#You know how anytime you take any kind of helmet off the hair come out sort of tangled and sweaty?

[thunderboltfire]

POV: You’re a Witch-King of Angmar and a tall blonde has suggested you leave her uncle alone.

[dxrkdreamer]

Not So Bad

Modern Sukuna x Reader

Working late had been the bane of your existence, only getting worse when a certain man started showing up to your store’s parking lot to light his joints.

Word Count: 2.7K

Warnings: 18+ implied sex, mentions of weed.

(A/N: should I make a part 2? It seems pretty popular

Couldn’t come up with a name for the store so I used Anavrin from ‘YOU’)

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“11:00 pm? Again?” you rubbed the back of your head trying to hide your frustration, the store manager nodded his head, sighing you agreed to stay late at work again since the closer frankly did not want to stay. So now here you are grumbling as you finish sweeping the floor and checking it off your log. You worked at a high end grocery store named Anavrin, a store that swore to sell organic produce and products to the best of quality. You took up a job here in your senior year of high school, planning on working for a few months to save up for college. And yet… 4 years later you’re still here grumbling at the extra hours you had taken. After your second year of working you had a promotion to supervisor… woo hoo!!... but it turned out it was more responsibility than expected. But it paid a little more and you could not argue with that.

‘I should be a little more optimistic, I’m graduating uni this year’ you’d tell yourself anytime you wanted to pull your hair out because of your measly job. You finished turning off the lights and locking the door, sighing as you felt the cold fall air hit your tired face, taking a deep breath of fresh air… wait a second “Who the fuck is smoking weed!” you yelled in a girly voice, as if this day was not long enough. Since you were in charge of a proper closing you marched off towards a tall man leaning against the back of the store, laughing and conversing on his phone. It was a little nostalgic, you remembered your highschool days, sneaking around and smoking pot in strange places. But he was not as young as a teenager, in fact his build made him look older than you.

“Hey! I’m going to ask you to leave, this is a smoke free property” You tried saying sternly gesturing to the sign right above them that read “no smoking” in bold letters. But your short stature compared to the man made you look like a kid waving your arms around attempting a snake dance.

“What on earth is this?” a man with pink hair and face tattoos said “I’m so scared, I should be so ashamed for not reading the sign” he cackled as he pressed the joint to his lips and inhaled again. “My apologies”

He did not look sorry at all.

“Look, I’ve had a long day. I’d like to go home so please go to a proper location or I’ll-” but you’re cut off with the joint stuffed to your pretty lips.

“You’ll what cutie?” he smirked as you stared at him dumbfounded, the joint stuck to your lip as you tried to figure out a reaction. But the man was already on his way towards his motorbike. Of course he had a motorbike. “First one’s always free darling, next time I’ll charge ya” he winked as he put his helmet on and sped off.

“Mother fucker” you swore and banged your head against the brick wall. ‘Never am I staying late again’ you groaned. You walked to your car, but not without tucking the joint safely in your pocket for when you got back home.

---

And that was your first of many nightly encounters with the pink haired man. You were not surprised to see him anymore in the parking lot, either smoking, laughing with friends or just sitting on his bike staring at his phone. You learned his name was Sukuna… you had asked for it during the nth time you threatened to call the cops. You also learned he sold weed to the store manager, so he pretty much had a free pass on smoking here.

“Working late again (name)? My, they must pay you a lot for you to stay here.” he smirked, watching you with grinning eyes. Your annoyance shot up at the mention of your little over minimum wage pay. They definitely were not paying you enough for the store, but giving you a delinquent like this guy… you had written your resignation letter a few times after his nightly visits. You ignored him as you walked to your car, heavy footsteps followed “I brought ya a little something” He grinned handing you a baggy with a cookie “It’s on the house, made ‘em myself”. Eyes narrowed as you tilted your head up to glare at him, but realized you were a lot closer than you expected. You could hear him breathe, feel the heat off his body and smell the spicy cologne he was wearing as you breathed a little too loudly trying to inhale the scent. “Not today darling, that package is for another date” he winked.

Oh my God.

What have you done? Sure he was hot and you didn’t mind the view, but his mouth made up for that. He was like an evil version of a talking cat. Opening his mouth to smite you, prideful like one and given the opportunity would sit on your face if you were lying down. Wait what?

“I’m not interested in you like that!” you squeeked.

He tilts his head to the side, resting his cheek in the palm of his hand “Then how are you interested in me?”

“I’m not interested unless you’re a customer, or an employee here or something!” Frustrated, you grabbed the zip loc with the cookie in it “And I’ll be confiscating this!”

“Sure thing, I made it just for you. It's a special recipe”

“I’ll let the cops know!” you yelled getting in your car, throwing the cookie on the passengers side as you sped home for the night.

“So if I was an employee…or something...” he wondered gazing at the stars, his thoughts frenzying around as his mind came up with the most brilliant idea. Cackling loudly “you’ve really outdone yourself this time me.” Laughing as he got on his bike, speeding towards his apartment.

---

“A new employee?” You mused, It was pretty hectic at work recently, one of your employee’s had quit and they finally found a replacement “I wonder what they’re like”. You asked yourself as you prepared a training checklist to go over, making sure to not make it too hard on the new guy- you heard it was his first job after all. “Hello! And welcome to the Anavrin family!” you say smiling with closed eyes, as you open them your mouth went agape. ‘What the….’ had the demon cat from the parking lot shrunk and gotten more youthful?

“Hi, I’m Yuji Itadori. You must be my brother Sukuna’s friend. He said to write your name down as someone who referred me to the job”

Chuckling nervously with the clipboard in hand you checked off the box for introductions “I’m (name) the grocery supervisor, and you would be working under me mostly.” Friends with Sukuna? Cutting your wrists open and watching them bleed sounded like the better option.

As the shift progressed Yuji showed you he was the complete opposite of his older brother. Always finishing his tasks, being kind and sweet. Everyone else loved him too, just on the first day. He was stocking milk and eggs the way you had shown him, one of the last tasks of the night. The crowd of customers thinned out as it got late and the store was closer to its closing time. You watched to make sure he was doing them correctly and if he needed any help. ‘This wasn’t so bad’ you thought, closing your eyes and leaning back.

“So how’s my little brother been (name)?”

Your eyes shot open at that voice God no please. “He’s been amazing, but you can’t just put my name as a referral without asking me-” There stood a tall Sukuna in a dress shirt with his sleeves rolled back, probably coming after finishing his day job. Majority of his tattoos were covered except the lines on his wrists that were exposed, making you gulp inaudibly. Suddenly feeling underdressed in your uniform’s polo shirt and measly work pants and sweater as you stared up at his glory.

“Sorry darling, I can’t do what?” he smirked. Mentally praising himself as his plan got into action. He couldn’t lie, (name) was interesting. Always yelling at him, cursing him and swearing that she would murder him if it was the purge. His usual charm not working gave him more of a challenge. Not to mention the way she was kind to younger brother made his heart swell a little.

The annoyance returned once you saw his shit eating grin “You can’t write my name down without asking me!”

As he opened his mouth to speak, the intercom went off, notifying everyone that the store was now closed and any remaining customers should bring their purchases to the front to pay for them.

“Yuji you can go home now, I’ll put this away and start heading out myself” you say massaging your temples with your fingers.

“See you soon (name).” Sukuna winked as he walked towards the exit, waving behind at you as he went outside to wait for his brother.

---

Unfortunately soon had never come… at least not for the last 3 weeks. Making you miss the tall man in more ways than one. Maybe he wasn't so bad now that you thought about it. The usual nightly teasing might make you seethe but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t laugh about it later in your car. Somehow his laid backness and mocking smile made your night light up a little. And the weed that you would “confiscate” really did help you unwind after a long shift.

“Maybe it was because he saw me in my uniform” you grumbled. That had to be it. You weren’t a sore look on the eyes. Right? But compared to him… you hissed as you felt your lower half heat up and tremble at the thought of the man. “Well it's only 11:00 pm… and my first class is at 9:30 am… and then I have work at the 4:00.” Debating your options…. ‘This is why I’m probably so grumpy all the time, I think too much’

“And probably need to get laid” you said aloud. Living alone did have its perks, no one could call you crazy for talking to yourself. Your friends always nagged you about your dry spell too, but one night stands weren’t really fun to you anymore. They were too shallow and you always found yourself feeling more frustrated by them than relaxed.

Quickly rummaging through your drawer, you found your lovely device and turned it on. The buzz filled the room as you fell on the bed and groaned. Your mind was wild as you thought dirty little things about the man. Your eyes rolled back and you felt little whines erupt from your throat as you imagined him on top of you with his signature smirk, choking you and teasing you, calling you terrible names and whispering dirty things in your ear.

But as quickly as you heated up, the device buzzed and suddenly stopped. Too hazy to think straight you tried turning it on and off again, soon realizing it was the battery that was dead. “For fucks sake” you threw the vibrator and it hit the wall and fell with a loud thud. Good. Pulling your covers up, scowling as you shut your eyes to sleep.

The next day only went further downhill. Your lecture was long and uneventful, you forgot there was a guest speaker instead of the usual prof, most of the class skipped anyways so you sat alone and pretended to be interested. And as you went home from campus, your car broke down on the way leaving you stranded in the heat as you waited for the tow truck. You really just wanted to buy some batteries and get some time to yourself before work. But life had another thing planned once you got home, you only left with half an hour before you had to leave for work. Which barely gave you enough time to shower, change into an excuse of an outfit, grab your uniform and run out the door. You heard a few whistles as you ran to the bus stop, most likely because of the skimpy outfit which was pretty much just a long t-shirt made into a dress with stockings. But this was not the time to be picking fights.

Work was more mundane as ever. Emptying, stocking, organizing and talking was all that seemed to happen. You frowned for the nth time in the day when you saw Yuji was not scheduled to work today and you remembered him mentioning that he was going somewhere with friends for the next two days. The boy could always turn a bad day around. He was a blessing to the department and the store as a whole. The long day finally came to an end and the weekend awaited. Stuffing your uniform in your bag as you walked out you saw a familiar motorbike and a man leaning against it getting ready to light a joint.

You didn’t think, all you could hear were your footsteps smacking against the pavement as you ran to the man. Blood rushed to your head as you slowed down, stopping barely an inch away from him. He was wearing jeans and a dress shirt and most important, that smirk.

“I didn’t realize you missed me this much darling, otherwise-” but he was cut short as your hands gripped his head and pulled him down to your lips for a not so innocent kiss. You had to admit, you liked the guy. But as he responded by deepening the kiss and sliding his wet tongue into your mouth to taste you, you realized you wanted more of him. And you found yourself in his apartment, stripped down with his face buried between your legs as you came down from your second orgasm. Him licking you clean and not missing a single bit.

“When” you panted “when is Yuuji-” but he shushed you by gagging his fingers deep in your throat.

“Not until Sunday at least” he smiled with a sinister look, your wetness coating his lips “we have the whole weekend darling” He had waited almost two months for this so he was definitely going to take his time and relish the next few days. How could he not? You were beautiful with a fiery personality, and that showed by the ways you disobeyed him on his bed to get a reaction. It seemed the roles were reversed, but this time there would be consequences. For you at least.

He was relentless but you were no pussy and would not back down either. Both of you with fire and heat taking over your bodies as you brought spark and life into the night, wanting to explore every bit of each other, not stopping until you noticed the sun starting to rise causing exhaustion to take over.

He had let you stay to sleep in, provided you with a clean shirt to wear and even made breakfast for you. Presented you with a “gourmet plate of eggo waffles with the finest Aunt Jemimah maple syrup” he said which earned him a giggle from your pretty lips.

“I can make pretty good waffles from scratch” you told him proudly, puffing out your chest in pride. But these were special to you, the whole moment was special.

“I intend on trying them,” he spoke after a moment. He thought it was out of character for him to ask for a relationship but he wanted to be with you more than just a few times. And wanted more of you in different ways. He wouldn’t get his brother involved if it was a casual fuck relationship that he wanted. Which reminded him he owed the brat 50 bucks.

“Maybe you should come over sometime” you smiled sweetly, blushing a bit.

“I’d like to see you more, take out and get to know you” he said, interrupting your invitation.

“I’d like that too.” you said smiling.

[auty-ren]

The Offer: Chapter 8

Distractions

Pairings: The Mandalorian x Reader, Din Djarin x Reader, ClanLeader!Din x Reader.

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 6k

Warnings: Smut (oral (m), exhibitionism, rough sex, penetrative sex, public (outdoor) sex, doggy style, breeding kink, dirty talk). Descriptions of canonical violence. Implied injury. Talk of children/pregnancy. Fluff. Talk of death/’meaning of life.’ Honeymoon shenanigans. Two big idiots being in love. A little surprise for all the Mira stans out there.

A/n: I hope y’all are ready for some more world-building! We get to see a bit into Din’s past in this chapter, and shed some light on some possible ulterior motives. Second a/n at the bottom! Hope y’all enjoy💗.

Summary: Din and you finally didn't the time to slow down for a bit and you find out quickly that you weren't the only ones who had something planned.

The Offer Masterlist | My Masterlist

The stone beneath your fingertips was rough, pewter-colored grains gathering at the edge of the brick you sat on until you flicked them off with your finger. You squinted and watched the few larger pieces you could see as they fell to the ground, collecting just a few inches from your feet. A chunkier, darker colored boot came into your line of sight and you followed the path up his legs until you were met with the matte blue of Paz’s visor. You squinted through a smile as he tilted his head, blocking the sun from your face and gesturing to your boot.

“Do you like them?”

The leather squeaked as you flexed your toes in your boot, your foot turning to the side as you lift your leg a little to show it off. You nodded, a sheepish grin plastering across your face knocked your heels together.

Paz didn't have to ask where you had gotten them; they were brand new, a practically perfect fit, and made specifically for you.

“....at your husband's request.”

You shouldn't have expected less from Din, especially from the way he had reacted when the sole of your original shoe finally gave out. He had made such a big deal out of it; even after you told him it was fine, tossing them to the side and continuing with a simple pair of slip-ons you had. Din wasn't so quick to dismiss it, he picked up the boot in question and watched as the split in the arch grew wider and puckered when he squeezed it in his hand.

It was a surprise to find the new pair sitting on the table this morning, along with a note handwritten by Din. 

“These have been made for you at your husband's request. Please, take very good care of them. -Din.”

You could practically hear the playful attitude in his voice and picture the laugh he probably had as he wrote out the words. 

The written ink was smeared, the corners of the spare paper fraying, and some of the letters were hard to make out; but you loved all of it, every flaw and every second of care that Din had poured into such a simple thing. You had smoothed out any creases that had been left in the paper, being careful to not spread any of the ink further, and placed the note inside one of the books in the chest that sat at the end of your shared bed, another one of Din's gifts. It felt silly sometimes to hold on to such trivial things; but when you read the note again, one last time before putting it in the chest for safe-keeping, it didn't feel silly at all. It felt warm and airy and it tickled your cheeks with a feeling you had only ever had around Din.

“You don’t have to wait with me you know?” you peered up at Paz and tilted your head to mirror his. “I’m perfectly capable of finding him without you.”

“I know that Vod’ika,” Paz crossed his arms and leaned against the same wall you sat on. “I figured you would like the company.”

“Always,” you bumped your shoulder against his playfully, looking to the entry of the great hall just a few feet from where you sat.

It was quiet around the great hall, most people being respectful of the council and leaving an empty and silent place for them to work in. You stood from your seat, walking just a few steps in front of you until you were met with the adjacent wall, leaning forward and craning your neck to look at the sky.

“Did he say why he sent for me?” you questioned, though it wasn't bothersome on your end, it did make you wonder what was so important for Din to send someone for you instead of just looking for you himself.

“He only asked me to bring you to him, once the council had finished,” Paz gestured to the door. “They should be done at any moment.”

It wasn't a few minutes later that you found yourself walking the halls just a few steps behind Paz, Mandalorians passed the two of you; your path seemingly going in the wrong direction from the way they flowed down the hall. You nodded to the people who noticed you, most of them giving a simple acknowledgment of your presence; the few without helmets offering a smile.

Some stray voices carried through the halls, echoing off the stone and mostly indistinguishable by the time they found you. You followed Paz turning a corner where the voices grew louder as you stepped through the threshold of a doorway.

There was a long table that stretched across nearly every inch of the room, a few groups of people still lingering as they slowly filed out of the room. Din stood at the head of the table, speaking to an older Mandalorian who carried his helmet under his arm, his hair was greyed and worry-lines set deep into his features. Their conversation hushed as you and Paz neared, Din's helmet turning to follow the direction his counterpart had looked. He said your name softly, turning to face you better.

“As requested,” Paz joked as he stepped towards the other two men. “Took me far too long to find her, you should keep a better track of her, Djarin.”

You rolled your eyes at the laugh they shared, grinning as you watched the two of them shake hands and joke with one another.

“Cyar'ika,” Din turned to you and held his hand out to you. You took it and went to stand at his side, leaning towards him as your fingers intertwined. He gestured to the unnamed Mandalorian, repeating your name to him and introducing the two of you.

“This is Medrit, a member of our council and my mentor from when I was a youngling.”

You had seen Medrit around in the village before, mostly when you had sat at dinner with Mira; but you had yet to speak with him. His demeanor told that he was someone of importance, and the decorations that sat on his chest were a testament to that as well.

You smiled at him, nodding as he repeated your name and offered you his hand to shake.

“Din Djarin has told me much about you,” Medirt spoke, smiling fondly as he patted Din on the shoulder. “I'm sorry I missed your presentation and have failed to meet you before this.”

“Medrit and I have been busy.” Din sounded almost shy, something that sounded so foreign to you. Medrit seemed to agree, exchanging a look with Din that did not go unnoticed.

“But I hope to know you better, very soon.” 

He reminded you so much of Din, in the way he spoke and carried himself. You wondered if we're seeing a glimpse of Din's future, the thought of his hair greying at his temples bringing a smile to your face.

“I would like that very much.” 

-

Medrit and Paz said their goodbyes not too long after, following the last few people who remained out of the room. Din and you were left alone, save for the guards who were paired at the doors. Before you could think of asking, Din dismissed them; the two of them shuffling out of the room at his command and pulling the heavy wooden doors closed with a thud.

“You never told me you had a throne.” You teased him, pointing to the chair that was behind him. It was noticeably larger than the others at the table; made of the same wood, deep, rich in color with designs and phrases etched into the arch that served as the backrest. The chair wasn't much different than the rest, but you noticed it nonetheless, grinning at him as he shook his head.

 “It's not a throne, Cyar'ika.” You could hear the grin on his voice, his helmet pressing gently against your forehead as he squeezed your hand.

“You look beautiful.”

The leather of his gloves was warm against your face, following along your jaw until he pushed them into your hair.

“Your hair?” He questioned, his fingers pulling away once he noticed resistance.

“The children,” You smiled at the memories, shrugging a little when Din chuckled. “They wanted to practice.”

Some days it felt like there wasn't much you could do to contribute to the Clan. As much as you hated following Mira around as if you were lost, especially since you were married to their Alor; she never minded the company or the help for that matter.

You sat with her for lunch just outside the gated areas that served as the gardens, sitting on empty crates and sharing some of the food you had spent the morning picking. It’s where you met Korri, a sweet girl about your age with kind eyes and a quick tongue that kept even Mira’s smart mouth at bay. You noticed how Mira’s eyes focused on her when she spoke and the way their hands brushed against each other anytime they stood near each other. You didn’t mean to tease Mira badly but, you couldn’t resist seeing the meek expression that crossed her face when you questioned her about it. The two of you were alone and gossiping like schoolgirls over bushels of food; sorting the good from the bad once most of it had been harvested. Korri had joined you, fitting right into your conversation once the awkward tension had dissipated.

As you ate together, you watched as children ran around, playing games of their imagination, their laughter carrying through the gardens. You had learned a few of their names, becoming familiar with them as the times you helped Mira grew in number. Sometimes during your breaks they would come and sit with you, asking questions with an innocence that only seemed understandable because of their age. Most of them understand what your marriage to Din meant, and a few of the older ones had even made a habit of calling you their Alor; a title you knew they used with no real bearing but was a little joke between you and them.

And of course, when one of them came up to you and begged you to let them practice on your hair, you had no resolve to tell them no.

They were careful, as careful as someone so young could be; twisting sections of your hair into different patterns until they found one they liked. Eventually pulling most of it back from your face and securing it with a tie. They insisted on picking some of the small clusters of wildflowers that grew along the fences of the garden and putting them in the ties of your hair. You sat and let them work for as long as they liked, thanking them and making over their handy work as they giggled at your praise.

The children were all very sweet, and some days you looked forward to them following you while you worked, enjoying their company no matter how tedious it could be.

“You look beautiful.” He repeated the sentiment from earlier, his voice just barely above a whisper.

You pressed yourself up against him, your hands resting on his chest while his arms fell to hold onto your hips. You tilted your head, batting your eyes as you looked up at him with a pout.

“Kiss me.”

He groaned a little, squeezing his arms tighter around you.

“Not in here, Cyar'ika.” he sighed, his breath hitching a little when you leaned to press a kiss on the spot where his chest and neck met. “I can't.”

You nuzzled your nose in his skin, dragging your lips up and down and leaving a trail of kisses in their wake. His fingers dug into your flesh, his hands flexing sharply as your nails running gently down his chest, stopping at the signet that cast his belt.

“Sit down, then.”

You pushed his shoulders, watching as he followed your direction and sat in his seat; his thighs spreading naturally as you kneeled in-between them.

When you finally put your mouth on him, he had nearly shot straight out of his chair from how hard his hips bucked. He was wound tight, his cock hard and throbbing under your touch from you teasing him; running your nails over his skin, and mouthing kisses onto his tummy, just barely ghosting over his groin.

He moaned your name, the sound practically melodic even through the metallic filter of his helmet, as you locked eyes with him. You guessed about where they'd be under there, imagining the vivid, dark color of his irises as you had seen them just this morning.

“You look so beautiful, Cyar'ika.” He groaned when he hit the back of your throat, choking out a curse as you slowly pull your mouth back up the length of his cock. “Taking my cock like this.”

You pulled off him with a wet pop, giving a few sweet kisses to the tip before wrapping your lips around him again.

“I don't deserve you, sweet girl.”

-

“We'll make it on foot, but it'll take a little while to get there.”

“You still haven't told me where we are going.” You released the strap of your bag to grab Din's hand your finger intertwining and your paces synchronizing as if from memory.

You had been walking on this trail for a while, it was one you had never been on before, but Din seemed to know where he was going. So you followed him, watching over your shoulder as the village slowly disappeared into the treeline behind you.

“That is the point of a surprise, Cyar'ika.”

A surprise.

Although it had been almost three months since you had married him, Din still surprised you. Sometimes in the form of his words, his actions, and sometimes with gifts; all things you told him weren’t necessary but he insisted on giving to you, his way of making sure you were taken care of. Of all the things Din could be, he was protective and caring in ways you had never realized could be so intimate with another person.

You knew he would kill for you, and you were sure he had threatened that before.

You had never brought it up, but you knew Din had threatened Kron the night of your presentation. You could count on one hand the number of times you had seen him since, a stark contrast to how he seemed to loom over you in the months prior. While you knew Kron deserved every word that Din had spoken to him, part of you couldn’t help but wonder about it. You were happy to put the experience behind you but part of you worried that it was about something that laid below the surface. You had never even known why Kron had even shown interest in speaking with you in the first place.

“That man, Kron,” you spoke before you had even decided if it was best to bring this up. “Why do you think he hates me?”

He didn’t say anything at first, taking a moment as if he needed to collect his thoughts, the gears turning under the shin of his helmet as he figured out what to say.

“I don't think he hates you, Cyar'ika.”

You scoffed, earning your hand a squeeze as he turned his head to look at you.

“Well, I would've believed otherwise.”

He stopped fully, your hands still connecting the two of you when you stopped just a second after he did, turning to face him. He sighed, breath coming from deep within his chest and causing his shoulders to raise with the force of it.

“He's angry with me,” he paused, still gathering his thoughts as if he needed to decipher what exactly to tell you. “and he never should have taken that out on you.”

“Why would he be angry with you?”

Maybe it was better to drop the subject, but you couldn’t help the curiosity you felt; an itching feeling that got worse with every word Din said.

“Because I beat him.”

The Mandalorians had a particular way of running things, traditions, and governments that sometimes dated back farther than anyone could remember. It didn’t surprise you that it wasn't a matter of electing someone to become their leader, they had to prove themselves just like they did as a child.

“Our leader before me was a wise man named Goran.” Din paused for a moment, leaning his head back until his visor pointed to the sky and then dipped to look at you. “When the time came, he had no children, successors to carry on his line.”

Shortly after the Verd’goten, The elders had announced that the future chief would be chosen from younglings hand-picked by the council. There were days, weeks dedicated to the trials that had been prepared for them; tests of their skill as a leader, a warrior, a Mandalorian. Something like that didn’t happen every day, and nearly all of the village watched as each of the candidates were tested; it became a game of sorts.

Both Din and Kron had been chosen by the members of the council, both of them had succeeded at nearly every challenge and in the final weeks, they were the only two competitors left.

“He was a few years older than me,” He started walking again, pulling you along with him as you listened to him retell it. “Much bigger and more experienced than I was. I think everyone thought he would be chosen.”

The story Mira told you when you first asked about Din was true. As a final test of their strength, both were sent on a hunt; they needed to kill the Mudhorn that had been terrorizing part of the village. Taking down such a creature would be the ultimate approval of a warrior’s capability and skill, and their willingness to protect those who are innocent. 

Din had won.

The night he had made his way back to the village, carrying the horn of the beast over his back as evidence of his victory, he was welcomed with open arms. The celebration has lasted for a week and at the end of it, he was crowned the new chief.

“You are the only living thing that has seen my face, since.”

The tenants of his creed had been solidified then, with status came the change and responsibility greater than most had.

“How old were you?”

He hesitated, almost as if he was ashamed to admit it.

“Fifteen.”

“You were just a child.”

“Maybe, so.” He looked at you, his free hand coming up to squeeze the fingers still tightly wrapped around his bicep.

“It must have been hard on you, having enormous responsibility so young.”

You could never imagine the burden Din had to carry and to have it from such a young age; sometimes you had no idea how Din had survived for so long on his own.

“This is the way.”

You placed a kiss on the pauldron of his shoulder, right over the Mudhorn signet that had been molded into the beskar, laying your head against the cold metal as you walked in silence again.

There may never come a time when you fully understand Din's creed, and even if you sometimes thought his life would be easier without it, you never wanted to disrespect his beliefs. You would be there for him, even when you disagreed with his reasoning. Making sure he didn't carry such a weight single-handedly anymore was the only thing you concerned yourself with; Din knowing he didn't have to do this alone anymore was all that mattered.

“One day my time will end, and there will be someone to take the helm just as I did from him.”

You had talked about things like this with Din before, most of the conversation happening in the late hours of the night as you tried to find sleep; you talked about a future, the life you wanted to lead with him, and what would become of that. And want the end would look like.

“I don't want to think about that.” You dismissed him, looping your arm around his tighter and pushing any sort of similar thought from your mind.

“All things must come to pass, Cyar'ika.” His tone was gentle, the words almost lost from how quietly he spoke them. “One of our children will be the next to lead us, and I will die at peace knowing they are prepared to take my place.”

“Our children will be lucky to have a father like you to teach them,” you smiled, shaking your head as you looked at him. “I don't think there's much I could do.”

Din slowed his steps, pulling his arm from your grip and he stood in front of you again. Something in him changed, his demeanor much sharper, determined than what it had been before.

“You have overcome so much in your life, Cyar'ika.” He was quiet again, his words carrying an emotion you could feel as he stepped closer to you, the space separating the two of you falling away to practically nothing.

“Just because you have never wielded a weapon in battle does not make your life less honorable.”

He guided your gaze back on him when it fell, his knuckles gently running along your jaw and tapping against your chin as a request for you to look at him.

“Never degrade yourself from anything less than deserving.”

Din had a way of saying just the right thing, it was as if he had time to carefully plan every single word before it fell from his lips. You smiled up at him as he held your face in his hands, the leather of his gloves contrasting the warmth that you felt in your cheeks.

“If our children are half as kind as you are, Cyar'ika….then I know we will have done something right for them.”

-

“Don't look.”

“I'm not.”

You couldn't help but giggle at how silly this felt; the kind of feeling that was light, and innocent and left butterflies that swirled inside your stomach when Din laughed at you. 

“See,” you squeezed your hands dramatically over your face, trying to prove you had no intention of breaking your promise. “I can't see a thing.”

Even with a half-hearted attempt at reassurance, Din wasn't convinced you'd keep true to your word.

“Yeah?”

You felt the soft fabric of a blindfold cover your face, you slipped your hands out from under it as Din tied it in a knot at the back of your head.

“I think I know you better than that, Cyar'ika.”

His arms wrapped around your waist and hauled you off the rock you had taken a break on.

“A girl can try can't she?” He spun you around until you faced in the other direction, setting you down as you gripped his biceps to keep your balance.

“Maybe,” he turned around, and you heard the sound of him moving around a little bit, then his unfiltered voice hit your ear. “But then you'll ruin the surprise.”

He took the bag from your shoulders and you reached out for him blindly, your belongings hitting the forest floor with a dull thud. He held on to your wrists and gave you a quick kiss on the lips before he lifted you into his arms. One of his hands settled underneath your knees, while the other wrapped around your waist.

You couldn't tell why Din had brought you out here, you couldn't see much as the path disappeared under your feet, the worn cut that had been made on the forest floor blending back into its surroundings. Din had insisted you close your eyes as soon as you reached the end, and he guided you to sit and wait until he was ready. The trail had led to the start of a hill from what you could tell, the sun shining brightly on the other side and casting both of you in a shadow as you stood at its base. Din grunted as he started up the hill, and you dug your fingers tighter into his furs as you shifted in his arms.

He carried you to the top; even with you commenting on how capable you were at walking he just ignored you.

“This is about you, Cyar'ika.”

“About me?” You could feel the sunlight pass over your features from behind your blindfold, warm and kissing your skin as you grinned up at him.

He sat you down once he passed the top, helping you balance yourself against him with his hands still roaming your sides. He turned you around with a kiss to your lips, your back pressing against his chest.

“Are you ready?”

He pressed his lips into your shoulder, trailing sweet kisses up your neck until he reached your ear; his voice rumbling deep in his chest as he whispered the words into your skin.

“I hope.” 

There was a nervousness that settled in your stomach, an excitement that flooded your veins but left you woozy as you leaned against him. You felt his hands reach for the blindfold, loosening the knot and letting the soft material fall away from your eyes.

It took a moment for you to adjust to the light, the sun was bright and hovering over the horizon, bathing everything in a beautiful golden glow and you shuddered out a breath when everything came into view.

It went on forever, large stretches of meadow littered with pinks and reds that swirled in gentle patterns; flowers of every kind dancing around your feet and tickling the skirt of your dress. You could see the colors vividly under the brightness of the setting sun; blooms that were full and in every shape imaginable stood at your fingertips.

“Do you like it?”

You felt him smiling against your skin, peppering small kisses along your jaw and cheek.

“It's wonderful.”

You turned in his arms, your faces just a hairbreadth away from one another as a question burned on the tip of your tongue.

“Din, how did you-”

“It's yours.” Din cut you off, his hand cupping your jaw while his thumb gently ran across the apple of your cheek.

“Mine?”

He held onto you tighter, and you felt like you were gonna burst; your chest swelling with the immeasurable feeling you got every time he looked at you.

“I’m giving it to you.”

You could see the warmth hidden behind a heavy-set brow, his irises a deep, rich color that sparkled with golden flecks of sun and left you breathless. His kiss was soft and left your mouth burning in the wake of his touch, your hands threading through his hair and pulling him deeper as your lips slotted together.

“Every year, that is the trail we use when we go on our hunts,” Din explained pulling away just enough for the words to slip past his lip, his palms still caressing the side of your face.

“And every year we pass by this meadow without so much as a second glance.”

Your hands wandered to hold Din’s arms, your fingers trailing along the length of his forearm until they came to rest at his wrists. He smiled as you squeezed them in your palms, your forefinger tracing tiny patterns on the underside of his arm.

“But this time, Cyar'ika, all I could think about was you.”

You felt tears brimming at his words, and when they finally rolled down your cheeks he brushed them away; catching them with his thumb as they fell from your eyes.

“So I'm giving it to you.”

He kissed you again, his mouth heavy against yours and his touch like molten that left a gentle burn underneath your skin. His taste was practically burned on your tongue by the time you pulled away from him, your threaded fingers the only thing that stayed connected as you led him deeper into the meadow. He was impatient, stopping you much sooner than you had planned, your chest colliding as he pulled you back to his arms. Warm, wet kisses trailed over your neck, his teeth sinking into the sensitive spot on your shoulder, making you groan in his ear. You gasped as your hands ran over his back, your nails scratching lightly and traveling to pull the curls at the base of his neck.

You don't remember how you got to the ground, it doesn't even register that you're moving until you feel the solid earth beneath you, pinned by Din's weight. His hands felt like they were everywhere at once, warm, and calloused against your skin once he removed his gloves. They pulled at pieces of your clothes, your own hands going to pull the latches that held Din's cape.

“You want to give me warriors, Cyar'ika?” He growled into your ears, your bodies rutting against each other as you desperately tried to strip yourself of enough layers to have each other. “Be my sweet Riddur and bare my children?”

Din chuckled at the completely sinful sound that left your lips, half-concocted strings of pleas spewing from your mouth; begging for him to touch you, to kiss you, to fill you to the brim with everything that was him.

“Let me breed you, sweet girl, as a proper husband should.”

He wasn't gentle when his hips finally rocked into yours, but it felt so blissful; like your body was tingling with excitement and about to burst with each cant of his hips. 

Your knees dug into the dirt beneath you, the material of Din's cape doing nothing to cushion you from the weight of his thrusts; the sound of your love-making the only thing that could be heard over the moans you shared.

He clung to you as if his life depended on it, kissing every inch of you he could reach and gripping you hard enough to leave imprints of his hands on your skin.

He swallowed the screams that laid on the edge of your tongue in a kiss, his fingers circling your clit as you ride your high over and over again. You were so sensitive when he had finally finished, your nerves heightened and your cunt glistening with the mixture of your releases.

You shared ‘I love you’s between slow kisses, your lips swollen and sensitive as he nipped them between his teeth. You held him close, burying your nose in his hair as you lay beneath a painted sky, every color imaginable dancing above you as the world continued slowly from day into night.

-

There was hardly a shred of sunlight left in the sky as you made your way back to the village. Din all but led you, the darkness making the forest a little more difficult to move through; your fingers gripped any piece of his clothing you could reach, clinging to his side as if you were afraid he'd leave you behind.

He chuckled a little bit as one of your hands gripped his cape, the other landing on his bicep and walking directly behind him, your head resting on his shoulder blade. You let go of him as he tapped your hand, stopping in his tracks to brace himself and telling you to climb into his back. You hesitated for a moment, you have no idea how much longer it would be to get home; there was no way Din could be comfortable carrying you for that long.

“Come on, Cyar'ika.” He turned his helmet to look at you, what little moon that was out tonight glinting off the visor. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck, jumping when he told you to and moving with him as his arms helped you settle on his back. He walked a little slower but he still seemed to navigate the trail better than you. You could feel the breaths he took from under his helmet, his chin peeking out from under his helmet from your angle. You laid your head against his shoulder and hummed as you squeezed his neck tighter, your finger sticking out to tickle him along his jawline. He flinched slightly, huffing out a laugh as he groaned out a meaningless warning. You settled your cheek against his pauldron, looking out as slopes of land started to form under the faint shine of the moon. The night was still around you, the only noise that registered being the thump of Din's boots on the ground and the faint sound of a broken breeze that wafted through the woods. You could see lights from the villager's home through the thinning treeline, the mountains that served as the backdrop of your home glowing with blue hue under the moonlight.

“We're almost there.” You commented, pointing a finger in the direction of the village.

Din slowed for a second and lifted his head to follow your hand, commenting on your ‘good eye.’ You huffed and held on tighter to his neck, trying to hold some of your body weight up to make it easier for him.

It didn't take much longer to reach the edge of the forest, the homes of the village much closer and more lively than they had looked from a distance.

There was something uneasy that washed over as you slipped from Din's grip, your feet landing flat on the ground that felt alive underneath you. The earth was rumbling, hardly noticeable but it tickled you through the soles of your boots as you stood still. You look over to find Din looking towards the village, his hand reaching out for you and pulling you to stand behind him. He held onto your hand with a bruising grip as if he were afraid you would slip through his fingertips.

It hit before you could ask him what was wrong, a blinding light that knocked you to your feet and left you scrambling against the dirt beneath you. There was a pounding inside of your head, a deafening sound that was shrill and left ringing in your ears. Your head was spinning as you tried to sit up, fighting against a heavy weight that kept you pinned to the ground. There were sounds of voices, muffled yelling that barely registered as you blinked up at the sky. 

The canopy of the trees was glowing in shades of violent reds that swirled around bellows of smoke. Your body felt heavy, every breath that passed through your lungs burned as you pushed against the pressure that held you down. You tried to move again, your arms limp and scratching against the dirt as shadows passed over your face. Some limbs seemed to move with yours slowly, with heavy hands bumping yours in their search for purchase. And then the weight was lifted, your vision blurring at the sight of Din's silver helmet. His hands held your face, words falling from his lips that were suffocated by the chaos that roared around you. Your eyes felt heavy, every time you blinked it was like heaven to have them close for just a second longer.

You looked at him, watching the colors dance across the profile of his helmet with words stuck on your tongue; sentences lost in the confusion that had settled over your mind. He was still talking to you, his arms sliding under your body to haul you off the ground; the remnants of a promise hitting your ear as your eyes finally closed.

“.... you're gonna be okay.”

Translations:

Vod’ika- Little sister

Alor- Leader, chief

Verd’goten- Mandalorian rite of passage

Riddur- Spouse, Husband/Wife

A/N (pt2): Y’all remember when the reader talked about how much she liked flowers because its something she remembers from her childhood??? Well Din did.

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[funtimebunnyblog]

Sureynot is back at it again with some fun requests 😂🤩🥰 Please enjoy!

The Pillarmen with an s/o who's an adrenaline junkie...

(Under the cut for length...)

Kars:

• Kars seriously disapproves of this hobby of yours.

• Mostly because when he met you he was under the impression that you were smarter than to even attempt half of the things you do for "fun".

• Once he found out that your idea of a good time was riding a bike down a rocky mountain at full speed or dangling from the edge of a cliff from a rope like a spider, he was sure you were crazy.

• Perhaps Humans really have regressed after all...

• Just because he could vault himself off a cliff without a care in the world or thought of bodily harm doesn't mean that you, a fragile little Human, should as well.

• If you insist that you're fine because of all the precautions you take when going out to do something risky, it does little to ease him.

• Initially, he tries to forbid you from going out and doing such dangerous things but you offered for him to come along anytime and supervise; which he ended up accepting.

• He'll admit that he feels a little better when he's at least with you just in case anything happens.

• "Isn't this great?" You laugh, peering back to glance at your mate (whom you were strapped to) as you dangled from the base of the cliff by your abs. "Just look at that view!"

• Kars couldn't be bothered to even try to enjoy the sunset scene far, far below when he was laying parallel in the air like this.

• If you wanted to watch the sunset, why not just stand upright ON the cliff?

• "When do we get to the fun part?" He sighed, his underlying bitterness only making you laugh. "This IS the fun part!"

• Should you happen to hurt yourself on any of your solo excursions you can at least always count on him to patch you up when you get Home.

• Showing up with a few scrapes and bruises here and there doesn't bother him very much but if you ever end up breaking a bone, prepare for a scolding of a lifetime.

• He will not let you do anything even close to risky until you are fully healed and from that moment on he makes it clear that he's accompanying you on ALL of your trips and supervising the scene.

• It's kind of funny, in a way he has fallen right into your trap; spending more quality time with you rather than staying cooped up in his office doing work all the time.

Esidisi:

• It takes Esidisi as a surprise when he finds out about your little hobbies.

• He never realized that doing such risky, heart palpatiating stunts was considered enjoyable to some Humans.

• His curiosity piqued, you'll find yourself dragging him along to one of your most favourite activities so he can watch and maybe try his hand at it.

• You've created a monster.

• An adrenaline pumped, 7ft tall, inhuman, older than dirt monster.

• He LOVES this sport. The sights, heights, the high-speed action, the spine tingling, the rushing going to his head; HE LOVES IT.

• It all puts a much hotter fire burning in his blood.

• Soon, he starts dragging YOU along to watch HIM do extremely risky activities and stunts.

• Like watching him bungee jump off the tallest building in the country while chugging 2 energy drinks at the same time as he records the whole thing for YouTube.

• Despite his newfound love for the most extreme of extreme, he's also content to just spend some time doing simpler risky activities like white-water rafting or rock climbing with you.

• If he ever gets injured (no matter how bad) it doesn't bother him in the slightest of course.

• However, if you get seriously hurt on the other hand, it sends all kinds of alarm bells off for him.

• He thinks that maybe he's to blame and that he's been a bad influence on you and your mortality.

• "IT'S MY FAULT!!! IT'S ALL MY FAULT!!!" Esidisi sobbed loud enough that his voice rang off the Hospital walls. Endless rivulets of hot tears left your shirt absolutely soaked where he clung to you like a limplet in the bed.

• You could only sigh, your gaze peering past the dense curls of the floof of his hair blocking your vision to your propped up leg and the clean white cast that had just been put on it.

• "Esidisi, this is NOT your fault." You told him, hands instinctively going to rub his back as the tears kept coming and coming. "I should've checked the tire on my bike before driving it down that hillside, it was just an accident. It's just a broken leg."

• (*bike crash* Fred voice: MY LEG!!!)

• Thankfully, his tears ebb when you tell him that he can sign your cast.

• He might even offer to take you across the world to sight see and do some more thrilling activities to make up for it when you're all healed if you're up for the adventure.

Wamuu:

• All of this started when Wamuu noticed that you had a bunch of strange gear in storage.

• When he asked you why you needed so many helmets and ropes and knee and elbow pads, you happily indulged him about your adrenaline seeking hobbies and how you liked to jump off cliffs.

• You definitely have some more explaining to do.

• Admittedly it takes Wamuu a good few minutes to wrap his head around it all.

• "So... you do all of these dangerous things... for a thrill?" He questioned, eyebrows knitted together. "To prove yourself?"

• As you nodded, grinning hugely, he realizes that he shares a similar trait by fighting worthy opponents in the arena.

• The most brutal, sweat inducing, heart pounding fights gave him great tenacity and you experienced the very same when climbing somewhere high or going fast.

• He wants to try this with you.

• Next thing he knows he's all geared up with a helmet and a harness and a rope, standing at the bottom of a HUGE Rockwall.

• "First one to the top wins," was all you said before starting to climb as fast as you could with the Warrior right behind you, a fierce gleam in his eye and a fang revealing grin.

• Though keeping mindful of your safety, he likes to challenge you and both of you find yourselves often pushing each other's limits.

• Who could climb the fastest? Row the fastest? Bike the fastest? Set up camp the fastest?

• If you happen to hurt yourself while playing your thrill little games together he's always prepared and will most definitely put a bandage on you when needed.

• Even Wamuu knows that the Hello Kitty ones heal the best.

• If you're ever unfortunate enough to do yourself enough damage to break something, that care shown for you doesn't change.

• In fact, he commends you for being so strong and will praise you even more when you talk about jumping right back into it when you're properly healed again.

• He won't let you go anywhere until that day comes though, no matter how up to the challenge you think you are.

• All in all, your determination and your fiery spirit is what makes him absolutely adore you afterall.

Santana:

• Like many things he faces, Santana is quite indifferent to heart-stopping stunts.

• It was no surprise really, he was an apex lifeform; there was nothing that could do him harm and he had faced many dangerous things in his life alone so there wasn't much that got his heart pounding.

• However his curiosity is piqued when he learns that you deliberately partook in risky activities just for the fun of it all.

• Be prepared for many questions as to what exactly you enjoyed doing and the benefit of doing it for you.

• If you should ask him to accompany you on an activity, he won't say no but he prefers to observe you rather than partake himself.

• He views every outing with you as a learning experience.

• He gets to learn all about the activity, its History and any gear you happen to bring along and then watch the ins and outs of it all first hand as you and maybe a few other Humans do it.

• He finds it interesting that Humans would take such risks when they are already the most fragile and flawed race in existence.

• He wasn't sure whether it was carelessness or maybe just plain not realizing your own mortality.

• If you happen to coax him into actually gearing up and doing an activity with you, don't expect any major reaction on his part when you get there.

• Whether it's skydiving, rock-climbing, white water rafting, poking a sleeping bear with a stick, you name it; you can't quite piece together what's going on in that head of his.

• He just looks almost bored the entirety of the time.

• "YEAHHHHH!!!" You squealed with glee, the air whistling in your ears as wind all around you whipped and whirled, plummeting straight from the sky.

• Santana was dead silent, arms folded and practically glaring at the ground where it sat miles upon miles away below you both.

• The only thing he was looking forward to after the parachute chord was pulled and his feet was on solid ground again was going to grab a bite to eat...

• However, while the activity doesn't, any injuries you happen to sustain from doing them spark a reaction in Santana.

• He doesn't like seeing you hurt, no matter how minor it is.

• That being said, the chances of you getting seriously hurt are very, very low with Santana always on watch while you're off having fun.

• If he has to, he'll throw himself under you and let his body go to rubber to give you a soft landing and prevent you from breaking something.

• All in all, he doesn't really mind your extreme hobbies. You alone give him a thrill by teaching him much new things.

[spilledkauffie]

Acceptance

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader Word Count: 1.3k T/W: Din has inner anxiety, but then fluff! A/N: Just a random scenario that came to mind, thought I’d share, hope you enjoy!

You were busy punching in the new destination coordinates while Din was down in the bay, shedding the Beskar. He usually opted to take at least the armour off while you were going to be in space for a few days. It was a very homey and personal feeling seeing Din walk around in his more “casual” outfits. You loved that he felt so comfortable around you. Beyond that, the fact that he showed his face to you was even more heart warming. It was a moment you didn’t push, nor pressure, but welcomed warmly when Din decided it was time. However, you still accepted his choice to wear or not wear the helmet, you understood it was habit and it was not an easy thing to adjust to for him, especially when you were literally the only exception.

You nodded, double checking the map, before heading down to the bay.

“Hey Din,” you said letting go of the ladder as you walked towards him, he had his back to you as he was retying a boot string, his helmet to the side of him, “I set the map to-”

Din startled hearing your voice coming closer, he stood, immediately taking his helmet in his hands as he spun on his heels to face you. He had begun lifting the helmet up to cover his face, but stopped when he realised it was you. He lowed his hands and swallowed harshly, heart starting to beat faster. His swift sudden actions had caused you to stop in your tracks, a little uncertain for a moment. 

Din noticed you glance down towards his hands that had instinctually reached out to grab his helmet as soon as you walked in. He fidgeted, not sure how to respond to what just happened, or if he should say something. His fingers were still clutching the metal rim of his helmet as you stood there. Now looking to him directly your eyebrows knit together as you nodded with soft eyes, turning towards the ladder back up to the cockpit. 

As soon as you turned away from him, Din gently squeezed his eyes closed, brows naturally furrowing as a response, guilt washed over him. He could hear you climbing the ladder, until a footstep on the metal floor above resounded. Exhaling a long held, disappointed sigh, Din sat down again. He kept replaying what he had done a matter of minutes ago-- he acted so fast he didn’t even think about what he was doing and what it must have seemed like to you.

He felt something he hadn’t in a long time; there was a dull, sting in his eyes, it felt like small prickles. He’d trained for so long to ignore this, to push it down, but this time he didn’t even make an effort to deny it. He stared at his helmet in his hands, suddenly the silver edges became blurry, the black slits fogged and for once from the outside, abruptly, and unexpectedly even to himself, Din threw his helmet across the ship bay, needing his hands to bury his face in. 

He kept his hands over his eyes for a moment, trying to find comfort in the darkness, but he couldn’t ignore the heavy tears that still fell along with the pounding in his chest, it felt tighter than usual. Brushing his hands up to his hair, he pushed back his dark waves. Keeping his eyes closed, he couldn’t help but think how he was hurting you. He had said he trusted you, he had shown you something no one else had seen, yet he still reached to hide it from you. 

He imagined how that made you feel, was he slowly breaking the bridge that had taken time and patience from you to build? You gave him no reason to not trust you. You���d been nothing but kind to him, accepting him like a family he never had, loving him like a lover he’d never had, and this was how he repaid you? It was heartbreaking and he felt guilty for it all. Lifting his head he tried to compose himself best he could. He felt the Razor Crest shift into hyperdrive and stood. Knowing you’d be in the cockpit by yourself made him all the more anxious, he feared his absence would send the wrong message, especially after what had happened. 

When he made his way up, you were standing over the controls, so he silently took a seat in the passenger chair, until he felt ready. Noticing he had brought his helmet with him again; he swiftly set it on the ground beside him. 

“Hey um,” he started, not looking your direction yet, but he could hear you turn to face him, “can we talk?”

When he looked up you weren’t glaring at him, your arms weren’t crossed, rather you were lovingly gazing at him, almost worried as you nodded. Somehow that made it harder. 

“What happened down there,” Din started, before swallowing and looking down to his hands he had clasped together, elbows resting on his thighs, “I didn’t mean to make you feel like I don’t trust you, because I do.”

You tilted your head, already seeing where this was going.

“I’m uh- I’m not good at this,” he admitted, almost chuckling at the inadequacy he felt inside, “but...it’s just a habit,” he looked up again, meeting your eyes, “it doesn’t mean I don’t trust you, it doesn’t mean I don’t love you, it doesn’t mean you don’t mean more to me or...anything. I guess it’s just me.”

You dropped your shoulders, stepping closer to him, before you crouched down between his legs, resting your forearms on the top of his thighs. Din straightened, a little shocked at the open affection you were giving him despite all the negative things he had assumed you were feeling towards him. 

“Din,” you shook your head as you softly smiled, “that’s not how I took it.” 

He tilted his head, slightly confused. Blinking and swallowing nervously again, he was going to start speaking, but didn’t, instead he looked to you, silently waiting for an explanation with furrowed brows.

“I know that you trust me, and beyond that I know that you love me,” you smiled, matching the tilt of his head with your own, “I also know that this is not something that will make or break my love for you, and...I need you to know that.”

His jaw tightened, the feeling was coming back in his eyes again, yet somehow it was different this time.

“You’ve spent years wearing this,” you reached for his helmet with one of your hands and he watched your movement, as you brought it between the two of you, “and I don’t expect you to break that anytime soon, it’s okay.” 

“You-you’re sure,” he asked softly.

“I am,” you gave an assuring nod, “because I know that you’re more than just those gorgeous brown eyes beneath a helmet,” you stared up into them, Din chuckled hoarsely at the compliment you used to break the unneeded tension, “Din, I fell in love with you without seeing your face,” you became a little more serious, “and I love you for everything,” you gently pushed the helmet his way, “that you are.”

Shakily, Din took the sides of his helmet in his hands as you reached yours up to caress his jawline whilst you pressed your forehead up against his, “you got that, bucket head?” Din smiled, you closed your eyes, feeling his tears roll over your hands. 

Suddenly a new feeling washed over him, drowning out any guilt: acceptance.

[thebadbatch]

Could I have a Hunter x reader imagine with scenario 12 and prompts 6 from sad and prompt 9 from angry/jealous/protective ? Female reader would be great :) thank you!!!

A/N: Thank you so much for your request! I really do hope this is what you were looking for! If there's anything your unhappy with let me know and I'll change it for you! :) I hope you enjoy it!

Hunter x FemReader

Plot: The reader gets into a troublesome situation during a mission with Hunter, luckily he's there to help!

Warnings: Descriptions of violence and Injury!

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Stay with me

Cid had another mission for you and the rest of The Bad Batch, which in all honesty, you were pretty thrilled about due to the high pay in credits. It would definitely give you enough to get your new gun upgrades with your share. Though, as the others had reminded you, the higher the pay the harder the mission would be and in all honesty you didn't take their words seriously until now. Currently, you were dragging yourself in your custom armour through the desert sweating and desperate for some kind of shade. Hunter was walking beside you, chuckling at your tired self as he fiddled with his knife. Only you two had been assigned to this area, the other four sticking with the ship to do some mandatory repairs. 

"Are we almost there?" You sighed, making sure your blaster was still hooked securely against your hip and trying your best to keep up with Hunter who really didn't seem to mind the heat. He laughed a little more, turning toward you as he softly grabbed your arm to pull you closer. 

"Keep up, soldier." Hunter reminded, placing his knife back against his arm and gazing around the deserted and broken ships covered in sand. "We shouldn't be too far off, we should head to that ship over there." His finger pointed toward a half broken star destroyer which seemed to have been deserted for many years, luckily for you two. 

"It looks uh, pretty broken up." You tilted your head a little as you both grew closer. "Is this definitely where the shipment is?" Hunter crouched alongside it, checking for a control panel he just knew was nearby despite the sand coating most of it. 

"Affirmative." Chuckling at his words, you crouched down beside him placing your knees against the sand that sunk down a little. You were familiar with this from your home planet, remembering how sand was always accompanied with a huge ocean - unfortunately not here though on Jakku. You swore if there was water right now you'd definitely be in it, kriff the credits. "Found it!" Hunter grinned as he slammed the control panel with one punch, the door opening and allowing sand to fall into it along with you two. The drop wasn't much, just enough to make you wobble a little and lose your footing. Hunter luckily had caught you, his arms around you which caused your face to heat up. Thank stars for your signature helmet, though you were pretty certain Hunter had picked up on your increased heart rate. Adjusting yourself with a little cough, you allowed your eyes to scan the ship you were on whilst activating your helmet torch with Hunter doing the same. 

"Right, find the supply shipment then we can head back to the Havoc, right?" You began to follow in his footsteps, keeping your blasters in your hands. 

"Yeah, sounds simple enough but there are gonna be some obstacles I'm certain." Hearing the footsteps belonging to you both echo around the metal hallway you both lingered in, you allowed a light sigh. 

"Obstacles? Like what?" You practically felt his grin with his blaster in hand ensuring the coast was clear. 

"This is your first time at Jakku, right?" You could only nod in response, genuinely curious to the dangers you both may face. "This place is home to thieves, outlaws and scavengers - just be on lookout alright?" You smirked under your helmet before turning the corner with him. 

"Nothing we can't handle, right?" Hunter stifled a laugh as you both approached another room, slamming the control panel down as it opened - surprised to find the room well lit with electricity pumping through the circuits. Keeping your blaster on you, you began to look around the room keeping an eye out for the crate you were assigned to collect. 

"Here." He grinned, turning toward the box and typing in the code Tech had given you both to open the crate and bring it back. "Right let's take it out of here and get back, I'm getting a bad feeling." With a quick nod, you pressed a button on it causing it to levitate as you pushed it forward, following Hunter's footsteps as a new layer of tension appeared. Something was up and he knew that, you both didn't want to run into any trouble. Though then again, it seemed too late for that as you were pulled back with a blaster placed to your head - your helmet being removed and tossed aside like it was nothing. 

"Hunter-" Your voice called, genuinely quaking as your blaster was tossed aside as well, clanking against the floor which made him turn around and pull out his knife beside his blaster. 

"Shut it, girl." The man snarled, pulling you closer and tilting the blaster against your head. "I believe that you're taking something that belongs to us, so in return I think we're going to be taking something that belongs to you." Hunter snarled and stepped forward, keeping his blaster pointed toward the man who held you and his knife threateningly turned toward the other person who had taken your gear. 

"Back away from y/n otherwise I swear to Maker you won't live to see tomorrow." 

The man who held you laughed, turning toward his friend who grabbed your blaster and pointed it toward Hunter who didn't hesitate to shoot at him. The blast unfortunately missed the man but hit the gun, resulting in it being thrown back across the room.

"Now you've just made a stupid mistake haven't you?" He growled, shooting down at your leg causing you to cry out for Hunter - falling against the man who moved the gun back against your skull. "Now drop your weapons and the girl lives, simple solution don't you think?" Hunter's face turned from seriousness to panic at your pain, reverting quickly to anger as he threw his gun and knife down against the floor. 

"Kill me but please, just leave y/n." His words were gentle as he knelt on the floor to the man's request, hands behind his head and his eyes grew glassy at your pained state. 

"What do you think we are? Generous?" He chuckled a little, his laugh a little psychotic. "Shoot him." As the other person raised the gun to Hunter, you screamed and kicked with your legs straight into the man's knee and once he fell back, you stomped on it ensuring it was broken. Dodging the bullets that the man on the floor and beside you shot, you kicked the gun away from him and held it yourself - shooting the other person with ease before collapsing against the floor. Hunter rushed toward you, grabbing his weapons and ensuring they were both down for the count. A movement from the other person made him snarl as he shot out at him before picking you up against his chest securely. 

"Y/n! Y/n come on stay with me." You sighed a little against his chest, whimpering at the sting of pain the bullet had caused against your leg - it was definitely bleeding but it was difficult to treat underneath your armour. Grabbing the crate, he laid you on top with your helmet and blaster beside you, pushing you out and straight back to the Havoc as promised. Whilst he was running with you, doing his best to keep you conscious, his words were pretty gentle. "It's alright Mesh'la I've got you, you're gonna be okay." You couldn't help but allow a smile to fall against your face, you felt awesome. Saving Hunters life definitely got you first dibs on rations until the guilt wore down - if it ever did for him anyway. You wouldn't let anybody hurt him just like he was about to give his life for you. Finally reaching the Havoc Marauder, you heard Hunter's pleas for help as he rushed in - Tech soon at your side with the others. 

"I'm fine." You coughed out, attempting to sit up only to wince at the pain as your armour was removed leaving you in your blacks so that Tech could assess your wound. 

"You're not fine but you'll live now you're here." With his words, he applied a bacta wrap to your leg after burning the wound shut. Your face was scrunched up with pain, Hunter holding your hand and threading his fingers through your hair. 

"Good girl." He smiled, keeping you back against him. Smiling against him, you held on gently before he huffed a little. "But don't you ever be that reckless again, I had a plan." Laughing a little, you turned your tired gaze to him. 

"Oh yeah? I didn't see you doing anything." He blushed a little at your words as he gently held you closer to him. 

"I'd lay down my life for you, y/n - I hope you realise that. I'd do it willingly, I always will." You nodded gently before pressing a light and thankful kiss to his cheek. 

"You won't have to with me around, now don't be so stupid next time." You chuckled gently as he smiled down at you as the others gently gathered around ensuring you were alright. As protective as he is, you knew he'd want to get his revenge somehow - their death wasn't enough. As long as you were alive with him though, you knew he'd be alright. He wouldn't go off the rails anytime soon with you keeping him in check. 

"Stay with me, y/n."

[deniigi]

A fic from Boba’s POV as a babysitter seeing Din’s family dynamics isn’t self indulgent it’s indulgent to your readers - fuck, that sounds like the best, most hilarious thing ever?!? (With peppered in bits of Boba’s identity crisis/diaspora feels)

I say you release babysitter boba fic ;) It sounds hilarious

Ask and you shall receive, anons. Beware. It’s like 11k of world building lol.

(I will post here and not on Ao3 because I’m not ready for that level of commitment rn lol)

Title: in the plains of Zeffo

Summary:

“I don’t like him,” Karren told Din.

“Concurred,” Din said.

“Ad’ika,” the Armorer scolded.

“I will not be shamed into liking him, either,” Din asserted.

“Din,” Karren whined.

“I’ll consider coming home if it means there will be no space for Bojzka,” Din said.

(Din’s original finder’s old crush on the Armorer is rekindled after he helps her reunite with Din. He tries to win her favor, but keeps getting tripped up by Din who knows she’s not interested. Boba Fett’s POV.)

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

There was little more entertaining than watching Djarin snap.

Boba ten years ago would have spat at the very idea that such meagre fare would suit his humor, but he was getting old, man. You had to take what you could get, and Djarin’s bared rage was a sight to behold.

Currently, he was locked in combat with Urro Bojzka. The Urro Bojzka. The one who even Boba had heard of, growing up on Kamino.

Dad had had some pointed feelings about Mr. Bojzka. Mainly, they revolved around how it was unfair that everyone called him an opportunistic traitor when Bojzka continued to exist and thrive in the universe at large, but Dad also had more specific feelings about Bojzka that bordered on jealousy.

Urro Bojzka was said to be the ideal Mandalorian man.

He was big. He was strong. He sounded like he’d smoked six different kinds of spice for forty years, and nothing and no one could take him down.

The cherry on top was that he was notorious for rescuing kids. The man had snatched nearly two hundred up out of smoking ruins and battlefields. A good twenty or thirty had become foundlings and then Mandalorians themselves, and counted among their number now, to Bo-Katan’s absolute glee, was their sweet, precious Din Djarin.

They should have known. Din was the epitome of Mandalorian; it figured that Urro Bojzka himself would have picked him up as a child.

Din however, had little appreciation for this fact beyond that which was only polite. He made it very clear that he’d already thanked Bojzka for taking him out of his childhood hellhole. He’d done that bare minimum and so no one could ask anything more of him.

Bojzka had other plans.

It turned out that Urro Bojzka had a thing for Din’s covert’s Armorer. God, did he have a thing. And not only did he have a thing, but he’d had it for decades.

Apparently, a thousand years ago, when Boba and Din and all the others around them had still been rolling around on dirt floors trying to eat beetles and shit, Bojzka had attempted to court Din’s Armorer. He’d gone as far and wide as a young Mando could. He’d tried flowers, perfume, credits, displays of strength and courage. He’d tried gifts of food and offers of travel. He’d even stooped so low as to read a book.

None of it had gone well for him. And that was probably because Din’s Armorer had recently proven herself to be no less than one of the heiresses of the Katzkai clan.

The Renda Bears. Those people were hard-fucking-core.

When Bo-Katan found out that Din’s ‘Goran’ was, in fact, Nomri Katzkai, the second daughter of Lanlee Katzai and the official apprentice of Fii Katzkai, the imperial Armorer himself, she threw up her hands and declared all endeavors hopeless now.

Din was one of them; he just didn’t know it. And his buir, who had removed herself from her family to be even more hardcore than anyone would have thought possible, didn’t seem overly excited to start explaining shit to him anytime soon.

So here they were. With Din about to kill one of the most famous war heroes in recent Mandalorian history over a crush that wouldn’t quit.

Bojzka smiled at him with dark eyes with scars through both of his eyebrows.

“Just a message,” he lobbied. “One letter.”

Boba would’ve fucked him. Yeah, why not? Just look at him.

“She’s busy,” Din said. “You’ll have to submit it to Eegang Quodo. That’s E-e-g-a—”

“Yeah, see. Here’s the thing, kid. This letter’s gonna be kinda personal, if you catch my drift—”

“Q-u-o—”

“—probably not great for the eyes of anyone who ain’t, you know, in on this whole relationship—”

“—d-o. He’s usually busy, too. So you probably should submit it to Paz, instead. He’ll lose it for you forever. That’s P-a-z—”

Fennec hid a razor-sharp grin behind a clenched fist. She flashed it at Boba.

‘I love him’ she mouthed, pointing at Din’s hiked-up shoulders. Even his cape seemed to have gone stiff in Bojzka’s presence.

“Din, honey. Listen to me,” Bojzka crooned. “I know you’re protective of your mama, but—”

“She’s not my mother. Don’t you fucking dare call her that, you hulking piece of—”

“Ah-ah-ah. You’re not listening. Come on. Chin up. Ears open.”

Bojzka tapped at the bottom of Din’s helmet like a CO with a teenage recruit, and Fennec just about screamed when Din went completely still and silent.

Bo-Katan met Boba’s gaze out of the corner of her eye. She mimed a syringe. Boba shook his head. If this fucker got bit, he deserved whatever infection it brought.

“Atta boy,” Bojzka said to Din’s rigid silence. “Here’s how it is: your mama and me go way, way back. And you know, after your touching reunion the other week, she even went and had a drink with me, and we got to talkin’ and started to reconnect, the old folks do. And I could read her body language, Din-Din. She wants a man. And that man’s me. So instead of actin’ like a child over all this, why don’t we—”

“She wanted Naseem,” Din snapped. “But Naseem died. Twenty years ago, he died. You just wear similar boots.”

Get ‘im, Djarin. Get ‘im.

“I—who?” Bojzka snapped.

“Naseem,” Din repeated like he was an idiot. “Traditional, bantha-sized, green armor. He worked all the time to keep all the kids in the covert fed.”

Bojzka processed this.

“Naseem what?” he asked stiffly.

“He’s dead,” Din said. “And Hajka left. So no. Goran needs neither a man or a woman, and especially not you. What she needs is a break and for Karren to stop fighting people on sight.”

Bojzka backtracked like a champ.

“Karren, that’s her youngest, right?” he asked. “Well, I bet Karren could use some sisters. I bet he’s lonely over there on, uh.”

“Zeffo,” Din gritted out. “And no. He’s not. He has three sisters. One of which is still at the covert, terrorizing him left and right.”

Even Bo-Katan could only empathize so much with Bojzka, war hero or nah.

“Why’re you all up in arms, Din? What’d I do to you?” Bojzka finally asked. “Don’t you want your buir to be happy?”

Din’s shoulders finally came down from his helmet.

“Of course, I do,” he said. “Which is why if you set so much as a toe on Zeffo, I’m taking both of your knees with me to Yavin.”

 --

Any parent would have been proud to have Din as their child. He took family honor to a level that even the Katzkai clan would have had a hard time sniffing at.

He had to have learned this from the wayward heiress. Although, if Boba was honest, he didn’t really think that the wayward heiress was all that wayward.

She’d come to visit Din on Tatooine. She was short and stocky and not terribly interested in the court or anyone outside of Din.

She wasn’t nearly as hostile as Bo-Katan expected either. She didn’t appear to love anything that she was looking at, no, but Din had explained that that was mostly because she wasn’t really a fan of him having become Mand’alor to start with.

When she came to visit, anyways, she was far more interested in getting a good fuss in to give herself peace of mind that Din was okay. That way she could then go back to dealing with the apparently endless series of crises at the new covert.

She was a great parent in that way. She even brought along her youngest, so that he could see his big brother.

That kid was fuckin’ adorable. Maybe fourteen or fifteen years old. Barely, barely, barely in armor. He was strapped into his leathers so tight, he looked like he was stuffed with straw.

He had medium-brown skin with yellow undertones and huge, nearly-black eyes. Coarse black hair poured into his face and curled around his ears—and if he thought he was going to stuff all that in a helmet one day, he had another thing coming.

He bopped after his buir when they entered the palace and stopped occasionally to stare up in awe at the palace’s high ceilings. Upon realizing that he’d lost his escort, he scampered along to catch up and did the whole thing again and again until buir had enough and snatched his hand.

He didn’t like that. He was fourteen-fifteen years old. He was too big for hand-holding, buir.

Never too old to be ignored, though.

“Goraaaaaan.”

“Hush,” the Armorer told him. “Keep up.”

He was handed off to Boba outside Din’s personal quarters, mostly because he was making such a fuss at the Armorer that she began contemplating leaving him at the palace forever. Din intervened and the kid latched onto him instead until Din convinced him that he’d be available talk just as soon as he and their buir were done speaking.

The kid’s name was Karren.

He and Boba were now best friends.

“—so Goran said, ‘I’m not having that idiot in my rooms.’ But then Eegang said, ‘we already have Paz in these rooms,’ and you’re not supposed to laugh, Mr. Fett, but we all did because we’re all stupid. So we had to do like, a thousand chores for eavesdropping.”

“So she’s not into him, then?” Fennec clarified. “He’s really into her, you know.”

“Of course, I know,” Karren lamented. “But Goran’s picky and the last person she was all close with was Hajka and we’re not allowed to talk about her anymore or Din’ll make you do two hundred push-ups while he watches.”

Amazing. Say more about Din’s oldest-child syndrome, little one.

“No, I like Din,” Karren sighed. “Now that Digo’s gone, he’s even nicer.”

Oh?

“What happened to Digo?” Boba asked as Bo-Katan joined them in curiosity.

“Digo’s a jerk is what happened,” Karren huffed. “She wanted Goran to give over the forge and join the elders, but Goran isn’t even that old. So when she said ‘no,’ Digo got mad and said that the only foundling Goran respects is Din. Which is bullshit because everyone knows that Goran has always been the nicest with Digo and Nasif—she made all sorts of excuses for them, Mr. Fett, like when they went out and got caught stealing parts like Jawas, she did four whole hunts to raise their bail. When Din gets in trouble, he takes care of it himself. He doesn’t ask Goran to do that kind of thing. And me and Shimmol just don’t get in that kind of trouble to start with—but no. Digo had to be all ‘if you don’t treat us as equals, then we’re gonna leave and start our own forge.’”

“No kidding,” Fennec said. “So they left?”

“Yeah, both of them ‘cause Nasif does anything Digo tells her to,” Karren said, kicking his feet. “And good riddance.”

Too many sisters, this one had. Boba felt for him.

“So Goran’s still recovering from that betrayal, I take it?” he asked.

Karren frowned and chewed a lip.

“I dunno,” he admitted. “No one tells me anything. I think that Goran’s been more worried about Din than them after all that happened. We thought he got crunched by the jedi—or at least I thought he got crunched. Paz says that Jedis compact Mandalorians into cubes of armor and Din’s got the best armor.”

Do not laugh at the child. Do not laugh at the child.

“I don’t think Jedis crunch Mandalorians,” Bo-Katan said generously, having snuck into the bare antechamber while everyone was distracted with the kid’s story.

“Well, I do,” Karren countered, with zero conception of who he was talking to.

Fennec beamed.

“Do you like this Urro guy?” she asked.

“No,” Karren answered immediately. “He’s sent Eegang four messages and they’re all gross.”

Yep.

It was gonna be a late puberty for this one.

“What makes them gross?” Bo-Katan asked.

“The mush,” Karren said expertly. “Bojzka calls Goran ‘Nomri.’ That’s a bad word at home. No one says that word. Goran is ‘Goran.’ The only people who call her anything else are the elders.”

“And you and your siblings, no?” Bo-Katan asked.

Karran cocked his head at her.

“Yeah, and ‘buir’ I guess, if we aren’t in trouble,” he said.

Bless him.

“Are you in trouble a lot?” Bo-Katan asked.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“I dunno. I got a temper or something.”

“Is Din in trouble?”

“With buir? No, not like me and Shimmol. He’s too old to be in that kind of trouble. His trouble’s like ‘help, I fell a hundred feet off a cliff’ kind of trouble. He gives Goran indigestion, but she can’t make him reflect on falling a million feet out of a ship—Eegang says that’s called ‘rehashing trauma.’”

The covert on Zeffo sounded like it was holding itself together through sheer force of will and that alone.

Where did Boba sign up? It sounded like a fantastic experiment to pass the time.

“Are you a foundling, Karren?” Boba asked.

The kid lit up.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ve been with Goran for five years now. Six in a few months. My dad’s a piece of shit. He killed my mom, and Goran got him arrested for that and for what he did to my auntie.”

Well, fuck. That explained a lot.

“And you like it there—on Zeffo?” Bo-Katan asked.

Karren shrugged.

“It’s cold and wet,” he said. “I liked Nevarro better. Din was home more on Nevarro.”

Awww.

“Aren’t you proud of Din for becoming Mand’alor?” Bo-Katan asked as gently as she could manage.

Karren’s frown eased up finally.

“No,” he said. “Din should just come home. He doesn’t need to be Mand’alor or married to some jedi. He should just come home. It’s stupid; his foundling should have stayed with us from the start. We always have room for more foundlings. I dunno why he had to leave with his foundling at all.”

Bo-Katan sat back and sighed.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “If it helps, I think he just wants to come home, too.”

“So let him,” Karren blurted out to her.

Tough tits, kid. That wasn’t how it worked.

“I think we should perhaps focus on one thing at a time,” Bo-Katan said. “What do you think, Fett?”

What did Boba think?

Boba thought that he had a great idea to distract this kid from missing his big brother.

 ---

Karren was perhaps a little too small still to reach the brakes in the crawler, but you know what? So was Fennec sometimes and she did just fine.  

“Gas,” Boba said, pointing. “Neutral. Brake. Park.”

“Gas, neutral, brake, park,” Karren repeated to him with his hands on the wheel and his knobbly wrists peeking out from the gap between his gloves and his leather braces.

Bo-Katan had refused to be present or responsible for this. Fennec had told them to wait while she went and took a shot first. ‘For safety’ she said.

“What’s neutral for?”

“You’re about to tell me,” Boba said, adjusting the rear view mirrors down to kid-height.

The sound of Fennec throwing herself onto the back of the crawler rattled through to their compartment.

“That’s our signal,” Boba said. “You ready to jam?”

“Jam?” Karren asked him.

Hm.

Punch it?

“Punch what?”

The fuck kind of slang did they use at the covert?

“Rock?”

“OH. Yeah, I’m ready.”

There we go. Onward march then.

 ---

An hour later, Din sighed with Karren whining under his arm.

“There is a reason he’s not trained yet, Fett,” Din said as Karren started chomping on the bunched-up flightsuit in his elbow.

The Armorer pressed both palms into the forehead of her helmet.

The crawler had perhaps seen better days. But it had also seen worse days, and Fennec was still going through little loops of cackling at the memory of having to chase after its open tailgate. Boba didn’t understand what all the fuss was about. The kid had done amazingly well for his first time at the wheel.

“I’m leaving all of you,” Karren grated out, trying miserably to escape Din’s elbow-prison. “I want to be Mr. Fett’s foundling.”

Bless him.

“You don’t,” Din told him forcefully. “Fett can’t handle a foundling.”

Ay, Boba would drink to that. He was happy to be a foundling-sitter and borrower, though.

“Buir,” Karren pleaded.

“You make me tired, child,” the Armorer told him. “Say goodbye to vod.”

“NO.”

Din sighed. The Armorer sighed. Karren, in a beautiful 180, latched onto Din’s ribs again.

“Come hooooooome,” he pleaded with Din.

“I caaaaaaan’t,” Din drawled back at him in a delightfully uncharacteristic tone.

“These people don’t need you. We need you. Shimmol took your bed and if you don’t take it back, she’s gonna keep it.”

Din’s shoulders dropped.

“I told Shimmol that she could take my bunk, Karren,” he said. “I’m not using it—”

“BUT YOU COULD BE.”

Boba took it back. He could take on a foundling. Fuck it, why not? This one was great.

“Come here,” Din said, dragging the kid up to his toes. He knocked the front of his helmet against Karren’s forehead with enough force that the bump was noticeable. That made the kid shut up and stand up straight on his own volition again.

“Soon,” Din told him forcefully. “Behave for buir.”

“Promise,” Karren demanded.

“Ehn.”

“Din, promise.”

“I dunno, kid. I’ve got a husband and all these damn kids to worry about.”

“Bring them. All of them.”

“No room,” Din said without missing a beat. “You have no idea how much space the husband needs to thrive.”

“Well, if you don’t come, then Urro’s gonna try to move in,” Karren snapped.

Din actually paused at that. The Armorer shook her helmet.

“Territorialism becomes neither of you,” she said. “If Urro wishes to join our covert, then we will treat him as we treat any other who wishes to.”

Din’s helmet seemed to squint at her. Karren glared outright.

“I don’t like him,” he told Din.

“Concurred,” Din said.

“Ad’ika,” the Armorer scolded.

“I will not be shamed into liking him, either,” Din asserted.

“Din,” Karren whined.

“I’ll consider coming home if it means there will be no space for Bojzka,” Din said.

“Carry on with your work and give my best to the jedi and the child,” the Armorer said with an air of dismissal. “Come, Karren. Thank you three for looking after him. Apologies for the vehicle. Come.”

Boba missed that kid already.

 --------

Bojzka, Boba had to say, really had no shame and he could almost appreciate that. Either that, or Din’s buir was a catch that the rest of them were failing to appreciate.

“How bad can it be?” the guy mused at Din’s stiff, furious hands mere days after the Armorer and Karren’s departure. “It’s a helmet, right? You can take it off with the people who matter, no?”

“We do not take it off,” Din said from between clenched teeth.

“Right, I got that. But there are exceptions for kids and spouses,” Bojzka said. “Or did I misread that part?”

Din was going to start shaking at any minute now. Bo-Katan assigned Boba the task of making sure he didn’t commit War-hero-homicide while she went off to find a calming device. It was only polite. It wasn’t Bojzka’s fault after all that he’d come in right after a tense meeting with a dissident group from Mandalore itself that made even Bo-Katan’s jaw jump.

“I think the rule is more important than the exceptions here,” Boba pointed out on Din’s behalf. “Joining the Children of the Watch isn’t something to take lightly.”

Din pointed at him wordlessly. Bojzka lazily followed the finger and then pointedly ignored Boba.

“What I’m hearing is that if we marry first, nothing changes,” he said.

Din’s index finger curled in with the rest of his knuckles until it was a fist.

“She is not looking to marry,” he said.

“What, so you speak for her now?”

“She is not looking to marry.”

“I can repeat things, too. Wanna see? You don’t speak for Nomri, Din.”

Boba was getting the feeling that Ms. Katzkai sort of did let Din speak for her in these types of situations. He was, after all, her oldest. And it sounded like he was the most loyal of her foundlings, too. If she shared anything personal with anyone besides her second in command, then it was going to be Din. That was just how these things worked.

“Did you call Eegang?” Din asked.

“I did,” Bojzka said. “He’s not especially helpful, I have to say. He keeps sending my missives back to me with grammar corrections.”

No. No. Keep it in, Boba. Keep it stoic.

“Eegang is the second CO at the covert,” Din said. “If you won’t take my word for it, then you’ll take his.”

Bojzka arched a fucked-up eyebrow.

“Eegang, the same guy who is allegedly secretly married to his partner? That Eegang?” he asked.

Din balked. Boba felt like electricity had just rocketed through him.

“Eegang is—” Din started.

“Nomri told me about him,” Bojzka said off-handedly. “She seems to think that he’s bitten off more than he can chew with taking on his last kid.”

“Eegang—”

“Something about baby being blind? Funny, did you not think that she trusted me enough to talk about her people?”

Any more of this and steam would start rising from the lip of Din’s helmet.

Thankfully, Bo-Katan returned with the jedi, AKA the calming device. Skywalker even came equipped with Grogu. They both appeared very confused and innocent, what with Skywalker drowning in his formal robes. They looked like they were going to absorb Grogu at any moment.

A+ distraction work, Kryze. Well done making yourself useful.

“Who’s Eegang?” Skywalker asked.

The line pulled taut across Din’s shoulders began to loosen.

“A comrade,” he said sharply in Bojzka’s direction.

“Is he nice?” Skywalker asked. Grogu chirped at him and resumed trying to dig into his multitude of collars.

“Very nice,” Din confirmed, staring deep into Bojzka’s eyes.

“He’s got foundlings, too?” Skywalker asked.

“Two,” Din confirmed. “Who he adores. Regardless of all challenges.”

Ah. It wasn’t just Eegang Din was protective of. It was the baby. Bojzka had really stuck his foot into that one.

“I’m sure the foundlings are fine,” Bojzka said. “It was just Nomri’s concern that—”

“Stop calling her that in my presence,” Din said. “In fact, let’s drop the whole thing now.”

 --------

Boba wanted to meet secretly-married Eegang. He sounded like he had a rich interior life. Din gave him a strong look and said that if the Armorer had left the covert, Eegang would not. One of them had to be there at all times.

Bo-Katan asked what Eegang’s speciality was.

Surprise, surprise: it was diplomacy.

Kryze was now invested. She followed Din around on his heels and suggested that if the Armorer gave words to Eegang to deliver during a formal meeting with the Mand’alor, then Bojzka might finally get the picture that Katzkai wasn’t interested in him.

Din thought about that.

He asked if this was not just a ploy for Boba and Bo-Katan to rally his covert comrades against him.

And it honestly wasn’t until he phrased it like that.

 -----------

Eegang was tall, sea-green, and in Bojzka’s face without so much as a by-your-leave.

“Three tests,” he threatened Bojzka with a baby on his hip. “One: stop sending transmissions. Two: get Elder Fayrz to approve your presence. Three: make even one of Goran’s foundlings like you. If you pass all three, your admission will be taken into consideration.”

The baby was very pink with curly hair so pale it was almost white. Its blue-gray eyes moved rapidly back and forth as it cuddled into its buir’s teal armor. Bojzka glanced from it to Eegang’s chipped helmet.

“Where did you find him?” he asked.

“Please give confirmation of your understanding,” Eegang said mechanically.

“He’s kinda cute.”

“Please give confirmation of your understanding.”

“Are you a droid or somethin’?”

“Please give—”

“Alright, alright. Fuck. This is confirmation of my understanding.”

“Excellent. This conversation is over,” Eegang said. “It is your responsibility to contact the elder and earn the approval.”

Bojzka jerked.

“Wait, what?” he said. “How am I supposed to do that if y’all won’t even let me through the door?”

Eegang’s helmet tipped so daintily to the side that Boba could have shed a tear.

“That sounds like a you-problem,” Eegang said.

 -----------

Eegang thereafter blocked Bojzka out of his mind and heart. He introduced himself with a dipping motion to Kryze and Boba that probably would have been more dramatic if he’d opted to wear a cape, which he did not. He revealed himself to be exceedingly polite and very fond of Din, though—if the gentle armor tapping and the use of the word ‘little brother’ was anything to go by. Din was usually receptive to gestures like that, Boba had learned, but not this time.

No, no. Din cared not for his ‘big brother.’ He cared only for the attention of Eegang’s baby.

“His name is Mesa,” Eegang explained after Din had kidnapped said baby. He introduced Mesa to Grogu who was stationed nearby, stuffed in the sleepy jedi’s shirt this time. . Grogu waved from Skywalker’s chest, but Mesa didn’t register the motion.

“His grandmother was quite ill, and it was her dying wish to see the child placed into the care of someone trustworthy. I have to admit, though, I may have made the decision a little rashly,” Eegang hummed as he watched Grogu lean as far as he could out of Skywalker’s clothing to try to make contact with his fellow foundling.

“Is he your first?” Bo-Katan asked.

Eegang winced.

“No, uh. I’ve got another,” he said. “She’s a huge fan of certain someones.”

“Me,” Din said without hesitation.

“And Paz,” Eegang said. “Which is a deadly combination.”

“She will be a mighty warrior,” Din informed Mesa and Skywalker. Skywalker twitched awake and didn’t understand anything that was happening. He noticed the baby, cooed, and waved with his gloved hand.

“She’s declared this one goat her nemesis and I cannot—I cannot—get her to just leave it alone,” Eegang said.

“A goat clan in the making,” Din said with approval.

“I’m hearing unnecessary commentary,” Eegang said without looking at him. “Please rephrase or shut up.”

Din seemed to gloat at the scolding. Skywalker glanced between him and his tall, teal comrade. He made his move and carefully came in to extract baby Mesa from Din’s arms to add him to his ever-growing collection. Grogu cooed again, closer now. He offered Mesa a hand, and this time, Mesa perked up and tried to grab at it clumsily.

“You manage the covert in the Armorer’s absence?” Bo-Katan asked Eegang. “You must be very dedicated to the Children of the Watch.”

“Define ‘manage’ and then ‘dedicated,’” Eegang said. “I prefer ‘accidentally charged with responsibility one too many times’ and ‘in too deep to turn back now.’”

“He’s being humble,” Din said. “Eegang has brokered peace between our covert and locals on numerous occasions.”

Eegang’s shoulders started to raise.

“Stop telling people that, they’re going to expect things from me,” he said, then popped back up like flipped switch. “Oh, I totally forgot why I even came. Jedi?”

Skywalker looked up from the conference of baby talk happening in his arms all wide-eyed, as though he’d been caught in the act of stealing imperial property.

“We did not welcome you into our covert,” Eegang said, “You must allow us to present you with a gift of welcome and entry.”

Oho. Very formal. Boba folded his arms and watched Skywalker for his reaction.

“A what?” Skywalker asked.

 -------

Bojzka was somewhat justifiably upset at the double standard going on here.

Skywalker was a jedi and yet welcomed into the covert with open arms and no admission requirements. He was, in fact, measured against his will for a set of armor. This was what Din’s buir had actually been after when she’d sent Eegang along to say hi.

Boba found that he enjoyed the reciprocation of ulterior motives that they were getting from Din’s covert. Kryze had never been happier. This was a game that she knew how to play.

“Wait no, hold up,” Bojzka interrupted. “I deserve a chance. Din, at least give me the name of one of your siblings so I can track them down with the elder.”

Din didn’t want to; there were foundlings happening and another meeting soon, but eventually even he had to give the guy something.

An honorable battle required at least two willing bodies.

 -----------

Din and Karren’s remaining sibling at the covert’s name was Shimmol. According to Din, Bojzka had next to no chance of gaining her favor because she did not leave the forge and therefore Bojzka had no access to her. Eegang corrected Din and said that Shimmol did, in fact, leave the forge, but never on her own volition.

She was preferred the dark. She hated social interaction.

To circumvent that, the Armorer had refused to induct her into the trade until she proved herself able to coexist with others. But Shimmol was eighteen, that fun age where no incentive or punishment was effective and digging your heels in was far more preferable to doing a damn thing your elders mentioned.

She’s announced that very weekend that she was officially becoming a recluse. Her present aspiration in life was apparently now to become a forge spider.

Bojzka, along with everyone else, had no idea how to receive this information. Kyrze took it upon herself to pat Bojzka on the shoulder and tell him to start with the elder. He might actually have some luck that way.

 -------

It took two weeks for Bojzka to re-emerge from whatever hellhole he’d had to walk a tightrope across to locate the covert’s elder Fayrz. He climbed in through Din’s personal quarters’ window and interrupted him and the Jedi in a moment of infrequent intimacy.

The sound of a body being throw over a bannister had a special kind of thud to it. Boba was up on out of his quarters in an instant.

Din flung Bojzka’s helmet after him. Skywalker had the grace to cover Djarin’s face with his shirt and walk him back into the room before anyone caught sight of it, telling Boba and Fennec, who had also emerged from her bed, prepared for drama, that all was fine. There was just a misunderstanding.

His bare torso was covered in scars. Boba found himself somehow surprised and impressed as the jedi unsuccessfully wrangled his furious husband back in the direction of bed.

He and Fennec peeked over the banister to see what had become of Bojzka. He was fine.

Fennec informed Boba that she was claiming part of his bed ‘in case anything else good happened’ since he was closer.

 -----

In the morning, Din was in marginally better spirits. Skywalker was to be found at his side, walking backwards and tripping over his cloak every four paces. He truly knew how to hit all Din’s ‘endeared’ buttons. If not to the earnestness and the near-miss of a disaster on the stairs, it would have looked like manipulation.

Bojzka attempted to rectify the peace by breaking into the court through one of the windows high up on the wall outside the second floor’s conference room.  This time, to ensure that he had Din’s full attention, he removed the jedi from the equation. Or he tried to anyways.

The jedi, in a split second, decided that, all joking aside, today, he would not be moved. His green saber managed to glow even in the sunlight pouring in to the hall.

“Do not touch,” he ordered, with both feet planted and Din and Grogu securely at his back.

Bojzka cocked his head at the saber pointed right at his nose.

“That’s a fun trick,” he said.

“Do not touch,” Skywalker repeated. “Me, him, or the child.”

“I’ll think about it,” Bojzka said. “Stand down before you regret it.”

“Luke,” Din said testily. “He’s not worth it.”

“Make me regret it,” Skywalker said to Bojzka.

Bojzka’s eyes widened slightly in interest. He used the back of his wrist to try to nudge the saber’s tip away and snapped his hand away from the burn.

“Do you expect me to be afraid of you, jedi?” he asked, trying to play it off.

Skywalker’s eyes reflected the light of his saber.

“Ask him what the glove’s for,” Fennec called from the far hall. Bojzka scoffed. Skywalker didn’t move.

“What happened to your hand?” Bojzka asked.

“My father cut it off,” Skywalker said. “But not to worry, I got a new one. Now step back. Sir.”

Bojzka didn’t move for a long time.

“Does it feel good to walk in the presence of these people?” he asked. “Is it a kink for you the way it was for your master?”

Boba had officially lost the plot. These were old politics now. Kryze would know what Bojzka was talking about, if only she deigned to come out from wherever she was hiding, which she wouldn’t. Of course.

“Does it offend you? My presence here?” Skywalker asked back without emotion.

“It doesn’t,” Bojzka said.

“I’m glad. That’s very convenient for me. I’d feel terrible if you bled out on these tiles,” Skywalker said. “So move.”

And goddamn. The mountain finally yielded to the sky.

 -------

Skywalker spent the rest of the day on high alert, with one hand on the hilt of his saber and his full concentration tied up with making fierce eyes into the palace’s corners to keep Bojzka at bay. It was really something to see. Din looked about ready to lay his fingers on his heart and swoon, and that was more than fair. If Boba’s spouse threatened to kill a man for looking at him wrong, he’d be touched too.

Fennec told Boba that she’d protect him from a man the size of a bantha but no larger, and it just didn’t have the same kind of ring.

She apologized and he told her it was fine. It was just in the delivery--and also, he’d murder anyone so blinked at her wrong, too.

She was pleased. Boba was glad they were on the same page.

“Let’s go find Kryze to negotiate,” Fennec said, “I need to know why Old Faithful’s back.”

 --------

Kryze’s commanding voice wrang out of Bojzka the real reason for his presence. The truth of the matter was that, War Hero aside, he was having a hell of a time getting the covert elder to grant him a second look.

Din told him that that was the point. Elder Fayrz was like that all day, every day and he’d change for no body, spiritual or physical. He bothered people when he wanted to bother them, and the rest of the time, he liked to pretend he was senile. He only really ever showed up if someone was buying a round or their life was in the balance.

Skywalker said that he sounded a lot like his late master.

Din agreed and said that Elder Fayrz had dedicated his life to two things: the covert children and fungi. Somehow, he made those two interests overlap. Din recalled being twelve and being taken out on a ‘mission’ by the old man who had informed him that he required his nose.

Elder Fayrz had no sense of smell. For a man with a fungi interest, he called this ‘very dangerous business indeed.’

Kryze demanded to know if all the weirdest Mandalorian elders still living had congregated at Din’s cohort which he quickly confirmed. Bojzka, however, demanded to know what would make this elder look him in the eye.

Din told him to go find a deathbed and lay on it.

He remembered belatedly to add ‘nearby Elder Fayrz’ to that statement.

 ----------

After about a month of this kind of back and forth, the Armorer decided that she’d had enough. She did not come to the Dune Sea. She sent a missive to Din informing him that he was coming home.

‘To talk,’ she said.

Boba vaguely remembered Karren saying something along the lines of ‘Din doesn’t get into trouble anymore,’ and was pleased to find that that was not the case. Din already knew what awaited him at his home covert and anyone with slightly more than a rock for a brain could see that it wasn’t going to be hugs and kisses.

Bojzka volunteered to accompany Din as a guard when the jedi made himself conveniently unavailable. Kryze and Boba flipped a coin while Din resisted stabbing him, and of course Boba won. Kryze flipped it again to be sure, and Boba told her sweetly that he’d send her a postcard.

“Have fun with the schmucks lounging around this place,” he gloated at Bo-Katan’s rolling shoulders.

She gave him two naughty fingers.

Whatever, girl. Sucks to suck. Bye, bye, now. Come on, Fennec. There’s adventure to be had.

 ---------

It was a ways to the new covert on Zeffo. Several hours, in fact, many of which were spent playing ‘I spy’ with Fennec while Bojzka gritted his teeth and asked them if they were always like this.

Fennec got Din to join in at that comment.

Eventually they ran out of white dwarfs and capes to identify and settled down into silence until the ship declared landing to be imminent.

Karren remembered Boba and the second he set foot inside the curiously constructed covert entrance. The kid came hurtling up to tackle him and wrap arms around his middle. It was endearing. Boba checked the doors to see if a guard would notice a kidnapping.

Fennec reminded him of child-based expenses. Her wisdom was invaluable as usual.

Karren scrambled away from Boba and, for a moment, made like he was going to attach himself to Din’s armor, but instead wriggled past Din to go tearing down the hallway. He skidded, crashed, and then clambered into a different room at the dead end of what appeared to be a row of barracks. Seconds later, Eegang exploded from one of the rooms adjacent wearing no armor but his helmet. He flung himself through the same doorway Karren had vanished through.

Din tilted his head.

“It’s fine,” a voice said behind them.

Their small party turned to see a woman wearing a cool purple helmet with only her flakvest on. Eegang’s pale baby was sat on her hip, pawing at her chest, trying to find purchase in the vest.

“Sotra,” Din greeted.

“Welcome back, brat-child,” Sotra said. “We missed you.”

This had to be Eegang’s secret-wife; unless she’d stolen that gurgling foundling in the night or something.

“Electrical?” Din asked, pointing at the far room.

“Loft,” Sotra said. “There’s hay, so of course all the kids have to be in it.”

“Just hay?” Din asked.

“And goats,” Sotra said.

Ah.

“We raise goats now?” Din asked.

“Oh, no, no,” Sotra said, sashaying past him towards the room her husband had abandoned, “It’s either coexistence or war, I’m afraid. The forge is past the hangar, keep going through the kitchens. Voxie knows you’re here—he’s awake, by the way. Welcome home, Din.”

“Thanks,” Din said. “This is my advisor, Boba Fett and our friend Fennec.”

Sotra splayed her whole, tall body into the doorway of her and Eegang’s barracks just as a fearsome battle cry sounded out on the other side.

“Hi,” she said.

“RELEASE ME,” a child in front of her about hip-height with serious bedhead shrieked in Mando’a.

Fennec’s eyebrows launched up to her forehead. Boba felt like he needed to record this so that Kryze understood what she was missing.

“Vod Din is home,” Sotra told the child.

“DIN.”

“Shhhh.”

“RELEASE M—mmf.”

“Shhhhh. It’s quiet time,” Sotra said with her free hand over the child’s mouth. “We’re being quiet.”

Din chuckled.

“Hey, Samo,” he said.

Samo let loose an ear-piercing scream behind her buir’s hand and ducked under Sotra’s legs. She ran at Din like there was a bomb behind her. Din caught her and swung her up to perch on his arm and she kicked relentless at his tassets in excitement.

“Shhh,” Din said. “People are sleeping—”

“YOU’RE THE MAND’ALOR. YOU’RE THE MAND’ALOR. YOU’RE THE—”

Doors started opening all down the line of barracks. A few curious, hazy, and lopsided helmets poked out from some of them, and from others, calls of ‘EYYYYYYY’ and chats ‘ALL HAIL THE MAND’ALOR’ started up, to Din’s immediate mortification.

This, Boba was delighted to realize, was not a cry of honor.

These half-asleep fuckers had been waiting months to embarrass Din. And he’d known that this would happen.

“Be quiet,” Din snapped all around him. “The elders are sleeping, you’re going to—”

“Well, well, well, look who’s finally home,” a taunting voice rang out on top of the rush. “If it isn’t the Mand’alor himself.”

“Paz,” Din sighed. “Not now.”

“When could there possibly be a better time, your liege?” a huge Mandalorian wearing full blue armor despite the early hour drawled from the doorway he’d attempted to casually lean in. Samo’s braids flew as her round cheeks snapped his way.

“Paz, don’t be mean,” she told him from atop Din’s arm. “Or it’ll be to the goats with ya.”

“Fuck me, the goats, what ever will I do?” Paz scoffed.

“BUIR, PAZ SAID A BAD WORD.”

“I heard him,” Sotra said scathingly, right at Paz’s visor.

“To the goats,” Paz’s neighbor hissed at him.

The hissing was taken up just as quickly as the earlier ‘all hails’ had been. Paz told everyone to shut up and mind their own asses. He was publicly booed until Eegang emerged from the loft room with Karren stuffed under an arm and demanded to know why people were congregating in the halls. He reminded everyone that that shit was a fire hazard, and in doing so, his tone changed completely from easy-going to Commanding Officer and the effect was immediate.

People scurried back into their rooms like frightened mice until there wasn’t a single open door left in the whole line.

Eegang huffed and traded Karren to Din for his daughter. Samo happily climbed onto his shoulders and held onto his chin. Karren grinned mischievously up at her, winked, and then thumbed back to the goat loft.

“Not the welcome you deserved, but the one you got. I’m afraid nothing has changed here,” Eegang told Din compassionately, wrapping his fingers around Samo’s ankles. “I see you brought friends.”

“And foe,” Din said, gesturing at Bojzka who beamed.

Eegang’s visor contained a grimace that would otherwise have wracked his whole body.

“You got in,” he deadpanned.

“Sure did,” Bojzka said. “Lovely place you have here.”

And honestly? Yeah. It sort of was. Maybe a little ramshackle, what with all the scaffolding and haphazard support beams thrown into the walls to keep the wet earth above ground from crushing everyone below it, but for all the unsteadiness, it was oozing with comradery. Family.

Behind each of those doors was a little unit like Eegang and Sotra’s or perhaps a tired body, barely extracted from its boots, taking comfort in this honeycomb of tunnels and rooms.

Boba couldn’t help but wonder how he and Dad would have done in a place like this.

“We try,” Eegang said flatly. “I’ll let the Armorer deal with you herself—if she’s awake, I mean. Otherwise, you’re condemned to Shimmol. I’m going back to sleep. Vok is waiting for you, keep going straight through the kitchens, Din.”

“Thank you,” Din said. “Sleep well, Vod.”

“Yeah, yeah. Come on, Monster. No goats for now.”

Samo waved at Boba and Fennec with a smile as bright as the sun. She ducked expertly as Eegang passed through the doorway to their quarters. He closed the door behind them.

 ------

“You don’t see families like that much anymore,” Bojzka hummed as Din led their troop down the hallways, through a series of ladders into a kitchen and then from there into a surprisingly neat, up-to-date hangar with concrete floorings. Six crafts were parked inside, tucked into the tight space like fish in a barrel.

“We have a few,” Din said. “I don’t know how many people are living here now, though.”

Given the size of the place? Maybe fifty or so, if Boba had to take a guess. There had been several sets of boots lining the wall outside the barrack doors.

Din picked his way through the crafts to two tarps covered in piles of spare, rusting, and grease-covered parts. At the end of the aisle between the tarps was a rectangle bordered by wooden benches and to the left of that was a little box that a mechanic presumably operated from. The box, however, had no windows. Its door was slightly ajar.

Din knocked and a snort and a slurp answered him.

“Jus’ a mo,” a thick voice said inside.

Fennec looked at Boba with intrigue.

“Tool gnome,” she said.

No, friend. Just a grease-monkey.

“Tool gnome,” Fennec insisted.

The door opened and a man at least six feet, two inches peered out of it.

“Tool giant,” Fennec amended in a whisper.

“Is that you, Din?” the mechanic asked. His helmet was rusty red and gray. Its visor had a yellow tint to it.

“It is,” Din said. “It’s been a while, Vok. These are my—”

“Forget them. Goran told me what you did to Razor.”

Din cringed.

“I—”

“AH. No. I don’t wanna hear it,” Vok said. “I just—I’m glad you’re safe, but you ain’t touching any more of my children, you hear me, boy?”

Din sunk into his shoulders in shame.

“I hear you,” he said.

“You’re damn right you do,” Vok said. “Man, I had a whole speech written out and shit, and here you are, early as the fuckin’ dawn. Did you miss Paz?”

“We did not,” Din said.

“I tried to have him do an inventory, I did,” Vok said sympathetically. “But he wasn’t havin’ it. Took an IOU and everything.”

Din sighed.

“Thanks for trying,” he said. “Is the forge...?”

“That way,” Vok said, gesturing to the far end of the hangar, where a series of scaffolding led up to a dark hole in the wall. “Mind your step. Stairs are next on my list. Who’re your friends?”

Din introduced them. Vok considered Fennec and after a moment of thought, saluted her. She tipped her jaw to the side and gave him a once-over.

“Din’s got my number if you’re not busy,” Vok said.

“I’ll take it under advisement,” Fennec said.

“I hope you do, my darlin’. You? Boj-whatever? I heard about you. You can go fuck yourself.”

“Thanks, Vok, we’re going now,” Din intervened.

 ----------

Fennec said nothing on the way up the scaffolding. She didn’t need to. Boba applauded her.

 ---------

The forge was the least finished part of the covert, and Boba could respect the Armorer’s dedication to looking after the flock before her own needs. Not that the forge wasn’t a comfortable place. Upon entry, Bojzka whistled at all the equipment inside. There were steel beams crossing in hatches along the ceiling. It appeared as though someone was working on a ventilation mechanism up there. Ropes and pipes hung down from the beams as though a pulley system had been recently removed.

The forge itself was a huge circular structure with a high wall around its exterior. It was built of a slick-looking black material. There were three water troughs set up in a line behind it and two rudimentary wood blocks with anvils set on them. Benches littered with iron tools sat next to the anvils.

Din appeared very at home in this place, despite not having even been in it. He wove around the accoutrements of the room towards a wooden door that had been placed on hinges on the far side like an afterthought.

He knocked.

“We don’ want any,” a sleepy woman’s voice drawled.

Boba jumped as a something brushed his elbow and discovered that Karren had followed them all the way down to the forge. His soft boots had hidden his footsteps, but, like Din, he was now in a place that he knew like the back of his hand. Din grabbed the scruff of his neck as he went for the door with both hands.

“You’re supposed to be in the nursery,” Din told him. “Shoo.”

“Shimmol, Din’s home,” Karren said through the door. “Goran, Din’s home.”

Very cute. Karren wanted to be the one to shared the news. Din pulled him back as shuffling started up on the other side of the wooden door.

It opened to reveal a fluorescent pink helmet with floral patterns painted down the edges in white.

“Din?” the young woman, who could only be Shimmol, asked.

Din’s brain stuttered.

“Uh?” he said.

Shimmol’s flightsuit was once white, but it was burned and smudged to gray all over. Her heavy gloves were half-burnt on both hands, too. She surged forward into Din’s chestplate. Din hugged her back awkwardly.

“Hello, sister,” he said. “This is, uh.”

“Do you like it?” Shimmol asked, pulling away from him to touch the edges of her helmet. “I thought it was cute. Wait til you see the pauldrons. They match.”

“They’re hideous,” Karren said.

“Did anyone ask you?” Shimmol flung at him. “No, I didn’t think so. Get gone, womp-rat.”

Wow. No wonder Karren was desperate for Din’s attention.

“I’m not a womp-rat,” Karren said. “I’m a Tooka. Goran said so.”

“You know, what you actually are is a ‘nuisance,’ so it doesn’t matter what—”

“Children.”

And lo and behold. The lady herself. Gold helmet and everything.

“Din,” the Armorer said, placing a hand on Shimmol’s side to move her. “Welcome home.”

Din accepted the helmet touch with grace.

“Bojzka,” the Armorer said next. “I didn’t expect to see you in my home so soon, or at all.”

Bojzka beamed.

“You’ve grown a beard,” the Armorer noted. “It does not become you.”

Boba coughed into his elbow to hide the bark of laughter screaming to escape his throat. Fennec thumped at his back.

“Let’s move somewhere with more light,” the Armorer said. “Karren, Shimmol. You’re dismissed for the next hour. Go eat breakfast.”

“But—” Shimmol started.

“Up, up, up,” Karren chanted, getting behind her and shoving hands into the small of her back. “It’s people-time.”

“Leave it. I hate people-time,” Shimmol said. “I thrive on darkness. It sustains me better than food.”

Din looked desperately into the Armorer’s helmet. The Armorer ignored him and told Shimmol that she knew this to false and to stop whining. Upstairs, now.  

The kids relented and left the forge. Din pointed after them.

“I know,” the Armorer said. “Let her work through it.”

Din pointed even more insistently.

“No, no. It’s true,” Bojzka said. “Mine went through the same thing.”

 --------

The Armorer sat them all down at a ‘u’ shape of benches on the far side of the forge. She turned on some overhead lights. They lit up the forge and threw its equipment’s shadows harshly against the floor.

“Thank you for coming,” she said lightly. “It takes a long time to get to Zeffo, even in the Outer Rim.”

“It suits you,” Bojzka flirted.

“It does not,” the Armorer countered unrepentantly. “And your flattery remains aggravating.”

Bojzka didn’t seem to process the meaning behind those words, too busy he was with basking in the Armorer’s presence. She ignored him to turn to Din.

“Eegang tells me that you have been aggressive towards Bojzka, ad’ika, is this true?”

Din hunkered down into his shoulders. He didn’t want to answer. The Armorer didn’t make him.

“This is unnecessary,” she said. “Bojzka does not bother me.”

Bojzka rounded a gloating grin at Din.

“He is delusional, but I’m afraid that head trauma does this over time,” the Armorer said lightly. “There is no need to defend my honor—I’ve already had this conversation with Eegang, so know that it is not only you who I’ve spoken to about this. And Bojzka.”

“Yes, dear?” Bojzka hummed.

“I would appreciate it if you ceased in antagonizing my foundling and second.”

“I’m not trying to, Nomri.”

“I know,” the Armorer said. “And that is where I believe this tension arises from. Din, you and your advisor may leave. I’ll handle this. In future, know that it is not your place to speak on these matters in my stead, yes?”

“Yes, Goran,” Din mumbled.

The Armorer waited.

“Buir,” Din corrected.

“Thank you. The last thing I need is the Mand’alor becoming invested in old-standing relationships. You may go.”

Din stood and Boba and Fennec stood with him.

“He is not Naseem,” Din said right at the doorway.

The Armorer’s helmet turned slowly his way.

“No one will ever be Naseem,” she said. “It’s okay. Go.”

 -----------

Boba need the full story on this Naseem guy approximately yesterday, but all he had at his disposal in the kitchens where he, Din, and Fennec had been banished was a collection of foundlings all staring up at their party looking guilty as hell.

In the midst of their group was a ten-year-old holding a glass jug absolutely brimming with frogs.

Boba had never seen this many foundlings together at once before, and he had to say: these traditionalists knew exactly what they were doing. There was nothing quite like a whole mass of youths to shift the mood.

The kids made a break for it.

  Fennec was the fastest of all of them, but even she was not as fast as the bodies that popped their heads out of the rattling back room and launched themselves without warning over the few rows of tables set out in the main space.

Din’s covert collectively looked after the little ones, he explained when one of these bodies returned with the wrist of a shrieking Twi’lek child in their grip. The shrieking cut off when the nurse dropped down into a crouch and flattened both of the child’s hands against their helmet so that they left splotchy prints behind.

Two of the folks who filed back into the room covered in mud did not wear helmets. Din didn’t recognize them until they spoke and said their names. They’d removed their helmets back on Nevarro, apparently, and they had not to put them back on. Now, they wore veils and headscarves—neither of them comfortable with their whole heads and faces on display.

One of these was a woman named Madda. She saw Din’s helmet and froze by one of the long tables.

“Din, I’m so glad you returned,” she said with hitching breath. And then she took her newly-acquired jug of frogs and went tearing back down the hallway towards the covert’s main entrance. Din watched after her, confused.

“Is the transition difficult?” he asked one of the other Mandalorians next to him.

Their helmet showed zero emotion, and yet Boba gleaned from it everything he needed to know. He put a palm on his forehead.

“Djarin, come here,” he said.

 -------------

Din chased after Madda to apologize for fucking up what was probably a years-long infatuation at this point. Fennec watched after him with a sly grin. But the Mandalorian with the flat helmet turned to Boba with far more open shoulders.

“You got through to him like that,” she said, snapping her fingers.

“It’s his secret talent,” Fennec told her.

“What was your name?” the Mandalorian asked.

“Boba Fett,” Boba said. “And yours?”

“Jhuvac.”

“Nice to meet you,” Boba said politely.

“Aren’t you the clone-guy?”

Welp.

“I prefer ‘Fett,’” Boba said.

“Nah, I feel that,” Jhuvac said, tossing her scarf over her shoulder. “Paz calls you the ‘clone-guy’ is all. That shit’s wild, by the way. But you can’t help your dad’s decision now can you?”

What was this? Understanding? From a traditionalist? Kryze would lose her shit.

“I can’t, although everything after that was totally me,” Boba said.

Jhuvac glanced back at him.

“Including the Solo stuff?” she asked.

Boba lifted a brow.

“Is there something you would like to know?” he asked.

“No,” Jhuvac said. “I know everything I need to. But you know what’ll make Vok’s life miserable?”

 ---------

The mechanic was a huge fan of Han Solo, and he had a list of reasons why Boba should cease hunting  the man about as long as one of his lanky arms. He listed them out one by one in his hangar full of metal scrap. Jhuvac was very correct when she said that the mere mention of Solo meeting his maker would cause Vok immense misery. Boba could see how it could be entertaining.

Fennec made it even more entertaining by poking holes in each of Vok’s carefully laid out arguments.

He kept asking her why she was hurting him like this. Was this a domination kink?

Fennec asked him if he wanted it to be.

Vok walked it all back and told her to do her worst.

Jhuvac decided that she suddenly had other things to do and invited Boba to accompany her on these things. Boba assented and left Fennec to her business.

 ----------

In the end, Boba found himself outside in a group huddle with a handful of covert people, two with no helmets, watching the feud between the foundlings and the local wildlife. The covert, he learned, broadly did not like Zeffo. They hated how wet it was. They hated how cold it was. 90% of them had grown up in desert climates, the remaining 10% in ice climates.

Zeffo, as far as they were concerned, was a backwater hellhole that they’d had little choice in selecting.

“It was this or breaking up and forming two coverts,” Sotra explained, removing Mesa’s captured snail from his face area for the third time. She gave the snail to the guy next to her who got up and took it down to the edge of the nearby river. He stooped to set it in the grass, then froze in shock when a fish’s wide mouth erupted from the water and encapsulated his whole glove.

It left the glove wet and empty.

“But you didn’t want to do that?” Boba asked.

“No, if we separated, it would be Eegang at the head of the new covert,” Sotra said. “And that’s just not in the cards for us right now.”

Gotcha.

“The children didn’t want to be separated either,” one of the Mandalorians with no helmet said. “Goran gave them the option, but things were frantic, you know. They cling to each other when they’re young like this.”

More than understandably, in Boba’s humble and correct opinion.

“What do you all think of Bojzka?” Boba asked them.

“Who?”

“The bull with no helmet? Beard?” someone said.

“The one trying to court the Armorer?” Sotra asked.

Everyone clambered back onto the same page in the face of this descriptor.

“He’s supposed to be some kind of hero,” Jhuvac said. “But I dunno, man. He seems a little, uh.”

“Goran’s too good for him,” Sotra interjected simply. “Imagine stooping so low after a life of respect and service.”

“He’s not ugly,” the Mandalorian who’d lost the snail pointed out. “I’d bang him.”

“You’re not a good bar, Ban.”

“I could be.”

“You’re the lowest bar, Ban.”

“Can’t be disappointed if your expectations on the floor.”

“Go bang him for Goran then,” Jhuvac said. “I can’t tell if she thinks he’s kinda cute or if she wants to stab him in the heart.”

“For the good of the covert, I will endure this hardship,” Ban said.

He was unceremoniously yanked back down when he started to stand.

“Din mentioned some guy named ‘Naseem?’” Boba asked.

The name alone sent the group into titters.

“Naseem was so nice.”

“Naseem was great, you have no idea. So respectful.”

“He wanted to take Din on so bad, it was almost heartbreaking. He and Goran were perfect for each other. He was so happy around her; I don’t think he ever talked in front of anyone else.”

“God, when he died, I cried so hard. I cried for days.”

“Same.”

“Same.”

“Same.”

“Kind of a tough reputation to beat, then?” Boba asked.

“Oh definitely,” Jhuvac said. “I mean, there was Hajka after him, but she was just so explosive. Like, she made Goran laugh a lot, I remember that, but she was kinda awkward, too. There was a battle on her home planet and she left everyone here to defend what was left of her people.”

“Goran collects the awkward ones, they’re her favorite,” Sotra said.

“You can’t judge her, you collect Eegangs,” Ban pointed out.

“There is only one Eegang.”

“Girl, we know.”

There was a pause while Sotra handed off her child so that she could beat the shit out of Ban on the lumpy grass. Jhuvac handed Mesa over Boba’s lap to the quiet person at his right. They took the baby without question and laid him on their chest.

“Where did you grow up, Boba?” Jhuvac asked. “Sorry, Fett. Do you like Fett?”

Boba was taken aback. It had been ages since someone had called him by his first name—and a Mandalorian no less.

“Boba is fine. I grew up on Kamino,” he said.

“With a covert?”

No, no covert. No anyone, really. Boba was what people in white coats tended to call ‘under-socialized.’

“That’s sad,” Jhuvac said. “It must have been lonely.”

It was, actually. Especially after Dad had died.

“That’s so sad, I’m gonna cry,” Ban said. “Join our covert.”

All helmets and eyes rounded on Boba and he felt like his collar was suddenly digging into his neck. He shook his head.

“I’m not really a Mandalorian,” he said. “It’s not right—”

“Bullshit.”

“Fuckin’ hell, Jhuvac, let ‘im talk.”

“No, that’s bullshit. Listen, Din has ‘don’t trust people’ syndrome. If he trusts you enough to bring you with him here, then you’re Mandalorian enough for us,” Jhuvac said. “And anyways, being a Mandalorian is about what you do, not who you are. It doesn’t matter if you’re clone-guy so long as you follow the Creed in a more or less northernly direction.”

Boba stared at her and realized that everyone was staring at him again. He cleared his throat but found that he didn’t have any words trapped back there like he’d thought.

“Or easternly,” Ban offered to break the awkwardness.

There were still no words on Boba’s tongue. He struggled to say at least something.

“I—th—that’s kind of you,” he eventually managed. “I don’t think I could cut it here, but that’s really kind of you.”

The Mandalorians exchanged looks and shrugs.

“Know that the offer stands if you feel any pull towards it later,” Sotra said. “We have a number of reformed who converted and who move in and out of our covert. Not recently, but when we were children, there were more. Goran, too, was once a reformed Mandalorian.”

“My buir, too,” Jhuvac added.

“My ba-buir was reformed,” Ban said. “But she might have caused a public riot. Or two. Or three.”

“Speaking of which,” Sotra said. “Elder Fayrz has emerged from his cave.”

“I’ll get him,” Jhuvac sighed.

Boba frowned and looked from them out to the hill the foundlings had selected to gossip on. A Mandalorian in black and white with a green cape was, indeed, now kneeling among them. Every face was turned towards him in wonder.

“I’ve heard of this guy. He looks fun,” he noted.

At least one hand from every body came up to clutch at their face.

“That’s exactly the problem,” Ban said.

 ------

Din rejoined Boba in the midst of Elder Fayrz’s attempt to recruit him into the covert. He somehow knew Dad. That in itself was a little disarming. At first, Boba hadn’t believe that the elder was speaking the truth, but then he started up with alarmingly specific training corp numbers and mentioned off-handedly that he used to work in the corps, training kids from six to fourteen.

It made sense now why, in old age, he was considered the most dangerous person in the covert to have around the foundlings.

Grandpa was a serial spoil-er and mischief-instigator. The children saw in him everything they wanted out of life and were loathe to be separated from their most favorite old man.

Din got between him and Boba and informed the Elder that he’d just gotten married.

The Elder’s attentions went rocketing in the opposite direction. He wanted pictures, he wanted to know all about the reception, he wanted to know why Din hadn’t brought his partner home with him, what color their armor was, where they were presently based—the whole barrel of spotchka.

Boba appreciated the save.

He also appreciated the moment when the Elder fully realized that Din had, in fact, married a real jedi.

“YOU STUPID BOY.”

There it was.

The children bustled and whispered.

“This is what happens when we do not teach them to read—where is your buir? I told her, I told her that you needed more lessons. Always with the dogs, I knew it would have some effect—”

Din couldn’t even argue. He and Kryze had been over the very same deficit about sixty times. If they were lucky, Bo-Katan gave him a day or two off in between scoldings.

While the old man was outraged, Din signaled to Boba that they would be leaving soon.

 --------

Bojzka joined Boba, Din, and Fennec at the ramp of their ship about ten minutes late. The Armorer personally showed him out of the covert and told him to return only if the galaxy began to collapse in on itself. She was at least cordial about it, which, in hindsight, was probably why Bojzka was having a hard time reading the glaring ‘please desist’ sign flickering over her head.

“Be safe,” she told Din while Karren made sad sounds behind her.

“Will do,” Din said. “Next time, I’ll see if Luke will come.”

“We would like to have him,” the Armorer said.

She dipped her helmet to Boba and Fennec and they returned the gesture.

“I hope you were well-received by the others,” she said. “Bojzka, good bye.”

“Talk to you later,” Bojzka hummed.

“We shall not,” the Armorer said.

 ---------

Back in the Dune Sea, Kryze was waiting in one of the conference rooms. Din avoided her and all her probing questions. Boba did not. He was in a sharing sort of mood and Fennec had a ‘thanks for the lay’ message to compose to Mr. Vok.

Kryze crossed her legs and gestured for him to join her at the table.

He did and crossed his legs right back.

“So?” she asked.

“Shocking peaceful,” Boba said. “Violent mostly towards their own members. Tried to recruit me at least three times.”

Kryze’s eyebrows did a little dance.

“Surprising,” she said.

“Not very,” Boba corrected. “Din is one of the more reserved members. He resembles his buir more than I expected.”

“And Bojzka?” Kryze asked.

“Soundly rejected, but somehow optimistic about it,” Boba said. “The good news is that Din’s been forbidden from trying to kill him.”

“That is good news,” Kryze agreed.

There was a long pause.

“Are you thinking about it? Joining, I mean?” Kryze asked.

“No,” Boba said, “But it is nice to occasionally be around Mandalorians who don’t have sticks up their asses.”

“Unicorns,” Kryze said.

“A whole covert of them,” Boba told her with a smirk. “Maybe it’s not them. Maybe it’s you all.”

“I beg to differ,” Kryze said. “If the issue is resolved, then I suppose we’ll have to move back on to official business.”

That was no fun.

“Why is Fennec so smug?”

Oh, that was more fun. Sit back down, Lady. This is going to be a bawdy one.

[kikis-writing-world]

The Reason

The Reason

Summary: You can’t sleep as you near Moff Gideon’s ship, but neither can Din. He wants to tell you about what happened on Morak.

Pairing: Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Rating/Warnings: SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 15!!!! Other than the spoilers, it’s all fluff and no editing lol. But seriously, if you’re avoiding finding out what happens in Season 2, Episode 7 / Chapter 15 of The Mandalorian, don’t read this yet. It takes place after, and there’s talk of what happened during the episode.

A/N: It seems like every freaking week I watch the episode and tell myself “don’t write something. Everyone will be writing something, you don’t need to add in your silly fic too.” (Not to say I don’t enjoy reading them, but I just always feel like I won’t be adding anything new.) Well, this week I said fuck it and cranked this little ditty out this morning after the new episode. I hope y’all like it.

Edit: Follow-up drabble here

You sat silently beside Din as the ship - not the Razor Crest that had become your home over the past months, but Boba Fett’s ship Slave I - travelled through space. If the coordinates were right, you were heading into what was sure to be a hard-fought battle but it would be worth it. It was all to get Grogu back.

You willed yourself not to cry as you thought of the little green child you’d come to think of as your own. What he must be feeling right now. Alone and scared while they did unthinkable experiments to him. You’d cried several times since he’d been taken from your care, sick with worry over him. You were sick of crying. Soon would be the time for action, for getting him back.

Fennec and Dune were both sleeping on the opposite side of the bay. You tried to sleep, knowing you’d need your wits about you when you reached Moff Gideon’s ship, but sleep wouldn’t come. Sleep was hard to come by lately.

A whisper to your left surprised you. The low, modulated voice speaking your name. You had thought he was also asleep, reserving his strength for the battle to come. You should have known he’d be struggling to sleep too.

He nodded his head to the side as he unbuckled the harness keeping him secure in the seat. You nodded as you unbuckled your own and followed him to the darkened corner of the hold. You waited for him to sit in the corner, knowing he liked to have his back secured and a view of the room. Instead, he gently led you into the corner and sat with his back to the others. You were too surprised to ask, you followed his lead and slid down the wall to sit on the floor.

He hadn’t said much of what happened on Morak, but you hadn’t been expecting him to. You’d learned long ago he wasn’t one for unnecessary chatter. There were times he tried, for you and the kid, helping to fill the silences as time passed on the ship. Hearing him strain, pushing the boundaries of his usual comforts to ease the minds of you and his foundling, was one of the ways he snuck into your heart.

It wasn’t easy loving The Mandalorian. He was so used to being alone, both physically alone and having few people to trust. It took a while, but you earned that trust. You knew you had. You also knew he cared about you in his own special way. He would take your hand in his larger gloved hand to avoid losing you in a crowd. His hand would squeeze yours when you were visibly anxious. A hand on your shoulder, your back, or your hip as he passed you in tight quarters. Leaning his forehead against yours anytime the two of you parted.

To most these fleeting moments wouldn’t look like much, but you knew the stoic Mandalorian didn’t give these touches lightly. That his keldabe kiss was just as precious as any lip-to-lip contact.

You didn’t fully understand his creed. He answered questions when you asked, but a lot of it didn’t make sense to you, an outsider. Even so, you never pushed him to break it or put him in a position that made him feel like the creed was in danger.

“I know you’re worried,” his voice was quiet. The crackling of the modulator even more prominent as it tried to broadcast his hushed tone. “We’ll get him back.”

“I know.” You nodded, looking down at your crossed legs. If anyone could rescue Grogu, it was the man sitting across from you.

That large gloved hand entered your vision, resting lightly on your knee. A small smile broke through your worry at the man’s attempt at comfort. You placed your hand over his, feeling the warmth of him through the smooth leather.

“I-” He started to speak before stopping himself. While it wasn’t unusual for him to search for his words, he usually did so before starting to speak. By the time he spoke, he was confident and sure in what he had to say. That short, clipped syllable caught your attention in how different it was. He was trying to tell you something, but still wasn’t sure how.

“What is it?” You gently prompted, squeezing his hand with your own.

“On Morak…” He sighed.

“What happened on Morak?” You asked after a beat.

“I did what had to be done.”

His answer confused you. You knew that already of course, but it also sounded like he was trying to convince himself as well as you.

“I know that. You got the coordinates. We’re going to find the kid because of you and Mayfield.” You smiled at him, praising him for the success. It was easy to overlook the triumph when it was just a stepping stone to a much larger problem.

“I had to…” He looked away from you as he once again searched for the words. Your smile dropped a fraction with his unease. “I had to take off the helmet.”

You didn’t know what you were expecting him to reveal, but it hadn’t been that. You knew that he had taken the helmet off months ago, but that had been a life or death situation. No one had been around, just the IG droid who had treated his wounds and saved him. This was a mining refinery full of people. Full of imps.

“Are you okay?” You asked, moving your hand from where it was resting on top of his so you could grip his hand fully. “What happened?”

“I-I had to.” He stuttered. “The terminal had to scan my face to get the coordinates.”

“Mando,” you didn’t dare speak his name - something he had shared with you in confidence - with others around. “Are you okay?”

He nodded once. Relief filled your body. You foremost worry had been for him, and how he would have felt to have broken his life-long creed. You supposed with the explosions, anyone who would have seen his face was likely dead. Unless Mayfield had seen him.

His hand slipped from yours as he brought both of his hands up to the sides of his helmet. He started pushing it up and your eyes widened as a sliver of skin was revealed. You surged forward, covering his hands in your own to stop him.

“What are you doing?”

“I want to. To show you.” He explained. His voice came in this awkward mix of his natural timber through the bottom of his helmet and the modulator still trying to pick up his voice. You could see his chin move as he spoke. Your heart was racing. It was the most you’d ever seen of his face.

“You don’t have to.” You told him firmly.

“I think… I think there are reasons to keep it on, and reasons to take it off.” He spoke slowly, like it was something he had been thinking about. You thought of the Mandalorians on Trask who claimed the creed was outdated. You thought of Boba Fett in the cockpit, who wore his newly-polished armor with the pride of a mandalorian despite being without it for years. Thought about him revealing his face for the information needed to save his foundling.

“I want to show you my face.” He told you, his voice unwavering. It was the surety, the confidence you had grown used to from him. “I want to show who I am to the one I love.”

Your breath caught in your throat at his admission. You knew it in your heart, but he’d never said the words aloud to you before. You bit your lip as you felt the tears welling in your eyes again, this time from happiness instead of grief and worry.

“Okay.” You breathed, barely able to find your voice.

With your hands still on his, he lifted the helmet, revealing his face inch by inch. You held your breath as he was slowly revealed to you.

The scruff covering his jaw. His plush lips. The mustache over his mouth. His aquiline nose. His deep brown eyes. His shaggy dark brown hair. He set his helmet in his lap as your eyes scanned his face.

Wow.

You hadn’t realized you had said that out loud until his eyebrows furrowed. That was new. You were used to guessing his emotions through his body language, his tone of voice. Now you had facial expressions to read. He was waiting for your reaction and you hadn’t given him much to go by.

“You’re gorgeous.” You told him. It was the only way you could think to describe the ridiculously handsome man sitting in front of you. You were almost mad at him for hiding his face away for this long.

His lips quirked up in a lopsided grin, a single dimple appearing in his cheek. Maker, you thought he’d already taken your breath away and then this-

“Come here.” He ordered. His natural voice was deep. Rich. It sent a shiver down your spine.

“Huh?” Your brain wasn’t processing. It was in some kind of overloaded state. Din’s face. Din’s voice. Din’s beautiful brown eyes that you could simply drown in.

His hand was on your cheek, pulling you into him. You gasped, holding your breath as his lips brushed against yours. You had dreamed of this, but not a single one of those dreams lived up to the real thing.

He was hesitant, clumsy even as he kissed you. His lips were chapped against your own, the stubble on his cheeks tickling your skin. He smelt of sweat and blaster fire, of fresh air and leather. Maker, you could melt into the floor of the ship never to be seen again and you would have been happy with the life you had lived.

“I love you.” You whispered against his lips. You felt him smile in response.

You brought your hand up to his cheek. Feeling the lines of his face with your hand, you trailed your hand to his hair. It was damp with sweat but so soft. It felt amazing between your fingers.

“Where’s Mando?” A voice across the bay shocked both of you, the two of you shooting away from each other as if you’d been burned. You felt like a teenager who had been caught making out by your parents. You looked over Din’s shoulder as he pulled the helmet back into place - his strategic placement of the two of you making sense now. Not only did he not want them to see his face, but he trusted you to have his back. That thought made your heart speed up even more than it already was.

You saw Fennec shaking Cara awake. Luckily she hadn’t looked in this direction yet. Had Cara woken first, she likely would have seen the two of you.

“Sorry, we’re over here.” You admitted, trying to calm the heat in your face. It was dim in the hold, hopefully they couldn’t tell. “We were talking, didn’t want to wake you.”

“You should be sleeping.” Fennec told you,  leveling you with a gaze that truly did make you feel like you’d been caught doing something wrong by a parent.

“I should be sleeping.” Cara grumbled, cranky for having been woken up for no reason.

“Come on. We’re all gonna need to be at our best.” Fennec said, ignoring Cara.

“She’s right.” Din admitted, standing up and offering you his hand. You took it, letting him help you to stand. “Let’s try to get some sleep, cyar'ika.”

Tagging: @wickedfrsgrl​ @din-damn-djarin​ @thisisthe-wayson​ @insideafictionaluniverse​

[ct7567329]

Pass: Rex x Reader

A loud sigh escaped your lips as a holopad was slapped down next to you.

"Here are the list of all the troopers that need their annual evaluation. Make sure you can get them all done within the next thirty rotations," General Shaak Ti informed you, urgency in her voice.

You hummed in response and picked up the holopad, browsing through the list. All ARC Troopers were reevaluated annually to ensure they were still the best fit for the position. The list could easily be knocked in half if the 501st managed to make their way to Kamino anytime soon. The mid-rim sieges would make it difficult but you had to get it done.

Begging Anakin to let the 501st have a few days off on Kamino wasn't too hard to accomplish. He complied to it faster than you expected but you weren't going to complain. There was plenty to do before the reevaluations. Testing new weapons, giving new battle combinations and evaluation their ability to adapt were just a few things that needed to be done. And you had to figure out how to do it.

The only thing you enjoyed about the task was catching up with the troopers. Throughout your time as a special ranks trainer at Kamino,  you've developed many friendships with the soldiers, and unfortunately, you never really got to see them again once they were shipped off.

Your heart jumped a little when you saw the number 7567 on the list. You recognized the number as a Captain named Rex. He was one of the hardest working soldiers you've worked with. Right before he shipped out, he buzz cut his hair and dyed it blonde, making him the only soldier in that captain training program to not have the standard hair cut with brown hair. You admired his willingness to be unique.

Roughly six rotations later, the 501st finally arrived on Kamino, giving the majority of the men a much needed break. You figured Anakin would be in the mess hall so you made your way there to meet up with your long time-no see friend.

It was never difficult to find him. Anakin was always the center of attention. According to his Padawan, he enjoyed telling elaborated stories about before the war to the clones. You approached him from behind as he rambled on about his encounter with a bounty hunter when he was only fourteen.

"Wow, let me guess, you used your lightsaber without holding it. You used the force to levitate it?" you butted it, chuckling slightly.

Anakin turned around and threw his hand up, "(Y/N)! Always a pleasure to see you. Let me introduce you to my new men!"

You smirked and shook your head as Anakin began introducing them. It appeared as if Rex wasn't present.

"And this here is Hard-"

"Case," you laughed, "You forget. I've worked with every solider that steps foot off this planet."

"Great to see you again, General!" Hardcase salutes, "And may I add, your beauty has multiplied since."

You rolled your eyes, "Not even the brutality of the war can take away his charm. But, he takes after his general I suppose."

The men snickered as Anakin gave you a glare.

"Anyway, I sent you a list of men that need their evaluation. I know you're here for a while but of you can let them know to get it done as soon as possible, that would be great. I have thousands of troopers to test."

"You wish is my command," Anakin playfully bowed.

You exhaled and began to exit, "I'll catch up with you all soon!" you called out.

As you exited the mess hall, you began to reminisce on the old days of being a Padawan and filling around with Anakin. The two of you always managed to pull off shenanigans that usually resulted in a conference by the council, but you wouldn't change a thing. You turned the corner to head to your quarters when you knocked into a solider, causing him to drop his helmet.

"Oh my gosh I am so sorry...Rex?" you gasped, once you realized who it was.

Rex's jaw dropped, "General. You remember my name?"

"I remember every soldier's name," you grinned, using the force to pick up his helmet, "especially the special ones." You handed him his helmet.

"Is that a compliment, sir?" he asked, slowly taking his helmet from you.

You bit your lower lip, "Perhaps. How has the war been for the 501st?"

He let out a heavy sigh, "There's always some uphill battles, but I think we are all just glad to be back on Kamino. Even if it's just for seven rotations."

"Me too!" you nodded. Trying to hide your reddening cheeks in his presence was nearly impossible. They say war drains you, but Rex was even more handsome than you remembered.

"Sir? Aren't you always on Kamino though?" he asked, making a confused face.

"Oh no. I mean I'm glad that the 501st is back. You guys are the finest soldiers to come out of my training. My favorite to be around, if I may add."

Rex's entire demeanor when from solider talking to general to a look of more compassion, "You mean that?"

"Lying isn't the Jedi way. And even if I wasn't a Jedi, who would lie to someone like you? Don't sell yourself short, Rex. Don't think just because you're 'just a clone' you're any less than anyone else. And-"

You stopped for a moment, realizing what words. were actually coming out of your mouth.

"And.." you drew out the n sound, "Don't forget to pick a time slot for your evaluation! Can't wait to see how much you've grown on the battlefield!" you rushed to say, before taking off to your quarters at a quick pace.

As you hastily walked away, Rex turned to look at you. He wasn't quite sure what to make of what you said. As far as he could remember, you were always kind to him, compassionate with your words, but never that caliber. Though he would have loved to think of it as a flirtatious encounter, he knew that would be something he could only dream of and continued to make his way to the mess.

"Are you knifing stupid!?" you yelled to yourself as you entered your quarters. In that moment you knew you messed up. If there was anything you were taught as a youngling, is was that admitting your attachments is a tell tale sign you are completely attached. You sighed and flung your body onto your bed, hoping a nap would clear your mind.

Meanwhile, Rex ate his grub hastily. This wasn't common for him at all. Especially since the men of the 501st were used to actually conversing with Rex during meals.

"What's got you eating like a bat out of hell?" Fives asked, turning his head to face his vod.

"Just a little busy," Rex mumbled, stuffing the remaining food in his mouth.

Fives raised an eyebrow, "With what? We have six whole rotations for evaluations, and our evaluator is General (Y/LN). You've said before you two were friendly during your training. I'm sure she'll go easy on you!"

Rex didn't respond.

"And last we heard, you have no interning on becoming Commander Rex," Jesse butted in, "That takes less work off your shoulders. Some of us are looking for promotions."

"You really think you're getting promoted to arc trooper," Hardcase laughed, getting an eye roll in response.

Rex finally got up, "I saw General (Y/LN) in the hall and she asked if I wanted to assist with ARC promotions," he lied, "Just thinking about whether or not I'm fit for that responsibility."

He walked away, wanting nothing more than to find Anakin's droid, R2.

"Told you you should have been kissing Rex's shebs!" Hardcase hummed at Jesse as Rex exited the mess hall.

At last he was alone with his thoughts. He couldn't stop thinking about your conversation with him. As much as his heart told him it was flirtatious, his mind told him other wise. It didn't take Rex long to find R2.

"Hey R2!" he called, the droid rolling towards him and greeting him with a series of beeps.

"I need to know if I have access to know where General (Y/LN)'s quarters are located."

R2 buzzed, telling Rex the location.

"She gave me access?" he replied softly, "strange. Thank you."

Rex made his way through the seemingly never ending halls. He figured the Jedi quarters had to be hidden deep in the halls of Kamino. After what felt like forever he reached the door to your quarters and knocked.

A knock startled you from your nap. In a hurry, you straightened up your bed and laid out your meditation mat, sitting in a meditative state.

"Enter," you called, your eyes shut. As the person entered the room, your eyes were still shut. By reaching out to the Force, you knew it was Rex.

"Captain, you seem a bit, conflicted," you announced opening your eyes to look at him, "take a seat."

The door shut behind him and he sat down across from you on your meditation mat.

"You do know that Captains are not permitted to supervise ARC selection, correct?" you asked, tilting your head slightly.

His lips parted, "Sir?"

You smirked, "Jedi thing. I know what you told your brothers." You stopped for a moment and saw his face drop, "but I would have done the same."

"Huh?"

"What's bothering you, Rex?"

"Uh, nothing. Just nervous about evaluations."

"You think you can lie to a Jedi," you rolled your eyes, cocking your head at him again.

Rex pressed his lips together and looked down at your meditation mat, "you know why I'm here don't you?"

"Perhaps," you shrugged, inching your body towards his.

He swallowed at your closeness to him and he whispered, "so what was it?"

You gave him a shy smile and leaned into him, pressing a soft kiss against his cheek. For being at war for so long, his skin was surprisingly soft.

"That should answer your question, Rex."

Rex's cheeks were flushed, a tan outline of your lips stained on his cheek.

"I'm sorry, Rex," you sighed, moving back to your spot on the meditation mat.

"For? You easily just made me the luckiest man in the galaxy. I've wanted this moment for a long time.  Figured I would be foolish to actually dream of it." Rex's smile remained on his face, "If I don't do my evaluation, do I just get to stay on Kamino until I take it?"

You chuckled, "I get this is your home, but trust me, you'd rather be out on the battlefield."

"I can't get cheek kisses on the battlefield," he smirked contagiously.

The two of you looked at each other in an awkward silence.

Rex finally broke it, "Don't get my wrong, your training is flawless, but unfortunately I wasn't given  romance lessons, so I'm going to give this my best try," he paused for a moment, "would you be interested in a late night snack together in the mess tonight?"

"As long as you're interested in late night holovids in my quarters afterwards," you blushed back.

Rex confidently beamed, "It's a date." He reached out for your hand and softly kissed the back of it, "Now as much as I would love to stay, I have an evaluation to practice for."

You looked up at him as he left the room, "A little birdie told me you'll pass."

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[the-silentium]

Home Sweet Home

Masterlist - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8

Fors is an Original planet. I do not give permission to people to use it for their own fics, the planet, the animals, the Nightmares, the lore or anything related to Fors. Thank you.

Pairing: Bad Batch x Reader

Words: 7569 words

Warnings: Angst, sexual innuendos.

A/N: Last “soft” chap before the action come back ~  

**Words in bold are words said in French, which means the clones can’t understand it.**

Taglist: @clone-rambles / @mandaloriandin / @apathetic-catastrophie / @jenstar1992-2 / @haloangel391 / @lightning-wolffe / @cherrydemon5​ / @and-claudia​ / @lackofhonor​ / @gaymasonjar​ / @depthsreturn​ / @koskareevesismyqueen​ / @leonidas-banana-phone​             

____________________

Nothing changed. Not the obnoxious people, not the earthy smells, nor the heavy atmosphere. The loud locks of the gates closing behind your group still resonated through your ears, sounding too much like the last nail sealing your coffin shut and not like a protecting device. Was it your instincts telling you that you made the wrong decision? Or was it just the dread of returning somewhere you never wanted to return? Either way, it was clear that you didn't feel any bits of nostalgia at being back between these rocky walls. 

Hells, even the council's room was giving off unpleasant vibes with its tall bookcases carved directly into the walls that protected way too many old books that weren't all redacted in French nor in Basic. A map of the planet hung on the furthest wall of the room, the different villages identified with their respective symbol to help with trades, hunts, fights. Frabas' name crossed out in blood-red ink to remind everyone of the overnight genocide that happened there. 

The lanterns were the only nice things in the room. The soft green and blue crystals contained within the glass enclosure bathed the whole room in their light. Maybe if you focussed on them long enough their glow would soothe your mind. 

"Excuse me? You spit on it?" Tech's sudden high pitch tone was surprising enough to pass through your incessant flow of thoughts 

"Yeah. Right there." He pointed at an intergrown knot close to the far extremity of the table where the heads usually sat. "What? Did you want me to piss on it? That's a bit too animalistic." Kayden added as soon as he noticed Tech's offended expression that quickly morphed into a disgusted one. 

"Honestly, with you people, I wouldn't have been surprised." Crosshair's jeer traveled the room in a second. It took even less to drop Kayden's mood.  

His hand tightened around yours and without losing a single second, you matched his grip to keep him from expressing his frustration through anything physical. Now wasn't the time to start a fight between your own team members when several other players might want to hurt you. 

If tonight's bad luck could turn into good fortune at least once, now would be the time. The 'diplomats' were out of harm's way, Kayden had technically done what he was told and thus was not considered a traitor, leaving you alone on the spot. 

"Look who just found his voice again." He caught your message and used his words instead. "I was sure you'd swallowed your tongue when you ran like a chicken back there."

"And who ran the fastest in the group eh?" The sniper walked to the table. His hands fell flat on the wood to support himself as he leaned forward, daring the brunette at your sides to make a move. 

"The fastest is usually the one to survive." He pointed out as he scratched at his clothed chest with his free hand, his right one still prisoner of your grip. 

"Crosshair." Hunter slightly pulled him backward by the pauldron and away from the incoming confrontation. "Enough." He added with a growl, clearly remembering how this wasn't his brother. Not fully. 

Against all expectation, Crosshair did back off, although he quickly moved his animosity towards the new source of irritation, clear proof that this wasn't the man with whom Hunter had shared so many memories, good or bad. He was a total stranger that didn't respect him at all and lived to push his buttons. Why he stayed with you all was a mystery, although you weren't complaining. Keeping him restrained while in the jungle would have been a true challenge. 

It was like waiting for a storm to explode. The dark grey clouds were there, the strong winds blew away everything in their wake, the thunder resonated in the distance, yet there wasn't any droplet of rain. The men faced each other just like in the cave, mere centimeters separated their chest plates and anytime now, the first blow would mark the start of a colossal downpour. 

It was nerve-wracking. Even Wrecker and Tech were watching, clearly pondering if they should intervene or if by doing so they would aggravate the situation. You started getting up as the door opened and startled you into seating down again. 

Never had you thought that seeing Arlan enter a room would make you feel relieved, yet, this was exactly how you felt at the moment. It seemed like the sudden entrance of an outsider was enough for Crosshair to back off. You subtly crossed your fingers that he wouldn't lash out at the leader even though the scene would very probably make you feel so much better. The consequences of going against Arlan just weren't worth it.  

Before the dark-haired leader could notice it, you separated your hand from Kayden's, both your backs straightened and your unbothered masks came back on. Wearing the well-worn suit of this fake cocky personality was deeply uncomfortable but truly necessary. Over the years it became your best shield and Kayden your best ally. 

"Take a seat." Arlan waved towards the table as he walked deeper into the room, passing Hunter and Crosshair like they weren't even there. It took years to be able to read the black-haired leader, but it definitely came in handy now. 

His calm tone hid a deep irritation that showed through the tightness gripping the muscles around his eyes. He quickly tamed his features as he took place at the end of the table, his elbows immediately meeting the hardwood of the armchairs to allow his fingers to interlace before him. 

Soon the 4 seats opposing you were occupied with rigid troopers. Their helmets still firmly on would have been seen as an enormous lack of respect if only Arlan's attention wasn't already focussed on two nasty boots dripping mud onto the piece of art that was the table.

Arlan only needed one look to communicate thoroughly his thoughts. The hard gaze that could easily be misinterpreted as a constipated one transpired enough threats that Kayden removed his boots without any further delay. The ultimatum was clear and you both knew that there was nothing Arlan despised more than repeating himself. Well, maybe you two were the firsts on his list, but that was especially because you loved to make him repeat himself. 

If only he didn't look like there was an entire fire-ants colony in his pants, Kayden would have kept his feet up for a bit longer just to raise the man's blood pressure a little. You swore he got more grey hair each time he had to talk with the two of you. 

The disapproving sigh accompanying the stormy grey hues boring deeply into yours was a true gift to Kayden whose smirk widened in consequence. 

"Do you know why you're here?" The question resonated within the room with utmost seriousness, a seriousness that you forced yourself to shrug nonchalantly in response. 

"Surely not because you missed me." You placed a smirk on your lips to copy your sidekick and complete the infernal duo act. 

His dark-grey sleeves rode up his arms as he bent forward, his elbows now resting on the table, to get a closer look at you, 3 chairs away. Whilst being very tempting, flinching under his hard stare was out of the question. Four months in a medbay with kind people almost made you forget what the world was really made of; selfish people who always looked out for weaknesses to exploit and were eager to beat others down in hope to raise themselves up. 

"We are here to talk relations between the Republic and your planet." Hunter sharply stated, cutting short the staring contest. "My team was sent in a preliminary manner to inform you of the Republic's intentions seeing as your representatives couldn't be reached through official channels. In the following days, two senators will be coming here with adequate troops to talk in the Senate's name." 

How the room got hotter in a second was a mystery. All you knew was that even though his tone was borderline too crisp to be qualified as diplomatic, Hunter's words were so perfectly chosen that you wondered if he'd done this kind of job before. 

As the silence following Hunter's declaration stretched, Arlan's gaze moved to the hard visor of the commando trooper. The intensity of his stare left you thinking that maybe he was able to see through the shade. Unfazed, Hunter stared right back as you did just moments prior. 

You nearly missed it. If you hadn't been watching Arlan as intently as you were doing, the minuscule flash in his eye would have been overlooked. A muscle jumped in his jaw, filling you with dread. Something was wrong. Somehow he had the upper hand and he was internally relishing his win. 

"A very well executed lie, but I am sorry to announce you that the Republic won't come here, Sergeant. Not after the Jedis signed a treaty to never come on this planet ever again." You were sure he paused just to get a reaction out of the commando. Hunter's helmet hid his expression perfectly. If he'd reacted or not was totally lost on everyone, unfortunately, it wasn't the same for Kayden whose eyes grew as big as saucers. "No Jedi, no clone, no senator, no Separatist, no outsider is welcome here." 

Say what now? Never before had you ever heard of Jedis ever landing a foot on Fors, even less signing a treaty. 

Hunter's helmet slightly dipped in your direction, surely to get some answers through your body language. Surely, he got the message when you gulped, wariness filling your eyes as you continued to stare at the man in his mid-50s. His message had been pretty clear from the very beginning. That he felt the need to add that the clones weren't welcome caused doubts in your village ethics to creep into your mind. 

As far as you knew, no one had ever been executed in cold blood. Sure, you'd heard stories as a child about how people who were a tad bit too disturbing in the community would vanish overnight, obviously thrown out into the jungle to be feasted on by some hungry creature. Without knowing if they were true events or simply a way to make children behave, you took a habit of sticking with Kayden as soon as the firsts Furants that created their nests in the crooks of the walls circling the village entered the gates to hide, signaling that 7 pm had recently passed and the Nightmares would show up in under an hour. After all, there was no better nuisance in Alryan than the two of you. 

Knowing that Arlan's smugness was carefully hidden under layers of practiced indifference, a very tantalizing urge to break your knuckles once again send tingles into your dominant hand. Breaking his nose for a second time would definitely help your mood as well as everyone else's in the room, you were sure of it. 

"The- the Jedis? But they never-" 

"It is not common knowledge." Arlan archly cut Kayden short and rolled his eyes with that very particular expression that made you feel like the stupidest idiot in the galaxy. In response, the tingles in your hand intensified. "This treaty is way older than me after all. We never needed the Republic's help in any way, not then and certainly not now." He at least had the decency to meet his eyes as he talked.

"And what do you think of the Nightmares? Frabas-" You piped up, the image of a traumatized red-head girl shaking in her bloody clothes popped in your mind. "They could've helped with that."

"They are protectors." He closed his eyes in exasperation and pinched his nose like he'd repeated the concept over and over again to a child that never retained anything. 

"They don't protect shit! They kill us!" 

Where had he been his whole life? Every night they came and howled, screeched, hissed, yapped and laughed on the other side of the gates in hope of having some juicy flesh and fresh blood to appease their hunger and thirst. Some even went as far as hitting the gates repeatedly in hope of breaking their way in. 10 hours per night, 368 nights a year, every year.

"They protect the Core that's in you--" He interrupted himself as soon as he noticed the irritation breaching his mask, allowing venom to drip through the closing cracks. His rage fit only lasted a second but it was a second too much. He gave you more than he wanted you to know. 

"What do you mean? In me?" You could feel yourself starting to shake. In apprehension, anger or fear you couldn't tell. There was too much going on at the same time, assaulting your already tired mind. 

"Nothing that you need to know." His tone was definitive, his grey eyes conveying the same message. 

"Bullshit!" You jump to your feet just as he pushed his chair to get up. "If it's in me like you say, I deserve to know!" 

Your yell must have triggered something, because as soon as the words flew from your mouth, Rhian and his troops entered the room, bows fully bent and ready to shoot in your direction. Elijah had his hammer in both hands, fully prepared to use it against a clone- your money went on Wrecker- if needed and Pete was ready to blow a tranquilizer- or it could easily be a fast-acting poison- into someone's neck. 

The answer to the intrusion was immediate. Wrecker's chair went flying behind him at the impact of his legs when he followed his CO's movement. All four troopers stood on their side of the table, imposing and totally ready to enter a fight if need be. You and Kayden though? Totally not ready. You were unarmed and by the time you took hold of Kayden's bow, at least three arrows would have found their way into your body. 

"All you really deserved was to die on Murphy Day." He snarled in your direction as his impatience once again showed through his slipping mask. "Throw them in the slammer."

That's it. Goodbye knuckles. Always the perceptive, Kayden grabbed your upper arm, right below the Algax's clean-cut, and pulled you back to his side even before you made the first step towards the bastard. Always there to keep you alive for another day. What a nice friend. 

"Hands behind your head." Rhian barked as he approached you and Kayden from behind. 

Doing as you were told, you noticed the troopers hesitating before doing as ordered when you nodded at them. Tech lifted his good hand, the other keeping hold of Crosshair's cage. One of the archers went to seize it, but a sudden shoulder to the sternum kept him away. 

He's not just a nerd. You smirked as the archer stumbled. 

"Let them keep it." Rhian waved off the fuming archer who definitely wanted to go back and win his fight. Too bad. "Walk ahead. You know the way." Rhian nodded towards the door after getting a hold of Kayden's bow and quiver, his very own bow aimed at the floor. The string was stretched just enough to cause serious damage if he needed to defend himself quickly, but he seemed to know that it wasn't needed. 

Kayden led the way with you in tow, Elijah and Pete moved away from the door to let you pass at a safe distance. Out of the corner of your eyes, you noticed Rhian breaking formation to move up to Arlan, who surely waved him over. 

You sighed as you remembered that he didn't even tell you why he wanted you here. 

The clone's boots resonated against the rock floor at each of their steps, close enough to appease your mind. 

"Do you know a way out of here?" Hunter's voice emanated softly within your ear. 

You moved your shoulder blades in a circular motion as if you were stretching the muscles and nodded your head at the same time as to not look too suspicious to the archers escorting the group. Good thing that they didn't notice your earpiece yet.

Wrecker must have been the one right behind you because he relayed the message to Hunter through the private line. 

"Now?" You rotated your head from side to side like when you needed to crack your neck. 

"No." Came Wrecker's whisper. 

"In the slammer?" A small nod. 

"Yeah." 

"Then we wait and we get out as soon as possible." Hunter told his half-plan to the Batch who hummed their approvals. 

Once again the unusual parade that you formed along with the armored men attracted many curious eyes. Ignoring them was easier this time around, the familiarity of their chary gazes finally coming back to allow you to concentrate on something else. 

This part of the village was carved so deeply into the mountain that even the occasional howls coming from the jungle couldn't be heard. There couldn't have been better protection for a population of more than 700 people than a natural barrier of rock. Sure, this very convenient refuge could easily become a tomb for a lot of villagers in the event of a breach, but several emergency tunnels were created for this very situation. They were maintained at a perfect condition in case a repeat of Frabas' catastrophe ever came to happen. 

Every Alryan learned the location of every single tunnel at the youngest of age. They were only to be used in emergency cases and right now, it was an emergency. It all depended on the perspective. 

"It never changed." You stated quietly as the slammer's entrance came into view, the dark purple glow emanating from its depths was a stark contrast to the lively colors of the main area. 

Goosebumps rose on your arms as you followed Kayden down the tunnel. The nearby natural well raised the humidity in these parts of the mountain and thus caused the air to become colder. Just my luck, you thought as the fresh air infiltrated your clothes by the multiple tears in their fabric. 

"In there." Rhian speed-walked to catch up with Kayden and direct him to a cell carved into the wall on his left. 

You were locked up with him, Wrecker and Hunter got situated in the cell facing yours, Crosshair and Tech on the one right beside theirs. 

Right as Tech got in after a growling Crosshair, Rhian took hold of the cage and kicked Tech inside who landed in a yelp. You weren't even gripping the bars yet that the heavy door closed behind the engineer. 

"Give him back!" 

"Sorry 'bout that." He threw the cage in the air twice, the flame within shaking frantically as it hit the bars. "Orders are orders." He ignored the yells of his name bouncing in the detention center and walked out unbothered, his men in tow. 

"How quick can you get us out of here?" The urgency in Hunter's tone only added to your own raiding anxiety. What would Arlan do to Crosshair? He was totally defenseless. 

"Couple of minutes. But we'll need Back-Up. I hope you have it." You turned to Kayden who scoffed in mocked offense. 

"You have back-up?" Tech wondered out loud, tilting his head. "I thought no one would help you here." 

"Jeez. Thanks for the vote of confidence." Kayden held his heart before reaching for his chest pocket. "Back-up is my Godot." He pulled a hand-sized lizard from his pocket to show the Batch. 

The Godot's orange scales shone softly at Kayden's contact, their light reflecting onto the soft line of baby blue leaves growing on each side of its spine. Its three-fingered paws grabbed fingers and clothes to remain in place while two black eyes moved independently from one another to take in what was happening around. Its long tail wrapped around Kayden's wrist as he lifted it up to show off, the small leaves at its end shining brightly in surprise. 

Wrecker gasped and lifted his helmet to get a better view of the animal. "That's what I saw the first time, Tech! It's the lizard that disappeared!" 

"Nothing disappeared Wrecker. There was nothing there." Tech rebuked.  

"Don’t be so sure about that! They can camouflage themselves, right Back-Up?" At the half-baked order, the tiny lizard shut off its light and changed its skin pigmentation to copy its environment to perfection. 

"It disappeared Tech! See? That's what I saw and you didn't believe me!" Wrecker's tone raised as he pointed to Kayden's seemingly empty outstretched hand. 

"Wrecke-" You tried to warn him to keep his voice down but heard steps coming your way. 

"Back-up, go get the master key at home." Kayden hurriedly whispered to the Godot and quickly kneeled to allow it access to the ground so it could wander away and get the required object. 

A guard appeared at the end of the corridor just as Kayden got up and threw himself onto the upper hammock fixed to the walls. He moved around to get comfortable and into the right position, hands under his head. 

"So, I've heard that Stockholm syndrome was hard on you." Brett, a particularly annoying scout, mocked from behind his beard. 

"Nope. Still don't like y'all." You replied nonchalantly despite the urge to punch him through the bars. 

"I was talking about them." He pointed to the two cells containing the clones and you lifted a single eyebrow. 

"Tech, definition of Stockholm syndrome please." You asked, maintaining eye contact during the whole process. 

"Stockholm syndrome," You saw the genius perked up at your request. Sadly, he didn't lift a finger in the air while he recited the meaning of the word. "Is a psychological response wherein a captive begins to identify closely with his or her captors, as well as with their agenda and demands." He ended with a nod and the movement satisfied you enough to let the lack of a finger go.  

"That means you dumbass." You spat as you crossed your arms over your chest. "I'm with them willingly." 

"Get fucked!" Kayden shouted with a laugh that got half a smile out of you. 

"You? Our captive? It sure felt like the other way around." He finally switched to basic and the hate coating his words told you that he wasn't talking about the pranks and snarky attitude, no, he was talking about something bigger than that. 

"What are you talking about?" Maybe you could get more answers out of him than you did with Arlan. 

He scoffed. "Stop trying to play the idiot. Between the two of you, Kayden's the best at it." 

You ignored said idiot's thanks to press the matter. "Okay and let's imagine I really don't know what the hell you're talking about. What in the damn world did I do?" You remembered Arlan's word and almost added what is wrong with me? but Brett was already dropping the three medicine canisters to the ground, out of reach from either your cell or the clones' and went away. 

"You live." 

You sat on the ground, drained of every ounce of energy you once had. What was wrong with you? Why did everyone want you dead? The fear you felt at Arlan's words came back as you thought about what it could all mean. The Nightmares who stopped appearing when you left and came back when you did. Whatever the Core was that supposedly resided in you and the fact that the Lumsin knew what it was while you didn't. That the villagers never saw you as an annoying brat but a vile oppressor. 

You faintly heard Kayden talking with Tech about Back-up, but couldn't make out the exact words, your own thoughts being way too loud for you to clearly hear anything outside your head. 

"It's alright. Don't worry about it." An arm fell on your shoulders and pulled you into Kayden's side who now sat next to you on the ground, successfully pulling you out of your own mind. Yet, as comforting as his gesture was supposed to be, you only felt guiltier. Even when everyone else pointed their fingers at you, he was still there to keep yourself up even after you'd vanished on him. 

Kayden scratched the clothes over his heart again and cut off your incoming guilty declaration. 

"Question. If the half-skull one was to break my jaw or somethin' and that you didn't see it happen, would you believe me if I told you it was him?" Kayden asked, frowning too deeply for you to brush the question off as one of his stupid ones. 

"Wha-?" Then it dawned on you. "Did you threaten him?" You asked Hunter, voice raising in octaves. 

You knew Kayden probably deserved it, but he was your best friend. You've been helping each other for more than 15 years and there was no way you'd let him get beaten for a stupid jealousy tantrum. 

An invisible hand squeezed your heart as you felt Kayden relaxing against your side. He doubted that you'd listen to him. More importantly, he doubted that you'd trust his word over someone else's. Sure it was Hunter's word, but you knew the Sergeant was not in his right mind and not only because of the irrational feeling. 

"He wouldn't stop talking." The unbothered tone in which he answered shocked you. 

"Yet you've never threatened Tech." 

"That's not the same." Why must he sound like he truly believed that he did nothing wrong? 

"You may not value his life and health, but I do. A lot." You emphasized the last word so he got the message. "And his word is the only single one in the galaxy that I never ever doubted." 

Kayden's breath sharply filled his lungs and Hunter's fingers curled into fists. You still deeply loved the dark-haired Sergeant and seeing him frustrated at your words made a real number on your insides but that rational part of your brain told you that he would tire of you someday and would leave, whereas Kayden had shown countless of times that he'd be there to hold your hand, push your back and pull you up whenever needed. 

"Good to know." 

Why did his acknowledgment of your words make you sick? You'd said those words yourself and they were true, so how could they hurt that much? If it wasn't of the half-circles traced on the back of your right hand, you certainly would have had a physical reaction. It could have been hiding in your hammock or tears leaking from your eyes, you didn't know. 

"You don't trust us?" Wrecker's hurt translated in his low, nearly inaudible tone if it wasn't of the earbud deeply pushed into your ear canal. 

"I do Wrecker. I really do. It's me that I don't." Damn. For someone who wanted to avoid feelings-talks like the plague, you found yourself right in the middle of the deepest one ever. 

"I don't understand." He admitted. 

"I-" You sighed, trying to find the words that would explain something you didn't know how to explain. "I don't myself Wrecker. I make people despise me and-" The words escaped you. Out of exasperation, your free hand moved up to rub your closed eyelids and drag the pads of your fingers down your cheeks. 

"When they don't you persuade yourself they do and you tell yourself that they'll give you up so you start to doubt them even when there's nothing to worry about." Kayden shrugged at your wide eyes looking at him. "Don't be surprised I know you better than yourself. You did the same shit with me but I didn't let you." 

"Then why did you doubt yourself against Hunter?" 

" 'cuz you love him." He answered in your native tongue and you were grateful for it. You weren't ready to say the words out loud and if Kayden, the person who just demonstrated that he knew you like the palm of his hand, said those words himself, then he'd throw your feelings out in the open and you couldn't have that. Not when your brain still expected the Bad Batch to get back to their ship and leave you on Fors, where you belonged. 

"You were there longer."

"Yeah, but that was because you couldn't escape me. Give them their chance. You might be surprised." He patted your shoulder like an old man who gave advice to a youngster. 

"We wouldn't give you up. You're our friend!" Wrecker added once the conversation in a foreign language died. 

"If you still doubt our friendship, then you might want to remember that we passed hundreds of hours training you to be our pilot and that we lied to our superiors to keep you." Tech pointed out, this time with the finger in the air. It brought the tiniest of smiles to your lips. 

"Or remember the moments shared." Hunter surprised you with his quiet words that Kayden definitely couldn't hear without a comm device. Had he realized that he was fighting a non-existent enemy? Or did he feel as bad as you following your exchange?

"Or you can remember that you're a freak." Tech slapped his lean brother's shoulder 

"So I belong with you guys? Yeah, I'll- I'll do my best to remember all that." A chuckle escaped your lips. "Thanks." You added under your breath, to which the boys nodded and Wrecker smiled brightly. 

"Is your chest okay?" Tech asked and pointed at Kayden who was still scratching his torso. 

"Yeah, 's just itchy. I think Kerth put some poison Ivy in my clothes. I wouldn't be surprised." He pulled his shirt forward to look at his skin. He winced. "That does look like it." 

"You never get tired of looking at yourself?" A soft feminine voice chuckled from down the hallway. 

Soft brown eyes shone behind fiery red locks, their owner walking straight to your cell where she stopped to pass you a hot container. You'd recognize that smell everywhere and apparently so did your stomach who growled loudly in anticipation of receiving some soup. 

"Good timing, I see." She chuckled, put her pack on the ground and offered you a container. "It's not poisoned, I promise. I did it myself." She assured in basic when you kept watching her hands without making any move towards the food. 

Still unmoving, Kayden took it upon himself to grab two containers and let the redhead give the clones their servings. 

"They wanted me to only feed the soldiers but I slipped some for you two as well. For all the spare crusts." She nodded at you, who kept watching her in silence. Before turning around to go back to where she came from, the woman had the kindness to grab the discarded medicine canisters and offer them to Kayden. "Take care." 

Wait. You had to tell her. It was like your brain forgot how everything worked. Opening your mouth wasn't hard compared to finding what to say. Even then your throat constricted in an attempt to shut you up, but you couldn't let her go without telling her. 

She deserved to know. 

"Fleena." Was all you managed and it was enough to stop her in her tracks. When she turned, your hand was already fishing around in your pocket for the small piece of wood. 

She came back as you brought your closed fist forward and dropped the dirty necklace on her open hand. 

She stared at it, surprise taking over her soft features in a flash as soon as she recognized the symbol. She turned it to inspect the back and now was the right time for the earth to open beneath your ass and take you away. 

"Where did you get that?" The tremors in her voice send a knife through your heart. 

Swallowing down the lump in your throat, you made sure to choose your words better than with Hunter. "Nixon was a Wanderer."

"He-" She started with hope until she registered your sentence. "Was?" 

There it was. The moment to own what you did finally arrived. 

"What did you do?" She pressed as you kept silent, unable to say it out loud. 

"It wasn't him anymore, Fleena. He hadn't grown up and kept walking in circles on his bleeding feet. He was tormented." 

You freed him. You helped him. Now that her horrified hazel eyes bore into yours, Crosshair's words that were so helpful before held no sense. 

"He was still my brother." She clutched the necklace to her chest, tears running down her cheeks. 

"Nixon was gone." 

"I don't expect you to understand. You don't know anything about having a sibling." 

The silence following her retreating steps was even heavier than before. No. That wasn't true. The boys spoke in the background and in your ear, prompting you to remove the device to have some peace. 

"You're right, I don't." You grumbled in your knees that were now up to your face to hide your features, your arms tightly wrapped around them to keep them close. 

"That's the biggest bullshit that ever came out of your mouth." Kayden scoffed next to you. "What do you think I am then? Your friend?" He puffed like it was the stupidest joke he'd ever been told. "Fuck no. We've been family ever since your dad died so cut the crap or I'll hit you." 

I should be punching you for saying such stupid stuff. 

"For real. I'll hit you so hard you won't ignore me again." He shuffled around to better position himself, arm lifting-

"I've abandoned you." You spat more at you than at him. 

"Siblings sucks but we love them anyway." He shrugged. "You're no exception." 

Tears gathered in your eyes. Even after leaving him alone to fight for himself, Kayden still loved you as much as before and never once held a grudge against your actions. He was a true god-given gift and you'd treated him unfairly. 

Pain exploded into your shoulder and you found yourself colliding with the ground. 

"The fuck?" Four spots on your shoulder hurt so deeply that it didn't take long for you to realize that he'd hit you with his knuckles. 

"My monthly quota was not yet achieved." He smirked, watching you massage the beaten skin. 

"Don't you think I'm hurt enough already?" 

"Stop whining, we have Biogel." He shook the metallic container before your face. 

"That thing hurts like hell." You groaned, pushing his hand away to sit straight. 

"When did you become such a baby?" You shot him the deadliest glare you had in reserve. "Hey. It's a very small price to pay for completely healed wounds in under 30 minutes." 

"Completely healed?" Tech inquired, eying the matching container in his hands that Kayden pushed him. 

"Yeah! One good layer and bye-bye! Works for sprained stuff too, just takes a little longer." Kayden answered as he helped you apply the cold sticky gel onto your arms. "Little tips: let someone else put it on you." He added as you hissed and groaned under the burning feeling that came with the product. 

Your hands closed and opened repeatedly to keep from hitting Kayden in retaliation for the pain he was putting you through. The raging fire led to intense stinging that you could describe as white-hot needles poking your damaged skin. 

"Please remember that you love me." Kayden said right before he dropped a huge blob of Biogel onto the hole in your leg. Had he not jumped away, your elbow would have connected with his chest at high speed. Instead, all that got injured were your nerves, your vocal cords and Hunter's head. 

"I'll murder you if you do that again." You whimpered while clutching your upper thigh in hope of cutting every pain transmission from your leg to your brain. 

"Good thing it was the last one!" He laughed from his side of the cell, Biogel discarded to the profit of the warm bowl of soup which he was already drinking like he'd been starved for a week. 

Wrecker's gasp and groans filled the air. A quick glance his way showed Hunter applying a coat of the translucent substance on his burnt hands and neck as well as on the cuts on his arms. Then came Hunter's turn who covered some scratches from the Yappians and after some thought applied some of it on the side of his forehead. No sound escaped his throat, the only proof of the pain assaulting his nerves being the scrunching of his face, unlike Tech who yelped when Crosshair carelessly applied the gel on his wrist and arms. Then, like pain didn't affect him at all, he splattered some on his swollen ankle and it was done. 

"I'm sure no one really wants to eat right now, but it'd be good to eat the food until Back-up comes back and we have to leave." Kayden reminded. 

"What's that?" Crosshair asked, more worried about the soup than Wrecker was. The tank was already slurping the soup down, mindful of his sensible fingers. 

"In basic I guess it translates as bone soup." Wrecker stopped abruptly, mouth still scotched to the bowl. He eyed you in distress, pondering if it was safe to swallow or not. "It's good, despite the name. Hunters usually eat that before a hunt to boost their systems, right Y/N?" Just for the sake of the game, you nodded. It was true anyway. 

"And eh… what's in it?" Tech moved the container in small circles to try and identify what was floating in the light yellow liquid. 

"Roots, meats, some veggies, guts and ground bones." You kept your poker face as Kayden enumerated the 'ingredients' and Wrecker lost all colors. "Where do you think the name comes from?" 

Wrecker spat his enormous gulp and you laughed to the point of tears, soon joined by your best frie- brother. 

"He's just fucking with y'all, Wreck. It's called bone soup because there's bone marrow in it to help with our joints. And there’s no guts. We're no savages." You did your best to control your laugh before digging into your soup eagerly. How Kayden always managed to get your mood up was a total mystery, but it always worked and you were grateful for it. 

"Could've fooled me." Crosshair taunted. 

"Ya can choke on it." You said at the same time Kayden did, getting a laugh out of it. 

The delicious soup filled your stomach in less than 10 gulps and it wasn't until you put your bowl down that you realized how good it made you feel to fill that emptiness in you. The soup wasn't enough to make you sleepy after a nice meal and provided just enough nutrients for everyone to be able to face the fast-approaching escape without a problem. Mixed with the Biogel, you were back at the top of your games. 

Arlan really made an error in taking care of the group. 

"What now? What's your plan?" Hunter wondered, posing his container on the ground. 

You met gaze with Kayden and he nodded confidently. "How well can you all swim in your armors?" 

"In calm water, we are fine but slow. We can't go in strong water. The current will catch in the plastoid and will drag us down." 

A hum resonated from within your throat and you pucker your lips. "You can't give them up. That scratch out the underground well and the waterfall." You taped your lips in thought. Watching Tech who still drank with only one hand, you knew that hiking wasn't an option as well. For now at least. 

"Then it's the dark pit." Kayden pointed out. 

It indeed was the last possible option. The other remaining one would be to use the front gates and it was the least possible one. 

"Yeah. The other tunnels would take too long to get out and then we'd lose too much time walking back at the Old Man's cave." You recalled from your mental map of the jungle. "I'm fairly sure we have two hours until dawn. The Old Man's Cave is 15 minutes away from here if we run." 

"Then we run." Hunter agreed. 

"Now, to get out… Hey, big guy." Kayden called. "What's the name?" 

"Wrecker." He answered proudly, almost puffing his chest out. 

Kayden scoffed. "Obviously. Should'a figured." He turned to you. "Is it too late to change my name?" 

The moron was too far for a shoulder slap, so you showed your exasperation with a roll of your eyes. "Stop screwing around and tell us your idea." 

"Yeah yeah." The childish tone wasn't surprising on his part. He turned his attention back to the tall clone. "So, Wrecker, I bet you're experienced with big shafts so how good are you with pulse-hammers?" In a flash, you threw your empty container at his head with utmost precision that you knew Crosshair would be proud. The flying object was as unexpected for him as the inappropriate sentence was for you and hit him square on the forehead. 

"I'll strangle you." You threatened. 

"Kinky." He winked while nursing his forehead. 

"With what?" Wrecker inquired, too focussed on the unknown term to pick up at the dirty joke.

"Her han-"

"Not that, morron." You cut him off. "The big hammer that exploded that tree back at the pit." You clarified for Wrecker. 

"Oh! I've never used one before, but I'm sure it can't be that hard!" Excitement glimmered in his eyes at the perspective of using the powerful weapon. 

"Oh believe me it's hard." Kayden smirked way too smugly for your taste. 

"Okay. Time out. Planning is paused." You poked the palm of your hand with the fingertips of your other hand. "I call pervert veto card." You deadpanned. 

"Oh hell no you can't!" Was there panic in his voice? Yes. Definitely. 

"Oh heck yes I can! Once a year for 24 hours and I'm using it now." Thank the gods you'd not used it before. 

"But-!" 

"No but or butts. No sexual reference in any form, implied or not. 24 hours starting now." He glared at you from his spot two meters away. You could have laughed at his face that perfectly mirrored a kid who just got his Christmas gift stolen directly from its small weak hands. 

"You're fucking me in the ass." He grumbled like an overgrown petulant child.

You lifted an eyebrow. "Try again. You can do it."

"Party pooper." 

"There you go." As you turned to the rest of them, a laugh escaped your lips at the clones�� expressions. 

Crosshair, despite his feelings blockade, was covering his mouth, Wrecker was laughing his ass off, Tech looked relieved behind his horrified eyes and Hunter chuckled. He appeared to be pleased and somewhat totally used to the situation, which grabbed your curiosity. 

Later. You forced a cough to get everyone's attention. "Let's continue. To answer your question, Wrecker, handling a pulse-hammer is not hard. Only remember to not touch the head," You had to stop to point at Kayden in a threatening manner when you sensed a perverted comment about to escape his idiotic mouth despite the veto card being used. "And hit with the glowing side. If you hit with the other side, you'll damage the hammer and it'll be useless." 

"I can do that!" Wrecker enthusiastically nodded. 

"So we plan into exploding our way out of here? What do we do about Cross?" Tech pointed out what he thought was a flaw in your plan. 

Right at this moment, Back-Up appeared before Kayden, its fluffy leaves puffing out in pride as Kayden removed the Master key from its belly pouch. What a marvelous creature they were. Being able to fit your own size in an extensible pouch that covered your body from your collarbone to your pelvis was truly amazing and more than practical. 

"We'll split. Kayden will guide you guys to the emergency tunnel and I'll go get Cross. I'll meet you all as soon as I can." 

You nearly hadn't finished that Hunter inevitably rejected your plan. "No. We stay together."

"We can't. You guys will be the decoy I need to sneak around and find him and having one of you with me will catch attention and slow me down." You cut Hunter as he still looked like he was about to be opposed. "I still have my comms and earbud. I'll contact you every 5 minutes." You offered in an attempt to compromise. 

Silence stretched and you got up, already ready to depart. The tingling in your arms and leg had subsided some time ago and to your sweet surprise, applying weight on your leg didn't hurt as much as before. 

Kayden unlocked the cells and a hand softly grabbed your forearm. "Fine. You comm every 5 minutes and you take this." He moved to Tech to rummage through his belt and hand you a pistol. "Use it if needed." 

You took the pistol with a steady grip despite the uncertainty shaking your guts. It was the very first blaster you've ever had in your hand and it was heavier than you thought. "Don't worry. I will." You assured him, voice strong and unwavering. 

But… could you really?

[clanoffetts]

someday. | paz vizsla x fem!reader

chapter I

masterlist

synopsis: Paz Vizsla finds himself stuck on Dantooine with a broken ship and no credits. Luckily, he finds you, a mechanic that will fix his ship for passage to Hosnian Prime. Over the course of your time together, a courtship blooms.

warnings/things to note: star wars swear words; reader has hints of PTSD that will be expanded on in further chapters (and those will be tagged with stronger warnings); blatant lack of knowledge of ship mechanics; only one use of ‘Y/N’

word count: 5.1k

Dirt kicked up behind heavy boots. Hands stopped their work so heads could turn. It wasn’t often a Mandalorian showed up. Actually, one had never showed up. And this one was huge. A buff man, covered in heavy armor that had been painted blue. Even his helmet evoked fear. The townspeople were watching myth become reality. 

The large man walked into Aliria’s Shop. The shop had a name once, when Aliria’s parents had opened it, but that was some 80 years ago now. The shop had survived the Clone Wars and the Empire, not to mention the constant flow of smugglers and thieves customary to the Outer Rim. Aliria’s Shop wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon. 

It was a fairly small shop, especially considering all the things packed into it. Aliria carried food, clothes, a small array of weaponry, and medical supplies. There wasn’t much in the little town, a droid mechanic, a ship mechanic, a small infirmary, and a bar. Aliria’s Shop was the hub, she had the essentials. 

The Mandalorian was like a bull in a china shop inside the store. Aliria had crammed crates, tables, and shelves into every crevice of the store. Not to mention the various pieces of merchandise hanging from the ceiling. 

“Watch it, Mandalorian!” Aliria yelled at the man as he almost hit the shelf of fruits with the huge gun on his back. She may look like a frail older woman at the age of 75, but her voice didn’t show it. Aliria’s tan skin was weathered and her body was tired, but her voice held life. She was the backbone of the community. 

The armored man let out a gruff sorry before moving on. He was looking down at his gauntlet, reading some kind of list. “Kriffing hell, how do I find anything in here?” 

“We don’t get many outsiders, Mandalorian,” she said. “But my sales associate can help you. She was an outsider once, too.”

The pitch black of his visor shifted to you. Your hair was a bit messy, as you’d just helped your co-worker unload a speeder of goods. But you smiled at him. A change of pace is always nice. You walked from behind the counter to be in front of the Mandalorian and you asked, “What are you looking for, sir?” Your customer service voice was rough, you never needed to use it with most of the customers. They knew you personally, everyone knew everyone here. 

“You got ration bars?” His voice was gruff and deep, but you couldn’t tell if that was just because of the helmet. 

“Not many,” you told him. “Maybe ten? Aliria has such good prices, no one ever needs to buy a ration bar in place of real food.” It was a sales pitch you’d been taught when training here, but it was the truth. Why pay a credit for a ration bar when you can pay a credit for instant noodles? 

He huffed a little. “I’ll take all ten.” This man was weird, you decided. “Non-perishables? Do you have any?”

“We’ve got some beans, some vegetables that won’t go bad for at least a few years, rice, and a few other things. They’re all kind of scattered around.”

“Of course they are,” he was annoyed. “Where’s the vegetables?”

You pointed through a door at the back of the shop. “Greenhouse out back. Tell me what you need, I’ll go grab it.” Reluctantly, he showed you his gauntlet. It was a grocery list. You locked the information into your mind, grabbed a basket and headed to the greenhouse. 

When you got back, he was in the same place. He must’ve seen your confusion because he said, “I’d rather not waste time looking for things myself. I figure you’d be better at it.” And you were. You helped him get everything he needed, but the list just got weirder. Baby formula, toddler sized coveralls, ammunition, a journal, and more miscellaneous items that made no sense to you. You didn’t believe a Mandalorian was going to hand write something and in a journal, no less.

You wanted to know more, but you had a feeling he wouldn’t be keen on questions. Before you’d come to Dantooine, you’d been all over the galaxy and heard stories of Mandalorians and their secrecy. 

“What brings you to Dantooine, Mando?” You ask as you ring up the last of his items, putting them in the up-cycled grain bag grocery bags. You were tired of the tense silence, Aliria had gone into the back to do Maker knows what, and the Mandalorian’s stare was unnerving. 

“Work,” he said. His visor remained unmoving, his eyes were on you. You had a feeling that ‘work’ was something either illegal or close to it. “You?”

You were surprised. And, again, he must’ve noticed. “The old lady said you are an outsider, too.”

“Was an outsider, Mando,” you correct, bringing up his total. “I came here for work, too.” He could tell you were lying, or at least not sharing the whole truth. “It’s two-hundred credits, Mando.”

He reached into a pouch on his belt, and pulled out all the credits. “That should be two-hundred.” It was. Exact change and everything. Once you’d counted the money and placed it in the register, he grabbed all his bags with ease and turned to walk out. 

“Have a nice day!” you tell him, remembering your lines Aliria insisted on. He said nothing in return.

-  

Paz Vizsla arrived back at his ship far out from the town. He put the bags of supplies for the covert in the cargo hold and cleared the message from Armorer that detailed what they needed. After the covert had to relocate, they were in desperate need of supplies. Especially for all the children who lost a buir or, Maker forbid, both buire. The children who had basically become foundlings. Paz’s heart broke for them, he tried to be the best ba’vodu, but there some things that even stories from Uncle Paz couldn’t fix. 

He’d spent the little bit of left over change from the bounty on something for each kid, even Bezza, who was old enough to be treated as an adult at seventeen. She’d lost her buire, and the least Paz could do was get her a nice, leather-bound journal that she’d been pining for. Something hard to come by in a galaxy that had moved on from physical writing. 

Paz closed the cargo hold and began moving himself towards the cockpit. He was tired, and though no one else agreed, he was getting old. Nearing 44, he was ready to just be Mr. Vizsla the teacher, Uncle Paz, and hopefully buir someday. But he was one of the Tribe’s best fighters. They needed him to keep hunting, so he did. This is the Way. 

He moved to start up the ship. It gave a groan, but lit up all the same. Paz began his takeoff procedures, but the ship wouldn’t budge. Kriff, he thought. This can’t happen. Paz Vizsla was a capable fighter, fluent in Mando’a, and a brilliant teacher, but he was no mechanic. That had always been his biggest shortcoming. I have no credits, he realized. Stuck on Dantooine with no credits. 

Dirt kicked up behind heavy boots. Hands stopped their work so heads could turn. It wasn’t often a Mandalorian showed up. But this one had now shown up twice. The awe of the townsfolk was still the same. He trudged back into Aliria’s Shop. This old woman would know someone willing to fix a ship for some food, he thought. She seems to know everything.

Except, when he walked in he was greeted by a new face. Not the saleswoman who’d helped him a few hours ago, nor was it the old woman. “How can I help you?” The boy asked. He couldn’t be more than sixteen. 

“You know anyone who’d be willing to fix a ship for a meal? Or maybe a small blaster?”

The kid shook his head. “No one around here is that desperate. I’ll go get Aliria, though. She might know someone I don’t.” The kid retreated into the back room without fully taking his eyes off Paz. 

When he returned, he had Aliria hobbling along next to him, bony hands around his arm. “Zenith says you need a mechanic? There’s a shop down the road but what he charges won’t be worth what you get,” the woman says. 

“I need someone who will work for something other than credits,” he says. “I don’t have any.”

You looked up from the datapad in the backroom. You had experience as a mechanic, you were rusty after all these years, but better than the other option, who probably learned by seeing a few pictures on the holonet. Maybe this was your ticket back out of the Outer Rim. You’d amassed enough credits to at least get an apartment for a bit until you can get work. Core Worlds always had open jobs, and you have connections. You hated to leave the little town, but it had always been the goal. You just thought it’d be many more years. 

You stepped out of the back room. “I’ll do it, Mando. I’ve got experience, I can probably fix it.” Zenith seemed surprised, but Aliria just smiled.

“I can’t pay,” he reiterated. 

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, you’ve said. We’ll negotiate the price on the way to your ship. You got tools?” He nodded. “I’ll be back tonight, Aliria. I’ll finish up inventory then.” The old woman told you not to worry about it and shooed both of you off, ready to get back to whatever she was up to in the storage room. 

As soon as the door shut behind you, you said, “Passage to Hosnian Prime. That’s all I’m asking.”

“Hosnian Prime? Do you know how long it’s going to take me to get from Dantooine to Hosnian Prime?” He was annoyed. The ship must be having a minor issue, but you were wanting a major payment. “And so far out of my way, my home is in the Outer Rim. And I’ll have no credits to refuel.”

Now you were the annoyed one. “I’m fixing your ship, Mando. You said anything but credits. My offer is passage to Hosnian Prime for the fixing of your ship.”

“How do I know you can even fix my ship? Why aren’t you the town mechanic?”

This wasn’t something you wanted to get into. You hadn’t talked about it in so long. Not since you got to Dantooine and Aliria took you in, vowing to help you back to wherever you wanted to be. “I was done being a mechanic, Mando, that’s why.”

“So you decided to work in a dingy little shop? With the galaxy’s oldest woman?”

You felt anger grow stem from the seed of annoyance. Aliria was like your grandmother. Like the whole town’s grandmother. And here comes an outsider, insulting Aliria’s shop. Aliria’s family built that town from the ground up. And this outsider insults her. “Do not speak of Aliria or her shop like that again, Mando. Or I won’t fix your ship and you’ll be stuck on Dantooine forever.”

Paz felt bad. He’d cut too deep, he’d only meant it to be a friendly dig about your job, a job most people weren’t ever satisfied with. He’d thought you’d laugh. He’d thought wrong. You walked in silence the rest of the way. 

“This is your ship?” you asked. No wonder it wouldn’t get off the ground. “Maker, Mando, what have you put this thing through?” It was dented, covered in carbon scoring, and there were chunks of it missing. You could only guess how bad the inner workings were. 

“A few altercations,” he replied. You couldn’t see his face, but you knew he was looking at this sorry excuse for a Mandalorian’s ship with love and pride. 

You laughed a little and shook your head. “I haven’t even looked at the wiring, but I think taking me to Hosnian Prime is the absolute least you could do for the work I’m going to have to do on this thing.”

“I just need it to fly,” he told you. “Nothing fancy.”

“Mando, this thing is going to pull itself apart when you try to leave the atmosphere. I’m surprised it even made it through,” you told him. 

The ship always groaned a little when Paz asked it to do things, but it always had obeyed. Without fail. Until now, of course. “It did sound a bit...pained when I arrived.” He left out the whole being fired at by ex-Imps and the harsh landing he’d made that’d landed him here. 

“Alright, I’ll go take a look, if that’s ok? And I’ll try to tell you when I think I’ll have it done.” He nodded, and pushed a button on his gauntlet, giving you access to the ship. 

-

“Bad news and good news,” you told him as you reemerged from the ship. “Bad news is this is a piece of junk and you should replace it. Good news is I can fix it and it’ll only take a few days.”

A few days. He needed to get these things back to the covert, they needed them. “Ok,” he said. “But before I take you to Hosnian Prime, we’ll need to make a pit stop on Yavin IV. I gotta get these supplies back.” You nodded, just as long as you’d be getting to Hosnian Prime at some point. 

“I’ll get started, if that’s ok?” He nodded and you retreated back inside. The external damage wasn’t as crucial as the internal, your job was going to be rough.

It was a long, hard rest of your day. The blasted ship held the humidity of the planet tightly and your coveralls were thick. You’d brought down the top half to tie around your waist, leaving you in your tank top and bra. You caught glimpses of the Mandalorian as you moved past the port holes, and he just sat there on a rock, not moving. All day. You couldn’t imagine the heat under that armor. 

When you came out of the ship again, it was night. “I’ve made good progress. It won’t be done tomorrow, but maybe the day after. If I’m lucky, of course.” And worked almost non-stop, you silently added.

“Good,” he says. “Go home and rest, dal’ika.”

You furrowed your brow. “My name isn’t dal’ika.” 

“I know,” he said, and then he moved past you onto his ship. 

“Good night to you, too!” You called. 

- 

You walked to Aliria’s small home once you got back into town. She deserved to know your plans, you thought. She’d probably even help. 

“Ah! Dear! You’re back!” she said. “I was worried the Mandalorian would take you, but then I figured you’d comm if he’d try anything.”

You smiled. “He didn’t do much of anything. Just sat there.”

“What did you tell him your price is, dear?” 

You took a deep breath and sat on the sofa next to her. “Passage to Hosnian Prime.”

“You’re leaving?”

You nodded. “It’s time,” you said. “I have enough credits, especially since I won’t have to pay for transportation.”

“What will you do there, dear?” Aliria was worried. You were a grown woman, yes, but she felt protective. 

“Find General Organa,” you said. “See if she keeps promises.” You knew she would. She always had.

Aliria gave a bittersweet smile. “I knew you’d leave someday, but I never thought of how it would feel.” Her heart was breaking, and so was yours. This woman took you in when you showed up a mess on Dantooine, she held you during nightmares, and she helped you buy the little hut you now call your own. She gave you a job and a place in the community. “You’ll do much good on Hosnian Prime, dear. I know you will.”

You didn’t know what she meant, but somehow you believed her. “Thank you, Aliria. Thank you.” You couldn’t seem to say anything else, but it wasn’t adequate to what you were feeling. You needed a stronger phrase, but you didn’t know one.

“Take care of that Mandalorian, now,” she said, trying to be a bit more lighthearted. “I’ve always thought you’d like a warrior husband.”

You rolled your eyes. All the old women in town were like this. “He barely even talks to me and calls me dal’ika instead of my name, which he hasn’t asked for, by the way.”

“He’ll warm up to you, I’m sure. Especially if he’s got to take you from here to Hosnian Prime,” Aliria said. “You didn’t talk much when you arrived, either, remember?”

Aliria always had a way of finding the good in people, even if it was hardly there. That was rare, especially this far out in the galaxy, and you cherished it. You’d learned early on not to do that, but Aliria helped you open up more. Maybe she was right, this journey would result in a new friend.

“Ok, Ali, I will take care of the Mando,” you said. “Now I think I’m going to go home. Want to be up early tomorrow to fix his ship.”

She nodded and patted your knee. “Take the speeder bike tomorrow, it seems like a long walk.” You nodded, and placed your hand over hers for a moment. “Good night, dear. Sleep well,” she said and then she shooed you out in the way only an old lady could.

-

The next morning it was cooler outside. The trees swayed gently in the soft wind, and you became grateful for the coveralls as you picked up speed on the bike. You looked the same as you did the day before, just a little less rested. There was a little sunlight, but not much, and there were still a few nocturnal animals on the path. 

Arriving at the ship, everything was still closed up, and the big Mando nowhere in sight. You contemplated banging on the door, but before you made a decision the door lowered into a ramp and he walked out. “You’re very early, dal’ika.” 

“Told you I would be. Need all the daylight I can get.”

“Indeed.”

His gaze bore down on you again. You really took in how large he was. He had to be over six feet tall and maybe even closer to seven in the armor. A few people in town speculated that he wasn’t actually as buff as he seemed and that it was just the armor, but you doubted that. 

“I’ll go ahead and get started, if that’s ok?” 

He nodded. “You don’t have to keep asking, dal’ika.”

“That’s still not my name,” you said in a singsong voice over your shoulder as you walked up the ramp. He walked over towards some of the denser areas of trees.

You tried to watch him as discreetly as possible through one of the port holes, but you had a suspicion that, somehow, he could tell you were watching. He walked over some of the logs of fallen trees that had piled up towards the edge of the clearing. He picked two large ones, one in each arm, and set them upright. Then, he placed the large stones on the top of and behind them to keep them standing. 

He retreated a few yards, and his hands slid down to his thighs. He brought two blasters back up. Ah, you thought. Target practice. 

As much as you knew you needed to begin your day’s work, you stood at the port hole and watched him fire blast after blast, and you knew he hit each spot he intended to. He moved back farther, fired some more, and then moved off at angles. You never thought you’d be attracted to a man whose face you’d never seen and name you didn’t know, but here you are. 

Finally, you tore your gaze from the beskar-covered man and began your work, getting the tool box from where you’d left it yesterday. 

-

It was noon when you walked down the ramp again. The Mandalorian had finished his shooting hours ago, and had now shed his shin and thigh armor, along with the heavy cannon he carried on his back. He was already looking at you when you stepped into the doorway. 

“Need something, dal’ika?” 

You shook your head. “Lunch time, Mando.” You pulled some kind of bar out of your pocket. “It’s got meiloorun filling,” you brag. 

“Sounds good,” he said, a little amused at what you considered something to brag about. 

You sat down on the rock opposite him. “You want one? I’ve got an extra.”

“No, thank you, dal’ika,” he replied. 

You sunk your teeth into the grain and meiloorun bar, chewed, and swallowed. “What language even is that?”

“Mando’a,” he said. “The language of my people.”

“The Mandalorians?” You ask dumbly.

He let out a chuckle, it was small, but the vocoder processed it. “Yes, dal’ika, but I thought that was obvious.”

“What’s that mean? That word you’re calling me?”

He contemplated for a moment, but finally told you. “Dal’ika means woman in Mando’a. Well, dala means woman. The ‘ika bit just means it's a nickname. It implies that you’re, well, small. It’s used for kids a lot but also for friends.” He regretted saying that, in case you found it insulting or weird. He quickly moved on. “And I definitely consider you more than an acquaintance, especially since we’ll be spending some time together.”

You looked at him. You’d never thought of yourself as small. “Well, that’s good to hear. And I think everyone is small next to you, Mando.”

He laughed again, and you took another bite. “I suppose so. What is your actual name?” You tell him, and he nods. “I can call you that, if you’d like?”

“Dal’ika is fine,” you say. You’d never really had a nickname before. “But you can call me my name, too, if you want.”

“Ok, dal’ika,” he said. “Where are you from?”

You looked at him. Why all the questions? You briefly thought of home, but closed your eyes. “Rather not say.”

He nodded, understanding. “I’m sorry that I keep saying the wrong things. I really should know better, considering I don’t like too many questions, either.”

“It’s ok, it’s not like you know what will strike a cord,” you tell him. You hurriedly finished your lunch, eager to get back on the ship in case memories of home flooded back into your mind and tears flooded your eyes. “Well, I’m off,” you say, standing awkwardly and walking back to the ship, leaving the Mando by himself again. 

You sat on the floor of the ship, one of the flooring panels removed, working on some wiring. In the back of your mind you saw your childhood home, the mountain peaks you could see from the backyard, and the neighbor kids that you’d played with every day after school. You remembered leaving. You remembered never being able to go back. 

Your hands are still in the wire compartment in the floor. You took a deep breath, closed your eyes, and smiled to yourself. Aliria always said smiling makes you feel better. It worked, and your hands began moving again, replacing and connecting wires.

-

Again, it was nightfall when you came out of the ship. The Mandalorian had all his armor on again, and he stood as you emerged. “I should’ve walked you home last night, dal’ika. It was dark when you left, I’m sorry for not offering.”

You felt your heart swell a little. He was a gentle giant, you decided. “Thank you, Mando, but I can take care of myself. Besides, it’s not like there’s dangerous people here.”

“Still,” he insisted. “I should have.”

You gave up and replied, “That would’ve been a kind gesture. I would take you up on the offer tonight, but Aliria lent me her speeder, so I don’t need an escort today.”

“As you wish,” he replied. “Just be careful, dal’ika. Hosnian Prime awaits.” He walked past you and onto the ship, just like he had the night before. 

-

The next day was almost the same, except you had to walk. Aliria needed the speeder for Zenith and supplies he was picking up from a nearby farm, but apart from that, everything was the same. You made small talk with the Mandalorian over your lunch (a star fruit bar today), and  watched him shoot his blasters from afar. You got a lot of work done today, most of the hard stuff was finished and now just needed some tweaking. You moved on to the exterior of the ship a few hours before nightfall. 

“Dal’ika,” he said as you started working on the exterior. “Only do what you absolutely need to on the outside. I’d hate to see your hard work go to waste when I get into another altercation.” 

You nodded, but replied, “I hope you don’t plan on getting into one of your altercations while I’m aboard.”

“Well, I never really plan on them, but I’ll be extra careful if it makes you feel better,” he told you. 

You smiled. “It does.”

“It’s going to get dark soon,” he said.

You nodded, opening one of the exterior panels and examining it. “I know. I just have a few more things,” you assured him. “And then I’ll take you up on your offer to walk me home.” You turned your head towards him and smiled, but what you didn’t know was that your smile brought the slightest blush to his cheeks. 

Paz sat back down on his rock while you worked on the exterior. He thought about the smile you’d given him, how you weren’t afraid of him. There’s something more to this one, he thought. Something’s made her tough, and it wasn’t this village.

Finally, you finished. “Alright,” you told the Mando as you exited the ship after putting the tools up. “It should fly, but we can test that tomorrow. For now, I need to go home.”

He nodded and stood from the rock. “Lead the way, mechanic,” he said. 

You walked a pace or two in front of him, even though he didn’t really need to be led to the town. It wasn’t like there were many of those around here, but he let you, and you rambled about the place with pride. About Aliria with pride. 

After a few beats of silence, he spoke up. “May I ask what’s on Hosnian Prime? If you don’t want to answer, just tell me.”

“An old friend,” you said and looked back at him again. This smile was different, he noticed, but he wasn’t sure how. “I haven’t seen her in a long time, but I know she still cares.” You were telling him the truth, so why did you feel like you were lying? He didn’t need to know that General Organa was the friend or why you knew her. But you almost wanted him to know. Still, you held back. 

“Oh,” he said. “Sounds nice. I’ve heard good things about Hosnian Prime.” Truthfully, he hadn’t heard anything about Hosnian Prime except that it was the new capital of the New Republic. 

“I have, too,” you agreed. “What about you? What’s on Yavin IV?”

“Family,” he said. He was telling the truth, so why did he feel like he was lying? And why was he trusting you with the planet of the covert? 

You nodded. “I figured, with all the baby stuff you bought. Is your wife a Mandalorian, too? I heard Mandos can only marry Mandos.”

He was shocked a little, forgetting that you didn’t know much about his culture. “No, I don’t have a wife. Or kids of my own. My Tribe is my family, and there are kids in the Tribe. They’re just not mine.”

“Oh, interesting,” you said, kicking a rock in front of you. You were surprised to find yourself relieved that he did not have a wife. “So, like, can you only marry inside your tribe?”

“No, dal’ika,” he laughed. “We’d end up with some interesting children if we kept it in the tribe. Some people marry within the tribe, some never marry, and others marry outsiders.” He didn’t really know how accurate his answer was. Maybe, in big tribes, people did just marry in the tribe. But the covert he belonged to was too small for that. 

You kicked the rock again as you arrived at the place it had landed. “Huh,” you said. “Guess I never thought about that.” 

“We prefer people not think about us at all,” he replied. His tone was solemn when he said this, and you instinctively placed a hand on his armored arm to comfort him. The Mandalorian was brought to a blush under his helmet again. Maker, he thought. How’s she doing this to me?

You walked into the town in comfortable silence, your arm now wrapped around his, fingers lightly rubbing the armor. It was meant as a soothing technique, but you doubt he could feel it under the layers of metal and cloth. Eventually, you neared your home. “That one’s mine,” you pointed. The house’s door was painted blue, and your flowerbed was filled with blue flowers. 

“Your house matches my armor, kebiin’ika,” he said.

A new nickname. “What’s that mean?”

“Kebiin is blue. And, you know, ‘ika is ‘small’ and an endearment.” 

“Little blue?” You ask.

He nodded. “Ding, ding, ding,” he said. “You’d pick up Mando’a quickly, I think.” You smiled at him, you spoke Basic and Huttese already, why not learn a third? He smiled back, though all you could see was metal and visor. “Are we leaving tomorrow?” 

“Yes, I think that’d be good. Tomorrow after lunch, maybe? I’ve got to pack up my stuff and say good-bye to everyone.” He nodded. He’d forgotten that you’re leaving your life behind. “I don’t have much stuff, by the way, so don’t worry about that.”

He chuckled again. “Even if you did, I wouldn’t worry. We’d find the space.” There was a warmth in his voice that made your whole body warm. You could tell he cared about the people close to him deeply if he cared about a stranger like this.

You unlocked your door and stepped inside. You weren’t expecting a good night, as you had no reason to, but you did stop yourself from closing the door all the way.

You looked up at him through the half-open blue door. “Thank you,” you said quietly. “For walking me home. It’s very kind.”

“You deserve kindness, Y/N,” he replies, as if it was painfully obvious. Then, you realized he said your name. Your real name, not some Mandalorian nickname. 

You smiled again, your lips were beginning to hurt but your face wouldn’t let you stop. “Will I ever get to know your name, Mando?”

“Someday.”

[avintagekiss24]

Hot for teacher [4] > Bucky Barnes

PAIRING; Dark!Professor!Bucky Barnes x black!reader, Dark!Peter Parker x black!reader

WORD COUNT; 7,973

WARNINGS; Age difference, teacher/student dynamics, spanking, smut, sex, loss of virginity, vaginal fingering, mention of blood, slight praise kink, slight crying kink?, overstimulation

SUMMARY; A friend comes to your defense and Bucky finally gives in.

NOTE; Gif credit goes to @/fluturojdallandyshia! I wanna say/reiterate that Cher, reader, and Peter are in their senior/last year of school AND they are all 18 years old. I had a “late” birthday (May), so I turned 18 three weeks before I graduated. My brother had an early birthday (September), so he turned 18 like two weeks into his senior year. Peter, Cher, and reader all have early (August/September) birthdays. Any crap about aging Peter up will be deleted and blocked. You’ve been warned multiple times - if you continue to read after this point, it’s on you.

I also gave reader a last name. Sue me. Hope this lives up to the hype... I’m probably gonna hide for the rest of the night and not look at tumblr for the rest of the night... posting anxiety sucks.

Any mistakes are mine, I was rushing towards the end, lol.

☞ PART FIVE | ☞ SERIES MASTERLIST

You toss your freshly braided hair over your shoulder as you move through the halls towards Bucky’s classroom. You’re actually pretty excited. Sure, you were fuming for most of the day yesterday but after a joint and an appointment with your vibrating boyfriend, your mind cleared. Your mother's words came floating back to you, and you knew what you had to do. Kill ‘em with kindness. After all, healthy competition goes both ways. 

You turn into his room, finding it empty, but the light on. No bother, you just move up the rows and plop down in your seat, pulling out your laptop. You don’t even look up when Cher walks in - late, of course - and sign loudly when she acknowledges you.

“Didn’t realize sucking up started this early.”

“And yet here you are,” you smile quickly, “Late, but here, nevertheless.”

She rolls her eyes, mumbling something about you being a bitch before she sits in her seat. Bucky arrives some minutes later, a cup of coffee in his hand, his glasses low on his nose, “Morning ladies. My apologies, I'm dragging ass today, had to get some coffee.”

You don’t answer. You don’t even look up from your screen as you tap away, finishing up your English paper. You hear the two of them making conversation, flicking your eyes up as Cher moves to the desk, leaning over it to no doubt show off the boob job her father paid for over the summer. Her irritating laughter rings out, but you pay it absolutely no mind until you feel a set of eyes on you within minutes. 

“You’re awfully quiet this morning.” Bucky says, tilting his head as you finally glance up at him from over your screen.

“Good morning Bucky.”

You watch as his jaw twitches slightly and his eyes squint at the sound of his first name. You shift in your seat, dropping your eyes back to your google doc, having to literally stop yourself from grinning. You’ve got him already.

“Bucky?” He questions, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

You click your teeth and scrunch your face as you pretend to be confused, “You did say at the beginning of the year to call you Bucky, yes? Has something changed?”

He scoffs lightly, a confused smirk playing on his lips as he rubs his chin, “I did, yes.” He agrees, shaking his head, “I thought you said you preferred Mr. Barnes.”

You shrug, “Well, I guess I don’t anymore.” You cut your eyes to Cher, who squints back at you, her lip slightly snarled, “If you want to be called Bucky, then I’ll call you Bucky.” You lift your eyes back to his, crossing your legs, “Just like everyone else.”

You drop your eyes back to your Macbook and fill the silence by tapping away at your keyboard again. You feel his eyes on you for a few seconds more before Cher draws his attention with some bullshit question. You stay true to course, never lifting your eyes back to him as he throws random looks at you, trying to get your attention as the class starts to fill up. 

You close your laptop but never really give him your full attention as you usually do as he begins his lecture. You glance out the window, or keep your eyes cast down on your pristine white shoes You gaze at your nails, making a mental note to schedule an appointment. You keep your legs crossed. You don’t engage, you don’t answer any questions, you don’t offer any insight. You just sit there -  like everyone else. 

His eyes are on you the entire hour. He poses questions, but ignores the raised hands for a few moments, waiting for yours to pop up into the air. When it doesn’t, his eyes linger on you for a few beats before he finally calls on someone. His questions get short, his thoughts sort of jumbled as the time dwindles. You smile. This is going to be easier than you thought. 

The bell rings and you fall in line with everyone else, heading towards the door. A hand catches your bicep and you sigh, but you keep your eyes straight ahead. Bucky nods and smiles at a few students before he turns his attention to you.

“You stopping by after class?” He asks gently, “I got something in my pants you might like.”

You smile back at him, cocking your head, “No, I can’t make it today.”

His lips part as his eyes bounce back and forth between yours, “Why not?”

“I have a riding lesson with Mr. Udaku.”

He laughs in disbelief as he runs his hand through his hair, “A riding lesson?” He repeats, “That early in the afternoon?”

“Yes.”

He clears his throat as irritation starts to bubble in his chest, “You gave me your schedule. Wednesday through Friday, six to eight, twice a day Saturday and Sunday.”

You shrug, “Not anymore.”

You take a step from him, but he stops you, grabbing your arm again. You turn towards him, your lips set in a hard line. He looks back at you, crossing his arms over his chest as you refuse to give in.

“Come on,” he says after the last student clears the room, “What is going on?”

“Nothing.” You shrug again as you answer sweetly, “What do you mean?”

“You’ve barely spoken to me today. This isn’t about yesterday, is it?” He probes, wrapping his arms around your waist, “I was just joking. You know you’re my favorite girl.”

You smile. It’s too late for that. You step out of his arms and head for the door as his eyes follow you, “You were absolutely right, Bucky,” you stress, “A little competition is healthy. For everyone.” 

You turn and walk out before he can respond.

----------

You brush down Apollo, your most prized possession as he neighs gently. You shush him, patting him softly on his side before you kiss him on his snout. He shakes his head and you laugh, reaffirming his good boy status just as Cher walks into the stalls. You throw your eyes at her as she stops in her tracks before rebounding quickly and moving to her horse’s stall.

“And just what are you doing here?” She asks.

“Isn’t it obvious? I have a lesson.”

You hear her scoff, “I’m not stupid.”

“You sure about that?” You giggle, rolling your eyes, “I moved my lessons to mirror yours, just so I can crush you everyday of the week. Show you who’s boss.” 

She tuts, batting her big eyes, “You just can’t stand it that Barnes doesn’t want you anymore.”

“Please,” you scoff, “Just the fact that he’s entertaining you, makes me reconsider his intelligence.”

You smile sweetly as you grab Apollo’s reins and start to walk him out of the barn. You lean into her and push some of her blonde hair off of her shoulder, “You fuck with me, I fuck with you. You should have stayed in your place, little girl.”

She slaps your hand away and you laugh before moving out into the field. You place your foot into the stir up and hoist yourself up onto Apollo, adjusting yourself on the saddle. You start a slow trot around the fenced in area, warming him up before you start working the obstacle course. 

Your lesson goes exactly how you thought it would, compliment after compliment from Mr. Udaku, (or T’Challa, as many of his students call him) about your form, your technique, your skill - while Cher struggled to keep up. Pride swells in your chest as you gaze upon her flustered, red face as she rips off her helmet and runs her fingers through her hair.

“Cher, you still need to work on not bouncing as much when you canter, you're still gripping too hard with your legs. Here,” T’Challa says,  “Watch Ms. Prescott.” 

He waves you forward and you start a canter with Apollo, your body moving naturally with his, “See how relaxed she is? You gotta let your legs stay soft. You have to remember to stay aligned with Cotton’s body or you’ll never be a smooth rider. Thank you Ms. Prescott.”

“Not a problem,” you coo sweetly, “I’m always here to help. You have my number Cher, you can text me anytime if you need any pointers.”

She narrows her eyes at you as she exhales hard, “Thank you.” She hisses as sarcasm drips from her words. 

“I mean, now that I’ve switched my schedule, we’ll get to ride together more. I don’t mind showing you the ropes. I know you’ve only started riding a few years ago.” You smile widely, continuing to step on her throat.

“I think that’s a good idea actually,” T’Challa agrees, “There’s no shame in asking for help sometimes Cher. Ms. Prescott’s knowledge and skill set could really help elevate your riding. You know she and Apollo are three time Champions.”

“Going for four,” you smile proudly, “Cher was there, cheering me on for all three of my wins. What did you place last year?” You ask, knowing good and damn well she was disqualified from your skill class.

“Fuck you,” she mouths.

Your smile practically breaks your face in two. Kill ‘em with kindness. You pull Apollo away from T’Challa and Cher, starting another slow trot around the fence. You glance over your shoulder and spot Bucky walking through the grass. You squint slightly, pulling on the reins to slow Apollo to a stop. You’ve never seen him out here before. He must be checking up on you, seeing if you really had a lesson this afternoon. You smile again. Men.

You click your tongue quickly and pat Apollo on his hip, turning him back towards the two teachers. You ride just close enough to hear their conversation but not close enough to where they’d know you’re snooping. You jump Apollo over the hogsback in the center of the arena as their conversation wafts towards you.

“I didn’t know she rode this early in the day, especially on Tuesdays.” You hear Bucky say.

“She usually doesn’t, but she texted me last night wanting to change her schedule to free up her weekends. She wouldn’t tell me why. It’s not like she really needs to practice this hard.”

You glance over at the two of them at the fence and meet Bucky’s gaze. You blink back at him, never one to back down from a staring contest, and quirk your eyebrows up your forehead. He turns his attention back toT’Challa, before he sends his gaze towards Cher. You turn Apollo again, trotting him over to another jump. 

You cut your eyes over your shoulder, watching Bucky shrug, “She’s been my TA for a few weeks. I just thought it was kinda sudden that she couldn’t stop by after class today.”

T’Challa slaps him on the shoulder, “I’m sorry man. Didn’t mean to steal your help away.”

“No, no,” you hear Bucky say before he links his eyes with yours again, “We’re just going to have to share her it seems.” He shakes T’Challa’s hand, “I’ll catch you later, huh?”

You watch as he moves back across the grass, running his hand through his hair as he bows his head. You let Apollo cool down for a few more minutes before you ride him back into the stalls. You brush him down again, before cleaning out his stall and laying down some fresh hay for him. You give him his dinner, feed him a few carrots as a treat for a job well done and rub noses before kissing him again. 

“You’re the only man I can depend on. See you tomorrow baby.”

You remove your gloves as you move out from the back of the barn, jumping slightly and clutching your chest when you come face to face with one Bucky Barnes, “Bucky -”

“Stop calling me that.” He answers sternly, his hands in his pockets, “You switched your riding schedule? Really?”

You shrug definitely, “So I wanted more lessons during the week, shoot me.”

“T’Challa said you don’t even need them. You’re just fucking with me.”

You giggle, “And Cher,” you add, “This isn’t all about you.”

“Can we just knock it off please? I’m sorry, okay? I told you, I was just joking yesterday.” He says with a huff, running his hands through his hair again.

You cross your arms over your chest, a smirk on your face and a sing-song tune in your voice, “But I’m just getting started, Bucky.”

“This isn’t funny.”

“Oh,” you laugh, “It’s a little funny. Look at you all worked up.” You mock, bopping his nose with your index finger, “You’re cute when you’re mad.”

“Hey. Prescott.”

You snap your head back towards the new voice, taking a quick step away from Bucky. You smile as the young Peter Parker leans up against the fence, nodding his head at you, “Peter Parker. How are you?”

“You got a minute?”

Your smile widens, “Of course.”

Bucky grabs your arm again before you step away from him, “I’m not finished talking to you.”

You pull away from him, “Well, I’m finished talking to you.” You state, stepping away from him, “I’ve been involved in competition my whole life, Bucky. I don’t cave and I certainly don’t lose. You wanted a competition, now you got one.” 

You turn on your heel and bounce towards the waiting Peter. He stands up straight, smiling at you again but keeps his eyes on Bucky as he walks off. Once you’re close enough, he nods towards him, “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

You wave it off, “No interruption. I don’t see you out here much.”

“Nah, I came by to see you. I think we can help each other out.”

“God,” you roll your eyes playfully, “You read my mind. I smoked my last joint last night.”

“Not with that,” he laughs, “Well, I can help you with that too, but I have something else in mind.”

You raise your eyebrows, intrigued with him, “Oh?”

“Word’s getting around that you and Cher are battling over Barnes.” You shoot your eyes towards him, “You know she’s got a big mouth.”

“Fuck,” you mutter.

“Don’t worry. Everybody here has something on them, nobody is gonna snitch for fear of it coming back on them ten times over.” He says slowly, scrunching his face slightly as he faces the sun, “That’s what I thought I could help you with.”

You cross your arms as you glance around the deserted area, “How’s that?”

“You know Cher and I fucked around for a while late last semester, right before summer. Turns out, the fucking bitch burned me.”

“Ugh,” you grimace, “You’re kidding?”

“No. My parents intercepted the test results. That’s why my ass has been on lock down. Plus, I had to be on a fucking regimen of antibiotics to get rid of the shit. Killed my fucking game for the summer, man.”

You giggle a little, bumping your shoulder with his, “Sorry to hear it, but what exactly does that have to do with me, Parker?”

“It would kill her if we hooked up,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows, “Barnes too. He hates me.”

You inhale deeply as your lips curl into another devilish smile, “I didn’t know you had Barnes.”

“I have him in the afternoon. He busts my balls over every little fucking thing.” He rolls his eyes, “Cher is absolutely obsessed with you, it would drive her nuts. It’s the best revenge that I can get and I know you love making her feel second best.”

“It gives me great joy, actually.” You watch as Peter laughs, “Alright Parker, you got yourself a deal, but we need to draw some lines.”

“Okay,” he nods, shoving his hands in his pockets, “Lay ‘em out.”

“I don’t,” you start, clearing your throat, “I haven’t fucked-fucked yet and I'd like to keep it that way.”

“Saving it for Barnes?” He teases.

“Fuck you,” you giggle, “Make outs, blow jobs, heavy petting… whatever, I’m down with all of that, just no fucking. Deal?”

He holds out his hand and you take it, shaking it to make it official, “A woman confident in her sexuality. I love it.” He pecks you on the cheek before he starts to walk off, “It’ll be a pleasure doing business with you.” He calls.

“Same to you, Parker.” You smile, “Same to you.”

----------

You and Peter keep your newfound “romance” on the low for the next few days, as not to arouse any sudden suspicions. You continue to show up to Bucky’s class a half hour early (always making it in before Cher) and completely ignore him. You catch up on homework, you read, you paint your nails. Your nonchalant attitude towards him has continued to get under his skin, as his frustration and irritation has bled over into his lectures. Everyone picks up on his attitude, even Cher, now also receiving a cold shoulder from him in the mornings and afternoons. 

You and Peter decide to start your attack bright and early Monday morning. You meet up in the parking lot, hanging out next to his car, laughing and joking with a few of his baseball teammates. You walk in around seven fifty, twenty minutes after Bucky has been expecting you, hand in hand. Peter throws his arm over your shoulders, pulling you into his body as the two of you make your way through the halls. 

You pass by the open door of Bucky’s room and Peter stops purposefully in front of it as he calls for one of his friends down the hall. You glance into the room, but quickly cut your eyes away as you find Bucky and Cher gaping out at the two of you - Cher practically flipping over her desk she’s leaning so far forward. You and Peter push forward out of sight and you lean against the lockers, pulling him into you.

You kiss him hard, making him moan in surprise at first but he quickly follows suit. You smack your lips on his a few times before he pulls away, resting his forehead to yours as he drags his finger down your now swollen lips. The two of you whisper back and forth, smiling and giggling all the while before he leans into you again, capturing your lips. 

A throat clears loudly from beside the two of you, but you both ignore it, continuing to giggle and kiss as if you don’t hear a thing.

“Guys,” you hear Bucky sigh, “Break it up.”

“Oh, Mr. Barnes,” Peter laughs, wrapping his fingers around your neck softly - possessively, “Shit, man. Sorry about that. Didn’t even hear you, did you babe?”

You shake your head, “Nope. Sorry Bucky.” You peck Peter on his lips again before reaching up to wipe away the excess lip gloss you left behind, “You’ll walk me to my next class, yes?”

He winks at you before dipping back into you to kiss you once, twice, three more times, causing Bucky to speak up again.

“Guys, I mean it. You aren’t on a beach somewhere and you need to watch your mouth, Parker.” He sighs loudly, “Ms. Prescott, your seat please.”

You roll your eyes and push away from the lockers, you and Peter linking hands and extending your arms as you both walk in different directions.

“I’ll be right here after class babe.” He says, winking again.

“Ms. Prescott.” Bucky barks before pushing a hot breath out of his nose.

When your hands actually come undone, you wiggle your fingers at him before tossing your braids over your shoulder and push past the verklempt Bucky. You step past Cher, and she grabs your wrist, pulling you down into her.

“So you want my sloppy seconds all of a sudden?”

“Sloppy seconds?” You repeat, laughing lightly as you tilt your head, “Sweetie, it’s the restaurant metaphor all over again. Peter moved on from a bug infested pizza parlor to a clean five star restaurant. You’re still the sloppy one here.” You wink. 

You revel in Bucky’s anger for the entire hour. He continuously cuts his eyes towards you, now dark and brooding, but you smirk back and drop your eyes to your book, not giving him the satisfaction. Your legs stay crossed and your panties stay dry - much to his chagrin. Peter is right there by the door as soon as the bell rings. The two of you intertwine your fingers and swing them back and forth as you walk down the hall, two pairs of eyes on you all the while. 

“Mr. Barnes, I-”

“Not now, Cher.” Bucky bites back, running his hand through his hair again quickly before he damn near shoves her out of the classroom, slamming the door.

----------

You pull your next stunt in the library a few days later. It’s a study period, so there’s a few more teachers and students loitering around than usual - Bucky just happens to be one of the loiterers. Peter pulls you through the bookshelves by the tips of your fingers, finding the perfect position for the two of you to be aligned within Bucky’s eyesight. 

He’s perched at a table, his glasses low on his nose as he scribbles into his notebook before returning his gaze to the thick book just off to this left. Peter pushes you up against one of the bookshelves, jarring a few of the books loose from their spots and sending them crashing to the floor. You laugh, and Peter covers your mouth with his hand as he leans in and kisses your neck. His other hand snakes up between your thighs and pushes into your skirt, his fingertips brushing along your sex.

You push your chest into his and sink your teeth into your bottom lip as your hooded eyes flick towards Bucky. His jaw is tensed as he stares back at you. His lips are set in a hard, thin line, his face flushed red as his chest rises and falls harder than before. He falls back into his chair and crosses his arms over his chest, almost daring you to keep going - to keep pushing him. 

You dig one of your hands into Peter’s hair, pulling softly and hissing when his teeth sink into the fleshy crook of your neck. You push your hips into his fingers as he teases your clit with light, soft strokes. He licks a slow path up your neck and chin before he kisses you deeply and pulls you suddenly out of Bucky’s sight. 

“This is fun,” he laughs against your mouth, kissing you again as he squeezes your hip.

You giggle in return, tilting your head up towards the ceiling, silently asking him to continue. He obliges, and starts sucking on your skin again, pushing his hand back between your thighs. He slips his fingers underneath your panties and moans when the slickness of your sex coats his fingers. You let out a small moan as your hips move with his fingers. You grab his free hand and push it to your left breast, helping him to grab a handful of you. 

You gasp suddenly when Peter’s fingers push inside of you. You laugh again but spread your legs instinctively, raising one slightly to rub his calf. You feel him laugh against you as his fingers pump softly, his palm rubbing against your clit. 

“Fuck, Peter,” you say softly, pushing your body into his again as he finger fucks you up against the wall of books. 

You roll your head and jump when those familiar blue eyes are on you again, this time just on the other side of the bookshelf in front of you. Your mouth falls open as you stare back at him over the tops of the books. He slides a book off of the shelf, removing his eyes from yours to flip through the pages before he slides his angry eyes back to yours. He runs his eyes along Peter’s body, then halts at his hand as it pumps into you. 

You snarl your lip as a pang of excitement flashes through you. You’ve never been watched like this before - it’s kinda fun. You keep your eyes on Bucky’s as Peter’s hand quickens inside of you, his palm beating against your clit. You bite down into your bottom lip as you rest your chin on his shoulder, your head falling forward as your orgasm starts to build. 

“Shit,” you whine, your breath growing ragged as your hips pulse with the pace of his fingers. 

You lift your leg a little higher as the lust in your stomach starts to flood through your veins. You wrap your arms around his neck and ball his t-shirt into your hands, struggling to keep your eyes open as Bucky peers on. You watch as he runs his tongue over his teeth, blinking at you slowly, anger brimming just below his surface. He doesn’t shy away though, he doesn’t walk off, he doesn’t lash out, he just flips aimlessly through the random book he picked up as he watches as you come all over Peter’s fingers.

You slam your eyes shut at your orgasm rips through you. Peter moans as he slams his fingers into your wet, tight muscles. His free hand creeps back up to your face and covers your mouth, stifling the squeaks and squeals that dribble from your lips. Peter crushes you to the bookshelf with his weight, chuckling as he nips at your chin and neck. You keep your bottom lip between your teeth as you smirk at Bucky. You wanted a competition, now you got one. 

Peter pulls out his phone and lifts it into the air, hitting record as you still lean up against the bookshelf, still panting and giggly as your body floats on cloud nine. He smiles slowly into the camera, before leaning in and kissing you deeply, his tongue skimming along the roof of your mouth before it slides along yours. He situates your panties and skirt, like the gentleman he is, before he tugs at your wrist to pull you out from between the aisles. 

When he clears the bookshelves, he stops suddenly when he locks eyes with Bucky just on the other side. He nods his head towards him, before shoving his wet fingers into his mouth. He licks them clean before he pulls them out with a soft pop and  glances back into his camera, throwing a wink it’s way. The two of you waltz out of the library, smiles on both of your faces. You hear Peter’s phone as it starts to sound, ding after ding after ding as a quick flurry of text messages slide through. 

He pulls it out and snorts before he tilts it towards you, Cher’s name flashing across it as a call comes through.

“This is going tremendously.” He smiles, declining the call and sliding the sleek phone back into his pocket.

----------

You glance down at your watch as you whistle slowly; 8:06am. You’re now officially late to Bucky’s class, and officially late for the first time in over four years. You turn down his hallway, scrolling through your tumblr as you come to his closed door. You push through and feel the eyes of the entire class on you as you waltz in without a care in the world. Bucky’s lecture comes to a halt as he slides his eyes with you as you pick your way through the seats to find yours.

You sit, taking your time as you pull out your notebook and pen while everyone watches, just as surprised as Bucky that you’re late. You take a deep breath and expel it calmly as you finally glance up at him.

“Good morning.” You say cheerfully. 

He crosses his arms over his chest and licks his lips slowly, “You’re late.”

“Oh,” you sigh a little, glancing at your watch, “Sorry about that.”

“We had a deal at the beginning of the semester.” He says, his voice deep.

You cross your legs and swing your foot lightly, “Did we?”

He narrows his eyes at you as he pulls his glasses off of his face, “Should I remind you?”

“Please.” You nod, “It’s slipped my mind.”

He nods slowly, starting to pace, “You wanted me to hold you personally responsible if you were ever late.”

You squint your eyes as you tilt your chin towards the ceiling, pretending to rack your brain, “That’s right, I did. That little check mark next to my name on the attendance sheet is gonna hurt.”

“Oh no,” He chuckles as you challenge him so openly, “You wanted to be held responsible. A little check mark isn’t going to do that.”

You smirk, “So what’ll it be, Bucky?”

“Detention.”

Your face drops. Detention? Detention? For one fucking tardy?! “Detention?” you repeat, sitting up a little straighter in your seat, “That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?”

He turns back to face you, leaning back on his desk as he kicks his legs out in front of him. He shrugs, shaking his head, “You asked for it.”

“You’re joking,” you laugh, your mind starting to race, “A detention for being late one time? Have you handed out a detention to anyone else?”

He shrugs, “Nope. But you’re not everyone else, are you?”

You squint your eyes at him as he smirks back. This is the only way he could get back at you - to tarnish your perfect record. Your body flushes with heat - you honestly didn’t expect this. This… this is below the belt. You’d figured that he’s been so out of sorts that he’d just slap you on the wrist and beg to see him after class. You’d trade barbs back and forth, he’d eat your pussy and the two of you would be right back on track, like this never happened. But this?

“I’m getting you ready for real life. That’s what you wanted me to do, isn’t it?”

A chorus of oooh’s ring out from the rest of the class as you throw your braids over your shoulder angrily, “I have a riding lesson at three twenty five today.”

“I’ll talk to T’Challa if you’d like me to.”

You laugh sarcastically, “This is ridiculous. This’ll go on my record, you realize that?”

He shrugs again as he pushes away from his desk, “Maybe you should have thought about that. Now,” he smiles, turning his attention back to the rest of the class,  “Where were we?”

He completely turns the tables on you after that. He ignores you for the rest of his lecture. His mood lightens considerably. He cracks jokes, he banters with other classmates as you stew in your anger. When class is over, he holds out your detention slip between his fingers, which you snatch and crumple up in your hand as you pass by without so much as a glance in his direction. 

Asshole.

The final bell of the day rings hours later and you start the trek towards Dr. Banner’s room, the resident detention monitor. He’s surprised to see you and gives you a reassuring smile as you head to the back of the room, plopping down in one of the desks. You catch Mitchell Bryant, the fifth year senior and fuck up extraordinaire, smirking at you and roll your eyes deeply before shifting in your seat to block him from your line of vision. 

You busy yourself with your trigonometry homework, actually getting into it within a few minutes. The door opens and you flip your eyes towards it, doing a double take when you spot Bucky walking in. He smiles at Dr. Banner, leaning into his desk and muttering something before he heads back to the door. 

“Ms. Prescott?” He calls,  “Grab your stuff and come with me please.”

You cock your head as your eyes instantly narrow at him. You take a deep breath, but stand and collect your things. You walk out into the hallway, finding him waiting for you, “Yes?” you ask, your tone flat and irritated.

He doesn’t answer, he just points forward and waits for you to start walking. You roll your eyes but ultimately obey, your feet carrying you back to his classroom. He enters a few steps behind you, closing the door softly before he flips the lock. 

You spin on your heel to face him as your bag hangs off of your shoulder, “What is it, Bucky?”

“Drop your bag. Put your hands flat on the desk.”

His voice is deep and eerily calm. Your lips part and your eyes widen a little as you stand in your spot. He cocks his head when you still don’t move, “Did you not hear what I said? Hands flat on the desk. Now.”

You drop your bag from your shoulder and move to his desk, flattening your palms on the top of it. You’ve never heard him like this before - so stern. You swallow hard as your eyes dart around the chalkboard in front of you. You feel his presence behind you, hearing the material of his tie rubbing against his shirt as he loosens it, before pulling it from around his neck. 

You jump when he slaps lightly at the insides of your thighs, “Open sesame.”

You spread your legs wider as his fingertips brush along your soft skin. His hand slides up your spine slowly and pushes you forward until your chest is resting flush against his desk. Your breath becomes audible as he pushes his hips into your ass, making you gasp when you feel his hard on pressing into your flesh. 

He grabs your right wrist, bending your arm to place your hand in the small of your back before he reaches for the left. You then feel the soft silk of his tie as it wraps around your wrists, looping around them both before he ties it tightly into a nice, firm knot. Without warning, he bucks into your ass, jolting you forward as you gasp loudly again. 

“You are one smart cookie, Ms. Prescott.” He says softly, running his hands along your hips and ass, “I underestimated you.”

“Mental warfare is my specialty.”

You bite your lip as your body starts to warm from his touch. A moan escapes you as he rucks your skirt up around your hips and groans at the sight of your sheer, pink panties. You close your eyes as his fingers dance along your plump ass, cupping it in both of his large palms and jiggling it gently.

“Nervous?”

You shake your head definitely, “Of course not.”

“Never one to show weakness, huh? I like that.”

You let out a sharp scream when a hard slap is suddenly leveled to your behind. Your body tightens as you pull against the tie wrapped around your wrists. He spanks you twice again in quick succession and you slam your eyes closed as you squeal and squirm underneath him. He pushes his hand back between your legs, his fingers brushing along the sudden, new wet spot on your panties. Goddamn him.

“I’ve gotta give it to you, Prescott,” he says softly as his fingers push underneath your panties and slip through your wet folds, “You had me going. I was jealous.”

You hiss as you roll your hips into his hand, “I told you Bucky - “

He spanks you again, the sound of his flesh meeting yours bouncing off of the chalkboard, “That’s not my name.”

“Fuck!” You mewl as the sting radiates through you, but you don’t give in. Not quite yet.

“What were you saying, darling?” He coos as his fingers travel to your hips and dig underneath the thin band of your panties.

He pulls them down slowly, slipping them over your feet. You hear him inhale deeply seconds later before his fingers slip through your folds again. Your mouth drops open as he plays with your clit, drawing slow circles around it before he pushes two of his thick fingers into you. His thumb pushes between your ass cheeks and flattens against your tight hole, applying a slight pressure as he starts to pump his fingers slowly. 

“Did you have fun with the young Peter Parker?” He asks, pushing his hips flush to your behind, “Hmm? Did he make you feel good?”

You whimper as his fingers curl inside of you, his thumb pushing just inside. When you don’t answer fast enough, he spanks you again, making you squeal loudly. He pushes his thumb further and you squeeze your muscles as tight as you can as you tilt your head towards the ceiling, relishing in the electricity bouncing through you. His fingers push deeper in your pussy and you growl as you run your tongue over your teeth. 

“Yes.” You hiss, the smart ass in you still winning out, “You were there, Bucky. You saw how good he made me feel.”

He chuckles deeply, removing his fingers from you before he pulls you up into a standing position. He turns you around  to face him and picks you up, sitting you gently on top of his desk. He stays nose to nose with you, his eyes bouncing around your face as he smirks. He lifts his fingers to your mouth, smoothing your wetness over your bottom lip. 

You lick your lip slowly before you suck it into your mouth, blinking up at him slowly as you swallow your taste. He kisses you hard, wrapping his hands around your neck and pulling you into him as his tongue bursts into your mouth. You moan, letting your head fall back into his hands as you accept him, sucking on his tongue as you pull lightly against the tie still around your wrists. 

He pulls back slowly, pulling your bottom lip with him before he lets go. He tilts his head as his fingers drop to the buttons on your shirt, popping them one by one until it falls open. He flips his eyes back to yours as he starts undoing his pants, letting them slightly  fall down his hips. You bite your lip as you watch him push his hand into his black boxer briefs, stroking himself. He pulls his dick free and you inhale deeply, your eyes growing wide as he springs out from behind the stretchy material. 

“That little prick couldn’t satisfy you.” He says quietly, “Not like I can, baby girl. I’m a grown man.”

Your mouth falls open as he pushes the tip of his dick along your throbbing clit and through your folds. He pushes your legs open wider, wrapping your right limb around his hip. He pushes at your slit, positioning himself right at your opening. 

“What’s my name baby?”

You bite your bottom lip again as your lips start to curl into a smile. You bat your eyes at him but shake your head - not giving an inch. 

He smiles back at you, “You are stubborn as all fucking hell.”

“You started it.”

“I suppose I did,” He laughs, leaning in to kiss you softly, “You’re my perfect little princess.” He says, “You always were, you always will be.”

“And?”

“I’m sorry,” he says, cupping your face in his hands, “Don’t be mad at me anymore.”

You breathe in confidently, pushing it out of your nose as pride swells in your chest. You never cave. You never lose, “Apology accepted.”

“Good. Can I fuck you now?”

You nod slowly, “Of course you can, Mr. Barnes.”

He bites your lips and growls at the sound of his name tripping off your tongue with such ease. He grabs his shaft, slipping the head of his cock through your folds again before he stops at your slit. He wraps his other arm around your waist and starts to push slowly, breaking into your tight canal. You squeak as your muscles spread for his flesh for the first time, hissing as a delicious pain courses through you. 

His mouth drops open as he watches you swallow him. He pushes a focused breath out of his mouth as he pushes until he completely disappears inside of you. A tear slips down your cheek as he pulls out and slides back in. You dig your nails into his desk as you adjust your hips - the pain and the pleasure of it all mixing and melting together into a perfect harmony. 

You moan loudly as he fucks you nice and slow. He pushes his fingers to your clit and rubs quick circles against it as he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, his eyes hooded as he watches you squirm and writhe.

“This is what a real man feels like,” he says softly, digging his fingertips into your hip as he fucks you, “Do I feel good, baby?”

“Yes,” you answer breathlessly, tears streaming down your face, “You feel so good.”

“Mmm,” he grunts, “You are such a good girl. You’re taking me so well.”

Your head swims as he praises you, stroking your ego, making you clench around him. His hips start to move faster as his hands run up and down your thighs, gripping and kneading your flesh. His fingers roam up to your breasts, pushing into your bra to tease your thick nipples, adding a new sensation to the mix. He drops his right hand back between your legs, pressing the pads of his fingers against your clit and starts to rub again, his other fingers still pulling and flicking at your aroused buds. 

Your hips jerk without warning, pushing his cock into you deeper, pulling a guttural scream out of you. Your eyes continue to leak as your head spins and your body tightens and flexes. A shutter runs up your spine, your thighs shake. You tighten them around his waist and try to grip the desk below you as a dull ache sits in the pit of your stomach. 

He fucks into you faster - recognizing that you’re starting to come undone as he overloads your senses. He rolls your nipple between his fingers, pinching and pulling as he continues to rub your clit and pump his hips into yours.

“You gonna come for me?” He starts to coax softly, “Hmm? Is my girl gonna come?”

My girl. Your brain can’t even form a coherent sentence. You’re nothing but sensation as he pushes you right to the edge of the cliff. His strokes get harder, his fingers faster as he rests his forehead to yours. He leaves your nipple to wrap his hand around your throat. His hot breath washes over your face as he kisses you quickly.

“I want my girl to come. Come for me, baby. Give it to me, I want to own you.”

You grunt as your eyes start to roll. He fucks into you as your toes curl with each of his strokes, pushing, pushing, pushing, until he tips you right over the edge. You mewl into the empty room as your orgasm floods through every vein, every muscle, every sensor in your body. He loses his control - pounding into you as hard as he can as your pussy quivers around him.

Your clit jumps with contractions as you tighten your legs around his hips. He coaxes you on, whispering sweet nothings as wave after wave crashes against you. His grunts grow louder and more erratic, his hips faltering every now and again until you feel a sudden warmth burst into you. He hisses as he spurts long, hot ribbons into your cunt over and over again. 

He nearly collapses - having to slam his palm to the top of his desk to hold himself up. His breaths are deep and ragged as his head falls to your shoulder. He leans back after a minute and tilts his head towards the ceiling as he focuses on his breathing, pushing them in and out slow and evenly. 

“Fuck,” he lets out as a laugh rumbles through his chest, “Goddamn.”

He reaches around and unties your wrists before pulling you up into his arms. You throw your arms around his neck and let him wrap your legs around his waist as he walks you around his desk and sits in his chair. He curls you into him, wrapping you up in his warm arms before he sweeps your braids over your shoulder. He kisses your forehead and the top of your head as he strokes your spine gently. 

“You are so pretty when you cry.” He says gently, smiling at you, “My perfect little girl.”

You still can’t talk. You just smile as you nuzzle into him, blinking down at your thighs, a small amount of blood splashed on your skin.

“Can you cancel your riding lessons tomorrow and Sunday?” he asks after a few minutes.

You nod slowly, “Why?”

“I want you all to myself.” He says, pushing his knuckle into your chin to tilt your head up towards his, “I want you to pack a bag for the weekend. I’ll text you my address, okay?”

“Okay.” You say simply. 

“Okay.” He smiles, kissing you again, “Come on, let's get moving.”

You reluctantly climb out of his lap and start to arrange your clothing properly, buttoning up your shirt and smoothing your skirt back down on your hips. Your legs are shaky, your pussy and clit sore, but you’ve never felt better. He grabs your bag and places it on your shoulder as the two of you move to the door. When he opens it, the two of you come face to face with one Cher Goodwin, her hand still in the air as she was just about to knock.

Her lips part as she stares at you, before flicking her eyes towards Bucky, “I thought you had detention.”

You shrug, “You thought wrong.”

She slides her eyes down your frame, squinting as she looks you over. Her face drops as the realization floods through her. Your smile widens. She doesn’t even have to ask.  She runs her hand through her hair roughly as she takes a deep breath, letting the dread of knowing she’s lost again flush through her. She’s come up just short - second place, once again. 

“Cher,” Mr. Barnes starts, “I’m sorry. Something came up, I’m not gonna be able to stick around this afternoon.”

She scoffs, clicking her teeth as she crosses her arms over her chest, “Mr. Barnes, I - “

“I’m sorry,” he cuts her off, “You know, I can get you a couple of names of some really great tutors that can give you all the attention you need. Okay?”

She runs her tongue over her teeth as she stares off into the distance, laughing slightly, “Sure, yeah. Whatever.” 

Bucky pushes past her and out into the hallway, “I’ll have them for you Monday morning, okay? I’m sorry ladies, I gotta split. Have a good weekend. Thanks for all your help Ms. Prescott.”

You smile at her as he moves down the hallway, “Oh, Cher.” You laugh, “Poor thing.”

“I’ll fucking get you.” She sneers, “One of these goddamn days, I will win! I will fucking beat you!” You shouts, stomping her foot.

You nudge her chin with your fist, “It’s cute you still believe that. The only thing you’ll ever have over me, is knowing how second place feels.” You brush past her shoulder as a frustrated tear slips down her cheek.

“Oh,” you say happily, turning back on your heel to face her, “I forgot to tell you. T’Challa signed Apollo and I up for the relay competition on Wednesday. You’re participating in that too, right?” You wink, watching as her eyes fill with dread, “See you there.”

You throw your hand into the air as you walk away from her, wiggling your fingers, “Tootles, darling.”

[2manyfandoms2count]

I love you (not) - Chapter 4

Slightly late for @marichatmay day 4, yesterday was kind of a long day and this chapter just kept getting longer. Oops. Ft. real cats, and a nod to Star Wars day (belated May the Fourth be with you). Enjoy!

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Chapter 4: In which the flirting continues and an attempt to break up is thwarted. Again.

Marinette almost turned around the moment she saw Chat Noir standing next to the café, looking at the cats on the other side of the window.

Well, had it just been her partner, she would have walked straight up to him without a second thought, and diligently sat through their date, only to apologise at the end of it, saying that she’d fallen in love with an image, and that she didn’t think they belonged together.

What (for ‘who’ was a little presumptuous a pronoun) stood in front of her was a figure in a cardboard rendering of Chat Noir’s suit, complete with paper bell, tail, and cardboard baton. She would have forgiven its use as a disguise, even though the details kind of defeated the purpose, had the reflection of the headpiece’s eye hole not revealed that he was actually transformed underneath.

Nope , she thought at the sight. Can’t do this, nope, nope, nop-

“Marinette!” Chat Noir spotted her just as she was about to leave, and started enthusiastically waving at her.

She plastered a smile on her face, and clutched her purse as she made her way towards him. Kwami, give me strength . She wondered if ridicule was a good enough excuse to break up with someone. It wasn’t very nice, but she was getting desperate for an excuse.

“Cardboard Noir, I presume?” Her voice had an exasperated edge to it, which Chat didn’t pick up on.

“The one and only!” He twirled around to give her the full 360° view of the costume. She could tell that he was grinning under the helmet.

“To what do I owe the… pleasure?”

“Anonymity, obviously.” He rolled his eyes. “Wouldn’t want this date to finish in the tabloids, am I right?”

Sure, because somebody in a piece of cardboard is so much more inconspicuous than somebody who might be wearing a Chat Noir cosplay in a cat café , she rolled her eyes as she saw people passing by and doing double takes as they walked past him, but kept her point to herself.

“How... thoughtful of you.” She smiled slightly tensely.

“Isn’t it?” Chat Noir extended his kraft paper-covered arm and she took it awkwardly for the couple of steps that separated them from the café’s door.

Chat hurried forward to open the door for her. “After you, my… Princess.” He bowed.

She bit back a smug smile as the bells jingled above her head. The nickname "my Lady" would totally have been justified in this situation, yet he’d refrained from using it. She deduced that it must be too attached to Ladybug; maybe there was hope that he still had a crush on her alter ego. She could work with that.

She walked into the shop, and almost tripped on an orange tabby cat who’d apparently been making the most of the sunspot on the other side of the door. It looked up at her indignantly even as she petted him to apologise, but didn’t move.

Behind her, a grey sphynx tried to make a run for it, but Chat picked it up and closed the door before he could cross the threshold.

“Hi there! Welcome to the C afé des Chats . How can I help you today?” A woman emerged from the back room, wiping her hands on her cat-themed apron. Her name, Cathy, was embroidered on it.

“Hello! Could we get a table for two, please?” Marinette smiled.

“Of course! Pick a spot!”

Marinette looked around the room. Apart from a small group of friends sitting near the window, and who were too engrossed in laughing and taking pictures of the cats to acknowledge their presence, all the seats were empty.

“How about that table over there?” Chat leaned towards her ear and pointed towards a cozy booth at the back of the room. She jumped slightly at the sudden proximity. He didn’t notice, as the cat in his arms started meowing, and Cathy came out from behind the counter to take it in her arms.

“Oh, let me take Yoda off your hands. Did he try running away again?” She cradled him, the cat purring as she did.

“Yes, I feel like he might take after his namesake and like the outdoors more.” Chat joked.

“Maybe I should have picked another name for him, then. It would save me a lot of time looking for him around the neighborhood.” Cathy laughed. “I’ll let you two get installed, I’ll be right with you.”

The pair made their way towards their table, Chat letting Marinette take the couch while he pulled out the chair facing her. He sat on the very edge of his seat, the cardboard taking up most of the space. They both picked up the menu, and ordered their drinks (and a lightsaber-themed pistachio éclair for Chat), when Cathy came around.

Marinette tapped her fingers together as they waited, trying to find a conversation topic. She decided to acknowledge the smaller elephant in the room.

“You know, I think we’re okay now, you can take off your costume.” Marinette pointed out. He looked like he could fall off his chair at any moment.

“Are you ashamed of me?” His hand flew to his chest, almost knocking his paper bell off.

“Me? Never!” she scoffed.

“Good, because this isn’t coming off anytime soon.” Chat Noir crossed his arms over his chest. She could tell he was smirking under his headpiece.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that…” It was Marinette’s turn to smirk, as Cathy arrived and put down two cups of hot chocolate, and Chat’s pâtisserie, in front of them.

“Is that a challenge?” Chat’s eyebrow shot up, and he turned towards Cathy. “Excuse me, Ma’am, would you happen to have a straw I could use?”

The lady blinked at him a couple of times, perplexed, before realising he was serious. “I probably do, let me go check in the pantry.”

“You’re not seriously doing this.” Marinette facepalmed.

“I’m just showing the one thing you should know about me if you want to date me; I don’t back down from challenges.” He thanked Cathy, who’d returned, and started poking a hole in his headset.

Trust me, I know that , Marinette sighed. “I take it back. It’s not a challenge. Just take your… mask off, and enjoy your order. Please?”

Chat Noir squinted at her suspiciously. “You pawmise that you’re fine with this?”

“Absolutely. I just want you to be more comfortable.”

“Fine.” He took off his headpiece, making his hair stick up from static electricity.

Marinette stifled a giggle.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she cleared her throat, pulled her phone out and snapped a picture, before showing the screen to him. “I just like what you did to your hair.”

“Ah, yes. Beautiful,” her partner laughed. “I wonder what Gabriel Agreste would think about it.”

“I actually think he’d love it. It kind of looks like his haircut.” Marinette snorted.

“Yeah, that won’t do.” Some colour drained from his cheeks as he shook his head and tried to flatten his hair. The real bell under his costume jingled as he did so.

Marinette was about to ask why he seemed so upset about the comparison when a black cat jumped up on their table, looking at Chat’s éclair with interest.

“Hey, Chat Noir? Looks like you have some competition for your tea…” She took a sip of her hot chocolate and sighed happily as the rich aroma hit her taste buds.

“What?” He stopped wiggling around, his hair having regained its normal appearance. “Oh. No, no, kitty, this isn’t for you.” He slid the plate away from it. The cat tilted its head and meowed. “Being all cute won’t work on me, I’m cuter. Meow .”

“Hmm, I’m not sure about that.” Marinette stroked the cat’s head, making it walk towards her and purr. “This one is pretty adorable. Pincushion,” she read off its tag. “How original.”

“You’re not even saying it’s a claw-se call? You wound me, Marinette.” Chat gasped, before taking a bite of his éclair. “You know, I’m not sure I could be with someone who doesn’t think I’m cute.”

Marinette rolled her eyes affectionately. “Kitty, I think you know very well what I think,” she replied, putting a hand over his on the table. He gulped down the rest of his éclair, and stared into her eyes.

Pincushion meowed again after what she knew was too long for friends to gaze at each other, and Marinette jolted, feeling herself blush. Why had she done that? She should have just gone with it, it would have made everything easier. You know, Chat Noir, I definitely don’t think you’re cute. Let’s get the bill and be on our way…

Chat Noir cleared his throat, and waved towards Cathy. “Well, this was nice, but it’s getting a little late, isn’t it? Could I have the bill, please?”

“Yes, you’re right, we should probably get going… Wait a second, what do you mean could I have the bill? We’re splitting this.”

“No we’re not. I ordered the most.” Chat shot her a pointed look.

“Fine, then let me pay for my own drink, then.”

“Meow way! I invited you! I meant it when I said my treat!”

“Yes, but…” Marinette scrambled for an excuse, cursing her brain which had decided to notice that Chat’s cheeks seemed quite pink, and that she thought it looked good on him, especially combined to his slightly dishevelled hair.

“I’ll tell you what; if you really think I don’t owe you anything, then just consider this an advance for my birthday. You can pay me back in macarons.” Chat’s eyes lit up hungrily as he interrupted her.

“Your birthday?” Marinette tilted her head quizzically. “Is that soon?”

Chat froze in his seat. Ladybug had warned him about this. They weren’t supposed to share anything about their personal lives, with anyone. Just in case it landed in the wrong ears.

Besides, his birthday wasn’t until September. Which, since he’d invited her on this date, she could interpret as him thinking their relationship would last that long. Which he really hoped it wouldn’t (the romantic one, that is - he still wanted to be friends with Marinette behind the mask).

“Erm, yeah, it’s… Next week?” He scratched the back of his neck nervously. That seemed alright in terms of timeline.

“So soon…” Marinette trailed off, looking at the empty cup before her. Her partner’s birthday seemed like something she should know, yet as much as she raked her brain, she couldn’t recall a single conversation they’d had on the topic. “Does Ladybug know?”

“Oh, no. I wouldn’t want her to make a fuss.” He waved her concern away, and swiftly stole the credit card machine from Cathy as she returned with it. He tapped his card on it, looking Marinette straight in the eye as he did.

“Chat Noir!” She cried out indignantly. She’d been too engrossed in the consideration that she couldn’t decently break up with him now when his birthday was just around the corner, to anticipate his next move.

“Sorry, Princess.” He smiled smugly as he thanked the café owner and took his receipt. “In my defence, it makes me feel better about eating so much when I came over to your place for lunch, when I’d only brought a flower as a present.”

Marinette held his gaze for a bit, and, seeing his earnestness, she sighed. “Fine.”

“Thank you.” He nodded, and then turned towards Cathy, who was awkwardly shuffling next to their table.

“Is everything alright, Ma’am?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t want to intrude, but… are you really Chat Noir?” She asked hopefully.

“See, the costume is inconspicuous!” Chat Noir exclaimed, sticking his tongue out at Marinette. “I mean, yes, I am.”

“I’d totally understand if you said no, but would you mind taking a picture with some of the cats? I’m happy to keep it to myself, and not put it up with the other cat pictures if you’d prefer, it’s just that I’m such a huge fan…”

“I’d love to!” Chat Noir jumped to his feet and started peeling his disguise off. “Would it be okay if my… Marinette was in the picture with me?” He winced at the formulation of his question. He wasn’t sure if it was worse than if he’d called her his girlfriend.

“Yes, of course! Here, let me grab Yoda, and maybe Pincushion and…”

Marinette didn’t have time to explore the warm feeling Chat calling her “his” Marinette, in a very excited and pure way, had elicited in her chest, as Cathy shoved a cat in her arms and pushed Chat next to her on the couch. She grinned for the photographer, feeling a blush creep up her cheeks.

“Purr-fect!” Chat beamed as Cathy showed them the picture.

She melted a little at how happy he looked, chatting away to figure out a way to get a copy of the picture. I can’t hurt him, not now , she thought as she nodded along and gave her number to Cathy so she could send her the shot.

What she could do, though, was try to figure out a birthday present for him. Something useful, that he’d be able to keep when she broke up with him after they broke up, probably a week after she gave it to him.

She thought about it all the way Home.

[gumnut-logic]

Two Birds with One Stone (Bit 6 and The End)

Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 | Bit 4 | Bit 5 | Bit 6

I finished it! Yay! Still @godsliltippy​ ‘s fault. I’m just happy to have this one off my plate because yesterday I wrote 2000 words of a new fic! I’m incurable, I have to say ::headdesk:: Like I have so many waiting to be finished ::wails::

But lookie! I finished one ::distracts all with this single finished fic waving it around with glee::

Many thank to @tsarinatorment​ @scribbles97​ and @janetm74​ for all their support through this fic and of course to Tippy for sparking it in the first place with this glorious piece of art!

I can actually archive something cos it is finished! Yay!

I hope you enjoy it...cos it is finished! It’s a miracle!

-o-o-o-

“A combine harvester?!”

“Totally cool sounding, don’t you think? I’m adding it to my list.”

Virgil stared at his brother. “You have a list? Of what?”

“Dramatic stuff. Near misses. Things worth bragging about at the bar.”

Virgil blinked, fortunately with both eyes this time, since the swelling was starting to go down.

He was sitting up in bed, surrounded by flowers. Grandma had gone all out this time with two boys in the hospital. Fortunately, they wouldn’t be in much longer.

Alan had dragged in one of Virgil’s sketchbooks and to Virgil’s surprise, he had found the energy to draw for a little while, though his head wouldn’t take much.

And his head was more than one problem.

He was missing half his hair.

And he looked stupid.

Worse, there was a jagged slice in his scalp where apparently a piece of that combine harvester had made it through his helmet and nearly sliced him in half.

The thought was downright alarming and he shunted it to the back of his mind with not a little terror.

He would examine it later.

Later.

But the problem at the moment, apart from the bandages that conveniently hid the issue temporarily, he only had half a head of hair and it looked stupid.

He had to appreciate that Gordon hadn’t laughed. In fact, none of his brothers had laughed at him. He couldn’t fault them for that.

Though there was a sparkle in Gordon’s eye that foretold at least one comment in the future, even if it was fond and caring.

Besides…

He kept waking up to find Gordon sitting on the end of his bed.

It was done with nonchalance and a smile, but Virgil was beginning to suspect an underlying cause. Not that he couldn’t acknowledge that he was happy to see his little brother and sharing a room with him in hospital was actually a boon to the medical process, but honestly, Virgil was beginning to worry.

“Don’t you have a list?”

Of course, a fish without a pond tended to be a bored fish.

“No, not really.”

“You don’t count successful rescues?”

“John and Scott keep records. I don’t like to dwell.”

His little brother shrugged. “I get that.”

There was silence for a while and Virgil let himself settle back into his pillow. Dosing was a rare pleasure.

“So, you don’t take advantage of being a hero even a tiny bit?”

Virgil blinked and frowned. “What?”

Gordon rolled over holding his injured arm and settled so he could see Virgil clearly. “You know, leverage a little heroism to start a conversation? Get one up on the stiffs at parties?”

He stared at his brother. “Are you having trouble at Penny’s charity functions?”

“Nooo.”

Okay, that meant yes. “You should talk to her, Gords.” He shrugged. “Need a wingman? I could come with.” Though he had to admit, he could see where Gordon was coming from. Some of those attendees were definitely stiffs who had never lifted a finger to help anyone but themselves in their entire lives.

“I can handle it.”

Okay, Virgil was definitely filching an invite to the next one. Could even drag in Scott. Big bro would torch the social scene. He wasn’t a fan, but he could play...to every other man’s detriment.

Or Virgil could ask John. Having a genius brother in orbit who had a daughter who had been told off several times already for influencing the stock market was an advantage.

“Virgil, stop the plotting. It is fine. I’ve got this. I just flex a little muscle, mention a few scars and spin a few tales. Joe WallStreet, or whatever they call it in London, doesn’t stand a chance.”

He eyed his brother. The urge to step in was strong.

Gordon smirked. “It is fine. Besides, you won’t be going anywhere anytime soon with that hairstyle.”

It was an obvious subject change, but it still earned Gordon a blistering glare. “Shut up.”

A snort and Gordon capitulated. “Don’t worry, bro, it’s cool. Shave the other side, get yourself some tatts and no one will ever question you on a rescue ever again.” The second snort was almost a giggle.

If only he could reach Gordon, clap him up the head.

There must have been something in his expression because Gordon burst out laughing, rolling on the bed, holding his arm to his side.

“You’re an ass.”

“And you, my dear artist bro, are entertaining.”

“Shove it.”

But at least Gordon was smiling.

Virgil would take that any day.

-o-o-o-

Gordon was up and about long before Virgil and took to disappearing from time to time into the depths of the hospital, often with one brother or the other and on several occasions, with Penelope.

Virgil didn’t get out much. He still had headaches and occasional dizzy spells, a lead on from a massive concussion and was the reason why they were still in hospital. Virgil had no doubt Gordon could probably have gone home, but was hanging about just because Virgil couldn’t.

If it pinned Gordon under medical observation and not in the ocean after such a serious injury, Virgil wasn’t going to argue. But it was frustrating that he himself wasn’t very mobile and he was sick of staring at the ceiling tiles.

They always bugged him as his artistic brain always constructed designs out of them and they always lacked symmetry.

Grandma, Alan, John, Scott and even Kayo were regular visitors. The Tracy clan had parked themselves in a nearby hotel, no doubt fueling both news agencies and the local economy.

Virgil just wanted to go home.

And Scott was out of sorts.

Scott was always out of sorts when a member of the family was injured, but this was different. And it was bugging Virgil.

Between his own injuries and the inability to pin his brother down due to interruptions and the lack of alone time, whatever it was that was bugging Scott was festering.

Topeka hospital was a familiar place to all of them. It had been their local major hospital for much of their formative years and considering the tornado seasons and IR responses, a regular delivery point for rescuees. There was a rooftop garden that had been sat in on several occasions in the past and it was with some conniving that Virgil spoke to Kayo to arrange for a corner of it to be secured so Virgil could go and sit up there for a bit of fresh air and privacy with his big brother.

He had no doubt that Scott knew he was being railroaded, but the lack of protest just emphasised how troubled his big brother was.

The sounds of the city below were no longer familiar and Virgil found himself longing for the ocean and the quiet of Tracy Island. It was evening, the sun having just set and the sky was a welcome sight after being confined to ceiling tiles for a few days, but the stars were dim, hidden by light pollution and a touch of smog.

It made him even more homesick.

“You okay, Virg?”

Scott had pushed him up here in a hoverchair. Virgil still needed it due to the dizzy spells and it ticked him off to no end. “Just homesick.”

Hi brother sighed. “Won’t be long. A couple of days and I’ll take you down to the beach and you can lay on the sand and stare at the stars to your heart’s content.”

Virgil shot him a glare. “I’m not John.”

“But you miss the stars anyway.”

Virgil grumbled. “I’m just used to seeing them.” He waved at hand at the sky. “It’s not the same.”

“Uh huh.” Scott was smiling in that condescending big brother knows better way he was so good at.

“Shut up.”

Scott didn’t stop grinning, he just dragged the ‘chair backwards until it nestled beside a park bench and then sat himself down beside Virgil.

They sat in silence for a while and Virgil let the soundscape seep into him. It was quieter up here than inside the hospital. There was a breeze with the scent of farmland under that pervasive smell of the city and cooling concrete. The breeze spoke of a possible storm in the distance. Virgil hoped it wasn’t a supercell. He had had enough of tornadoes for some time.

He missed the scent of the sea.

A sigh. He was being pathetic and falling into the doldrums over nothing. He was getting better. He would be home soon.

And screw it, he would plant his butt on a beach and drag Scott with him just to piss him off.

“You okay?”

Huh? Scott was peering at him, that worry ever persistent in the darkness of his eyes.

“It is you who I’m worried about.” So, it was defensive, big deal. Needed to start the conversation somehow.

“Me? I’m not the one who took on a combine harvester and nearly lost.”

“It wasn’t exactly a choice, you know.”

“I know.” It was quiet and Virgil knew he had hit the nail on the head.

“Talk to me, Scott.”

“About what?”

Virgil flat-eyed glared at him. “About whatever has been bugging you the last few days.”

“I would have thought that was obvious with two brothers in the hospital.” Definitely defensive.

“No. This is more.”

“What? There are degrees? I don’t need analysis, Virg.”

Virgil pressed his lips together. “You’re hurting. You’re not talking. What other recourse do I have?”

“Do you need one?”

“Of course, I do! You’re you! Whatever this is, it’s weighing on you and I hate to see you in pain.”

“I’m not in pain. It’s you who was injured.”

“If you’re trying to tell me that doesn’t affect you, you’re either lying through your teeth or I should be even more worried because you’ve obviously suffered brain damage of some kind and are no longer the Scott Tracy I know. Perhaps I should check you for a holographic disguise.”

Scott let out an annoyed scoff and shot to his feet, his actions agitated. “Virg, it’s nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

“Goddamnit, Virgil-“

“Talk to me!” And yelling apparently hurt his head, because it throbbed in protest. He grit his teeth and glared up at his brother. Please, Scott, for both our sakes.

“It was close, okay? Too damned close.”

Virgil swallowed. He knew that. “Not the first time.”

“So, I should be used to it by now?” Despite the darkness, Scott was lit up with internal fire.

“No.”

But he had finally triggered the avalanche and Scott spilled it all over him.

“Do you have any idea how close this was? Millimetres and you wouldn’t be here anymore, Virg.”

“Again, not the first time.”

“But it was so senseless!” Scott’s hands shot out palm up, desperate for understanding. “You weren’t even in the middle of a rescue. The sky just opened up, stabbed down a twister and threw a chunk of farm machinery at you. It lasted mere seconds and it nearly took both of you. Why? If you had landed a few metres further away, if you had been a few seconds later in arrival, hell, the margin for error was astronomical, yet, it still happened. I nearly lost you and Gordy for no damned reason whatsoever!”

“You need a reason?”

“Goddamned, I do! If I’m going to lose a brother, at least it should be for a reason. A sacrifice made for the good of all.”

“You know it doesn’t work that way.” Virgil’s heart was thudding in his chest.

“Well, it should. We do so much, sacrifice so much already, I don’t think it is too much to ask. We’ve already lost...” Scott shoved his face into his hands and parked himself back on the park bench. “Why the hell do you ask me these things?”

Ever so quiet. “Because they need to be asked.”

“I hate it.”

“I know.”

“I nearly lost you for nothing.”

“We were there for a reason. We both went in knowing the danger, you know that.”

“Doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

“I’d be worried if it did.” Virgil sighed. “We survived, Scott. Thanks to you. You were fast enough.”

The grunt and groan that made it out between his brother’s fingers was pain itself.

The hoverchair made it awkward, but Virgil reached out and snagged his big brother with an arm and hauled him in the best he could. Scott, of course, protested, but Virgil’s arms were not injured and he was always smug that he had at least one thing racked up on the achievement scale that beat his almighty big brother and that was strength.

So, Scott was dragged into a hug whether he wanted it or not.

“Still here.”

Scott grumbled something unintelligible.

“Gords is adding it to his story list to tell at Penny’s parties.”

“He’s what?”

Distraction achieved.

“Wanna drop by Penny’s next charity dinner and play wingman to Gords? You get to take a few stiffs down a peg or million. Apparently, a few asses need a big brother kicking. We can break out Johnny and Eos for extra fun, if you like.”

“Who’s been messing with Gordon?” There it was. Exactly the trigger point needed.

“The Joe Wallstreets seem to think they are better than a fish Tracy.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh. Want to help me educate them? Though admittedly Gords was doing quite well on his own, higher education is always a good thing.”

Scott was staring at him in the darkness. It was obvious his brother knew exactly what Virgil was doing.

“I’ll be there.”

“Great. It will be good PR for whatever charity Penny is supporting. With a bit of luck we can play it to her advantage as well.”

Scott was still staring at him.

“What?”

Ever so quiet. “What would I do without you?”

Virgil swallowed, desperately ignoring all the implications and the reverse of that question. “Here’s hoping we never find out.”

Scott sighed and let his head drop onto Virgil’s shoulder.

Virgil just tugged him a little tighter and returned to trying to see the stars.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

[clonewarslover55]

Commander Bacara relationship headcanons (SFW and NSFW)

Here are some headcanons nobody asked for!! 

Note: There are no gifs of him on this hell site. The only one I found is of his fucking boots. If you don’t know what this hottie looks like please look him up 

SFW 

Bacara is the strong silent type 

He’s also seen as a loner 

He will not talk to you unless he has to. So getting this man to just talk to you is a challenge 

When you first hear his voice you’re surprised that it’s deeper and rougher than other clones

But! Bacara is a Marine! This means he’s very cocky(Just like Marines here in America! No offense, but I’m right)

This means if you challenge Bacara, or ask him about something badass he did, he’ll talk to you 

Bacara especially loves to be challenged in fitness and such 

We all know Bacara has railguns, so he can probably bench press you plus a lot more  

He’s beefier than some other clones, and it’s all muscle. He weightlifs a LOT. 

If you watch him workout he shows off, but he won’t admit it

That’s how he flirts. He shows off. He will not flirt in any other way

When he’s shirtless you get a good view of his tattoo sleeves. 

The tattoos are  wavy and spider web like as they run down his arms, with very detailed patterns in them. They connect at his shoulders and turn into a tattoo that traces his spine

Most of his tattoos are death related, so that says a lot about his personality. One of his tattoos is a shattered clone trooper helmet with the skull visible, a droid head beside it. 

You also quickly notice that both of his ears are pierced twice, with black studs 

If you do somehow get Bacara into a relationship with you it’ll be hard 

He seems generally disinterested in everything, so reading him is difficult. 

He doesn’t seem to give a flying fuck about anything, so you didn’t know if he actually liked you at first 

Bacara isn’t a fan of the streets of Coruscant. He’d much rather be sleeping or lifting weights 

When he does get time for leave he hates leaving the barracks, but he will come over to your place 

Once you invite him over once he officially lives there. It’s like when you feed a stray cat once, they instantly becomes yours 

This means a fully armored Bacara will show up at your door at anytime, just because he can 

You don’t mind because he’s an amazing cook 

One time you walked into your apartment and Bacara was cooking dinner, wearing a dumb bright pink apron that said, “Kiss the cook.” 

Bacara has that odd sense of humor. You know where he’ll do something absolutely hilarious while keeping a bemused look on his face. 

It’s always surprising and hilarious when he does something like that

You asked him how he can cook and he said he taught himself, because he hates ration bars 

Bacara is also very neat, you’re pretty sure he has mild OCD 

If you touch his stack of armor he slaps your hand and stares at you till you back away

Your date nights are never going out somewhere fancy, it’s usually you two relaxing at your place 

Sometimes he’ll make dinner, or you’ll just have a movie night. No matter what, Bacara will make sure the date is perfect and rememberable 

You’ll have to buy him comfy clothes to sleep in because he doesn’t own any 

Soft pajama pants?? Bacara loves them. 

Bacara loves cuddles. He won’t admit it, even as he crawls on top of you to rest his head on your chest so he can listen to your heartbeat

He has pretty high maintenance hair that he takes pride in. 

His hair is snow white and in the typical clone haircut, but with purple(Or whatever color his armor has on it) patterns shaved in on the sides

Bacara always has a five o'clock shadow, but never an actual beard 

If you volunteer to help Bacara with his hair it becomes your permanent job. 

He melts as you wash his hair. This leads to you two taking a lot of bubble baths together 

Once you two have been in a relationship for a while he still isn’t talkative

Bacara never wants to talk about his issues, he keeps his PTSD and other issues buried deep down 

He really enjoys killing, like his brother Neyo. He won’t ever tell you that though 

He also seems rather cold sometimes, but he’s rarely cold around you 

Bacara can be kind of mean sometimes though. He’s never aggressive or abusive, he can just be mean with his words

When he’s pissed off you know it though. His jaw clenches and he gets very tense 

Bacara cusses like a sailor when he does talk, so when he’s pissed it gets worse 

Calming him down is like calming down a pissed off and spooked horse. He’s big and scary, and very mad. It takes a few minutes to get him to relax 

Being a Galactic Marine, he may be away for longer times 

He always makes up for being gone though! 

Sometimes he might bring you something he thought was cool from one of his missions 

Like a pretty rock. He brings you rocks. 

But other than that he never really gives you presents. 

He spoils you with forehead kisses and cuddles though!

Bacara will fall in love with you pretty quickly, but he won’t say it for a while 

He eventually says it while cuddling you after some intimate sex 

He’ll love you till the end of his days, and that’s a promise. 

NSFW 

You wouldn’t think Bacara would have much experience, but you were wrong 

Bacara makes you cum almost immediately, and that’s how you learned Bacara knows his stuff

He can read you like a book, so after a time or two he’ll know exactly what makes you scream

He’s still the strong silent type in bed. The only way to get him to be vocal is if he's tied up and being teased 

Bacara will give you short one word orders though. His rough voice sending shivers down your spine 

He loves being in control. But sometimes he will let you take the reigns

He’s a brat when you’re domming him though 

Bacara is a very very patient man, so he’ll tease you and drag orgasm after orgasm from you 

He loves seeing you writhe and moan underneath him

He doesn’t care how you two fuck. He’ll go fast or slow, rough or gentle. It all depends on both of your moods 

Bacara will not talk about his kinks, but if you bring up yours he’d listen

He’s pretty kinky, but you’ll always have to bring up something new for you two to try 

He’s surprisingly eager to try new things

You quickly learn that he loves spanking, both on you and himself

(He drinks his respect women juice so pegging)

He also loves choking

Bacara also loves to give oral, he is addicted to your taste 

He often wakes you up with his very skilled mouth 

The first time you give him oral he is very unsure at first

He quickly learns that he loves being in your mouth 

All the clones have a breeding kink, but his is dialed down because he hates kids 

So he doesn’t care if he cums inside of you or on you

His cock is very big, just like the rest of him

He loves it when you trace his muscles, most of which are covered in tattoos 

Bacara is up for quickies, especially before he has to leave for a long mission

With aftercare he usually takes a hot shower or bath with you

Sometimes he will just clean you both up with a hot rag before passing out beside you 

Aftercare depends on what you two do and how much energy you two have left 

He loves it when you fall asleep in his muscular tattooed arms

Tags: @catsnkooks @captainrexstan @valkyrieofthehighfae @peacelandbread

[vodkaxtonic]

One Night Dance

Request: can u make another katara x reader fluff plsss, your stories have proven to cheer me up when im feeling kinda down

Of course! I'm glad you like them!

TW: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

Wordcount: 2K

You didn't know where she came from or who she was, but you knew from the very first minute you laid eyes on her, you were a goner.

The way her bright blue eyes shone with so much confidence and friendliness, the way her body swayed to the music that rang through the cave, and the way she laughed so loudly, her voice sounding like the most angelic thing there was.

It was rare seeing someone like her, so open about her feelings and the happiness she felt right now, in the fire nation. The only thing this country ran on was deep-rooted anger and hatred. It was unusual seeing someone this happy, this carefree.

With a smile, you watched your classmates dancing to the loud drums that echoed through the cave, the new boy from your class dancing with the girl, and they grinned widely at each other as they did. You stood off to the side, not wanting to embarrass yourself in any way in front of the girl you seemed to crush on so quickly.

"What's wrong? Come on!" Before you could say something, Kuzon pulled you by your arm into the crowd, and your face flushed as you bumped into a few people. "I can't dance!" You told him over the music, cheeks, and ears flushed red as your eyes quickly glanced over to the girl standing beside him. "Doesn't matter! Just be free for once!" The boy smiled brightly before spinning away as he left you and the girl alone.

"What's your name?" The girl with the bright blue eyes asked and a kind smile on her face as her body swayed with every beat of the drums, her body seemingly fluid with the rhythm. "Y/N Y/L/N." You answered, a hesitant smile on your face as you slowly followed suit, letting your body move to the sound of the drums. "You're not from here, are you?" You asked with a knowing smile, closer to her ear, and she froze in her movements, eyes wide. "W-what-" She stuttered but waved her off with a smile. "I'll keep your secret." You laughed lightly, and you could see the way her tense shoulders slumped, a breath of relief escaping her mouth. "How'd you know?" The stranger asked, coming closer to you, barely an inch between you as you danced together. "People like you are rare." You shrugged, the song changed, and so did the rhythm of your dancing. "So lively. Carefree." You grinned, looking at her face. Her cheeks flushed a bright pink and her gaze focused on your neck instead with a grin. "What's your name?" Once again, you got a bit closer, your breath hitching as her head snapped up, and you realized just how close you were. Her breath fanned your face as she looked at you, her pupils dilating slightly. "Katara."

That was three months ago, and somehow you couldn't get that girl out of your goddamn head. Her long brown hair, her bright blue eyes, pearly white smile. Katara.

Katara, Kuzon, and whoever was the other guy that looked a lot like Katara vanished. It was like they never existed, and no one spoke of them anymore. Anytime you brought up the subject, your class wouldn't let you say another word. As if you had a fucking hallucination.

You knew what you saw. You saw that girl, her tan skin illuminated by the many firepits in the cave, the necklace around her neck with the blue stone, the light but still visible freckles on her cheeks.

When you saw her again, you hadn't expected it to be under those circumstances.

When the war started yet again, Ozai decided to force the teenagers of the Fire Nation to help the Nation and drew them in as soldiers. It was no fun, especially being Azula's guard. You were one of the best in close combat, and at fire bending, so it was no wonder you got picked to protect the princess.

"Princess!" You called as you ran through the palace. Where the hell did she go? "Fucking royals." You muttered under your breath, your metal suit heavy on you as you jogged through the palace. A bright blue flash made you stop in your tracks, and you ran over to the window, your eyes widening. There were Prince Zuko and a clearly distraught Princess Azula standing across from each other, fire wielding through the air as they attacked each other. An Agni Kai.

Your feet quickly took you outside, and you could see Zuko's back, and Azula's eyes flashed to you, a madman grin on her face. She's lost it. "Attack the filthy water tribe peasant!" Azula yelled, and you managed to jump away from the icicles flying your way, your feet dragging over the ground as you turned to your attacker.

Those fucking blue eyes.

You froze, and Katara took the opportunity to attack you. A groan of agony left your mouth as you flew against one of the columns, heavily breathing as you looked up. With quick movements, you took off your helmet, and Katara's eyes widened. "Y/n?" It was barely a whisper, and you turned quickly to Azula.

It was just a second when you saw her hand reaching up in the air, the other one pointing at her brother, a wicked grin on her face. Her eyes told you what she was about to do, and before you could think, your feet took you over to Katara.

Everything seemed to slow down when Azula pointed her fingers at Katara, the lightning leaving her fingers tips.

A rush of pain ran through your body as you bent the lightning back into the air, your fingers burning from the heat, and your chest tightening in pain as you stared at Azula. Zuko took the opportunity and struck Azula, giving her the last bit to knock her unconscious.

With a groan, your knees buckled, and you fell to the ground. Your fingers burned, the smell of burned flesh entering your nose, and your hand found your way to your chest, gripping it painfully.

You might be an amazing bender, but trying to light bend this quickly and correctly was hard, even for an experienced bender. So it was no wonder that a few of the strayed lighting managed to strike your heart.

With heavy breaths, you fell to the ground, your chest tightening painfully, and you felt incredibly lightheaded as Zuko and Katara stood over you, Zuko's eyes wide in shock and Katara's filled with tears. "Zuko, we need to help them! Please!" Her voice strained as she looked at her friend, and Zuko only nodded before he started taking off your heavy uniform, making it easier for him to carry you away.

"Didn't think we'd reunite like this." It was a breathless chuckle that left your mouth as Zuko heaved you into his arms, Katara right beside him as they jogged through the palace. They needed to find someone to help you, and they didn't care if they had to force them to do it. "Me neither." Katara laughed lightly, wiping away her tears with her fingers, trying to keep up with Zuko's long steps. "I think I'm gonna pass out." You muttered, your vision doubling and getting disoriented as you tried to stay awake. "Don't you dare," Zuko retorted, and finally, he found his way to the medical wing of the palace, eyes of doctors widening at the sight of the banished prince and the water tribe girl. "I-" You pressed out a hiss as you held your chest, your vision getting worse, and before you knew it, a painless abyss engulfed you, and you couldn't help but let it cradle you into sleep.

When your eyes fluttered open, a moan of pain left your mouth. Every muscle in your body sent waves of pain through it, and you felt like death as you let your eyes flutter open, jaw clenched. "Oh my god! They're awake! Let's get the Firelord!" A nurse said, making your eyes widen. Ozai? Ozai would kill you for defending a water tribe girl.

You pulled out the IV and sat up, almost collapsing as you tried to stand up, your hand gripping the bed for dear life. "I need to go." You muttered as you tried to stop your head from spinning, and slowly but surely, you managed to stand up straight.

When you reached the door, you ran into a rock-hard chest, and if it weren't for the person grasping your wrist, you probably would've fallen on your ass. Your hands started to tremble as you saw the robe of the Firelord, not daring to look up. You were going to die, weren't you?

"Y/n?" You almost got whiplash at how fast your head snapped up, once again getting dizzy. "Prince Zuko?" Your eyes widened as you saw the boy in the official Firelord attire, the bun on the top of his head neatly, and a kind smile fell over his face. "Firelord Zuko." He corrected, and you ripped your hand out of his grasp before bowing. "I'm so sorry-" "Calm down, and go sit down before you collapse." He lightheartedly chuckled before he guided you back to bed, and you were glad when you felt the firmness of the mattress beneath you. "You were out for over a week. Missed a lot of stuff." Zuko said, sighing as he took a seat on the chair next to your bed.

"Where's Katara?" Your eyes widened. You only remembered where Azula struck the lighting and that you bent it back towards the sky, and everything after that was a blur. Did she get struck by lightning? "She's been informed. She insisted on staying here until you were doing better, and she's probably on her way."

As if it was on cue, the door slammed open, and Katara stood there, eyes wide and out of breath as she looked at you. "I'll leave you two alone." Zuko smiled as he stood up, Katara running past him, and he closed the door as you got tackled into a hug, a groan escaping your mouth. "Oh my god, sorry!" She squeaked in embarrassment as she pulled away, but you just waved her off, a fond smile on your face. "I thought you wouldn't make it." Only now, you could see the tears glistering in her eyes. A frown covered your face before you nudged her with a smile. "Can't get rid of me that easily."

Katara looked at you, her bright eyes holding words that she couldn't speak just yet, and her smile warm. Your face lightly flushed as you fiddled with your fingers, hissing at the pain pulsing through your body. Your gaze shifted onto your bandaged hand, and you remembered how your fingers got burned. "You know, from the first time I saw you, I was mesmerized." You admitted, your cheeks darkening even more as you chuckled lightly. "You radiated happiness, calmness, and life. It made me feel something I haven't felt in a very long time." You muttered, not being able to stop the words from flowing out of your mouth. "And no matter how hard I tried, there was just no way I could forget those eyes." You looked up, and her cheeks seemed just as flushed as yours.

It was sudden when her lips pressed against yours, oh so hesitant and softly, yet like it was her lifeline. Your eyes fluttered close as you pulled her closer to you by her neck, and she placed one of her knees in between your legs as she leaned against you as softly as she could to not hurt you more than you already were.

You were panting as you pulled apart, the widest and most blinding smile covering her face, her cheeks pink and eyes full of love. "Glad I'm not the only one who felt that way."

If anyone would've told you that you'd marry a water bender from the southern water tribe ten years later and live on the ember islands, and be best friends with the Firelord and the Avatar, you probably would've laughed, but now it was the beautiful reality you dared to call your life.

Who could've known that just one night dancing in a cave together would end up like this?