#and then one day din shows up and tells him that he does not blame him

[apricusapollo]

I had a vision a while ago where rey goes to the island to try and get luke to go back home with her BUT din goes with her. leia is the one who suggests the idea. and helps rey find din. who hasn't heard from luke for so many years. and rey talks to luke and when he refuses to go. din walks up to them and luke just. dies a bit inside even more.

[kyberblade]

Back To You (Din x Reader) - Part 3

A/N: I had planned on getting all the way to Mos Pelgo, but we didn’t. We’re exploring feelings, and getting some back story between these two. I hope you enjoy it!

(This takes place right where the other one left off and goes right to the first part of episode 2x1/9, The Marshal.)

I do not own Star Wars or it’s characters. Sadly. But I carry them in my heart. Does that count for something? My soul says yes.

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff, Grogu being the cutest thing you ever did see, and Din is once again a warning in and of himself in this one.

Word count: 5,017

As always, thanks to @grippingbeskar for encouraging me, looking over this for me, and being the one to introduce me to Din fanfiction in the first place, getting me hooked. You are fantastic and I always love our chats.

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Xxx

You’d heard of Tatooine, but never been there.

Working in a cantina on a planet that was an intergalactic hub let you see all kinds of people, with vast experiences and knowledge to pass along. True, a lot of it seemed like tall tales spun by drunken lips, which admittedly a large portion of it was, but you still learned a thing or two between glasses of spotchka and embellishments.

If you ever had any questions, you asked Din. He had been almost everywhere, as far as you could tell, and though he always ordered a drink, he never drank it, slipping it instead across the bar to you when no one was looking.

At first you blamed the helmet, and you told him as much. To which he shrugged and responded that he just wanted to keep his wits about him, in case anyone tried anything. You’d always assumed he meant a drunken brawl, or if a patron got too handsy, but after the last few days, you were beginning to understand a little better.

Din would keep you company at the bar, holding it up with all that beskar. He rarely ever sat, but then again, neither did you, as you worked behind the counter. He never really talked about his work, but he talked about where he had been, what he had seen, and it fascinated you. He basically got paid to travel and see the galaxy, and a small part of you envied him for that.

He brought you trinkets after the first few visits, just small little things he thought you’d like, and he nailed it every time. Anyone who came to your apartment would have thought you were extremely well traveled, with this and that from the Outer Rim, and these from Naboo, oh, and that one thing from Corellia.

You smiled fondly as you thought back on all the moments, sitting in the copilot seat to Din’s left in the cockpit of the Razor Crest. Despite Tatooine’s not so great reputation, you weren’t worried at all, because you knew you were going with someone who knew what they were doing. If it had been anyone else, you had no doubt, you’d be out of your mind with anxiety.

The kid sat in the chair to your right, warbling on about something he wanted desperately, hand reaching out and you felt a surge before a small metal ball on top of one of the levers began to unscrew. You watched in silence, eyes wide, biting your lip to not start laughing.

Suddenly the ball flew into his grip with a cry of triumph, making Din jump slightly in surprise, and mutter a curse under his breath.

Turning to glare at the kid, he glanced over to you before starting to turn back, doing a double take. His visor leveled on you, you couldn’t help the smile anymore.

“What’s so funny?” He asked, voice almost annoyed, but the sigh that followed showed he was resigned to the situation.

“Nothing. I’m just thinking about how I never left Coruscant, and now in a matter of just a few days, I’ve already been to several new planets. I’m happy.”

“I don’t know that I’ve ever known someone to be happy to see Tatooine,” he muttered dryly, making you chuckle.

“I’m happy to see anywhere. I’ve lived vicariously through you for years, now I get to put my feet on the ground somewhere instead of just pretending.”

“Well, just stay close to me. So long as you do that, you should have nothing to worry about.” He began to spin back to the front, pausing and turning his head back to face you when you spoke again.

“I’m not worried. As long as you’re here, I’m not worried.”

He stared at you in silence for a long moment. Nothing changed in his posture, not the tilt of a helmet, the twitch of a finger, nothing. And you found yourself wishing for the first time you could just see his face. Was he smiling? Staring? Did you have something on your face?

Finally the moment passed, and he turned back to fully face the front, reaching out to flick a switch as you saw the planet looming through the viewport.

Xxx

You dropped the last few feet of the ladder, landing firmly in the hull. Turning, you almost ran into Din, causing you to stumble back a little bit. He reached out a hand to stabilize you, and you looked at it briefly as it sat on your shoulder. You were so used to him being across a barrier from you that all of this contact stirred up something new in you. It was a feeling you couldn’t quite place, but you knew you wanted more of it.

Glancing down as you cleared your throat, you saw the kid in his satchel, babbling away excitedly. “Well, someone looks happy to see Tatooine,” you said, poking fun at what Din had said earlier.

He let out a soft snort of laughter. “He’s just happy to see a friend.”

The ramp began to lower, and you turned to brace against the wall of heat that rushed in to fill the space.

“I could have done without that,” you muttered, pushing your sleeves up to your elbows.

Din leaned in close to your ear, a snarky voice popping through the modulator. “Welcome to Mos Eisley.”

Following a few paces behind him, you turned from glaring at the back of his helmet to taking in the hanger, seeing a lot of beige, brightness, and parts everywhere. A shorter woman with curls that stuck out in a way that almost made her look crazy but also somehow made her endearing was calling out to some small little pit droids to leave the ship alone.

“You know he doesn’t like droids.”

You raised your eyebrow at him. This was new info.

“May as well let them have at it. The Crest needs a good once over.”

You let out a snort of laughter, hanging your head to examine the ramp when he turned his visor slowly to glare at you, tilted just to the side. You scuffed your shoe just to have something to do.

The tiny woman saved you, drawing his attention back with, “I guess a lot has changed since you were last in Mos E- Oh! Thank the Force!” She let out a cry of glee when Din turned to let her see the satchel, the kid giggling at the sight of his friend as she reached for him. Din helped her get him out of the bag, stepping back to your side where you stood at the base of the ramp looking on with a smile. “Come here, you little womp rat!”

Looking back up at the Mandalorian with a grin you decided you could trust, she turned her gaze onto you, her eyes sparkling playfully, and you were reminded of the child in her arms. No wonder they got along so well. “And who might this be?”

“This is my…. Friend, from Coruscant,” Din said, introducing you.

The woman offered her hand, which you took and shook firmly, returning her smile. “Your friend, eh?”

You chuckled. “Yes, he actually does have one.”

Din cleared his throat, gesturing to you as he went on. “There was an…. Incident, and we had to get her off planet for now.”

You looked up to the side of his helmet, noticing how he wouldn’t look at you, and smirked. Incident. He must really like that word.

“Well, any friend of Mando’s is a friend of mine. Name’s Peli. Ever need anything, just ask.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I’ve been tasked with returning him to his kind-”

“I meant her, she could ask. You, we need conditions for.”

Din groaned and spoke on a sigh. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

You walked around the hanger while they continued to discuss business, looking at maps and going over details. Hands held behind your back you ambled aimlessly, looking at the various tables and other surfaces covered in various parts for all sorts of things, from household stuff to large ship parts.

You didn’t really know what most of it did, but you knew a thing or two from a mechanic who came into the bar once a week and after a drink or several began to grumble about his customers, complaining about their lack of knowledge. You’d roll your eyes as you turned away to refill his cup, but some of what he said had sunk in, locked away for when necessary.

A hand on your forearm startled you, making you spin around and step back slightly from the source.

“Sorry,” Din said quietly. “We’re going to have to leave the ship here and go by speeder to Mos Pelgo. I assume you don’t know how to drive one?”

You tilted your head back, looking down your nose at him. “That’s presumptuous of you. I grew up on Coruscant. You have to have transport most anywhere.”

“So no?” Din asked after a moment.

“No,” you mumbled, looking over to the droids working on his ship.

“Then I’ll teach you.”

“What?” Your eyes snapped up to his visor, lips a tight line.

He shrugged. “It’s easy. There’s plenty of room, just sit in front of me, I’ll do the shifting and driving for a while, then when we’re out in the desert, away from people and things you can hit, you can try it.”

“Oh, how kind of you to offer,” you said sarcastically, earning a chuckle. “You know, if this goes poorly, and we’re way out there, there’s no one to hear you scream.”

“Is that a threat?” He said playfully, visor tilting to the side as his hands went to rest on his belt.

“You’ll find out,” you drawled, walking towards the speeder.

Climbing onto the bike, you instantly were smooshed forward when he climbed in behind you. You slowly looked over your shoulder at him, eyes narrowed. “Plenty of room, huh?”

“Yeah, for me.”

Rolling your eyes, you turned to face forward, trying to ignore the buzzing sensation from his laugh at your back, the sound leaving his chest and bouncing around what felt like your bones. You blamed it on the beskar, some weird resonance, frequency, or something. But you couldn’t fight the smile it brought to your face, or the shiver that ran down your spine when he leaned forward beside your ear and said just above a whisper, “Hold on.”

Xxx

He drove the first third of the way, and while you really tried, you didn’t pay much attention.

Peli had tossed a pair of goggles to you right before Din sped off, and you had scrambled to get them on before he hit the accelerator. You’d felt him tense up behind you as he adjusted a few controls, and as soon as the goggles were situated, he relaxed and almost molded around you before the world started flying by in streaks of color. It was almost like hyperspace, but brighter, warmer, and little flecks of sand pelted your skin occasionally. Sounds whizzed by you before you could focus on them, mixing into a ruckus underscore to the roaring of the speeder engine.

The further away from town you got, the cleaner the air smelled, and you found yourself taking deep, long breaths, relishing in the feeling you could never achieve back home. Every deep breath pressed your back more firmly into his chest, and you expected some remark from him, but you received none. If anything, he shifted backwards a little bit before pulling you back to rest against his chest again, giving you just an inch or so more breathing room.

After the first stint, he had you put your hands in the proper places on the handles, just to get the feel, and gently placed his over yours to help press the proper buttons and turn the proper gears. You tried to absorb it, you really did, but between the fresh air, the never ending fields of just sand and space instead of congestion and traffic, not to mention his hands over yours stirring up a new sensation you couldn’t put a name to, your mind wasn’t wanting to focus. Well, it was, but not on learning how to drive a speeder.

You glanced over your shoulder to look at the kid in his satchel on the back, his head poking out, ears flapping in the wind and a broad smile on his face.

Glancing to Din, you almost had to look away, the suns glinting off his armor making you squint.

Reaching up one hand, he put a finger on the side of your chin and pushed gently, turning you back to face forward. “Rule number one, always watch where you are going.”

Your eyes darted down to watch his hand come back to cover yours on the handle once again. I’m watching.

Xxx

The suns were setting as you pulled the speeder into a sweeping stop, the child squealing with delight along the long curve, giggling once the movement came to a jerking halt.

You ginned, looking back at Din to see his shoulders rise and fall as he let out a heavy sigh. “It’s a start,” he said finally. He looked back at the kid who had started babbling about something, and you took the moment to just look at him. The twin suns cast brilliant colors on his beskar, his armor reflecting them back with as much luster as it could offer. Light purples, pinks, oranges, and even a little red fading into the deep blue night sky above, sparkling with stars as they began to appear. He was a mirror of his surroundings, and it was no wonder to you that he was so good at what he did, sneaking into places unseen like a shadow.

“You’re alive, aren’t you?” You teased, watching as he turned back to face you again.

“That’s true,” he said thoughtfully, making you snicker.

“The kid is hungry,” he went on to say, his hands leaving yours where they had lingered on the handle bars, before they landed on your hips briefly, and he swung one leg over, jumping off the speeder fully.

You instantly missed his warmth, his calming presence at your back, and leaned forward slightly, away from the cool night air licking at your now exposed back.

“We can make camp here. I’ll get a fire started, then we can eat. After that….” he let out a heavy breath as he hefted a large bag of supplies off the speeder, setting it on the ground before he turned back to face you. “After that, I’m teaching you how to shoot.”

Xxx

“Now, just aim…. Like this….” Din spoke calmly, demonstrating slowly before pulling the trigger, a bolt of light leaving the blaster and sending the empty ration pack from dinner flying off the large rock. You weren’t sure of the distance, but you were sure it didn’t matter to him, he’d hit it regardless. “There. Now you try.”

“I don’t know about this,” you mumbled, shaking your head, looking down to your feet as you walked to where Din was. Bringing your gaze up, you narrowed your eyebrows, looking over at the kid where he stood atop another large rock just to your side. Darting your eyes to the target then back to him, you raised your eyebrows in question, and he tilted his head to express his own. Subtly nodding your head that way for emphasis, the kid looked down range at the targets, then back to you, eyes squinting playfully. You smirked.

Taking aim, you took in a deep breath, letting it out as you quietly said, “Just aim…. And….” Pulling the trigger, you missed the pack splendidly, sand shooting up way past the target where the bolt landed, and Din sighed, stopping short when the pack suddenly flew up and over out of nowhere.

Cocking his head to the side as he stared down range, you turned wide eyes to the kid, slowly shaking your head no to his squeaked ‘eh?’.

“You used the kid?” His voice was incredulous, even through the modulator, his head turning your way in disbelief.

You shrugged. “He helped me out at the fight yesterday, helped me listen in for a little bit. We’re basically partners now….”

“Partners in crime,” Din said sarcastically, hands going to his hips. “Do it again,” he gestured you forward, leaning around you to look pointedly at the kid. “Alone this time.”

“What good is a wizard baby if you can’t….” You could feel the tilt he leveled on you. “Fine, fine. I’m only joking, anyway.” You held up the blaster to aim before muttering, “Kind of.” Closing one eye, you aimed, and pulled, watching the bolt whiz right by a packet, close enough it wiggled. “Ah-ha!” You cried in triumph, turning to look at Din. “I did that while you were looking at me like that.” You nodded toward his still tilted helmet. “I think that’s practically the same as a bullseye.”

“Think again,” he muttered. “Try it one more time, then we’ll take a break.”

Determined, you took aim again, firing, only to miss spectacularly, and hit a rock several feet away from the target.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said, hand rubbing the forehead of his helmet in exasperation, “but let’s stop and think for a minute.” Walking over to the kid, his armor jingling with each step, he scooped him up in his arms, setting him down once he was closer to the fire, before he sat down himself.

Lowering yourself next to him, a few inches between you, you crossed your legs, leaning back on your palms as you stared at the fire.

“How did you train your abilities if the temple burned down?”

You turned your head to look at him, his question catching you off guard. He stayed staring straight ahead at the fire, one leg bent, his elbow resting on it comfortably. The flames reflected in his armor as they danced lazily.

Looking back to the fire, you took a deep breath before answering. “It’s like a muscle. You have to use it to grow, to get stronger. Once I knew what it was, we had to keep quiet because the Empire wanted all Force sensitive people, I’m not sure for what, but I didn’t want to find out.” You saw Din turn his visor your way in your peripherals. “It started with just reading everything I could get my hands on. The temple used to be there and Coruscant has a black market like you wouldn’t believe, so that wasn’t too hard. It’s mindfulness, really.”

You brought your knee up to rest your arm on, mirroring his position as you continued to stare at the fire. “Then, since I was on my own with it, just…. Using it. Small things. Amusing things. Helpful things.”

“Like what?” He seemed genuinely interested, not just moving the conversation along.

“Amusing like…. Tripping the kid who bullied me in school. Helpful like…. Lifting all the chopped vegetables into the pot while I’m doing something else at the same time. Stuff like that. Little things.”

Putting the palm of your hand not resting on your leg flat on the sand, you looked down at it, focusing. You felt the vibrations under the sand of creatures moving deep below the surface. The push and pull of gravity humming along your fingers. The slow rotation of the planet buzzing all around. And with a small smile, you channeled that all into one thing, making grains of sand slowly rise all around the three of you. They sparkled like stars in the firelight, the glow catching them just so.

The kid cooed, and Din took a sharp breath in, his arm jerking back from his knee, his leg slowly lowering to the ground as his head tilted back to look around at the particles.

Sending a swirl the kid’s way, you sent the sand around him circling, spiraling like a galaxy, making him giggle and squint his eyes as he pulled his arms tight like it tickled. Pulling the grains away from him, they assembled together into a mirror image of his face, hovering in front of him. He reached out to touch them with a squeal, and as soon as one claw poked the collection, they shot apart again, moving in a line to swirl around Din’s helmet in a spiral before you let them all fall back to the ground silently.

His helmet turned to face you, and you wanted to think you could read disbelief in his body language. It was almost just shock. But you just smiled while he processed and said, “Stuff like that.”

When silence hung between you for too long, you decided to ask something you had wondered for a while.

“Din, can I ask you a question? It’s going to seem so random, but I have wondered for a long time, and-”

“What is it?” His voice was quiet, kind.

“Why did you even first come into the cantina?”

“What do you mean?” He hesitated a little bit before asking.

“I mean, you never drink anything you buy. At first I blamed your helmet, then you said you wanted to ‘keep your wits about you’, but regardless, why did you even come into a cantina in the first place?”

You stared at the fire with wide eyes, lips drawn in a tight line. You hadn’t meant to ramble, it just came out. You were about to change the subject, tell him to forget it, when he answered plainly.

“I had a meeting.”

“Oh.” You don’t know what you were expecting. It was a perfectly valid answer. Maybe it was just the simplicity of it that caught you off guard, how something so simple had set off a chance meeting of a Mandalorian you’d come to call your friend.

“A contact who knew about a bounty wanted to meet there. They ended up never showing up.” He grunted a bit in frustration. “I ordered the drink for them to try and get on their good side. When it wasn’t going to get drunk, I slid it over to you. I didn’t want to waste it. I was about to leave, but then you said something….” He tilted his head to the side just slightly, as if searching the campsite before him for the answer. “I can’t even remember now, it was so long ago, I just remember you smiled at me, and it was the first time in a while anyone had done anything like that towards me. And I liked it.” He turned his head to look at you, and you could feel the weight of his gaze even through the visor. Once again you hoped you were meeting his eyes with your own, but after a few seconds they dropped back to the fire, unable to hold his stare.

It was the most words you think he had ever said at one time.

“So I stayed.” He turned back to look at the fire like you were, adjusting in his seat so subtly, you almost didn’t notice when he stilled again and was several inches closer to you, leaving only a sliver of space between you. “And I came back.”

“And you came back,” you whispered, feeling a smile tug up your lips. You leaned over and bumped your shoulder into his gently, righting yourself, but staying up against him instead of returning the small space left.

“And the drink, that was just…. Yeah, that was the helmet.” You both laughed softly. “So I would just give it back to you.”

“I figured as much,” you smirked. “Well, I hope one day we’re able to share a drink together. I refuse to let a helmet stand in the way of you getting to enjoy life. So we need to figure something out.” You placed a hand on his forearm, giving it a pat before returning it to your lap.

“We’ll see, cyar'ika,” he said with a chuckle, gently shaking his head. Standing up, he held out his hand for you. “Come on. I want to try something.”

Taking his hand, you stood up, following close behind him.

“I want you to focus like when you did the thing with the sand when you shoot.”

“I don’t know, it takes a lot of concentration, and I haven’t been keeping up with it lately. It can be very draining, as I’m sure you’ve seen with the kid.”

“Just try. For me?” His voice was quiet, and you knew why. He wanted you to be safe. This was his way of helping that process along. “Here, I’ve got you. If it’s too much, I’m right here.” He walked the few steps to stand behind you, chest against your back like before on the speeder. “I’ll catch you.”

Swallowing roughly, you nodded, lifting your arms to aim, stilling when his hands came to rest on your shoulders. “Relax,” he spoke softly by your ear. “You’re too tense, it’ll skew the shot.” His gloved hands slowly slid down your arms, coming to rest around your hands, mirroring your stance exactly. “Breathe.”

“Okay, you try learning to shoot, use the Force, and have your personal space invaded all at the same time and you breathe,” you snarked quietly.

His hands pulled away from you slightly. “Okay. Sorry. I’ll step back.”

“No, no,” you immediately stopped him, stammering, “that’s not what I said.” You licked your lips, adjusting your feet a bit into a stronger stance. “I’m just…. I’m trying.”

His hands came back and you not only heard his low chuckle, but felt it buzzing out of his chest and into you.

The warmth of his embrace helped you focus. He wrapped around you like a blanket, shielding you from everything else. His hands held onto yours just tightly enough to know he was there, and just lightly enough to be maddeningly not enough. You felt the Force flowing through the sand, up through him, and into you. Glancing to the side you saw the child once again up on his rock, watching, his eyes sparkling with mischief, making your lips tilt up in a smirk. Looking back at the targets you relaxed your shoulders down, letting out the tension on a sigh.

The coolness of his beskar was a stark contrast to the rest of him, the rigidity pressing into your spine as everything else molded to you like it was made to.

“Keep both eyes open, and when you’re ready, just pull the trigger.”

His voice was low and steady at your back, calming even. Each word created a vibration that betrayed the processed sound of the modulator, and seemed to bounce around inside you like an echo. It made you feel grounded, safe…. It was the same feeling you got whenever he walked back into your cantina. Or when you’d sit with a cup of tea and stare at the painting he gave you. It felt a lot like coming home.

Aiming at the farthest empty ration pack, you took a deep breath in, let it out, stared down the packet and-

It flew into the air, spinning end over end before landing on the sand with a plop.

You smiled the biggest smile you think you’ve ever had on your face, Din let out a laugh in triumph, and the kid squeaked happily from atop his rock as he looked on.

You turned your head to look at him over your shoulder, voice quiet, but excited. “I did it.”

“I knew you could.” His tone was proud and sounded like he was smiling, too.

You stared at him for a minute, grin turning mischievous. “One more time?”

He laughed softly, gently shaking his head at you playfully as he held you close once again, his visor turned not down the range at the target, but looking at you.

Hitting another packet straight on, you looked up at him again and smiled, finding him already looking down at you. His thumbs began to trace your knuckles, almost absentmindedly, and you wanted to lean into the feeling.

But suddenly everything started to spin, and you just couldn’t keep your eyes open. You felt the world dropping out from underneath you before it was stopped by two strong arms, Din’s hands leaving yours and bringing one arm behind your shoulders, the other catching you under your knees. Walking carefully back, you felt the slight sway of his steps as he went back by the fire, the warmth spreading over your skin the closer you got. Your head rested on his shoulder, and you felt yourself burrowing closer into his neck, the soft material of his shirt much more comfortable than the pauldron under your cheek.

Opening your eyes as much as you could, you saw the front of his throat and the fire in front of you both as he settled down against one of the rocks, leaning back against it with a muffled groan as he got comfortable. “Thank you,” you muttered, adjusting in his hold so that your nose was pressed into his neck.

“Sleep, mesh’la,” he said in a deep, quiet voice.

A blanket was being placed on you where you curled into his lap, and soon you felt the kid inching his way up your leg using the material as leverage. A contented sigh left the little one as he curled into a ball on your lap, and you felt sleep coming faster and faster. Din sighed before relaxing back against the rock, his grip adjusting on you and holding you close. He turned his visor to face you, and the cold feel of beskar against your forehead helped you take the last few steps to rest, the last thing you register was his quiet voice once again as he leaned his head back against the rock. “Sleep.”

Xxx

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[mykingdomforasong]

Gluten_Full Fic Masterpost

Name on AO3: Gluten_Full (35 Fics total) Notes: this is not a complete list

Tumblr: Mykingdomforasong

Fandoms: Star Wars OT, The Mandalorian, The Book of Boba Fett

Ships listed: DinLuke, SkySolo, DinCobb, DinHan, DinLukeHan, BobaDinLuke, BobaDinFennec, NiteArmor (Bo-Katan/The Armorer)

My Tumblr Writing Tag

DinLuke:

More Light Than Heat

E, Complete (6/6)

If everything went according to plan, Luke would be engaged by the end of the day. He would meet his husband today. He didn’t even know what he looked like. ~*~*~ In an effort to help the recovering planet Mandalore, the Republic agrees to an arranged marriage between the Mand'alor and one of their most eligible bachelors: Luke Skywalker, son of Padme and Anakin. The only hurdle in this match is that the Mand'alor does not speak basic, and Luke does not speak Mando'a.

Flyboy

E, Complete (1/1)

If there was any one thing that would get Din to join the Rebellion it was this pretty boy who had shown up on the holo-net out of nowhere. He was an X-Wing pilot, judging by the uniform - a tight orange jumpsuit, tousled hair, and a face too pretty for war, in Din’s opinion.

Din spends years looking at and fantasizing about the Rebellion pin-up boy, only to find out nearly a decade later that his flyboy fantasy is the last Jedi and his son's new teacher.

The Princeling

M, Complete (1/1)

“There’s a catch,” Karga had told him when he accepted the puck. “He has to be brought in warm. He’s no use to the client dead.” He was bait, Karga explained, to get to his mother, the senator. “He’s not much of a fighter,” Karga assured him. “But …” Din leaned back, ready for whatever other tip he had for him. “He likes men. Too much for his own good, from what the net says. Shouldn’t be hard for you to … make an impression.”  ~ Din is tasked with brining in a warm bounty. He's promised it should be easy, but the princeling is more than Din bargained for.

Love Me in the Dark

T, Complete (1/1)

No one - not his sister, his friends, or his dad - knew that Luke was gay. No one, except, now, Din Djarin. He never should have come here tonight. He had seen the flyer for a “Queer Poetry Slam” in the bathroom of a coffee shop a block away, and he’d pocketed it. It had taken him all week to build up the courage to come. And now he was in a basement listening to gay poets read gay poetry. And Din Djarin was watching him.

"I won't tell anyone," Din promised him. "Do you want a ride home?"

SkySolo

Two You Owe Me

E, Complete (3/3)

They had been in the cockpit just a few minutes before. Han was showing Luke some of the Falcon’s modified bells and whistles. And if he had been flirting, who could blame him? He liked a pretty boy with a bratty attitude. But they rarely liked him back. Luke did, though. -- Han gets Luke a little too worked up right before the Medal Ceremony on Yavin 4.

M'Lord

E, Complete (1/1)

“I’ve never worked for a Lord before,” Luke explained, turning towards him. “Not very clear on the rules.”

“I’ll have someone explain them to you, then,” Han said. ~ Luke is the new stable boy at Han's estate, and while he's great with the horses, he's not as skilled with the manners. Han can't say it bothers him, though.

Love Like Rain

T, Complete (1/1)

Luke’s heart rate rose, and he stopped him again. “What if I hurt you?” Han almost laughed, but Luke kept looking at him, as serious as ever. The Force was a powerful thing, and it all seemed to concentrate within him now, moving in, around, and through him like a cyclone. “You could never,” Han said. “I could,” Han took Luke’s hands and pulled him forward. Luke let himself fall, coming to a stop just above Han. “It’s your imagination, kid.”

Do What He Wills

T, Complete (1)

Nothing is permanent - not the Jedi, not Han, not himself. Everything would be what it would be, and then pass into the Force. But the Force hadn’t willed their passing yet; it had brought them back together. This moment would end too, but enjoying the present was not coveting permanence. And so Luke leaned into the present moment with all the love and joy he could offer. ~*~ Han and Luke work to reconcile their relationship and Jedi teachings

DinCobb

Warmed Up

E, Complete (1/1)

Din looked down at him, armor dripping. "Sorry, I didn't know it would rain." He held out his hand to help Cobb up.  "Don't be. Never seen anything like it in my life."  "Let's get you out of those wet clothes," Din said. That alone warmed something up deep inside him. ~*~*~ Din and Cobb get caught in some cold rain and have to find creative ways of warming one another up.

Like To Watch?

E, Complete (1/1)

Din had been lifting him helmet to his nose to drink with Cobb. Between that little exposure and his name, … well, Cobb did sure feel like tonight was something special.

Din lowered his helmet and relaxed back in his chair, his hands resting on his belt.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about, Mando?” Cobb asked. Din tilted his head.

“What are you thinking about, Vanth?”

~ Or, Cobb learns that Din likes to watch.

Lean On You

T, Complete (1/1)

Cobb’s eyes went wide when he saw Mando step into the cantina. He stood up quick, one arm out stretched to shake the man’s hand again. Mando took his hand, squeezing it tight for a moment before dropping it.

“I hoped I’d see you again, Mando,” Cobb said.

He nodded. “I need a place to lay low for a while,” he said, “is it okay if I lean on you?”

DinHan

Should We?

E, Complete (1/1)

Din visits a Tatooine cantina, hoping to throw back some drinks to help him cope with the loss of Grogu. He meets a lonely stranger, and they find ways to comfort each other.

Take a Look

T, Complete (1/1)

Han winced as he watched Mando shock himself with a cauterizer. The cut across the front of his thigh looked pretty bad from where Han was sitting, but Mando hadn’t let Han within five feet of him to try and help. So Han just stood across from where Mando was sitting in the Falcon’s lounge chair, zapping away at himself.

“I’ve got some better first aid skills than that,” he gestured to the cauterizer. When Mando didn’t say anything back, Han just got the Falcon’s first aid kit himself. “Come on,” Han said, placing the kit down on the table. “Will you let me take a look?”

The Smuggler

E, Complete (1/1)

Din hadn’t expected him to be such a generous lover. His swagger gave off the attitude of a man who would do just enough for Din; just enough to scratch the itch that had been building for a few days.

So this was a welcome surprise.

DinLukeHan/Skymandolo

It's Always Sunny on Yavin 4 (Drabble Collection)

M, Incomplete (18/?)

A series of one shots and drabbles about Din/Luke/Han or skymandolo.

Ch 1: Hyperspace

Din wasn’t even looking at him, just watching the whirl of hyperspace.

“Luke’s been complaining that he doesn’t get off planet a lot anymore, with the school and everything,” Din said.

Fixated

E, Complete (1/1)

Luke was late getting back from some important Jedi field trip with all the kids that Han and Din had not been not allowed to participate in.

Thankfully they had no problem entertaining themselves. ~ Din and Han have a way to mutually satisfy their own desires while they wait for Luke to come home.

Illusions of Someday

T, Complete (1/1)

“I wanted to get back at them. And I did. Within days, I made them hurt. After that, though, everyone looked at me like some magic, flawless hero. Or they looked at me like some up-jumped farmboy who got lucky. You and Leia were the only ones who looked at me with respect. And not just because I’d blown up a Death Star, but because I was ... “

“You were good,” Han offered. ~*~*~ Nine scenes from Luke's life with the people he loves.

Sky's the Limit

E, Complete (1/1)

When Han caught Luke and the Mando, he shouldn’t have been surprised. Han knew from his own experience that Luke had a thing for getting off where he could easily get caught. Nearly-empty hallways weren't the exception, they were the rule.

“One of these days, kid, I’m gonna catch you two and insist on joining,” he threatened.

Other Ships

If You Know Where to Look

BobaDinFennec, M, Complete (1/1)

"I'm looking for work," the Mandalorian said. His unmodified voice was the way she remembered it, warmer and more pleasant than the metallic clamor of his voice under the helmet.

Seducing Din Djarin was the easiest thing either of them had done all week.

Ashes In the Wake

BobaDinLuke, T, Complete (1/1)

The Sarlac building had been an old fire safety hazard downtown for years, but no matter how many fines they hit the old man with, he never took care of it. Now it was rubble; rubble his  brother had pulled him out of already half-dead. After three weeks in the hospital doing skin grafts, burn treatments, pain management, and casting his broken femur, the doctors were sure his injuries weren’t going to kill him. They hadn’t been so sure about that the first few days, he’d been told. He wouldn’t know. He hadn’t been conscious.  ~*~ Boba is healing, and his husbands and son offer some excellent medical care.

Great Find

BobaDinLuke, E, Complete (1/1)

The pool had been Luke’s discovery. Behind the waterfall on Yavin IV, there was a shallow cave, with pools of hot spring water that bubbled up from deep under the surface Yavin IV. He waded into them naked, not shying away from the comfort of their volcanic warmth, ready to float away and stay in the cave forever.

When he finally emerged, he commed his partners, still naked and dripping for their benefit more than his. He got them back to the moon quickly with the promise of necessary relaxation from their desert worlds.

“And more wet, naked Jedi, I hope,” Boba added.

Luke smiled. “Of course.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Life Goes On

This if for @buckybarnesplumwhore​

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; grieving, funeral, breeding, handcuffs, warnings are not exhaustive so read at your own discretion.

This is dark! Andy Barber x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You volunteer at the local youth center but when one of the kids meets an unfortunate end, you cross paths with his father. No stranger to grief, you try to help him cope but find it a bigger than task that you expected.

Note: When I started writing, I had no plan. When I kept writing, there was still no plan. And then it just all kinda happened.

Thanks to everyone for sticking around and putting up with me and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

It was too sunny for a funeral. A funeral come too soon.

The service was held out in the sun, rows of wooden chairs and a sombre old priest. You never knew if the Barbers were religious but it was easy to find a holy man in Massachusetts, as easy as those early years of settlement found in textbooks. 

There were no flowers, only two oblong caskets shrouded in black cloth, the name of each of the dead on silver placards, no pictures, no souvenir of who they were.

It was like Andy was already trying to forget them. He was at the front, the grieving widower and father. You were lost somewhere in the middle with his co-workers, there out of propriety more than empathy, and distant relatives who attended out of courtesy, some passing acquaintances who followed the story in the papers more than out of compassion. It was a spectacle and Andy had done his best from feeding the leering onlookers.

You knew Jacob more than his parents. He was younger than you, almost ten years apart. You knew him from the youth group you volunteered for, the same one you'd been in at his age. He was out of place there, he was from a better neighbourhood than the other kids, they called him the rich brat, and he resented himself more for it than he did them.

His attendance kept his mother happy. He didn't like the individual counseling, he didn't talk, so she put him in the group and he talked there. Sometimes. The kids never went on philosophical monologues but they understood each other and shared what they needed to.

Laurie was always late to pick him up. So he stayed to help stack the chairs and you ended up waiting with him, making sure he wasn't alone in the dark. He hated that at first too, until he realised you weren't on the stoop to council or judge. You were just two people, chatting to pass the time.

Sometimes Andy picked him up. He was friendlier than Laurie. Jacob's mother was always in a rush, even on her way home where there was no deadline. She said thanks, maybe, and drove off as she began to lecture Jacob about how he wore his hat. Andy offered you a ride, every time, as if he had some compulsion to be the good guy, the saviour. You always said no, the bus was a five minute ride to your building, fifteen minutes if you walked.

Now Jacob was dead, his mother too. Another tragedy inflicted upon those least likely. Even death didn't stop the whispers, even that venue, the priest's collar, the Biblical dirges, the grim family man in black did not silence them. It sickened you as the service ended and the people rose in a hushed murmur.

Andy left without talking to anyone. The procession of cars would drive through the streets with flags to mark the grieving on their way to the interment. It was as if Andy was doing what was expected more than what he felt he owed the deceased. He was ever the lawyer, formal and curt.

You followed the grey parade. Not out of obligation but out of genuine regret. Jacob seemed like a lost kid, even in death. The rumours, the accusations, the suspicion, followed him. The people didn't watch the dirt fall from the shovel to see him at peace, they watched it as some grand finale to the great show of the Barbers.

When the metal no longer cut and scattered the soil, the crowd thinned out. You stayed as the diggers packed up. You were sad for Jacob, for Laurie. Andy hadn't been there to see the burial. You couldn't blame him but you were surprised. He just disappeared after the service, apparently done with his part in the play. 

You went closer and stared at the new stone that stretched above both plots. Laurie Barber… and her son, Jacob Barber. May they rest. It was as short, as minimal as anything else about the affair. You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand. You didn't know if Jacob was a bad seed, it wasn't your job to make that call, but he had just been a kid and all that potential was now six feet down.

"Didn't think anyone would stick around," the dark figure stepped up beside you, his steps muted by the grass, "least of all, you."

"I'm sorry, I…" you looked at Andy and then the dirt, "I'll go."

"Wait," he said before you could move, "I thought-- I thought I wanted to be alone for this…" he shoved his hand in his pocket, "but I've been alone since it happened and I'm realising, I'm gonna be alone from here on out."

You didn't say a word. You didn't know what you could say. He'd heard a hundred apologies, a hundred condolences.

"I'm happy someone stayed, that someone cared," he cleared his throat, "thank you."

You nodded and played with the buttons on your cardigan.

"He was too. Happy, you know, that someone cared. I think back now and I realise that you probably saw him more than me. He was always excited to go to the centre but he got in that car and he just… deflated." He shook his head, "maybe this is better. One way or the other, he wanted to get away from me but he never could get away from Laurie. She wouldn't let him go."

He chuckled sardonically but it quickly fizzled in his throat.

"Sorry, I'm rambling…"

"You're processing," you said, "a lot of the kids down at the centre, they lost parents, one way or the other, orphans, fosters… I always told them that they didn't have to make sense because grief never really does."

"Now that makes a lot of sense," he said, "but you shouldn't have to listen to me."

"I shouldn't or you don't think you should say any of it?"

"Hmmm," he hummed, "yeah, maybe."

"I don't get paid to listen to those kids, I just get a time and a place to do so. This isn't different. It's just talking and a lot of that is just figuring things out. Listening is easy, you're doing the hard part."

"Jeez, you come up with this stuff on your own or is there some sort of how-to book?"

You lifted your chin and sucked in your lip. You could tell where Jacob got the bite from.

"Sorry, that was… mean," he said after the silence settled with the dirt, "can I ask you something?"

"Sure," you said.

"You got somewhere to be?"

"No…" you answered cautiously.

"Do you think you might wanna listen to me a little more? I'll buy you a coffee for the trouble."

"You wanna talk? To me?"

"Better than anyone I do know," he snorted, "they all just give me that dumb look. They pity me, judge me. You don't have to say yes but I started now, if I stop, I'll...stop."

"Coffee?" You glanced over at him, "I'd rather tea."

"I'm sure they got that too," he fiddled with the trim of his pocket, "anytime you wanna bail, let me know."

"If I can handle teen angst, I think I can handle you."

🖤

That afternoon wasted away in the corner of a café. It felt like any other day but for Andy, you knew, it was likely the worst day of his life. Likely a day he wouldn’t forget. You sat patiently until the last of your tea was cold. He didn’t finish his coffee, he hardly even touched it. When you checked the time, he looked down embarrassed.

“It’s late,” he said, “I… I’m sorry for keeping you so long.”

“I didn’t have anything to do. I doubt you did either,” you swept up the paper cup and your purse.

“No, really, I mean, you don’t know me. You knew Jacob and I just sat here and talked your ear off for hours. I--” he looked out the window, “I know that when I go home, the house will still be empty. That’s why I’m here.”

You looked past him as he turned back. You chewed your lip, “Andy, have you looked into counseling yet?”

“It feels… too early for that.”

“Too early?”

“I don’t want to let it go. Don’t want to let them go,” he sucked his hands in his pockets, “if I go, that’s what they’ll tell me to do.”

“No, they’d help you live with it, not forget it,” you said, “but I know, it’s scary. Have you done anything? Read anything?”

“Read?”

“Self-help isn’t for everyone and those dummy books aren’t great I admit, but sometimes a start is better than nothing. What about… a routine? Do you have one?”

“I work, I come home, I sleep, and try not to notice they’re gone,” he shrugged, “and repeat. Lot of overtime.”

“You’re still working?” you went to the door and he followed.

“Well, I talked to you. That’s what I’m going to do about it.”

You stepped out into the evening din and spun to look at him. You crossed your arms and stood across from him on the pavement.

“Well, unfortunately there’s an age limit down at the centre,” you said, “but I could give you a number for an adult group.”

“No, I don’t wanna talk to a group of sad parents and widowers. Just remind me how pathetic I really am,” he scoffed.

“Do you think that what you’re doing right now is better?”

“Do you have a degree in this?” he wondered, “what are you doing down at that youth centre talking to degenerates?”

“I have a certificate that says I’m good at listening, but no, I couldn’t afford a degree,” you dropped your arms, “but, will you come down? Sit in on a session. Just listen… for Jacob? It helped him, I think, after a while?”

“With the kids?”

“Yeah, with the kids,” you said, “maybe it will help you decide.”

“Decide what?”

“If you’re going to keep doing what you're doing; nothing, or if you’re going to try. Trust me, after a while, just sitting there, ignoring it, it gets old and it won’t get better.”

He looked down and stared at his leather shoe as he ground his toe into the pavement, “is that allowed? Am I allowed to do that?”

“I don’t see why not. I have parents sit in all the time.”

“But I’m not-- not anymore,” he gulped.

“You are,” you patted his arm gently, “you always will be.”

“What time?” he raised his head.

“Tuesdays and Thursdays at four-thirty. We do accept late arrivals. Kids come in and out. Usually hang out til seven before I let them go.”

“I think I can make that work,” he exhaled deeply, “thank you.”

“For what?”

“For putting up with me.”

You nodded and gave a bittersweet smile, “I miss Jacob too. I might be little more than a glorified babysitter but it means something to me. The kids… they feel like they’re mine sometimes. At least on those two nights a week.”

“Well…” he peered down the street, “you need a ride?”

You chuckled quietly, “you now, I think this time, I do.”

🖤

Andy was early. He took a chair near the wall as the kids flopped on the low sofas and into the colourful armchairs. A government grant had seen an upgrade in the lounge, although the kitchen needed some work as the cooking classes were still short on supplies. Dark circles darkened his eyes and the hairline wrinkles around them added to the hollow effect. He wasn’t sleeping.

You waited for the room to quiet. You greeted the kids and went through the usual ice breaker; one bad thing, one good thing, and one way they could improve the bad. Many of them were reluctant at first, they resisted what they thought were cheesy and inane exercises but they all came around. They were able to voice things that otherwise would be kept to themselves and they were afforded a respectful and often rapt audience.

When you finished, you kept from naming your own three. You looked at Andy.

“I’m sorry, everyone, I’m so forgetful. This is Andy,” you gestured to him, “he’s sitting in with us today. Andy, why don’t you tell us your bad thing, your good thing, and one thing you can do to improve the bad.”

He looked startled but he stood and cleared his throat. He glanced around at the kids and the shadow left his face. “Well, I lost a file, there were free bagels at work, and… I guess I could try to look again tomorrow.”

“Very good,” you smiled, “alright, my turn at last. My bad thing is I spilled tea on my shirt, my good thing is it’s a dark shirt, and my thing to improve is… wear a bib.” You laughed as you audience stay stone faced, “alright, alright, I’ll just be more careful and not run with hot liquids.”

You sat and started with Danica. She was always the most talkative, that encouraged the other kids. Today was no exception and you had to remind her to save some time for everyone else. Erik was next, then Andre, and Shamea. You almost didn’t notice Andy as he stood and sidled against the wall. Not until he was at the door, he looked back darkly and you saw his chest fall heavily. His nostrils flared and he was gone.

You tried not to show your disappointment, tried not to let the kids notice. They were all caught up in the circle and breaking it was never good. Shamea passed the stuffed bunny to Naima and you focused on her. Maybe it was too soon for Andy, you understood that, but you hoped too that he might have found a piece of Jacob there.

Before the kids left, you handed out the coloured markers and they each scribbled down a few words before a high-five. They passed through the open door in pairs and singles, and you bent to add your own note. You tucked the card into your bag and locked up. Jacob was usually the only one to hang around. Not anymore.

You headed out the front door with a wave to Martha at the front desk and took a gulp of the fresh evening air. There was someone sat on the flat stone at the bottom of the broad rail of the stairs. You recognised Andy as you neared, much too big to be a teen.

“I’m sorry,” he dabbed his nose with his sleeve, “I couldn’t… I couldn’t stay in that room.”

“But you’re still here,” you said.

“I didn’t wanna just leave you hanging but… they all remind me of him,” he stood, “I’m sorry.”

“No more apologies,” you opened your purse and searched, “I had the kids put this together. Actually, it was Milo’s idea. He didn’t know it was you but he wanted to send it in the mail--”

“What?” he took the card and opened it. He turned so he could read it in the yellow light of the street lamp, “oh my god.”

“Is it too much?”

“No, no,” he ran his thumb over the ink, “it’s…” he closed it and tucked it into his jacket, “the only other thing I’ve got is the bill for the caskets. It’s… amazing. Thank you.”

“Not at all. They always surprise me,” you said, “most of the time, in good ways.”

“You need a ride?” he checked his watch.

“I don’t live far,” you waved him off, “but I always appreciate the offer.”

He nodded and frowned, “and if… if I didn’t want to be alone? Would you grab a burger with me? Have you eaten?”

“Not since lunch, I, uh… I guess it couldn’t hurt,” you said.

“You gotta be up early?”

“Nah, not too early.”

“What do you do? I mean, outside of this?” he turned and directed you to his car.

“Data entry,” you sighed, “it’s not very exciting but I work remotely and the pay is decent and I still have time for the kids.”

“It’s a living,” he said as the door locks clicked and you grabbed the handle, “no judgment. Trust me, being a lawyer, it’s really not as glamourous as it seems.”

🖤

Andy’s routine changed. He came around every Thursday and listened. After a few weeks, the kids figured out who he was. They didn’t treat him any differently and even invited him to join in on the teambuilding games you arranged. He wasn’t bad help as you welcomed a few new members from the group home.

That night, you weren’t feeling great. Even the kids hadn’t helped much. You were exhausted and nauseous. You blamed it on the late night shawarma. You said goodbye to the kids and packed up. Andy stacked the chairs without you asking, even when you told him not to.

You leaned heavily on the table and checked your phone before slipping it into your bag. You wiped your forehead and shivered. Some gravol, ginger ale, and sleep would be your indulgence that night.

“You okay?” Andy asked.

“Stomach thing,” you rubbed your middle, “nothing major.”

“You don’t look great,” he said, “well, I don’t mean it like-- are you sure--”

“Oh, gee,” you slid past him and out the door.

You ran to the restroom across the hall and into a stall. You wretched and the acid seared your throat. The bile bubbled in the toilet water and you shuddered. You heaved a few more times and rinsed your mouth in the sink.

Andy was waiting for you in the hall, “let me drive you tonight,” he insisted, “even if it’s just a block away.”

“I can’t even say no,” you grumbled as he handed you your purse.

“What’s wrong? You eat something?”

“I think,” you groaned as he held the door open and the cool air outside chilled the sweat on your neck, “urgh, I hope it’s only that.”

You got to his car and fell heavily into the seat. You slumped against the console as he started the car. He paused as the engine idled and felt your forehead. He nudged you back against the seat and turned his hand to press the back of his fingers to your cheek.

“You got a fever,” he said, “I don’t think it’s food poisoning.”

“Oh, those kids carry bugs like rats,” you muttered, “just take me home, I’ll get over it.”

He pulled out of his spot and you closed your eyes. You leaned against the window, frigid against your forehead and hugged yourself. You dozed off before he even turned out of the lot, the belt keeping you from folding over entirely.

🖤

You woke up between fresh linen. The sunlight was soft in its early hues. It wasn't your bed. You rolled onto your side and your stomach ached from how empty it was. You pushed back the thick duvet, you were sweating. You didn't remember more than the car ride and a few fuzzy glimpses of the bottom of a bucket. 

You were cold again and pulled the blanket back. The door was open and Andy filled it as if he'd heard your grumbles. He stood at the bottom of the bed in a pair of plaid pants and a blue tee.

"Why am I here?" You asked. 

"You fell asleep. You're sick. I couldn't just leave you outside your building," he said, "how are you feeling?"

"Bad," you replied curtly, "I can go," you sat up, "stop by the pharmacy, go hide in my own bed."

"You should stay here," he insisted, "just until the fever breaks."

"Really… ugh," you moaned as your belly clenched, "Andy, I should--"

"Lay down?" He came around and caught your shoulder, "I used to call in sometimes when Jacob was home sick. When he was a lot younger and… I stir up a man cup of noodles."

"You don't have to--"

"It's completely selfish," he interrupted, "it's been a long time since I had someone to take care of or at least it feels like it."

You were light-headed as you tried to stand but he kept you from getting to your feet, "I guess I can stay a little longer."

"Don't act like I don't owe you," he tutted, "now relax. I'll get you some soup. You need something in your system. I got some anti-nausea pills in the cupboard, too."

"Thanks but you don't owe me anything. I'm gonna owe you big."

"Why don't we just call it even then," he backed up, "seeing as that's my bed and my couch, it's really not made for sleeping." He stretched his arms and his shoulders cracked, "especially at my age."

🖤

You stayed another night. You tried to convince Andy to let you take the couch instead but he was a lawyer and rarely lost an argument. It was easier to eat by the evening but you were still dizzy and you couldn't stop yawning. You'd never been so tired.

Despite your uneasiness at overstaying your welcome, you slept more heavily than before. Your guilt didn't keep you awake for long as you sank into a deep sleep and you woke slowly, a murmur escaping your lips as grogginess weighed you down. You were still so very tired but it was already morning.

You stretched and your wrist caught. You winced and tugged at your arm. You sat up in horror as you stared at the metal cuff attached to the hoop drilled into the headboard. You tugged until your arm hurt and your hand throbbed. What the fuck.

"Andy! Andy! What--"

"Shhhhh," Andy hushed you as he entered, "it's okay, you're okay."

"No, I'm not. What did you do?" You pulled again and the metal pinched your skin.

"You're going to hurt yourself," he said calmly.

"Unlock it. Let me go," you struggled as you kicked off the blankets, "Andy, what the fuck?"

"Hey, don't talk like that. It's...nasty."

"I don't understand," you began to pant, "why are you doing this?"

The panic crawled like tendrils up your neck and back. You twisted and pulled but the metal cuff didn't budge. You felt the bed shift and Andy grabbed your shoulder. He forced you down, pinning your other hand beside your head.

"I'm taking care of you," he said, "don't be so ungrateful."

"I can take care of myself. Let me go, please."

"No, you need me," he snarled, "like I need you."

"Andy, you're wrong--"

"Stop!" He covered your mouth, "stop! You don't know what you need. Now be still. Be quiet." He squeezed until your jaw hurt, "don't make this difficult."

He slowly lifted his hand and you didn’t move. You stared at his hand then looked at his face. There was a desperate anger in the depths of his oceanic eyes. He sat back and his jaw clenched as he watched you.

"I'm going to make breakfast. Be good. You need to eat." He backed off the bed and went to the door, "I mean it."

He left you and you listened until pans clinked and clanged in the kitchen below. You folded your thumb against your palm and tried to wiggle free of the cuff. It was too tight. There was only one other way out and you couldn't do it alone.

"HELP! HELP! SOMEONE PLEASE!" You screamed, "someone help me!"

The footsteps hammered up the stairs and Andy stormed in. He grabbed you and clamped his hand over your mouth again.

"Listen, no one can hear you, you got that? Windows are soundproof, but I really don't want to hear it so it's up to you if I gag you."

You blinked and your lip trembled against his hand. Your eyes rounded and you nodded stiffly. He tore his hand away and sighed as he clapped his hands on his legs in frustration.

"Good," he said quietly, "now, let's just hope," he stood and strode to the door, "that the bacon didn't burn."

🖤

You fell asleep again shortly after eating, even with the adrenaline and panic surging through your veins. You woke again in the afternoon. Your limbs were heavy but the fever was gone and your stomach felt better but you were still terribly tired. 

Andy was there. He had a leather file in his lap as he looked over papers and scratched his beard. He sensed your movement and looked over at you.

"Hungry?" He asked, "you slept through lunch."

"No," you smelled your sweat on the duvet, "but… can I have a shower? I haven't...since I got here."

"A shower?" He closed the folder and stood. He set it down and pursed his lips as he thought. "Fifteen minutes," he said as he dug around in his pocket, "I'll be here."

He unlocked the cuff and you rubbed your wrist as you sat up. He stayed close as you rose and stayed between you and the bedroom door as he pointed you to the bathroom.

"I don't have much for you to wear yet but you can take another one of my shirts," he said.

You nodded and closed the door between you. You closed your eyes and pressed yourself to the wind. How was this the same man that you spoke to that day at the cemetery?

🖤

He slept beside you that night. You were on your side, your arm bound again by the cuff with the pillow between it and your head. You were uncomfortable, more so with him against your back. He wore only a pair of boxers. You shied away when he undressed and never looked at him again.

You dozed despite your nerves. You couldn't shake the drowsiness. You just felt more and more tired. When you opened your eyes, his arm was around you. He ran his fingers over your stomach, fingers crawling beneath the baggy tee shirt. You shivered and he nuzzled the back of your neck.

"I was thinking… well, I've been thinking for a while now, how happy we could be," he said, "I'm still young enough to try again, do it right and you… you're young, ready." His hand brushed up to your chest and he cupped your tit, "you're kind, you're caring, you're...beautiful. You’re my second chance."

“Andy,” your voice was brittle as your pulse beat furiously, “what you’re doing, it’s not right. You need to let me go.”

He went rigid and his hand stopped. He unsnaked his arm from around you and the springs coiled as he fell heavily onto his back. In the silence, you could only hear his steady breaths and a low growl.

“No, I’m helping you,” he said, “like you’ve helped me.”

“Andy, please,” you eased onto your back and looked over at him, “this isn’t how you fix this.”

“How do I?” he snarled, “huh? How? You don’t know!” he sat up and glared down at you, “you can’t know.”

“You think hurting me is helping me? That’s what you’re doing.”

“No, no, no,” he bent his legs as he grasped his head and gripped it as if it would crack, “No! I haven’t hurt you. I feed you, I keep you clean, I… I take care of you!”

“Andy,” you reached over shakily and touched his bare shoulder, “this isn’t what I want and I know you don’t want it either. You want someone who really loves you--”

“You love me!” he turned so quickly you yelped. He gripped your jaw tightly as he held himself against you, “you love me,��� he pressed his lips to yours and you murmured in surprise, “you love me,” it was a maddened chant as he pulled back, “...love me.”

“And--”

His hand flew up to smother you and he lifted himself over you. His knees pressed to your legs until they parted and his other hand explored your curves through the rumpled cotton. You squeaked and tensed against his touch, your wrist chafing from the cuff.

“Shhh,” he hushed as he pushed the shirt up.

He kept his hand on your mouth as he slid down your body and left a trail of kisses along your torso as he unveiled it. He bunched the tee above your chest and bent to dote on your tits. You shuddered and pushed on his head as you mumbled into his palm.

His fingers tickled along your side and hooked into the side of the drawstring shorts he gave you. He tugged until the string snapped and edged them down as he continued to tend to your chest. You kicked around him and felt his bulge as he leaned into you.

He ripped his hand away and sat up. He grabbed the waist of the shorts and wrenched them down your legs, quickly taking his between them again. You wriggled and batted out at his chest as his thumbs pressed against your hip bones and his hands crept down to knead your thighs.

“I can start again,” he brushed his fingers down your vee and you trembled as they danced along your cunt.

“No, Andy, please, you can still stop--”

“Shhhh, honey,” he pushed between your folds and you gasped, “it’s okay. I’ll still take care of you,” he glided over your cunt and made you twitch, “and the baby.”

He poked along your entrance and you whined helplessly as you reached to the cuff and pulled with both arms. Every muscles in your strained as you tried to break free of the headboard. He pushed a finger inside of you and you cried out.

“Andy, stop, please, no--”

He added another finger and slipped them in and out of you as he purred. You looked at his face and it sent a chill through you. His eyes were dark and clung to the movement of his hand, his brow set and his jaw squared with his intent. He wasn’t the grieving widower, he wasn’t the man lost and lonely, he was a monster.

“That’s it,” he turned his hand and flicked your clit with his thumb, “you want me. I feel it.”

You looked away as your wetness spread to his knuckles and along your folds. He kept his thumb moved as he curled his fingers inside of you and the pressure built as the tip of his touch. You gritted your teeth and shook your head helplessly.

“No,” you whispered, “no, no, no…”

He took his hand away suddenly and you felt empty. He lifted himself on his knees and rolled down his boxers. You didn’t look at him, you couldn’t, you only saw the silhouette of his nudity.

He pushed your thighs apart and spread himself over you, his elbow just beside you as he felt around between your bodies. His hot breath grazed your cheek and he kissed it firmly as he angled his tip between your folds. Your thighs clenched around him in a futile act of resistance as he found your entrance.

He pushed inside slowly and brought his other arm up beside you. He forced your head straight and you squeezed your eyes shut. He cradled your head between his hands and his lips brushed yours as he spoke, “open your eyes. Look at me.”

“Andy,” you murmured as he slowly got deeper, “please--”

“Look at me,” he demanded, “look at me!”

Your eyes snapped open and met his stormy blue ones. He bucked his hips and impaled you completely. You exclaimed and grasped his thick bicep in shock, your other hand balled above the cuff. Your legs bent around his thick thighs as you tried to stop him.

“God, you feel so good,” he purred as he began to rock, “don’t I feel good too?”

Your lashes fluttered away the rising tears and you sucked your lip in to keep from making a sound. You could look away as he held your head straight, his hand clamping around your jaw as he other arm bent beneath yours.

The room echoed with the noise of his flesh slapping yours as he sped up, his grunts and groans interlaced with the sickening symphony. You quivered as his pelvis rubbed against yours and stoked the heat in your core. You could not hold back the illicit response of your body as he ravaged it.

Your breath grew heavier and he gulped it down as he kissed you again, forcing his tongue between your lips as he devoured you. The whole bed moved in time with your body and the headboard knocked against the wall as his thrusts came closer and closer together and he buried himself as deep as he could with each tilt of his hips.

He drew his mouth away and pressed his cheek to yours as his muscles tensed and he puffed into the pillow, “this is it, honey. It all starts here.”

“Ah, please…” your voice fizzled and smothered your moan against his shoulder as your body spasmed. Your legs bent around him firmly as you orgasmed and your body arched beneath his desperately.

“That’s it,” he cooed, “that’s it. You take me so well. See… it was meant to… be.”

His breaths grew more rampant with his rhythm. His hand slipped down to cradle your cheek and his thumb stroked your flesh tenderly as he dipped into you over and over. His deep groans grew louder around you. He jerked into you sharply and his motion stuttered. He gripped your hip and held you down as he sheathed himself in your walls. 

He quaked as his hips slowed and he flooded you. He exhaled and as his lungs emptied, the strength left him entirely and he lowered himself over you weakly. His body pressed yours into the mattress, your sweat and his turned sticky as the air settled over you.

He stayed like that for what felt like forever. He moved slowly to lift himself up and he sat back, watching his dick slide out of you. Your thighs shook as your legs splayed around him. You felt his cum leak from you and he dragged his fingers along your cunt and scooped it back into you, coating his fingers in as he pushed them past your entrance once more. He smiled at the wet sounds of your cunt.

“That felt like the one,” he said, “but we can try again...”

He pulled his fingers out of you and admired the slickness that glistened over them. He reached down and gripped his dick, half-soft and spent. He winced as he began to stroke himself and let out stifled moans between his teeth.

“Maybe this time,” he purred as he angled himself inside of you again and lifted your legs against his torso. He bit his lips as he trembled, his cock oversensitive and overworked, “as many times as it takes, honey.”

[mangofetts]

star wars filthy headcanons

NSFW UNDER THE CUT!!

din djarin

HUGE breeding kink. this man loves to fill you to the brim. every mandalorian learns from a young age about the resol’nare and he wants to fulfill his duty as best he can. on the subject of this, he cums a lot, like an unhealthy amount. this comes from the mando race in general.

big bondage fan. loves to use the binders on you or tie you up with rope. he uses the magnetic binders so he can pin your hands above you and keep them there without him constantly making sure they’re there. also helps him relax and make sure that you don’t make any moves to take off his helmet while he’s not paying attention (not that you would, but he likes to make sure). he also likes pinning you with his body. loves gagging you as well.

cum play. since his load is big, it doesn’t stay in you for long so he likes to go back in with his fingers and plug your cunt so no more comes out. he loves facials and/or cumming on your chest, belly, and thighs. something about that just drives him crazy, seeing you marked with him. he also scoops the cum up and feeds it to you or even rubs it into your skin like it’s oil for a massage (he’ll clean you up real good if he does that don’t worry ;))

gun play. he likes when you’re helpless under him with his blaster to your forehead as he tells you to not move or make any noise. there have beens times where he fucks you on his blaster and makes you suck all your juices off of it. HE ALWAYS MAKES SURE THE CHAMBER IS EMPTY AND THE SAFETY IS ON BEFORE HE DOES THIS. he does not want to hurt you unless you want it and he would never shoot you.

control and authority kink. he likes to have control over you. likes to pull your strings and make you do whatever he says. even better if you’re a brat, he’ll just have to be rougher with you.

a dom/sub relationship, with you being the sub most of the time. you guys use a lot of bdsm elements. you don’t call him any names in bed unless he wants you to. it’s either mando or din.

cockwarming!! he likes to make sure that his cum stays inside of you and he likes the feeling of you around him.

praise kink both ways. he likes to praise you for taking him so well, for listening to him. and he likes to be praised because he wants to know what he’s doing is good. he’s been deprived of praise since he was little (the mandalorians are proud of him, just never showed it) so he needs it when he’s with you.

paz vizsla

once again, huge breeding kink for the same reasons as din. he also just loves kids and would like to have his own clan instead of looking after other foundlings. he also cums an inhuman amount.

DADDY KINK. he loves being your daddy in bed, especially when you’re nice and desperate for him. this also has to do with the breeding kink, just all around big daddy vibes.

body worship. people are often afraid of him and he blames it on how big he is. sometimes he needs someone to tell him he’s not frightening. he loves doing to same for you, complimenting you endlessly if you need some pick-me-ups or if he’s just in the mood (which is literally all the time.

cockwarming. after filling you up, he likes to clean you up, and then put his soft cock back inside of you so his cum stays inside of you. will usually end up in morning sex.

praise kink. he LOVES being praised by you. telling him that he’s so good, that he’s absolutely beautiful, and that he’s strong makes him PREEN. he tries to return the favor by praising you, but he stammers and stutters it out because he’s not used to saying stuff like that out loud.

size kink. this man is 6’3”, almost 6’6” with his armor on. he loves smaller people because they’re tiny and fragile and he could just crush them in the palm of his hand. he is THICK. 100% GRASS FED BEEF MY GUY. big tiddies, big arms, big guy in general. he is very blessed under the belt, his cock is inhumanly big. he likes to hold you down and make you take it. likes to watch you take it too. if you want to drive him crazy, make it look like you are absolutely struggling to take him; any form of that will make him keen. tell him that his cock is too big for you, that’s he’s so big and that he’s going to split you in half. he will break you and you won’t be able to walk for days.

definitely a voyeur. he likes watching you pleasure yourself. he also likes being watched, even more than you’d think.

likes when you play hard to get. like he’s a predator and your his pray. alas you won’t run very far, his legs are longer than yours, but it’s what he does that makes it worth it.

boba fett

control kink, this is pretty obvious. notorious bounty hunter. he likes having complete control over you. this leads into his bondage kink.

bondage, also likes using the binders on you, no rope though, just the binders. he likes to watch you struggles and they make pretty bruises on your wrists and ankles.

likes to mark you up, make sure everyone knows that you’re his. he doesn’t want to lose his baby now does he? bites and bruises all over your body from his mouth, hands, and sometimes his boots if you’re into that.

spanking as well, he likes to make sure that you stay in your place. he doesn’t like a brat; he knows how to tame one though!!

gunplay FOR THE WIN. likes to hold the gun to your head while he fucks you, sometimes puts it in your mouth. he likes to fuck you with it and make you suck the barrel of it off. LIKE I SAID BEFORE HE MAKES SURE THAT THE CHAMBER IS EMPTY AND THAT THE SAFETY IS ONE. also likes using vibroblades on you too.

likes to slap and pull your hair.

HE CANNOT BE GENTLE AT THE BEGINNING OF YOUR RELATIONSHIP. you have to sit him down and explain/convince him to take some scenes slow. once he gets the hang of it he likes slow sex. likes to revel in the pleasure.

definitely likes to tease. he likes seeing you desperate. loves keeping you wrapped around his finger.

darth maul

breeding kink, he wants you to get pregnant SO BAD. he really wants kids of his own. he LOVES coming in you and plugging your cunt with a toy.

cockwarming. something about having his cock in you relaxes him immensely. he likes having you in his lap while he works and you sleep (or squirm).

likes to sub AND dom. he likes being fucked and fucking. ruling mandalore is hard and sometimes he needs to give someone else control. usually the scene is you fucking him with your cock, or you fucking him with your hole. either way is a great time for him.

likes to hurt you, but only if you like it. most of it is lightsaber play and knife play. he likes watching you scream and writhe under him. one time he used the saber to carve his initials on your thigh. another way he likes to hurt you is digging his sharp horns into your inner thigh while he’s eating you out. he likes watching you flinch away from him.

praise kink. he is not what people picture when they think of a handsome man. so whenever you praise him is a nice time for him.

MASTER KINK. he likes being called this, it’s like he has an apprentice even though palpatine told him he was incapable of having one.

likes collars and harnesses. he likes letting people know that you’re his. plus your chest looks amazing in those harnessses.

DIRTY TALK AND PET NAMES. this man is one smooth motherfucker. he’ll call you princess/prince, baby, kitten, darling, sweetheart. he will whisper dirty things to you, just to get you riled up.

kylo ren/ben solo

the biggest dom AND sub you will ever see. he likes being fucked and fucking.

pain kink, if he’s subbing, he likes when you pull his hair, cut him with his pocket knife, burn him with his own lightsaber, or even you stepping on his dick. not too hard, you don’t want to damage his goods, but hard enough for it to be slightly painful. the thrill of it all makes him blow his load HARD. if he has any open wounds he likes to press on them so more blood comes out + it’s painful. scenes like these usually end with a short trip to the medbay. if he’s domming he will not hurt you, not even superficially. most of the pain comes from him pulling your hair and pushing you to your knees harshly.

praise kink. after everything that’s happened, he definitely wants some soft loving sometimes. he likes giving and receiving praise!! although it takes him a bit to get the words out since he never says those things out loud anywhere else.

also kind of has a master kink, but prefers to hear his name over that.

he takes almost all of his stress out in your sessions so he’s nice a pliable after a good fuck or two.

aftercare is HIGH TIER. he has a nice bed, you like to stretch out on it while he gets you a glass of water and a warm wet towel to clean you up. usually some back rubs as well.

he loves being degraded. being told that his dick is too small, or that he’s a slut, or even that he’s nothing gets him going like nothing else. any insults you throw at him will be met with a groan or a keen if it’s especially mean.

can absolutely go more than one round. his stamina IS CRAZY.

these are off of the top of my head lol

[writings-of-a-british-fangirl]

A Lesson In Mando’a [Din Djarin x Reader]

Title: A Lesson In Mando'a Summary: You'd been a bounty hunter most of your life; you were use to sleeping rough, fighting for your life, the harsh realities of life. What you weren't use to was the soft feelings of comfort, the warmth of a family. Warnings: Like one swear word I think ? Request: N/A

A/N: I posted this about half an hour ago, but it wasn’t showing up in the tags, so hopefully this one does! 

A/N 2: Let me know if you have any other Din or Star Wars requests!

PART 1: A Lesson In Mando’a PART 2: A Lesson In Tradition PART 3: A Lesson In Touch

Din Djarin~A Lesson In Mando'a

Despite not fully understanding 'the Way', you had come to respect it. You particularly admired (almost envied) the beskar armour that came with it. It was certainly one of the better perks that came with being a Mandalorian. That, and the instant fear reaction most had whenever the Mandalorian walked into the room. Din (you had recently learned that was 'Mando's' real name) was quite a character as he strode into any cantina. He drew the attention of many patrons that occupied the bar, whether they chose to avert their eyes or stare at him. His shiny new beskar, along with the menacing helmet, was quite a sight to behold.

         And, yet, you found yourself -on more than one occasion- staring at the Mandalorian with admiration... Affection almost. You knew it wasn't allowed. It wasn't compatible with Din's lifestyle, nor yours; it didn't make any sense, logically. On the surface, you knew that, but deep down you longed for a connection with the Mandalorian, one that served as more than a business deal, or an alliance of convenience. For a while, you had tried to asses Din's feelings about you.

        At first, you were pretty sure he hated you: you did, after all, steal a bounty from him. It wasn't your fault that both your employer at the time and the guild he worked for had given you the same target, and it certainly wasn't your fault you were faster. As soon as you had caught the target, you were out of there: you knew of the Mandalorian's reputation, and you were smart enough to not want to fight him head to head. You didn't get to meet Din face to face until you had both been in the same town, both being hunting down by the Imps. You'd helped him escape them directly, and he'd offered you a lift in his ship, the Razor Crest. And, then you met his son... And, kind of never left.

        You'd intended just to leave as soon as you can, to be dropped off at the next planet. You didn't want to over stay your welcome; your companion didn't seem like the type to host company. Though, if you were being honest, you didn't think he'd be the type to have a child either. He was cute: the child. And, while you didn't have many parental feelings, you had to admit the little green gremlin was pulling on your heart strings.

        You sat in one of the chairs in the cock pit, with Din in the main front one flying. You suspected he'd put you there so he could keep an eye on you. And, while you couldn't blame him, you did start to feel tired. Did this ship even have beds? It didn't seem like a traditional living vehicle, definitely not built for comfort. Your eyes scanned around the cockpit, wondering if you could sneak down to the hull and take a nap there. While your eyes were wandering around, you spotted something out of the corner of your eye: the child. You smiled at him as he gazed a you. He turned his head slightly, his ears flopping to one side. The child looked curiously at you: you were a stranger, and you doubted he'd interacted with many people besides the Mandalorian. He seemed quite protective over the kid.

        Before you could realise what was happening, the child had wandered towards you and was reaching up at you. You hesitated for a second before picking him up. You didn't want to offend Din by over stepping any boundaries, but who could say no to those big, pleading eyes.

        You held him carefully, gently placing him in your lap, being mindful of how small he is.

        "He seems to like you," Din murmured.

        You jumped, a little bit startled; you'd be trapped in the moment, your eyes trained on the child. He smiled up at you, enjoying being held, and the feeling of warmth. You imagined your robes were much more comfortable than the beskar.

        "Huh, I'm usually not good with kids, but he is a cutie," you smile up at the Mandalorian, "Is this what you look like under the helmet?"

        You feel him tense up.

        "Sorry I didn't mean offense by it," you pause, pursing your lips.

        "No, its fine. Not too many people make jokes with me, that's all," he reassured.

        "Well, no offence, you don't seem like the joking type," you shrug, "Or, maybe, who knows: you might be laughing under there all the time and just nobody can tell."

        "Yeah, I'm the life of the party," Din dead panned.

        You chuckled a little, and although you didn't know it at the time, Din's heart skipped a beat. 'That was weird,' Din thought, 'That's never happened before...' He tried to bury it, hide the thought away, as he did with a lot of his emotions. This one, however, seemed to stick around.

        And, so did you.

        It had been a few months since you'd joined him. Originally, you offered to help on jobs, fix the ship, take care of the child, whatever he wanted- to repay him for stealing his bounty. Well, that's what you told yourself. Originally, you believed you were in his debt, but over time you grew more and more fond of his company- and the child of course. He was adorable, and he offered a light distraction from the chaos the universe seemed to be in. Not to mention, your growing affection for the Mandalorian was keeping you pleasantly occupied.

~~~

Din was off hunting a bounty. Usually, you'd go with him, but he had insisted it would be an easy job. Besides, you weren't going to fight him on this: you liked spending time with the kid, and it'd give you some time to catch up on your sleep. The Crest wasn't the most comfortable place to sleep, and you always felt slightly on edge because the Mandalorian practically slept battle ready. It was the perfect excuse to have a rest day- those came few and far between.

        The Razor Crest was parked safely in a remote location, with all security measured engaged. You told yourself it would only be a small nap. Besides, the kid was tired too. You'd fed him recently, and he always napped after food. If he was tired, you might as well sleep beside him- for his comfort, of course.

        Originally, you were going to put him to bed in the little make shift cot Din had made for him, but you figured he'd be just as comfortable in your arms. You made your way up to the cock pit. It was nightfall, and the stars visible from this planet were quite a sight to behold. Gently, you held the child and began explaining to him all the different star constellations, and what they meant. You weren't sure he understood basic, but the way he looked up at you, and then to the stars, you figured he was understanding something.

        "And, this one," you pointed out a large cluster of stars, "Is called 'The Warrior', just like your daddy, little one. That one is 'The Queen,' and this one-"

        You stopped yourself. The kid had finally fallen asleep. You gently wrapped the blanket around both of you, and leaned back into the chair. Within a couple of minutes, your eyes had drooped, and sleep had overcome you. Before you completely drifted off, you had one thing on your mind: you hoped you would see your dear Mandalorian soon.

~~~

When the bounty hunter turned dad returned from his latest outing, he was tired. He threw the bounty into carbonite, and trudged further up the ship. It was only after he'd had a moment to breathe, that he realised there was no sign of you- or the child. His heart began to race. He opened the closet, praying to find the child inside a sleep.

        He didn't.

        Fuck. This was bad. He should've never left the child- what if he was hurt now? What if you were? Surely, you hadn't taken the child. You wouldn't do that to him... Would you?

        His last resort before tearing apart the place was to check the cock pit. Logically, he knew you could be up there, but you usually spent most of your time in the hull. That's where your bed was, where the food was, where the child usually played. That's where he thought you'd be.

        Din climbed up the ladder, keeping an eye out in case anything had happened to you or the child- in case it was a trap. Instead of any sign of the Imps, droids, or guild interference, he saw your sleeping body. In your arms, was the child. Din pulled himself up and landed as quietly as he could, so as to not disturb you. He watched you for a second; you looked so peaceful, and so well rested. He was envious. His eyes dropped down to the child; he was curled into your body, with his fingers gently wrapped around your thumb. He was softly snoring, almost purring as he slept. Din took one step forward, but his armour boot clanked against the floor a little too loudly. The child perked up; his ears flinched at the sound, and he woke up. When he saw it was Din, he cooed for him, and began to wriggle in your arms.

        The Mandalorian stepped forward, and reached for the kid. You began to wake as well.

        "D-Din?" you ask, eyes fluttering open, and when you registered it was him, you sat up, "You're back!"

        You then registered that the baby was trying to wiggle out of your grasp. Adjusting your grip on him, you lifted the child up and offered him over to Din.

        "Sorry little guy, did you want to go back to your daddy?" you asked, and the baby cooed in response, "Here you go."

        Din gently took the child from you and held him close.

        "How was it? An easy job?" you asked.

        He was lost in thought. About you, about the child, about his new found family. His heart had fluttered when you had called him daddy. Well, it wasn't technically you, but he felt it in his heart nonetheless. He had been feeling that a lot around you lately: especially when you held the child. It almost felt like he had... Like he had a family. Din hadn't known what that felt like for a long time. Sure, he had the fellow Mandalorians, but they offered no affection like you did. He didn't feel as warm around them as he did with you. He-

        You were still expecting answer. Your smile dazed him.

        "Yes it was, cyar'ika," he murmured, looking down at his son, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you missed my company"

        "Maybe," you smiled, "The child did at least."

        That was enough, for now.

        Din was about to turn around and go back down the hull, when you spoke up again.

        "Din, you keeping calling me... Ah, c-cyr-"

        "Cyar'ika?"

        "Yes, that!" you pause, "What does it mean?"

        "Oh that," Din could feel his face heat up behind the mask (which he was very thankful for at this moment, other wise he feared he'll die of embarrassment from the deep blush on his face), "I- Ur, it means... It's Mando'a for beloved."

        "Oh," you felt your face heat up, "I-"

        "-I can stop if it makes you feel uncomfortable-"

        "-No! No, I... I like it."

        It wasn't quite a full admission of your feelings, but for now... For now, you were happy. With Din, with the child: with your family.

[sithsecrets]

rumors | din djarin x reader

A bit of gossip gets under your skin, but Din shows you that it's all a bunch of lies.

---

4k words

mentions: VERY EXPLICIT SMUT, fem!reader, a bit of harassment at the beginning, self-doubt, establishing a relationship, discussions about relationship dynamics, din tells reader his name

---

You know you’re in for trouble the minute two Guild Members sidle up next to you at the bar, shit-eating grins plastered on both of their faces.

They greet you and the baby with a kind of fake friendliness that makes your skin crawl, and not for the first time do you wonder what’s taking Mando and Greef so fucking long. The two men usually do business in under ten minutes, five if Mando can manage it, but of course today is the one day they decide to shoot the shit and pal around like old friends.

“So you’re Mando’s crew member, huh?” asks one of the bounty hunters, light eyes glinting mischievously as he leans in. “What’s he paying you these days anyway? Because I’d be happy to double his rate if it meant getting to have something as pretty as you around me all the time.”

“Ten percent,” you answer, choosing to ignore that last little comment, “and I’m perfectly okay with that.”

“That’s not bad,” Blue Eyes’ friend answers, brushing back a lock of his greasy hair with a smirk. “But what does that fee cover? You just a nanny for whatever the fuck that is,” he gestures to the Child in your lap, “or do you provide Mando with other services as well?”

On your left, Blue Eyes lets out a snicker, and Stringy Hair seems pleased with himself. You huff and roll your eyes, not at all in the mood for this shit.

“I take care of the baby and the ship, and I pilot the Crest from time to time.”

“You hear that, man? She’s a pilot and a maid!”

“Three guesses as to what she gives a good spit shine every night,” and then the two of them are absolutely cracking up, snickering behind their glasses as they toss back a round. They’re just mocking you now, so desperately trying to get a reaction, and you’re horrified by how it’s almost working. You don’t want to give them the satisfaction, but if they so much as—

“Everything alright over here?”

Mando’s voice is like a bucket of cold water down your back, startling you so badly that you almost fall off your barstool. The baby lets out a shriek of surprise, and you rush to make sure he’s secure in your arms before you turn around.

“Just fine,” you lie, rushing to get up. “We were just talking about your latest bounty.”

Stringy Hair and Blue Eyes don’t move to correct you, much more subdued now that Mando’s arrived on the scene. They greet him with respect, but he hardly gives the two dickheads a passing glance.

“We need to get back,” Mando tells you, and you’ve never been so glad to hear those words.

You nod, and then the three of you are trekking back to the Crest in silence. Mando goes up the cockpit immediately once you arrive, off to punch in the coordinates for his next quarry. Apparently Greef’s given him some kind of special assignment, so they journey to the next planet will be a long one.

The Crest lurches into hyperspace within minutes of takeoff, and you try to settle in for the evening, putting the baby down for the night, getting ready for bed yourself. The Child sleeps like a rock, but you aren’t so fortunate, tossing and turning in your little bed. It’s the conversation with those two assholes from earlier that’s got you so restless, their words playing over and over again in your head on loop. You don’t know why what they said bothers you, but it does. It bothers you a lot, in fact, mostly because they weren’t entirely wrong.

Everything you told Blue Eyes and Stringy Hair is true— Mando cuts you in ten percent on his bounties, and in exchange, you take care of the baby, maintain the ship (its living spaces and its mechanics, thank you very much), and you pilot the Crest from time to time when asked. But… But you’ve also fucked Mando before. Twice. Three times if you count the blowjob you gave him last week, but you’re not entirely sure that fits under the definition of “fucking.” Regardless of the details, you’ve had sexual contact with the Mandalorian— this is a fact. Mando’s never directly offered you money in return for sex, but it’s not like he didn’t just pay you your cut of his bounty less than an hour ago. And if those two pigs from the cantina could peg you at fifty yards, Maker knows what everybody else is thinking. Greef, Cara, even Peli on Tatooine— all of them must think you’re just Mando’s whore, right along with the rest of the Guild.

The idea of this weighs heavy on your mind, two parts of you waging an internal war. Your rational side says that you shouldn’t care what other people think of you— you’re a grown woman approaching thirty, and what you do with your body and your time is no one’s business but your own. The side of you that yearns to be accepted, however, worries that everyone’s secretly laughing at your behind your back, that they all think very little of you because of what you’ve done. And how could you blame them? You’ve let your employer fuck you twice, and all without him showing you an ounce of affection otherwise. Just thinking about it makes you feel remorseful, anxiety twisting in your stomach as you toss and turn in bed. And to make things worse, a third voice emerges in your mind, one that’s small and timid and raw. This little part of you wonders what Mando thinks of all this— it wonders what Mando thinks of you. You feel sick the minute it occurs to you, the notion that Mando could think nothing of you as well. Everyone else can say whatever they want, you suppose, if Mando still respects you at the end of the day. If he still cares for you at the end of the day…

After a whole hour, you decide that you won’t be sleeping until you get all of this sorted out. You’re almost shaking with anxiety as you approach the ladder, but you climb up to the cockpit anyway, calling out Mando’s name with a wavering voice. He says you can come in, and so you do, padding into the little space on socked feet.

“Everything okay?” Mando asks, vaguely distracted as he looks through holoimages on the display before him. You catch snatches of the same alien being in each one— Mando’s next quarry, no doubt.

“Yeah,” you say softly. “The baby’s asleep. He went down well tonight.”

Mando hums. “Good.”

“I, um. I’m having trouble sleeping, though, and I was hoping we could talk.”

Mando doesn’t look away from the holoimages as he speaks to you. “What about?”

You balk for a moment, gathering courage. “Us.”

Finally, it would seem you have Mando’s full attention. He shuts off the display and turns his chair until it faces you, the blue light of hyperspace reflecting off his armor and helmet. You grow shy under Mando’s gaze as you so often do, but you force yourself to be brave anyway. You can’t go on like this— you have to know.

“Us?” Mando echoes, titling his helmet just the slightest bit forward. You nod, and he straightens up again, regarding you. “What about us?”

“The sex,” you say slowly, “or, more specifically, why we had sex in the first place.”

“We had sex because we wanted to,” Mando says at once, and you just want to scream. He won’t make this easy on you, will he?

“Right, of course, but… but what made you want to come at me like that? Do you just like my body and how I look, or is it because you pay me—?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Mando cuts, losing all semblance of cool indifference in one fell swoop, “you don’t— Please don’t tell me that you think having sex with me is part of your job.”

“I don’t, I don’t!” you declare, rushing to prevent a miscommunication before it happens. “I just— I just wasn’t sure why you wanted me of all people, and I met some people today that thought you hired me just so you could fuck me or whatever. They—”

“Was it those two fuckheads from the cantina?” Mando asks, tone absolutely murderous, and all you can do is nod. “What exactly did they say?”

“They asked me about my pay and about what’s ‘included in my fee,’” you reply, face burning at the thought of what Stringy Hair and Blue Eyes said at the bar. “They said you were probably paying me for sex the way you pay me to take care of the ship and the baby. It just… It made me self-conscious because we have had sex, and I wasn’t sure what that meant. I know they’re just assholes, but now I’m afraid everybody thinks that of me, especially Cara and Greef and your other friends.”

Mando lets out a long, heavy sigh. “Come here,” he says, beckoning you over with an outstretched hand. You hesitate to move, shocked by the gesture, and the Mandalorian repeats himself. “Come here, cyar’ika, please.”

The beskar is cold against the back of your thighs, but you settle in Mando’s lap anyway, sure you must be dreaming at this point. He fingers the hem of your long, baggy sleepshirt, one arm holding you securely.

“None of my friends think you’re fucking me for money,” Mando begins, “I promise. Those guys from the Guild you met today, they’re assholes just like you said. They might treat their women that way, but that’s not me. It never will be. Understand?”

You nod shyly, relishing in the way Mando begins drawing little circles at the base of your spine.

“Good. Now to answer your question… I had sex with you because I wanted to, yes, but it wasn’t just to get off. The baby likes you, and you do a good job taking care of the ship. People like you wherever we go… Ilike being around you.”

You’re smart enough to know that that’s a big statement coming from a man like Mando, and you reward him for this display of vulnerability with a soft smile.

“I like being around you too, Mando.”

The helmet tilts just the slightest bit, and you wonder what his expression looks like under the beskar.

“I like being around you,” Mando repeats, speaking slowly, “and… and I’m sorry. For starting like that, I mean.”

Your brows draw together. “What are you talking about?”

Mando readjusts his grip on your, and the way his hand settles over the curve of your thigh is enough to make you shiver. “I should have taken my time with you. Fucking you against the wall, bending you over those crates in the back— that’s fine sometimes, but you deserve more.”

“If that’s how you like it, I don’t—”

He cuts you off then, a gloved thumb brushing against your bottom lip.

“I don’t care about me right now,” Mando says evenly, the tone of his voice picking at something deep in your stomach. “What do you want?”

It dawns on you then that this is foreplay— Mando’s decided he wants to fuck you again— and that makes your face hotter than fire itself. You know he’s waiting for an answer, so you decide to speak freely, the consequences of your words be damned.

“I want you to fuck me in bed,” you say slowly, whispering more than you’re talking. “With your gloves off. That’s not against the rules, right? You took them off the other day in front of me and Cara—”

“It’s not, mesh’la,” Mando affirms, the strange word dripping off his tongue like honey. You wonder what it means, though you don’t have the nerve to ask. “Go down to the hull and make us a space on the floor. I’ll be there in a minute.”

---

The darkness is disorienting, the blackness so black that you couldn’t see your own hand if it was two inches in front of your face. That’s by design, though, because none of this would be okay if you couldsee.

You had exactly two conditions earlier in the cockpit: in bed, no gloves. But it would seem that Mando had so much more in mind when he told you to come down here, and it’s anything beyond what you could have ever dreamed of. You’ve imagined this situation before, thought about what it might be like to know Mando this way, but to have it happen…

The beskar clangs softly as Mando lays it down, the sound letting you know that he’s somewhere off to your right. You’re sure he’s having no trouble seeing in the dark, given how many settings there on in his visor, but you can’t see a fucking thing. Not him, not his discarded armor, not even your own hand in front of you face. Under any other circumstance, you’d be afraid of the dark, but not now. No, now you simply tremble with anxiety, naked skin prickling with chills as you wait for Mando to undress himself. He stripped you first, of course, when the lights were still on, took his time and peeled your clothes off of you almost with reverence. You wish you could do the same to him, but something about that would be wrong you think— it would be crossing a line.

“Are you sure this is allowed?” you ask, almost whispering. The baby’s upstairs in the cockpit, dead to the world and tucked safely in his pram, and yet you still feel like you’re being too loud. Hyperspace is always so quiet, and the silence sets your teeth on edge even after all this time.

“Can you see me?” Mando asks, voice still filtered and staticky.

“I can’t even see myself,” you counter.

“Then it’s allowed.”

No more words pass between either of you for a moment, the space filled with the sound of clothes rustling. You hear a belt buckle and a zipper, can trace out the sounds of pants being kicked to the floor… Three short, bare footsteps, and then you aren’t alone on your little pallet anymore, Mando presence warm and undeniable close on the other side of the cushions.

“Cyar’ika.”

You aren’t sure if it’s the circumstances, or the fact that Mando speaks to you with a raw, unfiltered voice, but this one word picks at something inside you, gets you hot and needy where it counts. How many people has he laid down with like this? How many of them have heard Mando’s voice, his real voice, if any at all? You don’t know the answer to either of those questions, but you also don’t care, not right now.

“Can I touch you?” you ask softly, mustering all your strength and bravery. Mando doesn’t response, doesn’t so much as let out a breath, and so you jump when you feel his hand on your own. He guides you across the blankets, pulling you in closer, laying your palm on the warm, solid expanse of his forearm. Your fingers curl around it, squeezing the muscle, admiring the way Mando simply feels under your hands. He’s had so much of you— practically your whole body— and yet all you’ve been blessed with until tonight is the warmth of his hands, the feeling of his cock in you and on you. To feel his bare skin like this is strange, the fact that Mando is really and truly human coming into sharp focus as your fingers run along a scar, the hair on his arms…

“You’re handsome,” you declare, awed by feeling of Mando under your palms. He shudders when you lay your hand on the side of his face, the movement almost flinch-like in nature, but you’re quick to soothe his nerves with a gentle stroke of your thumb. You can’t imagine what this is like for Mando, can’t fathom what it must feel like to be touched when you hide yourself from everyone all the time. It’s in this moment that you realize he knows nothing of the sun or the wind, and your heart breaks for him.

“You wouldn’t say that if the lights were on.”

Mando sounds vaguely nervous now himself, voice more subdued than it was before. You have so much you want to say, want to shout out that you love everything about him and his body and your life together, but you that would be too much. No, doing something like that could ruin all of this in one fell swoop, and so you swallow those words down, replacing them with something else instead.

“If I ever get to see you one day,” you tell him, “I know for a fact that I’ll say the same thing. I promise.”

There’s a strange weight in that, a certain trust and understanding that you can’t put your finger on, but the pressure isn’t uncomfortable as it settles in the atmosphere, pressing you and Mando even closer. He pulls you under him without a word, holding you, twining your arms and legs and hands together until you aren’t sure where yours end and his begin. His kisses are tentative and unpracticed, but you feel the passion regardless, sighing as the press of Mando’s mouth tells you all the things he can’t say out loud. You don’t know how you ever got things twisted, aren’t sure how you could have possibly thought that Mando didn’t care for you because these aren’t the kisses and caresses of a man who sees you as little more than something to fuck. No, this is something else entirely, something better than you ever could have hoped for, and the rush of endorphins as your head swimming.

Your entire body arches when Mando begins to crawl down your body, his lips trailing over your neck and chest, your stomach and even the curve of your hip. “Mesh’la,” he says to you, murmuring into the spaces between your fingers. Mando’s paying particular attention to your hands now, kissing them delicately. “Listen to me, please.”

“Yes?” you say, half moaning as he drops your hand in favor of propping your legs open. The anticipation has you dizzy, brain fogged over completely as you wait, as you feel him line up your bodies—

Mando doesn’t say anything, not for several seconds, too distracted by the feel of you to speak. You’re fine with that, already too far gone to care after what, two, three thrusts? You couldn’t keep count if you wanted to, the haze in your brain too thick for any tedious mental activity to penetrate. Still, you try to listen like he asked, try to understand the words coming out of his mouth.

Mando’s voice is strained and low, but you catch everything regardless. “My name is Din,” he says to you, groaning shortly when you wind your fingers in his hair. “You can’t— You can’t say that in front of anyone, only to me and the baby. But that’s my name. I want you to call me by my name.”

“Anything you want, Din,” you say at once, and Maker does that have him swearing. Din does something with your body— opens your legs or lifts up your hips, something— and you see stars, whining brokenly. Not for the first time do you wish you could see his face or the plane of his back as he fucks you, but you have to admit that you’re glad that Din’s blind in all of this as well. You don’t even want to think about what you look like, how ruined and desperate your face must be. The pace is relentless now, and you find yourself struggling to keep up, keening and moaning and taking it until Din’s talking to you again.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, and you don’t understand.

“What?” you ask, breathless yourself. He hasn’t let up once since the two of you began, and even though you haven’t cum once, you already feel like you’re on another plane of existence.

“I’m sorry I never—” Din groans, adjusting his grip on your body. “I’m sorry I’m so bad at all of this shit. Talking and letting go and all the other stuff normal people do. I shouldn’t— You deserve more than that. I’m so sorry, cyar’ika.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” you tell him, holding fast to his shoulders, his arms, anything you can get your hands on. You don’t know how to tell him that all this is more than enough to make up for everything, that there’s hardly anything to make up for as it is.

“Yes, there is,” Din presses, and you know he wants to say more, but you cut him off before he can continue.

“Make me cum and kiss me while you do it,” you say to him, “and we’ll call it even.”

And Din seems more than happy to accept the deal, his fingers on your clit not three seconds after you’re done talking. You cum almost too fast, blindsided by your orgasm despite the fact that it’s been building for what feels like years now. Din’s not far behind you, asking whether or not he can cum inside you, and you tell him no, not this time. You have a long-term implant, but you it hasn’t been looked at by a medic in well over a year. It’s probably fine, but you’d rather be safe than sorry. And anyway, it’s not like the feeling of Din’s cum painting your stomach and chest isn’t incredibly hot, so you’re by no means complaining as you lie there and listen to him jerk himself off, your name falling from his lips.

“Stay here,” Din tells you, speaking gently even as he works to catch his breath. You miss him the second he’s gone, your ears straining to track his movements in the dark. Careful footsteps, the shuffling of blankets, the click of the light in the ‘fresher— you can’t see Din, not from this angle, but the idea that he even trusts you enough to cut a light on at a time like this has your heart pounding. He’s completely exposed in there, helmet still sitting next to his armor across the hull, and you almost close your eyes on reflex as you listen to the water run. But it’s all for nothing because Din tells you to do it anyway, turning off the faucet and stepping out into the hull again after you say that you’ve done as he asked.

The washcloth Din cleans you with is warm, a fact that’s not lost on you as you lie there in the semi-darkness. He’s quiet, but the delicate, precise nature of Din’s work speaks volumes. You want to ask him if this is something he does for everyone he sleeps with, but you keep your mouth shut, thinking a question like that might ruin the mood. He goes away from you again once your stomach’s clean, cutting off the light in the ‘fresher and discarding the rag all while you keep your eyes closed. It’s not until Din’s back in bed beside you that you dare to so much as crack them open, afraid you might glimpse too much if you move any sooner.

“Thank you,” you murmur. You’re not sure if you’re thanking Din for the sex or for cleaning you up, but it’s probably a bit of both.

“You’re welcome, cyar’ika,” he replies, pulling you in close. “Are you tired?”

You don’t speak for a moment, thinking of how hard it is to keep your eyes open now, how your thighs ache and your body yearns for rest. “Yeah.”

“Sleep, then,” Din tells you, and you almost feel pathetic for clinging to him like a child. Almost.

“Will you be here when I wake up?”

You aren’t sure why you’re asking— it’s not like Din has anywhere else to go— but his answer is important to you regardless.

“Right here, mesh’la,” he tells you, sounding tired now himself. “I promise.”

[bokettochild]

Hello! I was wondering what thoughts you have on each Link's opinion on Hylia?

Obviously, Sky adores her. That's his girlfriend, his dearest, one day his wife. They love each other and he's defensive of her in a way no one else would ever be. However, he's not entirely against making fun of her on occasion. He grew up with that girl, he has a million jokes about her and funny stories about her that would make Hylia transport them just so he won't tell them. Sky knows how to laugh at his girlfriend, never meanly, but he isn't all uptight about respect towards Hyrule; he's seen her sneak out of her room in her night-dress only to land in a pile of loftwing droppings.

Four is actually the one I see as being the most dedicated religiously. His time if before Hylia seemingly lost control of things, and I feel like, growing up, this kid heard a lot about her. Like, he's living directly after Sky and Sun, he probably thought they were like the coolest thing when he was a kid and now he's super embarrassed about it because he met Sky and the guy's amazing, but he literally worshiped this man and he's feeling awkward about it now.

Time doesn't care for Hylia at all. He appreciated the Golden Goddesses, after all, they gave him their blessings. But if he was offered the chance to meet Hylia I think he'd just pointedly turn it down. His coldly polite about her, no outright hatred, but heaven forbid Sky hear the man when he's in pain, because Hylia's is the only name Time will disrespect save Majora.

Legend blames her for everything. (I'm planning on making a video on this, so we'll see what happens with that.) Long story short, he despises Hylia above all else. Din, Nayru and Farore? He loves them and hates them in the way only family does (you know, he'd totally call them rude names to the others and swear by them and all that, but heaven help the lad who decides to curse in their name because those are his sisters, you jerk!!!!

Hyrule has no clue who any of the goddesses are because his world is canonically Catholic, so he has no clue who the shiny lady statues are. He like Sun a lot though, he thinks she's amazing and the feeling is mutual; she adores him right back.

Wind's world sees less connected to Hylia and more to the Golden Three, so I think he probably has no personal feelings about her. She's sort of a vague piece of folklore more than anything in his time.

Warriors isn't much of a religious man. He has a passing respect for Hylia, an understanding about her, but he have any personal feelings about her. He'll pray and take part in ceremonies, but she's not really a part of his life for the most part, and the most he does relating to her is swear in her name, something common in his time.

Twilight honestly didn't know who Hylia was until Rusl took him to visit a Hylian town once when he was twelve. He isn't sure what to think of her until he goes on his adventure, but then he just kind of regards her with the respect you might show a visiting royal. Ordonians worship the light spirits I think, so while he recognizes that she's real and that he served as her champion, he thinks of her as being something that isn't really a part of his life. She's like Zelda in that sense, they work together and have some shared business, but they aren't close.

Wild is very close to Hylia. He used to camp near her statues, and when he got lonely he'd chatter to her for hours about everything. I think those statues, considering they give off a soft and gentle feel from what I've seen of the game, probably are the closest to the recollection he has of a mother. Hylia has offered him some advice and aid, and he talks to her about everything from his missing memories to his worry about his missing dog when Wolfie would wander off.

(I'm planning on exploring more of this in the next part of The Face of My Father honestly. I'm labeling act two as "Hylia's Grace" and I'm really looking forwards to it!)

[sulphuryasecretcloset]

What if... Family Portrait

(Excuse me while I DIE because the art deity @cacodaemonia​ was so incredibly kind to create a What-If version of the Fearsome Four pic that Davarax took before he was ripped away from them. Well, here you have the Devoted Dad, Mama Bear, and their Fearsome Five! The cuteness, the adorableness, the PERFECTION is killing me! Davarax’ and Dulcy’s smiles (his slightly slanted grin and her big happy one, aaaah) and their hair (I worship the floof!) and their eyes (So kind, how??) and their armour (sessayh!) and... *flails* All of it!! And sweet, adorable, big eyed Corin, still a little more timid than his rambunctious siblings... PERFECT, I SAY! And to think this is what Corin could have had... Well, in the What-if, this is what he does have!)

A hundred years ago, I promised Davarax’ POV when Dulcy was kidnapped. Apologies for the unforgivably long wait, but I hope the fact that it was meant to be four pages and ended up closer to thirteen can make up for it a little?

-

What If... we saw it through Davarax’ eyes?

Davarax lowers Zurf to the floor with his grip on his wrist instead of slamming him to the ground like he usually does after managing to flip him over. Letting go, he then backs up, lifts his hands into the air to acknowledge the roar of approval from the other seven Mandalorians present in the training room and nods at the mix of praise aimed his way and the mockery flying Zurf’s way.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Belitz calls out, gesturing for everyone to settle down while he walks towards Davarax. “What was that, Davarax?”

Grinning, Davarax starts backing towards the exit. “That? That I believe was a win.”

“Since when do you coddle your opponent?” Belitz demands to know and follows, trailing after the scent of possible juicy news like a Corellian hound. “What’s up with you?”

“I’m not allowed to be in a good mood?” Davarax drawls, still grinning, still backing up.

“I’ve experienced you in a good mood.” Belitz states. “This is not you in a good mood. You in a good mood is merely spraining bones instead of breaking them. This? This is something else. What happened?”

Davarax snorts amused. He will die before he tells them anything.

“It’s that woman, isn’t it? The outsider.” Pagyle shouts from the other side of the room. Her voice soaked with glee. “She’s got you soft.”

Finally reaching the exit, Davarax does an extravagant bow. “I win. I leave. See you tomorrow, losers.” And then he flees, laughing out loud at the wave of questions and suggestive howling that follows him.

They are right and they are wrong. Wrong, because Davarax ‘is’ in a good mood. Extremely good mood. Honestly, he’s drunk on happiness. And his sparring partners are right, because he does owe the glow in his chest and the smile on his lips to Dulsissia.

Davarax can’t stop himself from bringing up the memory of her looking at him with open affection, the sensation of her fingers braiding with his, as well as the lazy bliss of just having her close and feeling her breathe. And that was just the memories from last night.

He’s never felt anything like this for anyone before. He’s never met anyone like her before.

Over a year with him on a different planet and yet Dulsissia had waited for him. Davarax doubts she knows how much her messages had helped him through that year. She has no idea how many times he replayed those holos during the moments when the darkness curled up in his chest from missing her and his other three kids so much he could barely breathe. How he dreaded what he would come back home to. Every day he woke up thinking that would be the day he learned he’d lost her.

Davarax had believed her when Dulsissia said she’d wait, but life happens and he wouldn’t have blamed her if she had found someone else… but she didn’t. She kept the children safe, handled life in the Covert like she’d grown up there and welcomed him back like she had missed him every bit as much as he’d missed her. If anything, it seems like her feelings for him were even stronger.

It gives him hope. Maybe one day, please let it happen, he’ll be able to defeat the demons from her past, rebuild the trust Macero Valentis had shattered, and take his helmet off for her.

Davarax’ happiness lasts until there is a knock on his door, hours later as he’s about to get ready for the day’s training session with the children, and he opens it to find Corin and Din looking up at him with almost identical anxious facial expressions.

“Is… Is my mom here?” Corin asks in a thin voice.

Davarax frowns. “No?” It’s late afternoon, a time she usually spends with her son, and he hasn’t seen her since she left his room last night. “Why are you asking?”

Corin fidgets. “Me and Din were working on a project with Barthor. Mom was supposed to come pick me up, but she never showed. A-and when we went back to my room, she wasn’t there either.”

Unease instantly coils around Davarax’ heart. There is no way Dulsissia would forget picking up Corin. She wouldn’t. If something came up, something so serious it couldn’t wait, she would have asked Davarax or someone else to bring a message to Corin and make sure he was okay.

Something is wrong.

-

Corin and Din already look horribly nervous and as Davarax doesn’t want to upset them further he keeps his thoughts to himself. He clears his throat and tries to sound calm. “Okay, listen…” Davarax tries to think and not just react. “I’ll ask around. She probably got caught up in something.” He considers his options and gestures the boys inside. “You two wait here. Okay?”

Sniffling, Corin seems to be very much aware of the seriousness of the situation and simply stands there, head lowered, until Din places his arm around him and leads him into the room.

Davarax takes a step out but pauses to look back at the boys. “And, uh, don’t touch the weapons.” While he trusts them, he also can’t ignore the fact that there are explosives in his room strong enough to send them all to Mandalore That Was.

Din nods. Corin merely sniffles again.

Davarax rushes towards the people he knows Dulcy has the most contact with. Decco hasn’t seen her all day, neither had the next one he asks, but then he gets his first lead.

“I think she went above?” Ayah says, shrugging. “I saw her walking down the hallway with that basket of hers this morning.”

This makes the unease grow stronger. Davarax stalks towards the stairs and enters the city above to set course to where he knows she usually sets up her little stand to sell her cookies.

The sun is shining over Nevarro, the HUD lists the temperatures uncomfortably high, so it shouldn’t be surprising that few people are walking around, but it still fuels Davarax’ unease and makes him wonder if something had scared people indoors. He pauses for half a second when he turns the corner and sees she’s not there. Dulcy is not in her spot. There’s not a single soul in the street. His heart drops. Cold sweat starts to break out at the back of his neck. She’s not there! But, his eyes focuses on the ground, but there is ‘something’ there…

Walking over, Davarax kneels down. He reaches down and brushes some sand away so he can pick up what had caught his attention.

It’s a piece of a cookie.

Staring at it, Davarax swallows down his ever increasing sense of doom and forces himself to look around on the ground. He sees more pieces. Like someone had dropped a bag of them on the ground and then stepped on it. His heartbeats feel like punches inside his chest. Fear. Raw fear. What had happened here?

“Are you looking for the nice cookie lady?” A voice asks.

Davarax looks up and sees a scruffy mercenary standing a small distance away, leaning against the wall next to him and munching away on a cookie with the few teeth he has left. Davarax stands up and drops the piece he had been holding. “Yes. Have you seen her?”

The mercenary nods, chewing thoughtfully. “She was her earlier.”

“Did you see where she went?” Davarax asks.

“The Imp took her away.” A different voice replies. It’s another mercenary. She has a small bag of Dulcy’s cookies hanging from her belt, next to grenades and what looks like small bones. She has more teeth than the other guy. A lot more teeth. Sharp ones.

“What Imp?” Davarax presses on, refusing to acknowledge how panic is starting to set in. He’d told Dulcy she was safe. He’d told her not to be afraid of going into the city because they’d know if Valentis showed up. Had Macero Valentis taken her away?

“An officer.” The first mercenary replies. “He had a whole bunch of those stormtroopers with him. Nothing we could do.” A slight frown settles between his eyebrows. “Seemed like she knew him.”

Davarax closes his eyes, forces himself to stay calm despite being horrified and enraged at the same time, then he exhales and opens them again. “Did you see where they were going?”

“The army base.” The second mercenary informs him. “I hope you find her. She’s nice.”

Thanking them, Davarax heads below again and finds the one responsible for supervising the information coming in about the Imperial movement on the planet. It is another test of his willpower when he learns that he wasn’t warned because he’d told them to keep an eye out for someone who asked around about Dulcy and Corin or the arrival of a man by the name of Macero Valentis. No one had asked around about Dulcy and Corin,  and Davarax had said nothing about a Vecon Valentis. They also inform Davarax that Vecon Valentis’ ship had left in a hurry hours ago.

Seething, Davarax barely resists unleashing his anger on these idiots, who probably weren’t too concerned about the safety of an outsider, and he stalks off to the one with the power to do something about this nightmare.

His sister.

-

Stepping into the Forge, smacking his hand on the button to close the door, Davarax does not kneel down. His heart his thumping like crazy. Dulcy is okay. Yeah, she’s okay. Dulcy is tough. She can handle herself until he can get to her. Please let her be okay. She has to be. Davarax yanks off his helmet. “The Imps got Dulcy.”

His sister pauses in her work, the golden helmet turns and her expressionless t-visor looks at him. “I was just informed.”

Davarax takes a step forward. “We have to go after them.”

There is a moment of silence and then she lowers her hammer and sets it aside. “No.”

Blinking, Davarax did not expect that answer. Okay, she had not been thrilled about Dulcy from the second he’d brought her home, finding her weak and whimsical, but he’d taken it for granted that she’d resent Imps taking someone under her protection. “Why not?”

“She’s an outsider.” His sister replies. Her voice is as emotionless as her helmet. “She’s not a Mandalorian. She’s not a Foundling. She’s not of this Covert. I will not risk the lives of our people for her. That is not the Way.”

Now Davarax is the one who needs a moment of silence and then he finds his voice again. “What about her son?”

“The boy is your Foundling.” Is the flat reply. “According to your reports, he shows promise as a fighter.”

Davarax nods thoughtfully, knowing there is no way he can change her mind. She’s not someone who changes her mind. He should know. “I will make arrangements that he’ll be taken care of if I don’t return.” He turns to leave.

“Where are you going?” Now there is a hint of sharpness in her voice.

Davarax stops, stares at the door and tries to sort out what he’s feeling. It’s like there is an imploding star inside his chest. It’s hard to breathe. “I’m going after her.”

“You are not.” That is an order.

“I am.” Davarax turns to face his sister again. He can’t lose Dulcy. He won’t. He refuses!

“You are staying here.”

“Or what?” Davarax snarls viciously, stepping forward, hands clenching and pure rage burning in his eyes.

She lifts her hands and removes her helmet. Her dark eyes and strong cheekbones, her hair that mix of brown and red, so similar to their mother she could be her twin. There is no mercy in her gaze. “You are staying here, brother. You are not going after her. She will lead you to your death.”

Davarax does not back down one inch. She was always meant to be the one to follow in their parents footsteps and he was to be her general, but this is an order he will not obey. “I love her vod. There is only one way you can stop me and you know it.” She is going to have to beat him unconscious and he will fight her with everything he’s got. “Try it!”

Her eyes narrow a tiny bit. For her, that is a huge red flag, revealing just how angry she is. Despite her detachment to most things, Davarax knows she loves him. She lets him get away with so much, stuff no other Mandalorian would dare to try under her rule, and she will knock him out if she thinks it will save his life.

But he will never forgive her if she stops him from saving Dulcy, his heart and future, and his sister must know this because she simply puts her helmet back on and turns away from him.

She won’t stop him, but he’s on his own. It hurts, but he’s not surprised.

Davarax puts his own helmet back on and walks out of the room.

-

Davarax is shaking. His head and his heart is in complete chaos.

He’s dreading what Dulcy is going through. Guilt is ripping him apart. She’d trusted him and now she is being brought back to the man who had almost ruined her and her son. Macero’s temper must be terrible, judging by how terrified she’d been when she thought he’d found them due to that lone stormtrooper, and Davarax can barely breathe when thinking about what the man will do to her if he gets his hands on her.

Davarax fights air into his lungs. Focus. He cannot undo what has happened, he needs to focus on what he can do. He needs his weapons and he has to explain to Corin what has happened and...

Davarax marches back to his room.

“Uncle Vecon…?” Corin goes pale as a sheet. His eyes fill up with more tears and his little frame start to tremble. “He’s… He’s going to take mom back to father. And he’s going to be sooo angry…”

“Hey.” Davarax takes a gentle hold of his shoulder and makes the boy look up at him. “Corin, listen to me, I won’t let that happen. Understand? I’m going to get your mom back. I promise you.” Corin looks up at him with complete trust despite the fear in his eyes. So young and yet painfully aware of the horrors his father is capable of. “You promise?”

Davarax nods, struggling to hide how much he wants to kill Corin’s father. The Galaxy would be a better place with one less monster in it. He pulls the boy in close and hugs him. “I promise.” And he fully intends to keep that promise. “But for me to do this, I need you to do me a huge favour.”

Nodding, Corin absently wipes a runaway tear from his face. “Okay.”

“What do you need us to do?” Din asks, ready to be Corin’s support pillar and Davarax feels a stab of pride as well as affection for the boy. His brave Foundling. Despite the horror he went through himself not too many years ago, Din doesn’t hesitate to support his friend. Like a true Mandalorian.

“I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.” Davarax doesn’t want to mention the possibility he might not come back at all. They are worried enough. “I need Corin to stay with… a friend of mine until I get back.”

Din lowers his gaze, knowing Davarax is not talking about his parents as they have made it clear they do not like outsiders and consider Corin very much as one. “I’ll… come along. Make sure he settles in.” “Thank you.” Davarax says. He’s not entirely thrilled about what he’s about to do, but it’s his least bad option out of a bunch of worse options. “Corin, let’s go by your room and pick up some stuff for a couple of days. Okay? We have to hurry.” Corin nods, meek and affable. He’s horribly pale and looks heartbreakingly shaken, but he is holding himself together despite having lost the person who means the most to him. He’s stronger than he knows, Davarax muses. One day that boy will grow up to be a powerful warrior.

They pick up some clothes and Corin’s datapad. Davarax notices a small pile of Din’s clothing lying on a chair in a corner and wonders just how much time the kid spends with Dulcy and Corin. Then they make their way down the hallway and head towards a door he really does not want to approach.

Davarax pushes the button to signal his presence. He doesn’t want to use the comm system and risk being shut down.

Nothing.

Sighing, Davarax pushes again. He doesn’t have time for this. Every second wasted means that Valentis guy dragging Dulcy farther and farther away and closer to her former husband.

Finally the door slides open and Davarax forces his spine straight. “I need a favour.”

A heavy silence follows before there is a slight shake of a blue helmet as if to reboot his brain before he’s able to speak. “You. You are asking Dez Vizla for a favour?”

Corin and Din exchange looks behind Davarax and he can almost hear what the kids are thinking. Why on earth would he bring Corin to Dez Vizla?

Well, Barthor’s parents would never agree to take him in. Neither would Din’s parents. And while the Saxons would say yes, he’s not entirely sure Corin would survive that. Decco’s illness causes days when she has no energy and might soon end her days all together. The Fighting Corps are constantly on the move and its members have no stability for a child. Dez Vizla may be an uptight and pompous jerk who likes to talk about himself in the third person and unfortunately treats his son like an adult instead of a child, but he rarely leaves the Covert, guards his wards with his life and will never turn his back on a Foundling in need. Plus, in his quarters, Corin will also have Paz to look after him day and night. Hopefully the stay won’t be for too long, but at least Corin will be safe and cared for.

“I need you to look after Corin for a bit.” Davarax says, trying to sound calm and confident.

Dez snorts a haughty laugh. “What?” He shakes his head again, still struggling to believe what he’s hearing. “You want… What?”

“Dulcy got snatched by Imps. They took her away.” Davarax explains in a tight voice, trying hard not to upset Corin. “I’m going to get her back.” He switches to Mando’a and hopes Corin doesn’t understand what he’s saying next. ”This is serious, Dez. I need your help. Keep him safe?”

Dez stares at him for a while, entirely still and unreadable, before he finally sighs and takes a step to the side to let Corin enter. “Get inside, boy. Now.”

Corin freezes, panics, and looks up at Davarax. As expected, he responds badly to Dez’ rough personality. Davarax is about to speak but Din beats him to it.

Din gives Corin a light nudge. “I’ll come with you. It’s okay.” He sends Dez a challenging look.

Dez snorts again, amused by the glare, and gives a nod. Fine. Din can come too.

Relieved, Davarax sees the two shuffle into the Vizla quarters and tells himself it won’t be the last time he sees them. He’s going to get Dulcy and then they will all be together again.

-

Davarax grabs his weapons and as many grenades and explosives as he can before he sets course for the Razor Crest. His heart is still thumping so hard he can almost feel it battering against the inside of his breastplate.

If Macero Valentis is a monster, his brother might be too. What if he has hurt Dulcy? What is she thinking about right now? Does she think Davarax has abandoned her or does she find comfort in the knowledge that he’ll come for her? Is she afraid? She’s tough, no doubt about that, but courage is not the absence of fear. Only a fool would not feel fear at times. And the mere thought of her being afraid burns Davarax’ heart like acid.

Lost in a hurricane of thoughts and emotions, Davarax doesn’t hear the voice calling out his name and is a bit startled when someone grabs him just as he’s about to step outside of the Covert. Snapping his visor over, Davarax is surprised to find Paz there.

“Is it true?” Paz says, breathless and agitated. “Dulcy’s gone? The Imps got her?”

Davarax exhales. “Yeah…” He has to gather himself and appear calm once again, not wanting to worry Paz either. “But I’m going to get her back. Don’t worry. You just make sure Corin is okay.”

Paz gulps for air as his agitation increases. “I’m coming with you.”

“What? No.” Davarax blinks when the boy bolts by him and stalks out of the Covert. “Paz! Paz, get back here.”

Marching towards the Razor Crest, Paz doesn’t slow down. “I’m coming with you!”

Davarax curses and trots after him, trying to persuade him to go back. Paz makes it all the way inside the ship’s cargo hold before Davarax loses his patience and grabs his arm.

“Paz, I don’t have time for this!” Davarax makes Paz’ visor focus on him. “Dulcy is in serious trouble. These Imps are dangerous.”

“I can fight!” Paz snaps back at him, his voice both angry and shaking.

“I know you can fight.” Davarax reassures him, a little impatiently. “But you are not coming with me. Go home, Paz. Look after Corin. And the others. Go!”

“No!” Paz shouts, but his next words are soft and broken. “She has to come back. She has to.” He struggles to keep speaking. “She’s always so nice to me. To all of us.”

“I know…” Davarax whispers. Paz had been abandoned by his birth mother all those years ago and now he is ready to rush into battle and get himself killed to avoid losing Dulcy. The only woman who had cared enough to act like an actual mother to him. “I’m going to get her back, Paz. I promise. But I have to go now.”

“I’m going with you.” Paz repeats in a stubborn reply.

Sighing, Davarax knows more words are pointless. While the helmet hides Paz’ face, he knows the boy well enough to hear in his voice and read from his body language when he’s too determined to be persuaded otherwise. “Go home, Paz.” He tightens his grip on his arm and drags him out of the ship, kicking and screaming.

Paz’ fury is frightful and Davarax is fairly certain if the boy had a weapon; he would have shot Davarax when he lifts the ramp and blocks him out of the ship. He might not forgive Davarax for this, but he will be safe and alive. And that is what Dulcy would want too.

Dulcy…

-You and Corin are safe here, he’d told her.

She had trusted him when he’d said they’d know if there was danger nearby. He’d told her those words because he’d believed them too. He’d failed to take idiocy and dislike towards outsiders into consideration. The idiots hadn’t meant for any harm to come to her, they just didn’t put any effort into the safety of an outsider.

She’s okay. Dulcy has to be okay. Davarax will get to her long before Macero Valentis does. He will. He won’t fail her, or the children, not as long as he breathes. Davarax had given up on having a family of his own beyond what time he was allowed to spend with his treasured troublemakers and he had settled for being a provider for other families instead, but then Dulcy entered his life and everything changed.

Davarax’ hands shake as he starts up the Razor Crest, driven by red hot fury at the ones who had taken Dulcy away and cold dark despair at the thought of her surrounded by enemies.

He’s going to get her back.

-

Going after the Imp ship is part guessing, part experienced calculations and part luck. There is no way for Davarax to know their exact route or destination as he has no clue where Macero Valentis is currently located, but he knows which routes are most commonly used by Imps ships as he tends to avoid them like the plague and he has contacts to ask along the way.

It feels strange to deliberately enter areas where he is bound to meet Imp ships.

Constant attacks has left the Imp army jumpy so there are a couple of ships who take his presence and him scanning them the wrong way. The Razor Crest has to make a run for it several times and ends up with scorch marks on her hull, but that’s not enough to make Davarax stop.

He can’t.

Eventually Davarax manages to lock on to the one moving against the stream of Imp ships and with single-minded determination as if there is some place it needs to be and as fast as possible. He can’t be sure, but his heart tells him he’s found his prey and Davarax always trusts his instincts.

Unaware of baring his teeth like a furious beast and the muscles in his neck and shoulders tensing up, Davarax can only register one thought: the hunt has begun.

Food and sleep have become a distant memory on this trip. When did he eat or sleep last? Yesterday? The day before? He can’t remember and Davarax doesn’t care. He simply keeps pushing the Razor Crest and himself to catch up with the Imp ship before it reaches the clutches of Macero Valentis.

Eventually he does catch up with the ship.

Others tend to shake their head at Davarax’ attachment to the Razor Crest, but he knows what she’s capable of and how to us her strengths in ways that his enemies never expect. People underestimate his ship all the time and Davarax hopes they continue to do so – as it makes his victories all the more sweeter and drastically reduces the risk to his life and his ship’s safety.

When the Imp ship slows down, for whatever reason, Davarax goes for it.

Setting loose two decoys with signals meant to impersonate much larger ships than the Razor Crest, Davarax gives a powerful boost with his engine before powering down and hoping the forward momentum will bring him to where he needs to go; the landing dock on the Imp ship’s left flank.

It’s a move he’s only done twice before and he succeeded once, but Davarax decides to risk it.

Dulcy is right there. In that ship. And Macero Valentis is not, or there would have been a second ship to accompany them. There is still time to get her back.

The Razor Crest does not fail him. She slides through the darkness, under the Imp ship’s radar and drowsy attention, their arrogance brought on by them thinking themselves superior in every way can be quite helpful, and once she’s powered back up it only takes the gentlest of nudges to make her move up to where she can latch on to one of the boarding docks.

Davarax is on his feet before the attachment to the other ship is deemed secure by the Razor Crest’s sensors. Three blasters and an unseemly amount of explosives join his arsenal hidden in his armour.

It’s time to put all of his concern and anger into his weapons.

He goes for stealth at first. He needs to know where they are keeping Dulcy. And while Davarax knows he’s a skilled fighter, he’s just one man and this ship is crawling with soldiers. He needs to be clever about this and not let his anger rule him.

He’s told Din countless times to control his anger instead of letting his anger control him, and this is one of those situations where that could be the deciding factor of the outcome of the mission.

A drowsing guard is yanked around a corner and asked for information, but the guy isn’t much help and is left hidden inside a service closet. He is soon joined by two more.

It’s the fourth guard that finally gives Davarax the answers he is looking for.

Dulsissia Valentis is indeed on this ship. They are keeping Dulcy two levels below this one, in the last cell on the left side of the prison corridor. And there are plenty of guards.

There is no way he can get to her without being detected.

Davarax lets the guard fall to the floor and draws his blasters. Controlling your anger also means to know when it is time to let it loose.

It’s time.

-

It kind of becomes a red haze after that. Davarax makes his way through the soldiers and guards, using blasters and grenades and his flame thrower to remove them from his path, and every step brings him closer to Dulcy.

Nothing will stop him.

Nothing.

He plants several bombs in strategic places, aiming to injure the ship’s engines and computers as well as draw attention away from himself. Once that is in place, Davarax moves towards the door leading below and gets ready.

Davarax triggers the first two bombs. The ship shakes and groans and he heads below to face the minor army placed there to guard their precious cargo.

The first Trooper he sees standing there spins around at the sound of him and freezes with surprise.

Davarax fires his blaster and moves on to take down the next before the body has hit the floor. He triggers more bombs.

The ship’s siren starts blaring. It howls its long and loud warnings on all floors.

After that, blaster shots hits Davarax’ armour, shrapnel from enemy grenades and his own stabs at him, fists and bots do their best to hurt him, even a blade or two slices through his jacket, yet he keeps moving forward. He won’t stop unless he’s dead.

A well placed grenade takes out the light on the entire level, but instead of darkness his HUD has to adjust to the backup-lights flickering on and off as it appears the electrical system itself has taken damage.

Endless amounts of guards try to stop him. All of them visibly confused as they were under the impression that they are being invaded by a large group of enemies and all they see is one Mando. They soon are too dead to appreciate the lesson Davarax is teaching them: do not mess with a Mandalorian’s family.

Davarax removes a couple of soldiers trying to kill him with a well-aimed grenade and he turns a corner to see what he’s been looking for; the prison corridor.

“He’s here!” Someone shouts in the distance.

“Thank you for pointing out the obvious.” A voice snaps. “Don’t just stand there! Stop him!”

More soldiers rush forward to protect the owner of the voice.

Davarax removes obstacle (soldier) after obstacle (more soldiers), ignoring everything except his mission. He’s so lost in his anger and battle-haze that he’s not prepared for when he suddenly sees her there. Barely visible through the smoke and blaster shots sent his way, there is no mistaking her.

Dulcy.

Some obnoxious Imp officer is standing next to her, his one hand grabbing her arm and the other holding a blaster muzzle to her head. The officer looks scared. She does not. Her eyes are wide with surprise, yes, but her mouth softens into the faintest of smiles. Her hair is almost as wild as Raga’s and for some weird reason she’s wearing a fancy teal dress that probably costs more than the Razor Crest.

It would have eased Davarax’ anger, soothed the fire inside him, quenched his thirst for blood, seeing her standing there… if not for the blooming bruise on her face. There is a startling discolouring of the delicate cheekbone he’d trailed light fingertips over in a wordless display of love not too long ago...

Unbridled rage explodes inside Davarax. He’s going to rip Vecon Valentis apart!

Completely indifferent to the shots fired at him, Davarax merely keeps stalking towards Dulcy and the soon-to-be-dead-Imp, killing anyone who gets in his way. He’s so angry he can barely breathe. How dare they hurt her?!

-

A trooper jumps out of room next to him, blaster raised, but Davarax slams his elbow into the helmet so hard it shatters. He then pulls out a vibro-blades and throws it through the air and takes down the one guard left standing next to Dulcy and the Imp officer.

The red lights are still flashing, sirens are blaring, there is thick smoke in the air, and Davarax is finally standing in front of Dulcy and Vecon Valentis. The Imp now looks downright terrified.

“Don’t, Mando.” Vecon warns. “I will shoot.”

“Not if he kills you first, Vecon.” Dulcy says. She’s keeping her gaze locked on Davarax, unfazed by Vecon’s threat and the pain of her bruised face. His brave Dulcy. His heart. His light.

Not bothering to even look at Vecon, Davarax grabs the man’s hand holding on to the blaster and squeezes and twists it until he drops the weapon with a pained yelp. He’s mesmerized by Dulcy’s complete lack of fear and solid faith in him. She even uses the moment Davarax disarms her captor to break free and spin around to stand next to Davarax instead.

“Tell Macero I’m never going back. He will never see his son again. And to leave me alone. And if he comes after me or my family again, I won’t ask nicely to be left alone. I will kill him.”

‘My family’. She said ‘my family’. It might be wishful thinking from Davarax’ side, but her choosing those words instead of just saying ‘me or my son’, it almost sounds like she means… him and the children? The anger deflates as wild hope floods Davarax instead and he glances over at the amazing woman next to him.

Dulcy is glaring at Vecon, who is bending over into an awkwardly twisted position due to the grip Davarax has on him, and she looks magnificent; beauty and fury. And there is no hesitation or trace of softness in her threat. She means it, she will kill Macero, and Davarax loves her even more.

“Tell him yourself.” Vecon sneers.

Davarax is distracted, entirely focused on Dulcy, and he pays the price. The Imp moves and a sharp pain follows as he drives a blade into Davarax’ side. Grunting, Davarax reacts instinctively; he draws his blaster and shoots.

Vecon Valentis is dead.

Dulcy doesn’t care. She seems indifferent to the man being killed and her being deprived of the chance to do it herself as payback for her bruised face. All she focuses on is getting to where the blade is planted deep in Davarax’ body. “Oh. Oh no. What-”

They have to leave. Now. The blade hasn’t done lethal damage but Davarax knows he won’t be able to fight for too long with this kind of injury. Blood-loss will weaken him. He yanks the blade out and grabs her arm to redirect her frightened gaze to his t-visor. “We have to go.”

She nods, a little stunned but ready to get out of there. Good.

Picking up Valentis’ blaster, he hands it to her. “I need you to cover my back, Dulcy. Can you do that?” Blood is seeping through his underarmor and a burning pain is spreading. No time to deal with it as more guards are on their way for sure. He needs her help if they are going to make it.

She nods again. Worried, pale, but determined. She’s got his back. Just like he knew she would.

He loves her so much.

Together, they move, battle and make it back to the Razor Crest.

Stumbling into the cockpit and over to sit down in the pilot seat, Davarax brings the engines online and detaches them from the Imp ship as quick as possible. The bombs he’d set off earlier was to confuse the troops onboard and Davarax hopes they have caused enough damage to the engines for him and Dulcy to make their escape.

The Razor Crest does a slow turn, rolling over, Dulcy buckles herself into her seat, and with a strained shake of her entire hull; the Razor Crest gives a mighty kick and races off into the darkness.

-Run, Davarax pleads the ship. -Run as fast as you can, old girl. If that beast recovers enough to come after us, we’re all dead. So I need you to run with everything you got. Run!

And, again maybe it is his wishful thinking, Davarax swears he feels the ship give an extra burst and her speed increases even more as they race towards safety.

-

Only after forty three minutes and seventeen seconds of pushing the engines to the limit of what they can take, plus non-stop checking the radar to see if someone has decided to chase them and finding nothing, only then does Davarax dare to ease up and let the Razor Crest slow down while he leans back and exhales.

Adrenaline and stress leaves his body while exhaustion moves in.

This is also when Dulcy unbuckles herself and appears by his side to with an anxious expression on her beautiful face and her hands hovering a little undecidedly over his torso as if she can’t decide where to touch.

Her own bruised face appears forgotten to her. Davarax feels how guilt viciously collides with the relief of having her back. He reaches out, pulls Dulcy close and hugs her tight. “Are you okay?” Her bruised face is bad enough, more than bad enough, but what if… He will never forgive himself if...

“Yes, but you’re not.” Dulcy replies, too relaxed to be lying and she tries to push him away. “You’re bleeding. You’re hurt, Davarax. I have to-”

Feeling her in his arms, alive and warm and there and forgiving him his failure, Davarax couldn’t care less about his own injuries. He can’t even feel them. All he can feel is her. All he cares about is her. The thought of letting her go after nearly losing her forever hurts. “In a moment.” Davarax’ throat is snared up so tight he has to whisper. “Please.”

And his heart shatters entirely when this incredible woman shivers, once, then wraps her arms around him and hugs him back. Davarax eases her over to sit on his lap where she curls as close to him as she can manage and he holds her as close as he dares.

He’d nearly lost her. This fact will haunt him for the rest of his life; a life he cannot imagine without her. She brought him out of his half-existence, comforted his children when he was unable to and Davarax had started to wake up in the mornings with hope instead of guilt and weariness.

Despite the ordeal she has been through, Dulsissia ignores her own hurt and says that they need to tell the Covert Macero will come for them so they can flee, but Davarax isn’t too worried. They have fought all kinds of governments before and won. He alone had taken on a Destroyer and gotten away with it today, just imagine what his entire Covert could do to a man stupid enough to challenge them.

Dulcy is not convinced, but they compromise and then her focus shifts to his injuries and that is something she will not compromise on. It’s odd to have someone care. Nice, but odd. He’s always tended to his injuries himself.

She fusses about his wounds and notes how Vecon held the blade all wrong to do fatal damage. His girl knows how to stab someone properly. His heart glows with pride.

Dulcy refuses to use the cauterizer and tries to order him out of the pilot seat. As much as he loves her authoritative voice, Davarax declines. He needs to keep an eye on the radar, just in case.

Another compromise is made and she ends up sitting on his lap while tending to his injuries.

It’s no big surprise when she asks about her son.

“Scared out of his mind that he’ll never see his mother again.” Davarax sighs, running his hand along her arm in an absent-minded caress. “When we get closer to Nevarro, I’ll try to reach him.”

“And the rest of the kids?”

That actually makes Davarax laugh a little “I had to physically wrestle Paz off the ship when he heard I was going. If he had a blaster, he would have shot me.” His hand rounds her shoulder and moves up her neck to cup the side of her face. “They’ve all been desperate to get you back. Like me.” It feels almost too good that she’s back. He did it. She’s here. He didn’t fail her again.

“I’m sorry.” Dulsissia mumbles, gently patting down the edges of a bacta patch on his stab wound. “I didn’t see him before it was too late. And then I just wanted them away from all of you.”

“Hey.” Davarax takes a gentle but firm grip on her wrist, halting her movement, making her look at his visor. “This was not your fault. This was all them. You have nothing to apologize for.”

Dulsissia doesn’t look convinced. “Maybe not. But the fact remains that without me stumbling into your life, you wouldn’t be bleeding right now.”

“Without me barging into yours, I wouldn’t be sitting here, that’s true.” Davarax replies, gently caressing her wrist. “I wouldn’t be with you. My days wouldn’t bring happy memories instead of feeling guilty all the time. I wouldn’t come home to my kids smiling instead of crying, hiding away while being terrified for their lives or without a voice because they have been screaming themselves hoarse.” His hand moves up to brush the back of his fingers across her bruised cheekbone, feeling the guilt gnaw at him again. “That’s worth more than bleeding for, cyare. That’s worth dying for.”

Closing her eyes, Dulsissia takes a hold of his hand and moves it down to press her lips to it. “Other than the love I felt for my son, I didn’t know what love was until I met you.” She shivers. “Don’t talk about dying because it feels like tempting fate and I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

“Then, maybe, if you feel like that, would you…” Davarax says, tensing up a little. He had asked her to marry him and she had said no. It’s just… He wants them to be together, forever, so badly. He wants to be able to take his helmet off in front of her. He wants to kiss her lips and feel her hands on his face. He wants her to see his smile and how happy she makes him. He wants… What he wants doesn’t matter. As tempting as it is to ask her to at least reconsider, he won’t. He had asked and she had said no. Davarax is going to have to respect that.

Dulcy kissing his hand snaps him out of his thoughts just before she asks; “Would I what?”

Davarax exhales and lets go off his dream. He then tilts his head and tries to divert the conversation. “Would you let me compliment you on the dress? It’s lovely. And really brings out the colour of your eyes.” Vecon Valentis might have been a jerk, but looks to have had a sense of fashion.

Laughing, Dulsissia shakes her head and goes back to focus on cleaning and bandaging him up. “Thank you. I kind of like it myself. Impractical, but pretty. I was thinking about keeping it.”

“I think you should.” Davarax drawls, toying with the thin shoulder strap to distract himself as well. “Definitely.”

-

When Davarax finally manages to contact the children over the comm system, it’s both a relief and painful torture. Relief in that Corin gets to talk to his mother, hear her voice and know she is safe, same with the other children, but Davarax is also tortured by guilt upon hearing their distress and knowing he is to blame. He had said Dulcy was safe and she had been ripped away from them.

His heart aches the most, however, when Dulcy, his sweet Dulcy, makes sure she hears the voice of every child to reassure them all, like the amazing mother she is. It makes him want to collect every neglected child in Galaxy and bring them to her so they can feel happy again too.

In the five hours it takes for them to return to Nevarro, Davarax persuades Dulcy to return to his lap and merely drowse in his arms until they land. It feels so good to hold her. He will happily share her with the children when they get back home, but for these hours, knowing everyone is safe, he will allow himself to be selfish and savour every second where it is just the two of them.

Stepping inside the Covert, Corin is in his mother’s arms before the door has closed behind them. The boy is clinging to his mother with desperate determination, eyes squeezed tight and his entire frame shaking. Dulcy is struggling to keep from crying and she’s stroking and kissing his dark hair, his cheeks and his forehead. It’s the kind of open affection that Davarax can only dream about...

Which means he is not prepared for Din running over to wrap his arms around his waist and burying his face to his stomach with a half-choked sound. His grip is frightfully strong. Surprised and humbled by the rare display of affection, Davarax runs a gentle hand over Din’s hair. While Din has eagerly soaked up every hug and encouraging pat Davarax has given him, this is the first time he has initiated a hug. It almost feels like Din had been equally scared of losing him as Corin had been about losing his mother. That… It’s…

Glancing over at Dulcy, trying to blink away the fog that appears to be assaulting his eyes, Davarax sees Raga and Barthor have joined Corin in her embrace. It seems wrong that Din should have to settle for him so he gently ushers the boy over to Dulcy as well and loves her even more at how quickly and naturally she includes Din with the others.

It would be perfect if only… Davarax’ heart sinks as he sees Paz standing there alone, arms crossed,  older than his years. He’s not been the same since the battle at the new Covert. It’s a part of growing up as a Mandalorian, but it still hurts to witness. Yet another thing he can’t protect them from.

Lost in thought, Davarax is then again not prepared as Dulcy unleashes Corin, Raga and Barthor in his direction and they all throw themselves at him with gusto. Davarax grunts at the impact when Raga actually jumps at his chest, Barthor smacks into his left hip and Corin to his right, Din’s arms goes back around his waist, all of them grabbing a hold and hugging him. Din laughs while Davarax staggers a step backwards and tries to pet each head, support Raga to prevent the little space-monkey from falling and not dislodge any one of them at the same time.

Dulcy walks over to stand in front of Paz. “No hug?”

“Kids first.” Is the stern reply.

She simply pulls him close, hugs him even closer and whispers something. Something that has Paz relax and hug her back. That woman must surely be a Jedi witch…

But Davarax doesn’t get to linger on the sight or speculate on her magical powers as he’s quickly distracted by Raga climbing up to perch on his shoulder and he has to support her with one hand while Corin decides to hang off his other arm, using him like a swing like he’d done during their initial meeting back on that smoke-covered planet. Din actually laughs.

“Maybe we can head inside?” Davarax asks, his voice a little strained under the children enthusiastically mistaking him for a playground.

Dulcy looks over at them and smiles like the angel she is. “Yeah, let’s go.”

-

They walk towards Dulcy and Corin’s room. She reminds him of the need to warn the Covert about the danger of Macero Valentis, but Davarax is in no hurry to see his sister just yet. And Davarax does not believe for one second that Valentis could be a threat to the Covert. If the foolish man was to try to attack, they would eat him alive.

Inside the room there is a whirlwind of exchange of information. Dulcy is as curious about how Davarax had been able to find her as the children are about what had happened to her. Corin gently touches the bruise on his mother’s face with agonized tenderness.

“It still sucks that Davarax had to go alone.” Raga states angrily. “He even had to defy ‘her’ to do it!”

Startled, Davarax doesn’t want Dulcy to know he’d raised his voice to his sister. “It’s late.” He states, stealing their attention away from Raga’s words. “You kids should head home.”

There is nothing but disappointed faces among the children, but there is one who looks downright… depressed. “Can…” Din clears his throat, shifts his position awkwardly. “Can I stay here tonight?”

Corin nods. “He has bad dreams, mom. He dreamt the droids got you.”

Davarax’ heart clenches. He knows how tormented Din has been by the memory of how his birth parents had perished. He’s seen the raw fear in him whenever the boy sees an android. And when Dulcy sends him a pleading look, Davarax isn’t difficult to persuade. Sighing, he nods and starts to contact Din’s Mandalorian parents via his vambrace. “I’ll ask them” And they will say yes. He won’t settle for anything else. The boy needs a little cheering up after all this.

That triggers a landslide of requests to stay as well. Davarax adores those kids for how Raga meekly promises to behave and Paz finally reverting to his real age by demanding to stay if she gets to stay, yet Barthor’s quiet resignation awakens the anger in Davarax.

“My mom will never let me sleep over.” Barthor scoffs with bitter conviction.

Davarax feels his eyes narrow. “Want to bet?” Barthor is one of his kids. If Barthor wants to join the sleep-over, then Barthor will sleep over as well. He is just about to press the final button to contact Din’s parents when his beloved witch strikes again.

“How about… we all spend the night in Davarax’ room?”

Davarax’ face snaps up to stare at her. She couldn’t have surprised him more if she’d slapped him across his bare face with a fish. “Say what now?” Nobody said anything about them sleeping over in his room, with explosives in every corner and the memory of Dulcy’s soft whimpers in his bed.

Din lights up with utter delight. “Oh, can we?”

Davarax clenches his jaw, Dulcy gives him the sweetest smile of fake innocence, and he folds with a heavy sigh. As if he can deny her or these kids anything. “Just… let me talk to your parents first.”

As expected, Din’s parents give their permission without much trouble. They trust Davarax.

Davarax fears he suffers permanent hearing damage after connecting with the Saxons and quickly blurts out his question.

There is a moment of silence before Raga’s mother states: “Anything she breaks, I’m not paying for it.”

“It’ll be on me.” Davarax replies, and then she starts screaming at either her husband or her sons and he just shouts his goodbye and disconnects.

Dez is a problem because of course he is. That man thrives on being difficult, especially around Davarax. If Davarax states something obvious, Dez will disagree just because he said it.

“A sleep over? Are you kidding me? My boy has put on the helmet. He doesn’t do kid stuff like that. I will not have you make my son soft, Davarax.”

“Dez…” Davarax has to take a deep breath and not lose his temper. “It’s a sleep-over. All his friends will be here. Don’t be such a hard-ass. Let the boy have some fun.”

“We are Mandalorians. We don’t do fun. Fun doesn’t make you into a great warrior.”

“A little fun never harmed a kid. He’s a kid, Dez. Helmet or not, he’s still a kid. Let him have this.”

“He should be training.”

“He is training. Every day. That boy is dedicated and you know it. He’s among the best fighters I’ve ever seen. Let. Him. Have. This.”

They bicker back and forth for a while and eventually Davarax manages to wear down the cantankerous man by a combination of nagging and bribery. It’s worth it when he can give Paz the thumbs up to show he’s allowed to stay as well.

And yet Dez Vizla is nowhere near as frustrating as Barthor’s parents. There is no room for negotiations, no compassion or empathy, just a stubborn ‘no’. Davarax tries everything. He flatters, he tries to bride, he tries to reason with them, he even gets dangerously close to pleading, but it doesn’t work. They won’t budge. They will not allow their son to have one simple sleep-over.

And that is when Davarax turns mean. Dangerously mean.

Thirty seconds later, he can give a very surprised Barthor a thumbs up.

-

That is how they end up gathering all there is off mattresses and blankets and pillows and march over to Davarax’ room. After hoarding and hiding away his weaponry, Davarax helps to arrange their haul all so his kids can be comfortable before he steps up next to Dulcy. “The kids are set. You take the bed. I’ll, uh…” He scouts for where he can fit on the floor, have a good view of the door in case of danger and be close enough to the kids to keep an eye on them as well.

“You and me are sharing the bed.” Dulcy states, as if it is the most natural thing in the world and her words doesn’t hit him in the gut like she’d fired a slugthrower. “The bed is for old people. Like us.”

“I said I was sorry.” Barthor groans. “Let it go.”

“Never.” Dulcy snaps, then she sends Davarax, who can’t stop staring at her, a puzzled look. “What?”

What? She’d just said they would share a bed, a bed with sinful memories, with the kids in the room and she’s asking him ‘what’?? Davarax shakes his head and looks over at the kids again to calm his stuttering heart. She can’t be that oblivious, can she? Well, he can handle this. He can-

“And would you mind taking the armour off?” Dulcy continues to torture him. “You can, inside the Covert, right?”

Closing his eyes, wondering what he’d done wrong to deserve this sweet punishment, Davarax manages a tiny nod.

He handles it like a champ. Davarax removes his armour, settles himself on the bed closest to the door to keep an eye on it and the children to ensure they are safe. Din often has nightmares and might need calming down, though he currently looks quite comfortable between Corin and Paz. Davarax got this. He can handle this.

Dulcy curls up next to him and rests her head on his chest.

He… He’s got… got this…

After a while, Dulcy lets out a soft laugh. “You’re going to have to breathe eventually, you know.”

“No.” Davarax declares. She’s too close and too tempting for him to dare to breathe.

Dulcy giggles and that catches Corin’s attention. He pops his head up and asks what is so funny. If only he knew. Of course Davarax’ evil witch isn’t content with tormenting him solely by being this close to him. Oh no. She hoists herself up on her side and places her hand on his stomach. Her fingers dig gently into the fabric of his shirt and making it slide across his skin in a deliberate caress. “Nothing, baby. Go back to sleep”

Oh. Oh, this means war. Davarax reaches down and grabs a good handful of that divine behind of hers. He grins and savours her strangled squeak like the finest battle trophy.

Corin’s head pops up again. “Mom?”

“It’s fine, Corin.” Dulsissia takes revenge by prodding two fingers next to one of Davarax’ wounds

He jolts with a muffled grunt. Oh, she is really pushing her luck right now...

Corin’s head goes down again.

Davarax’ takes a firmer grip on her behind, hitching her abruptly closer, so she places a hand to an unharmed area on his chest to push herself away. Davarax counters by using his other hand to grab the one she has to his chest and removing it before pulling her even closer. She squirms to free herself while they both struggle to muffle their laughter. Davarax can’t believe this is happening. He wasn’t this childish even when he was a child.

Paz’ helmet comes up and he lets out a very annoyed; “SHHH!”

Davarax and Dulsissia both withdraw their hands amidst quiet laughter.

“Sorry.” Dulsissia stutters through choked giggles.

“Yeah, sorry.” Davarax adds, struggling hard to silence his own snickering.

Grunting, still very much annoyed, Paz lies back down again.

As the laughter calms and a warm peace settles in instead, Dulsissia finds Davarax’ hand. She takes it, lifts it up to hold it between their chests, and smiles as their fingers begin their slow, pointless dance of just touching and braiding and feeling like they had done that very special night.

Looking at her face, seeing the warm affection in her eyes, the flush in her cheeks and the trust in her features, Davarax considers just how lucky he is. How the smallest change in the past might have lead both him and Dulcy on very different paths. How he could have never known the happiness he’s feeling now.

Coincidence or fate, he doesn’t care, it had brought him and Dulcy together and nothing is ever going to tear them apart.

Not his sister.

Not Macero Valentis.

Not even a nightmare of a mercenary who specializes in collecting trophies...

[bitchin-beskar]

Royal Affairs - I

A Choice is Made

Rating: T (Will change to M in future chapters)

Warnings: None, for this chapter. 

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 4k

A/N: Hey all!! This is a brand new AU that I’ve decided to dive headfirst into!! An anon sent @absurdthirst a message, asking if anyone had written King Din before, and I saw it on my feed, and that inspired this series!! (on the off chance that that anon follows me, if you wanna send me a message or something, I’d be glad to credit you as the inspiration behind this story!) This is an AU story where Mandalore never fell to the Empire, and Din is the King by right of conquest (winning the Darksaber). More of the AU will be explored in the story, but if you have any questions, feel free to send me some asks! I’ll gladly answer what I can, as long as it doesn’t spoil anything!! I wholly blame @mxndoscyarika for being the reason this chapter is out so soon. She is an enabler. (@ollypopp also got to hear a lot of rambles about this au... i’m not sorry). I hope you guys like it!!!!! Please let me know what you guys think!!!

Please consider reblogging and leaving a comment!! I love hearing what you guys think!!

When you’d gone to bed last night, you certainly weren’t expecting anything monumentous to happen today. Today was supposed to be just another day spent running your little apothecary with your sister, before going to sleep and doing it all over again tomorrow. 

But as you stared down at the small little green alien child hiding behind your counter, you knew that today wasn’t going to go the way you planned. 

“Hey, little one,” you murmured, crouching down, but staying far enough back that he wouldn’t feel trapped by you. “How’d you get in here, huh? Where are your parents?”

He looked up at you with his huge round eyes, his little lip quivering, and your heart broke. 

“Hey, it’s alright sweetheart,” you whispered, holding your hands out. “I’m not gonna hurt you, it’s okay–” You were a little thrown off when he waddled straight into your arms, and you instinctively clutched him to your chest. He buried his little face into your tunic and began to cry, little heart-wrenching sobs as his tiny body shook in your arms. 

Standing, you quickly moved to the back room, seeing your sister in the middle of bottling some healing bacta salve. 

“A’denla, can you cover the shop for me?”

She turned, about to ask why when she saw the sobbing child in your arms. You mouthed that you’d explain later, and she just nodded, turning and heading for the counter, leaving you alone in the back with the little one. 

You rocked the little baby back and forth, humming softly as you tried to get him to calm down. You didn’t have a whole lot of experience with children, but you knew enough from helping watch the children of other villagers while they ran their shops when you were younger. 

His tearful cries eventually slowed to little whimpers and hiccups, and you were able to encourage him to detach from your shirt. He rubbed at his eye with his little arm, and you were startled to see a dark green, almost black bruise on his tiny wrist. 

“Who hurt you, little one?” You gently took his hand, inspecting the bruise. He whimpered when you brushed your fingers over his skin. “I bet that hurts something fierce, huh?” 

You take him over to where your sister had the bacta salve out, setting him down gently on the countertop. “Can I use some of this, sweetheart? It’ll help you heal faster.” You’re not sure if he can understand you, but then he takes a long moment to look at the little bottle of blue gel you’re holding before looking up at you, solemnly nodding, his big ears flapping a little with the motion. 

You step away to wash your hands, grabbing a small strip of gauze as well. Dipping your fingers into the salve, you gently brush it over his bruise, your heart twisting every time his little features scrunch up in pain. Once his arm is sufficiently covered, you carefully wrap the gauze around the bruise, securing it with a small clip. 

He looks at his arm before looking back at you, cooing, a wide smile on his face, showing off his baby teeth. His arms raise in the universal sign for “up please!” and you’re unable to deny him, scooping him up in your arms, and cradling him once more to your chest. 

Pressing his face against your skin with a contented sigh, he nuzzles against you for a moment before you feel his breathing begin to even out. “It must be exhausting being so little, huh?” 

You carry him over to the small bassinet you have set up for when you’re watching your brother’s baby girl when he’s busy. The little child fits easily in the small padded space, and you carefully cover him up before stepping back. You have no idea how he got to your shop, and he’s not exactly a race you recognize. Hopefully his parents are somewhere nearby, otherwise you’re going to have a hard time finding them. Although, you’d noticed that his bruises seemed to be in the shape of a hand, and you really didn’t want to place him back into the arms of abusers. 

The tinkling of a bell rang through the shop, signalling the arrival of a customer. You quickly shut the door on the small room with the bassinet, walking towards the counter where your sister is. A’denla isn’t exactly the best with people, and you know she prefers to work in the back, so as soon as you get to the counter, you nudge her away so that she can go back to packaging up products. 

She gives you a grateful smile, ducking into the back as you turn to face two of perhaps the strangest customers you’ve ever met. One is a Rodian, which isn’t necessarily odd in of itself, but usually they tend to stay away from Mandalore. Most Mandalorian’s aren’t exactly known for their tolerance towards other races. The other appears to be human, but you’ve learned to not judge people by their outward appearances.  

“We’re looking for our bounty,” the Rodian grunts in Huttese, and your eyes widen a bit. Bounty hunters. You should’ve known. You’re also surprised that Huttese is the language he chose, especially considering the two main languages on Mandalore were Mando’a and Basic. Luckily for him, you’ve always been a fan of learning different languages, and you understand basic Huttese. “It got away from us. It’s very dangerous. Have you seen it?”

You raise an eyebrow. “What does your bounty look like?”

The other hunter chimes in, this time in Basic. “It’s fifty years old but looks like a child. Some weird green frog-like thing with big ears. It’s incredibly dangerous, and you need to tell us right now if you’ve seen it.”

You manage to school your features, but internally, you’re shocked. Their bounty is the little green child you just patched up and is now sleeping in your back room? And he’s fifty? 

Something about the way the two hunters are acting strikes you as odd, and you make a split second decision. You lie. 

“I’ve not seen any creatures like that,” your voice is smooth and calm, betraying nothing. “But I’ve been in my shop all day. I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.”

For a moment, you think they don’t believe you, but the human quickly nods, grasping his fellow hunter’s arm and tugging him out of your shop. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, sagging a little as the door swung shut. 

You ducked back to the backroom, seeing your sister waiting with her arms crossed. 

“You wanna tell me why you just lied outright to two bounty hunters?” She hissed, eyes flashing. “Do you know how kriffing stupid that was?” 

You stared blankly at her. “Do you really think I’d lie to bounty hunters without a damn good reason?” Your voice was incredulous. “I’m not a di’kut, A’denla.”

She huffed, crossing her arms. “Alright, what’s the reason then?” 

You sighed, slumping against one of the tables. “They said their bounty is fifty years old, but the little one who came into our shop? He’s a baby A’denla. He may be fifty, but it’s clear he doesn’t age the same as us! What could a baby do to warrant a bounty? He was hurt, and he was hurt badly. He was sobbing and shaking and it’s clear he was terrified. I wasn’t about to hand him over to the bounty hunters who probably hurt him that bad in the first place!”

A’denla looks shocked at your little outburst, before softening slightly. She’s got a soft spot for little kids too, and you know she wouldn’t be okay with handing a child over to bounty hunters. 

“Fine, but if this brings hell down on us, I’m telling buir it was your fault, okay?”

You rolled your eyes, grabbed a basket of products, and went back out front to restock the shelves.

***

The little one had slept for a couple of hours, but now he was wide awake, and demanding your attention. You’d done your best to keep him occupied out of sight in case the bounty hunters came back, but so far, the coast had been clear. 

The door suddenly burst open, and Vyshena rushed inside. She owned a shop a couple doors down that sold mechanical parts, so she was a regular, often needing basic medical supplies to patch herself up after being a little too careless with a socket wrench.

“What do you need to–” You started, only to be cut off as Vyshena practically flung herself onto the counter, her grease stained fingers gripping the wood lightly.

“Did you hear?!”

You almost winced at the squeal, and you felt little claws dig into your legs. You looked down, to see the child grasping your leg, his ears drooping as he looked up at you with sorrowful eyes.

“Did I hear what, Vys?”

You bent down to pick up the little one, smoothing one hand over his ear as Vys started in on a rant.

“The King is coming! Apparently his kid went missing and he’s tracking him down! Y’know, he used to be a bounty hunter, so it only makes sense that he’d track his own kid down, apparently there’s a bounty from the Empire on the little guy and–”

You looked up as Vys suddenly stopped, and your brow furrowed as she made a choking sound, her eyes wide as saucers as she stared at you.

“And what, Vys?”

Instead of answering, her arm raised shakily, pointing at the little bundle you held on your hip. Her mouth was gaping, and she looked like she was about to pass out.

“Vys, are you alright?”

Her eyes flickered between your face and the kid multiple times before she sucked in a gasp. “WHAT?”

You actually flinched back at her sudden shout, and the kid whimpered, burying his face in your side.

“Vys!”

“I’m sorry, but how do you– where did– HOW DID YOU GET THE KING’S KID??”

Your eyes widened. “I’m sorry, what?”

“YOU HEARD ME!”

“What is all this racket about– oh, hi Vys.” A’denla came out from the back, her hands full of bottled bacta salve. “What’s going on?”

Vys sputtered, and so you mumbled “Apparently this is the King’s son?” As you gesture to the giggling baby on your hip.

A’denla’s jaw dropped, and she nearly dropped the bacta salve. “Are you kidding me??”

You shook your head, feeling faint, and Vys started laughing hysterically, which got the little one going too. “Not helping,” you muttered, but you couldn’t help but smile at how happy the little one looked.

“Maker, what are we gonna do?”

Your sister’s moan was mostly drowned out by the giggling, but you frowned thoughtfully. “Vys, hold him please,” you said, handing her the still laughing child, even as your request caused her to audibly shut her mouth. You rummaged through the drawers behind the counter before you found a spare sheet of paper and a pen. A’denla tried to see what you were doing but you waved her off, writing as fast as you could.

“There,” you muttered, folding up the paper, handing it to Vys in exchange for the kid. “Take this to one of the guards. They should be able to get it to the King quickly enough. It states that his son is safe, and here in the apothecary. We’re gonna close early just as an added precaution.”

Vys nodded, and you turned to A’denla. “I also wrote what I could remember about the two bounty hunters who came in, they’re probably the ones who kidnapped the kid to begin with.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” your sister sighed. “Maker, am I glad you lied to them when they asked about the kiddo.”

“Me too.” You turned back to Vys. “Go, get that to a guard. I’ll wait here.”

Vys nodded shakily, still a little pale, but she dashed out of the shop. A’denla opened her mouth, but closed it again quickly.

“Go on, spit it out.”

She shook her head. “Buir is never gonna believe this.” You snickered, imaging your mother’s face when she found out that the King of Mandalore’s son had wandered into your apothecary.

“You should go home and tell her. I’d hate for her to hear about this from someone else.” A’denla looked worried, but you shook her off. “I’m closing the store anyways. It’s not like I won’t need your help.”

“If you’re sure?”

“Yes, go.”

After a little more persuading, A’denla finally left, leaving you and the little one alone in the shop. He was still perched on your hip, and for a moment, you stood in the middle of the store, mind racing.

“I can’t believe you’re actually the King’s son,” you muttered, looking down at the wide-eyed child. “Just my luck, huh?”

He cooed at you, playing with the fabric of your top. Your eyes fell to the gauze wrapped around his arm, and you sighed. “I guess we better check on that, buddy. Make sure you’re healing alright.”

Just like before, he was a good patient, not too squirmy as you carefully unwound the gauze. His bruise was healing nicely, and you carefully applied a little more bacta for good measure, re-wrapping his arm. Right as you were pinning it in place, a loud banging sounded from the front door.

You jumped, hand flying to your chest. Carefully picking the kid up, you made your way to the door, peering through the curtains, eyes widening as you realized just who was standing there.

Unlocking the door, you pulled it open, stepping to the side to let the odd looking group inside.

You recognized Fennec Shand, a notorious bounty hunter and partner to Boba Fett, who was also a part of the group. Both were known for their close kinship with the King. There was a woman you didn’t recognize, but judging by the small tattoo on her upper cheek, she had ties to the Republic.

Finally, clad in full beskar’gam, was the King. His beskar was unpainted, the silver gleaming in the low light of your shop. He had no shortage of weapons, his spear was strapped to his back, and a blaster and various vibroblades were strapped to his legs. But the most prominent was the Darksaber that hung from his belt.

Dropping into a curtsy, you bowed your head in respect, a quiet “my king,” leaving your lips. You’d heard stories about the King, about his strength and speed in battle, but especially from his time as a bounty hunter. He’d been one of, if not the best bounty hunter in the galaxy, before winning the Darksaber from Maul in a duel, granting him the right to the throne of Mandalore.

Some said he was cruel, terrifying and dangerous, not to mention volatile. You had no way of knowing. He wasn’t one for major public appearances, so knowledge on his true personality was reserved for those closest to him.

There was a tense silence for a moment when suddenly, the child on your hip reached his little arms out towards the King, babbling loudly. He had a large smile on his face and was wriggling desperately to get out of your grasp. 

The King took a step forward, his own hands stretching out towards his son. You carefully handed the child over, your bare hands brushing over the King’s leather gloves as you transferred the little one to his father’s arms. 

“Su’cuy, ad’ika.” 

The King’s voice was barely more than a whisper as he pressed his helmet against the little one’s brow, his hand pressing against the child’s back to hold him close. 

You fold your arms in front of you, absently noting the way that you already miss the comforting weight of the kid on your hip. You look away from the King and his son, not wanting to intrude on their reunion. 

The others seem a little uncomfortable, like you, and thankfully, the woman you don’t know breaks the awkward silence. 

“You said in your note that you had two bounty hunters come looking for him?”

You’re looking at the woman, so you don’t notice the way the King’s head whips in your direction, nor the way his hand falls to rest on the hilt of the Darksaber. 

“Mmhmm, a Rodian and a human.” You pause. “Actually, I’d almost forgotten, we had security cameras installed about a month ago, they should be on the holos.”

“Why bother with security cameras?” Fett cut in, and you were taken aback by the blatant suspicion in his voice. “This isn’t exactly a high crime area.”

You sighed. “We had a break in a couple months ago. Some di’kut took off with half our supply of bacta salve. We’re one of the only apothecaries on Mandalore licensed to make it, and unfortunately, that usually means we have a large stock, and the prices are pretty steep.” 

“You didn’t report it.”

You narrowed your eyes at the accusatory tone. “I figure if someone’s going to go to all that trouble just to steal bacta salve and not even touch the register or safe, they probably needed it. It’s diluted when it’s in a salve, so it can’t be sold on the black market, unlike pure bacta.” 

“What’s this?”

You started at the King’s voice, turning to look in his direction, seeing him inspecting the gauze wrapped around the little one’s arm. You frowned. “The little one had a pretty bad bruise, it was nearly black. I applied some bacta salve and wrapped it. I checked it just before you got here, it looks a lot better.”

“And I suppose you just thought it was okay to–”

“Fett.”

Your eyes widened at the King’s tone, looking away as the green-armoured bounty hunter grumbled, but stayed silent. 

“I’m a licensed medic, and I have been for close to ten years now. I know what I’m doing.” Perhaps your voice was a little defensive, but you weren’t going to apologize for easing the kid’s pain, no matter the opinion of grumpy men in beskar. 

“Thank you.”

You nodded at the King, eyes flicking up to his helmet before looking away, your cheeks growing warm. You weren’t sure what it was about him, but something about the way he seemed to stare directly into your soul, even through the beskar made you feel... odd.

He handed the little one to the woman with the tattoo, before turning back to you. “May I see the holos?”

You nodded again, turning and walking towards the back of the shop, where the holos were stored. It wasn’t a large room, an old refurbished closet really, and it was a bit tight for one person, let alone a second covered in beskar. You opened up the data station and pulled up the holos from earlier, trying to ignore the silent mountain of a man behind you. You could feel his eyes on your back, and you tried to suppress the shiver that ran down your spine. 

You found the correct timestamp, and enlarged the holovid, pointing to the figures on the screen. “This is when they entered.”

Suddenly, there was a large warm hand on the small of your back as the King stepped up behind you, his other hand coming down to rest on the surface of the table, caging you in as he leaned forward. He was peering over your shoulder, and you inadvertently sucked in a breath at the sudden closeness. 

The two of you watched the footage in silence. Unfortunately, you didn’t have audio to go with the holos, so all the King would have to go off of is the visual. 

“Is there anything distinctive about them that you can remember?” He murmured, the rasp of his helmet’s modulator doing nothing to hide the exquisite way his voice sounded in your ear. 

“Um–” You trailed off, trying to focus, which was especially hard with the King so kriffing close. “Uh, the Rodian? He spoke Huttese.” You could’ve smacked yourself. Of course the Rodian spoke Huttese, it was a common language bounty hunters learned, and Rodian’s were known for speaking it along with their native Rodese. 

The King let out a sigh, and just as you were about to apologize, he thanked you. 

“That– that helps. Thank you, very much.” His hand pressed a little more into your back, and you fought the urge to arch into his touch. You weren’t some child with a crush damn it, you were a village shopkeeper and he was your king. It would be entirely inappropriate, although your traitorous mind was quick to remind you that his touching you could be considered inappropriate as well. 

You told your mind to shut the hell up. 

“You’re welcome, my king.” 

There, that was a perfectly respectable answer. Now all you had to do was avoid embarrassing yourself any further, and–

“Please, darling. Call me Din.”

Well, there went that plan. 

You bit your lip and looked down at the keyboard, hoping that the King–Din, didn’t see your hands tighten at the sound of his voice when he called you darling. 

“Can you give me a copy of these holovids?” 

You nodded, grateful for something, anything to distract you from the peculiar man at your back. Copying the holos onto a drive unfortunately didn’t take very long, and when you turned to hand them to the Ki–Din, your eyes widened when you realized just how close he was to you. Your chests were practically touching, and you had to tilt your head up to be able to look at his helmet, which was aimed directly at you. 

He carefully took the drive, tucking it into one of the pockets on his belt, before stepping back, crossing one arm over his chest and bowing. To you. 

“You’ve done me a great service. I won’t forget it.” 

You swallowed harshly. For a moment, it had sounded like he’d said “I won’t forget you,” although it had to be wishful thinking on your part. He was your King, you were so far removed from royalty it wasn’t even funny. He was just being polite. 

“I’m just glad you were able to reunite with your son. He seems to love you a lot.”

“His name is Grogu. I was blessed with him as my foundling, and I treasure him greatly.”

You smiled. It was clear as day how much the King loved his son, and how the little one returned those feelings tenfold. To be blessed with a foundling was a great honor, and it didn’t surprise you one bit that your King had been blessed in such a way. 

He stepped back to make space for you to leave the small room, and you hurried to where the others were undoubtedly waiting, only just now realizing how long the two of you had been gone.

Fett and Shand were gone by the time you got back to the main floor of your shop. Just the woman and the little one–Grogu–stood their waiting. The King easily plucked Grogu from the woman’s grasp, and with a tight nod, she left your shop as well, leaving you alone with the King and his son. 

He turned back to you, his helmet once more trained on your face. “I must thank you again, for everything.”

You felt your cheeks grow warm at the gratitude dripping from his words. “It was nothing, my king,” you murmured, curtsying once more. 

As you slowly straightened back up, the King reached out and ever so gently lifted your chin, the leather of his glove pressing into your skin. You were forced to look at him, even as the fluttering in your stomach renewed with vigour.

“I’ve already told you, darling. Call me Din.” 

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[vagrantblvrd]

Also.

Din going back to Tatooine after the season two finale because he’s heard about Boba and Fennec offing Bib Fortuna and taking over, right?

Boba looks at Din who’s all :(((((((((((((((( because the Jedi took his kid.

It’s for the best, really. Grogu’s with his kind now, and Din saw what the Jedi is capable of, knows Grogu’s in good hands.

Din’s great, it’s just like.

Raining.

Inside his helmet.

Boba sighs and Fennec rolls her eyes as she grabs booze because it’s going to be that kind of day, isn’t it?

Boba asks Din who the Jedi is.

“...Cara said his name was Skywalker?”

Boba is like what.

And then brief rundown of That Time Some Assholes Booted Boba Fett Into a Sarlacc Pit, but also.

“Don’t blame them for it,” because Boba did his best to kill them first, they were just better at it in the end, and anyway, it was a job, you know? Nothing personal. And then, “Skywalker, though, huh?”

An Din is like “...yes?”

Boba sighs, because he’s known two of the bastards in his time, you know?

One of them went bad, the other has bad taste in friends.

(Like, hey, no real hard feelings about Luke, but Han? Complete bastard, and no, Boba’s not being irrational.)

Din maybe sticks around for a while because nowhere else to go and such.

Boba looks at the Darksaber clipped to Din’s belt like he hears the lie, but no skin off his nose what Din does, and anyway, just having Din around is enough to have people thinking twice about trying to start anything with Boba.

One Mandalorian bounty hunter is bad enough, but two of them? Might as well dig your own grave.

Din is like, really? But Boba doesn’t seem to mind him being around and doesn’t ask questions as to why he’s there.

Fennec mostly leaves him be, but after a week or so she drags him off into the middle of nowhere and they spend a day sniping womp rats and other assorted pests.

They trade pointers, tips about the things they do best and how to counter them.

It could be a mistake because they tell each other kind of things that can be used against them, get them killed, but it’s like. They’re not enemies anymore, if they ever were that - never personal, just a job, survival. Not...quite friends really, but there’s an understanding there like there is between Din and Boba, and Boba and Fennec, and it’s just.

Yes.

AND THEN.

Some asshole in a hooded cloak shows up almost exactly like he did all those years ago when Jabba was running the place and Boba is just.

Tired.

So tired.

Yells at Din that his young man is here to see him and he and Fennec go off and idk, plot world domination or something elsewhere, who can say.

Meanwhile Luke looks at Din all, “So, uh. I’m here to rescue you?”

Din is ??? because what does that mean??? And also, “Boba’s not my enemy.”

Hell if he knows what Boba is, or Fennec, come to think of it, but it works for them.

“Huh, well that changes things,” Luke tells him, and takes a seat next to Din. Snags the glass of whatever hellbrew he’s been nursing because it’s foul, and also alcohol content to kill a man and such. “Also, that’s disgusting.”

Din is like well, yeah, but they’re on Tatooine and this isn’t a high-class joint, and he’s pretty sure no one bothered cleaning out the bones from the rancor pit after some dick came in and killed poor thing years ago.

(Boba’s told him stories, but Din maybe doesn’t realize that Luke was the dick who killed the rancor and broke its handler’s heart like a bastard.)

Luke is suspiciously quiet after that, because look, okay, look. Extenuating circumstances and whatnot, and anyway.

“Grogu set my school on fire.”

Because he misses his dad and Luke had other things on his mind and forgot to give Din his number - to contact Grogu! Not for other reasons having to do Din’s face and the fact it’s a very nice one!

Wait.

That came out wrong, but yeah, Din’s kid’ is a little terror and Luke doesn’t know what else he was expecting because he knew Yoda, and anyway.

Luke Skwalker walks into a shady as hell place on Tatooine and gives a tall, dark, mysterious stranger he’s known for all of ten minutes his number, because of course he does.

This is the story Din tells Leia and Han and the others when Luke takes him to meet the family and they ask him he and Luke met.

Luke never hears the end of it even after he tells them, wait, no, no that is not how they met at all, Din. >:(

But it’s too late to do anything about it now and Luke never hears the end of it.

NEVER.

[221bshrlocked]

Deepest of Desires

Y’all I don’t know why I’m doing this to myself but here we go. I’ve already talked about what some of Pedro’s Characters’ kinks would be but I need to compile them in one place...don’t ask me why. All suggestions for any characters are welcomed, I will happily add to the filth on this list.

Warnings: NSFW under cut

Words: 6K+

The Mandalorian - Breeding Kink. Period.

You somehow don’t notice it at first. He’s always careful not to make a mess of you because he thinks you deserve to be worshiped and not taken like a common whore. But then it gradually escalates and you’re not sure what caused this new change but you don’t mind it. Little do you know, Din noticed the little bump in your arm one night when he was kissing every inch of your skin. And something switches inside him and he becomes more needy and desperate whenever he fucks you. The first time he comes in you, you think it’s because he may have been distracted so you don’t think too much about it. The second time, you blame it on the kid cooing from the other room just as Din comes. It’s the third time that gives you an inclination as to what Din has been doing because not only does he cum in you, but he continues to fuck you and moves his hands down to feel your combined juices soaking your skin and the sheets. You feel overwhelmed by how much it turns him on but say nothing, choosing to bring it up another time. When it finally rolls around, and you’re in the middle of the most passionate, sweaty, crazed sex ever, you pull him down and mouth at his jaw, begging him to cum in you. Din freezes for a moment and you hope you haven’t said the wrong thing. Before you think twice of it, he’s hooking one leg up against his shoulder and railing into you, whispering his need to fill you up with his cum over and over again until you’re leaking with it. You could barely manage to respond, moaning when he tells you how often he thinks about breeding you, how much he wishes he could fuck a baby in you, and how hard he gets when he pictures you nursing his kid while taking care of the little womp rat. And you all but lose it when he cums in you and continues to fuck you, not caring about the filthy squelching sounds emitting from where you’re joined as he ensures you reach your pleasure. As soon as he tells you how he wishes he could fuck your tits when they’re full of milk and suck on them until you’re oversensitive and you’re soaking him, you’re coming on his cock and are reduced to a mess as he pushes his cum deep into your aching cunt to ensure that not a single drop is wasted. And it’s not until later that he suggests you take the implant out so he could see your belly growing with his child.

Agent Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels - Bondage, preferably with his lasso or whip.

Jack loves to play in the bedroom but he never brings it up with you, afraid that his tastes might be a little too much for someone as sweet and innocent as you. You’ve only known each other for a couple of months but he’s been smitten when you walked in and showed him who’s boss during one of the training sessions. And ever since then, he’s wanted nothing more than to tie you up to his bed and have his way with you all night long. But he’s reluctant because even if this dating thing is official, he’s still the senior agent and he should be taking care of you everywhere, including the bed. So mark him surprised when you literally crawl to him on your knees one day with his lasso hanging loosely around your neck and tell him to take you on the floor. Jack loses whatever self control he has left and instantly take hold of the lasso, pulling you towards the couch until you’re kneeling in between his spread thighs. He tightens it just a little as he nods to his belt, almost coming as soon as he feels your lips around his cock and your nails digging into his thighs. You beg him to take what he wants and he trusts that you’ll tell him to stop should you feel uncomfortable. And that’s how his little games with you start. You’re either following him around with the rope around your neck like a fucking collar or you’re bending over or getting on all fours as he expertly whips your backside without breaking skin. It makes him hard knowing how much you trust him and he finally has the courage to ask you if it was possible to tie you to his bed. You’re all giggles and smiles before you run up to his room and strip for him, barely letting a moment pass after he ties you before you’re begging him to fuck you dumb. He takes you in as many positions as possible all night long and you take everything he gives you like a little sweet girl. Whether your hands are tied or your legs are tied and spread out open for him, not a single complaint leaves your lips. And he keeps fucking you long after the two of you are sensitive because he can’t believe how lucky he got with you and how willing you are for him to take over.

Javier Peña - Degradation in the forms of Dirty Talk, Choking, and Spanking.

There is a lot of pent up frustration and aggression that Javi keeps bottled up throughout the day. And you realize this job is really getting to him when he stops visiting his friends after work. When you ask him why he doesn’t go to any of them anymore, his answer is surprising. It’s not because he doesn’t want to have sex anymore, no. It’s because he can’t get the same satisfaction out of a simple fuck. And when you press him further, he tells you that he would never want to mistreat one of them how he wants to because they’ve seen enough and they don’t deserve seeing this ugly side of him and they really don’t deserve getting called all sorts of names that fly through his lips in the moments of passion. So you strike a bargain with him. It’s much more difficult to convince him than you think it would be considering how much you know he enjoys this and you leave it on the table until one day, he knocks on your door and apologizes because he can’t take it anymore. There is an awkwardness to what the two of you do in the beginning and he does nothing of what you know he yearns to do. But slowly, his touches get rougher, his words get harsher, and before you know it, he’s no longer the private, somehow shy agent that you’ve worked with for a few years now. No. He’s a man who twists his hands into your hair and pulls you up to him when he needs to bite your neck. He slaps your ass until you’re a crying mess and then he calls you his ‘sweet fucking cockslut’ because you’re taking him so well. You occasionally find his hand around your throat as he rails into you against the wall or in the shower or even on the floor when he’s desperate, and you can tell that he enjoys this more than he’s letting on because the louder you whine for him, the harder his thrusts become and the tighter his grip around your neck is. He loves sees the bruises after and he especially enjoys it when you don’t bother to hide the handprints beneath a scarf. No, you wear it proudly so everyone knows not to fuck with you. And it takes you a while to notice that it’s the fastest way he could get you coming, something that he realizes much before you, hence the constant need to keep his fingers tight around your your lovely skin. But as rough as Javi gets, he also knows how to take care of you after. You smile when you hear gruff voice whispering how perfect you were for him and how he can’t believe you’re letting him do this and how lucky he is to have someone like you giving him this much pleasure and allowing him to use you as if you were nothing more than a harlot. He leaves you sore and bruised most of the time, and his words echo in your mind until you fall asleep and dream of him fucking you over and over again...

My cockslut...Little fucking whore...Letting me fuck you like a bitch in heat...This is my filthy cunt...You belong to me querida...Look how pathetic you are...You gone cockdumb now hermosa? I own you...My fuckdoll...My filthy girl...I’m gonna fill all your holes...Such a good girl for letting me fuck this ass...You’re mine my little whore...No one gets to fuck this except me...You’re nothing but a quick fuck that gets me off...So filthy...Worthless...Wet pussy...Scream my name...Or better yet, shut the fuck up so we don’t wake the neighbors...Fucking hell this cunt is so wet...knew it...Knew you were a whore.

Pero Tovar - Spitting Kink or anything with fluids really.

He’s still unsure of how he managed to have you lay in his arms night after night. He swears this is a dream because you’re an angel and he’s a monster. But you go to him night after night, begging him to have his way with you. Tovar loses his mind when you moan his name so innocently and he can’t bring himself to deny you anything when you’re asking him so sweetly and spread out for him. He does, however, grow quiet when he watches you one day as you get on your knees and suck on his cock until he cums down your throat. But that’s not what surprised him, no. It’s that you’re drooling and spitting and making a mess of yourself. And Tovar likes how you look when your chest is messy with your spit and his seed. This interest only gets worse when he fucks you so hard you squirt around him, and he wants to do that again. He wants to bring you this much pleasure again. So he fucks you hard and deep until you’re soaking the two of you and then he’s coming hard. And before he does anything, you’re leaning down and licking his cock, humming when you taste yourself on him. And that seems to be it for him because he grabs your chin and forces you to open your mouth, and before you can say anything, he’s spitting twice in on your tongue and shoving his fingers deep down your throat. He’s proud of your shocked expression and swears into the night when you get on all fours and start sucking him off again, this time knowing that he has his spit and yours on his cock. And that’s how it is for the two of you from now on. Him spitting down your throat to make sure your mouth is wet enough for his cock, or sometimes spitting on his hands and pushing them past your lips so he could keep you quiet. Occasionally, you’ll ask him to hand you a cup of water but instead, he drinks it and raises an eyebrow for you to open your mouth. You do so without hesitation every time and it almost always ends with the two of you fucking like animals on the floor or against the wall. And one hundred percent of the time, the two of you have to go wash because there is spit and cum and sweat and your juices drenching the two of you.

Oberyn Martell - Touch and anything that involves fruits and drinks.

It’s intimidating in the beginning. Actually, the act itself is not intimidating. He is intimidating. Prince Oberyn is anything but shy and it takes you a while to realize that you shouldn’t be shameful around him. As a matter of fact, you notice that he will reward you if you treat him as a lover and not as your Prince. He teases you the first few times, telling you that there was no way you were the same person he’s heard so many poems about. You grow bolder with him and beg him to lay down as you walk across the room and take hold of the basket of fruits. Oberyn raises an eyebrow at your actions but says nothing, spreading himself out and whispering a quick ‘careful’ when he sees you bring a knife out from between your thighs. He watches as you expertly cut the large orange, and hisses when you begin to squeeze it on his nipples, down his chest, and finally on his cock. The nectar is cold but his eyes never leave you as you lean down and lick him dry, his hands going instantly into your hair when you gag on his cock. He cums down your throat not too long after that and pulls you towards his lips, shoving his tongue into your mouth and moaning when he tastes himself and the orange juice. And it becomes a habit after that. Sometimes he’s drenching you with sour liquids and massaging them across your muscles and other times, you’re licking them off of his warrior body. It comes to a point where he no longer enjoys fucking you unless there’s some sticky juices slipping between the two of you. He doesn’t care what it is. All he cares for is touching every inch of your skin with whatever viscous material you chose this time and it’s his happy day when you bring in honey and drip it all over yourself and him. It’s the filthiest it’s ever gotten between the two of you and you notice how he can’t keep his hands to himself anymore. He’s torn between fucking you into the next kingdom and kissing and touching your sweet soft skin. But he’s an intelligent man and he finds a way to do all of that simultaneously, bringing you closer to your pleasure much faster than before. Who knew honey and fruits would make the Prince of Dorne this unhinged.

Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales - Mile High Club. Enough said.

It’s something the two of you have briefly discussed but never actually had a chance to act upon. But then Pope approaches the two of you for a job that doesn’t sound too exciting even though it pays well. As soon as he mentions how they need Frankie to fly them to the drop point though, you’re both nodding furiously and telling him that you’re in, smiling to each other when he tells you he’ll send you the details before leaving. You’re not sure how it will work but you agree that you’d figure it out once you’re in the plane. It’s not until you’re in the air that you realize how quiet you have to be, with the guys sitting outside and talking through the plan. You’re thankful that Frankie manages to convince them that he needs you to co-pilot the aircraft with him since it’s been a while. Once you’re up in the air and it’s safe to put the plane on ‘auto-pilot’ you’re moving across the small space and kissing down Frankie’s neck. He’s still looking ahead to ensure that nothing surprising happens but it’s getting more difficult to pay attention when all he wants to do is commit every little nip and kiss and lick to memory. You’re shoving your hands down his pants immediately, knowing that one of the guys could come in any moment and you smile when Frankie moans and swears beneath his breath. You don’t tease him, kneeling down between his thighs and taking him in your mouth until his cock hits the back of your throat. He almost cums right then and there but tries his hardest to last a little longer, if only to enjoy this and feel the adrenaline kick in a little more. As soon as he looks down and watches spit corner at your lips, he’s groaning and moaning your name and you nip at the underside of his cock to shush him, telling him that you really didn’t want to give the other guys a show. He obeys your warning and tries to keep himself in check, torn between removing his hands from the controller to push you down on his cock further, and begging you to strip down and sit on his lap as he continues to pilot the plane. The former seems like a better option and he does tangle his fingers in your hair before pushing you down and savoring the sounds of your throat gagging on his cock. When he sees you touching yourself through your pants, he cums down your throat, so far down that you don’t even taste him when he finally pulls you off of him. You’re both panting and the windows have gotten a little fogged up and it smells like musk and sweat in here but you don’t find it in yourself to care as you stand up and wait for him to right himself before opening the door. You’re met with a couple of whistles and you can’t help but laugh at how flustered Frankie is when the guys continue to tease him. Oh well, it was worth it.

Comandante Veracruz - Exhibitionism.

It’s no secret that the Comandante loves to have his women screaming his name into the night. But when you’re assigned to him, he makes it his life’s mission to ensure that no man will come near you. He’s heard of how you like to play and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t get you to start a little game with him. Not even a month in his camp and Veracruz has you writhing in his bed. He fucks you every chance he gets, and he tries to convince himself that it’s because he’s gotten bored with the other women. But he knows very well that it’s only because he’s gotten so fucking obsessed with you that he can’t stop himself. He doesn’t realize that you’ve stopped sleeping around as well and you don’t bother to mention it, mostly because you know it gives him a little edge when you fall into bed with him. He becomes a crazed man when you come to him in the night but then he sees you wrestling with one of his men and he loses his shit. He doesn’t care how pathetic it looks when he comes through the late night camp and drags you across so every one knows who you belong to. Your laughter only makes it worse and he isn’t able to make it into his tent, instead pushing you against one of the trees that’s too close to camp and ordering you to strip down. You do as you’re told and bite back from sobbing when he shoves his cock deep into your cunt. He doesn’t go slow, doesn’t wait for you to get used to him. He just fucks you and keeps fucking you until you’re screaming his name and telling everyone how well he fucks you. He’s whispering filthy things in your ears and you feel his cock grow impossibly harder when you tell him how good it feels and how much you love pleasuring him so everyone could know who makes him cum. It should be the other way around but he doesn’t care, continuing his assault and occasionally spanking your ass when you’re not loud enough for him. The camp grows quiet and he’s sure it’s because everyone can hear the two of you hate-fucking the shit out of each other. When he cums in your cunt, he doesn’t give you any reprieve, instead dragging you again the few steps into his tent and not bothering to tie it closed as he pushes you to your knees and forces you to gag on his cock. Anyone can walk and he’s sure that anyone can hear him calling you his filthy cocklut and you’re giving his ego a boost with all the noises you’re making and how much you’re begging him to take you out to the bonfire and fuck you in front of all those men so they know who owns this pussy. Perhaps one day he would do just that, but for now, he’s content with having you to himself. Well, except your screams that is.

Marcus Moreno - Age Play.

He’s not sure what to do anymore. All he knows is that he hears you telling Missy that she needs to get ready so ‘daddy’ isn’t late for work and he has to run to the bathroom before he embarrasses himself. After that little incident, he rarely leaves the two of you alone when he’s at home, always making sure that he’s around just to hear you say that godforsaken word again. He feels guilty for thinking of you that way and he tries to convince himself that he should stop because you’re his kid’s nanny and you probably already have someone closer to your age and it occurs to him that he is getting turned on because of the age gap and how sweet and innocent you look. He feels bad for avoiding you but he doesn’t know what else to do, afraid that he’d lose his control one day and pounce on you. But you’re cornering him one night and you’re asking if you’d done anything wrong and he says that everything’s fine and he’s just been tired but you don’t believe him. He’s about to tell you when Missy walks in crying and she’s telling you that she had nightmares and she wants to go Marcus but you kneel down and take her in your arms and tell her that daddy needs to rest too. Your eyes widen in horror at what you just said and you look up at Marcus only to find him clenching his jaw tightly and thank god the kid is already half asleep in your arms because as soon as your eyes trail down, you find a large tint in his pants and when you make eye contact again, you know. You know why he’s been avoiding you and you see him blushing because he knows that you know. Marcus thinks he’s screwed up and when you walk into his office after putting Missy to sleep again, he’s embarrassed and tripping over his words. But you’re not giving him a chance to say anything and you’re pushing on his chest until he’s sitting on the couch and you’re unbuckling his belt and it’s all happening so fast. Marcus feels his heart skip a beat when he sees you looking through your eyelashes and begging for him, for daddy, to cum down your throat. From then on, it’s hidden glances and soft touches and Marcus waits for you every night in his room, his eyes beaming with joy when you walk in and coo in his ears. He’s hard in an instant when he hears you call him ‘daddy’ and he switches between making love to you and fucking you into the next world every time he hears you whisper how much you enjoy it when he uses you and how much you love it when he calls you his ‘little girl,’ and how you’ve longed to hear him say that he owns your pussy because he’s your daddy and because no one else gets to fuck his sweet little angel. You tell him everything, of how long you’ve wanted him and how none of the boys at college can come close to the way he makes you feel and how much you wish you could stay in his bed forever because he makes you feel safe and he’s your daddy and he takes care of you. And it’s not long before Marcus realizes that maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be a bad idea for Missy to have a little brother or sister.

Ezra - Cockwarming.

He’s shy when the two of you shift towards a more physical relationship, mostly because it’s been a while since he’d had anyone he could call his, especially someone as beautiful and kind as yourself. He’s not sure what he’s allowed to do at first but he quickly comes to the realization that you would let him do anything he wanted with you. He’s overwhelmed by your affections and how deep they run because they mirror his own. The idea comes to him one night when the two of you are back in his pod. Neither of you have the energy for anything but he really wants to feel you against him so he begs you to open up for him. You do, thinking he was going to take it slow and pleasure the both of you until you fall asleep in each other’s arms, but then he’s not moving at all, not one muscle, and you quickly realize that he just wants to be inside you and doesn’t care for moving or for doing anything. The thought makes you clench tightly around him and he hisses in your ears, begging you to relax so he doesn’t cum. Not yet. It slowly becomes a habit and more often than not, the two of you are relishing the feeling of being warm and in each other’s arms. His cock twitches inside you and makes your pussy soak him through, squeezing him tightly until he can’t take it anymore and he’s coming deep inside you. Neither of you move as he fills your cunt with his seed and he bucks his hips involuntarily before the two of you relax. You wake up in the middle of the night and he’s still inside you and you sigh when you feel him harden the more you flutter around him. It doesn’t take long for Ezra to pull you closer to him in his sleep and you shut your eyes to enjoy how full you feel before you let your mind relax until you’re softly snoring against him once more.

Maxwell Lord - Praise Kink.

You’re not sure if he’s being serious or not when he mentions it in passing, but you start to notice how he reacts to your words whenever the two of you are alone. He relaxes and leans into you the more you praise him and tell him how good he’s been for you and how lucky you are to have him. It gradually becomes a thing in bed as well except it’s his turn to whisper those sweet filthy words in your ears as he’s pulsating inside you and filling you up over and over again. You were never into this because of how embarrassing it sounds but you find yourself growing hotter and shaking with need the more he tells you that you’re his ‘good little sweetheart’ and that he doesn’t want anyone else but you because you’ve stuck with him through the tough times and now that he literally owns the world, he’ll bring you anything your heart desires. You’re telling him that he’s the only thing you desire because no one treats you so well or cares for you this much or thinks of you so often and Maxwell’s heart shatters because he’s never thought he could hear those words from anyone and he loses himself and takes you as many times during the night as he can because you’ve fallen into his lap and he can’t imagine a life without you and he grows harder in your cunt the more you tell him how good he makes you feel and how perfect he fits inside you and how full you are from his hard and fat cock and it brings him over the edge. So every time he bends you over his desk or pulls you to his lap, you’re both exchanging sweet words to each other because he’s never felt like he could bring the world to anyone but he can with you and you never thought you would every feel this satisfied by someone and you are.

Dave York - Con/Non-Con Play, and the knife/gun comes into play here. (this is dubious so please don’t read on if this makes you uncomfy)

You had some inclination as to what you were getting yourself into when you started working with Dave. He was your senior in the field and never once did you think of breaking his rules. But you do one day and his calm resolve shakes you to your core because his tone maybe patient but his eyes are swimming with anger and frustration. You listen to his orders and nod before going your separate ways. Something is off, however, when you go back to your hotel room and find it darker than you left it. You have about three seconds to react, but you’re three seconds too late and your training is about to kick in when the familiar musky cologne hits your nostrils. You know who it is immediately but his hold tightens around your throat and he’s biting into your neck to let you know who’s in control. You can feel him smile against your heated skin and you’re not sure what he wants but then his hand travels down and roughly grabs at your cunt through your jeans. You’re already a wet mess but Dave is full of surprises, and your eyes widen in horror when you feel a knife to your neck. He breaks for a single moment, asking you if this is what you want, and your brief nod makes him chuckle because he didn’t think he’d be able to get this far but you’re letting him take over. He pushes the knife harder against you and you’re whining and asking him to not hurt you. You took a wild guess at what he was silently asking from you and you’re right on the mark, no pun intended, when his grip tightens around you and he’s shoving you against the wall and ripping through your clothes. You’re begging him not to hurt you and it eggs him on. You don’t have time to think of a proper reaction as you feel the knife dig into your shoulder blades, bordering pain and pleasure. He’s telling you that he owns your body, your breaths, your noises, your arousal, and there’s nothing you could do about it. Because he can kill you with the simplest flick of his wrist. His cock twitches in his pants when you start crying and begging him to not take you but he’s already shoving his dick in your impossibly wet cunt and he can’t believe he found someone who’s tastes run as dark as his. You’re sobbing at how good it feels and how shameless he is with his touches and you’re losing yourself to the pleasure. But right before you fall over the edge, you hear the sound of a gun clicking back and your eyes instantly widen at the sudden shift in the air. You turn around just in time to see Dave hold the gun to your throat while the knife is between his teeth. He’s looking dangerously at you and you realize he must have really had it with you today because he’s pulling out all the stops with you. One glance and you know the safety is off and at the realization of how far he’s willing to take this, you’re coming hard on his cock, soaking him and the your clothes and the ground. He continues to fuck you through it, not caring about the mess the two of you are making. When you lean down and start begging him to not cum in you because it’s not safe, his pace picks up and he shoves the gun in your mouth. One look at how wrecked and sweaty he is and you’re clenching tightly around him. He growls his release when he sees mascara running down your cheeks and he shoves the gun deeper in your throat until you’re gagging on it. He stops and pulls out just to watch his cum rolling down your thighs and he can’t hold back from pushing the handle of his knife in your cunt so you wouldn’t lose any more of his cum. You’re panting and shaking against him and he brings you to your bed and strips you down until you’re naked beneath him. He takes his clothes off as well and pushes himself against your back, telling you to get some rest because he as nowhere near done with you yet, making sure his tone conveys that you may have little choice in what he has in mind for you.

Marcus Pike - Somnophilia.

His hours are hellish, he knows that, but that doesn’t stop Marcus from wanting to sink into your sweet, wet cunt as soon as he gets home. He’s happy that you text him and tell him that you’d wait up for him but when he walks into the bedroom and sees the television playing while you’re fast asleep, he can’t bring himself to wake you up. So he shuts off the television and walks into the bathroom, taking himself in his hand and pretending it was your nimble fingers bringing him pleasure. And before he knows it, he’s coming hard on and makes a mess of himself. Not thinking much of it, he throws his shirt in the laundry and cleans up before slipping between the sheets and bringing you closer to him. It takes him a few moments to allow his heart to rest because you’re so beautiful and warm against him and he feels his cock twitch at the thought of you bringing him pleasure even in your sleep but he brushes the thought aside just as quickly as it comes because he would never do that to you. It’s a surprise when you’re doing laundry the next day and see proof of what he’d done and you feel a little guilty but also, you’re not sure why he didn’t wake you up. So you make sure to wait up for him and confront him, guilt eating you alive when he tells you that he didn’t want to disrupt your sleep because it wasn’t that important. But then you’re asking him why he doesn’t just have you while you’re asleep and you think you’ve gone too far because of the look on his face. But Marcus gulps and asks if you’d really be okay with that or not because the thought of him fucking you in your sleep is making him hard and ready. You feel your panties dampen just from thinking about it and you’re pushing him down on the bed and fucking him and telling him he could do anything he wanted to do with you and you wouldn’t mind. He cums with your name on his lips and you fall asleep immediately. He doesn’t think he’ll want to do it this soon but when he comes home the next day and you’re asleep, he thinks about it but decides not to. But then he sees what you wore to bed and he swears you did this on purpose. Before he thinks about it, he’s pushing your thighs open and licking at your cunt like a starved man, groping and cupping your breasts through the flimsy material of the lingerie and you’re moaning in your sleep but you’re not awake yet. He takes his pants off immediately and feels you clench around him as soon as he sheathes himself inside you. He thinks he’s died and went to heaven because he’s barely touched you and you’ve cum around his cock and he’s fucking you slow and deep, and you’re moaning in your sleep. He’s sweating from how much he’s holding back and he cant’ take his eyes off of your heavy chest and how willing you are. You’re at his mercy and the thought almost brings him over the edge but he holds back and continues to thrust into you until he feels like he’s going to lose his soul. He’s coming in your cunt but he doesn’t stop until there’s nothing left in him and he goes to sleep without cleaning you up because he’s probably going to wake up in the middle of the night and fuck you again and he wants to push in you easily when he does and just use his cum as lube. And he does, two more times. And still refuses to clean you up because he really wants to watch you wake up in the morning and feel your mixed cum between your thighs and know that he used you for his own pleasure...

Max Phillips - Biting and Bloodplay (don’t read if this makes you uncomfy)

It’s a little jarring when you find out the truth about Max. You think it’s a dream at first because there’s no way vampires exist, it’s just not the world that you live in. You’re a bit afraid in the beginning because you know how he gets sometimes but he’s been nothing but patient with you thus far. When he invites you for dinner at his place one night, you can’t help but joke about being his meal and it’s awkward for a few moments but he laughs along and promises you he doesn’t bite...yet. One thing leads to another and the next thing you know, you’re staying over his place almost every night. Curiosity gets the best of you and you ask him what it feels like to sink his teeth into someone’s skin and he’s reluctant to respond because he doesn’t want to give himself away. He doesn’t want to tell you how he dreams of biting your neck and your thighs and anywhere he could reach almost every night. But he doesn’t have to because you're moving closer to him and you’re whispering reassurances in his ears and you’re telling him that you trust him and it’s all he needs to hear before the thread snaps. He’s on you like dew on leaves and you’re baring your neck for him and he nips at your jaw before moving to your neck and your shoulder, leaving love bites anywhere he could reach because he can finally mark you as his. He can feel blood rushing through your arteries and he looks at you with need, a silent question swimming in his eyes and you sink your nails into his shoulder when you nod and he immediately digs his sharp fangs into your skin. You’re so glad you started this conversation because it feels like nothing you’ve ever experienced. There’s pain shooting through your neck from how deep his fangs sank into your skin but there’s so much more pleasure coursing through your veins and there’s something erotic about hearing him sucking and slurping and gulping down your blood. He sits up for a second and you’re met with the scariest yet prettiest sight in the world and Max knows he should stop but he can’t and he turns your head to the other side and breaks the skin at the top of your breasts before he starts sucking again and it’s filthy but erotic all at once. He laps harshly at the puncture wounds before he wraps his lips around your nipples and bites a little harder than he intended. You have no time to react as he descends down your body and pushes your thighs open before he’s biting into the meat of your thighs and you’re shaking with need. As soon as he shoves two fingers into your cunt, you’re drenching his arms and coming violently around him, and Max forces himself to pull off of you just to watch you come undone at his touches. He leans down and licks across your cunt, his cock twitching in his pants when the taste of your arousal and your blood mix on his tongue and he realizes, then and there, that you’re it for him. He looks down at your blissed-out expression and he’s proud of how wrecked your look, even more so because he sees his marks everywhere on your skin, from your neck and shoulder to your breasts and your thighs. And fuck if this isn’t the prettiest sight in the whole wide world. And you’re all his.

[fenristheorem]

Hi!^^

Could you make a hc about Lance and Guardian first date? 👀

Hello! This ask turned into a bit of a headcanon / scenario hybrid, I hope you don’t mind! It’s was so tempting to write in-depth about so many things through this that I couldn’t stop myself lol.

Also, I put a couple of my own headcanons on Lance’s dragon form in here because we know basically nothing except how he looks.

~Under the cut~

Lance and Guardienne's first date:

Guardienne may have been the first one to show interest in advancing their relationship from friends to partners (since Lance was very hesitant to do that as he feels he doesn’t deserve it after everything he’s done), but Lance will take it upon himself to initiate the first date after she clearly has interest, and he won’t take it lightly.

His seriousness about this is due to two main reasons: the instinctual nature of being a dragon - which includes all the courtship instincts that are a part of his people’s culture - and the belief that she truly deserves to be taken seriously.

Lance may not have been raised by his people, but dragons are feral creatures by nature and, therefore, instincts are a prominent part of their life. The knowledge that she’s agreeing to date him will be translated into a very basic idea within those instincts: she’s allowing him to court her. There - of course - will be more to their relationship than just Lance trying to court her, but this idea merely shows what instincts will be active through the beginning of their relationship until they’re both sure they want to be together long-term. The point of having courtship instincts is to show a potential mate that said dragon is competent at providing, protecting, and caring for their love interest, so that’s exactly what Lance plans to do. These instincts - combined with knowing her personality and interests - will help him to think of things he can find, plan, or do for her that are specifically chosen because he believes she’ll like it. He wants to show her that he is an ideal mate for her, so he’ll keep trying to prove that relentlessly until they both have confirmed their affection for each other over and over again, in which case Lance will still keep providing and caring for her, but will be less aggressive about it. These instincts also act as a major impulse control for Lance, and this can be either harmful or beneficial for him. They can influence in-the-moment decisions, especially with physical touch, like whether or not he kisses her in one moment or how he chooses to hold her. This can be harmful in the manner where he may pressure her past her boundaries a bit by accident - unknowingly trying to prove how deep his want for her is and being caught up in the moment and his own physical feelings so he’s rendered unable to immediately realize her discomfort unless she makes a clear gesture that she’s not yet interested. The last thing Lance wants it to make her uncomfortable, so he’ll try to keep from doing something unless it’s relatively clear that she’ll react positively to it, but from that thought, this can also be greatly beneficial as it allows him to recognize things that he - or other men - may otherwise overlook. There may be a moment where she’s interested in possibly initiating something, but may be too shy to actually take the first step. He’s very detail orientated, so he’ll likely notice this subtle change in how she acts as she ponders a thought, and can instinctually recognize a few changes in her physical being - like glancing from his eyes to his lips, initiating a few kind but somewhat unnecessary touches, unknowingly accentuating a few attractive parts of her body, and even going as far as detecting a faint change in scent when she’s aroused (although, that last one will come a bit later in the relationship). Sometimes Lance will purposely tamp down any instinctual habits for the sake of proper self-control and not needing to second-guess any action that may actually make her uncomfortable, but usually when Lance detects a few signs that she’s heavily interested in him in the moment - and it’s clearly romantic interest, not interest in just the conversation topic - those instincts will unravel and he won’t be able to stop himself from immediately leaning forward to steal her lips in a kiss.

These instincts overall are very serious to him, and he doesn’t intend to take her courtship lightly - after all, his actions and his manner with her will influence how her feelings develop with him, and that’s influenced by how his instincts effect him in this situation. However, that doesn’t mean he’ll go out of his way to change for her or do things (that he may not like, especially) just because he thinks she’ll like it. If his instincts are continuously telling him to do things that she’s not liking, then perhaps they’re not as compatible as he’d like to think. He’s willing to give her things that are influenced by his instincts that she’ll surely like, but if he needs to think and act differently than who he is, then their relationship will be based off a lie, and he’s not about to base any part of his life - or someone else’s life that concerns him - off of a lie made solely to please.

He’s also taking this date seriously because he feels it would disrespectful of him to not take it seriously. This is a given regardless of who it is, but he feels it applies with her even more than it would with anyone else due to this reasoning: Lance has tried to kill her in the past - multiple times - and he tried to kill her friends and destroy the world that she loves so dearly. So not only would it be disrespectful in general to waste her time with a date that isn’t well planned or thought out, but it would be incredibly disrespectful to the point of being truly unforgivable if he did all of those horrible things and then tried to win her affections by thinking that a shallow, poorly thought out date would even begin to be acceptable in proving that he’s an ideal man for the savior of Eldarya. It takes the idea of wasting her time and thinking poorly of her intelligence and self-worth to a whole new level - and Lance is not about to risk that in any way. This is the woman who actually managed to put up a fight against him (hopeless, but he gives her credit for trying because she believed in her reasoning), who saved Eldarya, and is now moving past bitter old emotions to begin considering taking her past sworn enemy as her future lover. She has gained his respect in a multitude of ways, so there is no way that he’s going to take their first date lightly.

That being said, he struggles for a few days planning what he wants to do with her. He did ask her if there was anything in specific she’d like to do - only for her to say that there was nothing in particular, so all the planning was on him. Lance wants a good balance of including things she likes and would appreciate while also adding in his own interests. He believes that their first date should reflect how he thinks their relationship would manifest - and what he would like it to be and what he thinks she’d like it to be - while being conscious that this will be the first glimpse into a possible intimate life with each other, which can be off putting at first, so he thinks of everything that that would include and / or influence; food, entertainment, traveling, talking, etc. It was a good thing he told her prior to expect to be with him the whole day as he eventually finds himself needing to carefully manage and plan things to assure the date will go as he hopes, otherwise the rest of the day wouldn’t be very ideal. He’s sure to have a few back-up plans, though, just in case something does go awry so the date isn’t a total failure.

Guardienne knows absolutely nothing about what he’s planning, the only thing he told her is to take the whole day off and wear something comfortable yet functional that she isn’t afraid to get dirty. This almost scares her, and for a while she wonders what she got herself into by saying yes to his offer - after all, Lance has always had a creative mind with their “adventures” in the past - but she will admit that she does trust him now, and she follows his advice when the day of their date comes.

Lance is sure to give Huang Hua a few day’s warning about his day off and who he’s leaving in charge that day - she raises an eyebrow and grins the slightest bit when he mentions the exact day he needs to take off, but doesn’t ask any questions - and rises early on the day of their date to meet Guardienne in the Dinning Hall at the time they agreed on.

Now Karuto doesn’t like Lance at all much, and the dragon knows this, so when he originally asked the chef to prepare a few special meals he was turned down very quickly. But then he mentioned that it’s for Guardienne as well...

“Oh? You want me to prepare a special meal for her for you? Ha! Why?”

“Well... we intend to spend the day together so I want to be sure she has a nice time, and you’re cooking is excellent, Karuto. I know Guardienne really appreciates your food, and I don’t want to take any risks of things going wrong, so I was thinking that if we could have a breakfast and dinner at the dinning hall, and a lunch to go, that would be a definite way to begin to make sure she has a nice time.”

Karuto’s ladle clattered to the floor as the Satyr whipped his head around to look Lance dead in the eye, a dumbstruck expression on his face - almost looking as though he’s seen a ghost. Lance met his gaze evenly, expecting this reaction. He knew the chef didn’t like him that much, he didn’t blame him, but he hoped that Karuto could perhaps bless him with this favor for Guardienne’s sake.

“You mean... you have a date with her?” Karuto’s voice was faintly high pitched, reconfirming just how shocked he was. Lance shifted a bit, glancing to the ground as he did before meeting his gaze again.

“Ah, well... yes. So I’d really like things to go well. And try to keep this on the down-low. This is our first date and I think everything would go better overall if it didn’t spread like wildfire through the guard just yet.”

Karuto’s facial features softened a bit as he listened, picking up the ladle and shuffling to throw it in the sink before fishing another from one of the various hooks along the wall and returning to the pot on the stove.

“...Well, I suppose I can’t say no... and... - ahm - congrats? I’ll be sure to keep quiet about this, I guess, for her sake. Now what are you thinking of for the meals?” Karuto still looked quite surprised, but there was a sincerity in his expression and tone that Lance trusted, and he promptly thanked Karuto for doing him this favor. However, the Satyr also made sure to give him the full version of “if you try anything with her and I hear of it, I’ll personally make your life hell.” Lance quickly realizes that Karuto really likes her, and assures him he won’t do anything she doesn’t want. It doesn’t really seem to convince the chef, but he also probably realizes that there’s nothing he can do to stop this. Guardienne can be just as stubborn as the dragon, after all, and she’s already said yes to this.

Fortunately, Karuto kept his word and prepared a special breakfast for the both of them - Lance quickly noticed that his was prepared with quality as well, although the chef gave him a sharp look - and Guardienne soon realized that their breakfast was different than what was being served to others as they settled into a quiet corner of the hall. Lance - somewhat sheepishly - admitted that he’d asked a special favor from Karuto, and Guardienne grinned appreciatively at this.

When they were finished, Lance retrieved the lunches - nodding in thanks to Karuto as he did, the chef still giving him a meaningful look - and stored them in the small travel bag he packed, heading out of the guard with Guardienne to lead her to the open plains.

The next part of his plan was a bit shifty. It’s always possible that she could back out or become uncomfortable, but he feels - despite his anxiousness - that this should be how things are done. If Guardienne at any point became uncomfortable, then he would immediately yield to her wishes, but he really hoped she didn’t. He believes this is where their date can truly begin, and he hopes that she has enough faith in him to follow his plans.

He dropped the bag on the ground and turned to her, leveling a calm stare on her as she tilted her head in curiosity.

“You’ve never rode a dragon, correct?”

“I hope that’s not an innuendo.” She cracks a smile and raises a brow as she looks at him, he grins slyly in return. 

“No - not this time at least.” He can play the game of wit. Guardienne’s smile grows before falling, a faint trace of wistful mourning crossing her expression.

“But, actually I have. Your brother, during the war...” Lance remembered that and his grin dropped, but this was something different. That was into war, when neither were paying attention to the actual experience and were focused on preserving their lives. He needed to know if she actually experienced seeing the world from a dragon’s eye view.

“Yes, I know that, but have you actually rode a dragon and been able to focus on the experience? Flying into war is very different than flying for leisure.”

“No, I haven’t experienced that...” She looked intently at him now, understanding where he was leading the topic.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes... I trust you.” Her eyes met his steadily as she responds. Everything is going as he hoped so far.

Whisps of white and cerulean blue shifted around Lance as he began shifting into his dragon form, stretching his wings out and lifting his head towards the sky to adjust once fully transformed before taking a few steps towards her as Guardienne picked up the travel bag. She admired the beautiful rippling of crystalline blue and snow white scales as he sauntered towards her before crouching down and lowering his neck. Sudden nervousness swept over Guardienne - he was certainly big, easily close to 10 feet tall - if not taller - with a thick, muscular form, but she never actually had the chance to think about riding a dragon before doing so, and that realization seemed intimidating to her now. Will she just hang onto the ice-like horns that adorn his upper neck? Won’t her weight be tiring for him in time? What about her legs, where should she put them? Could he really lift her weight into the air as easily as he seems to think?

Lance took notice of her hesitance and tilted his head and neck to look at her with a piercing eye, watching her as she stared for a moment.

“I...”

“I understand this may seem daunting. If you feel you can trust this, I would recommend doing so - I have wonderful things planned for us - but I won’t force you. I have backup plans closer to the guard if you feel you’re not ready for this.” Lance’s heart twists a bit - he really wanted to do this with her. This was really the only possible hindrance, if she could just get past this and trust him...

“No, it’s fine. I just... how do I hold on?” Guardienne quickly snaps to and laughs a bit, securing the travel bag to her and lifting a leg to straddle his lower neck. She placed her hands on his neck for a moment before curiously running her hands along his scales. Such a wonderful texture...

A purr rumbles from the dragons chest as he relaxes, pleased that she was agreeing with this.

“Hang on to the horns around my neck and wrap your legs around me - be sure to dig your heels in, it’ll help stabilize you.”

Guardienne did as told and instinctively leaned forward on his neck, clinging close to dear life.

“When we’re up in the air you can re-adjust your grip a bit to be more comfortable. Are you ready?” Lance raised his neck from the ground and Guardienne braced herself, already feeling unsettlingly high in the air - but she knew she wanted this.

“Yea.”

Lance tilted his head towards the sky again and spread his wings wide, leaping from the ground to hover for a moment before his wings scored through the air with a loud, windy woosh. Guardienne watched as his wings folded a bit, his scales shimmering beautifully in the sunlight, before stretching out and falling upon the air again. With every down stroke of his wings, Lance’s head and neck raised into the air a bit, the rest of his body following the rippling motion as he climbed higher in the air and gained speed.

Guardienne dared not look down as they rose above the trees, instead hunkering down a bit to press herself closer to the ice dragon. They were heading higher than she’s ever been while riding another creature - and while she did trust Lance, it still unsettled her greatly knowing how far their drop would be if he were thrown off balance and unable to recover. But he has years of experience of flying, she reminded herself. It was unlikely for him to lose control of himself.

Lance could sense a bit of her anxiety and shifted his wing pattern, smoothing out his climb to be more steady and less aggressive in how he moved. Guardienne fortunately seemed to lose some of her worries as he climbed with more subtle movements, and just as she relaxed a bit he shifted his pattern again. They were high enough in the sky now to where Lance just needed to change direction to head towards their destination, so he leveled out in the sky, letting his wings glide through the air.

Guardienne shifted the slightest bit as he leveled out, making sure she had a good grip, and caught sight of the ground below while doing so - but contrary to how terrifying she thought it would feel when seeing it from this distance, it was actually beautiful.

Trees dotted the ground, forming into masses of liquid dark green forests against the pale green of soft grass while blue-silver rivers - the color of moondust - meandered through grass and forest alike, dipping to disappear among trees before emerging again at a very separate location. Dark grey boulders dotted along the rivers and streams, and the occasional creature bolted along the plains as it ran from the shadow of the mighty entity flying above it.

She remained entranced at the landscape below as Lance tilted slightly, gliding elegantly through the air as he banked into a turn. Something of a purr rumbled from his chest as Guardienne leaned against him more, faintly adjusting her grip to hold higher on his horns so she could lean closer to him while admiring the ground.

“The land is much nicer from the air, isn’t it?” Lance called out to her as he tilted his head to glance at her, relief welling in his chest when he noted the starry-eyed gaze Guardienne wore as she looked at the ground.

“It’s beautiful!” Her tone will filled with awe, no hint of nervousness appearing anywhere in her energy anymore. He knew she would love this, she just had to push past the fear.

As they flew, Guardienne became more and more comfortable with flying, eventually allowing herself to sit somewhat upright so she can get a wider view of the great expanse of land stretching endlessly beneath them rather than what’s directly below them. It reminded her a lot of when she flew on airplanes, but this was much more free and wild.

Mountain ranges dotted the distance one way - tall, grey and monumental in the face of all the specks of trees and strings of rivers - and thicker forest canopy darkened the forest in some deeper parts of the trees. Open plains flowed beneath them and, with a quick glance over her shoulder, she saw the deep blue of the ocean behind them, growing further and further away. She basked in the view as Lance glided through the air, and Guardienne came to realize that properly riding a dragon isn’t half as worrisome as she originally thought.

She looked ahead and saw a murky, grey-blue expanse approaching from among the trees and plains - immediately recognizing it as a large lake dotted with large, jutting boulders - and beyond that a small cliff. It was as though a small mountain once stood there, but half was taken and replaced by a lake, leaving the other half a jagged, rocky outcrop against the bright sky as it led further back to sloping plains.

Lance dived faintly, gliding softly downward as they approached the lake. For a moment Guardienne’s thoughts filled with alarm as he seemed to intend to send them straight into the water, and she was about to open her mouth to express her concerns when he tilted his wings a few feet away from the surface and stopped their decline just before the water.

Instead, Guardienne’s breath was taken away from her as she looked into the lake, their reflection mirrored beautifully in the deep blue as they glided mere feet away from the surface of the still water, wakes rippling through as they passed by from the airflow of the dragon she rode. Lance tilted himself just slightly, turning their path to allow the edge of his wing to just faintly brush the surface with a soft hiss as water sprayed out behind. However, left upon the surface in the wake from his wing was a long trail of glittering, cloudy ice - spiked along the edges as it froze the rippling water during it’s impact against the dragon’s wing. She watched in fascination the ice trail that followed them, suddenly wondering how the water felt, and pressed her front completely against Lance as she leaned down. Gripping him tightly with her hand and legs, she took a calming breath and leaned slightly to his side, reaching to the lake. 

Lance tilted his head to look at her again and straightened out, letting them drop closer until he was a risk of sending them straight into the water if he glided any lower. Fortunately, this was all the decline Guardienne needed, and the tips of her fingers brushed through the surface; cold and grating against her skin at their speed - but spraying out in a similar fashion as the water that had sprayed from Lance’s wing - and leaving her breathless from the experience.

The start of an astonished laugh bubbled from her chest before she leaned completely back, readjusting her grip again as she looked across the water on both sides. Exhilaration flowed through her bones and veins as she took in their speed in comparison to the lake and trees along the bank, and she let out a full laugh as she threw her head back to the sky, letting the wind whip over her skin as she embraced the experience of truly riding a dragon. 

Joy bubbled within Lance as he took in her chiming laugh, and as they began to near the occasional large boulder jutting from the lake water he pondered the next part of his plan again. Hopefully she was in the mood for an even more thrilling ride...

He came up upon the first boulder, emerging many feet above the water and shifted his wings again, tilting them to soar upwards and give a flap to keep their speed as he fluently arced above the boulder, letting himself glide slowly down again and targeting two boulders near to each other next. He arced over one again and dived safely above the water, spreading his wings and banking into a sharp, drifting turn to swerve around the second rock. Guardienne shifted on his lower neck as he moved, flattening herself to him and adjusting her balance slightly when needed. When they were level above the water again, approaching their last chance to safely fly away from the approaching cliff, Lance glanced back toward Guardienne to find her studying the immense, jagged rise. She locked her gaze with his one eye, giving a wild grin as she adjusted herself and held on tighter.

Lance knew that she knew his intent, and her grin and tightening grip was all he needed to know that she wanted in on this experience, so he rose slightly above the lake again to beat his wings and gain speed as he scanned the cliff for the best path.

“Have you ever done anything like this?” Guardienne called to him, leaning with him as he tilted to avoid a large rock with an overhanging arch. They passed under it and a crumbling sounded from behind them. She looked back in time to see a fair part of that arch crumble from where they just passed under and splash into the water. Suddenly she was harshly reminded that the landscape could shift due to the wind currents from the dragon, and they don’t have any control over it. Her gaze turned to look at Lance again as he looked back to her.

“If I can fight in the air then I can navigate through cliff sides, and this certainly isn’t the first time I’ve flown through rocky outcrops or forests. Be sure to keep a tight grip, though, this’ll require finessing.”

Guardienne trusted his experience with this, so she nodded her head and gave him a trusting grin - he wouldn’t be doing this if he felt he couldn’t execute it.

Lance turned back to study the sloping cliff and the rocky lake before it again, finding an ideal path upward, and steadied his wings to prepare for the sudden moment where he would enact his first movement. 

Guardienne held onto him, anticipation making her heart race as she studied the rocks as well.

And then Lance banked harshly to the side, heading towards a large, thin ridge rising out of the water that was crumbling on one side.

He tilted back, rising into the air and closing quickly in on the ridge top before arcing himself tightly over it. Nearly immediately on the other side was another jutting formation, and - as he was gliding downward - his wings shifted and he rose his head and neck to the sky to begin to slow their descent and climb again, then tilted nearly vertical to the side to veer around the formation, bringing them closer to the immense cliff edge now nearly directly above them. Lance soared along the length of cliff for a moment, level with the water now as he spotted an arch adjoining the cliff. He glided to it and folded his wings safely in for a moment as they passed through before flicking his wings open on the other side and immediately banked upwards into the sky.

Guardienne held on tight, pressing herself close to Lance as he easily - gracefully - maneuvered around rocks and overhangs, climbing up the cliff at a soaring speed without bringing them too close to risk any harm, but still close enough to feel the humbleness of realizing how small they still are in comparison to the massive stones. Her head swung wildly around, watching the stones they drifted around and embracing the breathtaking view of the water receding below them. Lance dived and arced and rolled in the air, rising and falling as he maneuvered the cliff. Guardienne diligently held herself close to him, doing her best to adjust herself in subtle ways that might make his flying easier for him while embracing the beauty of the light reflecting off of water below and the shadows cast over them as they soared beneath rock formations.

Guardienne looked towards the sky again as Lance soared along the cliff - noticing that they were about rise over the crest - and leaned her head against his neck gently, silently thanking him for the wonderful, thrilling experience he gave her. They rushed past the peak and kept their fast incline upward to let the speed die out on its own, and Guardienne took the chance to look around as they gided. Light shimmered beautifully off streams through muted green grasslands and forests, similar to where they just came from, but large, silver-grey rock formations jutted out of the ground here, like the boulders in the lake. A feeling of calm content rolled through Guardienne as she surveyed the landscape and rested against the dragon, breathing in the fresh air around them as it breezed by her. She almost wanted to cry from the beauty of the landscape and the experience of freely riding a dragon, understanding completely now exactly why Lance wanted to share this with her. This was something that couldn’t possibly be rivaled by any other experience.

They flew peacefully for only a few minutes longer before Lance glided to a slow stop just a few feet above the top of a hill, reaching out with his hind legs to plant firmly on the grass and lean down so Guardienne could dismount. He checked in on her after shifting back to his human form, trying to get a read on her opinion of the ride, only to be pleasantly surprised when she smiled and laughed, rambling about the humbling feeling of rising above the great earth to dance around it’s formations and soar the skies above it. Fortunately, the flying part of the date was also the most questionable - the most likely thing that would make Guardienne regret her choice - but just as Lance expected and planned for, she enjoyed the thrill instead.

Lance didn’t really have much planned after that to be honest, despite the aggressive way he worried about the plans. He intended for a few specific things to come up during their date, but from here it was really just walking and talking until encountering the right scenario for it. However, he did know roughly where he was and where they needed to go for them to spend the next few hours, so he kindly took the travel bag from her and they headed off in the direction he set, keeping a relaxed pace as they trekked over the hills and rock formations towards the forests around them. 

They talked about anything and everything as they walked - although Guardienne was particularly interested in his dragon powers after what she just experienced, and Lance was more than happy to give her all the information she wished for. He kept a close eye on her as they walked as well, darting out to stabilize her when she stumbled over a root or vine and making sure she had a clear path through any poisonous plants so they wouldn’t brush against her. He didn’t want their time together to end early because she had gotten hurt - of which she had a wonderful record of doing.

They came across a river after a while of walking - slow moving and clear enough that they could see the vibrant fish and other aquatic creatures scuffling around beneath the surface. Guardienne knelt next to the water’s edge to watch the display while Lance settled next to her, leaning forward to watch as well while thinking that he could have decided to hunt for her and cook his catch instead of just asking Karuto to create a lunch. However, this was their first date, and Lance was partially prepared for the possibility where she didn’t end up enjoying it as much as she was enjoying it currently. With that in mind, he let the thought pass over him without any regrets - Karuto’s cooking was a sure way to have her enjoy their lunch out here when her final opinions of everything else could still vary - and marked it down as a thought for a later date if she was interested.

“They’re so colorful.” Guardienne smiled and dipped a finger into the water. The creatures in the vicinity of her finger scattered, rushing up or downstream or crawling along the bottom of the stream. A small, regretful grimace came to her face at seeing the reaction, dejectedly pulling her finger out of the water.

“I guess they’re as skittish as the fish back on Earth.” A minor, guilty smile came to her face as she looked at Lance, who grinned gently back and let out an amused huff, leaning his shoulder against her’s softly. Guardienne leaned into him as well and turned back to the expanse of the river, watching as creatures slowly returned from their hiding places. She glanced down the length of the river, recalling what she learned about Lance’s abilities earlier.

“Could you freeze over this whole river? Turn the whole thing into ice?” She asked curiously, wondering exactly the extent of his powers. Lance smiled at her before taking her hand in his.

“Probably, but I much more enjoy doing things like this.” He took her hand in his, his larger palm over the back of her small hand, and dipped their fingers into the water. The creatures - ruffled again from the intrusion into their domain - spread out again, but Guardienne was more interested this time in the pure white, feathery substance that began to spread across the surface of the water, originating from their hands. It looked like frost that spiraled out onto the water in every which way. As the water grew slightly colder - a sharp contrast to the striking warmth of Lance’s hand on hers - a few of the tendrils branched back towards them and crawled along the bank of the river, slipping up to slink across a few plants in it’s path.

Guardienne found herself entranced by the beauty of the living frost, even reaching down to the water with her other hand to brush her fingertips along the thin, fragile swirls. They were cold and hard to the touch, but a small amount of pressure applied made the frost dip under her fingers before she backed away. It was definitely thin and fragile; something beautiful to look at but not to touch.

She leaned against Lance a bit more without speaking, enjoying the quiet, beautiful moment they were sharing. He ran the pad of his thumb over the outer side of hers kindly.

Some time later they were moving again, trekking through light forests that were shifting into rollings hills and flatland. Guardienne savored the light breeze and warm sun as it traveled across the land and brushed her skin. It was a good thing that the weather was nice, otherwise Lance would have needed to change his plans. Guardienne was truly enjoying the date so far - if she knew what this date would be like beforehand, only for it to be changed by the weather, she would have been severely disappointed. However, this brought the thought of what Lance would have done if they couldn’t have gotten this far into the date.

As they walked, they discussed Lance’s backup plans, revealing that he - in the event of bad weather or something else restricting his original plans - would have then opted to spend the day with her in one of their rooms, probably his, or possibly have spent time somewhere else. If the weather wasn’t too bad - just a small bit of rain or something - then he would have even considered taking her to sit underneath the Cherry Tree to spend time in silence together. Frankly, he had a lot of things in mind that they could have done, it just would have depended on her mood and the weather.

They talked for a while until they encountered a shallow ravine, and Lance put his arm out to stop her, staring intently at the pointy, vibrant colored plants that dusted the bottom. He grabbed a nearby branch and stuck one end into the ravine - sinking a few feet into the plants before hitting solid ground - and continued to do the same motion as he walked alongside the dip, poking the stick against the ground every few feet as it hit at a slowly quickening pace. Guardienne watched with interest as Lance continued to walk further before he turned to her with a faint grin and a raised eyebrow.

“I hope you don’t intend to stand there all day. It’ll be easier to cross when the dip is more shallow.”

He turned back to testing the depth and walking as Guardienne snapped out of her watching, a grin making it’s way to her face as she began to follow him. The stick reached only a foot or two deep into the ravine now.

“I don’t know, I was thinking I would stand there until you decided to carry me across like a princess. Add a new twist to the typical story of a princess being kidnapped by a fearsome dragon, you know?” She spoke in a humored tone, turning her gaze away for a moment to look at their surroundings, only to begin to turn her attention back to him when she heard the thump of the stick falling to the ground.

She let out a surprised squeak as she suddenly found herself off the ground, leaning back and being pulled to Lance’s chest as he picked her up with ease. Her hands found holds within his armor to cling to him as he began heading towards the ravine.

“Lance! What are you doing!?” She laughed as she clung to him, pleasantly shocked at his sudden actions.

“Well fortunately the kidnapping part is over, so now this age-old, horrifying tale can be continued in a lighter manner - per se with the beautiful princess being protected by said fearsome dragon from potentially poisonous plants. It’s better if only one of us trek through this instead of both.” He spoke in a light tone as well, a smirk on his face as he glanced over to meet her gaze quickly. The reminder of the kidnapping - and his past overall - weren’t a usually pleasant memory, yet somehow she made it easy to pass over, even joke about on occasion.

“Hey, I probably could have carried you.” Gaurdienne laughs as she says this, looking up at him with a humorous but fierce gaze. Lance found himself shaking with laughter as well.

“I’d like to see you try!” 

He sets her down gently on the other side of the ravine, keeping a hand on her hip as she finds stable footing along the slope and rocks before they head off again, talking and joking with each other all the while.

Lance certainly begins to open up as they walk, and Guardienne’s time with him turns less from a date with the man who once tried to kill her - and who’s loyalty she questions sometimes - to an enjoyable hang-out with someone who might as well have been an old friend. They find themselves laughing about many different things and carrying witty conversations together, occasionally broken by Lance adding in small informational bits regarding things they pass by that Guardienne comments on.

Eventually the forest is left behind them and they start their hike across rolling, wide pastures, the wind breezing through the tall grass as they climbed their way up a sloping hill. A strong wind current hit Guardienne at the top before calming as she looked at the land around them.

A beautiful river curled around the base of the hill, and a small lake sat off not too far in the distance, leading further to forest again. Clouds still dotted the sky, with no storm in sight.

“Are you hungry?” Guardienne turned her attention back to Lance as he spoke, glancing up to note the sun’s position in the sky. It was high above them, but was noticeably starting it’s decline towards the horizon again.

“Yea. Now that you say it, I am starting to get hungry.”

They stopped on the hill and Lance began to scan the ground, fussing with the travel bag as he stared at one spot.

He slightly nervously pulled out a thin, soft blanket from within the small travel bag, letting the faint wind spread it out as he laid it on the ground.

“Wait, did you drag me all the way out here for a picnic?” Guardienne giggled as she watched his ministrations, and a faint dark red brushed Lance’s face as he paused and avoided her gaze.

“I suppose it does look like that.” He grinned broadly and breathed a laugh. Lance originally saw the date as a combination of many things that they’d both enjoy, but it did seem like the main highlight was their lunch now...

“Don’t worry, I’ve enjoyed the whole date so far. Unless the food sprouts wings I don’t think it’ll rival the thrilling ride you gave me.” Guardienne giggled as she approached the blanket he set down.

“Who said I was worried?” He looked at her with a raised eyebrow and a sly grin now.

“Ugh, fine then Mr. Cool and Collected... That’s a nice look on you by the ways.” She brushed off his comment and internally laughed at the contradiction she pointed out, looking away before meeting his gaze again with a tinge of smugness. 

“It would look better on you.” Lance quickly retorted. Guardienne couldn’t stop her shy grin and her heart from racing when he turned his sharp blue gaze on her, a blush faintly dusting his face as he grinned dangerously at her through narrowed eyes. Somehow, no matter what state he’s in, he always seems to manage to get her restless. 

They settled onto the blanket - Lance resting his sword on the ground next to the cloth so it was out of the way - and began to unpack the food that Karuto cooked, placing it carefully on slightly uneven ground. They carried on conversations as they ate, enjoying the warmth of the day and the breeze that brushed by, even spotting a wild rabbit-like creature racing across the grassland.

Some time later, after their meal was finished and the scraps packed up tightly in the travel bag to take back, they laid back on the blanket, watching as snowy clouds passed overhead. Guardienne suggested that they stay there for a while and watch the clouds, and she began pointing out certain clouds that looked like shapes or companions to her. Lance quickly caught on to the idea and pointed out a few things as well. They even started debating what clouds looked like what, nipping lightly at each other with humorous words when they scuffled about whether a cloud looked like a Warrifang or a Gallytrot.

Eventually they continued their journey across the prairie, heading towards the small lake in the distance. When it was finally up close - the sun truly beginning it’s descent towards the horizon, casting a chilled breeze across the land and gorgeously highlighting the colors of grass and lake alike - she looked into the water. Small pebbles were scattered across the lake bottom, and she stopped at the edge to peer across the water as Lance walked a bit further. He took her hand gently, drawing her attention back to him to look at him in surprise.

Lance was standing on the water in front of her.

Guardienne looked at the surface of the water that he stood on to find it iced over - a circle that surrounded him by a few feet - thicker where he stood and thinning out until it crackled away at the edges. She looked up to meet his gaze with shock.

"Come on." He urged her to step out onto the ice with him with a humored smile, placing a foot in front of her path to summon another ice circle for her before backing off.

Really, she shouldn't have been so surprised - his abilities heavily vary in their use, so it makes complete sense that he could do this. However, she couldn’t shake the flutter in her chest as she looked at him. Was it his casualness that she was actually taking most attention to? Was she actually enjoying this date more than she realized?

Guardienne reached out with a tentative foot, placing it steadily on the ice. It shifted under her weight, slightly floating away as her foot pressed against it and continuing its journey away even after she took her foot off it. Lance placed a foot on the circle at it began to float away, holding it steady and adding more ice onto it to create a bigger circle for her. She looked back up at him with a grin.

"You're kidding me right? Why just little circles? Why not freeze over the whole lake?"

Her hesitance hid worry underneath the surface that Lance caught on to, and he gently grinned back.

"Freezing over the whole thing could have adverse effects to the environment. It's safer to freeze it in small sections. Now get on the ice before I pick you up and place you on it." His tone turned affectionately amused at the last sentence, and then added in a serious, gentle tone; "I won't let you fall in, I promise."

Guardienne looked back at the ice before gently placing her foot on it again, now a bit more confident that it would be stable with Lance holding it - it was his ice after all. It shifted again slightly under her weight, but she committed to her decision and lifted her other foot off the ground to place on the ice, gripping Lance's arm the whole time for support. He wouldn't let her fall, right?

Lance kept her hand in one of his while his other went to her waist to stabilize her as she grew closer, freezing over the small, thinly-iced gap between them so she could basically press herself against him as she looked at the water around them. Guardienne leaned against him slightly as she faintly caught his scent, feeling safe in his arms from the possibility of taking a lake bath.

"Have you never walked on ice before?" He asked gently. Guardienne looked up at him again.

"Well, I've slipped on ice multiple times, but I don’t think I’ve ever achieved the skillful feat of walking on ice." Her tone was humorous as she grinned. Lance smiled back.

"It's not that hard once you know how, you just need to be careful with how you place your feet. It should be easier since you're expecting to step on ice, too."

Lance took a step forward, heading further onto the lake as ice formed under his foot just before he touched the surface of the water. Guardienne took an awkward step forward as well, hesitantly placing her foot down as ice formed under her as well. A small laugh escaped the dragon next to her.

“You can walk normally, you don’t need to step where you think the ice will form. It’ll appear under you no matter where you step.”

“Why will it just appear under me? How do I know it’s not going to form somewhere else?” Guardienne joined his subtle laugh as she clung to him. The water beneath them was beautiful, but she really didn’t want to get wet at the moment.

“Because I’m watching you, it forms under you because I make it do so.”

“And what if you’re not watching me?”

“That’s impossible.” The response slipped out before he could stop it and Guardienne’s gaze shot back up to look at him with an affectionately amused smile. Lance averted his gaze with a minor blush again, grinning faintly as well. He didn’t mean to say that, but it was true all the same.

“Come on, you won’t slip or fall into the lake, I promise.”

They walked further out into the lake and Guardienne calmed down over time, eventually trusting the ice enough to walk by herself - although she still held Lance’s hand tightly - as she scanned the surface of the water and watched as ice formed under her no matter where she stepped. It was fascinating, really; it formed nearly instantly and immediately faded back to water after she moved further.

Lance managed to distract her a bit by sparking conversations, of which she happily took part in, her gaze shifting between him, the ice and water, and the trees off in the distance that they were heading towards. She squinted her eyes to see a certain tree a bit better. Was that a hint of blue?

A splash in the water stole her attention and she quickly looked down to see a large, scaly shape receding back to the depths of the lake. She continued to walk alongside Lance, but kept her eyes firmly on the water. Another large, scaly shape rushed by, almost translucent but with hints of colors dotting along it’s body. Guardienne froze in her steps with wide eyes - it was nearly half her size!

“Lance there are monsters in these waters.” She held tight to his hand as he stopped beside her, looking down into the water with her. Another creature arced in the water and Lance grinned at her amusing statement.

“Not monsters.” He spoke in a light tone, crouching down on the ice and opening the travel bag to fish out a few bread scraps.

A large chunk of bread landed in the water and floated for a moment. Guardienne crouched down next to Lance, sticking close to his side. After a few moments of waiting, a large, slightly translucent creature reared out of the water, opening a great maw to swallow the bread whole. Beady black eyes whirled around as it breached the surface, locking on the couple before it submerged again.

“Great Oracle, what is that!?” And so began another moment of Lance imparting some of his knowledge to her.

Guardienne eventually relaxed in the presence of the fish-like creatures, hesitantly taking a scrap of bread that Lance gifted her and placing it in the water, her hand hesitating to reel back as she considered pushing it further out. Lance reached out and gently took her hand in his to pull it back, and mere moments after he did so, another creature dashed out and closed it’s jaws around the bread with a snap. Guardienne basically threw herself back against Lance with a squeak.

“Note to self, don’t give them your hand!” She laughed as surprise and amusement fluttered through her being, clinging to him again for a moment.

“It nearly took my hand clean off!” Her gaze turned to meet Lance’s before turning back to where the creature disappeared as Lance shook with laughter.

“You would have been fine!” 

“Are you kidding me? With a big mouth like that it would have taken my arm, too!”

“Suppose I should keep my hand away from your mouth in that case.”

“Oh, hush, you! You know that’s not true!”

Their laughter died down in time and they continued their walk across the water, Guardienne now being a lot more comfortable with the ice below their feet. They approached the shore and Lance let Guardienne step onto the ground first, following immediately after as the ice disappeared back into lake water. Standing at the shore, Guardienne could see the tree she was looking at earlier. It was tall, and it’s branches curved beautifully downward with thick, deep blue flowers stemming from the twigs. The sinking sun beautifully highlighted the deep colors on it and illuminated the grass around the trunk. She stared in awe and Lance turned to look as well. 

“It’s beautiful... what type of tree is it?”

They began to approach it - not realizing that their hands were still clasped together - and stood beneath the draping branches.

“I’m not sure, I’ve seen this type of tree a few times but I don’t know anything of it.” Lance brushed his hand along a curved branch - the wood smooth to the touch - and peered at Guardienne to get a better read on her opinion of the tree.

Guardienne parted herself from Lance to look closer at the blue flowers, lightly touching the silken petals and bending closer to breathe in the faint, sweet scent. She closed her eyes and grinned before looking up at the higher branches, embracing the beautiful color of mixed brown and blue. Light scuffling broke her out of her trance and she looked to the trunk to find Lance on the first few branches above her, curiosity flooding her mind as she stepped a bit closer and watched him scale the tree. He nearly disappeared into the branches and flowers, standing for a few moments on a branch uncomfortably high above the ground before making his way down again, the broken side of a small twig with a beautiful array of sky blue flowers clamped between his teeth.

He landed softly on the ground and presented the twig to her, and Guardienne happily took it to admire the vibrant blue of the flowers compared to the softer cobalt blue of the flowers on branches closer to the ground.

“You know, you could have just picked a twig from one of the branches already in reach.” She joked lightly. Lance grinned.

“What fun would that be? Besides, the ones closer to the ground seem to be starting to wilt, the top of the tree has better flowers.”

He watched Guardienne as she smiled softly at the twig she held in her hand, raising it to breathe in the lighter scent and stroke a petal.

“I would almost think you’d change the tides of water for me.” She spoke softly, affectionately reflecting on everything he did for her today.

Lance heard her all the same, and a warmth bloomed in his chest as he watched the setting sun light her skin aglow with the flower branch. I would move the world for you, he thought. However, he held his tongue - it was too soon to be revealing how deep his affection for her ran, it would likely unsettle her - and instead glanced at the sun’s position on the horizon. It was nearly sunset.

“We should probably head back, it’s getting late and we have a dinner to attend.”

Guardienne glanced at the sun as well.

“Yea... no flying spectacles this time?” She turned her gentle gaze to him and smiled.

“No flying spectacles.” He grinned back with soft eyes and rested a hand on her lower back as they headed into the grassland again, Guardienne safely tucking the flower twig into a snug fold in her shirt so the wind wouldn’t steal it away.

“The flight back should be beautiful with the sunset.” She murmured, lightly nudging against Lance. This date turned out better than she originally hoped, and she reminded herself to thank him for the wonderful experience later.

“It will be.”

Lance shifted into his dragon form and they took to the skies again, Guardienne glancing back at the land that would forever hold a dear place in her heart.

That wasn’t the last time they visited that lake and tree.

I have absolutely no idea on if this is supposed to be a headcanon or a scenario, but I hope you like it regardless! I had so many ideas I wanted to add to this, but by then I’d be writing an actual short story just for their first date lol. Maybe I’ll write a part 2 to their first date (second date I suppose, that’ll be a bit more intimate than this one), or general date headcanons with those ideas.

Thank you for requesting, this was a wonderful ask!

Have a request? Ask them here!

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[ave-aria]

Rewind

Ectober Week 2020 Day 3: Rewind Summary: Maddie can't believe what she's seeing on the security tape. In shock, she hits rewind. Tags: Reveal fic, Blood, Angst, Implications of character death, Tragedy, Trauma, Oneshot

-

Rewind.

Maddie keeps her eyes on the tv screen as the figures wind their way backwards to the start of the video. She won't look away. Can't. Doesn't dare.

If she looks away, she'll have to focus on something else. The quiet, dusty lab around her. The uncleaned ecto-weapons by the door. The green blood smattered on the blade.

The hollow, empty house looming over her head…

The video hiccups a bit as she hits the start of the feed. Old VHS tapes are odd like that, buzzing out with static where the film wore thin from too many pauses and restarts. It's a sign she's hit the beginning. Maddie presses play.

"Mom and Dad would kill me if they knew I let you down here."

It was an old security tape, filched from the lab. Onscreen, three teenagers, her son at the lead, slip into the camera's field of view. Maddie leans closer, enraptured by the movement, even though she's seen this moment enough times to have it seared into her brain.

Maybe, if she focuses hard enough, she can learn the secret - how to rewind her own mistakes, go back to a time when none of it has happened, just like in the video.

"Whoa, check it out! This thing's huge! I can't believe your parents built this!" A pause, while the kid adjusts his glasses. "Bummer that it doesn't work though, dude."

"Damn. Was it really supposed to open a portal to the underworld?"

"It's 'The Ghost Zone,' Sam. And yeah. My parents were pretty heartbroken when it didn't work. It kinda just… fizzled out. I hope they're not too upset."

The detached, clinical angle of the shot doesn't do the moment justice. Danny'd always been such a kind boy, thoughtful and empathetic to a fault. Maddie's throat closes up a little, leaving her struggling to breathe. They had been upset. Unbearably so. Their life's work - as Danny put it - fizzled out before their very eyes. It'd been a hard loss to take, one that she and Jack might never have recovered from, had the Portal not miraculously started working on its own, days later.

God. Now she almost wishes it hadn't.

A bright flash draws her from her reverie. Maddie blinks at the screen. A camera flash. In her distraction, she's missed part of the video; Tucker's casual "Lighten up, dude,", Sam's request for a photo op, Danny grabbing a hazmat suit to pose with while she dug the device from her backpack.

"—Got it," Sam waves the printed Polaroid to air out the negative.

"Okay. I showed you the portal. Can we get out of here now? My parents could be back here any minute."

Where had they been that day, anyway? Maddie wonders. Grocery shopping? Visiting the park? Moping, as they tried anything to get their minds off of their most recent failure? If they'd been there —

If they'd been there—

"Come on, Danny," comes Sam's voice, treacherous in its fascination. "A Ghost Zone? Aren't you curious?"

Danny looks into the Portal, clutching the custom white suit made specially for him. Sam smirks, knowing. "You gotta check it out."

Maddie hits pause.

Rewind.

"You gotta check it out."

Pause. Rewind.

"You gotta check it out."

Rewind.

"—gotta check it out."

The remote feels cold and heavy, like ice in her hand. In that moment, a selfishness grips her. She could blame Sam. For all if it. Everything that happened, it all started here, and it started because—

—But she can't blame Sam, because the next moment, Danny turns back, his eyes sparkling with an adventurous spirit. It's a spark of curiosity, brimming at the thought of the unknown; a look she's all too familiar with, one she's seen often on her daughter's face, her husband's - even her own, in the mirror.

"You know what? You're right. Who knows what kind of awesome, super cool things exist on the other side of that Portal?"

That curiosity, it's a Fenton trait, not one that needs to be stoked like a fire. That spark's been burning within him, since the cradle.

"Don't go in," she whispers, as if her advice could change the course of history. Even if he could hear her, though, it would be no use. He can no more resist the call than he can resist breathing.

He pulls on the hazmat suit. Skintight, white with black edging. It's like staring at a photo-negative. Watching her son, Maddie's stomach twists.

How couldn't she see it before?

"Alright. I'm going in." He says. His first footsteps echo, loud, in the hollow of the blacked out Portal…

Maddie's breath shudders in. She grips the remote and, before she can stop herself, hits the button.

Rewind.

She watches as her son walks backwards, double-time, out of the entrance to the Portal. The panic that gripped her fades.

"Mads?" From somewhere up above, echoing down the staircase, comes her husband's voice. Maddie is glued to the video screen, and almost doesn't hear him. Regardless, she definitely can't answer. What would she even say?

"Maddie?" His heavy footsteps echo in the stairwell, trudging closer. "Are you down there?"

A hitch in the tape. Maddie presses play.

"Mom and Dad would kill me if they knew I let you down here."

Drawn by the sound, Jack trudges the rest of the way down the narrow staircase. She feels a slight reverberation in the floor when he reaches the landing behind her. She doesn't turn around.

"The police called back. Officer McNally said he'd file a missing persons report, and they promised to keep their eyes open. But—" she hears the way uncertainty causes his voice to die in his throat when she doesn't turn to greet him. After a long moment of silence, he draws up to her side. "What are you watching?" he asks at last.

"It kinda just… fizzled out. I hope they're not too upset."

Question. He'd asked a question. Maddie swallows and struggles to answer. "Security tapes," she chokes out.

Understanding, an incomplete kind, dawns on Jack, and vigor jumps back into his bones. "Mads, that's brilliant!" he booms. "Why didn't I think of it? He comes into the lab all the time! We can use the security tapes to see when he last—"

"I found this tape in Danny's room," she interrupts.

Again, his voice falters in confusion.

"Under the bed," she elaborates, as if that will help. And continues watching, detached.

"Can we get out of here now? My parents could be back any minute."

The flickering light of the tv fills the lab, ominous in its glow. Jack hesitates. Maybe he's picked up on the subtext by now. Maddie can picture his eyes drifting from the staticy screen to the items in front of it, scattered across the table. He reaches out fro the shoebox sitting beside the tv. Taped to its front, written in the cursive, unmistakable scrawl of their son's handwriting, is a note that reads:

'If I Never Come Home'

"Maddie, what is this." Jack's voice is uncharacteristically heavy. Looking to her for guidance. For answers.

For once, she has none to give.

"Watch," Maddie whispers, still trapped by the screen. Automatic, her fingers hit the button.

Rewind.

With no other options to grasp at, he does.

"Mom and Dad would kill me if they knew I let you down here."

Watches as the kids approach the Portal.

"Aren't you curious?"

Watches as their son zips up the hazmat suit.

"Alright, I'm going in."

Watches as he disappears into the empty cavity of their greatest invention.

Click.

Watches as it thrums to life, with a scream.

"Da—Danny no!" Jack yells in tandem with the two remaining teens. He lurches forward, hand outstretched, to stop the agony onscreen. "He's not - when did he -"

"It's old, Jack," Maddie whispers. "From when the Portal started working."

Jack spins to stare at her. "You mean - Danny's the one who—" he's visibly struggling with the information, the same way she did, on her first viewing. "But—he never said—"

Right, Madie thinks. He never said anything. Jack's confusion is laughable, though. Why Danny never told them—that much is painfully clear.

"Guys?" Over the yelling and the panicking and the electric cackle from the Portal, their son's terrified voice cuts through the din. "G-guys help, what's happening?!"

Tucker and Sam are black silhouettes stumbling backwards from a swirling green glow, but they freeze and scramble to right themselves, lurching forward to catch someone as he stumbles through the gate.

Phantom - Danny - emerges from the portal, falling to his knees.

"…No," Jack says. Disbelief is thick in his voice. "That can't be… no."

Maddie lifts the remote.

Rewind.

A flash of light. A curdling scream. A shock of confusion, panic, scramble.

Danny Phantom stumbles from the portal.

Jack stares for a long time. Then he reaches out, snatching the lid of the shoebox for a second look at the evidence. The note, accusatory, stares back at them.

"This is how he tells us." Jack doesn't often whisper, but it seems like he can't do anything else. Her husband looks at the empty shoebox, the screen, the VCR. "Our son is Danny Phantom, and this is how he tells us. I…" he trails off.

Maddie almost can't believe it, how easily Jack arrives at the conclusion. It took her twelve viewings for her to wrap her mind around it, and it still hasn't really sunk in. But then, that's always been Jack's strong poing - those intuitive leaps of logic. Ones every scientist both loathed and envied.

"Did it kill him?" he moves seamlessly onto the next question that tripped her. Somehow, Jack's voice is even quieter this time.

Maddie shakes her head no. If they watch the video long enough, about ten minutes in, Danny manages to change his way back to human. If their invention did kill him, it wasn't permanent. Not that time, at least.

She's too close to thinking about it.

Rewind.

"But—" she can't stop Jack from thinking, though. He barrels on, heedless of breaking the fragile grasp Maddie has on her sanity. "But if all this time — Phantom—"

A hitch in the tape.

"We've been—"

Press play.

"Mom and Dad would kill me if they knew I let you down here."

"—Don't tell me we've been trying to waste our own kid—"

If Maddie weren't so detached, she might laugh. Waste. God, he can't even say it.

"Trying?" she asks instead. Bitter, the word sticks to her tongue.

She's not looking at the tape now. She's looking at him. And Jack, oh, Jack, he just stares down at her, a dark horror growing in his eyes.

He whips around to look at the bloodied weapons sitting at the base of the stairs.

Exactly where they left them two days ago, after that nasty ghost fight. When they came home to find a broken house, their daughter crying at the kitchen table, and their son just - gone.

"No." Jack backs up a step. "No no no no no no no—"

A flash of light. A curdling scream—

In an instant, Jack is moving. He snatches up weapons, whatever he can find, and bolts for the staircase, vaulting his way up to ground floor. Distantly, Maddie hears the doors slam. The RV thrumming to life. The screech of tires as Jack peels out of the driveway.

In the cold wake of his departure, Maddie turns back to the tv. She should go after him, she knows. But she's not quite done watching. Jack's always been a man of action, after all, but she's the analytical one, who studies, who marvels, who gathers the facts she sees.

Phantom, onscreen, slumps against his friends while he drips ectoplasm to the floor. He stares down at his white-gloved hands, his glowing green eyes wide in shock. Maddie wonders if he knew, then, what would become of him. What his parents, who raised him, who swore to protect him, would do.

She can't face those questions. Not yet. Not yet. Instead, she lifts the remote.

And rewinds.

A good scientist, a rational scientist, never draws conclusions while she's still gathering evidence. So as long as she's still watching—

A hitch in the tape. She's at the beginning. Maddie presses play.

"Mom and Dad would kill me if they knew I let you down here."

As long as she keeps watching, she doesn't have to do anything with this information. All she has to do is watch.

So she watches. She rewinds. And she plays. She can't look away—

"Mom and Dad would kill me if they knew I let you down here—"

She doesn't dare.

"Mom and Dad would kill me if they knew I let you down h—"

All she can do is rewind—

"Mom and Dad would kill me if they knew I let y—"

And rewind—and rewind—

"Mom and Dad would kill me if—"

Until she finds evidence contrary to her theory…

"Mom and Dad would kill me—"

Or she finds Its inevitable End.

"Mom and Dad would kill me if they knew I let you down here."

Rewind.

"Mom and Dad would kill me if they—"

Rewind.

"Mom—"

Rewind.

"Mom—"

Rewind.

"Mom—"

-

[AO3] [FFN]

[thefanbasewhore]

United as One. || Part 3

Summary: Din tries to fix what he can while another Mandalorian clan leader comes to visit and the leader tends to find an interest in the reader. 

Warning/Content: Soft!Din (as if I have to say it), angst, nsfw for hand job, a little bit of dirty talk but not much and mentions of death.

A/N: I also do not write smut often so bare with me I tried lol, but sorry It took so long !

Tag list here || Part 2. || Masterlist. 

The room was engulfed in complete darkness, peaceful sleep finally washing over after hours of crying eventually her eyes hurt too much to keep open. Thankfully with sleep came an escape from reality, all problems momentarily gone. That’s until a soft whisper tickles her neck, it’s soothing, fingers tangle into hair, nails scratching her scalp but also makes her jump, eyes opening wide for the source of danger.

“It’s me, it’s just me.” Din is breathless, trying to sooth her with words. Nothing is said, there’s complete darkness except the little light the moon offers. It outlines the soft curve of his nose, shadow of his lips, just enough to see but not enough to commit to memory what the Mandalorian looks like. “Our son.” He pauses, “Grogu wants you.”

It’s not a complete lie but the only excuse he can think of to see her, it was very late. The celebration had finally ended, the night dragged but he still found himself right where he wanted to be. For some reason he can’t find the right words to say. “Cyar'ika, I -.”

“Save it Din, give me him.” His mouth shuts at her words, the darkness blocked any clues, any way her face would form to show her emotions but he felt it in her words. There were no more tears, it’s replaced with hot, firey anger.

Grogu without a second though climbs from Din’s hand and lays against her chest, a soft coo of acknowledgement. Right where he wanted to be.

“For you.” Din’s word peak an interest, eyes meeting his in pure instinct despite the darkness. Something cold, sharp is pressed into her hand. It takes a few minutes of feeling it to realize what it was, the signet that was wrapped around the blonde’s neck made her scowl but he couldn’t see it. “I want you to wear it, I made her give it back. I don’t want -.”

For the second time tonight he’s cut off by words that hiss venom. “You give me something you made for her?”

With those words he realizes what a stupid idea it was, he’s speechless at his own Idiocracy. To be fair though, he wasn’t thinking about anything but her, only trying to make her happy. To escape this feeling of his heart breaking inside his chest, it seems almost unavoidable.

“I’m sorry.” Words are breathless, his apology makes her sigh. No words could fix this, mend the hole in her heart, the betrayal she feels. “I can’t control these things, they were made thousands of years ago. I must honor the way of the Mandalorian, that entitles a riduur and a breeder. I want to.. for you but I can’t, this is the best I can do.” Fingers apply pressure to the beskar in her hand, the coolness making her shiver.

Din is still on his knees on the floor, elbows leaning on the bed, her face, at least he thinks it’s her face only inches apart.

“Why did you bring me here?” It’s asked again. All the days seemed to form together, a promise of a future with Din made it manageable but suddenly it’s suffocating. “You didn’t once bother tell me how it was going to be. You knew they wouldn’t accept me because I’m not a Mandalorian, I would be challenged, I will never be accepted as part of your clan.”

“I thought you wouldn’t come.” He selfishly admits, his own voice chokes with emotion. Tears sting against his own waterline. Maybe it was the long night, but it felt like forever since he’s seen her, talked to her. It makes him emotional, the turmoil he’s caused so far; it was his fault. He was to blame.

“So you sentence me to this?” Din’s eyes squeeze shut, they are so close.. but miles away. “I want to leave.”

“Please.” He begs, “Just try. It’s hard to understand why but it’s the way of the mandalorian, you wouldn’t understand.”

“I’m sick of hearing that!” Her voice rises, she almost sits up to show how much she means if but she feels the child twitch against her chest. “Maker, I would be happy not to see another Mandalorian again.”

“You don’t mean that.” Din’s lays his forehead against the edge of the bed, only inches away from her body. “I don’t like hearing you like this.”

She can’t see it but he’s pressing his two fingers against his chest superficial to where his heart beats. “It hurts me.”

Silence is all he’s given, his cheek lays flat against the mattress as his hand reaches for the signet. “You’re right, it isn’t made for you. Nothing in the whole universe can be made into what I feel for you.”

Din does not give her the opportunity to talk, “My eyes are dark brown. This you know but..”

The hand nudging hers open again to feel the weight of circular plastic, enough to fill her hand. “I want to show them to you.”

They’re the beads of the woman but now any claim he’s ever had is gone; no sign of him on her person. Fingers tip under her chin, “Turn the light on and look.”

“The creed.” The worried words make him sigh, slowly leaning against her neck, forehead against her cheek.

“I have an obligation to my clan, I must lead them but for you, to show my love for you I’ll have you something no one else has. Look at my face Sweetheart, I want you too..” he pauses, “See the color with your own eyes, seeing my eyes only belongs to you. Don’t leave, stay with me.”

It’s desperate and considering the situation absolutely necessary. Truthfully Din is getting frustrated, it shows in the tears that sting his waterline, in the way he squeezes the sheets of the bed with clenched fists. Shoulders are weighed down, all the responsibility of his clan, trying to make the girl understand.. It’s too much, there is no way to give honor to the clan, no one to honor her. He’s torn, an internal fight against what he knows his right but his heart hurts, but cannot let her go.

“See me the way no one else does.” It’s a plea, throat full with emotion, his own way asking her to say. “Please.. it’s all I can give.”

It’s more silence but the way they press into his cheeks makes him whine, a small cry of relief. There was no more coldness lingering in the air as she sits up, his head resting against her inner thigh, fingers start scratching his scalp.

Maybe it’s the desperate tone, the hot tears hitting her cheek but she leans over pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Din.. it’s okay.”

“It’s not, you hate it here.” He pauses, “You’re miserable, it’s not fair and I don’t want you to go.. I feel selfish Mesh’la.”

Hot tears flush his skin, the stress was too much, building up slowly with his own clans disappointment in him, the girl he’s loves finally with him where he belongs but his own people keen on breaking them apart.

“Stay here with me.. it will get better I promise. Asher means nothing to me.. she is a means to an future but she is not mine, you are.”

She silent, deep in thought as fingers pause their movement causing Din to nudge closer into her palm. Tips of dark ringlets tickle her fingers. The mention of another’s name from his lips squeezes her heart. “Cyar'ika.. please stay.”

She was upset, there was no question about it but these few hours alone allowing so much time to just think. It wasn’t Din fault, he must do right by his clan and that means insuring a future by claiming a breeder, despite not liking it, she couldn’t find herself to blame him. He tried to make it better taking his claim back, the signet thrown lazily next to them proves it, the small pile of dark beads that not scatter the floor, an act of service to show his love. It probably wasn’t a good idea, the elders will definitely have words to say but Din didn’t care, anything to fix the gaping hole that occupied where his heart should be.

“Okay..” it’s soft.. unsure but he swears that he’ll do anything to keep her here. The darkness of the room doesn’t show it but Din’s chest finally let’s out a breath of air. “I can’t promise anything.. but I will try Din.”

“Can I come up there with you?”

“You don’t have to ask Din. It’s your bed.”

Din stands on shaky legs but curls up next to his girl, for the first time tonight not aching with sadness, anxiety. There’s a shift in the air, it’s no longer tense but filled with comfortable silence. “I want you to have a safe space here, this could be yours. I don’t have to be here.”

Before she can argue his arms pull her into his chest, no doubt the clay smears against skin. Any reasonable person would think the basker it cold, and uncomfortable but it’s quite the opposite; soft, warmth against her cheek despite the small hairs that tickle her forehead but instinctively presses a soothing kiss to his chin.

Fingers soak against her skin, up and down the think of her forearm as deep and shallow breaths calm him down. Despite the fact she chose to forgive him, his heart is still stammering inside his chest.

“Look at me, see me the way no one else does.” It’s so easy to give up the creed, it’s all for her. He has no doubt that she will accept his offer of marriage, it may take time but he won’t give up.

“I don’t want to.” She pauses, “I don’t want to be the reason you disappoint your clan anymore then necessary.”

Din doesn’t know what to say. He’s happy at the answer but kind of hoped she did open her eyes, relieve him of this weight of the creed. “If you marry me.. you’ll be able to see whenever you want. It won’t break my creed.”

“I don’t think that’s for the best.” It’s finally said with his future’s best interest. The leader of the clan needed a strong queen, and will not accept anyone but Mandalorian like them. The way the elders talked about the marriage with her to Din was enough to know she will never be welcomed here, She would not be the reason for his shame.

“I was hoping you didn’t hear that.” She bites the inside of her cheek with heat that sears her face, not knowing what to say.

“Stay a little longer. If you decide you don’t want to marry me then I’ll bring you home myself. Be open minded with me. No matter how much I love you, I love you enough to let you go sweet girl. I want you to know that.” The words sting hard against both of their hearts, a large scar that would stay forever.

“I’ll stay with you.” While she doubts her mind will change, it hurts too much to think of a life without the Mandalorian, without Grogu. “I love you too Bear.”

The lips that meet hers are bruising, almost too rough as they show their appreciation but just enough that all air is knocked from her chest, heat sources from her stomach, setting cheeks ablaze. “Maker – you are so sweet, my sweet girl.”

“You – just always make me feel so…” He can’t put the feeling into words, how could he explain the thumping his chest every time she smiles? The instant warmth when her skin touches his own? There are no words that can explain the way his heat falters inside his chest, heat burns cheeks that it’s embarrassing, thankfully she can’t see. “Right…” Are the words he decided to go with, simple but they hold meaning. “It feels so right with you.”

***

Morning rolled around way too quick, the bright white light temporarily blinding the pair as the shift away from the window, it’s perfect sync the way his chest presses against her back and flushes against his skin, arms wrapping around her waist feel the warmth. Lips lay soft kisses against the skin of her shoulder with a soft sigh. “Goodmoring pretty girl.”

There’s a certain softness that lingers in the air, the vulnerability of last night weighs heavy but despite the tears when the morning light hits there’s hope, hope of holding onto what hangs by a thin thread.

Even though her eyes are open, she doesn’t dare turn due to the fear of too much light entering the room. Small, green fingers press against her cheeks with a soft coo, head tilting just enough so his head level with his mother. “Good morning bear..” Fingers stretching out to pull the child closer only to press a soft kiss to the talons of his fingers as she addresses him. “Hi little one, how long have you been up?”

Din doesn’t have to look at the child to know what he wants as he sighs, lips pressing into her neck to savior one more minute of her skin, her smell.

“Get ready, we will go get breakfast and go for a walk. I have something to show you." 

***

After breakfast, making sure his girl and son are fed, he asks one of the others of the clan to watch the child, which is gladly accepted. It hurts, she’s glad for the little guy, how easily the clan wants him but can’t help but feel a little jealous, especially the looks they get as her and Din walk hand and hand into the forest. 

During the little walk Din tells her stories of wondering in this exact forest, always getting in trouble for wondering too far, climbing trees that are too high, he’s always had that spark, the need to adventure, it’s no surprise why he left his home for so long.

The temple isn’t that big, small compared to the one she managed to squeeze into and interrupt the meeting between Din and the Elders yesterday but it’s older. The thickness and greenery of the forest had started to take it over, long vines and trees form into it, small peaks of gold and tan clay peek through, if it wasn’t for the sun hitting the peak of beskar at the point of the roof it would be impossible to even know it’s there. 

Curious eyes peer back as she faces the helmet, through her own reflection she can see the way the sun beats down on her, eyes crystals as Din laces his fingers with her own guiding her towards the entrance with a, “Come, my love.”

The hall is dark, there’s no source of light until orange finger tips press into the side of his helmet where a small flash of light is orbited into the hall. There’s a few doors, old and withering but Din pulls her through one giant open arch and once entering the room she’s greeted with colorful bindings of books, covers made from bright oranges to dull browns, bookcases built into the clay walls surround her. 

There’s a large book in particular, all alone on a podium that stands alone in the center of the room, it’s made from old leather, pages torn and weathered but the same symbol on the front cover is the necklace that is wrapped around Grogu’s neck from a piece of strand, the one Din has given him so long ago. 

"This is my legacy.” Din’s fingers press against the small of her back, guiding slowly towards the old book. Orange fingertips run the binding, helmet looking back at her for confirmation. She nods unsurely as he flips it open, there’s scribbles, symbols in which she doesn’t understand but there’s pages and pages until he stops. There’s two words at the tops of the page, fingers trace the hydrographics as she catches the sigh under the vocoder. “I was not born a Mandalorian but the people who took me in, my father watched out for the clan before me. This is his name.”

There’s a line, different from all the others bold in the color red, the first of it’s kind as he traces it to the other word. “This is my name. Much like you, I was an outsider. I wasn’t part of the clan until I swore the creed.”

“You want me to swear the creed?”

“No mesh'la.” It’s amazing how clam and collective his is, never faltering from what he’s trying to explain just trying to get her to understand, feel what he’s trying to say. “The red line broke the first rule in the history of this clan, no outsider even a foundling is able to be Mand'lor but here I am.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you are so worried about my name but being my wife will not shame me.” Din continues before any other words could be said, “You believe that you will make the clan dislike me but I have been shamed by whole life. My father made sure of that when he named me to suppress him as next Mand'lor. He broke the rule of only a child being born into a clan to be leader. He chose me.”

“Din you are a real  -.”

“Shhhh. Let me finish.” A soft hand soothes the top of her head, words dying in her throat as he plays with the tips of her hair, smooth and untamed from just being thrown back into a messy updo. “My father is much like me. Him and my mom could not have children, they tried and tried. For pure respect for my mother he wouldn’t accept his breeder so he named me his son, it was against all rules, made me next in line.”

The red line almost represents how different he is, the target he still has on his back even though it was so many cycles ago. “You will not shame me, they already don’t accept me. They do not want me as their leader but not even the elders can take my title away only by a challenge but I don’t see that happening.”

He pauses, pressing closer until the helmet kisses the smooth skin of her cheek. “What I am trying to say is you don’t need to worry about my name, it’s already wrong to them, I will never be what they want.” His touch is soft, gentle as flat palms rub softly against shoulders, rubbing gently against her biceps, squeezing gently. “If it ever comes to it Grogu will be named by heir, I will not accept any breeder.”

The feeling in his own chest was heavy, crushing memories of teasing and unwanted stares as a child, he can still see some now as he walks through the small village, he was never meant to be here, he’s an outsider no matter how much he wants to believe less. “We are the same, except I am not more accepted because I am Mandalorian, while you are -”

“Not.” She finishes biting her lip with such intensity that the skin breaks, a small spot of blood appear but gloves press against her cheek, angling her face to meet his gaze, or which she guesses is his gaze. 

“You will be if you marry me, they will have to accept you. It’s the creed.” Guilty eyes drops from his own, watching the way his chest moves under all the beskar, slow, nervous breaths but he understands. “You don’t need to answer me, I told you to think about it but just know, nothing in this world can come between us. No elders and especially no breeder, there’s no one else I want. For you I would do anything and if they means breaking all the rules and having my clan disapprove of me more I do not care.” Smooth fingers rub across cheek bones, a tickle of a smile against his features.

“You can’t see but I’m smiling. Just being here with you is enough for me.” 

There’s a ghost of a one that makes her cheeks blush at his close proximity. “I bet it’s beautiful bear.”

There’s something sweet about the words, almost tooth rotting as his chest fills will molten lava, fingers sieving to take in the hit of them. Never had he heard such sweetness, such softness when it came to himself, it’s intoxicating, making him dizzy with want, eyes drop down to her lips, covering her eyes and reaching behind him to throw the helmet to the ground, not caring where it falls to press smooth lips against her own. 

The air barely touched his face before he is tugging her forward, hand that once covered her eyes tangle her hair as their lips meet with a rush, feverish and filled with intensity. The force of his lips on hers, tongue meeting hers with such intensity it’s bruising but the only way he can pour his heart out. Hearts beating fast inside both of their chests, her own hands find the ringlets of his hair, tugging to deepen the kiss as fist tighten on his own end. Din tilts his head slightly, the bridge of his nose pressing against her nose bumping his own lips into her top one, tongue sliding against them with a deep moan but he stops - doesn’t pull away just enjoys the feeling of hers against his own.

At first she’s confused, breathless moving away but keeping her eyes closed but the heavy throbbing against her hip gives it away. Maker, he’s embarrassed, cheeks hot as he presses his own forehead against hers with a sigh. “I’m sorry -.”

“What are you sorry for?” She offers him a comforting smile, pressing a kiss against his cheek, it’s sweet. “There’s no reason.”

“So sweet.” The way she smiles against his skin, feeling his own dimples against her cheek as arms wrap tightly around the Mandalorian only to feel him squeeze back. “My sweet girl.”

***

By the time they get back darkness is starting to fall over the horizon, the large fire and a few torches light the way to home. Din has left a little over an hour ago, which is usually normal except for the fact that he said he’ll be right back with Grogu but still isn’t here.

She debates leaving, mostly because the glances and snarls that would follow her especially not be escorted by Din, but she’s worried. What if something happened to Din? Or worse Grogu?

Once again she was wondering down the lit up path, no one seemed to be around, a few children pause from their playing and smile at her but other then that she enters the dinning hall, it’s filled. The first thing she manages to do is smell the beautiful aroma of food that makes her stomach growl, not realizing how hungry she is but that comes to an end when the whole room drops silent.

All eyes are on her, forks dropping with a clank as hateful eyes glare intensely. In the corner of her eyes she sees the Mandalorian stand, no one can see his face but the way the ‘T’ of his visor stares is dangerous, testing, the growl the rumbles his chest is a warning, anyone who had a scene would deal with him. That was enough promise to have the room eating again, no longer silent as chatter fills the mess hall again.

A hand is placed against the small of her back, cheek of his helmet kisses her own with a whisper. “What are you doing here, love?”

The words sting, eyes shift over his own with a grimace as she pulls away from his touch. “Why? Is this only for the clan?”

A way to separate her more, keep the clan happy by isolating her from any form any outing. It makes sense, the Mandalorian wouldn’t have his people constantly at his throat, suddenly his words from before no longer mattered, they made her stomach twist, eyes water as the Din shakes his head. “No, I didn’t mean it like that. hey, hey..” Fingers pull her close into his chest, fingers grip her chin, force her to peer into his eyes. “We have a visitor from another clan is all. He can be a real asshole, I just didn’t want you around him. 

“Why because I’ll shame you even more?”

“Stop.” It’s firm, sends shivers down her skin at how he stiffens, looking around the room not wanting to make too much of a scene. “Come sit and eat.. I was just about to bring you dinner.”

It’s hard not to be obedient, he’s intimating, towers over her and she just knows the scowl under his helmet. Before anymore attention can be drawn to the pair he’s walking towards the table, leaving her standing there with no chose to take the seat next to him. 

“Who is this?” She barely had a chance to register the two additions to the table, the one is a woman with long blonde hair, piercing blue eyes that sits almost on top of the man, she wears nothing but a thin, sheer dress that when she moves her arms the outline of her nipples can be seen but no one seems too interested, almost as if it was normal. There’s a blue Mandalorian next to her, large beads lay against his chest, they also match Din’s necklaces but are made from beskar and gold. His armor is quiet similar, but it’s a dark, royal blue with lines of gold in the creases of it, his helmet his decorated with dark, black lines of clay, there’s no symbols just senseless finger paint. 

Din looks up to meet his gaze, there’s a warning in his silence but the other Mandalorian doesn’t seem to care, only tilts his head with a look she can only guess is mischief. “You know Din, It’s very uncommon to take a mistress before having a wife.”

“I’m not a mistress.” The words are hissed through her teeth, jaw flexing as she clenches them. The blue Mandalorian laughs, it’s crackles darkly and makes her stomach turn. 

“Firey, I love it. I wonder if what you have under that tunic is as beautiful as you are, Mesh’la.” The same words that sound so good on the tongue of Din sound so sickly and dark on the strangers. Fist ball against her lap, the feeling of Din’s hands against her back are there to calm her, stopping her from speaking anymore so naturally, he does instead. 

“Leave her alone.” Din wishes to say more but just dismisses the man, at the very moment he could not risk a war between the clans, especially after being gone for so long. What good leader would bring war and destruction on only their first few weeks back? Besides it was only a few weeks before the Winter Solaces and despite how much he wanted to wrap his hands around Viven’s neck, he couldn’t risk returning from the summer lands with his own homeland in ruins.  

Din was going to let it go, leave his girl to eat but the words Viven says next makes his blood boil, “You can have mine, If i can have yours.”

His mouth falls open under the helmet, anger burns his veins and continues to warming is body as it spreads like water until he’s abruptly standing but Viven is not easily scared, he matches his stance, leaning over to  push Din’s fingers away as they come down as a warning against his chest as he speaks. “You are in my land, insulting my woman -.”

Din’s hand twitches next to the blaster strapped to his hip as Viven leans closer. “You don’t scare me Din, you’re not even a real Mandalorian.”

The way Din shakes is scary, trembling as his breaths holds inside his chest before long, quick breaths move the beskar as he moves to with no doubt pounce at the man but the small hands takes his own distract him as warm fingers twine through the gaps of his own quickly pulling him towards the exit without a word.

She manages to pull them into a room down the hall, hands pressing against his chest in hopes that the change of scenery will help but his hands snatch her wrist, a rough almost inaudible growl catches the static of the vocoder. “The way he talked about you like you were some piece of meat, I’m going to kill him.”

“Shhh.” She sooths, fingers pressing against that junction of where the helmet and his shirt almost meet, leaving that small piece of skin that just radiates heat, curling the hairs with her pointer finger. His chest is stuttering under her touch but he’s too angry to notice, it’s sits in his stomach every breath that expands his chest burns with fury. 

“No, I’m going to go out there and teach him how to respect a woman.” He’s trembling, intensely staring at her as she reaches over to curl her fingers under the chest plate but he’s ready to break away, fist forming to charge out that door and snap his neck but as her hands drop lower his breath stops. His chest doesn’t dare move as her own hands shake but for a whole another reason. She’s nervous, scared of whatever the Mandalorian might do and this time it would be her fault, she would be the reason and the clan would blame him, hate him more than they already do. Fingers slip low and lower until they squeeze the outline of his erection.

He didn’t even notice over the anger and frustration that had filled his entire being but none the less she earns a lustful moan. His fingers catch her wrist, rougher then he tends too but he can think, with anger rushing his body and her hand wrapping around his throbbing hardness. It’s too much, other hand finds her hip digging small crescent shaped marks into the skin through her shirt. “W-What are you doi -.”

“Shhh, let me take care of you. Can I?” It was risky, nothing she would ever do but the only way she could possibly think to distract him. He’s tense, not moving a muscle as the small hands leave his erection instead fall under his shirt as fingers run along the line of his trousers, feeling the coolness of the jean’s button before pressing down and pulling it from the buttonhole. Her hand slips down, past the elastic of his underwear to hold his heavy cock in her hand, he hisses instantly at the contact, eyes never leaving hers as a thumb moves up to spread the beading pre-cum to lubricate her hand as gives him a test stoke in which he lets out a loud groan.

“Please.” It’s a whimper, barely audible but just enough to show how bad he needs this. Almost instantly her hands tighten, moving at a pace that makes his head spin.

His heart is pounding inside his chest, it’s heard in his ears unable to make out any other words. Heat fills the helmet, a thick fog made from his own pants makes it hard to breath, it’s exciting, exhilarating as he can still hear the chatting and clanking of forks that’s just separated by a wall. 

“Maker, pretty girl.” It’s whimpered against her hair slow, and breathlessly through the static of his helmet as it falls to rest his forehead against the top of her hair as her hand sets an unforgiving pace. 

Small pants bounce of the walls, his hips move to meet up to her own trembling hands. He let’s out a whine of disappointment as she pulls away but his eyes widening as she brings her hand close to her mouth, spitting on her palm. “Fuck…”

He’s so lost in the moment, the way her wet palm wraps around his pulsing cock as sweat begins to bead across his forehead, heat growing deep inside his stomach as he trembles under the feeling of her hand tighten around the base of his cock. Eyes squeezing in pleasure as the familiar pit inside his stomach begins to build as she strokes in time to meet up with his thrusts.

He’s falling deeper and deeper into her spell, thoughts filled with her.

It’s all her, how good her hand feels milking him for all he can offer, how beautiful she looks like this, eyes never leaving his own as the words fall from swollen lips. “Are you going to cum for me Din?”

It’s pure heaven, the way her thumb rubs his head ever so often. Just the right amount of pressure that it stings so good, burns his thighs as her fingertips dig into them. 

“Yes, Maker, yes sweetheart.” He chokes, body stiffening as he feels his balls tighten, body stutter as she pushing his pants lower past his knees as she kneels. The sounds that bounce off the wall are sinful, dirty and wet as a familiar ball of heat fills his stomach as she drops onto her knees.

She offers her face, mouth opening slightly in concentration as her hand squeezes his head one more time but he can’t help but think it’s for him as his thighs quiver and with one last trust into her hand as white, thick strands of cum paint her face pretty.

The Mandalorian in panting above her, fingers that found her hair are now rubbing softly, curling around the hair in a comforting but lazily way. He feels slightly dizzy, a post orgasm haze blurs his eyes, makes his knees ache but none the less he tucks himself back into his pants before sitting in front of her. He pulls at his cape, pressing gently against her skin to wipe at his mess, a soft laughing falling from his lips. 

“To think I thought you brought me in here to calm me down.” There’s that sweet smile that makes his heart jump but the way her eyebrows furrow with playful eyes is new. 

“That’s what I was doing.”

“Sneaky girl.” The words are whispered affectionally into her neck as he finishes and throws the cape somewhere across the room. There’s a  small tisk that falls from his lips makes her laugh. Fingers roam the bottom of the helm, seeking a kiss from those soft lips but the loud commotion outside makes him stiffen, raising to his feet as the yelling continue. His hand takes her own, this time he is the one dragging her through the threshold of the dinning hall.  Viven stands over the crowd as if he wants to speak but that’s not what pisses Din off, it’s how  dangerously close to his throne, almost acting like it doesn’t exist. 

“This man can’t lead you!” Viven’s words are loud, powerful from his chest as he catches their attention. The dinning hall is quiet now, a celebration now ruined with sourness. “He will betray the way of the Mandalore, he will shame us all, he has no wife, offers no future for you. He holds a foundling that will never survive, it is too weak. He has failed to bring it back to it’s people.”

Din stiffens at the words, hateful as they spray across the room. His son will survive, he is stronger than anyone here, no one chooses to see it. The mention of Grogu as his first balling on his lap as murmurs break the threshold of silence, heavy boots echo across the hall until they take one step onto the platform, standing to tower the man as the orange tips of his gloves poke at the blue Mandalorian’s armor. “Leave my son’s name out of your mouth, mind your words.”

"Or what? You already shame your clan by not having a wife… Do you plan on stringing this poor girl on forever?” The words make her cheeks flush in anger but realization hits Din almost instantly - the man had made it clear he wanted her but only because he thought it was all for fun, nothing but a sense or pleasure. Viven thought Din had no intention of marrying the girl because it was unheard of, a clan leader must marry another of similar rank, not a nobody who was not a mandalorian none the less. Then again Din wasn’t supposed to have the power he holds, the rules aren’t meant to be broken but also are not set in stone. Even though it wasn’t seen, Din’s stare was intense and boring a hole into the front of Viven’s visor, heart thumping against his chest with frustration, anger that Viven ever thought he would just give her away, trade her like she was  some kind of property.

“That’s not true.” The words leave her mouth before she realizes what she is saying, she’s so frustrated with the whole situation and watching how Din’s shoulders fell with Viven’s last words was the last straw. “We are getting married.”

The way everyone’s glares towards her at the words made her nervous but nothing compared to the way her heart jumped inside her chest as Din’s helmet snaps in her direction. Din felt his cheeks warm, suddenly the man challenging his authority didn’t matter. He’s thankful for the helmet at this very moment as it hides the pink patches of blush on his chest and cheeks. He tries to open his mouth and speak but the twitch of his lips stops him, she looks beautiful right now. 

Frustration clear on her red face, eyebrows furrow with agitation but she bites her bottom lip at his gaze feeling heat over her own skin as she chews it nervously. For a moment they are the only two people the exist, a little lost, unsure but no matter how much they try and fight it they would never be the same without each other. “I’ve accepted his marriage proposal.”

With those five words the room breaks out in chaos but Din can’t seem to care, his eyes can’t leave the sight of his future riduur.

Viven’s dark eyes run over the sight of Din, a loud growl coming from his chest. “I warned your father about you becoming leader, you do nothing but shame our name. You’re not even a real Mandalorian!”

Din’s body physically stiffens, hot, pulsing anger setting his skin ablaze. It’s not anything new, hearing it his whole life how he will never match up to the expectations of them but none the less he was still named leader.

Viven yells words in a different dialect but the reaction of the crowd is filled with yells of support, cheering in a sickening way that makes her stomach twist. Din’s eyes shift from hers to the blue Mandalorian, his words are also foreign but the crowd let’s out a victory cry, it’s sick of easily his own clan turns on him. 

Din Djarin has accepted the challenge to the death for his rightful place as Mand'lor and she has absolutely no idea as Din reaches behind his back to retrieve the spear of beskar as he lets out a warriors cry. 

Tags: @xxyoshiplushxx, @altarsw​, @dinsbeskar​​, @engie115, @owloveyounever​, @peterpangirl21, @couldntbedamned​, @poguesvixen​, @mudhornchronicles​, @mcueveryday​, @softly-sad​, @heythere-mel​, @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives​, @the-last-twin-of-krypton​, @nikkixostan​, @coonflix​, @victias​ (if you want to be tagged, tag list is up by summary)

[kaijuscientists]

Company

My fill for the SFW day 2 prompt: Hurt/Comfort of @dincobbweek

Title: Company

Cobb's supposed to meet Din at a seedy bar in Mos Eisley, but he’s running late and a group of regulars are giving him trouble.

Cobb sits at the bar of a dive in Mos Eisley, waiting for Din. He’d contacted him the day before, on short notice, but he was going to be in the sector and stopping on Tatooine, and Cobb was not about to pass up spending a night with his Mando.

So, Cobb had hightailed it all the way from Mos Pelgo, excitement simmering in his belly at the prospect of seeing Din again.  Unfortunately, it seems Din is running late. Cobb checks his chrono for the fifth time, an hour and a half past when Din had said he’d be there. 

He’s already had a few drinks waiting, and he’s just minding his own business, enjoying his liquor when a rowdy group of humans walk in and situate themselves at the bar. It doesn’t take them long to single Cobb out of the slim crowd, 

“Never seen you here before.” one of them asks. A skinny looking, nerf herder of a guy. 

“Ain’t never been here before.” Cobb says, swirling his drink in his glass. 

“What brings you in?” “Meetin’ someone.” 

“Who ya meetin?” “A friend,” Cobb says, feeling his temple start to flare. “That ok with you?” 

“I dunno.” A second guy chimes in, with a bigger build to him. “Depends on who’s comin’ doesn’t it.” 

“Well, I don’t personally see how that’s any of your business.” Cobb says. 

The last guy, big and bald, starts now. He’d been sizing Cobb up, looking him up and down.  “You’re not from around here are you?”

“I’m about as tatooine as you get.” Cobb says, pushing his empty glass across the counter. The bar keep refilling it, looking like he wants to say something, maybe tell these guys to behave, but it’s not worth the effort or what it might cost him in tips. 

“Based on that accent of yours.” The big guy says, “I’d say you are from some out skirt moisture farm.” 

That makes Cobb’s hackles rise instantly. 

“What business have you got here, really?”

“I told you” Cobb says, tenuous grasp on his temper slipping. “I’m just meeting a friend. Leave me be.” 

“Why don't you just get out of here.” The bald one says, Cobb guesses that he’s probably the one in charge. “This is our bar, and I'd personally like to drink in peace.” 

“Then just leave me alone, partner.” Cobb says, every hair on the back of his neck bristling as one of the guy's lackeys starts to circle him where he sits.  Cobb bows his head, breathes deep. Last thing he needs is to start a fight. He should at the very least wait for Din to arrive before he does that. “I’m not lookin’ to start anything.”

Cobb rolls his shoulders when the guy leans in close, breathing down his neck and it takes all of his self control to not throw back his head and break the guy's nose right there.   

“Hey,” Skinny says, motioning at Cobb’s scarf. “I think this guy has a brand under there.” 

“Oh, you’re a slave, huh.” The leader says, his interest suddenly piqued.  “That sure explains a lot.” 

“I ain’t been a slave in a long time.” Cobb says through grit teeth, his knuckles white as he grips his glass. “Now i’m only gonna ask nice one time — back the fuck away from me.” 

“Yeah, I don’t think so.“ Leader says. “You got any papers?”  

“Maybe we oughta take him in, just in case,” Skinny says, still hovering around Cobb’s back.  “Might get a reward.” 

Cobb slowly pushes away from the bar, ready to cut his losses at this point and leave the bar, maybe he could try to find out what’s keeping Din. 

“Hey you ain't going anywhere, lemme get a good look at that brand.” The leader guy says, finally reaching out and trying to grab Cobb. 

Cobb doesn't like that one bit, his arm shooting out and knocking the man's hand away before he can make contact. “Do not fuckin’ touch me.” 

That’s when the guy behind him decides to grab him, and this time he does throw his head back, hearing and feeling the sickening crack of cartilage as someone's nose breaks. Followed by some muffled cursing as he’s let go. 

“I did warn you.” Cobb says, losing no time before launching himself at the leader, throwing a punch that lands on his jaw and knocks him back.  He quickly spins, throwing another punch at the bald guy, and kicking back to land a kick in the skinny guy's stomach. 

Cobb kneel’s, laying into skinny, punch after punch, until the big guy throws his arms around Cobb’s neck, pulling him back and off his friend. Cobb, reacting on pure instinct at the point, sinks his teeth into the man's forearm, making him let go with a furious scream. 

“You little shit.” The leader yells, grabbing Cobb by the back of his shirt and throwing him to the ground, where he lands sprawled on his belly on the dirty floor, gasping as the wind is knocked from his lungs. 

He’s flipped on his back, and before he can wiggle free, he’s pinned to the ground, knees digging harshly into his chest. 

“Lemme go.” Cobb growls, fighting against the hold, kicking out with his legs, 

“Oh shut up.” the guy says, drawing back his fist, slamming home into Cobb’s face several times in quick succession. 

Cobb is left dazed with his ears ringing when the weight holding him down suddenly relents. He tries to get up, only for sharp pain to explode in his side, as heavy boots collide with his chest over and over. He rolls onto his side, trying to curl into a fetal position to protect his middle. 

Until everything goes quiet and stops.  

Cobb forces his eyes open, uncovering his face to find everyone's attention is on the door. He lets his head fall to the side, and sees a blurry figure standing backlight in the entrance. 

A silhouette he’d recognize anywhere. 

“You’re fucked now.” Cobb groans.

“Is that who you were waiting for?”

Cobb just smiles, blood on his teeth. 

Din walks into the bar, approaching the group with his hand resting on his blaster.

“I think it would be wise if you took your leave.” Din says. And when no one moves a muscle, only staring wide eyed, Din unholsters the blaster and points it right in the man's face who’s holding Cobb down. “Now.” 

The three run, leaving just Din, Cobb, and a few other patrons. 

“For your trouble.” Din says, tossing a few credits on the bar.

“I’m glad you showed up.” Cobb says, as Din lifts him to his feet, he sways until Din gets a hand on his waist to steady him. “I… I coulda taken‘em though.” Cobb mutters, clenching his eyes against a sudden wave of dizziness, leaning into Din.  

“I’m sure you could have.” Din says, placatingly. “Maybe if you hadn’t been drinking.” 

“M’not drunk.” Cobb sighs, his head aches and his face is throbbing, and each breath burns his against his ribs. “I’m injured.”

“I know.” Din says, slipping his arm around Cobb's waist. “Let’s go, I’ve got a room.”

They make their slow way through the streets of Mos Eisley, to the little hotel Din has a room at.  Cobb leaning heavily on Din as they walk, each step jarring his chest, he knows he’s going to have some bruised ribs tomorrow, if not, some cracked.  

“Wait here.” Din says, depositing Cobb on the single bed to return just a moment later with a damp towel.  He sits next to Cobb, cupping his cheek to hold him in place as he gently cleans the blood from his face.  “You want to tell me what happened back there?” 

“They didn’t like how I looked.” Cobb sighs, hissing when Din presses against his split lip. “Started talking shit, saw my brand and threatened to turn me in since I don’t have papers.” 

Din cringes under his helmet, that would certainly be a great way to get a reaction out of him. 

“If I hadn’t been late,” Din says, folding the towel over to a clean clean, dabbing blood from Cobb's nose. “Maybe this could have been avoided.” 

“Those assholes woulda gave me shit regardless.” 

“Maybe.” Din says, moving to clean the dirt smudged on his temple. “But you wouldn’t have ended up in a fight alone.” 

Cobb laughs, regretting it as pain bursts in his chest, gasping as he presses a hand to his ribs. 

“How are your ribs?” Din asks.

“Feel like I got stepped on by a bantha,” Cobb says tightly, gingerly letting out a breath.  “I'm afraid I am not going to be up for any sort of strenuous activity you mighta had planned on tonight.” 

“Do you think I came here just for that?” Din frowns as he runs his fingers though Cobb’s hair, checking for any hidden bumps. “That I see you as what? A convenient fuck.”

“Can’t see any other reason.” Cobb says, letting his eyes fall closed at the feeling, almost asking Din to keep stroking through his hair when he pulls away all too quickly. “I wouldn’t blame you, if it was.”

“Maybe I just enjoy your company.” Din says, gently taking hold of Cobb’s face in both of his hands. Cobb should probably feel intimidated, having the undivided attention of a mandalorian staring him down. But he just feels… cared for. Din presses his thumbs in along his eyes, seemingly satisfied with the lack of response from Cobb. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

Cobb shakes his head.  “You could get company anywhere though.” Cobb says, watching as Din stands, removing his armor piece by piece, placing them neatly on the small desk in the room.

“I don’t want anyone else's.” Din says, unzipping his flight suit, stepping out of it. He’s left in just his helmet, boxers and an undershirt when he turns to face Cobb. “I just want yours.” 

Cobb wants to crack a joke here, about how Din looks ridiculous in his under clothes and helmet, but he can’t find the words, can’t do much of anything under Din’s gaze, except feel his cheeks go suddenly warm. 

“Ok,” Cobb says quietly, following Din as he crosses the tiny room, and starts to undress him with the same care he showed to his armor. Slipping Cobb’s shirt down over his shoulders, he can already see the first bruises forming along his ribs, dark purple and mottled. 

“I can get you something for the bruises tomorrow morning.” Din says, letting his fingers trail lightly along Cobb’s ribs and down to his belt.  Cobb lifts his hips when Din asks, letting him pull his pants down, leaving him in just his underclothes too. 

Din lifts the blankets, tucking Cobb underneath before sliding in behind him. He slips his arm around Cobb’s waist, and pulls him gently flush against him, handling him with more care than Cobb thought he was capable of, compared to their usual rough tumbles.  Cobb sighs, relaxing back against Din’s warm chest, resting his arm over Din’s, drawing his hand up to rest over his belly, lacing their fingers together. 

“Hey, Din?” Cobb whispers, smiling when he feels a rumbling hum in response against his back. “Thank you.” 

“Go to sleep.”