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absurdthirst · 2 months ago

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Riduur in Training {Mando x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 14.3k

Warnings: Sexual training/grooming, mentions of creeds and honor, cults, playing fast and loose with Mandalorian traditions, removing helmets, forced weddings, nudity, masturbation, oral sex (male and female receiving), loss of virginity, fingering, vaginal sex, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, humiliation, dishonor, pregnancy

Comments: You arrive with the Armorer to take your place as Din Djarin's riduur, one that he had no warning of. Trained to be the spouse of the next leader of the covert - you will be dar'manda if he rejects you. And Din is horrified to learn that you have been trained for his pleasure.

A/N: We leaned into the cult-like mindset for this fic. Beware.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“It is your duty to wed Din Djarin.” You have heard these words for weeks now, nerves settling in your belly even though nothing of your anxiety is reflected in the dark visor of the beskar helmet covering your face. You swallow as the ship bringing you to Nevarro starts its descent into the atmosphere and you hear the comm tower direct the Armorer to a docking bay near the town, but she ignores that and turns to the north of the city. Making you chew your lip as the lava flats pass underneath and you see the rockiness of the desert starts to appear. This will be your home, where you will make your family. With Din Djarin, as his riduur, only he doesn’t know it yet.

Another day in Nevarro and Din is settling down to clean his weapons when there’s a knock at his door. Grogu is at school and he is immediately on edge. Working fast to put his blaster together, he stands up and slowly makes his way to the door, pressing the button to open it just as he aims the weapon. “Din Djarin.” The Armorer greets him and he lowers his blaster but keeps it in his hand. His eyes flick beneath the visor between the Armorer and the mysterious Mandalorian beside her. “Can I help you?” He asks, a little perturbed at being disturbed in his solitude.

The mandalorian in front of you does not seem to be expecting you. Your stomach bottoms out and the Armorer speaks again. “We have some business with you.” She doesn’t wait for an invitation, stepping inside the house and you reluctantly follow. You’ve heard of him, seen him from afar but his beskar is impressive upclose. Taller and broader than you imagined, you feel your cunt clench as you imagine this warrior bedding you. He steps back and you look around the little house that he has been living in since the retaking of Mandalore. It’s suitable, but you can tell that he’s not frivolous or used to creature comforts. You can change that for him.

Din is tense, his shoulders back and his legs spread evenly in case this is some kind of trap. He trusts the Armorer to an extent but his upbringing means he doesn’t trust anyone, not even himself. “The business?” He asks, not offering a refreshment like his fellow Nevarrians would. He is a Mandalorian through and through.

“It is time that you take a riduur.” The Armorer tells Din with a hint of irony in her clear voice. You can tell that he’s shocked by the way he rears back and you know that he had no clue what the covert and Mandalore had planned for him. “I have brought you the woman you will enter a riduurok with, create warriors. She is fertile.”

Din can’t help it. He lets out a shocked chuckle and he shakes his helmet, “I do not want a riduur. I have said this many times.”

Your helmet tilts towards the Armorer who shakes her head, “you have avoided the responsibility long enough. As a Mandalorian, it is your duty, your creed, to protect the covert and that includes breeding to add to our numbers. This one is made for you. She will do as you say. You simply have to breed her after your riduurok.”

Din’s fingers flex against the side of his blaster, “I am not ready.”

Still, you don’t speak, even though your head turns towards the Armorer when you are so obviously being rejected by the man you have been raised to marry. “You are ready.” She insists, motioning towards the other rooms where the child that Din has taken under his wing is obviously napping. “Your young charge would do well with having brothers and sisters to help him.”

Din sees you step forward and he shakes his head, “she’s not staying. I do not want a riduur. You need to take her back to the covert.” He demands and shakes his head. “I am not suitable for a riduur. I never will be.”

“If you do not take her as your riduur, you will be dar’manda once more.” She insists. “Part of your creed was to the covert and the covert requires this of you. Mandalore requires this.” The Armorer tells him and you feel ashamed that you are obviously lacking whatever quality that Din requires in a riduur.

“I will be a good riduur.” You tell him. “Trained vigorously for one day giving life to the next generation of Mandalorians.”

Din recoils, not wanting a bride who hand picked for him, reared for him. It is a practice he knew of back when the Mandalorian fled Mandalore and had to recoup their numbers. He doesn’t want to be dar’manda again. He had to find the waters to redeem himself before and it’s not a journey he wishes to repeat. He swallows harshly and takes a moment, “fine. Join us now.” He demands, wanting to get this over with.

The Armorer nods in approval but you almost wish to protest. He does not seem happy. However, you do not say a word, being trained that this is your fulfillment of the Creed. Your duty to Mandalore is to marry Din and have his ad. Your gloved hand reaches out to join with his, only to be ignored by the bounty hunter. You drop your hand, happy that you have not removed your helmet yet due to your embarrassment. “Repeat your vows.” The Armorer insists, turning her head towards you to start.

Taking a deep breath, you begin to speak. “Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.” You recite softly, hoping that Din just needs some time to adjust to the idea of a riduur.

Din inhales deeply as you recite your vows and he isn’t sure what he could say to prevent this. All he can do is take you as his riduur, offer you shelter and make sure you’re well kept. He won’t touch you to consummate the riduurok. He sighs and looks at you. Wondering what you look like beneath the helmet. “Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.” He repeats, back stiff.

Once the vows are repeated, you reach for the locks on your helmet. The Armorer had warned you that Din was also a part of her sect, he did not remove his helmet as you might, in front of others. You only hope that he might remove it once she leaves and you are alone. Slowly slipping the Beskar off your head, you look up into the visor of your now riduur. “Hello, Din.” You greet him softly with your name, since that hadn’t even been exchanged.

His eyes widen under the helmet. You’re gorgeous. He is taken back by your beautiful face and it is a few moments until he recovers. “Hello.” He says your name but doesn’t take off his helmet. “Is that all?” He turns to look at the armorer.

“I will leave you to become better acquainted.” The armorer seems pleased as she clasps her hands together. “She has never had a man, so take care her first time.”

You bite your lip, embarrassed that she would be so casual with that information, although he is now your riduur. “Thank you for bringing me here, safe journey back to Mandalore.”

The Armorer nods. “This is the way.” You repeat the phrase and soon she has disappeared out of the house to leave you alone with Din.

Din sighs as he makes his way back to the table, disassembling his blaster so he can continue with the work he was doing before he was interrupted. “If you have things…you can take the spare room.” He jerks his helmet towards the door across the cabin, opposite of his room and Grogu’s. He doesn’t plan to consummate the riduurok. He plans to leave you untouched. He did as the Armorer asked and he has fulfilled the requirement of his creed.

Tilting your head, you stare at the Mandalorian that both the Armorer and Bo-Katan have talked about with pride. He is uninterested in you. “Do you wish that I had a cock instead of a cunt?” You ask bluntly, wondering if he preferred male companionship. “I know that we must have sex to breed and if you prefer, you can take me from behind.” You offer. “I can use my mouth to arouse you?”

Din snorts, he can’t help it. “No. I don’t wish you had a cock. I don’t wish - I do not wish to take you without us - I don’t know. We don’t know each other and now you’re my riduur. I am not consummating this riduurok. You are welcome to live here but I will not touch you.” He says with finality.

You stare at him in shock. “But we have to.” You insist. “Part of our vows are to create warriors.” You are panicking slightly since this is what you’ve been trained to do. Be a Mandalorian spouse and to bear his children. “We cannot have warriors if you don’t fuck me.”

“I do not desire warriors. I have a foundling. I don’t want ads.” He tells you and you appear gobsmacked. “I’m sorry, riduur. I did not ask for this. I was perfectly happy on my own in my cabin here. The Armorer wishes for more than I can give.” He says, grabbing the cloths to start cleaning his blaster.

It’s clear when he doesn’t speak again and refuses to look your way that he is ignoring you. Speechless, you turn and walk towards the door that he had motioned to. The spare room where you were supposed to sleep. Your pack with all your belongings was still on your shoulder and you felt like giving him some time might be best.

Din diligently cleans his weapons, taking more time than necessary to do so. He sighs when he hears the door open and he looks up after putting his last blaster together to find you standing before him. “Why- dank ferrik what are you- why are you naked?” He demands to know, turning his helmet to avoid looking at you to give you some dignity.

You are used to your own nudity, spending hours naked in the covert while other Mandalorians barely undress for their showers, or don’t undress at all if they use a sonic shower. “So you can breed me.” You answer, moving closer to him. “I wish for you to breed your warrior into my belly. I can provide great satisfaction and pleasure to you.”

Din recoils, confused by your desire for him to get you pregnant, for you to pleasure him. “Riduur. Why…you act like you’ve been raised for this?” He offhandedly comments. “I don’t want to fuck you, to breed you. Please. Get dressed.” He pleads, unable to look at you.

“This is my purpose.” You are so confused and distressed by his attitude. Has he not been taught that for breeders to keep to the Creed, they must exhaust all efforts to bear warriors? “I have no wish to be dar’manda.” You shake your head. “I will learn however you wish to receive pleasure and make sure that you are satisfied every time.”

Din can’t believe what he’s hearing. “I don’t - that isn’t what you are here for. Your creed…it’s not to be my baby machine, riduur. I will not breed you. You will not pleasure me. I will not touch you. Please get dressed.” He says coldly, deciding that acting like he’s indifferent to you would make you do what he says.

You start shaking, terrified of breaking your creed and you can’t help the tears that start falling. “I’ve - I’m going to be- I can’t- I’ve failed.” You sob, turning around and rushing back into the room that you had undressed in. The Armorer had assured you that Din would breed you and now you are being rejected.

Din sighs, closing his eyes beneath the helmet, and he knows he has hurt you but he cannot breed. His life has only just settled and he has the kid. He doesn’t need another one, or several, distracting him from doing what is needed to keep Grogu safe and healthy. That’s his creed. He hears you sobbing and decides to give you some space, heading out to pick the kid up.

It takes you some time to stop crying, but you know that you cannot force a warrior like Din Djarin to bend to your will just because of your creed. He must want this as much as you do, so you set about to make sure that he understands how you will improve his life. Your armor laid aside, you do not need to wear it inside your home with your riduur and you put on some of the outfits you had worn while you were in training for comfort. Leaving your room and making your way to the small galley style kitchen to fix him and his foundling a proper meal to enjoy when they return.

When Din returns home with Grogu, the kid coos in surprise at the smell, always hungry, and Din can’t deny that his own stomach rumbles as the scent wafts through his filter. He opens the door and finds you in the small kitchen, wearing tight pants that cling to your ass and he muffles his groan. Din has always been an ass man when he picks his holos and Maker, yours is gorgeous. He can’t let you know that. “This, uh, this is Grogu. My foundling.” He introduces you to Grogu who tilts his head and offers you a smile.

“Hello, Grogu.” You tell the child your name and smile in delight when he waves his arms for you to pick him up. “I hope you are hungry.” Din scoffs. “The kid is always hungry.”

Din watches as you pick up the child and his back straightens a little defensively as you hold the kid he’s fought so hard and sacrificed so much to protect. You notice but don’t say anything as Din watches you. Grogu lifts his hand to your cheek, cooing, and Din watches the awestruck look on your face and he can’t help but think about how pretty you look.

The kid has some powers, the Armorer had warned you about it. The kid was a Jedi. But you didn’t realize he could show you things. You see Din, saving him, protecting him.

Din wonders what Grogu is showing you but your awed face makes his stomach twist and he sighs, “come on kid. Let’s sit you down for dinner.” He says and takes the child from you to put him in the high chair so he can have his food. He won’t eat in front of you. Even if you are his riduur.

“You are allowed to take off your helmet in front of me to eat.” You remind him softly, fixing Grogu a plate and then one for Din. “But I can go into the bedroom if you wish to have some privacy.” He might eat in front of the child but you want to show him that you can bend to some of his ways like a good riduur should. Perhaps it will help him become more comfortable about the situation.

Din shakes his head, “I will eat after. Sit. Enjoy the meal you cooked.” He orders and you set the plate down in front of Grogu. He doesn’t want you to miss out on enjoying the meal you spent time cooking.

You feel bad, knowing the food is better when it’s hot, but you listen to him. Using the plate you had fixed for him and sitting down at the small table. “I will be quick.” You promise.

Din doesn’t argue, he sits down and watches you and Grogu eat. It’s unusual, having another Mandalorian around him, but you don’t seem to have the edge that most Mandos have. You are softer, less hardened by war and survival. “You have known the Armorer for a while?” He asks, wondering how long this has been planned.

Nodding, you look up at his visor and then back down to your plate. “I was a foundling, like you.” You explain. “But I was raised by a sect that removed their helmets. When I was of age, I was sent to your Armorer for training.”

Din frowns under his helmet, watching you eat. It's strange to see someone eating in front of him that isn't the kid. He never sits down to eat with others. "Training? For - for battle?" He asks, glad you can't see the confusion on his face.

“No.” You shake your head. “I was training to be a proper riduur to a leader.” You tell him quietly. “To be able to pleasure you and stand by your side as you guide our people into the light.”

Din is half glad you can’t see the horrified look on his face beneath the helmet. “You mean you…you’ve been trained to be mine?” He asks, “or for - for a leader in general. I’m not - I gave up being Mandalor. I don’t understand why you’re mine. If you’re mine.”

“Yours.” You clarify. “The Armorer had chosen me for you when you were still bounty hunting for the covert here on Nevarro. Actually….” You wipe your mouth and set down the napkin. “I was supposed to be joined with you three years ago. Before the covert fell.”

To say he’s shocked is an understatement. Din inhales sharply at the news and he doesn’t know how to react, grateful once more that you can’t see his face. You’re meant for him. You’ve been trained to be his. “Why me? Why- why not give you to another Mando?” He asks, confused now he’s no longer the Mandalor.

“I don’t know.” You shrug slightly. “The armorer made her decision and that was enough for me.” You know that the armorer would not give you to someone who wasn’t worthy. You were trained to be a good riduur, you cannot be a good riduur to a bad one. “Do you wish that I had been given to another Mandalorian?” You ask, looking up at him under your lashes. His broad frame nearly overwhelms you as you sit while he stands and you wish you could show him some of the pleasure you can provide.

He doesn’t know how to react. Any way he reacts will hurt you or him and he doesn’t want to do that to you. You deserve more than him placating you. He sighs and shakes his helmet, “I never asked for a riduur. I never asked for you.” He confesses, “I don’t know how to feel. We are bound now so I will do my best by you. You will stay here. Fed and clothed and you’ll have whatever you want but I cannot give you me. I’m- I can’t do that when you are only performing a duty.”

You frown, unhappy with his answer. You gesture to the child who is smearing his food over his face. “You do your duty towards your foundling, do you not?” You ask softly, standing up. “You did not love him when you first found him, yet you would seemingly break your creed to save him.” Din stiffens and you quickly shake your head. “He did not show me your face. He keeps that for himself.” You assure him, knowing that it would upset him to know you know what he looks like, even if you are his riduur. “Your fondness for the child grew.” You collect your plate and sigh. “I hope that can be the same for us.”

Din decides to not continue talking with you. He sighs and watches you as you clean the dishes. Grogu coos and tilts his head at him and he raises his eyebrows at the kid despite him not knowing his facial expression. “Don’t.” He murmurs before he looks over at you. “I have a duty to you but that duty does not include taking sexual pleasure from you without cause.”

“Cause?” You snort and set the plate of Din’s food on the table after you finish cleaning up. “I didn’t think there needed to be a cause beyond wanting to give and receive pleasure.” You hum, moving over to the child and picking up the foundling. “Eat your meal, Din Djarin. I will make sure that Grogu is cleaned up.”

He doesn’t say anything else as you leave the room and he is tense when Grogu looks back at him but he doesn’t comment, wanting you to feel like he trusts in your riduurok even though he hasn’t trusted anyone for a long time until he met the kid. He listens for several moments as you take Grogu into his room until he decides to unlatch his helmet and he sets it down on the table. He scratches his cheek and picks up the fork, digging into the meal you made. He groans softly at the taste. Maker, you’re a good cook.

Cleaning up the kid, it’s cute how easily he settles into your arms. “This isn’t exactly what I had in mind when I was tasked with raising warriors.” You murmur to yourself and to the heavy eyed little one. “But I hope that I help, rather than be a burden. Your dad doesn’t want me here.”

Din finishes his meal and washes up his plate, setting it on the side to dry. He secures his helmet just as you knock on the hallway to come back into the kitchen. “I’m covered.” He declares and you walk in. “The kid asleep?” He asks and you nod, sitting down on the chair opposite him. “The meal was good. Thank you for cooking. I don’t remember the last time I had a meal cooked like that.” He confesses, “maybe my mother.” He winces at the unlocked memory.

“I’m glad you liked it.” You tilt your head, watching his body language and realize he must not like to talk about his past. “If you don’t mind, I will take over cooking.”

Din chuckles, “I won’t argue that, cyar’ika.” He promises and clears his throat as he watches you. You are beautiful. In and out of beskar. He wouldn’t tell you that though. You’re here because of the Armorer and he needs to remember that.

“Well….I have a feeling you won’t be comfortable removing your armor if I am awake, and you probably need some time out of it.” You are guessing he’s like a lot of the Mandalorians from the Nevarro covert. “Let your skin breath.” With that, you stand and give him a small smile. “Good night, riduur.”

“Good night.” He murmurs, watching you go and when the door to your room closes, he sighs and rubs his helmet. He doesn’t know what to do. He’s bound to you now but to know that you’ve been bred for him makes him anxious and uncomfortable. He’s never been “in love” or anything close to it. Never allowed himself to get close to anyone. Emotionally or physically. He has seen holovids of sex but he is painfully inexperienced in that department. He has paid for oral, has had a few women he’s fingered behind a cantina, but he’s never experienced penetration.

In your room, you strip down naked, comfortable with your form and lay down. The fullness of Din’s shoulders and his trim waist has you dripping and it should be a sin for his voice to be so sexy through the vocoder of his helmet. Raspy and shooting straight through you. Your fingers slide down your stomach and you moan quietly, imagining that they are his fingers, even with the gloves on. They slide down, circling your mound before delving into your slit and whimpering quietly when you rub your clit.

Din swallows harshly, walking into his room to strip out of his beskar, and he is annoyed with himself that he’s half hard at the thought of you in the other room. You’re beautiful and he hasn’t been around a woman this much since Omera and he isn’t sure if what he felt was attraction to her or protective. He sits down on the edge of his bed, torn until he grips his now hard cock in his hand.

“Oh Maker.” You moan softly, slowly rubbing your bundle of nerves and letting your legs spread apart as you massage your breast. “Fuck.” You hiss, feeling your nipple harden and you slide your fingers down to dip into your slick cunt. Imagining what Din would look like under his armor.

Din grunts as he fists his cock, now hard and aching. It’s been so long since he touched himself, too preoccupied with the events that happened before he settled on Nevarro. He imagines your lips wrapping around his cock. It’s so wrong but you’re beautiful and meant for him. It’s hard to stay away. He will but for tonight, he will indulge in the thought of having you.

With your hand between your thighs, you imagine all the ways you would pleasure your riduur. All the ways you could learn to share pleasure. You’ve never taken a man before but you are well acquainted with a cock, wondering how impressive he is beneath the flight suit he wears. “Din.” You moan softly, enjoying the way his name rolls off your lips.

His hand pauses and he thinks he heard his name. He shakes his head, knowing he's imagining things, and he continues pumping his cock. He imagines pushing into you, seeing your face as you take his cock. He groans as he imagines filling you with his cum, watching it drip out of you.

Your fingers dip inside your cunt again, making you moan louder and brace your feet on the bed as you push them deeper. Wishing that you were sealing your vows with your riduur instead of fingering yourself. Even being in the training room was preferable. “Fuuuuck.” You hiss in frustration, not feeling as good as you know you could.

Din grunts as he fists his cock, getting closer and closer. He hisses as he squeezes his cock and he can't hold back anymore. He cums, spurting onto his chest and hand, groaning your name softly as he imagines taking you as his riduur but he can't do that. He closes his eyes as he rides his orgasm until the guilt hits him. You're innocent and pure. He isn't. He doesn't deserve you.

Sighing when you finally find that spot that feels so good, you rub your clit. Pinching your nipple and moaning as you imagine it’s Din. He’s a warrior, one that can also be tender and you imagine him taking you apart with his cock and his fingers, his helmet on in your imagination. “Din, Din.” You moan softly, getting closer to that peak and your thighs start to shake.

Din soon settles into bed after cleaning himself up and he swears he heard his name again. Sighing, he closes his eyes and allows himself to sleep without his helmet, the door is locked and he needs to process the day. He doesn’t know what he’s going to do but he’s bound to you now so he needs to care for you but he won’t touch you. He can’t. Not when you are doing it out of duty, of obligation.

Your peak is satisfying, but you know would be so much better if it were with Din. You had been trained to want sex, to crave it and yet now that you could have a man, he was rejecting you. Getting under the covers, you wonder if it is just a matter of him getting to know you before he gives in and touches you. You hope so.

The next morning, Din is dressed and feeding the kid by the time you wake up. "Good morning." He greets you softly and the kid coos at you before he digs back into his porridge. "I could've done that. You should've woken me up." You huff and Din shakes his head, "you are not here to serve us."

Your shoulders slump and you can’t help but feel like a failure. “I don’t know what to do.” You whisper quietly. “I- my creed- my purpose- you don’t want me here.” This is nothing like the armorer had told you it would be, and you feel like a failure. “I will no longer be mandalorian.”

“You are my riduur. You’re not failing. I - I don’t mind you here but-” He says your name, “you aren’t my servant. You’re my equal and I can make our foundling breakfast.” He declares and your beautiful face turns down.

You frown slightly and sigh. “Even if I am your equal, you would have me do nothing, contribute nothing.” You are stubborn in some ways and now you are clawing to find your place here. “I cannot share your bed, I cannot care for you and your foundling, I cannot share your burden.” You turn away and shake your head. “I am not allowed to share your life.” You walk back to your room quietly to put your armor back on.

Din sighs, looking at the kid who clicks his tongue at him in reprimand. “I know.” Din sighs and Grogu finishes his food. After he’s finished eating, Din cleans up and takes Grogu to school, wanting to give you some space.

Once you have your armor on, you pull your weapons out, intent on cleaning them. Knowing that Din would be happier if you weren’t here, you decide to leave your bag packed. Bringing your weapons out to the table to start disassembling them.

Din returns home without Grogu to find you sitting at the kitchen counter, back in Beskar and even wearing your helmet. That disappoints Din a little, already missing seeing your beautiful face. He can still imagine you naked. Wants to even if his conscience won’t allow it. He sighs and makes his way onto the porch, deciding to look through his holos to see if anything new has come in

You finish cleaning your weapons, reassembling them and sliding them into the holster on your hip. Your helmet tilts slightly when Din comes back into the room. "I am going into town." You tell your riduur, giving him more consideration than he had given you when he left.

Din nods, not wanting to show you that he’s a little bothered by you leaving but he grunts softly, “be careful.” Despite knowing you’re more than capable as a Mandalorian to look after yourself.

You nod, turning and walking away from the small dwelling and checking your map that is pulled up on your bracer. You try not to take his warning to heart, it doesn’t mean that he cares, probably that he would just prefer not to have to provide any backup.

****

It’s been a week since you arrived and Din has tried to keep his distance. It’s clear to him that you’re not happy to not be fulfilling your duty but he doesn’t try to rectify that. He needs to keep away. It’s hard though. Every day he’s spent around you is making it harder to not touch you. You are beautiful. Inside and out he’s discovered. He spends his nights touching himself, jerking himself off to thoughts of you.

It is probably the longest time that you have spent in your armor in years. When you were training, you had kept to fitted clothes, with your helmet on as you moved through the tunnels, but when you were in your training room, you didn’t have it on. It wasn’t needed. Now, in deference to your riduur, you were wearing your armor and helmet unless you were sleeping and it’s driving you insane. Chaffing and making you feel too encapsulated. You had been eyeing the hot spring that was behind the living quarters, knowing that a soak would go a long way to restoring your spirits.

Din just dropped Grogu off at school when he is walking across the sand and sees you. He knows it’s you. His visor zooming in to see you getting into the hot spring. Naked. He should look away. He should go inside. He can’t. His cock twitches and he changes direction to hide away from your line of sight so he can watch you. It’s so wrong, but fuck, his hand is sore from jerking himself off. To know you’re his in name, in creed, has him hard and aching for you. Especially now he knows what you’re like. You’re sweet and kind, gentle with Grogu and he knows he is getting more and more lenient with his strict vow to stay away from you.

Moaning at the heat and how good it feels on your skin, you settle down onto a little rock ledge inside the spring that acts as a natural seat. You wonder if Din has ever soaked in the spring, but figure that he is so ridged, he would not for fear of someone coming up on him. Throwing your arms back, you close your eyes, sighing at the freedom and sense of pleasure you get from being out of your armor.

Maker. He is aching in his flight suit, watching you as you arch your back to expose your breasts over the swell of the water and he groans at the way your nipples harden. He moves closer to watch you, knowing this is wrong but he wants to see you.

You had reached out the armorer to talk to her, only getting the advice to stay firm and not let Din drive you away. So here you are. Right now, the problems that you have with Din feel minute, the sun isn’t too hot today and there is a nice breeze coming from the city that seems to temper the weather.

Din watches you from the shadows. He feels guilty for watching you but he can’t help it. He groans softly, reaching down to squeeze himself through his flight suit, his eyes drinking in your form as you relax.

The steam rises around you and it strikes you that this is a really romantic spot. It would be very sensual and you decide to push off the wall and submerge yourself completely, going under the water. Imagining being here with Din and having him naked in the water beside you.

When you get out of the spring, Din inhales sharply, and he loves the way the water slides along your skin as you stand up. He groans softly, squeezing his cock through his pants and he watches you, caught under your spell as you stand there naked and glistening under the sun.

You don’t want to get dressed again. You don’t want to go back into the little house where you don’t fit into any role. Instead, you sit on a stone on the edge of the hot springs and stretch out, letting the sun bake your skin dry.

Din knows he shouldn’t be watching you like this. He swallows harshly and closes his eyes, making his way back into the cabin, working fast to pull his aching cock out of his flight suit. He sits down on the edge of his bed and forgets to shut the door as he grips his cock and starts to pump himself.

The door closes and your eyes open, lifting your head to look around. “Din?” You ask, sitting up and standing quickly. If he is back home, you should go back in the house with your armor on, but you don’t. Quickly walking inside nude and calling his name again. “Din? Are you here, riduur?”

Din pants as he gathers the pre-cum from the tip of his cock, working his length as the sight of your figure burned into his retinas. He will never forget it. He groans and doesn’t notice you coming into the cabin, calling his name. His usually razor sharp senses are dulled by the pleasure and lust racing through his veins.

“Din?” You can hear him grunt in his room, pausing near his door. You shouldn’t go inside, you’ve never been in his room. Respecting his privacy - but what if he’s hurt? You bite your lip, reaching for the button to open the door and rush in as soon as the door slides open. “Din, are you-” You stop in shock, seeing him grip his cock. A thick, long cock that has you instantly dripping wet. “I-”

His eyes widen as you enter his room and he gasps your name under the helmet. “I- riduur. I didn’t - I’m sorry.” He lets go of his cock and starts to tuck himself away from your sight, you shake your head, moving fast to kneel before him and take his cock in your hand and then within seconds, you’re taking his cock into your mouth. “Dank Ferrik.” He hisses, “you don’t- you don’t have to do this.” He chokes out, not wanting you to do this if you feel obligated.

You swallow around him before you pull off with a small pop. “I want to, Maker, I want to.” You promise, squeezing the base of his cock as you look up at him with a lustful smile. “I’ve found you sexy from the first moment I saw you. Even in your old armor. I want to touch you.” You repeat before you duck your head again to take him deep into your mouth. Loving how thick he is and the way his vein throbs on your tongue.

He can’t argue, not when your lips are wrapping around his cock and taking him deeper. Maker, you’re gorgeous. Your eyes look up at him and he reaches out to caress your cheek with his gloved hand. “Riduur. You - fuck - your mouth.” He pants, refusing to close his eyes as you take him into your mouth.

You wish you could see his eyes. To mark how he looks when he cums rather than the expressionless visor. Instead of focusing on it, you decide you want to pull moans out of him. Swirling your tongue around the head and bobbing up and down until you are taking him deep into your throat and the fabric of his flight suit is against your nose.

“Fuck. Cyar’ika. I- shit. You’re so good. So good.” He rambles slightly as you take him deep enough to push him down your throat. “Fuck.” He chokes, unused to this. You are taking him without issue and it’s pushing him closer to orgasm quicker than he’d care to. “Riduur. You’re - I’m going to-” He grunts as he twitches in your mouth.

You want him to cum. Want him to spill down your throat to taste him. To milk him dry. You hum around his length and start swallowing, knowing that he will enjoy the pressure and buck into your mouth if he wants to be deeper.

He lets out something between a cry and a moan as he starts to cum. Spilling down your throat as you swallow around him and he clenches his fists beside his thighs as you work him dry. It’s more than he’s ever experienced and it’s intoxicating.

You don’t let up, not pulling off until he stops throbbing. Swallowing every gloriously salty drop of his release and listening to the laborious pants that slip from underneath his helmet. You slowly start to pull off his cock, humming as you rock back and look up at him innocently. “Good, riduur?”

Din gulps, trying to catch his breath as you look at him with wide eyes and he swears his heart is about to beat out of his chest. “Maker, riduur. I- fuck. You need to get on the bed. I want to touch you.” He says as he tucks his cock away and he reaches for his gloves, “I want to see how wet you are.”

You are thrilled that he wants to touch you. Watching him strip off his gloves as you move to the bed and spread out. There’s no shame as you spread your thighs to reveal your dripping cunt. You had leaked onto the floor when you were sucking his cock. “Dripping, riduur.”

He groans at the sight of your folds. Maker, you are beautiful. “Mesh’la.” He murmurs, reaching out to slide his fingers through your folds. Fuck, you are dripping. He groans and moves his fingers up to rub your clit.

You bite your lip, moaning in pleasure as your nipples hard in desire. Finally feeling your riduur touch you has your cunt throbbing. “Din.” You whimper, rolling your hips down, greedy for his touch. “Please, Riduur.”

He loves the way you moan his name. So sweet and so needy. He slides his fingers down to push two thick digits inside of you. He groans as your walls surround his fingers, wet and tight, and he imagines how you’d feel around his cock. “Fuck. You’re so wet.” He rasps, voice modulated but you can hear the lust.

“For you.” Your fingers dig into his flight suit as you hold onto him. Rocking your hips up and clenching down around him when he strikes something gorgeous inside. “Wet for you. I want- I want you to fill me.” You beg quietly. “I want to experience it- you. Your cock inside me.”

Din groans at the way you beg, "cyar'ika. I've never - you'd be the first. I don't want to disappoint you." He confesses as he works his fingers inside of you. "I've done this. That's it." He reveals, working his fingers and his thumb presses against your clit.

“I- I’ve never- you would be my first.” You remind him, whimpering and jerking your hips up to his touch. “I have no- no expectations. We would learn together.”

"Maker." He hisses as you reveal you're a virgin too. He had tried so hard to forget that. "You'll be mine. All mine." He growls and works his fingers a little faster. You are made for him. You are his riduur and that makes him feral.

“All yours.” You moan, tilting your head back and closing your eyes. “Fuck, Din, please. I- oh fuck.” You cry out when he pushes against that spot again and your entire body lights up. “It’s so good, please, cyar’ika.”

He wants to watch you fall apart around his digits. "That's it, mesh’la. Cum for me." He demands, pushing his fingers against that spot that makes you gush around him. "That's it baby. Cum for your riduur."

Whimpering, his words flash through you and make your body light up in pleasure. Pushing you over the edge and your walls clamp down around his fingers. Body shaking as you cry out.

Din groans as you soak his fingers, working you through it, and his cock is hardening again at the thought of you being his, completely his. Something switched in him when he saw you in that spring and his previous qualms and morality have gone out of the window. He’s spent too long alone and he wants you. He craves you.

Your whines finally give out to breathy pants and you close your eyes. Expecting your riduur to pull away now that you’ve both been satisfied. “Riduur…” you murmur quietly. “That was- was so good. Your fingers are so good.” You praise quietly.

"I want to taste you." Din declares, knowing he can remove his helmet in front of you as your riduur. He is nervous, hands shaking as his damp fingers unlock the seal of his helmet and your eyes carefully watch him as he removes the last barrier between you. He's still in full beskar but the helmet is his most precious protection against the galaxy - not just physically, but emotionally.

Your eyes widen when he actually lifts the helmet up. So sure that he would never break that barrier with you. Watching as a strong jaw, sharp now and soft brown eyes are revealed to you. “Maker.” You whimper softly. “My riduur is the most handsome man in the galaxy.”

Din blushes, actually blushes as his emotions are on clear display without his helmet. Unused to censoring his facial expressions. “Riduur. You don’t - we are already bound.” He mutters, setting his helmet down on the side.

“And I am lucky.” You smile, biting your lip at how demure he is being. It’s very appealing since he looks so intimidating with the helmet on. “Only I get to see you.”

His heart skips a beat in his chest, making it feel like he can hardly breathe as you look at him like he’s the only one in the galaxy. He swallows and nods, reaching out to caress your thighs. “Wanna taste you, cyar’ika.” He murmurs, shifting you down the bed until he’s lying between your spread thighs.

You know that he’s never tried something like this, so you nod. “Whatever you want, riduur.” You promise, Reaching down and running your fingers through his hair and scratching his scalp. He groans and you know it’s a good sound. You always want to scratch your head when your own helmet comes off.

He groans as he leans closer, breathing you in, and he tentatively slides his tongue through your folds. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s seen this in holovids he’s watched late at night but he’s never done it. The tangy taste makes him smack his lips and he does it again, sliding his tongue through your folds until he’s flicking your clit.

“Oh!” You gasp, shivering at the contact and you want to close your thighs together. You can’t because of the broad shoulders and armor between them. Looking down at him is the sexiest sight and your cunt bottoms out around nothing, making you fling your head back against his pillow. “Maker, oh fuck, how- it’s- keep going.” You beg.

Din doesn’t want to stop. The breathless cries coming from you have him ravenous. He doesn’t know what he’s doing so it’s sloppy and uncoordinated but what he lacks in skill, he makes up for with enthusiasm.

You love how eager he is, devoting himself to the task with a singular determination. “Din!” You cry out and roll your hips down to meet his eager tongue. “So good! Fuck, you’re so good.”

He groans at your praise, sliding his tongue through your folds again until he sucks your clit into his mouth. His hands squeeze your flesh, pushing your legs back so he can access more of your flesh.

You keen at the way he devours you. Completely gorging himself and not being shy about it. Greedily sucking and licking at you like it’s his only task. “Oh fuck, right there!” You gasp out.

He follows your gasped demand, repeating the motion that makes your thighs tighten around his head and his cock is aching against his flight suit. He grinds into the bed as you thrash and he throws his armored arm across your stomach to keep you still

It doesn't take you long, just a few more minutes of his tongue swiping through your folds, until you are flying. Crying out a loud "Din!" before your entire body locks up and you clench down on his fingers to soak them with your release.

Din groans as you clench around on his fingers and he sucks on your clit until you’re pushing his face away from you. He kisses your mound and rests his chin there, mustache glistening with your cum as he offers you a small smile.

“I can’t- that was so good.” You admit breathlessly. “I could be addicted to that, to you.” You admit, reaching down and caressing his cheek. He flinches but doesn’t pull away, leaning into your hand and letting you touch him. “I want you to claim me.” You tell him. “Make me your riduur completely. Let me give you what no one else has experienced.”

Din nods, shifting off of the bed to work on removing his armor. If you are to be his, he will reveal all of himself to you. He swallows harshly as nerves threaten to grip him and he works methodically to remove the beskar until he is shrugging out of his flight suit.

“Mesh’la.” You whisper, looking at the scars and imperfect skin that makes up the body of your riduur. A warrior who has survived every battle he has faced. He is a Mandalorian, and you are proud to be his. “Come to me.” You beg him.

He can’t deny you. Shifting onto his hands and knees, he crawls over your body and leans down to caress your waist, his hand grabbing your tit as he leans down to kiss you for the first time. The first time he’s kissed anyone. It’s messy and he hits your nose with his at first. “Sorry.” He murmurs, feeling unsure.

You giggle and cup both of his cheeks with your hands, cradling them and try again. “It’s okay.” You promise, moaning softly when his lips land like they are supposed to on yours. Closing your eyes and sinking into the sensation. You love it, could live with his lips pressed to yours.

Din groans, pecking your lips several times, and he slides his hand along your leg, "tell me if it hurts." He murmurs, unsure and lacking confidence as he grips his cock and squeezes, positioning himself at your entrance. "Are you ready for me, riduur?" He asks softly, nudging his nose against your jaw.

“Yes, Din.” You moan softly. “I am ready for you.” It’s on the tip of your tongue to tell him that you’ve been waiting for him your entire life. You don’t think that he would believe you, but you have been waiting for him and now that he’s here, you are eager to have him inside you.

He nods, shifting closer and he locks eyes with you as he starts to push into you. This moment - it’s one that Din never imagined having. Naked in bed with his riduur. It’s almost enough to make him cum. He groans as he pushes into your tight, wet heat and he swears he sees stars.

You whimper, the thick length of him stretching you out in ways that you could have never imagined. So much bigger than the fingers you had earlier, your eyes roll back. You can feel his body tense and from your training, you know that he will cum before you do. “So good.” you coo, caressing his back. “Move, riduur, please.”

He grunts, clenching his jaw to control himself as he starts to move inside of you. You’re his dream. The woman he’s always imagined when he jerked his cock was faceless but now he knows who she is. It’s you. You belong to him. He groans and leans down to kiss your neck, biting down on the flesh like he’s wanted to do since he saw your face as he starts to move inside of you.

Whining, you can’t help but tighten down around him. Loving how he had sunk his teeth into your skin. “Din!” You cry out, holding onto him desperately while your entire body rocks up on the bed.

He loves the way you moan his name, rocking into you over and over and it’s too much. “I - fuck. Mesh’la. I- Maker.” He pants and grunts as he pushes his cock deep inside of you and within seconds he’s painting your walls with his hot seed.

You moan, loving how hot it feels inside you. How full you feel as you roll your hips down. You caress his back and sigh happily, kissing along his shoulder as he rides out his pleasure.

Din groans at the way you take all of him. "Fuck." He pants, coming to a stop as his cock twitches inside of you, turning his head to press his lips to yours. "Riduur." He murmurs, "thank you."

Din gathers his senses and his eyes widen as he looks down at you, “I- riduur. You didn’t - I’ve failed you.” He chokes, feeling guilty and he doesn’t know how to handle the fact that he took your innocence and you never got to climax from it.

Frowning, you shake your head, unsure of what he means. “Failed me?” You huff. “You didn’t- I didn’t make you cum.” Din chokes out and you are astonished. “Riduur, I will not cum every time we have sex. I know that. It’s okay. You made me cum before and it was better than any pleasure I’ve ever had in training.”

Din frowns, carefully pulling out of you and he looks at you as you offer him a doe eyed look that has his stomach twisting with confusion and guilt. “Training? As in - as in fighting?” He asks, his brow furrowed and he’s not used to his emotions being on full display.

You tile your head in confusion, sure that he was aware of what was involved in your training. “I was trained in fighting when I was younger, but I am talking about the training for pleasure.” You correct him.

Din’s eyes widen and he shuffles away from you in shock. “Plea-pleasure? But I thought - you said you were-” His brow furrows once more, “you said you were a virgin and I- shit. I’m confused.”

“I was.” Sitting up, you ignore your nudity and look into his eyes. “While in training, since I could remove my helmet, oral sex was the focus of my lessons.” You explain. “No one was allowed to penetrate me. Not even fingering me. They could rub my clit, but most just wanted their own release.” You smile at him. “You are not a selfish partner.”

Din doesn’t know how to feel. You’ve been trained to be his riduur, even trained to please him sexually. He feels sick. Not because of you, but because of what you’ve been through. For him. Because of him. “You- oral sex? With who?” He asks, unsure of what to do other than ask questions.

You shrug casually, swinging your feet over the edge of the bed and standing. You need to clean up since his cum is starting to drip out of you. “Whoever came into the training rooms.” You say simply. “Sometimes the armorer would turn away some, but there was always someone willing to let me train with them.”

He feels violated on your behalf. The armorer essentially forcing you to train in oral sex for his pleasure. “Maker.” Din shuffles off of the bed, immediately reaching for his flight suit to pull it on. “Because of me. You went through that because of me.” He chokes and stumbles out of the room.

You frown as he rushes out of the room, wondering why he is so upset that you would be trained. Cleaning up quickly, you realize you are in his room and have none of your clothes so you walk out to find your riduur.

Din is panicking. He’s just taken your innocence, given you his, and he’s found out that you were trained to be his by members of the covert. Men he knows. Men who would know you. He is fuming at the thought of those men knowing what his riduur is like, what her body looks like. He stalks through the cabin back to his room to find you gone and he takes his Beskar to put it back on.

Upset that he has left, you put your armor back on. Wanting the comfort of the physical shielding between you. It’s like you’ve been rejected all over again and it’s even more painful now that you know what he looks like, what he feels like.

Din doesn’t know how to handle the knowledge, deciding to take his blaster outside to do some target practice before he picks up the kid. Not that he needs target practice but it will take his mind off of things.

Waiting is the worst part. Sitting around and not knowing what is happening. You hear blaster fire in the distance and sigh. Deciding to send a message to the armorer, hoping she will know what to do.

Din tries to process what just happened. He had sex with his riduur who has been groomed to be his. It makes him sick. You’re a beautiful woman, inside and out, and if he’d known you in the covert, he would’ve liked you naturally, but to know you’ve been raised to be his has him on edge. Grogu senses it when Din picks him up and when the duo arrive back at the cabin, Grogu toddles over to you and coos.

“Hey.” You choke out the word, grateful for your helmet so you don’t show your tear stained face. Bending down, you pick up the little one. His presence and obvious adoration makes you feel a bit better and you concentrate on that instead of the man behind him. “How was your day?”

Grogu coos again, lifting his hand up to press to your helmet, showing you his day including Din picking him up and bringing him home. He had picked up the distress in his father and Din is just as tense now as he watches you and Grogu interact.

You manage to grin, bolstered by the child’s antics, including sneaking a cookie from another kid and you chuckle. “You had a good day then.” You hum. “Do you want to go chase frogs while I make you some dinner?” You aren’t asking Din if you can, knowing he would have some objection to it.

Grogu waddles off after you set him down and Din calls after him, "don't go too far." He is glad Grogu keeps the door open so he can keep an eye on him and he sighs as he turns towards you. "So...how was your day?" He asks, knowing that he took your innocence today but he's trying to make some kind of conversation.

You don’t look at him, but your visor is turned towards him. Instead of answering him, you just turn and walk towards the galley kitchen to start making a meal for the young foundling. He had been upset by your training, so you don’t think that having a conversation is a good idea.

Din suppresses the sigh that works its way up his throat and he heads outside to sit down on the porch to watch Grogu chase the frogs, floating them up in the air. “Don’t torture them, kid.” He shouts out and Grogu trills as he lets the frog drop into the water. Din fiddles with the edge of his beskar, unsure of what to say to you. It’s him, he’s the one who has made this awkward and he doesn’t regret that. He doesn’t know if you’re doing this out of obligation and duty. He doesn’t want you to want him because of duty or creed.

You move around the kitchen quietly, heartbroken that Din doesn’t want you anymore. You had done everything that you had been taught. Tried to please him and be the partner, the riduur, that he deserved. And still he doesn’t want you. The armorer told you that no one could come for another three weeks. Until then, you are stuck on Nevarro, with a man who doesn’t want you.

****

It's been four weeks since you arrived on Nevarro and Din has kept his distance, sleeping in his own bed, and he hasn't touched you. You've mainly avoided him, taking over caring for Grogu and spending time in your room. He feels guilty, for you being bound to him and him not fulfilling his duty as your riduur but how can he when you were trained to be his? Groomed to be his? It's too much to handle and he has kept away.

Today is the day. The armorer sent you a halo message, telling you that Kledo, another mandalorian from the new covert on Mandalore, will be here by the time the sun is setting. After Din leaves to take Grogu to school, you pull out your bags to start packing your things. Over the week before you had slept with Din, you had spread your things out, so now you methodically pack them away.

Din drops Grogu off and comes back to the cabin, entering with a sigh as he expects to see you in the kitchen preparing lunch but you’re not there. He calls out your name, frowning under the helmet. He calls your name again, a little more frantic, and he rushes through the cabin to try and find you. He enters your room and finds it empty of your things. “Dank Ferrik.” He curses, grabbing his blaster and he tries to figure out if you've gone to the transporter station. He makes his way there and looks around, trying to find you but you’re gone.

When you break atmo, you start to cry under your helmet. Silent tears that stream down your cheek and gather at your chin. Dripping down onto the fabric of your flight suit and absorbed into the fabric. If Kledo had questions about why he was picking up Din Djarin’s riduur and bringing her to Mandalore, he never voices them, just concentrates on your trip there.

Din interrogates the ticket staff who tell him no Mandalorians have come through the ticket hall and he growls, stalking off to the cabin and he immediately calls the Armorer. "Din Djarin." Her cool voice makes him vibrate with annoyance. "Where is my riduur?" He demands and she shakes her helmet, "you rejected her. She is returning to the covert with Kledo." She declares and Din doesn't waste another second. He hangs up and rushes to the school to collect Grogu, getting into his ship to make his way to a place he swore he'd never return to: Mandalore.

You sleep for most of the journey, after you cry yourself out. Waking when you feel the engines change, approaching Mandalore. “We are here.” Kledo tells you, preparing for landing. “The armorer is waiting for you.”

"You've returned." The Armorer declares as you enter the welding room. She stands tall and you shrink into yourself. "You failed. You have failed your mission as a riduur to the Mandalor." She says without sympathy.

“Yes.” You swallow under your helmet and try not to cry. “Din Djarin rejected me, but not before taking my innocence. I was not good enough.” You tell her. “I have come to ask that you break the riduurok. He should not be bound to someone who is dar’manda.”

The Armorer shakes her head, "you have failed and he has not succeeded in getting you with child?" She asks, wanting to confirm this before you are made dar'manda.

“I-“ you frown slightly, faltering because you don’t know if he had planted his seed in your womb. “I have not bled.” You admit quietly, “but it has only been three weeks since I shared his bed.”

"You will not be dar'manda until we confirm. If you are indeed pregnant, you shall remain with the covert until you give birth...then you will be sent away. The babe would remain." She declares and you nod, despite screaming inside. Din has never traveled faster in his life through the galaxy until he is landing on Mandalore. Many of his kin greet him by bowing their helmets but he doesn't pay attention, rushing into the lower sects of the covert to find you.

Your hands shake as you start to strip your armor and flight suit. Feeling shame for the first time as the armorer had ordered you to prepare to be examined. You have become used to being covered in your time with Din, feeling exposed as you reveal your skin and sink down to your knees to await the covert doctor with nothing but your helmet on.

Din is rushing through the halls, demanding to know where you are. His heart pounding as Grogu swings from the satchel he’s in at Din’s side. Din pushes people out of the way, some shouting at his back as he rushes through the halls to find you and eventually, he discovers you and the Armorer in her quarters. “Riduur.” He rushes over to you, your helmet on and your body covered in a blanket. “What is going on here?” He demands to know.

The Armorer looks at Din and then back down at the piece of steel she was crafting into a cuff. “We are waiting to see if she will be dar’manda now,” She intones. “Or if carrying your child will delay her exile.” Your head lowers even further, shamed that you have failed and unsure why Din is here, unless it is to demand the shuk’la riduurok himself.

Din's eyes widen beneath the helmet, horrified at what you are going through and all because of him. "Is this necessary?" He demands and the Armorer nods, "this will be the next leader of Mandalore, we need to see if she is with child." Din shakes his head, "with an audience?" He hisses as you are naked and he wants to cover your body with his. "This is the way." The Armorer declares and Din's upper lip curls in disgust even if no one can see it. "She will not be dar'manda."

There is a hushed silence and your head lifts slightly. “Then you claim her as your riduur?” The Armorer asks loudly, and there is shuffling behind you, other mandalorians filing into the chamber to witness your shame. “She is under the impression that you wish to break your riduurok. That you regret taking her innocence.”

Din is horrified, shaking his helmet. “I do not regret taking her innocence because of her. I regret - she was groomed. Forced to be what I need and I- she should have freedom of choice. To not be forced to be my riduur because she’s been trained to be so. To find out she has given oral sex to most of the men here…she’s been violated and I feel guilty that I was the cause.” He confesses, “it’s my fault.”

“How is this your fault?” The Armorer tilts her head curiously. “This is her path, she could have chosen not to walk it.” She informs him. “She chose to take the oath and to train, it is just as honorable as the path you have walked.”

Din stutters, “she didn’t - I didn’t ask for my riduur to be trained for me. She deserves freedom of choice. To be allowed to be who she is and love who she wants. She - I don’t want a riduur who is ordered to want me. I want her to want me because she wants me.” He explains, his hands sweaty in his gloves.

“She does love you.” The Armorer tells Din, motioning to you as you kneel on the ground in front of her forge. “If she did not, she would have stayed. Keeping you bound to vows you didn’t not wish.” There is a smug sense of rightness in her tone and you wonder if you are so obvious in your motives. “Shuk’la riduurok would not affect you. You would continue to be as you have always been.” She tilts her head and hums. “Perhaps you have your heart on the line as well, because why are you here, Din Djarin? If not to fight for your riduur.”

Din rears back as the emotional impact of the past month hits him. He is here to fight for you, the same way he'd fight for anyone he loves. He fights for the people that mean the most to him and suddenly that includes you. Between the distance and the closest he's ever been with another, blurred in those lines, Din Djarin has fallen in love with you. He swallows harshly, "I am here to claim my riduur...and my ad...if that is the situation." He adds and Grogu coos from his satchel, gesturing to you.

Your helmet slowly lifts, shocked to hear that coming out of Din’s mouth and you swear you are imagining things. He wants to claim you? “You claim your riduur?” The Armorer demands once more, finishing with your name. “I do.” Din nods, untwisting his cape from around his cowl and draping it over your shoulders to cover your body. “She is mine by vow and creed.” He adds.

Your helmet tilts up towards his and he shifts to kneel, Grogu jumping out of his satchel and Din leans in to press his helmet to yours. “She is mine and I am hers.” He promises and the Armorer nods. “Very well. Let us see if she is with Ad.” She demands and Din shakes his head. “No. Not like this. Let me take her to her room and we will find out in private.” He says and helps you stand up with his cloak still wrapped around you.

Still in shock that he’s here, you let Din lead you out of the forge room and off to a secluded hall. “Din?” You whisper, reaching out to touch his cloak, wondering if you are imagining this. If you are living inside a little fantasy. “Are you- you claimed me?”

Din doesn’t answer you as he looks down the hall, Grogu following his steps. “Where is your room here, cyar’ika?” He asks, wanting to get you somewhere private before he talks to you.

Your heart sinks, sure that he is just getting you alone so that he can reject you. Keep it private and publicly have the illusion of claiming you. “Through here.” You motion down the hall to a door next to the training room.

Din swallows harshly, guiding you into the room and Grogu follows at your feet. Once you're inside, he takes a breath and turns to face you. "Why did you leave?" He demands, wanting to know why you left him without even saying goodbye.

“You did not want me there.” You remind him. “You left me after- after we had sex.” You pull the edges of the cape around you and bite your lip under the helmet. “I did what was needed to give you back your freedom.” Shaking your head, you shrug. “What else was I supposed to do?”

Din's stomach twists, guilty for being so scared that he ran as soon as he touched you. For ignoring you after the event until today. "I- riduur. I have been alone my entire life until Grogu came along. He was my only purpose and I never imagined finding someone. I accepted being alone and then you came along and you - you changed everything. You took care of us - of me. You loved me. It was more than I could handle especially when you were doing it because you were groomed to be mine. I hate that you never had a choice."

“I did have a choice.” You tilt your head and frown under your helmet. “I - Din…the Armorer told me who I would be joined with if I took the Creed.” You explain. Maybe you had messed up by not clarifying before. “She had already chosen you to be the next leader of our covert after her. I knew this. I want this, I wanted you.” You bite your lip. “You were the one who didn’t have a choice, I guess.”

Din shakes his head, "maybe I didn't have a choice but I do now and I- I claim you, riduur. I want you. I - I love you. If you want me, I am yours. If you want me to leave, I will go. I won't force you. You pick your path, you choose your destiny."

Letting go of the cape, you reach up and unlock your helmet. Slipping it off your head so you can look your riduur in his eyes. “I want to go back to Nevarro with you.” You confess softly. “If I am not carrying your ad, I would like to. Soon. I want to raise warriors with you. Not just because of my creed but because I want to have children with my riduur.”

Din looks into those beautiful eyes and doesn’t hesitate to reach up to remove his own helmet, setting it down before he cups your cheeks so he can look into your eyes without the visor. “Mesh’la. I want you to come home with me.” He declares, leaning in to kiss you softly.

Your lips melt against his and you sigh in relief. Tears started pouring out of your eyes again even though you had sworn you couldn’t cry anymore. “I want to come home with you.”

He caresses your cheek and rests his forehead against yours, “good. Let’s go home, riduur.” He is so pleased that you want to be with him. “Are you- do you want to find out if you’re carrying our ad?”

As if to answer his question, there is a knock on the door to your room. “That would be the covert doctor.” You tell Din. “You should put your helmet back on.”

Din nods, placing the helmet back on his head. Just because he loves you, doesn’t mean his habits will die. He locks the latches just as the doctor comes in and Din stands straighter, suddenly defensive of you.

“I hear you might be expecting.” The tone of the mandalorian doctor is chipper and you’ve always liked her. The chipper purple armor of her Beskar makes you smile. “I am hoping you can tell us that.” You admit, gesturing to Din. “My riduur.”

Din nods, his stomach twisting with nerves as the doctor pulls out the holopad and what looks like a scanner from her satchel. “Din Djarin.” Din introduces himself and the doctor nods, “Mand’alor.” She bows her head in respect and Din shakes his head, “please. Just Din.”

You bite your lip, knowing that it’s futile to argue that while most of the Mandalorians follow Bo-Katan, they view Din as the real Mand’alor. Even Bo has wished Din would come back to the planet to help her lead. “Will you be able to tell? It’s only been three weeks.”

“We have advantaged technology to be able to tell.” She promises, “please lay down.” She says and you shift to lay down on the bed. Din follows, hovering over you and the doctor asks you to remove your cloak, “just so we can get close enough.” She explains and Din is tense as she pushes buttons on the holopad before the scanner whooshes to life and she hovers it over your lower stomach.

You reach for Din’s hand, hoping that will help him relax. You are used to the doctor, so you are comfortable with her and bite your lip as you look for any indication from the doctor’s helmet. She hums and moves it around, making you shiver at the slightly energetic feel of the scanner above your skin.

Din squeezes your hand, anxious and feeling a little nauseous until the doctor smiles, pointing out the small dot on the screen. “There they are. It’s - it’s very early but you are with ad.” She declares and Din inhales sharply. He’s terrified. He’s nervous but he’s happy. So happy. “Our ad.” He murmurs, a little in shock.

“Our ad.” You repeat in wonder, feeling more tears welling up in your eyes. “We are going to be buirs.” You whimper, squeezing his hand. “The very first time you touched me.”

Din leans in to press his forehead against yours, wishing you could see the wonder on his face, but that will have to wait for later. Grogu coos and Din turns to look at him. "Big brother." Din tells his foundling who straightens up as if ready to take on the role.

You choke out a happy giggle when you see the little foundling’s happy stance and look back at Din. Reaching up to caress his helmet. “I want to go home, riduur.” You tell him quietly. “Tomorrow. For now….i want to rest and celebrate.” Your eyes widen as you realize what this pregnancy means. “The first child born after retaking Mandalore.”

Din smiles under his helmet, “our first child.” He says and rests his forehead against yours. A Mandalorian you know, Ele, comes in about ten minutes later after the doctor leaves to ask if you want anything to eat or drink. “She will eat. And so must Grogu.” Din says and Ele nods, “I will take him for food and will bring him back with some for you. I am certain you wish to celebrate the news.” She says and your eyes widen at the fact that the news has spread so fast. Din hesitates, anxious to be separated from the kid but you know this woman so he will trust her. Grogu coos as he is willingly escorted to where the food is and Din wastes no time unlatching his helmet, throwing it down so he can lean in to press his lips to yours.

“We are having a baby.” You whisper against his lips, giggling. “I cannot believe it.” You are amazed that it happened so quickly. His seed is potent apparently.

Din nudges his nose against yours and kisses your forehead. “We are having a baby.” He murmurs, grinning as his hand caresses your stomach. “I love you, riduur.” He murmurs, “want to show you.”

“You do?” Your brows lift in surprise and you bite your lip. “How? How do you want to show me?” You don’t want to assume that he wants to touch you, although you have been told that men love to show their affection through sex.

Din slides his hand a little lower until he’s cupping your bare cunt, “I want to make you cum. I want to cum inside of you.” He murmurs, “claim you again. I want - I want you to ride me. Ride your riduur.” He murmurs, kissing along your neck.

You whimper quietly and tilt your head. This is a very different side of your riduur than you’ve previously experienced and you like it. “Ride you? You’ve imagined that?”

“Yes.” He confesses, his hand sliding lower until his fingers slide between your bare folds. “I want you to take your pleasure from me.” He murmurs, rubbing your clit with his fingers.

You moan softly, arching your hips up to his touch. “You will pleasure me.” You decide with a groan. “Strip your armor off, riduur.”

He nods, pulling his hand away from you to work diligently to remove his beskar until he’s in his flight suit. “I’ll look after you, riduur.” He promises and moves to remove the flight suit, his hard cock bouncing as he kicks it aside after removing his boots.

“You are- excited….” You murmur, sitting up and reaching out to wrap your hand around his hard cock. “What has you so worked up, riduur? Do you like your baby in my belly?”

He nods, a grunt escaping his lips. He never imagined he'd be so turned on by the idea of you round with his ad but he is. He pants when you start to pump him and he leans in to press his lips to yours, "yes, mesh'la."

“Then lay down.” You order softly. “I’ll show you how you planted your ad in me by riding your cock until you fill me up again.” You squeeze him gently before you let him go.

He groans and nods, quickly shifting to lay down on the bed beside you and his hands caressing your sides as you shift to straddle him. “Mesh’la riduur. My riduur.” He murmurs, proud of his claim over you. His hands slide up to gently squeeze your tits.

You moan quietly, closing your eyes as you shift to letting him lay down. Straddling his waist and grinding down onto his hard cock.

Din groans as you grind onto him. “That’s it baby. Keep - keep going. Want you to fuck me.” He murmurs, his dark eyes flicking up towards you. “Take what you need, cyar’ika.” He tells you, wanting you to be pleasured.

It’s different, keeping the control instead of giving it up to your riduur. It might be intoxicating because of how much it turns you on. Having your riduur submit to you and want you to take your pleasure from him. Reaching down, you line up with his thick length and slowly sink down onto him with a moan of his name.

Din watches you in rapture as you take his cock inside of you. He’s groaning your name and watching his length disappear inside of you. “You’re so right, mesh’la.” He murmurs, his eyes flicking up towards you and he reaches up to caress your cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you too, riduur.” You whisper back, leaning over once he’s fully seated inside you and kissing him softly. Gazing into his eyes and watching him with wonder. He's here, he’s claiming you and you’re going to have his ad.

His hands slide down to caress your body, taking in your beauty and he loves you. “You’re mine. I will protect you with my life.” He promises, thrusting up into you as you grind down onto him. “After this, we will return home.” He promises and you nod, “home.”

He wants to return to Nevarro with you. To have you in the little home he has on the edge of the desert. You have fallen in love with it, with him and his foundling. Even the strange friends he has with the people there. “I love you, riduur.” You promise, having to kiss him again and caresses his cheek softly. “My riduur.”

Din smiles against your lips and he slides his hands along your back. “Baby, you - you are so good to me.” He murmurs against your chin and he kisses along your jaw. “My riduur.” He sighs, his hands sliding down to your hips and he helps you rock on his cock.

This time is just as sweet as the first. Just as awe inspiring. Even if you are slightly stiff as you find what position is best for you to ride him. Finding that you love it when you are pressed against his chest most of all.

He caresses your back and down to your ass, squeezing and smacking your cheeks playfully to get you to move on his cock. “That’s it baby. Ride my cock. Wanna feel you cum.” He says, groaning at the new position. It’s more than he could ever imagine. He’s clenching his jaw to try to hold off his orgasm, wanting you to cum for him.

“Rub my- oh rub my clit.” You beg, grabbing his hand and moving it between you to the sensitive little bundle of nerves. “Oh fuck, Din.” You hiss when he presses and starts to quickly rub tight circles.

He follows your order, rubbing your clit a little faster and he loves the way you flutter around his cock. “That’s it, riduur. Maker, your cunt is so tight.” He groans and thrusts up into you, his feet flat on the bed and you’re pushed up his body as he works to make you cum.

Your chants of his name start to get loud, filtering out of your room and you know that anyone nearby would hear it. Making you gasp as you realize everyone in the covert, everyone on Mandalore would know that you are his. It throws you over the edge and you cry out in pleasure when your cunt clamps down on his cock.

He loved the way you cry out. It’s intoxicating and he knows that you are going to keep him on his toes. His eyes squeeze shut as you clamp down around his cock and he leans in to press his lips to yours, smothering the rest of the cry of his name and he squeezes your hips. “Baby. I- I’m going to - shit.” He hisses, “I’m going to cum.” He chokes and thrusts up into you three more times before he twitches inside of you, filling you with his hot seed.

Your eyes close and you smile as you lean down to burrow your face into his neck. “Fuck, that feels so good.” You whimper. “I hope you want many ads. Because I feel like you are going to keep me pregnant.”

Din chuckles, “we have nine months to make you feel good while you grow this one.” He says as he caresses your back. “Then we will make another. And another. And another.” He says as he kisses your neck over and over. “I love you, riduur. We were made for each other.” He murmurs, leaning back so he can cup your cheek. “Now, let’s get dressed and get you home.”

You reluctantly pull off his cock, dressing in the clothes that had somehow been brought back to your room after being stripped in the forge room. Reaching for your helmet and turning to look at your riduur one more time before his own helmet goes back on. “Let’s go home, Din.”

After you both redress, Din finds Grogu and escorts you to the dock where his ship awaits. The Armorer stands there, hands behind her back. “You will be back Mand’alor. The covert needs you. We shall see you when you are ready to return.” She says and Din stares at her for a second before he nods. After settling his family in the ship, he gets in and begins the journey to Nevarro. He isn’t sure what the future holds, if he is going to return to Mandalore. One thing is for certain, he will be spending his days with his riduur, raised his ads, his foundling, and he will protect them with his life. That is his creed. This is the way.

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super-lovely-star · 10 months ago

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Summer/Hot Weather Things for Middle Regressors and Dreamers

Make some lemonade and freeze it in molds to make lemonade popsicles. These are super tasty and refreshing after a long hot day!

Water gun or nerf blaster battles with friends. If you’re using nerf or another toy that shoots foam darts, remember to protect your eyes with goggles.

Temporary glitter tattoos! You can get them done at some boardwalks or you can buy a kit online.

Body glitter, now that it’s tank top weather! I bought some at claire’s and it smells like strawberries :D

Just chilling outside in the evenings now that the days are longer. Bring a plushie with you and enjoy the nice weather.

Once it gets dark, you can play games like flashlight tag!

Thrifting summer clothes can be fun and affordable!

Dressing up dolls in summer clothes and swimsuits, or pinning flower hair clips to your plushies’ ears.

Summer playlists! I have to admit I always tell myself I’m going to make one and then forget, but remembering will be worth it.

If you have someone to drive you, take a summer day trip to somewhere you don’t usually go. Now’s a good time for that summer playlist.

Friendship bracelets! You can make kandi, rainbow loom, or traditional woven bracelets and give them to the people close to you.

On that note, miniature friendship bracelets or collars for your plushies.

Make a summer bucket list of all the fun things you want to do this summer, and check them off as you complete them!

Last but not least, remember to wear your sunscreen!

Make sure to keep cool and stay hydrated <3

#sfw middle regression #middle regression #sfw agere #agere #agere blog #sfw agedre #agedre #age regression #sfw age regression #agere activities #agere tips #agere textpost #summer #hot weather #list #you guys seem to really dig these so Ill keep em coming!#tw flashing

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keferon · 3 months ago

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You all flatter me! Now I am all pumped up to continue on the TF mecha au train. Ratchlock has me in a chokehold. You can't compliment me like that, It goes to my head! I haven't writen anything in like 12 years 😭. Also Yes yes to all the angst. I thrive on it more then the fluffy moments. Jazz and Deadlock/Drift are lining up nicely for a possible meeting. But first Deadlock WILL bath in blood! Wanna see?

****

Ratchet will not let Deadlock follow him around. Nope. Instead he keeps Deadlock on strict bed rest /he's learning human terms in his free time/ with the oh so sweet promise to weld him to the wall if he doesn't listen. He knows better to not test Ratchet, he'd do it no hesitation. Deadlocks fangs and claws only cause a raised eyebrow and wave of a slipper near well... anywhere in Ratchet's swating or throwing range. Since both of them honor their word/glyphic, they made a deal that if Ratchet comes home on time then in return Deadlock will be on his best behavior.

They use every extra moment together to learn, heal, and plot together. Deadlock's wounds are fully healed by now. He is ready to be the guardian knight he vowed to be for Ratchet. Ratchet's knuckles still ache which makes his hands shaky at times, especially when cold, but his squishy perseveres like a true warrior. Deadlock has learned that revving his engine to build up heat and letting Ratchet rest against his chassis helps with those trimmering aches the bioengineer tries to rub out.

He wants to give any comfort he can to Ratchet while he's working in that cursed lab with those ungreatful sacks of slags. He has photos of each one of those fraggers saved in his proccesor. The list only grows the longer they wait to leave. If he can work around Ratchet somehow, he'll cross them off at some point with a deep satisfaction while doing it. Ratchet has been as sly as a turbofox. He's been sidestepping, talking around, and out ranting the higher ups for a while. Deadlock is so proud of him for not backing down or falling silent. Right now Deadlock has the tv playing a sitcom while tinkering with his long range blaster. His audial fins flick as the door opens and closes. Ratchet looks at the show while shrugs his winter coat off, "So has Sam confessed his undying love to the ice cream vender Carly yet?" Ratchet asks walking over to the lazy-e-boy chair.

Deadlock reaches out and taps his back before he can sit down. "Refuel first." He reminds him before going back to tightening some wires. He smiles at the grumble and is pleased when Ratchet listens to him for once and heads to the kitchen, "and no the episode ended with him getting hit by a waste disposal truck. Now it's a filler episode. Jack is trying to get out of going to an Amica Endura's beach party. He is playing up a illness called the pox."

Ratchet comes back with a warm plate of food. Deadlock nods pleased with the portion. Ratchet rolls his eyes and sits down, "They did that same plot with Raphael four seasons ago." He grumbles and bats at Deadlocks claw when he tries to ruffle his hair, "If they drag this out for three episodes like last time I am popping in a different show." Both are content, they banter and complain about the show while Ratchet eats. When Ratchet reclines his lazy-e-boy chair Deadlock puts his weapon away, "They are transferring some of us to a different base in the morning. You know First Aid. They are putting him on a transport to the sister base north east of here. Called the Alpha Blade Strikers."

Deadlock tilts his helm, "That's the one that was visiting here? The commander of that base is the one you knocked out for slagging you off right? You mentioned the base being cursed." He asks leaning forward a bit, his servos tingling for revenge.

"Yes, same place and person. Don't believe in any of that cursed stuff but a lot of talk does go around about it. Mostly one pacific mecha being the main cursed object. First Aid was stressed to tears about being transferred. He had just gotten comfortable here with his friends. I feel a bit bad for the kid." Ratchet mumbles rubbing his face with his unbandged hand.

Deadlock gives a soft smile, "From what you've told me, he keeps his helm down. I am sure he will find friends or leave when he can. But if you are worried I am not opposed to taking him with us."

"We do not kidnap people, Drift. He wouldn't want to come along anyways. He wants to 'do his part for human kind'. Besides it takes him a while to get use to change and the possibility that we may be hunted down once we leave would most likely send him into cardiac arrest." Ratchet tilts his head back gives Deadlock a stern look, "On the topic of leaving we'll need to do that sooner then planned. Something isn't right, I don't like how hyper focused Pharma has gotten with quintessons corpses. Now he is showing intrest in you. He wants to know how I programmed a mecha to be powered by an AI system so flawlessly. It's driving him up a wall to not know. You know, since a mecha has never moved around without a pilot and can not talk. He keeps begging the higher ups to let him 'partner up with me' or let him take over the 'project' since I am just 'playing around with you'."

"Right fine. No kidnapping the youngling. But do not assume we will be the ones being hunted." Deadlock hums amused but turns serious when Pharma is brought up. That name is at the top of his 'don't let Ratchet catch on' splat list, "But me being 'imprinted' on you is keeping them from letting him get his quintessons gut covered servos... Err hands sorry, on me."

Ratchet nods rubbing his face again with a tired sigh, "I made certain they know you'll attack anything that isn't me." Deadlock can tell Ratchet is fighting a yawn. He lays down behind the chair and rumbles his engine. Ratchet's lips twitch with a smile hearing how smooth it's running now, "Pharma has never been a good listener though. Just be on guard okay kid... he's ploting something." Ratchet mumbles soaking up the heat coming from behind him. He tilts his head back against the head rest looking up at Deadlocks handsome, smug, sharp fanged grin, "He tries touching you, you can kill him. Don't let him into your system. I fear what he'd do. Probably make you even more loony and unbearable." The bioengineer yawns his voice full of fondness that makes Deadlock's spark sing.

Deadlock purrs as he gently pets Ratchet's head with a, claw retracted, digit. Ratchet's eyes grow heavy missing the most feral, down right demonic, energon hungry look Deadlock has at the permission to off Pharma, "He will not harm me. But I can tell he has worn on you today. You are more drained then grumpy, your insults are lacking any heat. Recharge Ratchet. I will reconfigure our supplies and time line while you regain your strenght. Then I'll show you in the morning. You can edit it while you fuel." He chuckles as Ratchet grumbles and mumbles at him. His squishy can't fight the cozy warmth and soothing pets. Deadlock's humming engine makes a familiar white noise that has grown to mean safe to Ratchet. In no time Ratchet is out cold. Picking up a blanket with a careful pinch he lays it on top of Ratchet and follows him into recharge.

-- --

They are so close to leaving. They have a place picked out and a time. Their supplies are packed and hidden away with a close friend of Ratchet's. The thing still keeping them on base is Ratchet's need to clear out all of his research. He doesn't want anyone to have anything of his, to have a chance to twist it into something that would cause more harm and death. It's been a tedious process but Ratchet has been deleting his work bit by bit so no one catches on.

Four days before their chosen leave date Ratchet walks into his lab only to be escorted to a debriefing room. One he has have never been to. Deep under the base. He had tried getting anyone to speak up about what's happening but the escorts, six of them for fuck sakes, don't even look at him. His gut instinct is screaming DANGER the deeper they go. His skin is crawling with uneasiness and he is fighting his fight then flight instincts. He taps at the small circler tracker he has in his winter coats collar as subtly as possible. Hoping it looks more like a nervious tick then a trigger to call for help. Hopfully they aren't to far down for it to work. The group stops at a vault door and Ratchet cuts off a growl growing in his throat when one of the 'escorts' pulls out some heavy duty cuffs. "Tell me what reason you have for those or their not going on Spike." He warns fists clenching at his side. He huffs at the click of a gun and someone has the balls to press it into his back.

The young soldier, Spike, frowns and waves his hand at the others behind Ratchet, "Ratchet please it's just procedure. You have saved a lot of our lives don't make us be rough. We don't want to be. Just put them on so I don't get yelled at later." Ratchet narrows his eyes, frown tightening. Spike groans, "I don't know what they want. No one told us anything. Please I am just doing what I was told."

Ratchet can tell Spike is holding his breath, pleading silently for Ratchet to listen. Ratchet does let a growl slip when the guns barrel grinds into his spine. His head snaps around and he glares hard enough to cause pause, "Cut that out, I know exactly how far to shove that to not kill you but make damn sure you wish I did." He snarls as he holds his wrists up to Spike. The comment earns him muffled chuckles and a few glares. Cuffs on Ratchet walks into the room. Spike shoots him an apologetic look as the door closes behind him. With a heavy exhale Ratchet takes in the room. A concrete floor, circular shaped room with thick metal walls. Cameras line the ceiling edges. His exhale catches in his throat as the metal walls start rolling up to reveal bullet proof glass filled with quintessons in various stages of dissection and tests. "We have another sublevel secret lab bellow our sublevel secret lab. Of course we do." Ratchet mumbles flatly to pissed off he didn't know this base was more fucked up then he thought then to be scared.

Speakers crackle on and an annoying whine comes through, "Not the reaction I was hoping for. Come on Ratch buddy show a bit more emotion then that. Less grump more begging maybe? At least shock." Pharma's voice chimes around him in an irritating way.

"Looks like all of this has been going on for a while. Why bring me into this now Pharma?" Ratchet says calmly since that seems to piss Pharma off more. He looks at his cuffed wrists and his blood runs cold as the hair on his neck stands on end. Goosebumps cover his arms making him shudder under the heavy coat, "I am not here for shop talk."

"Mmhmm, I am going to miss that snarky brain of yours Ratchy. But you did do a lot of things that put the base in danger. Security has taken notice of a lot of data, intel, cameras and video footage being tampered with." Pharma almost has a mocking sing songy tone to him. Strange, Ratchet knows he didn't tamper with anything that would jeopardized the security of the base. Definitely not the cameras or video footage, "You know what you've done and what we do to traitors. I already have received the ok to take over your work. The good commander is allowing me to say goodbye to you since we were such good old friends. Don't worry. I'll take good care of your Mecha." Yeah, Pharma sounds real choked up about all this, Ratchet rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, he'll take care of you Pharma." Ratchet keeps his tone and body language nonchalant as he studies the cuffs. He takes note of the little bit of gap, if he dislocates his thumbs.. "Only thing that's annoying about all of this is I'll be late getting home."

"I swear you are boring me to death on purpose Ratchet!!" Pharma snarls as a thud noise rings through the speakers

"Oh could I be so lucky?" Ratchet sighs sounding hopeful. He stiffens as the room lights turn red and multiple hisses of compressed air being released surrounds him. A robotic voice rings out a warning that the test subjects are being released. Ratchet whips his head around stepping in a circle as snarles and screeches drowned out the warnings. Ratchet steadies his breathing as best he can as his hands trimble and heart beats wildly. Deadlock would be livid if he doesn't go down giving it his all to get back to him. Ratchet would be just as pissed to, "I'll do what I can but you better hurry kid..."

-- --

"You weren't suppose to do that Pharma." A flat voice speaks up from behind Pharma after picking up the chair he had kicked away. Pharma scoffs and grumbles, "You are not even going to ask him what he ment by being late to his quarters?" The chief of security drones on.

"Be sure to capture all angles. I want detailed shots of it all." Pharma growls removings his hand from the release butten he hit hard enough to crack. "You are being paranoid per usual. Don't tell me you never heard the rammblings of a dying man?" Pharma sighs, with a dramatic flick of his wrist he walks out of the room.

"No, but I imagine I will soon enough." The security director mumbles under his breath. Reaching over the chair he resets the cameras.

OH. OH THEY ARE FUUUUUUCKED

OH THEY ARE SO SO INCREDIBLY FUCKED THEY ARE GONNA GET SPREAD EVENLY ALL OVER THE FLOOR AND I WANNA SEE IT SO B A D

#YEAS #YES PLEASE #ANON #ANON I LOVE YOU #Also Deadlock basically purring is just #kfmfnfjfjfmmfnfmfkfkfkfl #tf mecha universe #also Deadlock keeping track of Ratchets routine is so cute omg

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sam-out-of-energy · 3 months ago

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OKAY OKAY IM NO WRITER BUT

This AU has consumed me, ok ok slay

Again @keferon 's mecha pilot jazz au

I thought about prowl and jazz on earth and Prowl being captured by humans and yeah yeah okay okay SO IMAGINE

Jazz wasnt fast enough to realize what the others had done with prowl

Prowl frees himself, prowl escapes by himself because Jazz comes in just. Too. Late.

Thats what i wrote lmao-

Prowls optic flickered in a dim light. Well, the one he had left anyway. A gaping hole now where his left optic had been before, circuits and wires exposed and tangled in a human scientists pathetic attempt at gouging out Prowls eye.

TacNet had been screaming error in his audials for the past few kliks, a blur of scenarios in his processor and a whirr of his engine told him he wasnt dead. Not yet.

"-because with this technology, we will be able to not only improve our mechas, but to create our own army." A frustrating, squeaky voice came to Prowl once he regained his sense.

Technology. That was all he was to them, to Jazz. A machine.

The organic was boasting about their achievements, about how with this technology they would create the perfect self-thinking robot. Ha.

A loud crunch rang out in the hall. Then another. Prowl lifted himself to sit where he had once been pinned down by metal, now torn off and dropping to the floor with a loud clatter.

"What in the-"

The general, or any of his subordinates had barely any time to react as Prowl whipped around, slamming his arm into the scaffolding they stood upon and bringing it down in a moments notice.

"I am not-"

He tore himself out of the restraints, standing. His arm plate would shift and move to make way for a blaster. Prowl aimed it up at the suprised organics.

"-your technology."

_______

Jazz had been running around frantically. Where's prowl, where's prowl, he'd asked everyone. They'd all told him no clue.

No clue his aft! It wasn't exactly like Prowl looked alike to any of the other mechas!

Did he run away? Why would Prowl do that??

Jazz had stopped in the hangar when it happened. A loud boom echoed out in the entire base. And another, and another. The floor trembled, concrete cracked the walls above.

He saw his comrades rushing for weapons.

No, no. It was exactly what he had feared.

Jazz was too late.

He'd arrive to a mess of metal, steel bars and concrete. Injured soldiers and bodies littering the floor where he stood, at the entrance of the hall.

"Prowl! Stop!" He'd yell.

Prowl would turn, looking over his shoulder and down at Jazz.

Well, down in the literal sense too, but down in a way Jazz had never seen him look before.

His optics- optic- was glazed over with a look that frightened Jazz to his core. Parts unreadable, like Prowl always was, but his lip curled down into a frown. Betrayal. His stare screamed betrayal and...

Anger.

Fury like Jazz had never experienced before. Not from Prowl. Never from Prowl. He'd been mad at the other before, sure, but it was always more like frustration, not pure hatred.

Now, Prowl looked at him like he looked at Jazz's comrades. Full of hatred for what they'd done, for what Jazz had done.

Jazz felt his own brain slow for a few minutes, but when he came back to Prowl had gone and he and any other surviving pilots were rushing for the mechas to give chase.

______

Jazz caught up to Prowl, late behind his brothers-in-mechas, staggering. This was all so sudden, he found his connection to the mecha a struggle at best.

"Halt! Put your weapons down and surrender!"

A mecha called out. Four- maybe five of them were stood on a highway in the desert, surrounding Prowl.

He can't put it down you dunce, it's attached to his arm, Jazz found himself thinking.

He saw Prowl's heavy venting, the drip of bright pink liquid from a surgery not-well-done, coming down from the underside of his face plate where it had been torn open.

It hurt him bad. If Jazz wasn't already struggling to keep it together, seeing the other looking like this didn't help him in staying connected.

Prowl's battlemask closed over the rest of his visible face with a sshink! and clearly, he was not coming easy.

Jazz watched, all he could do, as the other mechas charged in, trading blow for blow with Prowl, trying to grab or hit what they could to restrain him or to injure him beyond battle-condition.

Prowl grabbed one mecha, throwing them over his shoulder pad before another was already at his side. He turned and shot at them with his blaster, a blast through the underside of the right chest plate.

His optic frantically searched for the next target.

TacNet was still faulty, confusing and unintelligible gibberish ran circles in his processor as he tried to focus on keeping himself from being overtaken.

Unfortunately, Prowl now had a blind spot. A mecha came and swung around his left side when he was turned, grabbing onto his wing and with a loud wrUNCH-noise bent and tore half of it almost completely off.

Jazz's gut turned. The sound of everything else faded out when he heard Prowl scream in what Jazz could only imagine was fraggin' agony, ringing in his ear long and hard.

Jazz felt frozen. He watched the other curl in on himself and the opposing mechs surround him.

But that wasnt the end. A quick, muffled out communication between the boss and the other pilots, one Jazz wasn't paying enough attention to until he saw his fellow mechas begin to tear prowl apart.

Prowl had already been forced down into supine before the others began taking and pulling. First his blaster came ripping off his arm, his armour plates cracking as pieces snapped off in mechanic hands. His screams quickly became struggling, violent and heavy croaks of pain.

Something blasted through one of the mechas.

Then another.

"Gwen! What the fuc-"

The mechas turned as Jazz charged them, swinging his fist into the underside of ones chest, tearing out wires when he pulled back, to make sure he damaged something. He swung back at the next one and fired on the third.

"Dont touch him!"

Jazz yelled to the mechas lying on the ground, before flipping around and promptly rushing to Prowls side.

Jazz bent down and looked at Prowl, calling out his name as he did.

Prowl's optic was barely lit. His face engraved by his pain, straining to keep his systems running while barely avoiding an overload on his spark.

Jazz's mecha's chest opened and he crawled out, climbing down and landing on Prowl's chest.

"Prowl, prowler"

He called, leaning down and watching the other, eyes wide in desperation.

"Prowl! Y'gotta- y'gotta open up"

He was yelling, even if he didn't realize, slamming his palm against the others chest plates.

"Please! Please, Prowler, I'm gonna get you outta here-"

He watched the others unmoving face. Prowl's optic wouldn't even glance his way.

Jazz bit his lip so hard it bled before he dug his fingers into the crevices of the others chest, starting to pull, kick and struggle to open one of the latches.

He heard Prowl's venting get more rapid when the other finally looked his way, only to grimace from the ache Jazz was causing.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry Prowl! I ain't gonna leave ya-"

Jazz kept pulling, starting to dig into his pocket to see if he could use a torch and melt the locks open.

He heard a click and a fshhh as the latch he had been tugging on began to crack open.

Jazz didn't have time to thank Prowl for his co-operation, cramming his way inside the others cockpit. He heard Prowl's ventilation whirring fast and uncontrollably, noting also the spark and crackle of broken mechanisms in the cockpit.

He magnetized himself to the floor, dropping down to sit in the pilot seat, turning the controls on manually since everything else was basically fragged.

Prowl lurched up a little bit, letting out a loud yelp as he did.

"Sorry! Work with me here-"

Jazz pulled, fighting Prowl's failing systems together with him.

Prowl staggered, but slowly managed to get up on his feet, Jazz's control pushing him to move through the pain.

"I know where to go, follow me."

Jazz barely spoke out loud, focusing intensely on keeping Prowl moving so they could escape the other mechas before reinforcements would arrive.

________

Thats all teehee

#transformers #maccadam #jazzprowl #mecha pilot jazz au #soo i might like a little bit of angst #okay a lot of angst #i wrote this in my phones notepad forgive me for my mistakes lol

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grimdarling69 · 4 months ago

Text

Another deaged Dan and Ellie or otherwise known as Crack pt 6

Pt1. Pt2. Pt3. Pt4. Pt5.

Kon could immediately tell something was wrong with the kryptonite weapons firing at them. Another green blur shot at himnand he spun in the air over it. A move to evade the blast and check on his family.

The kryptonite guns had just enough kryptonite for it to be dangerous only if the blast hit them. They'd immediately go down. Another blast entered his field of vision, and he swerved to the side. He tried to use his supervision but was only met with lead. They couldn't get closer because of the guns, and he could see Jon get angrier his eyes glowed red in warning of his laser, and Kon flew up to evade him.

"Superboy! Don't use them it could deflect -" his father spoke from his higher position quite a few paces away from them, but Jon ignored him.

The vision hit the gun, and the metal melted into orange, red, and green mess. Like an ugly Christmas tree. Weird. Usually, Luthor would have more security than this. Something is officially wrong.

The batjet he'd been keeping an ear out for since he left finally arrived just as Jon melted another one. The jet swerved the blasts even though he doubted it could even hurt them at this point. The jet shot st a few of the blaster and destroyed them an even more explosive mess. Kon used his own vision, his glasses held in place below the lasers on his face with his hand. Another gun exploded, and his father finally got the hint and exploded several of his own.

The jet careened around them and expertly angled between the already destroyed guns and landed onto the beach. He continued exploding the guns but kept an ear out for the bats on the beach. The ones closest to him were mostly destroyed, so he joined his father in his sector while Jon landed on the beach.

Good luck.

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

Jason was not having a good time at all. Not to say he expected to have a great time rescuing his little brother, but he was hoping to try to get some of the bubbling green rage under control by demolishing some robots. He may possibly not have the best guns for demolishing these robots, he was handling it of course, he was a bat after all, he'd be an even worse disappointment if he couldn't handle some glowing green robots that remind him heavily of thing he'd prefer to leave in the past. He risked a glance toward Dick and could see him take down several robots in an expert acrobatic movement that sent him soaring off each of their head and switching between crushing or electrocuting them with his escrima sticks. Show off.

One of the robots he was fighting suddenly crackled and burned a smoking trail into the sky before exploding and sent himself and several other robots crashing into the walls and each other. It must have been faulty wiring. He knew he didn't touch that one, Babs was still mostly blocked out, and none of his siblings were running to patronize him for getting hurt. If he didn't know better, he'd say the robots were cheaply made, but that's never been Lex Luthors style.

"Red Hood. Help Red Robin turn the robots off in the central monitor room. We need to manually plug Oracles systems into the computers here." Right. Thank you, Bruce, for always being there at the worst possible times. He groaned and attempted to shake the tweeting birds away from his head.

"On it, Batman." He couldn't bring himself to use any stupid nicknames right now. He cataloged all the other bats just in case. Goldie was still the same show off. Red Robin had knocked out his robots and joined him for destroying his wave. Spoiler and Signal were in the rafters doing... something with his powers and reflective baterangs. He wasn't touching that with a fifty foot pole no way. They had a tendency to make things explode with those things. Orphan and Batman were still outside the burning hole in the wall they blasted to get through, so he couldn't find them, but they were probably kicking ads anyway. Suddenly, Tim launched himself backward through the air using his staff and landed behind him, hunkering down and messing with his wristcomputer. That assshole definitely planted explosives. He quickly got one last hit on the current robot and used it to launch himself past his head. Just as he landed, several small bombs exploded on the robots and collided with each other, creating more explosions.

"Time to go Hood."

"Lead on, Replacement."

----------

Why does Superman always disrupt my plans? Not just Superman, he reminds himself, he'd brought their son and his brother. As well as Daniel's family or Damian, whatever. The bats were the worst destroying his robots and his walls. Okay, maybe he didn't have the best robots here because they might be missing quite a few parts and kryptonite. But he needed for the portal, and both Vlad Masters and Lex Luthor were anything but resourceful.

The monitor beeped erratically. Gods above if Damian was going to flatline again. He technically wasn't flatlining but pumping ectoplasm through his heart instead of blood at that moment, and that messed with moniters, and when that happens, nurses get all hysterical and almost actually flatline him.

It wouldn't be such a problem if Damian wasn't severely lacking ectoplasm. Typically, his blood was made of both of it. All that rest from the medicine induced coma that he put him in certainly helped him fight the corruption and was now creating his own. See, if only Damian listened to him more often. It'd be better for everyone.

The moniter died down again, and he sighed and ran a hand down his face.

"Whatever am I going to with you?" He muttered with his head leaning back.

"Maybe stop beating me up." He shot up toward the voice. He wasn't supposed to be awake yet, but this was better anyway. He had to get him into the portal before the bats destroyed all the robots. Another litte voice in his brain betrayed him and reminded him the portal was still not done, and they were closing in.

"Little Badger, you know I don't start fights. I end them." He reprimanded.

"And you know I hate that nickname, and we both know you start fights all the damn time."

"Language." Damian stared unimpressed at him. How was he meant to explain this? The supers and bats somehow discovered where we are and are fighting their way in and are currently tearing the main control room apart? Actually, that isn't that bad.

He told Damian just that, and somehow, he didn't seem to like his paraphrasing. Can't please anyone anymore.

"What do you mean my family is here? How could they track us? This isle is supposed to be superproof."

"I don't know, but I don't have some ideas. I believe Susan has betrayed our trust and ratted us out. I will unfortunately have to fire her, and I was just beginning to like her." He sighed. All the best employees turn out to be useless and disloyal. That's why he prefers A.I. Until it started to betray him, too. Ugh. Never get good help anywhere nowadays.

"Vlad! Focus! I need to get to the portal right now!" He winced.

"Well, about that -" Damian shot up and stumbled on his legs from not moving for two weeks, probably. He reached to steady him.

"Don't touch me! Leave me alone." His godson growled and scampered past him. He left the medical area and quickly started studying his current readings and calculations.

" I've already checked hundreds of times. I can't find out what's wrong with it." He tried to explain but was forced to watch, and Damian grabbed a random red pen and started scribbling all over his things. He sighed again. Teenagers.

"I've got it!" Oh you've got to be kidding me!

"You're trying to create your fancy portal. We don't have the time or materials for that, but we can recreate The Fenton Portal. Most of the ectoplasm is soda anyway. I stashed some in the fridge around here since you banned me from drinking it while we were working." He explained already halfway across the lab and opening a fridge labeled 'chemicals only'. Why does he even try anymore?

More alerts were popping up. Most of his robots were down now and the last remaining ones were the brainless ones not connected to the central computer that luckily he didn't have connected to some of his tech just in case, including this lab. Which now meant he would need to take control of the robots himself. Unless he wanted them to be defeated in less than a minute. Luckily again, most of the kryptonite he had that he hadn't rerouted into the portal was inside those portals.

"I'm going to attack your family now." He announced, cracking his knuckles and hacking into his own robots easily.

"Don't kill them, or I'd have to kill you." He replied, ripping and welding parts together. He's pretty sure he just watched him weld something together with 7up. Nope. Not today.

-----------

Jon was feeling...off. He, for some strange reason, felt an urge to let himself be hit by the kryptonite. Not in a suicidal way, but in a way, he instinctively wanted to be...with the kryptonite. Something that is incredibly dangerous to kryptonians like him even if he's only half.

For a while, he dodged guns, destroyed guns, destroyed robots, and then the Reds destroyed the main computer, and most of the robots deactivated until... the robots suddenly started to get stronger and smarter.

TV moniters suddenly flickered on and Lex Luthor was displayed.

"Luthor! Return Damian Wayne now to uss and we will consider lessening your sentence." His father spoke loudly, assuming mics were around somewhere.

"Oh really? You've never been able to get those charges to stick before. What make you think they'll suddenly stick now?" He mocked cruelly.

"You won't get away with this, this time, Luthor." Batman threatened.

"Coming from the man who can even get a failed circus clown to stay in prison? I think I'll be fine."

"Luthor, I know that something is going on. If you tell us we can help you." Nightwing spoke masterfully, emphasizing the man who stole his little brother. He didn't trust he wouldn't stare screaming and yelling at the crazy fruitloop if he tried to say anything. Wait-fruitloop? Where did that come from? He shook his head to clear the thought, but he somehow made eye contact with the shadow he suspected to be Orphan. Who is somehow emitting a very concerned aura. He ignored that and focused on the conversation just in time to hear large explosions from the TV.

"Damian!" Nightwing yelled out. Superman glanced around wildly as if trying ti will himself into seeing or hearing through lead.

He was concerned... but he didn't feel as worried as he should be for his best friend. Like he was definitely worried but he had a gut feeling he would be fine. And a little exasperated for some reason.

"What the hell are you doing? Get back to work! If we don't get that portal open before they find us, I'm going to rearrange your organs upside down!" Luthor yelled behind him. He could feel his face heat up, and he covered his eyes just in case.

"Don't you dare threaten him!" Nightwing yelled at the screen. Batman was starting at his wrist screen as if it would disappear if he looked away. The shadow had slunked away sometime. Spoiler and Signal nowhere to be seen.

"What are you gong to do? Reach through the screen and throttle me?" He taunted.

The screen suddenly started to glitch out in green bursts. It reminded him of kryptonite but...

"I've found them. Follow these directions. I'm almost there myself." He overheard Signal from Batmans comms. He repeated them twice, but he had already grabbed Nightwing and saw his dad grab his own bat. They couldn't go as fast as he wanted to because of the tight spaces, making superspeed dangerous to the supports. If they went too fast, the building could go down on them. They went faster than they should have anyway.

They reached the door where Signal, Spoiler, and Orphan were trying to wrench the doors off the hinges using several blowtorches and a misshapen crowbar.

"I've got it." He set Nightwing on the ground and cleared the door off the hinges just to see a large explosion of green. And Lex Luthor shooting powered up kryptonite(?) from his hands.

He dodged the blasts but his father wasn't able to and was sent flying to the wall smoking.

"Dad!" He screamed his anger at him forgotten. He flew over him and he vaguely remembers a yellow blur following him.

There was a smoking crater on his chest. Burns of all degrees decorating his suit.

"Dad?" He collapsed to the floor infront of him.

"It's okay, Jon. It's not that... bad... it looks worse than is. I promise. Go...bakc to the...fight." his dad spoke, his voice cracking, and he knew his dad was completely powered down. He had to get him to the sun.

"I'm getting you out of here." He promised and gathered him into his arms carefully. He was about to laser several random walls down when Signal handed him the closest trajectory to the outside.

"Hurry. We can handle this." He lied. They couldn't handle a powered Luthor, and he's couldn't let his dad die. He nodded and turned his head away, and his eyes lit up in burning pools of red.

----------

The green was mesmerizing. The only word Cass could describe it. Like it was the only thing that could understand her. It reminded her of the Lazarus Pits.

She ran inside with Spoiler, Nightwing, and Batman close behind. Luthor tried to shoot at them, but they dodged skillfully. She looked past him and could see Damian typing madly on a computer. His movements were deliberate, and he knew what he was doing, but his body betrayed hum to her. His fingers were still, but his wrist twisted slightly too much. His ankles shifted weight between one another. His head tilted backward like he was physically stopping himself from looking at them.

"Damian!" Nightwing vaulted over a blast.

Damian froze for a second but willed himself to continue with new determination, painting his body. Something wasn't right. He should be running to them. Telling them he had a plan they ruined but would pause for enough time they knew he was struggling if they asked for it.

"Damian? We're here to save you!" Nightwing dodged another blast. She could see his plan. Distract both Damian and luthor. It was working, too. Luthor was occssionly shooting her, but he'd all but forgotten about Batman and Spoiler in the rafters.

Damian wasn't at all easily distracted she could tell from his headtilt he was watching them. He sped up the computer. The large portal machine expanded, and greens swirled around.

"Shut it down, Damian!" Nightwing shouted, attempting to rush luthor but failing. She launched herself using the distraction to take luthor out. He is somehow stronger than she can remember flung her off rough enough she hit the wall. She saw stars and failed to rise. Her vision was blurring, but she could see Batman's blurry figure attempting to subdue luthor and succeeding. Where's spoiler?

There she is! Spoiler kumped down on top of Luthor and put meta cuffs on him using the elemnt of suprise. Nightwing reached Damian just as the portal exploded, adding unfamiliar purples mixed in. Nightwing was thrown back, but he recovered and ran back. Batman and Luthor struggled in vain for control. She blinked, and Spoiler was a purple blur at her side.

Her body riddled with worry. She reached out and gently prodded her for injuries.

"Fine. Help little... brother." she tried to say, but it was mostly slurred from the blood loss. Spoiler glanced at her nervously and took out her field aid.

"No. Fine." She attempted to convey, but she just shushed her quietly. She turned back to the fight just in time to catch Damian slip through the portal. Nightwing didn't hesitate to run after him.

"No!" Her father's voice and anguished growled after watching two sons slip through. He tried to follow them, but Luthor got free and broke the computer powering. Just as Batman reached the edge, he hesitated, and the portal fizzled out.

She tried to stay awake but the gentle shushing from Spoiler lulled her into the embrace of darkness.

---------

Dick Grayson hit the strange glowing bluish snow and rolled to a soft stop. He looked around frantically and spotted Damian kneeling on the ground. He had his arms wrapped around himself, and his face was screwed up in pain.

"Damian!" He ran to him and kneeled by his side, hesitating to grab his son if he was injured but wanting to scoop him up after being missing for two months now.

"You shouldn't be here." He murmured but he leaned against him heavily.

"I've been looking for you everywhere. We almost thought you were dead." He gave up looking for physical injuries apart from the maybe a mix between 1st and 2nd degree burns and clutched his son to his chest.

"It's not...safe for you...here."

"And it is for you?" He gathered him in his arms best he could, minding the burns on him. Neither of them were wearing clothes meant for the storm.

The strange snow was colder than any snow he's ever seen before, and it had an otherworldly component to it. Another point for the interdimensinal portal. Behind then sharp hissing screeched behind them and the greens snd purples disappeared. Shit. That was their way out.

"Who goes there?" A large voice echoed from the trees and he cursed himself for not studying his surrounding more. A large...yeti? Emerged from the pine trees he wore armor and had a ice prosthetic hand. He looked mean and rugged.

"Frostbite!" Damian yelled from his arms and started struggling. He gripped him tighter. Like hell, he was letting him loose after everything. Even if he somehow knew this kinda of cool looking yeti. The yetis eyes lit up in what he thinks his recognition.

"Great one? Have you returned to us? Who is this?" The yetis voice was softer but still dangerous he kept his mouth shut and hoped Damian knew what to say.

"My-baba? We need to get your village. I need some help." Wow. Damian had never acknowledged he was anything other than his older brother before. If he wasn't a bat and damn good at compartmentalizeing, he'd probably start crying. Or pass out. Probably both.

"All right then, Great One. Any family or friends of his is friends of ours. Follow me."

Which is how he came to be standing in the middle of an entire town of yetis getting scrutinized by Frostbite(?).

"So how did you meet our King? I've never seen you before." He questioned curiously. What the actual fuck did he get into now.

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help-itrappedmyself · 1 year ago

Text

Danny Punches a Clown Part 6

Masterpost

Danny, after many promises and assurances, lets Red Robin take him to the batcave. They travel by car, and as fancy as it was, Danny was almost scared to touch anything inside it. Red was a much better driver than his father though, so he just closed his eyes and focused on trying to keep his healing up.

The Batcave turned out to be an actual cave, underground, with actual bats in it. He was whisked to a medical area too quickly to see much of anything else besides some other vehicles and a giant computer set up.

Someone was waiting in the medical space with a tray of tools and bandages ready next to the bed, Red introduced him as Agent A. They were quick to lie him down on a cot and set him up to a heart monitor and that had Red and the A frowning immediately.

“It’s a medical condition.” Danny blurted, and both pairs of eyes shot to him. “My heartrate is naturally very slow, temperature runs cold, pale skin, slow circulation so I can't have a lot of different medications." Not that any medications would really work, but better safe than sorry. Them not working would be suspicious, and Danny does not have the energy or focus for trying to keep straight any real explanations right now. "It’s fine, I promise.”

Agent A nodded slowly. “Is there anything else we should know before we start treatment?”

“Just can't give me any medicines, I think that's the only relevant bit.”

“Alright, I will keep that in mind. Please lift your shirt so I can see the wound.”

Danny does, and they manage their expressions quite well on seeing it. Agent A goes immediately for creams and bandages.

“What burned you like that?” Red asked.

“Gun.” Danny was starting to slur. He did not want to sleep right now, with these people here.

“A gun? What kind of gun causes burns?”

“New blaster, parents made it special.”

“Your parents make guns?”

Danny shrugs, turning his head to look at Red instead of the far off ceiling of the cave. “My parents make lots of things. They're scientists, inventors." Danny waves his arm around vaguely. "The gun was new though, hadn’t been shot with that one before. The earlier versions were much less powerful.”

“Are you saying that your parents are the ones that shot you?” Red asked gently, taking a seat in the chair next to the bed. “It wasn’t just their gun that was used?”

Danny frowns. “Well yeah.”

Tim is very concerned at the tone he just used, like getting shot at by your parents was normal. “Do they shoot at you a lot?”

“Fair amount I suppose.” Red could see Danny thinking really hard about something. Dany’s head was really starting to hurt. His brain was fuzzy and he knew he should be concerned about something, but couldn’t figure out what. His parents shooting at him was nothing new, considering. “Like, they did it more than Vlad but I don’t see him as often, and they’ve done it longer than the GIW, but since the GIW has started they’ve been about equal I guess. I mean, sometimes all the defense systems in the house target me but that wasn’t technically intentional. Took forever for us to figure out how to get them to stop that.”

“Danny, when was the last time you slept?” Red asked gently.

Danny wasn’t sure if his blip earlier this morning counted. He didn’t think it lasted more than an hour, but the last time he slept before that was before his fight in Amity, escaping through the ghost zone and running around in this dimension.

“It’s been awhile.” Danny landed on. True enough for medical history he supposed.

“Right.” A finished the last of the bandages and tugged Danny’s shirt back down. “Well, why don’t you do that now, while we go and find you something to eat.”

“I’m too tired to fight food right now.”

Tim shared a look with Alfred before turning back to Danny. “Okay then. Maybe sleep first and then eat?”

“I will go start making something now that you’re all set up here Mister Danny.” Agent A states, walking past the medical curtains and shutting them behind him. Red pulled out a tablet and started tapping on it. He noticed Danny’s eyes on him after a moment.

“You going to sleep?”

“Strange place, strange people. Not sure that’s the best decision here.”

Red looked up from his tablet.

“You trusted me enough to come here. Trust me enough to sleep. I will make sure no one but me or A comes in before you’re ready.”

#danny phantom #my writing #fanfiction #batman #dp x dc #dc x dp #red robin #tim drake #agent a #alfred pennyworth #they've made it to the batcave #danny has now been awake for about 3 straight days #sort of #time is weird in the zone #danny punches a clown #dc x dp crossover #alternate universe

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nefastidies · 5 months ago

Text

Inspired by "Implicit Demand for Proof" by imperialhuxness

-1-

“I need you on the ground,” Ren says instead, measured, but tight-strung as a grappling cable. Apparently sensing the retort on the tip of Hux’s tongue, he continues, “But I’m not taking you into the thick of combat.”

Hux thins his lips, keeps up the patient tone. “That’s where this team and I will be most effective.”

“At too high a risk.”

Since when do you care about risks? Hux barely bites back, instead manages, level, “Nothing we do is without risk.”

Ren’s gaze flashes with an insistence that isn’t anger. His eyes are like coals, waiting for a spark. “I’m not taking you into that firefight.”

Really.

Fucking really.

“So you won’t take me into a firefight,” Hux lowers his voice to a hiss, but it still reverbs under the high ceiling, “yet you dragged me ten klicks below the surface of Coruscant.”

“Well, maybe I--” Ren hesitates, gnawing his lips. His gaze drops to the mosaic tile between their boots, then flickers back to Hux’s face. “I shouldn’t have.”

Hux is too pissed off to bask in the near-admission of wrong. “Well, you can compensate by bringing me this time, when it makes actual, tactical sense.”

“You’re not going into a combat zone.”

“I was born and raised in a--”

Ren’s voice drops to a whisper. “That’s an order,” he says, invoking it almost gently, below earshot of the men.

Hux purses his lips, aware of his surroundings again. Of the absolute indecorum of this argument.

Around himself and Ren, three officers stare at their feet, four tap too aggressively at their datapads. The two trooper commanders confer in whispers about a new blaster model. Mitaka seems interested in the mosaic on the floor.

“Yes, sir,” Hux forces out, Academy pert, and the gathered staff returns more or less to professional attention.

--- -2-

Hux whirls toward the sound as a massive shape bursts through the treeline, scattering leaves. Some sort of megafauna. Some sort of monster.

The creature’s smooth skin glistens livid green, its underbelly sickly pale. Its mouth opens wide, baring short, sharp teeth like a Rodian fly-trap’s. It has six legs, each ending in a crustacean pincer, which stab the ground with each step. It reeks of rot and salt, as if it just crawled out of brackish water.

Hux’s pulse skyrockets, and he jumps back on adrenaline. Why do you ever leave the ship, every time you leave the ship it’s some shit like this, every goddamn time—

He yells to Ren that they should run, even as the creature screeches again, lunges toward them.

But Ren stays put. “You should run.”

And Hux would. He would, but he’s already several meters back, and the soles of his boots weigh a kiloton. He’s rooted to the ground. The blood pounds in his ears, and he can’t move, can’t think.

The thing screeches. It’s high-pitched. It rends the air. Its movements ruffle the foliage around it. Its pincers break the damp earth.

Ren steps in front of Hux. Into its path.

--- -3-

But Yago’s lips still twist into something unbearably self-satisfied. “General Armitage Hux,” he says, “was executed six months ago on a charge of high treason. So even if Hux were alive, it would be my sworn duty to have him shot in the back of the head.”

It hits like a blow. Phantom pain lances through his leg, between his ribs. Yago’s right. There’s no defense when he’s--

Before Hux can formulate one, Ren’s gaze kindles. “I’m Supreme Leader,” he returns, typical thoughtless clapback. “I hereby pardon him.”

(Typical thoughtless clapback.)

Everyone knows traitors receive no mercy.

--- -4-

A humanoid figure emerges from the shadows like he’s been waiting there. In two strides, he closes the distance to Hux and Ren. It’s clear he’s part alien, skin teal-tinged and marked with pale striations. His voice is somewhat rough with drink, but his movements are smooth, purposeful, eyes trained on Hux.

“Thought you could just slip out with your date?” he spits.

There are far bigger concerns than correcting the assumption.

“What?” Hux returns, elegantly.

“The bartender told me you were coming this way,” the man says, ill-concealed rage contorting his mouth. “Got a lot more nerve than I’d give you credit for, showing your face like this.”

Shit. Hux’s pulse picks up, and for a second the alley takes on the sharp edges of panic. You knew this would happen eventually, you knew -- Stop.

“I’m sorry,” he says, tamping down the worst case scenario, “what are you--”

But it’s like he doesn’t even hear it.

“Kind of man that’ll pull a trigger from a thousand lightyears away. Not even the guts to look at what you’d done.” The man’s eyes flash with the sort of hatred Hux actually recognizes. “My wife was on Courtsilius, General Hux .”

The man takes a step closer, and Hux is about to spread his hands and explain with a baffled simper that he’s got the wrong person. That the Hosnian ‘Cataclysm’ was an unspeakable tragedy and a monstrous war crime.

But before he can speak, sulfurous green ignites in his periphery. The air hums, cracks with the sudden whiff of ozone. The blade of the antique saber impales the man’s chest.

--- -5-

Ren shakes his head. “But I still need you,” he says, eyes glittering, desperate, searching. “What about weapons dev? And you can actually conduct diplomacy--”

Hux cracks a smile. “That’s going a bit far.”

Ren huffs a laugh, but doesn’t indulge him. “You balance me,” he continues. “I don’t know what I’ll do. I love you.”

Hux’s pulse drops into his stomach. His spine stiffens, more from surprise than actual discomfort. It isn’t a concept with which he’s familiar. But it’s right, somehow. As Ren’s eyes search his face, curious but unshrinking, he can’t deny it.

#star wars #kylux #my art #fic rec #it's sooo good guys #i can't Q^Q❤️

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writeriguess · 25 days ago

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Heya! May i have a Mandalorian x fem!reader? She's like his mechanic or something but she's also very attached to Grogu and is very caring towards them both. Maybe they're out somewhere and are attacked and reader gets hurt protecting Grogu and Din realizes how much he cares for her?

author's note: Thank you so much for requesting <3

A Home Among the Stars

The hiss of pressurized air filled the workshop as you carefully adjusted the hydrospanner in your hand. Your fingers danced over the controls, tightening bolts along the Razor Crest’s engine panel. Despite the old ship’s wear and tear, it had a charm that only a mechanic could appreciate—or someone who spent hours trying to keep it in the sky.

And that someone was you.

“Din,” you called out, wiping your grease-covered hands on your pants. You didn’t care about appearances when it came to your work. “When’s the last time you actually replaced the heat shielding? This thing’s held together with spit and hope.”

Din Djarin, the Mandalorian clad in his beskar armor, leaned against the entryway, arms crossed. His helmet tilted slightly, and though you couldn’t see his face, you could almost feel his sheepishness.

“It works,” he said simply, voice smooth and modulated.

You rolled your eyes, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “Yeah, well, it won’t for long if you keep running it into blaster fire and letting Jawas ‘fix’ it with spare parts.”

A soft coo interrupted your lecture, and you glanced to the side to find Grogu perched on a crate, watching you intently. His big eyes sparkled with curiosity as his tiny hands fiddled with a stray bolt you’d left lying around.

“And you,” you said, smiling warmly as you crouched in front of him. “That’s not a toy, little guy.”

Grogu tilted his head, holding the bolt up as if in protest.

“Don’t encourage him,” Din muttered, stepping closer.

Ignoring the bounty hunter, you gently took the bolt from Grogu’s hands, replacing it with a small, smooth rock you kept in your pocket. It was something you’d found on one of your countless scavenging trips—a perfect fit for tiny hands.

“There,” you said softly, brushing your thumb over Grogu’s cheek. “Much better.”

The child made a happy sound, clutching the rock tightly. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight, your chest warming with a tenderness you hadn’t felt in years.

“You spoil him,” Din said, though his tone lacked any real bite.

You straightened, shooting him a look. “And you don’t?”

Din shrugged. “He’s—”

“Special,” you finished for him. “I know. And he deserves to be treated that way.”

For a moment, the two of you stood in silence, the hum of the ship and Grogu’s contented babbling filling the air.

“You’re good with him,” Din said eventually, his voice quieter than usual.

Your heart skipped a beat at the unexpected compliment. “He’s easy to love,” you replied, glancing at Grogu. “Both of you are.”

The words slipped out before you could stop them, and you immediately busied yourself with your tools, pretending you hadn’t just bared your soul in the middle of an engine repair.

Din didn’t respond right away, and the weight of his gaze felt almost tangible. You wondered what thoughts were running through his mind behind that expressionless helmet.

“Thank you,” he said finally, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

You looked up, surprised. His stance had relaxed slightly, and though you couldn’t see his face, you felt the sincerity in his words.

“Anytime,” you said, giving him a small smile.

The planet was quiet, almost too quiet, as you followed Din through the narrow, winding paths of the market. It was the kind of place that seemed like it had more shadows than people, where eyes lingered too long and conversations hushed when strangers passed. Din walked ahead, his hand resting lightly on the blaster at his hip, while Grogu cooed softly from his floating pod beside you.

“Stick close,” Din said, his voice low but firm. He didn’t turn to look at you, but you could tell from the slight tilt of his helmet that he was checking on you regardless.

“I always do,” you replied, scanning the area. The market stalls were packed with all sorts of strange goods: glowing crystals, exotic fruits, scraps of tech you couldn’t identify. Despite the eerie atmosphere, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of curiosity.

Grogu made a delighted sound as you passed a stall selling shiny trinkets, his little hands reaching out toward the wares.

“No,” Din said immediately, his tone that of a long-suffering parent.

“Oh, come on,” you said, smiling as you reached into your pocket. “It’s just a little shiny thing. Let him have it.”

Din sighed, but he didn’t stop you as you handed over a few credits to the vendor and picked up a small metal orb. You placed it in Grogu’s hands, and his wide eyes sparkled with joy as he turned it over, inspecting it like it was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.

“You’re going to spoil him rotten,” Din muttered.

“That’s the goal,” you shot back, grinning.

The Mandalorian shook his head, but you could see the faintest tilt of his helmet that suggested amusement.

The moment of levity didn’t last long. A sharp noise—a blaster bolt cutting through the air—shattered the peace of the market. Din moved before you even processed what was happening, his blaster drawn and his body positioned protectively in front of you and Grogu.

“Get to cover,” he barked, his voice tense.

You didn’t argue. Scooping Grogu’s pod closer to you, you ducked behind a stack of crates, your heart pounding in your chest.

The attackers came into view a moment later—three figures clad in mismatched armor, their weapons raised. You didn’t recognize them, but their intent was clear.

“Hand over the kid,” one of them growled, his voice distorted by a crude helmet.

“Not happening,” Din replied coldly.

Blaster fire erupted, the sound deafening in the confined space. Din moved with precision, returning fire and taking down one of the attackers in seconds. But the others were quick, flanking him and forcing him to retreat closer to your position.

Your hands trembled as you reached for the small blaster Din had insisted you carry. You weren’t a fighter, not like him, but you weren’t about to sit idly by while he and Grogu were in danger.

Grogu whimpered, clutching the shiny orb you’d given him, and your resolve hardened. You shifted to shield his pod with your body, your eyes scanning for an opening.

One of the attackers broke away, heading straight for you.

“Din!” you shouted, but he was too occupied with the other assailant to intervene.

You didn’t think. You didn’t have time to. As the attacker raised his weapon, you lunged forward, firing your blaster. The shot went wide, but it was enough to throw him off. He snarled, swinging his rifle like a club. The impact caught you in the side, and pain exploded through your ribs as you hit the ground hard.

“Stay away from him!” you gasped, struggling to your feet.

The attacker ignored you, his focus locked on Grogu. Adrenaline surged through you, overriding the pain, and you threw yourself between them just as he raised his rifle again. The butt of the weapon struck your shoulder, sending you sprawling.

“Hey!” Din’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp and furious.

Before the attacker could land another blow, Din was there. His blaster fired point-blank, dropping the man instantly.

The last assailant, realizing he was outmatched, fled, leaving the market eerily quiet once more.

Din turned to you, his helmet tilting as he took in your crumpled form.

“You’re hurt,” he said, his voice tight.

“I’m fine,” you lied, wincing as you tried to sit up.

“You’re not fine.” He was already kneeling beside you, his gloved hands hovering uncertainly before settling on your arm. “Why didn’t you stay behind cover?”

You glanced at Grogu, who was peering out of his pod with a worried expression. “I couldn’t let them hurt him,” you said simply.

Din was silent for a moment, his grip on your arm tightening slightly. Then, without a word, he scooped you up, carrying you as if you weighed nothing.

“Din—”

“Quiet,” he interrupted, his voice softer now but still firm. “We’re leaving.”

Grogu’s pod floated along beside him as he carried you back toward the Razor Crest, his stride purposeful.

Back on the ship, Din set you down carefully on the small cot in the corner of the hull. He moved with an efficiency that spoke of experience, pulling out a medkit and sitting beside you.

“Let me see,” he said, gesturing to your side.

“I told you, I’m fine—”

“Let me see,” he repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You sighed, relenting as you pulled up your shirt to reveal the bruises blooming across your ribs. Din’s hands stilled for a moment before he reached out, his touch surprisingly gentle as he examined the injury.

“You’re reckless,” he said quietly, though there was no anger in his voice—only something softer, something you couldn’t quite name.

“You’re one to talk,” you muttered, earning a faint huff of amusement from him.

His gloved fingers lingered on your skin for a moment longer than necessary before he pulled away, reaching for a bacta patch. As he applied it, you noticed how careful he was, as if he was afraid of hurting you.

“Why would you do that?” he asked suddenly, his voice low.

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Do what?”

“Put yourself in danger like that.”

You hesitated, searching for the right words. “Because I care about him. About both of you.”

Din stilled, his helmet tilted down toward you. You couldn’t see his face, but you felt the intensity of his gaze all the same.

“You didn’t have to,” he said, his voice almost a whisper.

“I did,” you said softly. “I’d do it again if I had to.”

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Then, slowly, Din reached up and rested his gloved hand on top of yours.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice filled with a depth of emotion you hadn’t heard before.

Later, you sat on the cot in the hull, your back pressed against the cool metal wall, a blanket wrapped loosely around your shoulders. The dull ache in your ribs had subsided slightly thanks to the bacta patch Din applied earlier, but the events of the day lingered like a storm cloud in your mind.

Grogu sat beside you on the cot, cooing softly as he fiddled with the shiny orb you'd given him earlier. Every now and then, he glanced up at you, his wide, soulful eyes filled with concern. You stroked the soft fuzz on his head absentmindedly, letting his quiet presence soothe you.

The sound of heavy footsteps broke your reverie. Din emerged from the cockpit, his armor catching the dim light as he made his way toward you. He stopped a few paces away, his helmet tilted slightly downward, as if he were unsure how to approach.

“You should be resting,” he said, his voice quieter than usual.

“I’m fine,” you replied, though you knew the strain in your voice betrayed you.

“You’re not,” he said, taking another step closer. He gestured to the bruises on your side. “That’s going to take time to heal. You should stay off your feet for a while.”

“And what about you?” you countered, raising an eyebrow. “When’s the last time you rested?”

He didn’t answer, his helmet tilting slightly as if to avoid your gaze.

“Exactly,” you said, shaking your head. “Don’t lecture me about rest when you’re just as bad at it.”

Din sighed, the sound soft but unmistakable. He stepped closer, lowering himself onto the bench across from you. For a moment, the two of you sat in silence, the hum of the ship filling the space between you.

“Why did you do it?” he asked suddenly, breaking the quiet. His voice was steady, but there was something beneath it—something raw.

“Do what?” you asked, though you already knew the answer.

“Put yourself in danger for him. For us.”

You glanced down at Grogu, who was now chewing on the edge of the blanket draped over your lap. “Because I care,” you said simply, your voice barely above a whisper.

Din didn’t respond right away. Instead, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His helmet was angled toward the floor, but you could feel the weight of his gaze even if you couldn’t see his eyes.

“I’ve seen people do reckless things for credits, for revenge, for power,” he said slowly. “But you… You didn’t hesitate. You didn’t even think about yourself.”

“I thought about Grogu,” you said, your tone firmer now. “And about you. I couldn’t just sit back and let something happen to either of you.”

His shoulders stiffened slightly, and you wondered if you’d said too much. But then he spoke again, his voice softer this time.

“You could’ve been killed.”

“I know.”

“And you’d do it again.”

It wasn’t a question, but you nodded anyway. “I would.”

Din leaned back against the wall, his gloved hands resting on his thighs. He stayed silent for a long moment, the tension in the air thick enough to cut.

“You shouldn’t have to,” he said finally, his voice barely audible.

You frowned, tilting your head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“It’s my job to protect him,” he said, his tone almost bitter. “And you. I should’ve been faster, better. You shouldn’t have had to step in.”

The guilt in his voice was palpable, and it twisted something in your chest. You leaned forward, reaching out to rest a hand on his arm.

“Din, you can’t be everywhere at once,” you said gently. “You did everything you could. You always do.”

He didn’t pull away from your touch, but his posture remained rigid. “It’s not enough,” he murmured.

“It is,” you insisted. “And even if it wasn’t, we’re a team, aren’t we? You don’t have to do everything on your own.”

He finally turned his helmet toward you, the reflective surface catching the faint light of the hull. “A team,” he repeated, as if testing the word.

“Yes,” you said firmly. “And a team watches out for each other. That’s what I was doing. Watching out for you and Grogu.”

Grogu chose that moment to coo softly, reaching out with his tiny hands to touch Din’s armored knee. The gesture seemed to break through some of the tension, and Din let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head.

“You spoil him,” he said, though his tone lacked any real admonishment.

“Someone has to,” you replied with a grin.

Din fell quiet again, but this time the silence felt different—less heavy, more contemplative. He reached out, gently brushing his gloved fingers over Grogu’s ear, eliciting a delighted squeal from the child.

“He cares about you,” Din said, his voice warm. “More than I’ve seen him care about anyone else.”

You felt a lump form in your throat, and you swallowed hard before answering. “I care about him, too. And you.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavier than you intended. Din’s helmet tilted slightly, as if he were studying you, and your heart raced under his scrutiny.

“I know,” he said finally, his voice quiet but certain.

You blinked, unsure how to respond. Before you could say anything, Din rose to his feet, his movements fluid and deliberate. He reached out, resting a hand on your shoulder—a brief, almost hesitant gesture, but one that sent warmth spreading through you.

“Get some rest,” he said, his voice soft. “I’ll take first watch.”

“Din—”

“Please,” he added, cutting you off.

The word caught you off guard. You nodded slowly, leaning back against the cot as Grogu snuggled closer to your side. Din lingered for a moment longer before turning and walking back toward the cockpit, his steps heavy but purposeful.

As the door hissed shut behind him, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. Grogu made a soft, contented sound, and you stroked his head absently, your thoughts spinning.

Din’s words echoed in your mind, mingling with the unspoken emotions you’d seen in his actions. There was something there—something deeper than duty, something neither of you were ready to name.

For now, you let it be.

Feel free to request <3

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