#I’ve never had boba before so rip

[saradika]

— WASTELAND, BABY

viii. you’ll gaze unafraid, as they sob from the city roofs

[masterlist] | [part vii]

boba fett x f!reader

rated E - 5k

tags: fallout au, post-apocalyptic, canon-typical themes (violence & death), angst, feelings, miscommunication, mentions of birth control, outdoor/semi-public sex, PiV, fingering, creampie, use of weapons

a/n: if you missed my poll, I realized that I liked sen’ika (little bird) more as a nickname instead of little one/ad’ika. I’ve made some edits and will be using it moving forward!

So funny how life in the Wasteland can bleed from bliss to terror in a matter of days.

"Come on."

You're unable to help the swoop in your stomach of excitement when you hear his voice.

Interrupting your concentration as you work on the rusting, sky-blue box of the radio tower. Working the thick switch up and down, waiting for a green light that doesn't appear.

You've been trying not to look too eager, in the days that have passed since that night. Trying not to follow Boba Fett around like a lost puppy.

Stick to the work that needs done. Plenty of crops to plant in the newly-tilled field. Your back still twinges from two days ago, when you had spent half of it bent over, pushing tato seeds into the dirt.

Thinking it would be a good way to focus your energy, but the mindlessness of the activity only led your own to wander. Like it had, for days now.

Remembering the feel of his lips. The way he touched you - a gentle sweep of his thumb before he was pulling you to meet him. The drag of his cock, how he knew just what to do to make you come.

It was distracting, to be certain.

The storm that blew through yesterday should have been a respite. A relief in the much-need nourishment for the fields, all those acres of dirt and dust.

An afternoon spent huddled beneath hanging, blinking bulbs. Engrossing yourself in the stories and small talk to keep your eyes and mind from wandering and wondering.

Wishing for a hand to curl around a wrist - pull you into a dark corner. Never happening, with how small the quarters were, how thin the walls were with the town crowded into the cantina, the shop next door.

Your thoughts come back into focus with the heavy click as you move the switch to the "off" position. Wiping your hands on your pants as you turn fully around. To where he's standing.

"We need to check the perimeter after the storm, make sure the fences are sound." He says, by way of greeting. "Think it would be a good experience for you to accompany me."

A twinge of disappointment twists with curiosity. A quick nod as you pack up your things, a furtive moment of trying to tidy your clothes before you're walking beside him, out towards the edge of town.

Those silent seconds make you wonder what his intentions are. A hope that his thoughts align with yours, an excuse to sneak away.

But the sun hangs high overhead - the afternoon breezy. A perfect one for work, and so again - you're left feeling lost.

The buildings shrink as you walk, following down that dirt path. Past the acres of fields, the occasional stop as Boba checks on the work, offers advice. Each word received with their full attention - something you notice with a small, tender smile.

Trying to keep back, to wait - but you're pulled in with the occasional "what do you think?" or "wouldn't you say so?". That attention is mirrored, when you finally find your tongue.

A warmth settles over you that has little to do with the sun. Wrapping around you as the fence line comes into view. Where he stops, gloved fingers checking the fence ties. A little bag of clipped wires passed your way, as he shows you how to fix the ones ripped loose from the wind.

The little spark of hope in your stomach fades, as you realize you're actually there to do work. Wondering if you did something wrong. If that night had been a one-time thing, and you had misunderstood.

Worried that just maybe… he wished he hadn’t.

Such a thought threatens to stagger you, but you still try to make the most of the afternoon as you work your way down the line. You’d gotten good at compartmentalizing - saving your thoughts until you were alone.

Taking the moments as they come - no excuses needed to be made as your eyes trace the sharp curves of his helmet, when he's explaining something.

Or when you need to step closer - both sets of hands needed to wrangle the thick branch off the top, where the metal dips under the weight.

Time ticking by, until you're further out than you've been. The path opposite than the wooded one that winds around the river.

Here, it's scattered trees and broken roads. The ground littered with thick brush - the curve of hills and a mountain lining the horizon. An inorganic splash of a long-abandoned gas station marring the view.

A pair of old, rusting cars rest against the fence here. Faded shades of red and stained yellow under the years of sun and rain and snow.

Your fingers tap on the broken headlights, the spider-web cracks across the thick lens. A lean of your hip as you peer into the interior through the windshield, but it's already been stripped bare.

Boba is watching, when you turn back. Close enough where you can see the chips in his painted armor, the small dent in his helmet. The twist of a torso as he’s turned half-way from you - facing back towards the road to town.

Or, at least, you think he is - his expression and words shrouded by the mask. Both a defense and an offense. Protecting him, while enhancing his sight. All the better to keep an eye out for anything or anyone approaching.

A necessity, but you can't help but miss the feeling of his eyes on yours. You wonder if you'd be able to read him better, even with the serious tilt of his eyebrows, the grit of his jaw.

The lingering of a moment, and you begin to step away - to move around the car, to check the fence there.

His voice halts you, the low buzz of it through his helmet.

“I can see you thinking, sen’ika.” He tells you, and you can’t help the small smile at that, “I wish to know what’s been on your mind.”

You try to find his eyes behind the visor, as a heat licks up your spine, to burn in your cheeks. What haven’t you thought about?

Replaying those moments spent together in a slow loop. The brush of his lips on your shoulder and that small bit of softness, when he could have been all hard edges.

After a moment, you swallow - finding your thoughts and your voice, “I’d like to know the same, of you. And I suppose… I am wondering what we’re doing out here.”

His helmet tilts as he hums. So broad in his armor as he turns fully your way, and you think his gaze is fixed on you, now.

Arms cross over his chest, as he picks at part of your answer, “Is that all?”

You both know it isn’t. He must be teasing, because surely he must know how he’s become a fixture in your mind.

“No,” Your head shakes, as he moves closer. Hands bracing against the curved edge of the hood for balance, as he crowds your space, “I… I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that night.”

His thighs almost brush yours, and you find yourself pushing yourself up, until you’re sitting. Knees spreading as he fills the space, the sun glinting off his visor as his head tips towards yours.

“And what about that night has been on your mind?” Boba’s voice is a low rasp through the helmet, thrilling you.

Hand bracing on the hood on either side on your hips. Leaning further into your space as your thighs shift wider, making room for him.

“Oh,” you breathe, trying to think. Finding it hard to do so, now. “Um, you.”

He laughs - a short, rough buzz of a sound.

“Be more specific, princess.”

You shift, hopeful and eager and nervous under his gaze - all the feelings swirling together, “I‘ve thinking about how good you felt.”

“A shared sentiment.” Boba’s fingers shift, touching down on your hips, tracing feather-light patterns on your thighs, “Anything else?”

There’s the shift of his feet, leaving smallest gap between you. It would be easy to close it, with a roll of your hips, and you wonder if he’s waiting for you to do so.

A moment of wonder, as you realize that there may be more that overlaps between you than you thought. The distance of those last few days merely the beginning of learning a dance that neither of you know.

So you close that gap. First with your words. The flicker of confidence bolstered by his - the way he curves over you, the movement intimate and pointed.

“Plenty more.” Your teeth press into your lower lip as you smile, “I was hoping you’d come find me again.”

“Did you, now?” He husks, just as you shift. A roll of his hips as he meets you, as you lean back onto your elbows.

Rocking him against your core, your knees pressing against into his hips, leaving your feet to dangle. Fully seated on the hood now, the metal sun-warmed against your back, through the thin layer of your shirt.

His hands curve against your waist, the slight pull as he starts a slow grind. Pleasure sparking through you with the pinch of his grip, how it’s soothed when he’s pressed flush against you.

“Mhmm.” You sigh - the words coming easier now, with the reciprocation of touch, “But I was worried you regretted it.”

There’s a sound like a growl, a sharp rut of his hips. Holding you against the place where his flightsuit has begun to tent, a hand bracing near your ribs as he leans over you.

“The only thing I regret, princess, is waiting so long.” He husks, as you blink up at him, “If we were back in Mos Espa, I’d take my time.”

You feel yourself clench around nothing, a little buck of your hips as a soft moan escapes your lips.

“You came so quickly on my tongue. I’d like to see how many I could pull from you.” He sighs, a little tug to your hip to pull you closer, “That’s what’s been on my mind.”

There’s a little shiver, in spite of the heat. Your brains going blank except for the thought of him - the imagined grandeur of his space in Mos Espa. The prospect of hours spent in his company, alone and stripped bare.

In another time you might have been embarrassed by his words, if not for the tinge of pride in his voice. You’d been sated, exhausted, last time. The promise of more had you eager, squirming.

“Please.” You manage, the sound a soft gasp in the miles of deserted landscape.

The hand on your hip curves beneath your thigh - running down. Past your knee as he hoists your leg up, until your boot rests on the curve of the fender.

Fingers plucking at the laces, working it off one foot before he starts on the other. Methodic in his movements, while you’re grasping at your belt. The clink of metal as you pull it open, the pop of a button as your hips lift - pushing the fabric down.

Your layers pool at his feet, a hand pushing up the edge of his helmet so he can tear the gloves off with his teeth. Bare hands trace up your thighs after, a fingertip tracing over your mound as he gives the hem of your shirt a tug.

“This too. It was too dark to see you, last time.”

The shirt is tugged off, stuffed beneath your shoulders. Your bra lost somewhere on the hood, as he finally gets you bare - the sun warming your skin.

“Will I get to see you?” You ask, as his fingers split - tracing down either side of your slit.

One of them nudging at you, splitting you then - a rough groan when he meet slick flesh.

“Another time.” He grits out, and you think you understand.

Boba can keep you safe, his helmet sending an alert from anyone approaching. If he were to be as bare as you, that guarantee would disappear.

Any disappointment disappears as two thick fingers sink into you. Stretching you open as you cry out - you hand rising to muffle the sound.

They fill you, the slightest flex you can feel, before he’s slowly beginning to pump them. That pressure transforming as he learns from this new angle how to crook them, until he can feel you clenching around him like before.

Leaving your own hands to wander. Letting you tug and pull at his layers until you find the buttons and zippers. Letting your fingers brush hot, swollen flesh as you lean up on a elbow to draw him out.

The flex of his hips seating him against the curve of your thigh, his cock heavy where it rests against you, arcing towards your stomach.

His head is tipped down, and from this angle you can just get a glimpse of the reflection of his fingers pumping into you. How they shine when he pulls them back, only to sink deep, stroke against that spot.

It has you aching - that eagerness spreading through you again. Fingers tracing over his cock until you’re wrapped around him. The squeeze of your fist as he rocks into your touch, his breath heavy through his helmet.

You’re sure he wants to make you come on his fingers, but you’ve been waiting for four days.

It has you nudging at him again, angling his cock to slide against the swollen bud of your clit, before letting it bump up against his fingers.

“Is there something you want, sen’ika?” You can hear the amusement in his voice, just as he his fingers drag against you.

The groan of his name is your answer, a needy jerk of your hips as he eases from you, the same hand wrapping around his cock.

A catching of the hand that rests on the hood of the car. Dragging it to the place on your hip that now matches his - his fingers denting soft flesh, feeling the implant beneath.

Fennec had all but crowed when you had stumbled home the next morning. Leaving you with a puzzle to put together - a reference to your first day that you hadn’t understood, something about how she should have known he was lying.

A poorly suppressed smile and a roll of eyes. Your worry that she disapproved mending as she let you crush her fingers in yours at the clinic the following day. But not before she reminded you what she had told you.

That is why you had tried to protect your heart. Your meager line of defense cracking at his touch now, with the growl in his throat as the pad of his thumb presses down again.

“You want me to fuck you properly, is that it?” Boba rasps, with a stroke of his cock, “Fill you, like I had wanted?”

There would be murmurs after - a check that you really had wanted to do this. An assurance you didn’t need to, but in this moment there are few thoughts in either of your heads.

“Yes,” You breath, with a slow drag of your eyes - lifting from his hand to his helmet, “Please-”

The sound of your words still hang in the air as his cock passes over your slick skin. Tapping against your clit before dropping, a shift of his hips as the presses against your opening.

A rough, drawn-out “fuck” as he sinks an inch into your warmth, and then another. Your thighs squeezing his hips as his helmet tips down, to watch you take him.

So different from this angle, this time. Even as covered as he is, you can see the rise of his barrel chest with his breath. The bare patch of skin where his suit opens - dark curls at the base as he splits you open.

Hands hook under your knees, hoisting your thighs up to wrap around his waist. Spreading you open - your heels pressing against him, urging him deeper.

Your hand claps against your mouth, when he buries himself. The ragged sound of your moan muffled - the end breaking free as he lets go of a thigh to pull at your wrist.

Dragging you fingers down between your thighs, hand mapping yours until your fingers are pressing against your clit.

“None of that,” It’s a command, as his hand hoisting your leg up again, so he can grind himself deeper. “I want you to give me everything.”

You realize that is why he’s brought you so far out here. Doing the work that needed to be done along the way out of necessity, but the intent has always been there.

He wanted to hear every sound. See every movement you hadn’t been able to make, pinned against the table like you had been.

You both begin to move at the same time. The piston of his hips matching the circle of your fingers. A shallow drag of his cock as he pulls back, the sweet pleasure when he thrusts deep again.

There’s a freedom in the seclusion. In knowing that you’re safe here - the chance of being stumbled upon unlikely.

That knot loosening in your chest, the threads of propriety from an age long ago starting to fray. Close to snapping with the miles of armor - the slick-sounding snap of his hips as you take him, again and again.

A lewdness in the way you’re bared under the sun, him with so many layers. It’s a near-manifestation of all your late-night dreaming. Better than any of them, with the low rumble of his groans, the way his cock fills you so perfectly.

It has you letting your moans loose, as your head tips back against the hood. Leaning into the winding press of your fingers, your thighs inching further apart so he can drive deeper.

A shallow rock of your hips, as you move to meet him. A winding, building pressure in your belly - stoked by the memories of last time, the known pleasure of your own touch.

“Just look at you,” He groans, the grip on your legs tightening. Pushing a thigh back towards your chest, opening you up further, “Fucking perfect, you know that?”

His praise steals your breath, an accelerant to your pleasure. A whimper as his fingers sweep against your skin, your own hand wandering - cupping a breast. Tugging at a nipple, as the other works between your thighs.

The sight has him groaning - a sharp grunt accentuating the sharp punch of his cock.

Last time, he had held out. The low light an aid as he made you come on his tongue, before fucking you with his cock. His thoughts swirling since then, days of desire mounting in his mind, a foreplay that has a the pressure building, threatening to break.

“Where do you want it, princess?” Boba’s voice is rough, as if he’s barely holding himself back, “You still want me to fill that pretty cunt of yours?”

You’re so close you can taste it. The circle of your fingers speeding up, three pressing down against your clit as you moan.

Nodding, as you beg, “Yes. Yes, in me-”

The words petering out to soft sounds - the catching of your breath and whining whimpers with each breath. His thrusts speeding up to match yours, as you careen towards the edge.

“Come for me, and I will.” The encouragement shoots through you, straight down to that throbbing point between your thighs, “I can feel how close you are, want to feel you again.”

You can hear his words, but they slowly turn to static. A chain-reaction that starts at the tips of your fingers, swooping low in your belly to radiate outwards. Your orgasm crashing over you - Boba’s groan a rough, low thing as you pulse around him, his name pitched high on your lips.

A sharp grin, hidden behind a mask as he watches - a slow sweep that always returns to your face, catching every detail.

“That’s it, little bird. Let me hear you sing.”

His voice low and rough as he fucks you through it, chasing his own end. Unable and unwilling to edge himself any longer - not with the way you wrap around him, so tight and warm.

Then, his head is tipping back with his snarl. Giving you a peek of his neck, the column of his throat above his cowl. It’s not his face, something you long to see - to watch, as he falls apart, but it’s still him. Still something to cherish.

You can watch how his fingers dent your skin - the tight grip as he tugs you to meet the shallow pump of his hips as he spills into you.

Pushing himself deep, grinding as you milk the last of his spend from him. Your own orgasm still fluttering in your belly, down your limbs.

Slowly, you come back down.

There’s the sticky dampness of sweat on your skin. A hand curled around and a splayed palm against your back. Close to an embrace, with how close he is - still connected, because he hasn’t moved away.

A slow roll of clouds above, pale against a bright blue sky. Any thoughts gone from your head, leaving you blissful and boneless.

Things will never be perfect, not after what happened.

But as Boba leans over you - fingers tugging up the edge of his helmet just enough to let his lips press against yours…

You think this has to be pretty close.

Sweat beads at the base of your neck, as you crouch in the fields. Tying the twisting, curling vines of the Tatos to the makeshift trellis. Row, after row - enlisting some of the older children to help.

Giving them something to do, as they run back and forth between you and the plants. Getting more string, trying to get you distracted so you'll chat.

They've grown on you, a little bit. The tatos, that is. The weird flavor and texture - you've learned you can't afford to be picky anymore. And mixed in a stew, it's not so bad.

It reminds you of how others had done the same. How Mos Espa had become a place of familiarly and comfort. The roads and paths and people here ones you now know.

Your own little field, tucked away in your heart - carefully tended. Strengthened since the afternoon with Boba after the storm, that stolen moment in the open fields.

It had led to others. Another morning where he met you before sunrise for your shift. An evening, where you found your bedroll tucked next to his. An arm draped across your waist as you sleep.

Small steps, but just like these seeds - they will grow, with time and with tenderness.

A loud, piercing wail slices through the air, then - cutting your moment of reverie short.

It’s the first time you've heard the siren, other than the quick test that had you all clapping your hands over your ears. A looping warble that has the hairs on the back of your neck rising.

It has you straightening up, as the fear flickers in your chest. Scanning the horizon for trouble, following the mechanical chatter of the defense turret, as its muzzle swivels.

There's something shimmering, just beyond the chain-link fences. Dark and swaying against the hills behind, as your hand comes up to shield your eyes.

Growing bigger with each step. Coming towards you.

The attack that the Oasis has been anticipating - finally arriving.

"Get inside." Your words come out weak - trying to keep an eye on both the figures, and the kids. Trying again, sharper and louder this time, as the siren continues, "Get inside, now!"

They scatter. Scurrying as the settlers race out to meet the incoming storm, spilling from the houses as others are swept up inside.

Still some ways behind you - you've been moving outwards for most of the afternoon. Closer to the edge of town, than where they are gathering.

As the siren dies out, there's a roar.

Inhuman, in the deep, drawn-out rumble. You're trapped in place, as if the vines themselves have twisted around your own legs.

Unable to tear your eyes away from the beings that have now reached the fence - fanning out.

Tall.

You can tell, even from here. Broader than any human - thick arms clutching guns and long, wooden boards riddled with nails.

You've never seen one in person, but the name springs to your mind instantly.

/Super Mutants./

Humans that had been twisted by a virus, fed to them by the military. An experiment gone wrong, when they turned out more cruel than a super soldier should be.

You found seven in all, already clawing at the chain link. Clutching at rusted pipes, boards riddled with nails.

The metal bends, warping under the strength of their hands.

There's the popping of bullets, though you can't tell which way they're going. A voice yelling in your mind to do something - to run. But you still can't seem to move.

You should head back. Barricade yourself inside until it's late. Managing a glance over your shoulder - seeing the much smaller figures still weaving through the rows.

Turning back just in time to see the gates split open, and fall.

Raiders slowly pour from the hills behind - remoras, following in the wake of the sharks. Ready to snap up anything missed, anything left behind. More in number - close to a dozen, fanning out with their weapons raised and waiting.

It throws you back to that first week, after you left the vault. The paralyzing fear rendering you mute, though your thoughts echo endlessly.

Run. Don't just stand there. Do something.

But… you're not alone this time.

You've grown. You've practiced.

And maybe this time, you can do it.

It feels like it takes ages, but your hand moves down to the holster at your waist. Unclipping the pistol, the heaviness bringing you back down to reality.

Shaking in your grip as you bring it up, the movement familiar from the weeks of training.

Strength comes back, as your feet plant in the soil. Steeling your nerves, because you’ve got something to protect now.

Someone.

Boba is out there, somewhere. If you can take one down, then that’s one less that might run into him. One less that could hurt someone else in the village. A life you could save.

Your finger is on the trigger, an eye closing as you hear your name cut across the wind.

Unable to help but look, with the slightest twist of your head. Where he appears - barreling towards the settlement, from the far edge of the perimeter. Drawn by the sounds of the siren, the shouts that have filled the air.

His power armor sits near the middle of town, on that yellow, rusted hanger. It's close to equal distance from where you are. If he gets to it, the battle would tip heavily in the town’s favor.

You smile. He has to make it.

And you could buy him time.

Turning back, you take a breath - and fire.

The shot strikes the Mutant’s shoulder, but he keeps coming. Your finger pulls - again, and again. Striking arm and the chest, but never slowing. A tremble in your arms, eyes fixed on the massive figure still thunders towards you.

The tiny bit of confidence swept away - devoured again by fear. Acutely aware of how different this was than your practice, so unprepared by their speed and the twist in your stomach.

Wishing desperately you didn't have to do this.

Your hands are clammy with sweat, your heels pressing into the ground as you inhale a breath. Trying, again.

Remembering the way Boba had moved you, those little nudges and encouraging murmurs. Holding your breath - aiming for his head, as you fire.

The Mutant pitches forward with your shot, his snarl cut off as he chokes on the sound. Crashing to the ground, tearing up the tatos as he rolls, only to fall still a moment later.

There's a ragged stab of relief in your chest. Before the terror licks at you again, as you realize there is another, following in his wake.

Fingers fumbling as you try to reload, but you know you won't have time. Wishing you had something more on you, but that crowbar is back in Mos Espa, and your little, rusted trowel would do nothing.

You make for the fallen Super Mutant - thinking you can scoop up the pipe it was carrying. Eyes meeting burning, red ones at the second races towards you, his fingers curled around a board that seems longer than you are tall. The beating of your heart drowns out the sound of its snarl, as his arms raise.

No more than a few yards from you now, as you duck down - your fingers fanning out as you frantically reach.

Never expecting the hand that curls around your wrist, instead.

The sharp tug throws you off balance, as you're pushed backwards, and then down. The world tilting as you land hard in the dirt between the trellises, that iron grip still holding on.

Faded brown and blues bleeding into shades of green.

There's the twist of a torso, as he moves between you and the Super Mutant. A gauntlet rising to catch the heavy, downward swing of the board.

Boba snarls at the impact, the sound through the helmet sending a chill up your spine. The echoing crack as the wood shatters - his fingers letting go as he twists his rifle around.

Firing, before you can blink. Stepping to the slide to avoid a swinging fist, before he's burying a hidden blade into the Mutant’s belly.

Only when it falls does he turn, though his attention fixes behind you - a beckoning curl of fingers at the footsteps that approach, before he's pulling the blade free to finish the job.

“Charon.” Boba barks, “Get her out of here.”

With your mind the mess it is, it takes a moment to realize he means to send you away. To stay alone on the front lines, as the Raiders pour in.

"What?" You're finally finding your voice - crying out as you stagger to your feet, "No!"

Your face is reflected in the dark gleam in his visor when he turns. Tracks of tears running down your cheeks that you hadn't even realized have fallen.

Searching for his eyes beneath, as that moment holds for a second that feels like it stretches longer. Unable to bear the thought of leaving him.

The moment breaks as a hand fists in your shirt, yanking you around. Loosening just enough to wrap around your bicep as Charon urges you back towards the town. Boba’s name bursts from your lips, a ragged plea.

It goes all but ignored. The smallest tilt of a helmet, one last glance your way, before he's sheathing the blade. Reloading with a sharp flick of his wrist.

Your begging turns towards Charon, but his face stays resolute as he hauls you towards the boarded-up houses.

"I do as I am bidden."

Your feet dig into the ground, but he is stronger - forcing you to take one step, and then another.

Dragging up dust that swirls around you, as each one pulls you further away from the battle.

Further away from him.

sen’ika - little bird

Thank you for reading 💚 part ix will be out thursday, the 27th!

(0-pressure tags 💕: @spaceydragons, @luladoll, @obiknights, @wingofshadow, @bobathirstaccount, @reluctant-mandalore, @ohheyitsokay, @floral-force, @valentine-tx, @ri-a-rose, @dreamlandcreations, @vellichormybeloved, @writeforfandoms, @winchestershiresauce, @monada43, @rescuethewretched, @thegalaxys-edge, @honeydjarin, @ray-rook, @dumfanting, @bedky, @thirsty-boba-fett-posts, @dukeoftheblackstar, @lifelikefae, @pentaghasm, @izbelross, @margowritesthings)

[blues824]

This might sound a little too much to ask, but could you do headcanons about Ace, Deuce, Jack, Epel, Ortho and Sebek going to the reader's world (which is real-life Earth), please? I would like to see them explore the countries and cities, taste the unique cuisines (including the ones they had never tried before), buying souvenirs, etc. I would also like to know their favorite singers, songs, movies, food, drinks, countries and cities from the reader's world.

I made myself hungry. Reader is barely mentioned, but kept gender-neutral. They are all aged-up because some characters have alcohol as a favorite beverage (besides Ortho).

Ace Trappola

Favorite country + city he visits: Los Angeles, United States. He loves the big city, and L.A. has a day-life and a night-life. NYC comes in second place for that same reason.

Favorite cultural cuisine and specific favorite food: It’s stated that he likes cherry pie, so he probably likes food from the U.K. (I looked it up and it said that cherry pie originated from there)

Favorite drink: Strawberry green tea with popping strawberry boba. Riddle’s taste for strawberry has rubbed off on him, and since L.A. has a lot of boba shops, he loves it.

Favorite souvenir: A fancier deck of cards, for obvious reasons

Favorite singers/songs: I have a feeling this man knows his Nicki, so his go-to song is Monster by Jay-Z, Rick Ross, Nicki Minaj, Bon Iver, and Kanye West

Favorite movie: High School Musical, but when you ask he will say something like Silent Hill to seem all bad and cool

Deuce Spade

Favorite country + city he visits: Probably Tijuana, Mexico. It’s right on the ocean, and therefore it has a beach. He would love to rent a motorcycle and ride with you all over town.

Favorite cultural cuisine and specific favorite food: Mexican food, specifically street tacos. Mexican street food is some of the best I’ve ever had. When you had him try it, he fell in love.

Favorite drink: Horchatas. They’re a popular drink, and he thinks it’s so good (so do I)

Favorite souvenir: A handmade keychain that has ‘T.J.’ engraved on it. 

Favorite singers/songs: I feel like he’d be into Bad Bunny, but more specifically the song ‘Te Bote’. Mans doesn’t know what the lyrics translate to, he just thinks it has a good beat. (Btw, I’m aware Bad Bunny is Puerto Rican)

Favorite movie: La Bamba. He loves it, but it always makes him cry. (😢 RIP Ritchie)

Jack Howl

Favorite country + city he visits: Madrid, Spain. Beautiful scenery, wonderful sunset skyline, and rooftop bars: all you need in life.

Favorite cultural cuisine and specific favorite food: Bocadillos, any kind as long as it doesn’t have green peppers.

Favorite drink: Sangria. His canonical favorite food is pear compote, so I feel like he would love a fruit-based drink

Favorite souvenir: A pair of Spanish sandals that he got custom-made. He thinks they are comfortable to walk in.

Favorite singers/songs: He loves the local artists that you can find on the streets, playing for flamenco dancers. His favorite song is Ninguna, by Juanes (I know Juanes is Colombian).

Favorite movie: Call of the Wild. It's a sad story that made him tear up the first time he watched it.

Epel Felmier

Favorite country + city he visits: Marseille, France. He went on a road trip all around France (as much as he could, anyway) and found that this place was at the top of his ‘favorites’ list.

Favorite cultural cuisine and specific favorite food: He does prefer macarons over macaroons, so French cuisine would be his favorite. However, Italian food comes in second.

Favorite drink: He wants to be seen as manly, so he would say his favorite drink is whiskey on the rocks (he does genuinely like it), but his favorite is actually a lighter spirit. He would settle for beer, though.

Favorite souvenir: A very small model of the Eiffel Tower.

Favorite singers/songs: Probably As It Was, by Harry Styles. He is secretly a Harry Styles fan 

Favorite movie: Like Ace, he would say his favorite movie is something like The Conjuring, but it’s the Titanic.

Ortho Shroud

Favorite country + city he visits: Thessaloniki, Greece… for obvious reasons.

Favorite cultural cuisine and specific favorite food: He doesn’t eat; he’s a robot

Favorite drink: He doesn’t drink; he’s a robot

Favorite souvenir: A chess set, but instead of normal pieces it’s Greek Soldiers

Favorite singers/songs: I feel like he likes older songs, so I will say Ain’t No Mountain High Enough, by Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell

Favorite movie: Guardians of the Galaxy

Sebek Zigvolt

Favorite country + city he visits: Stratford-upon-Avon, England. He likes to read, and this is where Shakespeare was born.

Favorite cultural cuisine and specific favorite food: I have reason to believe he likes Italian food. His favorite food remains salmon carpaccio.

Favorite drink: He doesn’t drink a lot, so his favorite drink is Earl-Grey Tea. However, when he needs to relax, he drinks campari (he probably likes the bitter flavor)

Favorite souvenir: A leather-bound copy of Romeo and Juliet

Favorite singers/songs: Until I Found You, by Stephen Sanchez (probably discovered after he read Romeo and Juliet for the first time)

Favorite movie: He loves the Harry Potter movies, and no one is allowed to argue with me.

[possiblymiranda]

Ask Game (All of em)

chipotle order?

thoughts on veganism?

a specific color that gives you the ick?

mythical creature you think/believe is real?

favorite form of potato?

do you use a watch?

what animal do you look forward to seeing when you visit an aquarium?

do you change into specific clothes for the house when you get home?

do you have a skincare routine (and how many steps is it)?

on a plane, do you ask for apple or orange juice?

anything from your childhood you’ve held on to?

brand of haircare/bodycare/skincare that you trust 100%?

first thing you’re doing in the purge?

do you think you’re dehydrated?

rank the methods of death: freezing, burning, drowning

thoughts on mint chocolate chip?

an anxious compulsion you do everyday?

your boba/tea order?

the veggie you dislike the most?

favorite disney princess movie?

a number that weirds you out?

do you have an emotional support water bottle?

do you wear jewelry?

which do you find yourself using, american or british english?

would you say you have good taste in music?

how’s your spice tolerance?

what’s your favorite or go-to outfit?

last meal on earth?

preferred pasta noodle?

ask me anything !

ALL OF THEM? 💀

1. Chicken Bowl with White Rice, Fresh Tomato Sala, Sour Cream, and Cheese

2. I would do it too if I had that level of self control

3. Blue

4. Loch Ness Monster not so much because I believe it’s real but out of all of them I think that one is the least harmful so it’s the safest one to exist lol

5. I love all potatoes equally; mashed potatoes, smashed potatoes, baked potatoes, garlic potatoes, french fries, sweet potatoes, potato skins (so maybe the one I like the least is potato salad)

6. All my watches have dead batteries RIP

7. Jellyfish I could watch them for a million years

8. The real question here is who doesn’t have clothes they only where at home

9. My skincare routine is the cheapest face wash I could find any time I take a shower yet I have 50 skincare products sitting in my Amazon cart waiting for the day I win the lottery

10. I have never been offered juice on a plane lol depends on the time of the flight orange juice is a morning only drink

11. I wish I still had my childhood stuffed animal all my stuff was thrown away every time I moved

12. Nope can’t let capitalism win

13. Staying home playing animal crossing

14. 24/7

15. this one is kinda psychotic I did not read this list before reblogging I just really wanted to tell everyone my Chipotle order so someone can bring me some

16. mint chocolate chip is the best flavor you cannot change my mind

17. I don’t have anything I do daily but I do have to do specific things in the same order every time idk how to explain it maybe for example washing dishes I have to wash the plates first then bowls then cups then utensils

18. I’ve only had boba once or twice I just get the brown sugar one lol

19. Broccoli

20. Mulan

21. My social security number

22. When I worked in office I had an emotional support off brand metal cup

23. No I can’t afford ones that don’t break all of mine are broken

24. American

25. No I vibe with every song on the planet like wow someone really wrote these lyrics someone really sang this song I could never

26. I like to think I could handle anything probably not but I’ll try anything spicy

27. A hoodie and leggings I am so boring

28. Movie theater popcorn and a cherry coke with some peanut m&ms

29. Have y’all seen the heart shaped ones?

30. (Ask me anything)

[ploffskinpluffskin]

btw i went to the farmer’s market again today, but this time. A Different One

tho i did realize the two farmers markets are literally like. a couple blocks away from each other lmao this one is held Outside tho, and i had just as much fun ;o; they had live music and everything. i didn’t buy as much for some reason, tho. maybe i’m learning some restraint finally lmao

anywho this time i bought

- two bunches of turnips - a small bouquet of cut posies in a jar (i think?? i can’t remember now rip they started with a P) - package of ground pork - more oyster mushrooms - one bunch of radishes - a dozen eggs - small bag of mesclun mix - chipotle-flavored goat cheese - an asiago topped pretzel lmao - a loaf of onion dill bread  - yet another loaf of bread, this time with cheese and peppers - hibiscus bubble tea with popping mango boba

and. uh. i Think that was it. my grandfather made me feel kinda Bad for spending so much money on a dozen eggs but honestly i’m just kinda trying things out right now when i have the time and freedom to. i’ve never had fresh eggs before, for all i know they really do taste different uu; i feel like he thinks i’m being stupid or something orz

[biohazard-inevitable]

Boba Love

So it is 2 am when i’m writing this and I just wanted to say this was a blurb of an idea that slammed its way through the cosmos and into my skull. Basically the idea is Junkrat tries boba tea for the first time. Idk if anyone’s actually seeing this as I might not post this but it was a neat idea. Personally, I’ve never had boba and only recently found out the little balls are edible so. Thats about my knowledge, so have fun with this fic!

“Hoggieeee!” Junkrat whined out pathetically. “Hoggie I’m hungry and we’ve been on tha run for hours can we pleaaaaase stop somewhere?”

“Last time we stopped for something, you blew the place up and got more people chasing us Rat.” Roadhog growled out, already scanning for a place to stop as he sighed. “So we can’t stay for long.”

“Thank ya Hoggie!” Junkrat screamed out as he stood up in the sidecar to hug Roadhog. “Yer the best!” Soon, a large hand was on Junkrat’s face, forcing him back down in a sitting position.

“Jamison, sit the fuck down this is a highway.”

“Roger!” Junkrat beamed as he sat himself back down. Roadhog huffed and rolled his eyes, veering the bike into the exit lane so he could find a mall or something quick.

As Roadhog drove the bike into a strip mall parking lot, he looking around at their options. For someone who lived through an apocalypse, Junkrat was unbelievably picky. He couldn’t handle certain textures or flavors without gagging or going into a sensory overload, so Mako had to play it smart.

The options weren’t fantastic, mostly due to the fact that this strip mall seemed to be mostly trendy clothes stores and hair salons with a cheap dentist too for some reason. The only store with anything remotely edible was a small boba store, perfect. Perfect in a sarcastic type of way. Junkrat had never had boba before and Roadhog really didn’t want to make his partner go into sensory overload. Roadhog also didn’t want a whiny ride to the safety of their next cheap motel. He’d have to risk it.

“Rat there’s only one option.” Roadhog sighed out. “And it’s somethin new. Do you want to try it?” Junkrat hesitated a little bit as the cogs in his brain whirred, his face scrunching as he made his decison.

“Sure! What’s tha worst that could happen?” He smiled cheekily. Roadhog rolled his eyes under his mask and parked the bike behind the boba store.

Surprisingly to Roadhog, Junkrat stayed sat in the cart patiently as Roadhog went in and order, leaving with the store at gunpoint and two large boba teas. Junkrat sat in the sidecar, tinkering with some bombs as Roadhog approached.

“Here. It’s called boba tea. The little balls are edible.” Roadhog explained as he shoved one of the sweet drinks at Junkrat.

Junkrat took it and took a hesitant sip of the drink. After a slight processing pause and the revv of an engine, Junkrat took another more excited sip.

“Hooley dooley mat!” He exclaimed happily. “Whadja say this was called? Boba tea?”

“Yeah. You like it?” Roadhog asked.

“Mate, this is the best shit I’ve ever had!” Junkrat cackled, flapping his free hand about a little bit and took another sip of his tea as they sped off.

“I’m glad you like it. I was worried it would bother you or something and then you’d be even whinier than you already are.” Junkrat merely smiled a dopey smile and gently put his hand on Roadhog’s arm, giving him a little pat.

“I love ya too ya big lug.” He said softly. “And thanks. For everythin.”

As Junkrat said this, and though he couldn’t see it, underneath the mask Roadhog smiled. Never in his life would he ever regret the day he met the madman that was, Jamison Fawkes.

(Edit: it is now 4:06 am at the time I finished writing this i dont know what kept me awake. Also it got really sappy at the end I love writing these two please send in requests for stuff if you think of any. I do angst, fluff, comedy, etc. Currently I don’t write smut for personal reasons so dont ask for that but I’m up for mostly anything hope you guys enjoyed!)

[forever-rogue]

hi! if you’re accepting requests from prompt list #2, does angst to fluff count lol. 5 from angst, 49 from fluff lists! with reader thinking din loves someone else 🥺 i like mando x omera but.. reader who perhaps doesnt have the skills omera has and sees how din looks at her… THE ANGST 😌🤌

AN | Me, writing some Din? It’s been a hot minute, but here we are. I miss him 🥺

Warnings | None

Pairing | Din x Fem!Reader

Masterlist | Din, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A small sigh, a wistful little thing, escaped your lips as you studied the gently lapping water of the lake. It was calm here, a peaceful, tranquil place that served as a welcome refuge after all that you'd been through in the last few years. Sometimes it seemed almost too good to be true. The distant sounds of laughter met your ears as children ran around and played, carefree as could be. Sometimes you wished you were that young again; innocent to life’s darker sides. Unfortunately that wasn’t a possibility, but for now you’d take the peace and stillness you could get.

Pulling off your boots and socks, you quickly tossed them to the side. The water was warm as you relaxed and leaned back, closing your eyes and soaking up the warmth of the summer sun. It wasn’t until you heard the familiar voice that your eyes slowly snapped back opened. Your heart constricted slightly as you spotted Din nearby speaking to Omera. He seemed so happy, in a much better mood than you’d seen in a long time. It was all her, and you remained invisible. Which, when it came to most things wasn’t too bad, but sometimes you wished he would see you.

“Is somebody jealous?” you hadn’t even heard the bounty hunter walk over; you supposed that’s one of the many reasons he was the best in the galaxy. Boba offered a small grimace before sitting down next to you. You shrugged him off staring back into the water. You were not about to get into anything with Boba; that man was insufferable and usually right.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you brushed him off, trying desperately not to look back at Din. Instead, you focused on the water and watched the tiny fish whiz through the water; a few of them brushed by your feet, sending a ticklish shiver up your spine, “I’m just...enjoying the calm afternoon sun and soaking up as much peace before we inevitably leave again.”

“That’s how this all works,” Boba sighed as you nodded in agreement, “you knew that from the day you became my apprentice.”

“I know,” you whispered, “but I hoped at one point I could...walk away and have a normal life. Like this.”

“Normal is all relative,” he had a point as you huffed lightly and stood up, brushing off your pants and reaching for your boots, “but if this is what you want, what you truly want, you know you’re welcome to leave whenever. I would not hold you back from the life you wanted.”

“I know, Boba,” you put your hand on his shoulder and gave it a light squeeze, “the problem is that I don’t really know what I want...I think I know but...it’s more than that.”

“Of course,” he agreed, casting a quick glance at the object of your affections before turning back to you, “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

“Either way, it will work out, just as it always does,” you swallowed the lump that had welled up in your throat, “Boba, why are you doing this?”

“I just want to make sure you’re happy - that you know that you have choices in what you’re doing,” he said like it was no big deal, but to you it meant so much. This hardened, sometimes gruff man really did have a heart of gold underneath it all, “should you want to part ways, I would understand. Should you want to stay, I’d be more than happy to have you with me. I don’t know what the future holds for myself, Fennec, or Djarin, but you know it will not always be easy. But sometimes you have to decide what’s most important.”

“Yes,” you answered softly, “thank you, Boba.”

He remained silent as you laced up your boots before padding away, back towards the village. You knew you had a lot to think about and if you wanted things to change at all, you’d have to figure out something. You cast a glance over your shoulder and you were almost positive that you’d spotted Din looking in your direction. But it was all a trick of the mind; it had to be. Why would he spare you more than a passing thought anyways?

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was late by the time he found you; much later than any reasonable person should have been outside, but you couldn’t sleep. There was too much on your mind to silence, and if you managed to, it was short-lived and another thought came to replace the previous one. Eventually you’d given up and wandered out of the small hut home that had been acting as your own home for the last couple of months. You knew the area was safe and wanted to enjoy the temperate night air before it turned to a crisp fall breeze, or worse - you’d be gone.

Small bugs chirped happily along with the soft songs of nightbirds as you walked around the sleeping village; you weren’t scared here, you felt safe and at home. But as you rounded a corner, a gloved hand reached out and grabbed your wrist. A small yelp of surprise left your lips as you pulled into a wall of cool metal - beskar.

“Shhh,” Din placed a finger to his lips as you relaxed when you realized it was him, “you’ll wake everyone up. It’s just me.”

“Dank Farrik!” you hissed at him, “how was I supposed to know that? You could have been a murderer!”

“Well….you should be in bed sleeping.”

“So should you!” your arms crossed over your chest as you stared him down, and eventually he huffed in defeat, realizing you were right. He couldn’t sleep either, plagued by the choices he knew that he had to make sooner rather than later. He hadn’t expected you to be out as well, “what are you doing anyway?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck nervously, a flash of...something in his dark eyes, “I thought that some fresh air would clear my head.”

“Same here,” you admitted reluctantly, leaving the two of you in an awkward silence. You wished you had enough bravery (or perhaps even stupidity) in your body to just say something to him then and there. At least it would be out of the way; but you weren’t feeling anything but nervous butterflies fluttering in your tummy, “I...umm...I guess I’ll get back. Try and sleep.”

“Hey-” he reached for your arm gently before you could get too far away. You turned around and raised an eyebrow as he opened and closed his mouth a few times, “d-did I do something wrong?”

“What? What are you talking about?” the question caught you off guard, but judging by the look on his face, you could sense that this was something he had been thinking for some time.

“You’ve been different lately...it almost feels like you’re avoiding me.”

“Oh DIn, you’re being ridiculous,” and yet the accusation was very true.

“You’re fine around Boba, Fennec...everyone else. But every time I’m around it feels like you can’t wait to get away,” you should have known that he would have noticed sooner or later. The man was more observant than you’d cared to admit, “if I did something, please tell me.”

“You can’t be serious, Djarin. There’s nothing wrong…”

“Then why have you been avoiding me?”

“I haven’t been doing anything. You’ve got too much free time and your mind is running wild.”

“Tell me it’s not true then.”

“Din-”

“Tell me.”

“The problem is that you’re in love with someone else,” the words were out of your mouth before you even contemplated them. You were mortified and in some ways you were relieved. At least it was all out in the open now and you were able to let the chips land where they may.

“Oh,” was his only response as his head tilted to the side and he looked at you in confusion, “what?”

“I...kriff,” you sighed, “I shouldn’t have said that. Sorry - forget I said anything.”

“Who am I in love with?”

“What do you mean?” tears welled up in your eyes at his response; almost like a cruel joke, “you know, everyone knows! Omera; and why wouldn’t you be? She’s wonderful - kind, smart, beautiful … everything. Part of me wants to dislike her, but I can’t because she’s such a good person but it kills me a little bit to know that you love her and you’ll never even think twice about me. I know that’s super selfish but it’s the way I feel; and judging from how this is going I think I’m making the right decision by leaving. By myself.”

Din said nothing as a few tears rolled down your cheeks. You laughed bitterly at yourself before realizing that this might have been the best decision after all. You couldn’t stay after this.

It wasn’t long before Din came to his senses and ran after you, calling your name and catching up with a few easy strides. You came to a reluctant stop as you sniffled and waited for him to say something, despite the fact that you weren’t sure you wanted to hear whatever he had to say.

“I-I-I’m not in love with Omera,” he insisted as it became your turn to look at him in bewilderment, “I’m in love with you.”

“What?”

“I’ve been talking to her about you,” he confessed, “about how to do...this sort of thing. But then you started avoiding me and I wondered if maybe I’d read the signs wrong and you didn’t like me at all. At least not in that way.”

“I don’t….what?” you heard his words but weren’t able to fully comprehend them. This had to be some sort of weird fever dream. Din sighed - his trademark sigh - before ripping off his gloves and gently putting his hands on the sides of your face. He was hesitant at first, to see if you would stop him. But you didn’t...instead you relished in his touch, the feel of his bare skin on yours sending electric shivers throughout your whole body.

After a few moments of quietly studying your features, he leaned in and slowly pressed his lips against yours. It wasn’t a proper kiss by any means, hardly more than a ghost of one, but it felt...strangely wonderful. You looked at him in disbelief as he pulled back; was this really the same man that you’d met all that time ago that wouldn’t even tell anyone his name or let them see his face?

“Oh.”

“Can we go inside?” he whispered softly, “can we talk?”

“Yeah,” you agreed gently. He reached for your hand but before he could take it in his, you stopped him and pressed another sweet, barely there kiss to his lips. A tinge of pink colored his cheeks as you beamed at him, “now we can go.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Pedro Character Taglist (strikethrough means I couldn’t tag you - please check your settings. Strikethroughs will get removed if not taggable)

@qhbr2013 @greeneyedblondie44 @dodgerandevans @cannedsoupsucks @april-showers-and-flowers @klaine-92 @softboiipascal @rpcvliz @im-an-adult-ish @dobbyjen @thevoiceinyourheadx @niki-xie @jediknight122 @xxlovingfandomsxx @mrpascals @startrekkingaroundasgard @welcometothepedroverse @ilikemymendarkandfictional @actual-spawn-of-satan @wanderlust69 @lazybeeches @beskarboobs @someday-when-you-leave-me @leaiorganas @salome-c @rosiefridayrogersunday @madslorian @artsymaddie @haildoodles @windfallss @spookispunk @nikkixostan @edencherries @stillshelbs @djarinbarnes @alyispunk @ayamenimthiriel @gallowsjoker @its–fandom–darling @star017 @amneris21 @empress-palpat1ne @cable-kenobi @gooddaykate @princeofdorne @natthebattygeologist @riddikulus-obsessions @sleep-tight1 @mamacitapascal @14mcmd1122 @leaiorganas @hoodedbirdie @kenzieam @dobbyjen @jedi-mando @milkxxkookies @lazybeeches @general-latino @jediknight122 @cosmoschick @recklessworry @jaime1110 @thorins-queen-of-erebor @thatnerdwriter @bestintheparsec @pascalisthepunkest @kristeng42 @rosie-posie08

[syn0vial]

weird things about the sarlacc and boba fett’s time therein, according to the expanded universe

i was talking about this in a mandalorian groupchat and felt it deserved to be shared on tumblr, so without further ado, here’s a bunch of fucked up shit that happens in the sarlacc according to star wars legends:

first weird thing about the sarlacc in the great pit of carkoon: it's.... questionably sentient? basically, sarlaccs absorb bits and pieces of their victims until they achieve a kind of weird melded consciousness. and, perhaps due to the fact that it had absorbed jedi in the past, the carkoon sarlacc was like, prolific in this regard,  to the point where it had a fairly well developed personality and identity that it basically ripped from its first victim, a young boy named susejo.

as "susejo," the sarlacc would not only physically digest its victims alive, but psychologically torture them. this was discovered by an anthropologist who studied the video captured by boba's helmet while he was in the sarlacc, which showed him reacting to stimulus that wasn't there. it caused said anthropologist to speculate that the sarlacc not only fed on its victims physical bodies but also their fear and pain.

in fact, in "a barve like that," a story written by moran under a pseudonym, we get entire conversations between boba and "susejo," in which this man gets LITERALLY GASLIGHTED BY THE FUCKING SARLACC

susejo/the sarlacc basically tries to convince boba that none of this is really happening and that it's all in his head.

it is entirely unsuccessful in this regard

that said, it also tortures boba by making him live through the dying memories of its other victims, so. that's fun.

after pilfering through his mind for awhile, susejo/the sarlacc tells boba: “It’s been a long time since I had one like you, all bright and sharp around the edges. You are nearly a work of art, Fett; there is a clarity to you that is quite wonderful. A purity to your intent.”

(i read this description of boba fett more than a decade ago and it has lived rent-free in my head ever since.)

(also the sarlacc does this while hanging boba from a wall in a mockery of what he had done with han in jabba’s palace, which isn’t super relevant but is just cool thematically)

but not to worry! boba eventually escapes in very spectacular fashion

y’see, boba’s jetpack has an emergency panel that can activate the jetpack when switched. problem is, he can’t reach it with his hands bc the sarlacc has his arms pinned to the wall. 

but one day, boba reaches his breaking point. susejo/the sarlacc is gearing up for another round of psychologically torturing its victims via memory share and boba just fucking snaps. 

"You're an ingrate, you pathetic excuse for a sentient being. You got taken down here as a child and everything that you know and everything that you are you owe to the people you let get eaten" - - and the Sarlacc's tentacles spasmed around Fett, digging into him, hauling him back into the wall behind him--"and your feelings are hurt because I've told you so? You could have helped that Jedi, she'd have come back for you. Instead you spent the next four thousand years playing at philosophy, abusing the people who taught you to be what you are, never even dreaming that you had options, and why?" he screamed at Susejo, building up to it, blasting him with the rage and hatred he had spent a lifetime growing, the Sarlacc's straining tentacles shaking against his body. "Because you're stupid, a miserable mean wretch of an excuse for a sentient being without the imagination or the courage--" The tentacles slashed around him, a sound like a thousand whips cracking, drowning out Fett's voice.

you may have noticed that, throughout the course of this excerpt, the sarlacc presses boba progressively harder against the wall–which just so happens to provide the pressure necessary to switch that emergency panel i mentioned earlier.

trapped between boba and the wall of the sarlacc, the jetpack explodes, badly wounding the sarlacc and throwing boba to the ground, arms free.

“Standing in the fire, burning alive, Boba Fett fired a concussion grenade into the ceiling thirty centimeters above his head, and threw himself down to the surface of the tunnel, into the flaming mixture of acid and fuel-The explosion tore apart the world. The concussion slammed Fett down into the flames, and his left arm, trapped beneath him at the wrong angle, snapped as he was smashed down atop it. A pain so great it was like a white light surrounded Boba Fett, and he knew that he was dying, that he had failed, like all the others before him, that he had traded a slow death by acid for a fast death by fire–Sand rained down upon him. A long time later, Boba Fett became aware that he was still alive.”

upon regaining consciousness, boba throws even more grenades, blasting a hole in the sarlacc until he’s able to claw his way out.

basically, it’s a good thing that boba fett does not regularly open up about all the rage and hatred inside of him on either a verbal or psychic level bc it’s apparently enough to overpower a fucking sarlacc.

even decades after escaping, boba remains haunted by not just his own memories of the sarlacc, but the memories of its other victims and their lives, forever mingled inextricably with his own. bc shitty traumatic memories are definitely something boba fett needed more of.

[bloodstainsontengensfloor]

Mai Zenin x Fem!Civilian Reader:

A snapshot before it’s too late

Warning: spoilers for 149!

TW: light reference to suicide

::readmore:: Flash!

Mai crinkled her nose, placing a hand on her hip as your Polaroid barfed up the film. “What was that for?” She asked, a light blush scattered across her face as she watched you take the film out and place it on the table in front of you. You and Mai had gone out for Boba on the shoreline, and the sunset was just... perfect right behind Mai. You couldn’t help yourself.

“Sh! You have to wait for it to form-“

“If you shake it I’ll be faster-“

You slapped Mai’s hand away. “No! That makes it worse-“

“No it doesn’t-“

“Mai-chan, just look and wait-“

“Y/N! I don’t have the patience-“

“Look!” You said, proudly and carefully picking up the Polaroid picture to show Mai. You weren’t oblivious to her obvious embarrassment, but... with the sunset behind her and the natural beauty that was her, you really couldn’t help yourself. Mai didn’t seem entirely impressed, and it was just a Polaroid, it wasn’t something to be absolutely amazed by.

“Humph, I don’t even know why you made that.”

“Because some moments are so beautiful, you just can’t stop yourself from capturing them.” You said, without missing a beat and without really thinking. After realizing what you said (and how totally cheesy it was), you blushed, mumbling some apology and ramble about how the sun looked pretty with her silhouette. You nervously took a sip of your Boba-

Flash!

Your eyes were wide as your vision focused again. “Huh-“ You asked, blinking rapidly a few times. Mai just smirked, your Polaroid in hand. She lightly began to wave the film that was just vomited out of the top of the camera.

“What?” Mai said, feigning innocence. “Some moments are just too beautiful that you just want to capture them.”

-

-

-

-

-

You didn’t expect not seeing Mai after October.

You didn’t expect her sister, burn marks scattered around her body, to come to your house. You never even met her sister before, but now you did, and you were scared. You knew what Mai did was dangerous and you woke up one morning in a cold sweat, unaware why. Before you shot up in your bed, you swore you heard seagulls or the lulling sound of the waves....

“I don’t really know how you knew my sister.” Maki said after a while. She sounded as alive as she looked. Her voice was dry, almost monotone. She was a lot bigger than Mai physically. You thought focusing on the differences between the twins would be easier than focusing on the similarities. You knew why she was here. You knew what happened. It was one of those things you would know. The way you felt off the past few days, like something was missing from your world. “Anyway,” Maki shifted the sword in her grip. She placed it on the table that sat between the two of you. “This is the last thing Mai gave me.” You felt a lump grow in your throat. “The last thing she ever gave anyone.”

She couldn’t even say the words that would finalize it. Mai was dead. You felt your finger nails dig into your palms as you avoided eye contact. It might have been a terrible thing to say, but it was a blessing that was Maki was so damaged that she barley looked like Mai anymore. Well accept for the hair... and if you looked closely enough you could see... You swallowed the lump in your throat, and tried to settle your breathing. You wouldn’t cry in front of Maki, Mai wouldn’t have wanted that. Mai always described Maki as stronger and as braver and as brasher and-

“So.... yea.” Maki awkwardly added, fiddling with the sword in hand. The last thing Mai created was a weapon of destruction... that was so dramatic... just like her...

Maki kept on rambling, and despite yourself, your mind wandered. Mai sacrificed herself, she did something heroic. You knew Mai, she wasn’t heroic. She was selfish and prideful and obnoxious and a total bitch almost all the time. But at the same time she was funny, caring, and someone so full of love that was never taught how to give. Sometimes you would catch Mai staring at the ocean when you guys would go to the beach, and there would be something so dead in her face. Sometimes you would notice the way Mai cut things off when she spoke about the jujutsu world. The anger, sadness, and despair in her words...

A dark thought crossed your mind that you quickly shuddered away. It could be true but right now, you didn’t have the stability to worry about it. “She left.” You said, cutting of whatever Maki was saying. “She left us both.” Maki stared at you for a little. Her expressions were even harder to read than Mai’s. “But I’m okay with that... if that makes sense. I just wish that-“ The breath got caught in your throat. You closed your eyes and took a quick, shaking, breath. You wouldn’t cry, not yet at least. Or maybe even at all. Mai hated seeing you cry and you could almost hear her mocking voice.

“Aww don’t flatter me too much by crying over my death! What happened to trying to keep my ego down?”

Despite yourself, you smiled, letting out a wet chuckle. Maki raised a brow but said nothing. “I just wish that she got to say goodbye.” You added. Maki didn’t respond.

After a few moments of silence, Maki asked, “was she happy?”. You looked up from your own pity party and saw the tears that were gathering in the corner of Maki’s eye. Maki was half of a person now, and no matter how much shit Mai might have told you about her, you knew they loved each other more than anything in this world.

But her question got you thinking. Was Mai happy? She hated being a shaman, she didn’t want to be one at all. That’s why she was always with you because with you, she could pretend to be normal. Pretend like she was just a delinquent friend coming over, and not a shaman who wanted to play a different role. But Mai’s eyes always lit up or softened when she talked about her friends. The way she teared up when she explained the time Utahime-Sensei let her stay with her over the Winter Break because Mai didn’t want to go back to the Zenin complex without Maki. The way she complained about Todo but the light tone in her annoyed voice told you that she enjoyed his company. The way she held Nishimiya in such high regard that you always felt a little bit of jealously burn in your stomach. The way she admired Miwa for being apart of the world but still was able to smile and have fun, how nothing could break her stride. The way she would tease Kamo in her descriptions of him but admitted that he was one of the people who she related to the most. “I just wish he didn’t have such a large stick stuck up his ass”, she had said. The way she explained Mechamaru’s crush on Miwa and how the two should just suck it up and go on a date because she couldn’t stand watching them run circles around one another anymore.

The way she smiled when she was with you. The way she looked... free whenever you guys went on your mini adventures. The way she softly would kiss your lips or the way she snuggled into your shoulder. It was so tender and so normal and so sweet it seemed so out of character for Mai. But what she had with you was one of the things she wanted but never had before.

“Y-yes.” You said, annoyed that another lump had grown in your throat. “I-I think she was.” Maki let out what seemed like a sigh of relief. She hastily wiped away the tears that had gathered in her eye before standing up, confident, powerful, and intimidating as ever. You hated how much she looked like Mai then. Because now she was playing a part she didn’t want to play and she was feeling a pain she couldn’t understand.

“Well, that’s good then.” She said, pulling something out of her pocket and handing it to you. You lightly gasped as you realized it was the Polaroid Mai had teasingly took of you, and that it was stained with some blood. “This was on Mai’s b- when she di- when she left.” Maki looked at the clock on the far side of the room. “Well... I should be going now.”

“Thank you, Maki-San.” You said, holding the Polaroid a little bit closer. Maki grunted in acknowledgment before leaving. And that’s when you let the dam break.

What? Did you think you wouldn’t be in my final thoughts or something?

You sobbed, your throat burned as you held the Polaroid close to your chest. Your parents weren’t home so you could have screamed if you wanted to, but with what was happening all over Japan, you knew it was better not to. You held a bloody memory of Mai, a bloody memory of the two of you together. You couldn’t even remember the last thing you said to Mai and Vice versa and that was even worse. You stumbled up your stairs and threw the door open to your bedroom, your body feeling weak. You ripped down the Polaroid photo of Mai from that dumb beautiful day on the shoreline and sobbed. Something was missing for the past few days and now you knew what it was. No more teasing smiles, no more taunts, no more kisses, no more late night adventures, no more unexpected sleepovers, no more nothing. Because Mai was nothing but a fucking sword now.

Well, I think I’m a pretty hot sword but-

“I hope we meet again. I don’t know what happens or where we go after we die, but I hope we meet again. If we meet in some afterlife, I hope it’s a good one. I hope it’s happy. And if it’s rebirth, I hope you aren’t a shaman. I hope your family loves you. I hope you and your sister get to be real sisters and not be torn apart by the world of a Shaman. I hope we meet at school or some Starbucks or something, and we do this all over again, but it ends better. It won’t end like this.

And if we just become nothing after we die, I hope i become nothing with you, right by your side. And if we return to the stars whose dust we were made from, I hope our stars are right next to one another, and I hope yours shines brighter than you did in this life.

I wish you the best, Zenin Mai.”

—————————————————

Yea I’ve been dead for a bit, still not over her death so uhm... here. Enjoy. Or cry. Or both’

[nim-lock]

WHO HURT BOBA WHY WAS HE HAVING SELF LOATHING THOUGHTS

YOU KNOW WHAT, I’ve impulse written enough for this to be a second prompt fill for Day 5, so hello @bobadinweek Day 5 Hurt/Comfort Part 2 !!!

Word count: 1171 [content warning: MENTAL HEALTH]

The entire day had felt off. It felt like many other days, in the endless drudgery of being alive. Boba woke to overcast skies over his area of Tatooine, normally a source of relief and contentment. He moved his body through the daily litany of meetings, beat up a comically ill-prepared assassin, and showed up to game night, organized by Fennec and some of the full-time staff. Din waved at him from his spot on the floor, and Boba's eyes skittered away from the helmet's visor.

Nothing was wrong.

Boba couldn't enjoy it.

It had been, by all accounts, an entirely mundane day. The issues that cropped up were all solvable. Boba Fett had consumed an adequate amount of nutrients over the course of the day, and he was now partaking in a social activity. This was fine.

As Fennec went through the instructions for the newly released bantha-befriending board game, Boba became increasingly aware of Din's presence by his shoulder. Or perhaps he was projecting, and Din wasn't paying extra attention to him at all. After all, their relationship was a relatively recent development. They really didn’t know each other well enough. 

The game progressed; pieces were taken, traded, and moved; Boba made the appropriate noises of encouragement, amusement, and outrage. He interacted with Din a reasoned amount. He watched himself go through the motions as though through a thick haze of fog. Boba put his pieces back after the first game and excused himself, citing a need for routine weapons maintenance. Fennec flipped him off, and told him she’d see him the next morning.

--

Boba sits heavily on his mattress and lets his face contort into the positions he’d held off on doing the entire day. He takes off his armor with the routine amount of reverence befitting belongings of his father. He’s not sure how he feels about the lack of plated pressure on his chest. He hears a ragged gasp, and a sound like a wounded deer, and it takes longer than it should for him to realize it’s coming from his own wretched vocal chords. He’d make an effort to stop making this ambient soundtrack of his life, but it feels like more energy than he can give at the moment. 

There’s a knock on the door.

Boba schools his face back into a semblance of composure, and is momentarily comforted by the knowledge that the soundproofing in his room is solid. He sees Din’s helmet through the peephole. 

“Hello,” he says, opening the door a crack. He is confronted by smooth beskar. Din has taken off his armor, with just the helmet remaining. For the second time that night, Boba’s not sure if he can read the man’s body language. Or rather, clues point to Din exhibiting the emotion of “concern”, but that can’t be right. 

“Can I come in?” Din says. “Are...you okay? Is there anything I can do?”

“No,” says Boba, roughly. Before he remembers the first part of what Din said. “Yes—you can come in. If you want. I don’t think you can help me, however. I’m not good company right now.” 

Din regards Boba for a long moment, then slowly walks into Boba’s room. The room is sparse, and Boba is glad that it does not reflect the chaos of his mental state. He’s never had many belongings, what with his ready-to-go-at-any-moment lifestyle and understanding that attaching sentiment to too many things was even more loss to bear.

Boba remains standing near the door. “What do you want?”

“I just wanted to see how you were doing,” says Din, awkwardly, fidgeting with the seam of his belt. “You don’t have to tell me anything, of course, but...I’m trying. To be a good friend.” 

Boba stares resolutely at a plant to Din’s left, debating whether he should tell Din nothing. Whether he should just laugh it off and pretend everything was alright. But he’s not sure if that would help. He doesn’t want to see Din’s regard for him gradually deteriorate as he realizes that Boba could never be the right person capable of caring for him properly. 

The air is tense. Boba knows he himself is the one making it so. If Boba’s going through this, he might as well rip the bandaid off the entire way. So he can lay down and fuck himself up and force himself to pick up the jagged pieces, and know, that he is destined to be alone. With the vaguely masochistic satisfaction of knowing he's about to twist a knife into his own figurative insides, he speaks.

“I’m rarely happy,” Boba blurts out. “I mean. You—you met me at a point where I was. Happy. Content. As good as it could have been under the circumstances. But that’s not me all the time. Most of the time, it’s like..... this.” 

“Alright.” Din says, levelly. Waiting for him to go on. 

“I’ll fuck this up. Life continues to happen and it’s not bad, but it feels like I can’t...appreciate it. It feels like I should. It feels like I should be glad to have lived beyond all expectations. I don’t—you know—I. I know I brought down the mood of the entire gathering today. I know I made everyone uncomfortable. And I can’t help that. It feels like I should be in control of my thoughts and actions but. There’s only so much I can pretend to be...a person that people want...to be near.” Boba’s heart rate feels way too high. His breath is too shallow. He thinks a heart attack right now would be quite nice, actually. So he can get out of this situation. His eyes are unseeing. Is his vision fading?

His brain is full of bantha wool and Boba knows some time has passed because the next time he is aware of his own skin, he is sitting down, and Din has his hand in his hand, and a hand almost touching his face, and. And it almost feels like reality is real, just at those prickling points of contact. Din’s talking. He’s been talking and Boba didn’t process a word of it before now. 

“Hey—look at me—listen; you matter. Alright? Remember this. Take a deep breath for me.” 

Boba doesn’t think he has the energy. Everything feels too much. 

“It’s... okay,” Din says, a stilted attempt at saying the right things to make someone feel better, “Or maybe it’s not, but I’m not giving up on you just because you happen to be a person, Boba.” 

Boba...sits. And tilts his head forward, and leans into Din’s shoulder. Arms encircle his body, and he breathes. It smells like laundry detergent, sweat, and a lingering hint of metal. Boba doesn’t know what he’ll say after this moment passes. He doesn’t know the right thing to say, and... maybe he doesn’t have to know. He breathes, and feels the pounding in his chest fade to a background lull. This? This is good. 

[well-its-not-human-anymore]

Hi Hi!!!! So I've been following your account for a little while now and I love every single comedy bomb you drop on what you write so I was wondering....

How would the boys react to their S/O who is usually reserved when at the lair, doing a full 180 when at April's? Like they could be April's roommate or something?....

Like crackhead energy, dishing out memes and vines and literally having a duel with Casey about leftovers in the fridge?... Yeah I know it's very specific 💀

I don't know.....the idea just popped into my head but I lack the creativity and comedy skills for that...so I was wondering if you could do something with this?.....

It's totally fine, if not 😁😁

This is... 100% me. I love this and I'm gonna pour my soul into it. Also I have started mentally referring to these as comedy bombs and I refuse to stop.

Also, I hope you don't mind that I wrote these in oneshot form instead of bullet points. It just made more sense for my brain.

TMNT Oneshots

The boys with a partner whose reserved at the lair but an absolute crack gremlin at home 🤣

Donatello

Donnie may have been a man of science, all logic and facts and numbers and things. But he absolutely believed that everyone had three separate faces, you were direct proof of that theory. While the purple terrapin had known you for nearly a year you’d only started dating a month ago and it shocked him that he was still uncovering new things about you. He loved it, sure, but it had a tendency to give him figurative whiplash.

He’d always known you to be calm and collected, maybe even a bit shy. He swore you’d explode if more than one person tried to talk to you at the same time. So it wasn’t an over exaggeration for him to say that your behavior at home nearly made him break his neck.

He was only there to help April fix a bug in her laptop and to confirm your next date, he was excited to see you since you’d had no contact in person for a week because of your schedules. Just lots of phone calls and exchanged text messages. You both missed each other like crazy and your roommate had neglected to inform you that your boyfriend was coming over.

Hers was already there and he was driving you up the wall, you’d never actually thought about committing a murder but Casey was pushing you very close to the edge of snapping. And he might as well have crane-kicked you off your cliff of patience and into the rushing river of “you little fucking shit I’m gonna piss on your grave” below. You hadn’t even heard Donnie come in through the window much less his conversation with April over her computer.

All you knew was that Casey had come parading into your room like a tyrant eating the leftovers in the fridge that you had specifically put your name on. That did it. Your eyes had skimmed over the top of your textbook to meet the asshole in front of you.

“Casey?”

He couldn’t speak through the mouthful he was trying to chew and grunted in pathetic response.

“Is that my cheeseburger?”

You’d never seen a living person imitate a pug’s facial structure so well, the man’s eyes bugged out of his head and he tossed the takeout box on your desk before turning and bolting out of your room. You followed about two steps behind with a bottle of shampoo in your hand. No, you weren’t entirely sure where you’d grabbed it from, all you knew was that it was your weapon. And it quickly became a very messy problem when it missed your target (Casey’s head) and slammed into the wall, exploding on impact.

You didn’t think you’d thrown it that hard.

“April April help help help helpppppppppppppp-'' The two on the couch had looked up during the chase throughout the apartment, Donnie was mostly curious at what Casey was screaming about. Not a lot usually made the guy make that noise. He was then distracted by April grabbing the laptop and passing it to him, she then clambered over his legs to sit behind him.

“YOU UGLY ASS CROISSANT! FUCKING PANINI HEAD- IT HAD MY NAME ON IT YOU DAFT AVACADO!”

Your boyfriend almost went vertical upon watching you tackle Casey to the floor and knee him in the groin. You shook the terrified man under you and slammed him a little harder into the rug.

“Touch my shit again and I’m gonna make the beaches of Normandy look like a goddamn family vacation.”

Then you climbed off of him and stood, brushing your disheveled t-shirt off with a huff. Donnie caught your attention and you raised your head to grin excitedly at him.

“Hi Dove! April didn’t tell me you were coming over,” you practically skipped over to the couch to peck him on the cheek, “I missed ya, are we still on for Saturday?”

He nodded in complete shock, his gaze flitting from you to Casey, who was still wheezing on the floor and clutching his dick.

“Uhhh yeah! Yeah, yep, Still good for Saturday. Uhm, completely unrelated question, where the hell did you learn to grapple like that?”

You shrugged absentmindedly, already walking to the hall closet to grab cleaning supplies for the puddle of shampoo in the walkway.

“Just kinda picked it up I guess? I’ve watched you guys train enough.”

Leonardo

See, Leo had always known that you were hiding something from him. Be it your true personality or some deep dark secret. He wasn’t really in a rush to find out, you’d tell him when you were ready. The leader enjoyed your quiet disposition anyways, you gave good advice and liked to meditate with him, what more could he ask for? What more could he want?

Well, maybe if you got along better with his family, although he supposed that wasn’t your fault, you always had been a bit shy. Even six months into your relationship with him, Leo only hoped that you’d warm up to his brothers eventually. You seemed to do alright with Splinter, that was a plus for the situation. It wasn’t that you were mean or impolite to the others, you were just… avoidant. Distant, quiet, whatever word you wanted to use. You just didn’t seem comfortable at the lair.

He was excited that April had asked to host a game night though, maybe you’d come out of your shell (haha, see what I did there?) and socialize, even for a little bit. They’d all shown up a few minutes early to make sure April didn’t need help with anything, she’d assured them that everything was handled and made sure to inform Leo that you would be back shortly with Casey from your snack run. Mikey had joked that you’d ditched the get together to avoid them but they all knew it ran the possibility of not being a joke.

You unlocked the door and held it open so Casey could get inside without tripping himself before entering yourself and kicking your shoes off. Leo looked up to meet your eyes and you sent him a wild grin, your entire face lit up with amusement.

“Hi babes! Are you ready to get your ass kicked at Monopoly?”

All the poor turtle could do was nod.

“Good. I did grab drinks by the way, April there should be a mixer in the cooler bag, Donnie there’s some of that lemon lime stuff that you said you wanted to try, Mikey, orange crush as usual, Raph I tried to go for Dr. Pepper but they were out so I figured that root beer was a safe second. And Leo they had a new boba flavor that you haven’t had yet so I grabbed one. If you don’t like it then you can have mine, I just have the peach royal.”

Beverages were tossed and they were lucky that their surprise didn’t throw off their catching skills. You and April shared a quick word in the kitchen as you took your coat off and ran a hand through your hair.

After some arguments team captains were decided and Donnie nearly had a heart attack when you picked him instead of Leo or either of your friends. He even went so far as to point at himself to make sure you weren’t joking. You declared that while you loved your boyfriend his morals were too strong to be competitive, Donnie’s were not, he said so himself.

They were all surprised that you’d remembered that conversation.

It wasn’t until halfway through the game that things started getting heated, you and Mikey were nearly jumping across the table at each other. And it visibly took all of your strength to not burst out laughing when he started yelling.

"YOU KNOW WHAT? THIS IS CHEATING! YOU'RE CHEATING! GET ON TOP OF THE FRIDGE!"

April and Casey were snorting into their arms as you got to your feet and walked towards the kitchen, making a poor attempt at climbing the appliance.

"THIS HOUSE IS A FUCKING NIGHTMARE!"

Raphael

Raph had always been under the impression that you were never really 100% yourself around him, he knew for a fact that you weren’t when you stayed over. He’d never seen someone so aggressively avoid someone, except himself of course. You were his partner of almost a year and it seemed like you were never going to let your true self shine. However you did seem to lighten up when you were alone with him, he supposed that was normal, but you may as well have been a pair of old earbuds that only work when you held them a certain way at the lair.

He honestly hadn’t expected that to change tonight, not given the text that Casey had sent him informing him of April’s recent breakup with whatever guy she’d been dating. So when he climbed in through the window and saw both you and Casey sitting on the floor in front of the bathroom he really didn’t think that the words out of your mouth would be-

“April you’ve got another twenty minutes of this then I’m ripping the door off the hinges!”

Casey shot you a look and you shrugged nonchalantly before getting to your feet and walking over to your confused boyfriend.

“Hey, sorry about this. Casey only texted you as a last resort if he needed someone to stop me from tearing the door off.”

Raph found that peculiar, “Uh, couldn’t he do it himself?”

The man in question looked up from his spot on the floor.

“Nah dude, they’re crazy. Last time I tried stopping them from doing something they nearly knocked my damn tooth out while screaming, and I quote, “If you put your hands on me I’m gonna fucking rip your face off” and quite frankly I don’t have the balls to test that.”

“No no dude, that’s valid. I wouldn’t either. Babe, why are you so-”

You raised an eyebrow at him over a glass of water, “Violent? I’m not Raph. These two just have little bitch feelings.”

He found it hard not to laugh at that and fifteen minutes later when you left his side to approach the door again it sent him reeling.

“This shit’s temporary April. You’ve got nice teeth and a fat ass, stuff your feelings down!”

Michelangelo

There would never be a time where Mikey wasn’t a prankster with you, it was just simply non-negotiable. You were cool with that and he was aware, he was also aware that no pranks were to be pulled at the lair. So he’d reign it in while you visited, just for a short while. But you’d never said anything about the apartment and Mikey was a creature of opportunity.

Unfortunately Leo talked him out of it and forced him not to pull anything while they visited. The leader was already on edge so when he walked in with the others following closely behind you were the first person to see him. Your eyes caught Mikey’s instantly and you might as well have been telepathic at that moment. But you took one look at Leo’s solid, angry face and seized your moment.

They weren’t at all ready for the scream.

“GET YOUR FUCKIN’ DOG BITCH!”

And they also weren’t ready for Mikey’s response of, “It don’t bite.”

And Leo was not ready for the pillow that got whipped at his face at incredibly high speed.

“YES IT DO-”

So when Leo finally realized that they were yelling at him his mood did not improve at all and in fact declined sharply into a pit of “oh fuck”. And that was how you ended up on Mikey’s shoulder getting dragged away from any sort of repercussion for your actions.

These got a little short near the end but I hope you like 'em and I hope I was able to capture what you had in mind! 😁

-Mars 🌠

[mandospace]

very soft thought that wrecked me shit: when he was still alive, Jango had a favorite dish coughMandalorianratatouillecough he would make, esp if Boba was sad or sick. Years later the two of you are dating, he's never mentioned this dish to you before. You notice he's having a rough day and decide to make him something good to eat to cheer him up and by chance make that same dish, which you had just found on the net and thought looked good

Oh... oh my god. This is so sweet and soft and you just ripped my heart out and stomped all over it. I hope you’re happy now~~

You weren’t sure what planet the two of you had landed on, but whichever one it was, it was dark and rainy. It had been pouring constantly for the past two days and when Boba had stomped into the ship soaking wet with no bounty in sight, you knew he was having a rough day.

Boba didn’t say two words to you before he was peeling off his beskar and soaked underclothes on his way to the fresher. He was grumbling something under his breath, but you didn’t catch it all. Something about “rains more here than Kamino.” You weren’t sure exactly what that was or why he was in such a bad mood, but you knew that you would make your grumpy bounty hunter feel better if it was the last thing you did.

Days spent on the ship alone meant a lot of down time, and in that down time you had picked up cooking. You would search the holopad for hours, trying to find a recipe that would work with what meager food you had stashed on the ship. You had made the dish you were now preparing once before when Boba was out hunting. It was fairly simple and you had all the ingredients.

By the time Boba emerged from the fresher, trousers hanging low on his hips and a towel tossed around his muscly shoulders, the dish was piping hot and ready to be served. Boba had sat down at the small Holochess table tucked away in the corner that the two of you used as a table and you placed the meal in front of him. His face paled and it looked like he had seen a ghost.

“What’s wrong? Does it not look good?” you asked. The worry had begun to swirl in your stomach.

“How...” Boba picked up the spoon and he nudged the stew. “Where did you find this recipe?”

“The holopad, why?” you started to chew your bottom lip in worry. “Have you had it before? Did you not like it? I thought it was pretty good—”

“I’ve had it before, yes,” Boba cut you off as he scooped up a portion of the steaming stew. He brought it to his face, smelling it before he tasted it. Boba closed his eyes and let out a satisfied moan. “Kriff, it even tastes like his too.”

“Tastes like who’s?”

“My father’s. It’s a Mandalorian recipe, he would always make it for me when I was sick or sad. I haven’t had this since he died.”

“Oh, Boba, I’m sorry,” you felt so guilty for bringing up his past unintentionally when he was already having a rough day. “I can make you something else if you’d like—”

“If you take this bowl away I will shoot you, and I mean it.” Boba’s eyes met yours. “I don’t care if we’re together, I will literally shoot you. You will have to pry this bowl from my cold, dead hands before I let you take it away from me.”

You couldn’t help but blink at the bounty hunter in shock. “So... you like it?”

“Mesh’la,” Boba reached for your hand and tugged you onto his lap. He placed a gentle kiss on your lips, trying to convey all the love he held for you in that moment. “I love it. And I love you.”

“I love you too, Boba,” you could feel the blush settling on your cheeks.

“And thank you.”

“For what?”

“For giving me a piece of my father back.”

[viastro]

nobody knows | choi seungcheol

ミ★ synopsis: in which seungcheol is ordered to kill you, the secret daughter of his boss’s rival.

ミ★ genre: mafia!au, assassin!seungcheol, suspense, humor, fluff, some angst

ミ★ warnings: minor character death, mentions of blood and vomit 

ミ★ word count: 7,264

ミ★ pairings: seungcheol x female reader

ミ★ notes: hi guys ! it’s been a long time since i’ve written a oneshot, and i definitely did not mean for this to be as long as it is. it’s almost as long as daises omg. i haven’t put out a oneshot in a long time because i was dedicating so much time into finishing remember us, which i did ! so now i’ll be trying to write oneshots as much as i used to :D i’m not really a big fan of how this turned out but i hope you guys enjoy it ! i didn’t wanna scrap it just because i didn’t know how to fix it, so i hope it’s okay <3

“Changwoo has a daughter?” Sunghoon nods his head at the question, smirk taking over his features at this newfound information he’s been given. He glances at his personal assassin.

“I need you to kill her Cheol, as a means to show Changwoo that he shouldn’t harm what’s mine.” 

Seungcheol stares at his boss, knowing that he’s been angry about Changwoo killing his right hand man a few months ago. Having this information on his supposed daughter could either make things worse for the two rivals, or make the other mob boss back off. However, Seungcheol doesn’t get a say in these decisions. He can never choose to save anyone Sunghoon orders him to kill, even though he may want to. All he can say is, 

“Of course, sir.” 

“Thank you! Have a good day.” You say cheerfully, waving goodbye to the customer as they walk out the door, boba in hand. You let out a sigh once the door closes, placing your hands on the edge of the counter to close your eyes for a moment. 

“Yn, are you okay?” Opening your eyes, you look up to see your father’s bodyguard staring at you with a bit of concern laced in his features. You nod your head, giving him a thumbs up. 

“Just a bit tired Wonwoo, but I’m okay. I stayed up too late last night watching dramas again.” You joke, giving Wonwoo a bright smile to try and lessen his worry. He lets out a soft grin, shaking his head at you. “You should be sleeping earlier when you know that you have a shift the next day.” 

You shrug, “I know, but the drama was getting spicy. I highly recommend it’s okay to not be okay.” 

Wonwoo chuckles, telling you he’ll check it out when you guys get home. With that, he turns and walks back over to his table, where he will sit for the rest of your shift as it is his job to protect you when you’re out. 

You don’t know why your father even sends Wonwoo to be with you when you have your shift, or why he cares in the first place. You live in a different house than him, he doesn’t visit you at your apartment, the only time he goes out of his way to speak to you is when it’s your birthday. And even then, it’s just a short phone call.

He’s made it his, thing, to push you away the moment your mother passed when you were in high school. You know of his lifestyle, you know how he earns money, and you know that more than half of South Korea fears him. You may be the heir to one of the largest mafia bosses in South Korea, but you have made it clear you want nothing to do with that life. Your father knows that as well, but he decided to take it a step further and just pretend you don’t even exist.

But he gave you your freedom, as long as Wonwoo is by your side to make sure you’re safe. No one knows of your identity, there’s no knowledge of your father even having a child, but he still wants that extra protection on you. That’s why when you decided to move out of the house and into an apartment, he had Wonwoo go with you. 

He’s been with you for the last three years, even going to your on-campus classes. Wonwoo’s become the talk of the town with the ladies and gents there if we’re being honest. He’s not that much older than you, he has about three years over your head. He started working for your father as a drug runner, then he slowly rose up the ranks when it was discovered that he’s incredibly good with a gun and does martial arts. 

And that’s how you’re here now. At your shift with Wonwoo waiting at the table he always stays at when you work. Perfectly safe and sound.

Or so you thought.

“Do you have a picture of his daughter?” Mingyu asks, taking a sip of water as him and Seungcheol sit in the car in front of the boba shop you work at. Seungcheol nods his head, handing Mingyu the file so that he can look at it.

“Jesus Christ, this photo looks like it was taken ten years ago.” Mingyu mutters, looking at a very young version of you. It’s blurry as well, making it hard for him to get a good look at your features. Seungcheol lets out a sigh, squinting through the tinted car windows to try and look into the shop. “That’s because it was taken ten years ago. No one has seen her since then.”  

“What if she’s cute now? She’s just a couple years younger than you.” Mingyu asks, wiggling his eyebrows jokingly. Seungcheol turns his head and looks at his colleague/best friend, giving him a bored expression. “Did you forget that my mission is to kill her?” 

Mingyu shrugs, turning his head to glance out the window. “No, I remember.” 

“Then why did you ask such a ridiculous question? You know our line of work Mingyu, can’t have anyone in our lives that can make us vulnerable.” Seungcheol reminds the younger, and he nods. Mingyu just stares quietly out the window, feeling slightly upset by the reminder of the life that they live. 

Seungcheol looks at Mingyu for a moment, knowing that he doesn’t enjoy this lifestyle. Didn’t want to get dragged into it, but was desperate for money. Now he’s in too deep, and there’s no signs of getting out of it until he’s older and not of use anymore. Seungcheol can say that he’s the same, except the only way he can get out of this business is for him to die, or to kill his boss and take over. However, he’d never do the latter, no matter how much he wants to.

“Let’s get going now.” Seungcheol states, opening the door and stepping out of the car without another word on the subject. Mingyu lets out a sigh, opening the door to the car and hopping out. He follows after Seungcheol, shoving his phone in his pocket as they walk into the small boba shop. 

You turn around at the sound of the bells from the door, about to flash a big smile at the customers that walked in, only to feel your breath get caught in your throat when you lock eyes with the blonde haired man. 

His eyes are a deep brown. It’s the first thing you notice about him, and you can’t seem to find yourself backing down from his intense stare. In fact, you don’t want to, and Seungcheol raises an eyebrow at that. 

“It’s definitely her.” Mingyu mutters under his breath, pretending that he’s telling Seungcheol what he wants to order. However, his friend doesn’t answer him. Mingyu opens his mouth to repeat what he said, only to turn his head to find Seungcheol staring directly back at you with a glint in his eyes that he can’t seem to decipher. 

“Yn, it’s time for your break.” You snap out of the intense staring contest with the handsome man when Chanhee steps out from the back, preparing to take over for you. You give him a smile, “Thanks Chanhee.” 

“Of course yn. Oh, by the way, are you going to get food from next door?” You purse your lips as you think for a moment, before shrugging. “I don’t see why not.”

“Great, can you get me the greek fries? I’ll pay you back.” You laugh, reaching out and patting your pink haired coworker, giving him a thumbs up. 

Seungcheol watches the whole interaction in a dazed state, and Mingyu is left standing beside him incredibly confused. Mingyu’s never seen Seungcheol like this before, usually when they’re out on a job he’s stoic and swift. However, Seungcheol just stands there staring as you turn back around to glance at him, giving him a small smile before walking into the breakroom. Now out of sight. 

“Are you oka-”

“We can’t kill her.” Seungcheol murmurs, turning to look at Mingyu with a serious expression on his face. Mingyu’s eyes widen at the absurd confession, one that he never thought he’d hear Seungcheol make. “I beg your pardon?” 

“We can’t-”

“Are you guys ready to order?” Chanhee asks the two with a grin on his face, and they immediately change their attitudes, flashing the man a smile. Mingyu walks up to the counter first, looking up at the menu before beginning to order. “Yes. I’ll have the hokkaido milk tea.”

All while Wonwoo watches from the table, eyeing Seungcheol suspiciously as he drinks the fruit tea you made him. 

“Hi! Welcome to Tsukki Tea!” You greet cheerfully, looking up from the register to see the handsome man from a week before. Your eyes widen slightly, and the blonde haired man tilts his head at you. 

“Are you ready to order?” You ask slowly, unable to look away from his face. You didn’t comprehend how handsome he was at his last visit due to you having to go on your break, but now that you’re getting a good look at him, he’s incredibly attractive. 

“I’ll have the brown sugar milk tea.” The blonde says, and you feel your knees wobble at his deep voice. You nod your head, putting his order into the system as you hear your heart beat rapidly within your chest. 

“Your friend isn’t with you today?” You ask as he pays for the drink, initiating small talk. He freezes slightly, glancing up at you, “Huh?”

“Your friend. The really tall one from last week, I noticed he wasn’t with you today.” You explain, a nervous smile appearing on your face due to how much you regret asking him the question. He lets out an, ah, before shaking his head. 

“He has work today so I came on my own.” He answers, giving you a reassuring smile, and you feel heat rush to your cheeks at the pretty sight. You immediately glance back down at the touchscreen, ripping his receipt and holding it out towards the handsome man. 

“Can I have a name for your order?” You ask, and he gives you a grin. “My name is Seungcheol.” 

You nod your head, writing his name down on the cup. You can’t help but think that his name is pretty as well, quietly muttering it to yourself as you put the cap back onto the pen. Seungcheol notices this, and bites the inside of his cheek, thinking of how precious you are. 

“Your order will be ready shortly.” You tell him, and Seungcheol nods his head. He walks over to an empty table, sitting down and pulling out his phone to check his messages. 

Seungcheol told Sunghoon that he needed some time to scope you out. To understand your schedule, and find out when you’re alone. He was lucky that his boss believed it, but what he doesn’t know is that Seungcheol isn’t doing any of that. 

The assassin just wants to get to know you. 

When Seungcheol told Mingyu the first day they saw you that he can’t kill you, Mingyu didn’t believe him. He thought it was just from lack of sleep, or he was just pranking him. However, he came to find out that it wasn’t from either of those reasons at all. That Seungcheol was serious.

“You’re never like this Cheol, why can’t you kill her? It’s never been hard for you before.” Mingyu says, taking a sip from his boba as they drive back to headquarters. Seungcheol just stares silently out the window, biting his finger as he thinks of why he can’t kill you. 

He doesn’t have an answer to that.

“I haven’t found the answer yet.” Seungcheol simply responds, and Mingyu turns to glance at him with a flabbergasted expression on his face. 

“WHAT?!” 

“I’ll figure it out along the way.” Seungcheol mutters, still wondering why his heartbeat quickens when he thinks of your bright smile. Mingyu just scoffs, leaning back into the driver’s seat. 

“I know that I said she might be cute and insinuated that you fall in love with her, but it was absolutely a joke. What if the boss finds out that you aren’t actually going to kill her?” Mingyu asks, and Seungcheol purses his lips at the reminder. He lets out a sigh, frowning as he thinks of an excuse to give him. 

“I got it.” 

“Do you?”

“Probably not.”

“Seungcheol!”

Wonwoo glares at the mysterious man from across the shop, wondering what his intentions are with you. He tilts his head to the side, glancing back at his phone while he wonders why the name Seungcheol seems so familiar to him. 

You take the finished boba out from the machine that adds the plastic seal, walking over to the counter. You grab a straw and place it on top of the lid, “Order for Seungcheol!” 

The man in question turns towards you at the call of his name, letting out a small smile. He stands up from the table, walking over to you and gratefully taking the boba. 

“I hope you enjoy it, Seungcheol.” You say softly, and he takes notice of the twinkle in your gaze. 

“What’s your name?” He asks, smiling down at you.

You glance up at the man with your eyes slightly widened, having not expected him to ask a question. He tilts his head to the side in amusement, and you let out a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of your neck. 

“My name is yn.” You answer, and he nods his head.

“Well, thank you for the boba yn. I’ll be sure to enjoy it since you made it for me.” Seungcheol says in a sweet tone, causing you to smile. You wave bye to him as he steps out, and he waves back at you before closing the door. You let out a sigh once he’s out of the shop, resting a hand over your beating heart. 

“He’s too handsome.” You mumble, before turning towards the sink. Wonwoo watches as you begin to clean the station, small smile on your face as you do so, and he feels himself growing more concerned. 

“I gotta find out who he is.”

“Seungcheol, it’s been close to three weeks. Why isn’t the girl dead yet?” Sunghoon asks as Seungcheol cleans his gun quietly. He freezes slightly, before quickly relaxing, turning to glance up at his boss. 

In complete honesty, Seungcheol is shitting his pants at the moment. Him and Mingyu have been planning on how to not kill yn without letting their boss know, and they don’t really have a good idea. However, Seungcheol spends his days going to visit you at the boba shop. The conversations between you and him continue to grow longer each time he goes. To the point that he waits for you to get on your break so that the two of you can spend it getting to know each other. 

He’s discovered that you started working at the boba shop because of your serious addiction towards the drink, and that you wanted to learn how to make it yourself. He’s also learned that you’re allergic to bees, yet you love flowers and nature with a passion. Seungcheol finds you to be rather endearing, especially when you brightly tell him stories.

While you’ve learned that Seungcheol is a very simple guy. He enjoys working out in his spare time, and would like to own a dog. You asked him why he hasn’t adopted one yet, but he just gave you a small smile, shaking his head and saying that it’s not the time for him to get one.

“She has a bodyguard on hand at all times, I wouldn’t want to cause a bigger mess.” Seungcheol lies with ease after a second of thinking, and the man before him squints slightly. He leans forward towards the assassin, the power and influence he has radiating off of him in waves. 

“Since when has making a mess been a concern to you, Seungcheol?” Sunghoon asks in an icey tone, and Seungcheol stops wiping the cloth over his silencer. He glances up at his boss, keeping eye contact as they practically stare each other down. 

“Do I need to remind you of who you work for?” Seungcheol hears his heartbeat in his ears, knowing damn well what his boss is capable of. He’s known since he was a child. So Seungcheol shakes his head, visibly backing down from the oncoming fight that was going to break out. 

“Good. I want her dead by the end of next week Seungcheol.” 

“Okay, but hear me out.” You begin, and Seungcheol watches you with an amused smile. You lean forward in your seat, staring directly into his pretty eyes, causing a small blush to form on his cheeks. 

“Bigfoot.”

“No.”

“But Cheol! They have to be real.” You state, and the latter just shakes his head at you, taking a sip of the boba you made for him before you went on your break. He lets out a breath, “Yn, if bigfoot was real, then someone would’ve caught them by now. There’s no way a creature with big ass feet and is apparently really tall wouldn’t have been captured by now.” 

This is one of the many ridiculous conversations you and Seungcheol have had since the two of you have gotten closer. Seungcheol looks like the epitome of relaxed as the two of you converse, but what you don’t know is that there’s a storm running within him as he realizes what he has to do the longer he stares into your bright eyes.

You frown at the handsome man, leaning back into your seat with a pout on your lips. Seungcheol coos at you, reaching out to squeeze your cheek, and you slap his hand away. He lets out a hiss of pain even though it didn’t hurt, rubbing the back of his hand. You try not to peek, but when Seungcheol begins blowing on the area you hit, you can’t help but look up. 

You reach out and take his hand, and Seungcheol’s eyes widen when you pull it towards you, blowing softly on the back of his hand. Warmth rises to his cheeks, as do yours, but you both pretend that you’re not at all flustered by the action. After a moment, you glance up at Seungcheol, “Are you okay now?” 

He immediately looks away from the direct eye contact, feeling too shy to even sputter any words. You let out a smile at the sight, softly resting his hand back onto the table. Seungcheol mutters a quiet, thanks, and you chuckle, finishing the last of your boba. 

“I still think bigfoot is real.” You pettily mutter, and Seungcheol lets out a laugh. 

“In your dreams, yn.” 

Wonwoo watches from his table, pursing his lips at the sight of you and Seungcheol having gotten so close in a matter of a few weeks. He still doesn’t know anything about Seungcheol, having not done any research as of late. However, he leans back in his seat, now decided on what he has to do.

Seungcheol’s about to step into the boba shop when he’s grabbed by a hand and pulled into the alley. He immediately reaches for the gun in his waistband, only to freeze when he realizes that it’s no longer in his possession. His eyes slowly trail up, and he finds your bodyguard standing in front of him, his own silencer held in his hands, pointed directly towards Seungcheol’s head.

“So you work for Sunghoon, huh?” Wonwoo asks, not breaking eye contact with Seungcheol. Wonwoo did some digging, because he knew Seungcheol’s name was all too familiar. Which was when he discovered that Seungcheol is Sunghoon’s personal assassin. His boss’s rival mafia leader.

“You did a background check, Wonwoo?” Seungcheol asks, and the latter shrugs, chuckling darkly. 

“I can’t let yn get hurt.” Wonwoo states, squinting at the assassin standing before him. Seungcheol shakes his head, “I’m not going to kill yn.”

“Bullshit. You never pull back from a job, I saw it in my search on you.” Wonwoo exclaims, moving to turn the safety off when Seungcheol raises his hands up in surrender. “I’m really not. I plan to kill Sunghoon to protect yn.” 

Wonwoo’s eyes widen slightly, before squinting again. “And how do I know you’re not lying?” 

Seungcheol stares into Wonwoo’s eyes, hoping that his honesty shines through his gaze. He lets out a breath, “Cause I would’ve killed her by now. I know you did your research on me, you should know that all my victims died by my hand in 1-2 days after the assignment was given to me.”

Wonwoo does know that Seungcheol’s assignments would die in a matter of days when they were first presented. That’s why this information causes him to hesitate for a moment, but it doesn't make him remove his finger from the trigger. 

“What do you want with yn?” Wonwoo asks, and Seungcheol surprises the black haired man by giving him a small smile. 

“I want her to live peacefully like she is now. I want her to be happy.” 

The two stare each other down after Seungcheol’s confession, thinking to themselves. It’s after a minute or so that Wonwoo lets his arm fall to his side, turning the safety back on. Seungcheol almost sighs in relief, only to visibly pause when he catches Wonwoo still squinting at him. 

“So, what’s your plan?” Wonwoo asks, handing the silencer back to Seungcheol. He quickly puts it back in the waistband of his jeans, before giving your bodyguard an amused grin. “What? You gonna help me kill my own boss?” 

Wonwoo shrugs, finally cracking a smile. “It’ll keep yn safe, and it’ll also give me brownie points with my own boss. I don’t see why not.” 

Seungcheol chuckles, shaking his head. He leans back onto the brick wall of the alleyway, finding himself enjoying Wonwoo’s company even though he did almost die because of him. Seungcheol glances up at the dark sky, seeing the stars shining brightly. 

“I’m killing him at midnight.” He breathes out, and Wonwoo nods his head. He looks at his watch, seeing that it’s 8:50 pm, meaning you’ll be getting off your shift in a few minutes. So they have to wrap up this conversation soon.

“Well, you gonna pick me up later or what?” Wonwoo asks, and Seungcheol laughs quietly. He nods his head, glancing back down at the black haired man, finding him smiling as well. “Of course, it would be rude of me not to drive around the man who offered to help me kill a mafia leader.” 

“Ah yes, finally. A man with morals.”

Seungcheol and Mingyu step into the building, calmly walking towards the elevators to get to Sunghoon’s office. Wonwoo stayed behind in the car, where he’s currently hacking into the security system so that he can cut off the video feed when the deed is done. He’s already erasing the data of Mingyu and Seungcheol even being in the building in the first place.

“You think he’s gonna put up a fight?” Mingyu asks quietly, and Seungcheol scoffs. 

“Of course he is, but do you think he can win?” Mingyu ponders the question for a moment, before turning to Seungcheol and flashing him a mischievous smile. “Against the best assassin in Seoul? No.” 

“Checking the video feed now.” Wonwoo mutters into his mic, typing into his laptop. Seungcheol and Mingyu say a quick response back, continuing to walk towards the office.

Wonwoo goes through the video feed, trying to see if Sunghoon is just in his office like Seungcheol claimed he would be. Only to freeze when he sees who else is in the room with the powerful man. Wonwoo panics, immediately moving to speak into the mic when the connection gets cut out. 

“NO!” Wonwoo yells, watching with wide eyes as Mingyu and Seungcheol walk right into the room. 

Seungcheol and Mingyu look like the definition of ease when they step into the room, with Mingyu even cracking a smile at Sunghoon. Seungcheol opens his mouth to greet their boss, only to stop when he looks towards the chair by the desk, catching your frightened eyes.

There’s a towel stuffed in your mouth, preventing you from talking. There’s tear tracks on your cheeks, and your wrists are zip tied behind your back as you cry silently in fear. Sunghoon lets out a smile at the sight of his assassin standing in pure shock, head cocking to the side. 

“Took you too long to kill her, so I got impatient.” Sunghoon slyly explains, glancing over at you with a cheeky grin. You look away immediately, closing your eyes as more tears fall from them. You begin to regret letting Wonwoo go out for the night, or else you wouldn’t even be in this situation at the moment. 

“Yn, I need to be somewhere tonight. Is it okay if you stay home alone? I promise to be back in a couple hours.” Wonwoo tells you, and you peek your head out from the kitchen, glancing at the bodyguard who suddenly looks timid. You let out a happy smile, happy that Wonwoo is finally going out to do something. 

Since he was assigned to be your bodyguard, he hasn’t had a day or night to himself. Never even asked you for one, so obviously you’re going to let him. You nod your head, bouncing over to him with a big smile on your face, causing Wonwoo to raise an eyebrow at you. 

“Did you want me to leave that bad?” Wonwoo teases, and you slap his shoulder with a chuckle. 

“No! You just haven’t gone out without me since you became my bodyguard. Which was three years ago…” You trail off, having not realized how long it’s been. Wonwoo rolls his eyes, trying to hide the fact that the reason he’s going out is still for your safety. 

“Don’t pity me now. I enjoy my time with you, yn.” 

“Do you have friends, Wonwoo?” Wonwoo glares at you, having not appreciated the question. He slips on his shoes, turning and heading towards the door. You let out a laugh at his reaction, waving bye to him. 

“Remember to lock the door after I leave and turn on the alarm. Don’t answer the door, no one should even be knocking on it anyways. If anything happens, call me or your dad, okay?” You nod your head, and Wonwoo lets out a nervous breath. He glances up at you one more time, feeling his heart pound as he hopes you’ll be safe with him gone. 

“I’ll be back soon, yn.” And with that, Wonwoo walks out the door. 

It’s only within an hour of being alone that you hear a knock on your door, and you cautiously reach for your phone when you hear it again. Your hand wraps around your phone, only to freeze when you hear the locks turn and the door opens. You quickly run to your room, locking the door quietly behind you and rushing under your bed. You make sure the sheet underneath the mattress shields your body from view, before pulling out your phone in the cramped space. You move to text Wonwoo, only to freeze when you hear the doorknob jiggle. 

Your heart pounds against your chest, and you worry that the assailant can hear it from how silent it is in your apartment. You quickly turn on your phone, managing to pull up your conversation with Wonwoo when the door unlocks, and you freeze in fear. You turn off your phone so that the light won’t show from underneath your bed, and you stay as silent as you can as you hear the person’s shoes step around your bedroom. 

You watch as the person moves to walk out of your room, but you don’t dare make a sound until you can no longer hear their footsteps. You’re about to let out a quiet breath of relief, pulling up your phone to text Wonwoo when the person lifts up the sheet, staring directly at you with a smile on his face.

“Hello, yln yn.”

“Boss-” Seungcheol begins, only for Sunghoon to raise a hand up to stop him from speaking. The pieces slowly come together as to why he couldn’t get a dog, why he always redirected the conversation when asked about his life. Seungcheol catches your eyes, and he sees the betrayal in your gaze. He mouths that it’s going to be okay, and you look down at your legs, wanting nothing more than to leave. 

“Care to explain why I heard plans of you and Mingyu trying to kill me?” Sunghoon asks, eyes squinting at the two. Mingyu stiffens beside Seungcheol, and your eyes widen, beginning to wonder if Seungcheol is actually on your side. 

Seungcheol and Mingyu don’t respond for a second. With Mingyu internally panicking about whether or not he should lie, and Seungcheol pondering on how to answer the question. However, Seungcheol decides not to answer it, instead pulling out his silencer from his waistband in a matter of seconds, pointing it directly at his boss’s head.

Mingyu steps over to you as Seungcheol and Sunghoon stare each other down. You look at Seungcheol’s friend from the day they first stepped into the boba shop, and he gives you an apologetic smile. Mingyu reaches into his waistband, pulling out his knife, beginning to cut off your zip tie. “Sorry to meet you on such bad terms, Cheol has told me a lot about you.” 

“I didn’t believe it when I caught wind of the rumor. After all these years, you’re going to kill me just like that? Over our rival’s daughter?” Sunghoon asks, eyes not faltering from Seungcheol. He stands up from the table at Seungcheol’s silence, letting out a smile at the fact that Seungcheol hasn’t pulled the trigger.

“For yn?” Seungcheol begins, and you glance up at the blonde. He locks eyes with you for a moment, letting out a breath. Seungcheol turns back towards Sunghoon, squinting at the man. “Anything.” 

“You’re not really going to kill me for her, right Seungcheol?” 

Seungcheol lets out a breath, before turning the safety off the gun. You watch the confrontation unfold with wide eyes as Mingyu works on cutting the ropes wrapped around your legs and the chair. 

“I’ve always hated you.” Seungcheol mutters, pressing his finger to the trigger. Sunghoon raises an eyebrow, “You wish I just left you at that crack house where I found you? Seungcheol, I made you-”

“You made me into a monster!” Seungcheol shouts, hand shaking as he points the gun towards his boss’s head. Mingyu and you jump slightly at the raise of his voice, having not expected Seungcheol to lose his temper. Mingyu quickly takes off your gag, and you stand up from the chair, holding onto the back of Mingyu’s shirt as the two of you try to silently leave the room.

“You made me into a man that kills people, for your own gain.” Sunghoon listens in silence, watching Seungcheol's hand tremble. The blonde blinks back tears, feeling all the pain he’s hidden slowly pouring out as he stares at the man who practically raised him. He takes a deep breath, before applying more pressure to the trigger.

“That’s why I’m going to kill you for my own.” Seungcheol states, about to pull the trigger when Sunghoon knocks the gun out of his hands. Seungcheol reaches out to grab it quickly, but Sunghoon is faster as he kicks Seungcheol in the stomach unexpectedly, winding him in the process. Sunghoon grabs the gun in the short time that Seungcheol is out of it, and raises it into the air.

“Did you forget I taught you everything you know, Seungcheol?”

Seungcheol’s eyes stare at the gun pointed in his direction. You and Mingyu are frozen in place, with Mingyu’s hand resting over his own gun in the waistband of his pants. 

“Drop the gun onto the floor Mingyu, or else he dies.” Sunghoon threatens, and Mingyu glares. Seungcheol nods his head at Mingyu, and the latter slowly rests the gun onto the carpeted floor, before glancing back up at Sunghoon.

“Yn and Mingyu didn’t do anything, just kill me.” Seungcheol says, and Sunghoon shoots him a glance. He rolls his eyes, and you feel your breath hitch when he adjusts his hold on the gun.

“You’re right. However, remember what you learned?” Sunghoon asks, and Seungcheol feels his heart sink. The mafia boss chuckles at his silence, letting out a breath.”You know this Seungcheol, it’s the first thing I taught you when you were a kid. The loved ones always pay the price.” Sunghoon states, letting out a laugh at the harsh glare the blonde is throwing his way. He tilts his head to the side, before glancing over at you, finding delight in the fear on your face.

“Goodbye, yn.” 

Seungcheol shouts when Sunghoon quickly turns the gun in your direction, reaching out to stop him, while Mingyu moves to shield your body with his.

The loud sound of the gunshot echoes around the room, and you’re holding Mingyu’s shirt tightly in your hands. Your eyes slowly open at the sound of a body falling to the floor, and you look up to see Mingyu still standing safe and sound. Both of your eyes widen at the same time, and you turn to find Sunghoon slumped to the floor, blood pouring out of his lifeless body. 

You glance up to see Seungcheol staring at the door, and you turn your head to see Wonwoo standing there, gun held in his hands. He slumps onto the door frame, letting out a tired sigh.

“God damn it you guys. I told you to move in on my signal, yet when the connection cut out, the two of you still went inside.” Wonwoo complains, reaching his hand up and wiping away the beads of sweat that formed from sprinting all the way here. Seungcheol lets out a small chuckle, shaking his head. Mingyu lets out a breath of relief, walking over to Seungcheol to ask if he’s okay. All while you just stand there, suddenly realizing that there’s a dead body right in front of you. 

“O-oh my God.” You mutter as your vision slowly goes in and out, and Wonwoo’s eyes widen when he remembers that you’re incredibly sensitive to blood. Everything fades to black and you begin to fall, causing Wonwoo to take a step forward in an attempt to catch you.

However, Seungcheol’s faster as he runs over and wraps his arms around you, catching your passed out body before you hit the floor. He sighs, moving the strands of hair that rest on your face. He turns towards Wonwoo and Mingyu, finding them also feeling relieved at the fact that he caught you. 

Wonwoo lets out a breath after a moment, glancing over towards the dead body. He pulls out his phone and begins to take pictures, causing Mingyu to raise an eyebrow at the odd behavior. Seungcheol also stares at Wonwoo, but he knows why he’s documenting the experience.

“Don’t worry Mingyu, I’m just doing this so that my boss gives me brownie points.” Wonwoo mutters, before deciding that he’s taken enough. He quickly sends it to your father, before pocketing his phone and looking up at the three of you.

“Let’s bring yn home.” 

You wake up to the smell of fried rice, and you feel your stomach grumble at the scent. Letting out a sigh, you reach up and rub your eyes, only to freeze when all the memories from the night before resurface. You sit up in bed, only to pause when you register the hand gripping yours. You turn your head, finding the familiar head of blonde hair resting on the edge of your bed. 

“Cheol?” You murmur, wondering why he stayed with you as you slept. The question gets answered once you look up and see Wonwoo leaning against your doorframe, taking a bite of a strawberry as he gives you a small smile. 

“You were having nightmares on the way back, so Seungcheol wanted to stay by your side to make sure they weren’t too bad. Guess he fell asleep though.” Wonwoo explains, and you feel your heart warm slightly. You run a hand through your hair, suddenly feeling the need to vomit at the memory of Sunghoon’s dead body. 

Wonwoo’s way ahead of you, as he is now walking over with a garbage bag. You silently thank him, clutching the plastic with a tight fist as you try to forget the visual. Seungcheol stirs in his sleep, holding your hand a bit tighter as he pouts. The sight calms you down, and you let out a quiet coo. 

“Your dad plans to visit later to make sure that you’re okay, by the way.” You nod your head at the newfound information. For some reason, you never expected that getting kidnapped and almost murdered would get your father to come and visit you. 

but alas...

“Do you approve of Seungcheol, Wonwoo?” You ask quietly, choosing to let go of the plastic bag in order to softly pat Seungcheol’s sleeping head. Wonwoo shrugs, tilting his head to the side. 

“He killed his own mafia boss in order to protect you. I’d say that’s more than enough to consider him as a good guy.” Wonwoo answers, and you let out a smile. With that, Wonwoo walks out of the room, now out of earshot. 

“Wake up, you’ve been approved.” You mutter, patting Seungcheol’s head. He opens one eye, glancing up at you with a small smile. 

“How’d you know I was awake?” Seungcheol asks, and you shrug in response. It’s a trick you don’t think you want him to know yet. He lets out a smile, squeezing your hand once again. He lets out a tired yawn, letting go of your hand in order to stretch his arms above his head.

“What will happen to you and Mingyu now? You did kill a man who has a lot of power in South Korea after my father.” Seungcheol leans back into his seat, not wanting to remind you that Wonwoo was the one who actually killed Sunghoon in order to not let the image come back into your mind. 

“Mingyu and I did a lot of digging, that’s where we found out most of the people working under Sunghoon hated him. By most I mean around 90%, by the way.” Seungcheol explains, and you let out a quiet, ah. “So they were fine with you killing Sunghoon?” 

Seungcheol nods his head, “Precisely.” 

“What about the other ten percent?” You ask. Seungceol opens his mouth to respond, only to stop when he sees Mingyu and Wonwoo standing in the doorway. You raise an eyebrow at the sight of Mingyu wearing your apron, but you decide to close your eyes. 

“Breakfast is ready.” Mingyu announces, and the two flash you and Seungcheol a mischievous smile before stepping back out of your room. You let out a sigh, turning back towards Seungcheol. 

“Guess we’ll find out, mm? For now, let’s go and eat breakfast.” Seungcheol says, and you purse your lips, before nodding in agreement. You climb out of your bed, leading the way towards the dining table to find Mingyu and Wonwoo already eating without you two. 

“Rude, didn’t even wait for us.” You tease, and Wonwoo chuckles. 

“Not our fault you and the new mafia leader are slow.” Mingyu responds, taking a sip of his coffee. You squint at the latter, and he just flashes you a smile. 

“Ew, don’t call me that Mingyu.” Seungcheol mumbles, taking a bite of the fried rice that was prepared. 

“I’ll call you what I want to, leader.” 

“Fuck you.” 

“How could you say that in front of your future girlfrie-” 

And with that, Seungcheol launches himself across the table, causing the two to start wrestling on your wooden floor. Wonwoo and you let out a sigh, turning to each other and smiling. 

“What a strange breakfast.” You mutter, no hint of malice behind your smile as you and Wonwoo watch the two fake fight on the floor. You tilt your head, and Wonwoo lets out a sigh when he sees no sign of them stopping. 

“I’ll stop them.” Wonwoo mumbles, getting up from his chair and walking over to the two. He pats his elbow, then jumps onto them, eliciting a loud groan from Seungcheol and Mingyu. You giggle quietly, shaking your head and taking a sip of water at the chorus of complaints of how sharp Wonwoo’s elbow is from Seungcheol. 

You tried to get out of the mafia life your father lives by moving out. That obviously didn’t work as you have a new mafia leader on the floor of your dining room who saved your life the night before. However, the longer you stare at Seungcheol as he laughs with Mingyu and Wonwoo, you find yourself rather grateful for the events that unfolded since meeting Seungcheol. 

He turns and catches your gaze, immediately smiling at you. He waves you over so that you can help him up off the floor, and you roll your eyes. You stand up from the chair and walk over to him, extending your hand out towards the man. 

“Can’t even lift yourself up off the floor?” You tease, and Seungcheol rolls his eyes. He takes your hand, and you pull him up off the floor. 

“Gives me an excuse to hold your hand.” Seungcheol responds cheekily, and you scoff at his answer, although the rising warmth to your face clearly says otherwise. Mingyu and Wonwoo glance at each other, both taking turns to make vomit noises at the two of you. 

“Get a ROOM!” 

“Disgusting.” 

“Not my fault you guys are lonely!” You shout back, and Wonwoo squints at you. 

“It is your fault.”

“Shhh.”

“Yn!” 

“Wonwoo!” Seungcheol grins when you and Wonwoo begin to squabble, letting out a happy sigh. Mingyu stands up from the floor, letting out a sigh at the sight of you and Wonwoo arguing.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Mingyu yells, raising his hand up, causing you and Wonwoo to pause mid-argument. You both turn to glance at Mingyu, finding him and Seungcheol staring at the two of you with amused looks on their faces.

“Eat now, argue later.” Mingyu states, and you and Wonwoo share a look, before moving and sitting back down in your seats to continue eating. 

“It is your fault, by the way.” Wonwoo mutters, and you glare at him. Seungcheol snickers behind his hand, taking a spoonful of fried rice to stop the noise from escaping. 

“Fuck you, Wonwoo.”

“How could you say that in front of your future boyfr-” And with that, it’s now your turn to launch yourself across the table and onto Wonwoo. 

Mingyu lets out a tired sigh, choosing to ignore the loud bickering from behind him. While Seungcheol chuckles at the sight, finding himself at peace for the first time. 

seungcheol was finally able to save someone. 

You let out a giggle at Wonwoo’s pained expression from falling backwards onto the floor, and Seungcheol feels his heart warm from the sound.

and this time, it was you.

[rainydaydream-gal18]

The Mandalorian - Imagine Din Being Protective (Part 4)

Wow.  I got it done during a lunch break, and I’m so happy.  This is set near the end of Season 2.   It is pretty long, just a fair warning. 

Warnings: spoilers for near-end of Season 2, blasters, brief fighting.

   You watched the unusual exchange unfold before you before Mayfeld’s gaze swept over the group before flickering back to land on you.  He seemed to puff out his chest a little as he eyed you with interest.  “And who’s this lovely miss?”  Wonderful.  Just fantastic.

   Over the last several days, you learned that the Empire had been steadily recuperating behind the scenes.  The Razor Crest had been obliterated in the matter of seconds.  But worst of all, the Grogu was taken.  It was like one giant nightmare that you were waiting to wake up from, only to find yourself lying in a cot aboard the Razor Crest.  But you didn’t.  Instead, you were standing in the middle of a junkyard to recruit a prisoner who could help locate the child.  

   Now to top it off, this scruffy guy was hitting on you?

   You gave him a look, arms folded across your chest.  “The name is _________.”

   “Yeah?  Nice name for a nice girl.”

   Cara Dune made a fake wincing sound.  “I would back off if I were you.”

   He gave a shrug.  “I don’t hear her complaining.”

   “You better hope she doesn’t,” Cara taunted, giving him a warning look.  

   Mayfeld narrowed his eyes.  “Or what?  The Mandalorian is going to shoot me?”  He gave a laugh, shaking his head at the idea.

   “Thinking about it,” Din sighed in annoyance, the beskar chestplate rising and falling dramatically with the gesture.  He stood, hand resting on his belt in a casual stance just across from you, completely unaware of how content you were observing him in moments like this.  A part of you wondered if his annoyance with Mayfeld stemmed from his past experience working with the man, or if even a small part was because of the obvious flirt attempt he made at you.

   The prisoner’s eyes widened and brows lifted incredulously as he gestured to you.  “What, is this your girl now?  Finally got over Xi’an, eh?”

   You tried to keep the surprise and curiosity from your expression at the mention of this female, but your eyes instinctively darted to Din, whose visor was still glued to Mayfeld and refused to look your way.  The man caught this subtle expression and smirked.

   “Oops, sorry,” he shrugged with mock regret.  “Didn’t tell her about the ex, I guess.  I’ll try and keep things on the down-low then until you have a chance to talk about it.”

   You hadn’t asked Din too much about his past.  He expressed his disdain for the way he used to be, so you figured it was something best left untouched until he was ready to speak more on the subject.  Of course you didn’t want to assume that he had never had a love interest before, but he seemed so closed-off when you met him.  It was hard to imagine anyone could melt that ice.  Unless this Xi’an was something special.

   You felt a twinge in your chest.  It was like jealousy walked through the front door unannounced and picked a place to crash for a while.  It wasn’t taking over, but could be bothersome if you paid too much attention.  So you decided not to.  There were too many other things to worry about.

   “Alright, let’s get moving,” Cara said impatiently.  “We’re wasting time.”

   You boarded Boba Fett’s ship, taking your seat as the others did. The new ally began the take-off, and several seconds passed in silence before Din spoke up.  Mayfeld scoffed at the idea of obtaining coordinates to Moff Gideon’s ship.  Cara sighed and informed him that the kid was taken.

   The kid.  The child.

   Your little baby.  You kept seeing his face, his tiny green features and big brown eyes.  You pictured him happy as he sipped some broth and smiled at you.  Or the time shortly after you learned from the former jedi that his name was Grogu.  You and Din spent the afternoon calling him that and sharing laughs at how his ears perked.  The image was replaced with the most recent memory you had of him, when he was ripped right from your arms by strange droids at the seeing stone. You glanced down at your arms, heart sinking.  The bruises those droids left had already healed from bacta patches, but your arms had never felt so empty.

   Your thoughts were interrupted by Din’s disbelieving tone.  “Morak?  There’s nothing on Morak.”

   “It’s a secret Imperial mining hub, okay?”  Mayfeld replied.  “If you can get me in there, I can get you the coordinates.”

   Silence fell over the group again.  Cara glanced your way, looking as if she wasn’t sure whether to believe the prisoner or not.  You gave a shrug.  This was Din’s idea, and if he thought it would work, you trusted him.

   Din commed Boba.  “Fett, punch in the coordinates to Morak.”

   “Copy that.”

----------

   “I did an initial scan of the planet,” Boba said.  “This is what you’re talkin’ about, right?”

   Mayfeld gave a nod, pointing to the holomap.  “Yeah, that’s the refinery right there.”

   “Wonder what they’re refining in there,” Fennec mused.

   “Looks like rhydonium.  Highly volatile and explosive.”

   “Yeah, kinda’ like this one, huh?”  Mayfeld chuckled, gesturing to Cara.

   From where you stood, you could see Boba’s look of unamusement and practically feel Din’s annoyance as the two stared at him.  That sight almost made you laugh, but the situation wasn’t exactly a laughing matter.

   The group speculated on the measures the Empire had taken to keep its refinery secure.  It didn’t sound like getting in would be very easy.  Fortunately, between a criminal, three bounty hunters, a New Republic officer, and you, a pretty decent plan was cooked up.  They were going to hijack a delivery truck and infiltrate the refinery that way.

   The question was, who?  Who was going to hop into the truck with Mayfeld?

   As it turned out, neither Cara nor Fennec could.  The ex-ISB had rigged the scanners, and both of them would be recognized in the database.  Even Boba couldn’t, and while the others stared at him in confusion, you chuckled under your breath.  You even heard a hint of amusement in his tone as he said that they might recognize his face.

   “Great, so it’s me going in alone,” Mayfeld shrugged.

   “No way,” Cara protested.  “The minute he gets inside, he’ll tip ‘em off.  He’ll be a hero.”

   “Hey, this wasn’t my idea,” he pointed out, offended.  “I’m doin’ you guys a favor.”

   “I can go.”  You spoke up much quieter than you intended, and the bickering didn’t stop, so you tried again.  “I can go with Mayfeld.”  At that, the conversations around you came to a halt as they considered the idea.  Cara nodded, impressed, while Mayfeld eyed you curiously.

“You, uh, sure you can handle it?”  He folded his arms.

“I’ve been traveling with Mando for a while now, and I’ve helped him and Cara on multiple occasions,” you told him.  “I think I can handle walking in there and laying low while you get the coordinates.”

He held his hands up in understanding.  “Well, okay.  I think it’ll work.”

You stole a glance at Din to see his visor already fixed on you.  It was that stare.  The protective one that made you feel safe from everything else, yet vulnerable to him.  It was like the air was stolen from your lungs for just a moment.  You figured he would protest, but you hadn’t expected what he’d say next.

“I’ll go,” Din volunteered.

   Mayfeld’s gaze traveled to him, and he scoffed.  “Hey buddy, I might be good at fast-talking, but I don’t think I can explain away a guy in a Mando suit to Imperial guards.  So unless you’re gonna’ take off that helmet, it’s gonna’ be me and _________ heading in there.  Or say goodbye to your little green friend.”

   “That’s not an option,” you argued, feeling the pain well up at his words.  You couldn't imagine what Grogu was going through, even now as the lot of you debated how this situation was going to play out.  You didn’t want to think about it, but you kept seeing him reaching for you.

   Din’s words drew the gazes of the entire group.  “__________ isn’t going in there.  I’m coming with you instead.  But I won’t show my face.”

   “No, Mando, even if you’re going, I’m going too.”  You blinked away the tears that had just started to blur your vision, fortunately catching them before they fell, and looking at him with resolve.  “I can’t stand by and do nothing.  Not with our baby being held by the Empire.”

   It was suddenly quiet.  Much too quiet.  And that’s when you realized your mistake.  You hadn’t called Grogu the baby.  Or even just his baby.  You had definitely used the word our.  It made you want to vanish into the jungle- especially when you took in how the group was looking at you.  Cara’s lips parted in a surprised smirk as she tipped her head slightly.  Fennec raised a brow, though her expression didn’t betray her intrigue in any other way.  Even Boba Fett’s eyes seemed to soften; whether it was over your expression of care for the child or out of pity at your slip-up, you weren’t sure.  You didn’t even want to look at Din, but you found yourself staring into his visor, searching for some indication of his feelings on the matter.  There was nothing, just silence.  Mayfeld sighed, though it didn’t sound like exasperation.  It almost sounded sympathetic.

   “Look, typically for a delivery like this, there’s only two troops,” he pointed out, scratching the back of his head awkwardly.  You looked to him, glad for the attention to be taken off of you.  He caught your pleading gaze and let out another sigh.  “It’s uncommon, but not unheard of.  I think we can get by with the three of us.  But you gotta’ lay low, like you said.”  He pointed at you, and you nodded.  “Alright.  We’ve got to go.”

   The nerves were building up in your chest as you, Cara, Din, and Mayfeld dropped onto the juggernaut.  This wasn’t like going undercover at the cantina.  This was a whole other experience entirely, but you felt ready.  Before long, the two troops were taken out, and their armor taken away.

   Din disappeared around a corner to change out of his Mandalorian armor and into the Imperial trooper gear.  Mayfeld complained about the smell of his newly acquired armor, and you were grateful to be wearing the spares that were tucked away.  You found a spot on the juggernaut to slip the armor on.  It wasn’t built for a female, so it wasn’t the best fit.  Still, it would have to work.

   Suddenly, Mayfeld chuckled.  “Look at this.”  You peeked your head out of the juggernaut to see what looked like a trooper approaching, but you knew to be Din.  “Oh, the shame.  Now that right there is worth the price of admission.”

   “Wish I could say it looked good on you,” Cara said, smirking.  “But I’d be lying.”

   Din ignored her statement.  “Just make sure you take out the rooftop gunners, or we’re never getting out of there.”

   “We got you.”

   “Take care of this.”  Din handed her the duffel with his Mandalorian armor.  “Keep it safe.”  As Cara took it, she assured him with a sincere look that she would.  You knew she would.  Like you, she knew what it meant to him.

   “Hey guys. Still on the clock,” Mayfeld reminded them.  “Me and _________ are all ready to go.  Right?”  He leaned over and gave your boot a nudge from where he sat.

   You shrugged and were glad to pull the trooper bucket over your head.  For once, you could be the mysterious face under the helmet.  “I’m ready when you’re ready.”  Not to mention your voice sounded pretty cool in the modulator.  Such a shame that it was a stormtrooper helmet because you could get used to this.

   While Mayfeld was busy taunting Din in an unsuccessful attempt to get a reaction, you looked to Cara.  

   “Wish me luck.”

   “Oh, I will.”  She shot a glance at the chatty man.  “Considering the company you’re going to have.”  Then she looked back at you with that smirk from before.  “So what was that about earlier?”

   You pulled the Imperial bucket off your head so that the modulator wouldn’t broadcast your voice.  “I don’t know what happened, Cara.  I can’t believe I said that.  We’re definitely more than travelling companions at this point.  I care a lot about him. I think I even... ”

   She nodded, smirk becoming a more reassuring smile.  “I understand.  It seems like he feels the same about you.”

   “Still, I’m afraid that I overstepped in calling Grogu our child.”  You shook your head.  “He hasn’t spoken to me since.”

   “Well there’s not a whole lot of time to talk, and it’s the kinda’ thing that takes time to sort out,” she pointed out.  “I’m sure it’ll be fine-”

   “Hey, if you two ladies are done, we have to get moving,” Mayfeld called.

   “Yeah, yeah,” you groaned, pulling the helmet over your head again.  You clambered into the front of the juggernaut to get situated.  The two guys were already seated and taking a look at the vehicle’s controls.  Mayfeld seemed content to be with his helmet off, while Din of course kept his on.

   “Feels better when it’s off,” he commented, glancing over at his companion.  Din’s trooper helmet simply turned to look in his direction.  He gave a smile in response before turning his attention to the road again.  “__________, you too, huh?”

   “I don’t ever get to wear a helmet, so I’m just enjoying this while it lasts.”

   “You’re enjoying this?” Din asked.  His tone didn’t seem to carry any disdain, just innocent curiosity.

   “Well, not this.  I mean the helmet.  It’s nice to have some privacy when I’m surrounded by people who get to cover their faces.  You guys don’t know whether I’m smiling or what in here.”

      “You’re smiling right now,” Din said, making you turn your visor in his direction suddenly.

   “How did you know that?”

   “I can hear it in your voice.”  And as if to prove his point, you picked up on the amusement in his tone as well.

   Right.  You forgot for a moment that he had a lifetime to discern emotions through helmets, being that he was a foundling in a Mandalorian community and all.

   “You know, you two are just adorable,” Mayfeld interjected humorously.  “Seriously, I’m touched.”

   The conversation died down again after that.  You were rather pleased with the exchange you had with Din.  At the very least, he didn’t seem irritated with you about your earlier statement.  Things seemed to be going rather smoothly.

- - - - - - - - - 

   You’d never been so happy to see Imperial troops in your whole life.  As Mayfeld pulled the juggernaut into the safety of the Empire base, they flooded the bridge and fought off the oncoming pirates.  Din had re-entered the vehicle, groaning in pain from his fight.  You noticed his armor had been busted off in some places from the fight.

   “Mando,” you said softly, hand on his forearm.  

   His visor looked to you as he said in a strained voice, “I’m alright.”  His reassurance put you somewhat at ease.  You knew he wasn’t really fine- he had injuries- but he was okay.  He made it.

   “Never thought you’d be happy to see stormtroopers.”  Mayfeld saluted the line of troops that saluted and waved as the vehicle passed by, most likely to make things convincing.  He and Din stepped out of the juggernaut to be met with actual applause and cheers.  One even clapped a gloved hand on Mayfeld’s shoulder in congratulations.  It would have been heartwarming if not for the fact that it was the Empire, and these people were working toward an oppressive future.  You hopped out of the vehicle, glad to be on solid ground and not on a shaky roadtrip with rhydonium in the back.

   “Okay,” Mayfeld said.  “All we gotta’ do is find a terminal.”  You moved to Din’s other side, and the three of you began making your way through the crowd of cheering troops.  His gloved hand took yours for just a moment and gave it a light squeeze, and you returned the gesture before separating.  “Should be in the officers’ mess.”

   “I’ll stand by and keep an eye out,” you said.

   “Good,” Mayfeld nodded.  “We’ll make it quick.”  You watched as the two men headed for the mess hall, and you found a spot along the wall to wait, bucket tucked under your arm.  The occasional trooper stopped by to congratulate you or give you a pat on the back.  This extended contact with Imperials was starting to get to your nerves.  

   Mayfeld and Din still hadn’t returned.  Whether you were being paranoid or not, you weren’t sure.  Better to play it safe.  You headed in the direction they had gone earlier, helmet still under your arm, and tried to act casual.  Mayfeld was standing at the doorway, eyes shifting between the floor and his surroundings.  No sign of Din.

   “Where is he?” you demanded.  “Is he okay?”

   “He’s in there.”

   You followed his gaze to the mess.  Everyone in the room had their helmet off.

   “I don’t see him.”

   Mayfeld sighed.  “He’s over there by the terminal.”  Both of you leaned in to sneak a glance, and you gasped softly.  You saw his form standing there in the very back, head of messy brown hair.  “I couldn’t go in.  He had to do a facial scan to get the information.”

   “You could’ve gotten me to do it.”

   “That’s exactly what I said.”  He shook his head.  “But we wasted enough time as it is.  He was worried about you going in there alone.  You know, he’d really do anything for that kid, and for you.”

   Oh, Din.

   “Trooper,” an officer said, and his eyes were fixed on the dark-haired man in the corner that you knew was the man you’d fallen for.  He rose from his seat, and your heart was pounding.

   “We need to do something,” you said.

   Mayfeld shook his head, eyes on the floor.  “I can’t.  I already said can’t go in there.”

   “Fine, I’ll do it.”  You straightened up, taking a deep breath, and quickly walked through the mess until you intervened the officer’s path.  “Sir.  You called for me, sir?”

   He paused, eyes narrowing, as he stared at you.  “I was referring to another trooper.  The one by that terminal.”  He moved to get around you, but you side-stepped to block him again.  “I’m sorry, you’re sure there’s nothing I can help you with?”

   He gave you a condescending look.  “No, but thanks anyway.”

   You hoped that Din had escaped the mess because there was nothing more you could do unless you caused a big scene, which was not in the plan.

   “Trooper,” he continued, stepping around you.  But to your surprise, he was faced with another.  Din had walked over.  Inwardly you burned at the thought of the Imperial officer looking at his face.  You averted your gaze, feeling as if it would be wrong not to.  Even though you wanted nothing more than to drink in his features while you could.  

   “You should pay attention when a superior officer addresses you,” the man said.  He tipped his head to one side in observation.  “What’s your designation?”

   Din spoke, voice unmodulated and sounding so small.  You’d never heard him sound so unsure before.  “Transport crew.”

   “What?” 

   “My designation is transport copilot,” Din said, forcing his tone to sound confident as possible to make it more convincing.  

   “No, son,” the officer chided.  “What’s your TK number?”

   “My TK number is…” He hesitated, and you could do nothing but stand aside and wait, holding your breath.  How many numbers were in a TK number, anyway?

   “This is my commanding officer, TK-593, sir,” Mayfeld’s voice interjected as he strolled in front of you.  He spoke so casually that you were sure he’d pull it off.  “I’m Imperial Combat Assault Transport Lieutenant Tk-111, sir.”  He gestured to you.  “This is TK-501.”  Then, he glanced at Din.  “I’m afraid you’ll have to speak up to him a bit since his vessel lost pressure in Taanab.”

   Your eyes wandered past Mayfeld, catching another glimpse of dark, messy hair.  To some it might seem a minor thing, but to you it was adding to the escalating situation.  Brown eyes locked with yours, and your breath hitched.  Din was looking at you.  There was a trace of warmth in his eyes, and your hesitation vanished.  You took in the way his brows furrowed slightly over his eyes, crinkling them at the edges.  You memorized each feature.  His nose.  This cheekbones.  The handsome way he seemed to be looking right back you.  You quickly turned your gaze back to the officer in front of you who looked in Din’s direction.

   “What’s your name, officer?” he belted, enunciating each word.  Seeing Din’s face had been a shock, and in the middle of the stress, this officer’s behavior almost made you laugh, but you swallowed the giggle that threatened to make things worse and kept your composure.  The officer leaned in, waiting for a response.

   Mayfeld took the liberty of answering instead.  “We just call him ‘Brown Eyes.’  Isn’t that right, Officer?”  Din’s eyes flickered over as he gave a hesitant nod.

   “Come on,” Mayfeld landed a hand on his shoulder and his other one on yours to lead you away.  “Let’s go fill out those TPS reports, so we can go recharge the power coils...”

   “You’re not dismissed.”

- - - - - - -

   In short, things had gone from bad to worse.  Mayfeld was growing shakier by the minute as this guy ranted about the Empire and the sacrifices that were made so far.  You kept glancing at Din, who looked just as concerned as you, as Mayfeld visibly became more distressed.

   Finally he raised a blaster and shot the sick man across the table.  It turned into a firefight that ended just as swiftly as it began.  Once the mess hall had quieted, Mayfeld handed Din his trooper helmet.

   “You did what you had to do,” he said.  “I never saw your face.”

   Din stared at him for a moment before accepting the helmet.  He quickly put it back over his head just as more troopers arrived on the scene.  You sprung into action, pulling out the blaster at your belt and firing.

   From there, it was just a quaint little trip out the window and along a ledge above roaring waters of the refinery with several stormtroopers in pursuit.  Shots were fired.  You ran.

   It wasn’t until you were pulled further onto Boba’s ship by Din that you were able to stop and breathe.  Mayfeld was set free by Cara and Din after he blew up the Imperial refinery, and after he left, Boba set a course for Moff Gideon’s ship.  For the first time in a while, you and Din had a moment alone as he found the duffel bag of Beskar armor.  He paused as if thinking it over, before setting the duffel back down.  The stormtrooper visor was focused on you again.  You had long removed yours, and so you gazed back with your own eyes.  Suddenly, he placed a hand on either side of his helmet and slowly began to lift.

   “Din,” you whispered, quiet enough so no one else would hear, as you gently stopped him with the touch of your hand to his wrist.  He let go of the helmet only to put his hand over yours.

   “You need to know,” he began.  “About Xi’an.”

   “What?  No, no, there’s no need.”

   “I could tell it bothered you.”

   “Well, yes… Mayfeld made it sound like she was rather important, like you just finally got over her, and it bothered me that you never mentioned her.”  You shook your head.  “But I guess there was no reason for you to.”

   “There was nothing to get over,” he said simply.  “We flirted here and there.  It wasn’t anything real.  It wasn’t love.  I think Mayfeld was just bitter because you weren’t responding to his attempts.”  The chuckle that emitted from Din’s stormtrooper helmet made you smile.  It was a sound that you never imagined getting used to.

   You couldn’t help the sigh of relief that escaped your lips.  “Thank you.”

   “For what?”

   “For talking with me,” you replied.  “I was worried that after earlier you were irritated.”

   “Earlier?” His tone went higher ever so slightly in realization.  “Oh, right.  Your turn to talk.”

   “My turn?” you gulped.  “No way.  Let’s just forget it happened.”

   You could almost hear the amusement as he tipped his head, the visor staring at you in silence.

   You sighed in defeat, observing your hands as you fiddled with the stormtrooper gloves.  “Alright, well...the truth is, it sort of slipped out.  I think of the kid as yours because, well, you’ve been looking after him since before I met you.  And the Mandalorian we spoke to said that you are as his father, by creed.”  You paused, glancing up at his visor before continuing.  “But...I’ve also come to think of him as my own as well.  When I met the two of you, of course I thought he was a cute little guy, but I never imagined I could love someone so much.  I adore Grogu, really, even though I haven’t cared for him as long as you…”

   “That does not matter.”

   “What?”

   “It doesn’t matter that I’ve known him longer.  You care about him, and that’s what’s important,” Din nodded.

   “I do care about him.  As my own.  And with the two of us…”

   His visor was so close all of a sudden.  “The two of us…?”

   You ducked a little, recalling how he embraced you on that planet after a tense training session.  “You know.”

   “Do I?” he teased in a low voice, helmet even closer.

   “With the two of us together, sort of, I guess I thought of us as a family...I guess.  And it slipped out earlier.  In front of all those people.”  You raised a hand to cover your face in embarrassment at the memory.  Din didn’t say anything for a moment.  He reached up to pull your hand from your face gently, and with the other he lifted the stormtrooper helmet off with a deep breath.

   As you peered into those brown eyes once more, you smiled.  He smiled too then, the movement making his eyes crinkle.  It was a lovely sight, and you lifted a hand, pausing just below his chin.

   “Is it okay?”

   He gave a small nod, and you reached up to touch his cheek.  It was a little stubbly toward his jawline.  Then you went up to start at the crease between his brows and trace down the length of his nose to his lips.  He tenderly took that hand in his and kissed the fingertips.

   “We’re going to get him back,” he said.

   You smiled again.  “I know we will.”  Then, your smile faded.  “And if we find where he belongs, with a jedi, then I am prepared to do what’s best for him.”

   His eyes look sad as he responded, “me too.”

   “For now,” you said quickly.  “Next stop is Moff Gideon’s ship.  We are going to take him down and get Grogu back.”

   With that, Din leaned in and planted a feathery light kiss on your lips.  It was something you had not expected since the moment you first laid eyes on the Mandalorian.  You never imagined that you’d end up with him, seeing his face, or kissing him.  You returned the kiss, touching his cheek again as you let him pull you closer, wrapping both arms around you.

   The last few days had felt like a nightmare that you hoped to wake up from.  But now it seemed that even in the darkness there was a glimmer of hope.  The nightmare would give way to a dream.

[morganaspendragonss]

Hello! Fic request please. Okay, so TK and Carlos never got together. During the Boba date, TK let Carlos know that they should be friends and Carlos understood. So they became good friends but TK just self sabotages a lot so he loved Carlos then but didn't want to let Carlos in so he thought it better to just let him go and settle for a friendship. So one day, they decide to check out this new place for lunch. TK excuses himself for the bathroom and he hears this huge explosion and feels the impact. When he gets out, it's a fiery mess. All that is on his mind: I have to find Carlos. Even when the 126 respond to the explosion, TK refuses to leave until he has found Carlos. Carlos is found unconscious, injured and with severe smoke inhalation. 📍

holly's august extravaganza day 13: couldn't utter my love when it counted

thank you! you've given me such wonderful prompts and it's been a pleasure to write every single one of them! 💚😊

ao3 | 3k | canon divergence, explosions, major character injury, angst with a happy ending, love declarations

TK has made a lot of mistakes in his life, but undoubtedly one of the biggest was letting Carlos Reyes go. He hates the person he was back then, the one who was too blind to see that what he needed—what he wanted—was right in front of him, in a very literal sense.

“How long are you going to avoid talking about it TK?”

“Us?”

“What are we? Are we even a ‘we’?”

TK wants to say yes. He looks at Carlos with his soulful brown eyes and kind tilt to his mouth and he just knows that this is someone he could let in. He’s already seen some of TK’s darkest depths, and yet he’s still here, still asking, still wanting to be with him.

Then again, Carlos isn’t the only one who has been with him despite, and the last person who did that ended up growing tired of him. Carlos would promise against it if he knew what TK was thinking, but it’s an impossible promise to make, far easier said than done. He isn’t that kind of person, TK knows this—but then, neither was Alex, until he was.

He can’t risk it. Besides, he barely recognises his life anymore, and he can’t ask Carlos to hang around indefinitely until he can get his head in order again. If there’s one thing TK is certain of, it’s that Carlos is a good man, and he doesn’t deserve to have to deal with all of TK’s bullshit, however much TK may want it.

So. That’s it.

“I like you, Carlos. I want to get to know you better. But as friends. I’m not in a place for a relationship—I don’t know if this is where I belong, or even if I can be a firefighter anymore. And I just. I just think that I have to work out who I am before I can let someone else in on that, you know? So… Can we? Be friends, I mean?”

Carlos would be well within his rights to say no, after all. But instead he smiles, a little sad, but still as gentle as ever, and says, “Sure. I’d love that.”

TK realised three things pretty quickly after that moment.

One: Austin is his home.

Two: He belongs at the firehouse—but as a paramedic.

And three: He is in love with Carlos Reyes.

But his moment has come and gone. That conversation is the kind that can’t be taken back; the damage has been done, and now TK has to live with the consequences. It’s not all bad—he still has Carlos in his life, and things are… Things are good. They hang out regularly, they have an ongoing text thread, there’s no awkwardness or resentment between them. All things considered, they’re in a better place than they were back during their pseudo-dating phase.

But still, TK misses him.

It’s a strange feeling, missing someone who’s right there beside him. TK hadn’t realised how much he would lose when they became ‘just friends’ for real, but now he finds himself noticing more and more the absence of a flirty twinkle in Carlos’s eye or the suggestive lilt to his words. There’s still an air around them, a sense that, if he just pushed a little, they could easily tip over into more. Into whatever they were on their way to becoming before TK drew his line in the sand.

He won’t, though. It wouldn’t be fair—Carlos has already put up with so much from him that it’s a miracle he’s even still around at all—and TK is not willing to risk what is now the best friendship of his life. If having Carlos in his life means keeping his hands to himself and forever refusing the urge to kiss him senseless, then it’s a small price to pay.

*

“You’re such an ass!” TK shoves Carlos lightly as they walk down the street, rolling his eyes at the smirk sent his way. “Why can’t you just suck it up and accept that maybe you don’t know Austin as well as you think you do?”

Carlos raises a solitary eyebrow. “Because I’ve lived here my entire life?”

“That doesn’t mean anything. Besides,” he cuts in, before Carlos can come back with some other stupid, logical argument, “this place only popped up a few months back so there’s no way you’ve had enough time to make a proper judgement.”

“And you have?”

“Shut up.”

Carlos laughs and, though TK tries to glare at him, he can’t help but be drawn into it. He shakes his head and looks down to avoid Carlos’s eyes, only for his gaze to catch on their hands, swinging in sync mere centimetres apart. How he aches to close that distance and thread their fingers together; to tell Carlos everything he’s been pushing down for months—

Carlos lifts his hand to run his fingers through his hair, and the moment is broken. If he noticed TK’s lapse, then he doesn’t show it, instead turning to him with an amused smile. “Alright,” he says, “how about this? You take me wherever this is, and next time, I’ll take you to the actual best pizza place in Austin; then we’ll see who’s right.”

TK wishes he could kiss that self-satisfied smirk off his face. See how smug he is then.

“Fine,” he agrees. “Prepare to eat your words, Reyes.”

“Looking forward to it.”

God, TK hates him.

*

Carlos is being infuriatingly quiet as they eat, and it’s grating on TK’s every nerve. TK is well aware he’s doing it for that exact purpose, but he’s never been known for his patience—a fact which Carlos knows all too well and is rudely taking advantage of.

“So?” TK demands, folding his arms on the tabletop. “Was I right, or was I right?”

Carlos hums, pretending to consider the slice in his hand with great care. Then, he meets TK’s eyes and drops it back on the plate, re-settling in his seat with a shit-eating grin. “It was okay.”

TK’s mouth drops open. He blinks at Carlos for a good few seconds, then snaps his jaw shut with a click, shaking his head and sighing. “I hate you,” he grumbles, refusing to look Carlos in the eye.

Carlos has the audacity to actually laugh. “No, you don’t,” he says, and he doesn’t know quite how true that is. TK feels a blush start to rise on his cheeks, which cannot happen, so he clears his throat and slides out of his seat.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” he says. “Maybe you’ll have reconsidered by the time I come back.”

TK can’t stop a grin from forming the second he turns his back, his heart doing a stupid little dance in his chest. He doesn’t need a mirror to know that his face is bright red, and he’s going to have to splash a significant amount of water over him before he can even think about facing Carlos again.

He takes his time in the bathroom, stopping to stare at his reflection in the mirror for several minutes and trying to talk himself down from any more-than-friendly feelings towards Carlos.

Later, they’ll tell him that this saved his life.

But that won’t be for a long time, until after the smoke has cleared and the dead have been counted and the statements have been taken.

For now, TK steels his resolve and nods at himself, then turns to the door, a hand reaching out for the handle.

That’s when the explosion rips through the building.

*

He’s floating.

He’s… He doesn’t… Something’s not right. Something…

Underwater. He can’t hear anything and he’s floating and he’s underwater, except he can’t be because he was just in a restaurant with Carlos and they were talking and—and—

The world slams back into him with the force of a freight train and TK coughs as he instantly feels like his entire body is being compressed, his airways closing up. It takes a few seconds to realise his eyes are closed and several more before he can open them, only to be met with even more darkness.

He blinks—so he definitely has opened them—but he still can’t see a damn thing. Is he… He can’t be blind. He can’t.

TK’s chest tightens even further and the panic causes his limbs to twitch, to scrabble at the ground, and the movements must be enough to dislodge something because suddenly there’s light streaming into his eyes. He slams his eyelids shut instinctively, and it’s a long moment before he can crack them open again.

His surroundings come to him in bits and pieces. To his left, a pile of cracked porcelain—the sink, he realises. The floor glitters with a material TK can’t identify until he catches sight of his reflection in a shard of glass just in front of him. And on top of him, something heavy, rough—wood?

The door!

Slowly, agonisingly, he manages to shift to all fours, then to his knees, then finally staggers to his feet. He sways in place, watching the bathroom door hit the floor, and—that’s strange. It doesn’t make a sound.

He can’t hear anything, actually, aside from a faint, high-pitched ringing. The paramedic in him tells him that this is a bad thing, but he feels separate from both his brain and his body; he’s floating somewhere outside his body, this whole situation feeling like a dream, or perhaps a nightmare.

A thought drifts through his mind then. No, not a thought, a name.

Carlos.

He was with Carlos. He has to find Carlos.

TK stumbles forward, grabbing onto anything within reach as the battle to stay upright gets harder with each second that passes. An intense heat hits him as he makes it into what he thinks is the main seating area and the change in atmosphere is instant—thick, black smoke invades his lungs, sending him back to his knees, body heaving with coughs.

The restaurant is on fire and TK can barely keep his eyes open as he searches for any sign of Carlos. He forces his aching body further, any pain taking a back-seat as the need to find Carlos grows. He’s still not sure what’s happening or how they got in this mess, but he knows that Carlos is in danger, and TK isn’t going to let him die. Not now. Not ever, if he can help it.

He crawls through the restaurant, blind and deaf to where he’s going, but he’ll know it’s Carlos when he finds him. He knows he will. There’s nothing that could stop him from recognising Carlos.

TK doesn’t know what’s happening when he suddenly feels himself being lifted, something bulky being placed over his face. It’s a shock, the sensation of being able to breathe clean oxygen, and it goes to his head for a moment, the dizziness growing even as his vision begins to clear up.

He catches sight of 126 emblazoned on a helmet and familiar, worried eyes looking down at him, and that’s when it connects. His family are here, they’re here, but Carlos is still somewhere and TK is not leaving without him. He struggles in his father’s grasp, managing to squirm and flail enough to get his feet on the floor and for his dad’s grip on him to falter.

But the relief is momentary; no sooner is he standing than the vertigo and nausea takes over, and he crumbles.

This time, when the world goes black, it stays that way.

*

They tell him it was a gas explosion in the restaurant’s kitchen. They say he’s lucky to be alive, that his trip to the bathroom saved him. They say he needs plenty of rest and time to heal.

They don’t tell him anything about Carlos.

TK asks, he’s been asking since the moment he woke up in the hospital. But the team knows nothing and the doctors keep saying to focus on his own injuries rather than worrying about someone else.

Someone else, as if that’s all Carlos is. He’s the love of TK’s fucking life, but they might never get the chance to be anything more than friends; TK has seen the news. His dad had switched it off the second he caught him watching it, but he’d seen enough to know that survivors are few, and, of those, most of them weren’t as lucky as TK.

His injuries were serious, but they’ll heal. He’ll probably have scars from the shrapnel from when the explosion first went off and from the burns he acquired looking for Carlos, and he’s going to have one hell of a tinnitus case for a while, but it’s nothing. Less than nothing.

He’s alive, which, if Carlos is dead or dying, is far more than he deserves.

*

On his fifth day in hospital, they tell him he can go home later. He should be grateful, but it just feels like another thing that’s happened to him in a long line of things. He’s waiting for his dad to come back from picking his prescription up when there’s a knock at the door, and TK looks up to see an older Latino couple, the woman looking at him with a deep sadness in her eyes.

“I… Are you TK?” she asks haltingly.

TK frowns and nods, surprised by the relief that floods her face when he does. He doesn’t have to wonder for long, though.

“I’m Andrea. Carlos’s mother. This is his father, Gabriel.” She gestures to the man next to her, who nods at TK, his mouth pinched. TK swallows nervously, terror building in him at the thought of what Carlos’s parents could be doing here. “The doctors tell us you’ve been asking about our son,” Andrea continues. “We wanted to come and talk to you and give you the news ourselves.”

TK swears his heart stops in his chest. “Is he…”

He can’t get the words out, can’t put the idea into existence, but Andrea clearly picks up on what he’s thinking as she crosses the room, taking his hands in hers.

“He’s alive,” she says. “He… He lost a leg in the explosion and his lungs were damaged from the smoke, but the doctors have told us that the worst danger has passed. We’re just waiting for him to wake up now.” Andrea pauses, biting her lip. She looks at Gabriel, then back to TK, releasing his hands. “How do you know our son? Are you…”

“We’re friends,” TK says, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. “He’s the best friend I’ve got. Thank you for telling me.”

*

He leaves his number with Andrea and Gabriel, and they promise to keep him updated on Carlos’s condition.

Four days after TK goes home, he gets a phone call to say that Carlos is awake. He’s back at the hospital within the hour, racing as fast as he can (which, infuriatingly, isn’t very fast right now) to the room number they gave him.

The sight he’s greeted with just about takes his breath away.

Carlos smiles at him, and he’s covered in bandages and scrapes and he’s clearly exhausted, but he’s smiling, and TK swears he’s never looked more beautiful. He stands in the doorway for a long time, just staring at Carlos for the first time in nine days, so captivated by him that he doesn’t notice the knowing look that passes between Andrea and Gabriel.

“We’ll give you boys some time to catch up,” Gabriel says. He pats TK’s shoulder when they walk past him, and it’s enough to spur him back into action.

TK crosses the room in three quick strides, reaching for Carlos’s hand the second he’s settled in the chair. He almost sobs when he feels Carlos squeeze his hand back; it’s weak, more just a twitch of the fingers, but it feels like everything.

“Hi,” Carlos says, his voice quiet and raspy.

TK sniffs, opens his mouth to say hi back, but maybe the explosion knocked him about more than he realised, because what comes out instead is, “I love you.”

Their eyes widen at the same time, a flush rising on TK’s face as he processes what he just did. “I—I’m so sorry, Carlos, I—” He shakes his head and tries to pull his hand back, but Carlos’s grip tightens, keeping him firmly in place.

“Say it again,” he demands.

TK blinks. “What?”

“Say it again.”

He hesitates another second, but the slight uptick to Carlos’s lips gives him the confidence he needs to look Carlos in the eyes.

“I love you. I’ve loved you for the longest time and I’m so sorry that I couldn’t see it before. I was scared, and I thought I wouldn’t be able to handle a relationship, and I figured it would be easier to let you down than risk hurting us both when we inevitably realised it couldn’t work out.

“But I was so wrong, Carlos. Back at the restaurant, after the explosion, all I cared about was finding you and making sure that you were okay. I couldn’t stand the thought that anything might have happened to you, and I’ve been going out of my mind since it happened because I didn’t know how you were. I—I can’t lose you, Carlos.”

He takes a deep breath and blinks away the tears beginning to gather in his eyes, attempting a trembling smile to match Carlos’s own. “I love you,” he whispers. “If it’s too late, then I understand. I just. I need you in my life. I need you, Carlos. However you’ll have me.”

Carlos holds his gaze for a long time after TK has finished speaking, and it feels like he’s seeing right through him. Eventually, after so long that TK’s lost all sense of time, he slowly raises his hand, brushing his knuckles across TK’s cheek, then coming to rest on the back of his neck.

“I love you, too.”

And the light pressure from Carlos’s hand is all the invitation TK needs to close the distance between them, his heart pounding as he kisses Carlos for what feels like the first time.

Hopefully, it’s the first of many, and the first of the rest of their lives.

[mando-connoisseur]

Here’s yet another Boba/Din WIP, because apparently my brain only wants to write about these two beautiful himbos. Our boy Din does NOT understand the concept of proper wound care, and Boba does not tolerate this. Enjoy! (Not explicit or anything!!)

________

Din scavenged through what remained of his ship, looking for any supplies he might have that could possibly help them. There were a few blankets, some food rations, and, thankfully, his cauterizer. He didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, but he had been nicked by a charge earlier and had a wound to close up.

He brought his supplies over to the fire where Boba was sitting, attempting to entertain the little ad by dangling a necklace in front of him. It seemed to have something inscribed on it in mando’a, but Din couldn’t make it out in the dim light.

“At least he’s easily distractable,” Din joked. He removed the armor plates that covered the wound, grabbing his cauterizer.

“Yeah. He’s pretty cute.”

Din activated the cauterizer, preparing to apply it to his wound. Right as the tool was about to scorch his skin shut, a hand darted forward and grasped his wrist, ripping the cauterizer out of his hands.

“Hey!” Din shouted, startled. “What are you doing?”

“What are you doing?” Boba asked insistently. “You aren’t seriously going to close that wound with a karking cauterizer, are you?”

“I told you, that’s how I normally do it,” Din retorted, slightly annoyed.

“Well, not while you’re working with me.” Boba reached over to get his bag. “I have medical supplies, remember? You don’t have to do that now.”

Din let out a huff, a bit annoyed, but also slightly flattered. He wasn’t really used to anyone insisting that he take care of himself. His covert tended to follow a mentality of asceticism, but it seemed that Boba’s aliit did not prescribe to the same standard.

Boba handed him the medical stitches. Din took them, but froze. In all his years of bounty hunting, he never bothered to learn how to stitch himself up. Like he had told Boba, he only ever cauterized his wounds.

“I …” Din muttered, ashamed to ask for help when he already felt like he was indulging in a needless luxury. “I don’t know how to do this. I’ve never used medical stitches before.”

“Oh,” Boba breathed, voice growing soft. “Never?” He turned his head to the side for a moment, thinking. “Well, I can do it for you, if you’d like.”

“Okay, that’d…that’d be fine.” Din stammered. “Thank you.”

Boba’s voice lifted. “Don’t worry about it, beroya. Give me your arm.”

Din huffed at the nickname, but offered his arm to Boba without comment. Boba took some time to examine the wound before he grabbed the stitches and a disinfecting agent.

“Okay, I’m going to disinfect the wound, apply some bacta spray, and stitch it up. Sound good?”

Din nodded, then huffed out a laugh that was barely registered by his vocoder. “You sound like a doctor when you say it like that.”

“I got a lot of practice helping my buir after his missions. It’s kind of like second nature, by now.” He applied a bit of bacta spray, numbing the area before making the first stitch.

Din couldn’t help but smile at Boba underneath his helmet, taking advantage of the anonymity his bu’cye offered. Boba was so unlike all the other bounty hunters he’d worked with before. Most would have just abandoned him on this god-forsaken planet, but Boba stayed, actively choosing to help him, to take care of him. Beyond the fact that he was a fellow Mandalorian, Din couldn’t figure out why he was treating him with such kindness. It made his heart flutter for some reason, and he suddenly felt a blush begin to creep across his face.

Boba’s voice broke Din out of his thoughts. “Okay, all finished!” He grabbed a bandage to wrap around the wound, taking a moment to admire his handiwork.

“You really didn’t have to do that for me.” Din murmured, some shyness creeping into his tone.

“Hey,” Boba interjected, “I had the supplies with me to begin with, so it’s really no big deal.” He got up and sat down beside the little ad, opening up a ration bar and breaking it up into little pieces to feed to it.

[aerynwrites]

Specter

Boba Fett x F!Reader

A/N: For @autumnleaves1991-blog Writer Wednesday! I had a lot of fun with this one as Sci-Fi is definitely my passion when it comes to writing, watching, reading stuff! So I guess a little backstory with this, is my inspirations for the reader came from the above image (left) as well as kind of mixing that with the idea of The Winter Soldier/Bucky from the MCU. Also I loved the idea of Boba facing an opponent that hes never faced before and getting his ass beat lol. So...here ya go! I hope you all enjoy! <3

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: fighting, guns, and knives.

Specter: Specter refers a ghost, or something that is widely feared or is a source of terror or dread.

⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

In all his years as a bounty hunter traveling the galaxy, It still surprises Boba sometimes that he doesn’t know all of the planets. Granted he is usually only called to the same ones over and over. So, seeing a new planet is something that causes surprise to tug at the edges of his mind. This is how he feels when the bounty he receives is said to be last spotted on a rather large yet secluded planet by the name of Zonuc. The memory of the exchange a few days ago replays in his mind as the ramp to Slave I lowers.

⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

“I’ve never even heard of this planet before, and you expect me to fly triple the distance I usually do to capture a bounty that you can’t even give me any information on? No age. No species. No name-”

“I gave you a name,” the client interrupts, waving his withering hand dismissively. The client is a wrinkly old Zabrak bastard who has caused Boba more frustration in the last half hour than he’s experienced in years.

“No,” he barks, “You have me an alias, which isn’t that helpful when they can just dump it for a new one whenever they please.”

The Zabrak rolls his eyes, “I was told you were the best. If you feel this is too much of a challenge I can just find someone else to-”

“Save your ultimatums for someone else, Kar,” Boba snaps, “I’ll get them. But I expect heavy compensation for the trouble this causes me.”

Kar sneers at the bounty hunter, “If you manage to bring them back to me alive, I assure you,” he leans back in his chair, “you will never have to worry about credits again.”

Boba scoffs before turning on his heel and leaving to find his bounty.

⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

The sight that greets Boba as the ramp of Slave I opens before him, is definitely different than anything he’s seen. Immediately he is struck with a familiarity. The city he’s landed in is teeming with life, bustling streets, towering buildings, neon signs hanging everywhere. It reminds him of Coruscant but less…refined. This place is definitely a place where those who want to disappear go. This place also reeks of trouble and shady dealings. What strikes him as the most odd however, is the people that seem to inhabit the place.

They look like humanoid droids. But not the kind that can’t do anything but follow their master around and translate languages. No. These things look like humanoids that have been transformed into machines. 

Boba treads carefully - senses on high alert while also listening to the tracking fob that beeps steadily at his side. He spends his first few hours on the planet trying to simply get his bearings, finally having found a non-robotic person to ask about the place. He learns that the people that inhabit the planet in majority are called Exos, a species he’s never heard of. He also finds that this place is exactly what he thought it to be - 

A place for criminals and wanted people to come and live and thrive in a life of crime. A safe haven for those on the run from people like him. 

He huffed at that information. No place is ever truly safe, and as his tracking fob starts to beep faster, he knows he’s about to teach that lesson to yet another bounty. 

He follows where the tracking fob leads him, surprised that the bounty does not seem to be moving. Finally, he rounds a corner at the end of the street he is on and he immediately feels when the bounty clocks him. You are at a stall in a marketplace in the middle of the street. He sees you turn to look just as he rounds the corner and he immediately recognizes the mask from the pictures shown to him by Kar. It's black, with orange glowing detail around the visor, creating a haunting effect. The second that visor lands on Fett, you turn on your heel and sprint in the opposite direction. 

The hunter curses to himself and gives chase.

He has faced many different bounties in his lifetime, but this one is the first that he has ever had a sliver of a doubt about. The way you dart nimbly through the streets before literally leaping off of walls to reach the roof tops, giving you a height advantage. Fett follows as best he can with his jet pack, but between dodging speeders and hanging signs he loses sight of you. For a moment, as he lands in a side alley, he thinks he actually lost the bounty. 

Until the fob at his side starts going haywire. 

He glances up above him and raises an arm just as you come crashing down onto him, razor sharp blade glancing off his vambrace as you land. Fett pulls his blaster from it’s holster and aims faster than most could blink, but not fast enough for you. You reach out and grab the end of his blaster before it even reaches chest level, and you yank it from his grip with a force that strikes a tinge of concern into hunters mind. He watches in utter shock as you break the solid metal in half over your knee before rearing back and throwing a knife in his direction. He barely dodges it and immediately reaches for his own blade to defend the attack he knows is coming. This time he is at least able to draw his weapon completely before you are on him again. 

You go to throw a punch at his head, and on instinct he leans into it, used to his opponent crumpling in pain once their fist makes contact with the solid metal. However, this time, he is the one that stumbles when a deafening ringing fills his ears as metal connects with metal.

Wait - metal on metal?

He glances up from where his eyes fell to the floor to see you rearing back to hit him again, and he just manages to finally realize what is happening. The black color of your hand that he had assumed were gloves, is actually smooth metal.

He’s fighting a fucking robot. 

Before he can dwell on it too long however, he dodges another blow and thrusts his blade forward and up with the intent of burying the blade in your stomach. But before he can, you reach out and wrap your fingers around the blade - stopping it in its path. You wretch the weapon from his hands before landing a herculean blow to his chest, sending the man flying backwards into the wall behind him. He collapses to the ground in a heap and is forced to watch as you snap his blade in half too before approaching the downed hunter. He can see that you think you’ve beaten him, and perhaps you have to some extent. But Boba Fett is not going out of this galaxy sitting on his ass.

So, just as you approach him, he swings his feet out and takes your own from beneath you. And in a puzzling turn of events, he reaches for the mask on your face instead of a weapon at his side. His fingers just manage to slip the plastoid from your head before a boot is placed into his stomach and he is flung backwards with otherworldly strength once more. This time, he is again surprised to feel his helmet being ripped from his head, watching as you launch it down the alley way before hauling him to sit upright against the wall.  

You crouch down in front of him, and it's then that he finally gets a closer look at the first bounty that has bested him. The first thing he thinks is that you’re pretty. too pretty to be hiding behind some mask. The second thing he notices is the rhythmic whirring and clicking of the mechanics coming from the, what he can see now, is two mechanical arms. 

He huffs, cringing at the stabbing pain in his side as you glare at him. “So, what are you anyway?” he finally asks, eyes tracing over your arms once more before returning to your face, “I feel like I at least deserve an answer before you kill me.”

Your head tilts to the side slightly at his words, and unbeknownst to him, similar thoughts to his own are running through your head. You find the bounty hunter somewhat attractive and very intriguing

“All you need to know is one thing-” you finally breathe, and Boba finds himself entranced by your voice, “Come after me again...And I won’t go easy on you.” 

You stand then, but not before shoving the man back into the wall harshly. You scoop up your mask and slip it back over your face and turn to exit the alley way, leaving the defeated bounty hunter on the ground.

“That was taking it easy on me?” Boba huffs out a laugh and shakes his head.

You pause and turn to look over your shoulder, visor glowing ominously as you say, “I don’t think you want to find out.” and then, with a mighty leap, you disappear into the rooftops.

Boba lets out a defeated sigh as you leave his eyesight, yet, he can’t help the way his lips tug up at the corners slightly. 

“I don’t know princess,” he mumbles to himself, letting out a low groan as he finally stands, “I think I want a rematch.”

And in that moment, in a damp ally on an unknown planet, Boba decides that he isn’t done with you yet. Not by a long shot.

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