’s mouth to drop open, her eyes widening in delight.

“Echo!” she practically screeched, pushing through the door, an armful of snacks and some medical supplies dropped onto the table in seconds before she was cuddling up to you, her eyes wet with tears of happiness, “I’m so happy to see you!”

“Aw, ‘Mega,” Echo smiled softly, regarding her with a gentle, fond look, “it’s good to see you too. Hope Tech isn’t pushing you too hard on your studies.”

“I am merely pushing her as much as she requires me to,” came a short reply, Tech peering into the room, eyes darting between Echo’s holographic form and your own, tear stained face. “It is good to see you, Echo. I trust Coruscant is keeping you busy.”

“As always, Tech,” Echo nodded in response, another voice booming from the other side, Wrecker’s excited voice calling out.

“Is that Echo?”

“Now look what you’ve done,” the older clone teased, winking at Omega as she giggled. Moments later, Wrecker burst through the door, elbowing Tech out of the way and yelling his greeting at Echo, who rolled his eyes, silently glad he was not there in person, knowing that Wrecker would, no doubt, squeeze the life out of him in one of him signature bear hugs the moment they were reunited.

You shared one last small smile with Echo before slinking from the room, leaving him to catch up with his brother and sister, not missing the way Tech’s eyes lingered on you as you slipped past the door, surprised to see Hunter had not arrived back with them.

“He is gathering the last few items, and requested we go on ahead,” Tech explained without missing a beat, relief flooding through you. Nodding in thanks, you could practically feel the question bubbling beneath the engineer’s calm surface, the sparkle in his eyes betraying his easy demeanour.

“I’m going to tell him,” you whispered, casting a look behind you to check that Omega and Wrecker were still engrossed in their catch up with Echo, your lips turning up into a soft smile, “tomorrow. When we go for our break day.”

Tech merely nodded, tapping something into his datapad before turning to observe his siblings in the medbay, seemingly satisfied.

Feeling lighter than you had in days, you moved silently through the ship, leaning in the open rampway, simply existing in the moment. Fresh, cool air washed over you from outside, the setting sun bathing you in the last of its light. Closing your eyes, you inhaled deeply, sighing in contentment.

Your talk with Echo had done exactly what you knew it would, settling your nerves and clearing your mind. You were more grateful for him than you could ever express, making a mental note to put together a care package for him as soon as you could. Maker knew all the boys on Coruscant could do with a pick me up.

“Credit for your thoughts?”

Hunter’s low rumble never failed to make your stomach flutter pleasantly, eyes blinking open to find him at the bottom of the ramp, a hessian sack thrown over his shoulder. He was beaming up at you, deep tan skin glistening in the sunlight, caramel eyes flicking up and down your body.

“Just enjoying the moment,” you grinned back at him, his body relaxing at your reply.

“You’re looking much better,” he noted, carefully placing the bag onto the ramp before ascending quickly, one of his large hands moving to cup your face. You giggled softly as he tilted your face up to meet his, brushing his lips over yours.

“I have to say,” he purred, dragging his lips across your cheek, towards your ear, the simple motion sent a shiver through your entire body, your reaction to him always full of desire. “I don’t know what’s changed, mesh’la,” he breathed into your ear, sending more waves of want radiating through you, “but you smell divine.”

“H-Hunter,” you gasped as his lips found your neck, littering kisses over the sensitive skin. One of your hands came up to grasp his shoulder, arousal coursing through you. “The others…”

“Tomorrow,” he breathed against your skin, pulling back just enough that every word sent puffs of air tickling across your neck, “when we land, I’m taking you out into the woods, we’re going to camp, alone, and I’m going to ruin you.”

An unbidden moan escaped your lips, body trembling against his. It had been a good week since you’d spent time together intimately, your core aching for him.

“P-Please,” you managed, the word little more than a desperate gasp.

“Patience, cyar’ika,” he chuckled lowly, licking a stripe up your neck, “good things come to those who wait.”

His emphasis on the word ‘come’ had you giggling as he pulled away, pressing another gentle kiss to your lips as he drew back, eyes darting over your face, drinking in your features, noting your lust blown eyes.

“Kriff, you’re gorgeous,” he smiled dreamily, about to go back in for another kiss when the approach of quick footsteps had him stepping back, eyes fixed on the door as Omega came barrelling out, her smile wide and earnest.

“Hunter! I spoke to Echo!” she announced, Hunter’s smile slipping for a moment.

“You did?” he asked quickly, looking between the girl and you, not missing the flicker of guilt that passed over your expression. “Why did he call? Is everything okay? Does he…”

“He’s fine,” you reassured him quickly, squeezing his arm, offering comfort, “he was just checking in. They’ve picked up some more of the boys. They’ve got wind of Cody as well, and they’re following that lead.”

Hunter regarded you with a pensive look for a moment, stare so intense you almost felt like he was looking through you. Swallowing hard, you forced a smile to your lips, heart clenching before he hummed, seemingly satisfied with the explanation.

“That’s good, then,” he nodded finally. “Getting Cody on board would be a big step. He was one of the best strategists we ever worked with.”

Omega’s eyes lit up at that, her attention squarely on Hunter now.

“Really? Will you tell me about some of your missions with him?” she practically squealed with excitement, Hunter chuckling as he ruffled her hair.

“Sure, kid. Why don’t you grab the last bag, put it in my bunk and I’ll tell you all about it when we’re in hyperspace.”

She was moving practically before he’d finished speaking, giggling with excitement as she grabbed the bag and ran back into the ship.

You watched her pass with a soft smile on your lips, Hunter’s gaze still fixed on you.

“What’s in the bag?” you asked him after she’d disappeared inside, heart fluttering nervously as Hunter crossed his arms over his chest, giving you an odd look.

“How about I tell you when you tell me the real reason Echo called?”

Your stomach plummeted, eyes widening. Of course Hunter would know you were withholding something, his eyes soft but discerning as he watched your reaction. He must have sensed your fear, his posture relaxing a little, arms dropping to his sides.

“I…” you began, tears gathering in your eyes again.

“Cyare,” Hunter cut you off with a sigh, pulling you back into an embrace. “I trust you, implicitly, and I’m never going to be angry with you. I just… tell me. When you’re ready, okay?”

Blinking back tears, you nodded against him, forever grateful for his understanding.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” you snuffled against him, Hunter letting out a soft rumble of laughter.

“I’m okay, I guess,” he shrugged, earning him a playful hit on the chest as you gazed up at him, lost in the deep caramel of his eyes for a moment. His expression was soft and adoring, heat blooming into your chest.

“I love you,” you breathed, the hitch in Hunter’s breath bringing another smile to your lips.

“Love you too,” he murmured, leaning down to capture your lips in another chaste kiss, hands finding your hips and drawing your bodies closer together, “more than I could tell you.”

“You could always show me,” you teased, stomach twisting with desire as he growled into your mouth, deepening the kiss. You could have got lost in the moment, were it not for Tech appearing in the doorway of the Marauder, his nose buried in his datapad. He looked up only for a brief moment, rolling his eyes at the sight of you and Hunter stood nose to nose, a huff of frustration leaving him as he tapped furiously on his screen, the only other outward sign of his annoyance.

“We are ready to depart, if you are both finished with your very public displays of affection for each other,” he stated plainly, Hunter giving a toothy grin as his brother headed for the cockpit, leaning his forehead against yours.

“Back into the fray,” he sighed, one hand threading through your hair, holding the intimate position for a moment more. You allowed him to do so, sighing in contentment as you simply existed in the moment with him, happiness coursing through your veins.

“Until tomorrow,” you reminded him softly, his breath hitching again, “then you can have me all to yourself for a while.”

“Never long enough,” he grumbled good naturedly, slipping his free hand into yours as he pulled away, leading you back into the ship. “Come on. We should get inside before Tech starts lecturing us.”

With a giggle, you followed him easily, barely inside when the ramp of the ship began ascending. Making your way towards the medbay for take-off, Hunter clutched at your hand still, Wrecker wolf-whistling while Omega fake gagged at the sight, sharing a giggling fit with Wrecker while Hunter simply huffed at their behaviour, his soft smile still firmly in place.

“Alright, Tech,” he called back to the cockpit, the engineer firing up the engines, ready for take-off. “Time to get some R and R.”

“Oh yeah!” Wrecker shouted excitedly from beside you, high fiving Omega. Soon enough, you were hurtling out of atmo, Tech making the textbook jump to hyperspace with ease.

You were on your way. And the thought both terrified and exhilarated you.

Tomorrow, Hunter would know, and your lives would change, one way or another.

*-*-*

Hunter made good on his promise almost the moment you landed.

While you’d slept on the journey, he’d packed a tent up, along with the thickest bedrolls he could find. Also stuffed into the satchel he carried were blankets, canteens of water and enough supplies to keep you going for the day you intended to spend away, his comm tucked tightly into his belt.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his mothering of the others, contingency plans, schedules and timetables repeated over and over until even Tech was urging him to leave, insisting everything would be fine for a few hours.

Omega grumbled at first, disappointed she wasn’t allowed along on the trip until Wrecker reminded her that you and Hunter would probably be kissing, the thought enough to make her fake wretch and agree to more target training with her brothers, determined to show Echo improvement when she saw him next.

With a final wave goodbye, you and Hunter headed out into the woods, your lover leading you easily through the beautiful sunlit surroundings.

The planet you’d chosen was sparsely populated, a warm climate and soft, soothing breeze kissing your skin pleasantly. It felt wonderful, freeing. And with Hunter by your side, your hands laced together while you walked slowly under the orange and green painted canopy, sunbeams filtering through, it was perfect.

“We won’t go too far,” he promised quietly, “just far enough that we’re guaranteed some privacy. Tech spotted a good area, a little clearing by a lake as we came in to land. Said the nearest settlement was about thirty clicks away.”

You hummed happily, nodding as you allowed yourself to simply enjoy the peace and quiet the planet afforded you, your stomach quivering with excitement and nerves.

Ideas on exactly how to tell Hunter the big news were swirling through your mind, each more elaborate than the last. What would be the best way? Would he be happy at the news? Surprised? Angry?

Your heart clenched at the last thought, feet stumbling as a breath caught in your throat.

You knew Hunter would never hurt you, but the idea you might lose this, lose what you had together, sent a sudden icy chill down your spine.

Hunter stopped immediately, sensing the change in you.

“Cyare? What’s wrong?” he prompted gently, raising a hand to cord through your hair. Your eyes must have betrayed your fear, as even when you forced a smile, he regarded you with a unbeliving stare.

“I’m fine, just… tripped,” you murmured, Hunter letting out a low sigh.

“Mesh’la,” he frowned, eyes never leaving your face, “you’re…”

He hesitated, choosing his words carefully.

“You’ve been… different, this past week or so. I… I feel like something is wrong, but you’re not telling me what it is. I thought… I thought you trusted me enough to…”

The hurt in his voice made nausea rise up your throat, lungs stuttering as you drew in a sharp breath.

“I do, Hunter, I… I trust you, with my life, I just…”

Taking your hesitation as confirmation, your lover dropped his grip on your hand, sighing deeply.

“It’s okay, mesh’la,” he reassured you weakly, forcing a smile as he readjusted the bags on his shoulder, trying to keep his expression neutral, “I… I understand.”

“No, you don’t!”

You didn’t mean to shout, but the idea of hurting Hunter, the idea he thought you were having doubt was almost too much to bear. Spinning to look at your in surprise, his eyes wide, Hunter was staring at you, taken aback by your outburst.

“You don’t understand, Hunter! I’m trying to… I wanted to wait, to find the words to tell you that I… oh, Maker…”

The words caught in your throat, eyes watering as Hunter’s expression morphed into one of hurt and uncertainty, reading something else in your voice.

“If you want to stop this, I… I’ll respect that, but I… I just… I need to know why, cyare,” Hunter croaked, dropping the bags and blankets to the floor, arms hanging limply. “I… I should have seen this coming… the wanting to spend time apart, sneaking off to talk to Echo… I… I’m sorry. I promise, I… I won’t make this awkward, I…”

“No! Hunter, gods, no!”

You were openly sobbing now, tears streaming down your face.

“That’s not… not ever what I want! How could you… why do you think that? Is that…”

Your stomach churned uncomfortably.

“Is that what you want? You were waiting for me to break up with you? Are you… do you not want me any more?”

It was Hunter’s turn to let out a broken sob, his face crumpling.

“Fuck no, cyare,” he breathed, falling to his knees. It was like his world was crumbling around him, his resolve broken. For weeks, he’d been looking forward to this time alone, to be with his love, just you and him. How had it all fallen to pieces so quickly?

Reaching into his back pouch, he grabbed a cloth wrapped item, blinking away fresh tears as he desperately tore into it, hands shaking.

“This… this is my answer,” he managed, voice cracking with emotion as he threw the cloth to the side, revealing a small box in his palms. Cracked open, something was glinting inside. Your body froze, unable to process the scene for a moment. “This is why I wanted you out here,” Hunter continued, shuffling forward on his knees, not caring how small or pathetic he might look in that moment. His eyes were locked on you, desperation coursing through every fibre of his being.

“Hunter,” you breathed, trying to catch up.

“I know, it means nothing, not really,” he admitted, voice far too small, “that it’s not legally binding, that the rest of the galaxy won’t care, but… fuck, cyar’ika, I need you, forever. I want you, I… I want to marry you. Even if it’s just for show. I want you to be my wife. By my side, forever. No matter what… we stay together…”

His voice trailed off, eyes falling to the floor as he waited for your reaction. You were still frozen to the stop, too shocked to process his words until you heard the familiar cadence of what had become your call to each other.

“Always,” you choked automatically, the pure, unadulterated hope in Hunter’s eyes as he looked up at you, registering your reply making your heart skip a beat. “Together. Always.”

Finally finding your feet, you stepped forward tentatively, towards Hunter where he still kneeled on the forest floor, a blanket of orange and yellow leaves beneath him, streams of sunlight dancing across his profile. He watched your approach silently, lips slightly parted, sucking in deep breaths.

He was far too still, as if the slightest movement might scare you away, hands held out still, presenting the box to you. Bending ever so slightly, you saw a delicate silver band resting within the wooden rest, a single red gem sparkling on the top.

“Riddur,” you murmured, remembering Echo’s lessons, how he’d laughed as you and Hunter had exchanged a look and blushed, months before you even touched each other.

Hunter’s breath hitched, the smallest sob escaping his lips as you closed your hands around his, moving them up to your chest. He was confused for a moment, staring up at you with reddened eyes, waiting for your next move.

“Riddur,” you breathed again, closing your eyes as you leant down, pressing a kiss into his hair, “… and… and buir…”

Hunter did gasp this time, eyes widening more than you had ever seen them before. With his face mere inches from your stomach, he moved his hands down from your chest quickly, wrapping them around your waist. Turning his head to the side, he pressed his ear against your stomach, swallowing thickly as he listened closely.

Your heartbeat, strong, familiar, steady, was now accompanied by a fluttering sound, much faster, much smaller, but there nonetheless, alive, growing.

“Cyare,” Hunter choked, sobbing into your stomach as he held you close, his grip on your hips only getting stronger, “ad’ika… a baby, our… our baby…”

“Yes,” you nodded, openly crying again now, tears tinged with a happiness you had long forgotten, “I… I didn’t know how to tell you, I… I was so scared, Hunter, I… I want to be happy, but… I’m scared…”

You let out another sob as he clutched you tighter, pressing a kiss to your stomach, his face nuzzling into you.

“With the Empire following us, I kept thinking, what would happen if they caught us, if they took… took our child. I… I’m terrified, I…”

Hunter scrambled to his feet, arms dragging you into him. With his chin resting on your head, he soothed you, tears still rolling down his cheeks.

“I will never let anything happen to you,” he growled, “either of you. My aliit, my loves… We’ll protect you. All of us. Stars… I love you, cyare. Riddur…”

You don’t know how long you spent in each others arms, simply holding each other, sharing tears and love, the emotions flowing between you as easy as the kisses you shared, but when your legs began to tremble, Hunter gave a soft chuckle, pulling away and looking down on you with eyes still rimmed with tears.

His expression was pure adoration, your heart fluttering in your chest as he pressed one last kiss to you lips, chaste and sweet, one hand running over your stomach tenderly while the other bought the box in his hand back up between you, deft fingers finding the ring inside and offering it to you.

Raising your hand without hesitation, he gave you a sappy grin, slipping it onto your ring finger with ease.

“Riddur,” he mumbled, sweeping his lips over yours once more as he pocketed the box, leaving his hand free to tangle in your hair, holding you even closer.

“Riddur,” you repeated back to him, your hearts beating in sync for a moment, caught in a perfect moment in time.

“I love you,” he breathed against your skin, closing his eyes and simply breathing in your scent for a moment, “and now… I get the change. Your scent, it’s… different. It’s been driving me insane.”

His admission came with a small smirk, familiar heat flowing through your body.

“Guess I’ll have to get a rundown on how all of this works from Tech,” he murmured thoughtfully, raising an eyebrow when you chuckled.

“Well, when a mummy and a daddy love each other very much,” you began, giggling when he wrapped his arms around you and tickled your ribs, forcing you to stop as you bent double, peals of laughter ringing around the trees.

“Don’t be mean,” he laughed along with you, eyes dancing with delight as he finally let you go, a sigh escaping him while his eyes roamed your body. “I just want to know… if it’s safe to… you know… while you’re…”

“Perfectly safe,” you reassured him, tracing your fingers across his cheek, “as long as I don’t get squished or lay on my stomach when I get big.”

“You think I’m going to squish you?” Hunter teased, beaming at the flush lighting up your cheeks. “Come on, mesh’la, I know I’ve been eating more, but you don’t have to say I’m gonna squish you.”

“Dikut,” you retorted, letting out a shriek of delight when Hunter stepped towards you, turning on your heel and running towards the lake. Picking up the bags behind him, Hunter followed quickly, his cheeks hurting from smiling so much.

For the first time in a long time, he felt complete, sated.

Everything was falling into place.

*-*-*

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