#rip this blog and fanfics

[dysfunctional-doodle]

The climax for In Nightmares (not the last chapter, but certainly The Chapter) is gonna be out in a few hours hopefully, I hope y’all like reading because it’s far too long lol.

[faeofdusk]

some voltron doodles because the brainrot is real

[i-heart-yellowstone]

18 - The Life of a Cowboy

Part 19

Raised Far Share of Hell

Tag list @bvbwestfall @hcwthewestwaswcn @child-of-of-the-sunshine @elenavampire21 @keep-the-wolves-close @kmc1989 @tallrock35

Send in any ideas you would like to see in this story

Tying my hair in a braid falling down my back, I tugged on the reins of my horse feeling the wind blowing through my hair. Closing my eyes I lean back on my horse sighing in relief at this feeling of being so free. I haven't felt such freedom since we were spending our time at the summer camp. This feeling I want to hold onto for as long as possible. Dismounting my horse the tent flap gets opened revealing my husband who gave me a small smile. "Hey baby, I woke up and you were gone."

"It's fine Kayce. I just went out for a morning ride." I replied, tucking hair behind my ear wrapping my arms around his neck.

He rested his hands on my hips tugging me closer to his chest, smirking playfully. I mirror his expression knowing it would only lead to something reckless in the cowboy way. "I wanna show you somethin' while the kids are still asleep on their saddles."

Climbing back on my horse I followed him through the treeline where we rode for a little ways finding a rock ledge that reveals a huge clearing of a beautiful open field of orange and yellow. Slowly dropping off my horse Kayce tugged me down to sit beside him. He wrapped his arms around my waist kissing the crown of my head. "This spot brings me back to our honeymoon...I think we're getting back to that darling."

"I'd have to disagree." I teased, lifting my head to glance up into his brown eyes.

He squeezes me lightly, nuzzling his nose against mine getting my smile to grow. "Is that so. Tell me Mrs. Dutton, what exactly am I missing?"

Gently pushing him onto his back on the ground I hold myself up with my hands on either side of him. "Well we didn't really have a honeymoon. So I think we deserve a re-do. Because I love our children, but they take a lot out of me." I sighed with my hair falling in front of my eyes.

Kayce reached up tucking it behind my ear chuckling up at me rolling us over so I was the one on my back. "Oh I think I can do a re-do right here. With the woman that I love laying in the most beautiful scenery on earth.." He leans down pressing his lips onto mine where I immediately kiss him back.

Wrapping my arms and legs around him he puts his weight down on me deepening the kiss. One of my hands reaches up, knocking his black cowboy hat off his head threading my fingers into his brown curls. When I tugged on them he released a moan making me break the kiss for a split second. "Slow down cowboy. We've got time..."

"I don't want to wait , Alissa. We have to live everyday to the fullest." He said in a raspy voice pressing his lips onto mine making me moan, twisting my fingers into his curls. We got so caught up in one another that we almost didn't hear the sound of another horse coming our way.

"Mom, Dad?" Faith's voice filled the air making us break away seeing her holding her younger sister on her horse staring at us slightly confused and embarrassed. "Are you two...you know?" She punched a fist into the air, blushing.

Kayce doesn't dare look me in the eye while I attempt to sit up pulling leaves out of my hair blushing myself. Every time I look at my daughter I still see her as a six year old. "Um - maybe. What do you need, honey?"

"Grandpa said to come find you. It's time to herd the cattle." She replied, clicking her tongue signaling her horse to go on its way back to the others.

Kayce flopped down on his black beside me running a hand down his face chuckling at me softly. Turning my head in his direction I hold myself up by my right elbow shaking my head at him. "Sometimes I wish she didn't grow up and just kept playing with ponies."

"Hey, look at it this way. She clearly knows what we were about to do. So you might not have to have the talk." He threw his hand in the air until I playfully shoved him hearing him start laughing at me.

Exiting the tent I found my family sitting by the burning fire. My daughter Faith began sniffing the air when I sat down beside her on the camp log. “Hang on a second. Kayce, do you recognize that smell?”

“Yeah I kinda do. Could it be-“

Kayce sniffs around too, seeing a bucket hanging above the burning fire. "Biscuits!" We both exclaimed with joy. I haven't had any since the day Evelyn had passed.

"Why are you two so happy about biscuits?" Tate asked into the air confused, we hadn't gotten around to telling him the story of the famous biscuits yet.

"You two ain't told him about his grandmother's biscuits yet?" Dad slapped his knees in shock with a deep chuckle.

Faith stuck her tongue out at the both of us. “That’s embarrassing cause I do. Tell him grandpa, tell him.”

"I'm gonna tell you a story, grandson. A story of how badly your parents have an addiction to these particular biscuits. You see your grandma Evelyn had this secret recipe for making biscuits.” John placed Tate onto his lap spinning the tale of me and Kayce in our youth. “Every time she'd make'em the whole house would just be filled with the warm scent. Those two over there would lose their minds everytime they found the treats."

Tate laughed looking back at us. "Really?"

I blushed a little recalling the memory my father in law was talking about. "There was this one time during a Christmas dinner that your daddy and mommy were bouncing off the walls waiting for them. When they were finally ready he'd take a plate of biscuits and nothing else. They'd just sit with their backs to us in the fire light, going at them with both their hands."

Kayce chuckled, clearly embarrassed. "They were really good."

A few minutes later everyone was stuffing their faces with warm biscuits at least till I reached down, finding that my plate and my husband’s were empty. "I'm out." Tate looks to John who chuckled while lifting the lid of the warm pot.

“Me too.”

"There's only one left. Watch this grandkids." John pointed his index finger with Faith and Tate putting their attention on us.

Spinning in my seat I eye my husband seriously holding my left palm out over my other hand becoming a fist. "Rock, paper, scissors."

I threw paper and he threw scissors, cheering. "I win!"

We scrambled to our feet where I tackled my husband into the dirt near the fire. He holds the biscuit away out of my reach seeing her hovering above me. "Kayce John Dutton, give me the biscuit." I warned him sternly looking down at me.

"Alissa Rae Lambert-Dutton, I won it fair and square." Kayce mocked back at me. Faith suddenly comes over, snatching it from my hands making us both snap our heads her way as she tears it into two pieces giving the other one to her half brother.

Tate sent her a grin. “Thanks Faith.” Kayce and I shared a look knowing it was better to let the kids have it.

The next morning I didn't get woken up easily instead Kayce was shaking me awake mumbling something about a cowboy dead. Rubbing my eyes I quickly got to my feet following the direction he was leading me to find his father sitting beside the older cowboy named Emmett who had joined us on the journey. The branding was happening today and I had to bet his wife would be there. "Oh my gosh. John I, how did this happen?" Dropping down on a knee before the two cowboys Kayce and I both removed our hats in the process.

"He cuddled up on his saddle with that blanket. And we laid underneath the stars..." He took a long pause for a breath staring into my eyes. "He never opened his eyes when I came to wake him up...I couldn't have imagined a better way to go."

Wiping some tears away I watched Kayce climb back on his horse and put his head back on his head, eyeing his father. "Best way to go for a cowboy."

"Best way for anyone to go." I replied, climbing back on my horse with everyone riding back to the ranch. Once we got back John immediately rushed to Emmett's wife right as I saw the camera crew focusing on them. "Oh no they don't!"

I attempted to run forward and scold them for filming such a sad moment but Kayce snagged my wrist holding me back with a warning glance. "We don't need to get involved. If they make it turn bad my dad will take care of it." Nodding in agreement I watched John embrace the crying woman in a tight hug.

[wonderinc-sonic]

There's a Therapy Office for Robots Now? ○ Chapter 2: The Delinquent.

Warnings for: medical malpractice, manipulation (unsuccessful), violent language but no violence

E-123 Omega has a court-mandated mental health assessment. He knows his own mind.

No need to read first chapter, it's not relevant for this.

Why yes, I am in a draft clearing mood, how'd you know? I need to swap to a new app so I want to throw up the stuff that I think I don't need to import over. The metal sonic chapter and the orbot vague concept of a chapter will need to move over, but this one was already done I just forgot it.

[junk-and-disorderly]

a man of constant sorrow

He remembered the day he buried his parents. Mother was first, buried with yellow daisies and marigolds so she’d never have another blue day. Their father stood stone faced with a stiff upper lip--he mourned her pauper’s grave, instead the seat that now sat empty at the table.

When it came time to bother their father, neither he nor Al shed a tear. There were no flowers or kind words--instead they left a deck of cards and an empty PBR--it was the only thing the old man understood.

Grief was a complicated thing, the love and the pain wrapped up in one like thorns to a rose, unable to exist without one another.

But it was one thing for a child to bury a parent--death comes for all. No parent bears a child, expecting to bury them.

And Wayne?

He didn’t even have a body to bury.

The phone rang; he had half a mind to leave it off the hook. He’d heard enough bullshit about his nephew while he breathed much less… after. Now.

But he made a promise, and the only thing Wayne had left was his word. So he hobbled off the ground on aching knees with a rag in hand, away from the latest bit of graffiti to tag the trailer.

He snatched the phone off the cradle, ready to slam it right back down, when a robotic voice caused him to still.

“...All calls are logged and recorded and may be listened to by a member of Prison staff. If you do not wish to accept this call, please hang up now.”

More ringing, and then finally: “Is it true, what the papers are sayin’? Ed really kill that girl?”

He’d recognize that voice anywhere.

“That ain’t ever been Eddie, and you know it, Al.” Wayne grit his teeth--his brother was a glorified sperm donor; he had no right to claim fatherhood in any capacity. Eddie was Wayne’s through and through. He may not of held him when he was born, but he held him through every scraped knee and broken heart, and dammit, if that wasn’t parenthood what was the fucking point?

“Yeah…yeah, I know it. He’s never been much of a fighter.” A heavy silence crackled over the line, precious seconds ticking by. “...Say, do you think they’ll come callin’ for an interview from his old man? I’m sure there’s a pretty penny in it for--”

Wayne slammed the receiver down. And then again. And again.

Al didn’t know. He didn’t know that about Eddie and the empty grave. He didn’t know--

The black lacquer of an acoustic guitar caught his eye, leaned against the door like it had been set down but for a moment, it’s owner just around the corner.

He picked the instrument up with trembling hands. Eddie had fixed the old girl up, restringing her and polishing her until she gleamed. Wayne may have had her first, but she only really belonged to Eddie.

Callous fingers plucked at the strings, plucking at an unsung song. Nothing would come, and soon his vision blurred and hands shook too much to hold the guitar any longer.

He set her down back into her gentle reverie, like a casket into the earth, and hung his head and cried.

[im-still-watching-anime]

can’t STAND when “everything will be okay as long as we’re together” stories realize the devastation potential of separating them

[officially-unhinged]

Starting a Genshin lore/headcanon blog

So, I'm starting a Genshin blog that specifically is mostly me screaming about headcanons, canon lore, etc. so I decided that the first thing I'd do is open my askbox. I'm no lore encyclopedia, but this is my obsidian vault on it currently:

It has canon and headcanons, character stuff for characters I write (mostly guys because I'm transmasc and my partner steals all the women to roleplay them lol) and I've started the worldbuilding section. I've been writing Genshin pretty much since the game came out, so I have years worth of headcanons and such built up. Some of my characters/lore is pretty out there without context tbh, and this vault was me deciding it's about time I start actually writing all that down.

So, if anyone is curious, send me an ask about any topics/characters you want to see and I'll show you what I've written about them or go down a wiki rabbit hole and write it if I haven't already!

[midnight-els]

Did something Bad (started a new fic)

[burning-thistles-bt]

THANK GOD🙏🙏🙏 i really didnt like how bramble fell inlove w squirrel when dhe was an apprentice so im glad abt yhat

yeah, looking back with the context i have now i'm like-

*sucks in breath*

yikes.

....imma fix that real quick.

[toastedicarus]

Worst part about doing @raincheckpaincheck is that I have to read Ward, a fate I would not wish upon anyone

[cosmereplay]

I sent this ask earlier but I accidentally sent it to the wrong blog RIP me but anyway. I read What Happened With Lyn and it was really good! Your recs are always clutch

Glad you enjoyed it! There's lots of great Stormlight fics and I want to do my part to get them the attention they deserve 😎

If anyone else is interested in a canon compliant missing scene style fic about Kaladin and Lyn:

What Happened With Lyn by ImmaStick

Rated Teen, 40,000 words, RoW spoilers

In the year following the Battle of Thaylen Field, Lyn and Kaladin decide to try courting. All the while, Kaladin's mental health is slowly deteriorating.

A story of the progression of their relationship from beginning to end. Told primarily from Lyn's perspective.

Check it out!

[pa-pa-plasma]

I'm gonna be real, unless you start your argument with "I am a pygmy hippo zookeeper, here are my credentials" I'm not gonna read that much bullshit, especially when you're not here in good faith. no idea why you're so adamant on stagnating animal husbandry, but you should probably do some actual research & listen to the experts on this one.

Not to be a killjoy (though it is what I do best) but the unsafe and rough handling of a baby Pygmy hippo in a pretty substandard Thai zoo being meme-ed into something funny and cute really shows just how much groupthink plays into public perception of animal welfare.

Moo Deng shows avoidance, threat displays and stress around her keepers that are constantly man-handling her, blasting her with a hose and harassing her. The enclosure is mostly concrete, which is horrible for her soft feet. There looks to be some substrate but there doesn’t seem to be any areas for wallowing or deep water wading.

There’s also very easy access of this hippo to the public with no places to hide. I’d love if someone could shed more light on the enclosures but from what I’ve seen it’s not great.

Also the free contact and forcing into tubs that the keepers do is only going to create an avoidant and potentially aggressive and dangerous Pygmy hippo.

But the public happily overlook that because she’s cute. It’s a similar attitude with seals too.

Stop rewarding bad husbandry with clout. Baby animals deserve agency and respect and to grow up without getting harassed and feeling the need to defend themselves constantly.

[i-heart-yellowstone]

13 - Families Looking For Answers

Part 14

Raised Fair Share of Hell

Tag list @bvbwestfall @hcwthewestwaswcn @child-of-of-the-sunshine @elenavampire21 @keep-the-wolves-close @kmc1989 @tallrock35

Kayce rode up on his horse to the exact spot where his mother was killed after her horse collapsed onto her legs and seriously injured her where she ended up dying. He dismounted his horse slowly walking over to his father who was leaning on his palms that rested against the wooden fence. “You come here much?”

“Every chance I get. Been 20 years. No - 21. 21 years and it feels like yesterday. I still feel her, smell her. Been half a man without her. It’s not an excuse. I was just a better father when she was with me.” John bent his head towards the dirt underneath his boots simply staring at them before he finally looked back at his son. “Hope you never know what that feels like, son.”

Kayce raised his head up scanning his brown eyes over the bright blue sky above him. He shoved his hands inside the pockets of his brown jacket. “I already know what it feels like.”

“Alissa still refusing to talk to you?” He questioned his son.

Kayce gave him a one word answer. “Yeah.”

“What happened, son. You haven’t mentioned her or Faith, Kayce. So please help me understand what has happened between the two of you.”

The youngest Dutton child heavily sighed, avoiding his father’s gaze. “I don’t want to talk about this now, dad.”

“Well too bad because we’re going to talk about it right now.” John takes strong strides up till he is in his son’s face.

Kayce snaps getting in his face. “Her father hates me. He hates me for accidentally getting another girl pregnant before he knew his own daughter was having a baby of her own. And I’m starting to hate myself because I’m getting closer to realizing that you might have been right. You were right that I should have helped Monica while she carried the baby but after I shouldn’t have stuck around!”

John ran a hand down his face. “Listen to me, son. Alissa Lambert is probably the best thing for you like your mother was for me. You need to start realizing that before you lose her.”

“She wants nothing to do with me, dad. She looked me in the eye and said “I don’t hate you but I’m not sure I love you anymore”. I’m not seeing hope that we will get back together.”

John grabbed his son’s forearm forcing him to look him in the eye. “You need to do whatever you can to get her back. Don’t let her disappear from your life. You don’t deserve to be unhappy, neither does Alissa and especially not keep Faith from having both her parents in her life.”

“I’ll do the best I can, dad.” Kayce nodded his head before the pair turned around staring back at the empty field with nothing more to say.

Alissa’s pov

Closing the bar door I locked it up tight making sure the horse wouldn’t escape before I headed upstairs until I quickly entered the living room and flopped down on the main couch covering my face in my hands.

The past few days have felt like an eternity. My emotions have been all over the place after the intense fight that me and Kayce had when he told me about seeing me sleep with Ryan. I didn’t know what to feel about our argument.

Footsteps creaked against the old wooden floor of our old ranch farmhouse and I wasn’t able to know who it was until the person spoke to me. “Honey, can I talk with you?”

“I guess so, mom.”

My mother Margaert stepped around my legs and sat down gently beside me on the couch cushions. “How have you been feeling lately?”

“I really don’t want to talk about Kayce right now.”

She attempted to hide the question she was really asking me. “I’m not asking about him. I’m asking about you.”

“Mom.” I sent her a warningful glare dropping my hands from over my eyes. My mother was secretly a noisy person. She means well but I wasn’t really interested in having any conversation about me and my best friend. Griffin, my father, always wanted the best for his daughters. He had raised us like we were sons to him, more so than innocent daughters. Except he didn’t have much care about the youngest Dutton when he found out he got another girl pregnant.

She lowered her gaze to her hands in her lap. “Look I understand that you two aren’t getting along. But he is a good guy. You’ve been best friends for as long as I can remember so please just tell me what is going on between you two?”

“We had a fight after he saw me sleeping with one of his father's ranch hands.” I throw my hands up in the air already knowing she would have some response back but I didn't let her finish. “And I don't want to hear you scold me because Ryan and I had agreed it's no strings attached sex. We literally met at a bar and came back here whIle you and dad were asleep with Faith. Urgh! I just can't believe he was spying on me.”

My mother gently touched my shoulder. “I won’t tell your father about this. But I will tell you that I still see a future between you two.”

“How do you see a future between us when he keeps going back to Monica Long?”

She briefly paused biting her lip that she only ever did when she didn’t have an immediate answer. “I’d say give him some time. He’s raising two kids by two different women. He’ll figure out that he’s the son of a rancher and should be with a rancher's daughter sooner or later.”

“Yeah maybe you’re right, momma.” I slowly nodded my head in agreement with her.

My mother wrapped her arms around me hugging me for a few minutes whispering in my ear before we heard someone coming down the hallway. “Plus one thing is for certain. You and that Dutton boy will always look out for each other.”

“Lissa, there you are. There’s something we need to talk about on the front porch.”

Laying back against the couch I attempted to read her face to see what this conversation would be about. Unfortunately that was no luck given the fact that she was sending me a stone cold emotionless look. “Alana, I don’t want to talk about Kayce.”

“We’re not gonna talk about him. You are going to talk to him and finally settle this thing between you two once and for all.” My sister declared to me, snatching me up from the couch and dragging me upstairs and into her bedroom.

She locked the door behind me, reaching inside her dresser drawer taking out some forms that she pushed into my hands. “What is so important we have to talk about this very moment - huh - divorce papers, are you serious?”

“Look I am not the one who came up with the idea.”

I cut her off before she could say more. “Daddy gave you these to give to me didn’t he?”

“Yeah he did. He wouldn’t let me leave until I willingly took them from him.” She admits lowering her gaze to the boots she was wearing, seeing me throw down the papers on the bed before I shoved her out of my way leaving the bedroom. “Alissa, wait. Where are you going?”

Stomping down the hallway I grabbed my phone and care keys heading out the front door. “To the bar. I need to drink with Beth.” Slamming the front door I got in my truck to go pick her up , simply needing to distract myself from everyone being so focused on me and Kayce when both of our families had people coming after our generational ranches.

[im-still-watching-anime]

reading my drafts like damn this is so good i should really finish it and post it as i am actively closing the window

[saph-yells-into-the-void]

made a new blog but kinda nervous to share it lmao...

[freakrenaissance]

::sigh:: 😌 I absolutely love this fic! So dreamy & sexy...I love thinking of din getting some well deserved lovin in his new house on nevarro... and there's still more adventure to come 😍 looooove this. Miss him so much!

— only if for a night

[series masterlist]

din djarin x f!reader

Rated E - 6.5k

Tags: spoilers for 03.01, neighbor!din, established past encounter, flirting / mutual yearning, hot springs makeout, soft dom!din, outercourse, fingering, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, dirty talk, PiV

A/N: based on that little line from s03.01 about the hot springs. Many liberties taken with the creed.

When it appears the droid repair will take longer than expected, Din finds himself taking Karga up on the offer for the parcel of land.

And when you go to give your new neighbor a warm welcome - you never imagine that it would be the very man you haven’t been to stop thinking about.

He’d never been all that great at saying no.

It was easy when he was on the job - dealing with strangers. Questions rarely came when the saw him as just a symbol. Something to be feared.

A Mandalorian.

When it was a friend… well, that was a different story. Somehow, Karga had gotten under his skin. Twisting words around until he found himself agreeing to that parcel of land, out by the flats.

His stay was only temporary. That, he made sure of to mention. More than once, each time more firmly.

“Ah, but you always come back.” Karga had smiled, while they overlooked the city, “I know you have your business to attend to.”

Glancing down at Grogu, still spinning in the chair, “But wouldn’t it be nice to have a home to return to? To know you have a place, here?”

“I’ll think about it.” He had hedged, hands braced on his hips.

Somewhere along their walk later - their path had changed. Through the center of town, past the now deconstructed monument.

Before he knew it, he was in the middle of the tidy hut - Grogu wandering through the back door and into the sizable yard, as he found himself signing the deed.

“We’ll worry about the details later.” Karga had winked - and then he was gone.

Leaving Din alone, in his new space. Half-exasperated as he checks through the rooms.

A living space that flows into a small kitchen. Smoothed stone walls, a hallway that leads to a bathroom, with a full-sized sonic. The sharp right curve as the building continues back - a master bedroom taking up the last third of the L-shaped unit.

It might be nice to have a private place to sleep for a few days, while he waited for IG-11 to be repaired. His legs and back aching from sleeping in the starfighter.

And he’s never loved inns. Never trusted them completely - not even on Nevarro.

A small head peeks around the doorway, as he stands in the middle of the bedroom. The cotton curtains fluttering with the breeze, a view of the hot springs and the thick line of trees visible from the open window.

“What do you think, kid?” He finds himself asking.

Grogu coos happily, and his lips curve underneath his helmet.

“Yeah.” He hums. “I think so, too.”

———

“Finally sold that place, next to yours.”

You frown, glancing up from your datapad. Feet kicked up on the desk in your office, catching up on comms.

The news is unexpected, you hadn’t known anyone was looking at the property. Karga hadn’t pressed for you to put out any advertisements in the past couple weeks. Acted like he’s been saving it - but for what, you didn’t know.

“Would say I’m glad, but I was getting used to the private hot springs access.” You smile, removing your feet, pushing yourself up to greet him, “You need me to get the paperwork together?”

“No need, I handled it.”

That makes your eyebrow raise. Karga had certainly done a lot for Nevarro. The green trees outside - the expansion of the city - was more than enough proof.

But you had never seen him handle any of the minute details. Never had been his style.

No, that was your job.

“I’d like you to stop by though.” He says, fingers stroking the white bristles of his beard, “Make sure he’s doing alright. Explain about the expansions, I didn’t get a chance to cover that part.”

“Sure thing.” You nod, already collecting your things, “You know I would anyways, since he’s my neighbor and all.”

But Karga’s focus on this new buyer nudges at your attention - a beat passing, before you add, “Is it someone high profile? Should I know them?”

His answering look is knowing. And cryptic, as only he can be, “Something like that.”

Leaving your office with an amused smile - and you more curious than ever.

———

Your fist raps twice on the closed blast door. A hand smoothing down the front of your tunic, wrinkled with your brisk walk over from the office. The basket tucked under your arm, filled to the brim with goodies hand-picked from "the stash".

A crate stored in one of Karga's many rooms, filled with gifts from shops in town, potential business partners, visiting travellers.

Anything expensive he accepted for himself - the rest you collect, with the dual purpose of handling it for him, and finding a use for the item.

Creating welcome kits for all those who are new to the city, things to make their houses feel more like homes. Blankets to fend off the evening chill. Vouchers for a warm meal at the local cantina. Dried meats and fruits - trinkets for the children if there are any.

Fingers crossed that your new neighbor is someone nice. Not like that Weequay you had roomed next to when you had lived downtown - keeping you up late with their band practice. Chords loudly strum on their hallisket, somehow always off-key. Overly rude, whenever you had gently tried to bring it up.

Back then, you woke with the dawn, due down at the new school just after daybreak. Rough did not even begin to cover it.

Moving out here, the change in your duties, had been nice. Certainly a walk every morning, but the privacy was well appreciated.

Quiet nights after spending the day keeping up with the whirlwind that was Greef Karga. Soaking away the stress in the small clusters of hot springs that make their way along the flats.

No one answers, so you inch around the side of the building to check the back. One of the many bonuses about being this far out - the large yards and extra space. Past the narrow landing pad - the shining chrome ship that rests on it.

Your nose wrinkles at the sleek lines, the overall ostentation.

Stars, if it's another 'Karga'...

Pushing the thought aside as you call out, ahead, "Hello! Anyone home?"

"Back here." A voice replies, sounding muffled.

You’re rounding the corner of the hut, when you freeze. Only the vice-like grip on the handle keeping the basket from tumbling across the stone patio.

Because you do know him.

Intimately.

Though it’s been a while. Over a year, maybe two?

But there was no mistaking the shine of his silver armor. The little friend that’s still by his side.

“Oh.” You greet him, intelligently.

His helmet turns at your voice, his own form going still for a long moment. The child lets out a coo, his small head turning as he leans over the edge of the water, splashing the surface.

“Hi. Karga sent me over. I mean, I would have come anyways.” You clear your throat as you find your voice - hiking a thumb over your shoulder, “Seeing as we’re neighbors, and all.”

“Neighbors.” He repeats, his voice a low monotone.

It’s so strange to hear it again.

You’d spent ages thinking about it. About that night. It wasn’t supposed to be anything more than blowing off steam.

Back then, you had still worked at the school. Filling in as the teaching droid became accustomed to the class - still developing the emotional intelligence part of its AI.

You had been an aide, making sure things ran smoothly. And it had, until those few days that the Child had been in attendance.

It still makes you smile to remember the bits of blue cookie smeared on his face.

That’s when you had met the Mandalorian, picking up his child. And then running into him again, later at the cantina.

Ending up in his ship, even later after that. Staying longer than you meant to, until the indigo sky was streaked with pink and grey.

You still think about the cold bite of his armor against your bare skin. The low rasp of his voice, lips forming around rough words of praise that had burrowed into your brain.

Just one night, but it had stayed in your memory for the hundreds that came after.

“Uh, yes.” You snap back to reality, as you jiggle the basket. Walking over, because it was too late to flee - setting it down on the low stone table.

Your face heats - you're not sure how to word this. Unsure if it was more awkward to get out with it, or pretend like this was the first time you’ve met.

After a moment, you make your decision. Better to just be honest.

Your hand extends, as you give him your name. A small cringe of a smile, as you hedge, "I don't know if you remember-"

His answer cuts you off, as his hand takes yours, "I do."

Oh.

The vocoder makes it impossible to tell the exact tone of his response. If it was a good memory, or if he was disappointed in this strange reunion.

You’re saved from the awkwardness of not knowing, when the child toddles over. A wide grin spreads over your face, plucking a treat out of the basket.

“Just look at you!” Sinking to your knees - you glance up, before handing the piece of candy over, “Is this okay?”

The Mandalorian’s head dips in a nod, a heat in your cheeks as you turn back. Placing it into the little outstretched hands, as you marvel.

“You’ve really grown!”

His ears wiggle, the peek of his teeth as he smiles.

Not bigger, but certainly more confident. A sweetness shining, more certain of the steps he takes. A tightness in your chest, as he shows it to Mando - clutched tight in his fist.

“That’s right.” He replies patiently, “Tell her ‘thank you’, Grogu.”

Grogu makes a sound that could pass as a thanks, making his way to the rock border of the small garden.

Leaving you looking up at the Mandalorian. The angle doing something to you - all that shining armor. You on your knees.

His head, still tilting down. Cocked, your way.

But then, you’re remembering why you’re there. Pushing yourself to your feet, burning with embarrassment.

“Uh, right. The details.” You rush, turning away. Back towards the border of the property, your finger pointing, “The hot springs runs through your back yard and mine. Some huts are lucky enough to have their own.”

A shrug, as you turn back, “But most have to share. It’s great this time of year, it gets chilly at night. He’ll love it.”

Your head tilts towards Grogu, still munching away. Mando nods, slowly walking over to stand beside you, looking out at the natural springs. The thick trees above, making a sort of barrier to the huts behind it.

“Oh, and your house.”

The last detail.

“They’re built so you can add on. It’s a good size for one right now. But if you need more space there’s room on the sides, or add another floor.” You gesture to the spots, so he can picture the expansion.

“Should be pretty easy. You would just tell me or Karga, and there’s a couple droids that have it down to a science.”

His head tilting to look where you point. A beat, before he asks, “Have you added onto yours?”

Your eyes meet his visor, surprised.

Lips pressing together as you think about it, your head shaking. Smiling sheepishly.

“No. Like I said… it’s uh, good for one.”

He hums at that, but doesn’t ask anything else. Nor does he look away, his hands resting on his hips.

A dozen questions on the tip of your tongue. Holding them back because you’re not sure how to ask them. Not wanting the answer to be different from what you’re hoping.

So instead, you just smile.

“The last step is usually a tour, but I’m sure we can skip that part. Wouldn’t want to take up any more of your time.”

There’s a beat, while he seems to think about it. A hesitance, before he nods.

“Right. Thank you, we should be fine.”

Almost a reluctance.

But you’re certain you’re imagining it.

———

It’s lucky that he didn’t take you up on the tour. You barely make the walk back to your house before your comm is beeping - an emergency that has you running back into town.

A no-show from a contractor, for a job that needed to be done today. The afternoon is spent with your sleeves rolled up, helping out yourself, the work bleeding into the evening.

The morning becoming a blur, as you drag yourself home. Just thinking about sinking into the springs for a couple minutes, resting your aching feet.

Grabbing a ration bar as you change into one of your suits, your robe and a towel thrown over your shoulder. Leaving the door open, letting the cool night air into your house as you head towards the back.

Your things dumped on a low wooden bench, as you stretch - arms high above you head. A low, throaty groan as you step into the hot water, finding your favorite nook to rest in.

It’s only then, in the water with the skies above, that you think about the Mandalorian. A thrill at seeing him again, even if it didn’t go anywhere.

With his line of work, you can’t pretend you weren’t worried. Hadn’t been thinking about him, hoping he and his son were alright.

Hoping for other things, as well.

When your eyes finally open - you freeze.

The object of your affections sitting a few yards away from you, supplies spread out on the stone table. In the middle of cleaning a long rifle, a piece of cloth in his hands.

Seemingly frozen as well, his helmet tipped your way. The moment stretching out, until you’re letting out a little “oh”, dipping down into the water.

“Sorry,” You give him a little wave - unsure what else to do, “Didn’t see you out here.”

Moving closer to the edge, your hands bracing on the raised lip, “I can go. Long day, just needed a minute.”

“No.” He shifts then, a gloved hand going flat, “Please, stay.”

You’re pleased. To continue soaking, and to continue taking him in. Your chin resting on the curl of your fingers, watching him work.

It’s quiet - the rustle of the leaves above. A chirp of the crickets, the summer days starting to tip into autumn.

“What happened today?” Mando asks you, your head lifting.

Frowning - the question loaded. Did he mean earlier? Like, when you first rounded the corner into his backyard?

He takes pity on you, “You said today was long.”

“Mmm.” You sigh, now understanding. Biting back a smile, pleased that he’s asking about you, “I guess it wasn’t too bad. Just putting out a few fires for Karga.”

He hums, like he understands your implication.

But then, you’re remembering that he’s friends with him. Your nose crinkles, “Not that I am complaining. He’s done a lot for this city, we’re all grateful.”

“You can be honest with me.” His tone sounds amused, and you relax.

The tools set down, as he moves closer. The slow creak of his armor, the overhead lights glinting as he lower himself to one of the chairs that rest close to the edge.

Close enough that he could step into the water, the steam that rises up in the chilly evening air. His helmet tipping down to where you sit.

Your eyebrow lifts, “You thinking about coming in? I can close my eyes for you.”

Remembering what he said, before. The reason why he stayed wrapped in his armor, his helmet always firmly fixed in place.

His head tilts, considering. A long moment - as you hope - before he answers.

“Not tonight.”

The disappointment pools in your belly - but you move on quickly as he asks, “How long have you been working for him? I didn’t see you at the school.”

He had looked. That moment when he walked through town - later, when they ran into the pirates. A worry, fueling him to act when they had threatened to take that drink in the renovated building, where the old saloon used to dwell.

The disappointment melts into fondness, “A while. Close to a year? It’s fun, he can just be a lot, you know?”

He makes a sound of agreement, knowing full well.

“Very convincing and influential. I find myself doing all kinds of stuff just because he asks,” You laugh, your chin cupped in your hand, “He’s got his eyes on some big prizes. High Magistrate. Mining and trade routes.”

Your gaze drifts, going far away, “It’s great for the city. The expansion, all the money coming in. He loves it. The job, the finery of it all. But, personally… I’m not sure it’s what I want.”

The words trail off, as you get lost.

“What do you want?” His voice brings you back.

You blink, looking up at him, “I just want a place to call my own. Something just for me.”

Head tilting towards you little hut, as you start to feel a little self-conscious, “I’m sure that sounds stupid.”

His helmet stays focused on you, as he answers.

“No. I think I understand.”

———

When it came to this hut, he had floundered. Finding himself agreeing, even though he knew he’d be gone again in days. Now, there’s a question that lingers. Heavy on his mind and heart as the hours bleed into the next.

But this time, he knows what he wants. When the question comes, he’ll have the answer.

The next evening, he’s waiting for you.

Surprising you, seeing him in just the flightsuit, as you exit your hut. Pausing mid-step when you see how he lingers. Self-conscious now, in his own way.

Your question comes, again.

“You coming in?”

This time, he nods. Fingers lingering at the zipper on his chest - the anticipation curling in your stomach as you watch.

His hands going still. Wanting this, but the sting of his betrayal to the creed is still a fresh, aching wound. Letting someone see his face. Even though it was the only way.

You head inclines towards a spot in the back of the springs. Where the trees are thick, blocking out the twinkling stars above.

“I can wait there.” You tell him, “I won’t look.”

It’s the last assurance he needs.

He nods.

Making you way to the back, sinking down into the springs. Nervous and excited and thrilled, as you find the spot - where he joins you soon after.

Helmet still on, you can hear the buzz of his groan as the hot water hits his skin. Easing the aches in his back, from the hours of flying.

It’s a little narrow for two, but you fit together - facing each other, under the trees. Where the night and the shadow of the branches weave together - until you can only see the soft, loose outline of his shape.

You can’t believe he got in. Fingers itching to reach out and touch - but you hold back. Still not knowing how he feels, if he wants the same thing as you.

Instead, you fill the silence with soft questions. About him this time - where he’s been, what’s happened since you last saw him.

Some of the tension easing.

And slowly, he tells you. How they became separated. How he had gotten him back, only for the reunion to be cut short. Never saying how the absence effected him - but after seeing their bond today, you knew it had to be hard.

Finally, about their reunion.

With each story, each confession - you find yourselves moving closer. Inching along the natural stone seating until the feet of space dwindle down to mere inches between you.

You wonder if he can hear your heart. The way it thuds in your chest, as his knee brushes yours.

It’s quiet now, other than the ripple of water as your leg stretches out - foot resting on the outcropping of rock he sits on.

"I'm not staying long. Just a few days." The rasp of his voice breaks the silence. His leg brushes yours again.

A soft warning. Letting you know that this would be like last time.

But it’s not the same. Not really.

Your lips press together - the peek of your tongue as you wet them, "You'll be back. You just bought a house here."

"Yes.” He acknowledges, “But I don't know when-“

“I don’t mind”. Your own confession comes easily, in the dark. Leg shifting until your foot taps against his thigh, against bare skin, "Stop overthinking things. When was the last time you had some fun?"

There’s a low breath at your question, a buzz through his vocoder.

"Not since I last saw you."

You know he doesn't mean yesterday. The tickle in your stomach turns into full-on butterflies as your fingers drift - bridging the small gap between you. Finding his on the stone.

Fingertips dragging across knuckles, the back of his hand. Against smooth, bare skin. Before he moves - his hand curling around your wrist, tugging you forward.

A startled yelp as he hauls you into his lap, your thighs bracketing his - shins pressing into the bench beneath you.

Hands steadying themselves on his broad shoulders. His own slowly sliding over your thighs, up to your hips. Fingers kneading soft flesh as you shift, fitting yourself snug against him.

Feeling him.

The clothed, thick curve that’s pressing against your core. A soft sound in your throat as you rock your hips unconsciously against his cock, finally putting pressure on the spot that has been aching for him.

“Maybe you can remind me how.” He rasps, his own hips tilting up, grinding.

Your laugh is strangled as you meet him. Relief in many more ways than one as you brace your hands on his shoulders. Moving more purposely this time as you roll your hips.

Finding the spot that makes you shudder, nails sinking into his skin. His own hands grasping at you, the sharp hiss of breath through his helmet.

It’s too dark to see more than outlines, but you still find his visor. Trying to imagine where his eyes would be, before yours drop down - admiring the rare glimpse of his neck.

His shoulders, broad and strong. Fingers touching features you can’t make out - the coarse, peppered-grey curls on his chest. Decades of scars, each with a story. His form slightly softened by age, but still moving you effortlessly.

The grip on your hips loosen, a hand drifting up. Leaving droplets of water on your skin as his fingers skim your waist, then higher.

A knuckle brushing your breast, over the top of your suit. Teasing at the edge.

“Gods, yes.” You sigh, leaning back to give him room.

To watch him tug the cloth to the side, then down. Baring a breast, and then the other. Fingers dipping down to the water, dragging a wet thumb over the pebbled peak.

You’re clenching, your pace picking up. Leaning into his touch, grinding your pussy against him.

That low voice of his, encouraging you, “Keep riding me, mesh’la. Fuck, just like that.”

It makes you shudder. Pleasure coils in your head, the build-up making your thoughts hazy. So close to what you need, but not quite enough.

A frustrated whine slides through your teeth, your eyes lifting to his. A hand letting go to dip down, between your thighs - but he catches it with his own.

Bringing it back up to his shoulder, before his dips below the waistband. To where you’re wet, slick with arousal. Whimpering when his fingers circle your clit, making you mindless. Prone to babble, the words hushed in the quiet night.

“Stars, I missed you. Feel just as good as I remember.”

A beat, where his fingers linger. Just for a second, before he’s shifting beneath you - increasing the sweet pressure.

“You thought about this?”

Your eyelids flutter closed, your chest crushed against his. Feeling the slick slide of his fingers, exactly the touch you needed.

“Mhm. All the time.” The confession come easy, drunk as you are on pleasure, “How hard you made me come, how fucking good you are with your fingers.”

The praise sinks into his skin, smoothing over the thin cracks of insecurity. He had thought of you, too. Often.

Fucking his fist to the memory, so like the way your hand worked between your own thighs at night.

Just a night but it had felt like so much more. A connection.

He has you close. It almost feels like time is ticking down, each press of his fingers bringing you towards the end. An arm wraps around you, pinning you against him as you gasp.

More praise falling, just for him.

“Oh, you’re going to make me come. Just like that, please-”

His breath harsh as he concentrates, as your face buried into his neck. Muffling your cry as you’re brought over that edge, going stiff in his arms.

Gasping against his skin, as he coos in your ear. The words muted through the haze, buzzing against your skin. Finding bliss, in this dark corner of the springs.

A long moment of silence, as you find your limbs again.

“Did you mean what you said?” He asks, as your cheek presses against his helmet.

Cool against your hot skin, a soft sigh as you relax against him. Embarrassed, now your head is a little more clear, “What, that I fantasized about you?”

Mando makes a sound, a low laugh, “When you said you’d close your eyes. Did you mean that?”

Your head tilts back, so you can see him. Where his face would be, your palms skimming down his arms, “Yeah, I meant that.”

He stands then, taking you with him - your legs still hooked around his waist. Walking you to the side of the springs before your feet touch down, fingers curling around your wrist - tugging them up until your hand covers your eyes.

“Is your house the same as mine?”

Helping you out of the pool as you answer, his hand around your other wrist, “Mirrored.”

Guiding you to the back door, taking a second in the dark to wipe you both down with the towels you left.

Before he’s pulling you deeper, through the kitchen. Back to your bedroom. It’s still dark when your back is pressing against the matress, his hips between your thighs.

The light is low here. A string of ambient bulbs twinkling above your bed, casting the room in a soft glow. He pauses, as you shift below him.

Looking debauched, where you lay against the mattress. Bare legs, you core just covered by the cloth bottoms. The peek of flushed, tight nipples where he has tugged your top aside.

Practically begging for his mouth, the brush of his tongue.

He had been planning to take you in the darkness. Now, he can’t bear the thought of not being able to watch you fall apart with his own eyes.

“Can I blindfold you?” He husks, fingers trailing up your thighs.

You don’t know why he’s asking, but you agree, “Sure. If that’s what you want.”

“Yes.” The tips changing course, tracing the cut of your swimsuit, along the inside of your thigh, “Do you have something I could use?”

Already, the lack of sight has you on edge in the best way - your legs inching further apart. The hand not covering your eyes reaching up - searching beneath the nest of pillows.

Fingers catching on the elastic of the sleeping mask, as you tug it down. Another gift that Karga had discarded, one that found its way into your pocket, along with the matching silk robe, the jar of bath oils.

He helps you fit it into place, his thumb smoothing over your cheek - as your sight dissolves into true darkness.

Gasping, as he tugs at the ties of your top - baring you. A pneumatic hiss that you don’t recognize - ears straining as something heavy is set down on the side table.

The wet swipe of a tongue against the curve of your breast, flattening over your nipple. Wrapping around to suck, teeth just barely scraping the sensitive bud.

“Fuck.” You hiss, reaching for him. Grasping strong shoulders that hover over you, as his knuckles trap the other, gently pinching.

His helmet. He took it off, for you.

The weight of his actions crash into you, a tightness in your chest that has you gasping. His groan sounding pretty as presses an open-mouth kiss against your sternum, the sound unfiltered.

Another, as he moves down.

“Wanted to fuck you in the hot springs,” Fingers catch on the waistband of your suit bottoms, your hips lifting as he pulls them down, “Tug these off of you, just like this. Would you have let me?”

You moan, unable to help it - your answer eager, “Yes. Anything you want.”

He hums in approval - broad hands nudging under your thighs, another tug as he pulls you towards the edge of your bed.

Even with the mask your eyes close, a thrill of excitement as you wait for the press of his cock. Aching for him to fill you, your mind taking you back to last time.

How he had sunk into you. The sweet stretch until the cool armor on his thighs pressed against your skin from behind.

“But there’s something else I wanted more.” His voice breaks into your thoughts, bringing you back.

And it’s not his cock that kisses your cunt. It’s his lips, pressed against the slick, swollen flesh. Your hips flex as you whimper, his hand sliding to press against your stomach.

Pinning you down, as he groans against your pussy. Tongue pointing to flick against your clit before he pulls back. The scratch of facial hair against your thigh as he presses a kiss there.

“Thought about you, too. Dreamed about tasting your sweet little cunt. Making you come on my tongue.”

His mouth following his words, warm where the rest against your skin. Taking his time as he spreads you open with his fingers. Tongue tracing from the tight bud of your clit, down.

Pressing the tip into you. Tasting your release, your slick arousal, as you reach for him. Fingers sinking into soft curls - another realization, another small detail about him that you tuck inside your heart.

You tug on them as he sighs against you, fucking you with his tongue. Slipping back up to wrap his lips around your clit and suck, while his fingers nudge at you.

Sinking the tip of one inside, teasing. Knuckles deep in your greedy cunt - first one, and then another. A low hum against your slit as you whine. Fingers crooking against the spongey spot that had you keening last time.

The combination is too much. Senses heightened to an extreme - each messy flick and press of his tongue sending sparks down your spine to collect and pool low in your belly.

Hearing each and every groan he makes, the rough timbre of his voice. Your own moans joining his, twisting around each other like your fingers in his curls.

The words panted out, achingly desperate.

“Oh, fuck-”

“Please, right there-”

Each breath shorter than the last. Your hands scrambling, leaving his locks to grip onto the pillow, as your hips flex against his mouth.

His fingers pounding steadily against a spot that makes you see stars. Chin and lips smeared with your slick as he coaxes you over the edge.

“Osik. I can feel you clenching around my fingers, mesh’la.” He groans, eyes fixed on where you take him, the silky shine of his fingers.

Flicking up to your face - wanting to watch you fall apart for him with his own eyes, “Want you to come for me, want to feel you gush on my fingers.”

And with a gasp, you do.

Your senses fading to a buzzing, white noise as your hips lift off the bed. Coming hard, pulsing around thick fingers as he watches, tilting his head to press his tongue against your clit. Feeling you there, each little thud where he’s pressed flat against you.

Leaving you gasping, loose-limbed. The sound turning warm and happy with the elation that spreads, settling over your limbs.

His hand swipes across his chin, as he pushes himself up. Arms wrapping under your thighs again, scooting you back onto the bed.

Achingly hard as he peels off the bottoms he still wears. Slick-stained fingers wrapping around his cock, the rough groan of relief as he jerks from base to flushed tip.

More than pleased by the way he has you smiling. Contented and floating, just from his fingers - the inexperienced swipe of his tongue.

He’d learn, for you. Let your fingers twist in his hair, tug him to the right spot until it’s all that he knows.

For now, he soaks you in. His knees pressing into the bed, hoisting your thighs over them. Angling his cock down, to tap against your pussy - a string of your slick clinging to the tip.

“Fuck, just look at you.”

Feeling it’s wet heat, the way you’re arching into him already. Eyes greedy as he presses into you, watching the tip sink in.

How the tight grip of your cunt chokes him - inching in further, before he’s retreating. Pulling back, sliding the soaked tip across your folds again.

Your teeth grit, your hands searching for him. Curling around his wrists, as his hands hold your hips in place.

“Mando, please. Don’t tease me.”

He sucks in a breath through clenched teeth. Tonight, you’re his. Days of uncertainty - wondering if you had thought of him the way he did of you, culminating in this moment of desire that burns through him.

Not wanting to hear the name that follows him like a shadow.

“Din.” He grits out. Something tight in his chest loosening, “My name. It’s Din Djarin.”

Your lips wrap around the gift, making him throb when you parrot it back to him. That need making itself known, as he sinks into you again.

“Want you to stay it when you come.” His hands yank your hips, as his snap forward. Seating himself fully as you moan - as he buries his cock in you.

Din’s voice sounding tight, as he adds, “You got that?”

“Yes, Din.” You sigh dreamily, clenching around him as he moans.

Letting him set a rhythm that starts slow - lets you feel each inch as he drags himself out, before snapping in. Picking up as you cling to him, shifting until your legs are wrapping around his waist.

Hovering over you, tucking you beneath him as his hips snap against yours. Your hands wandering - sliding across his shoulders. Thumbs sweeping over the hollow of his throat, down through the coarse hair across his chest.

So much skin, bared for you to touch. You want to know every inch. Wish you could see - but you’re not that greedy. Happy to take this reunion for every ounce that it was.

But he leans into it. The warmth of your hand, the way your thighs wrap around him. That stiff hold of his shoulder and back loosening, as he lowers himself further.

Unable to resist the urge to see what it’s like. To press his lips against your cheek, feeling the bite of your fingernails when you sigh in surprise.

The whimper as he moves closer to your mouth, until his lips are ghosting over yours. Your head tilting up to chase him in the dark.

His name, once again.

“Din.”

There’s a snarl that rises in this chest. Muffled by the time it reaches to his throat, as his lips finally press against yours.

Starting slow, like the rut of his hips. Just a soft brush, before he draws back for a breath. Coming back for another, as you sigh and arch into him. Lips parting as his tongue brushes the seam, his hand slipping up to cup the back of your head.

He tastes like you. The sweet tang of your pussy on his tongue. Delving into your mouth as he fucks you, as you can do little more than just cling to him.

Soft moans and the needy press of your mouths layering with the wet sound of your joining. The angle stroking his cock against the spot that his fingers found, stealing your thoughts.

Not even realizing it’s your own voice, the panting “please, please-”. Each breath after a soft “oh” that gets sharper, higher, with each gasp.

“Fuck, that’s it.” The voice in your ear sends a thrill down your spine. Joining that familiar fire that pools in your belly, “You’re taking me so well. Are you going to come for me again?”

His lips press against your throat, where your heart flutters. Feeling the bitten-back whine, as your legs clench around him.

Bracing yourself for the pleasure that’s about to tear through you, the spark that starts down low before it races down your limbs.

“Give me one more, cyar’ika.” He rasps, and you can’t help but obey.

That strung-tight string snaps. His name a sob on your lips as the orgasm crashes over you. A pleased hum against your skin as his thrusts snap harder - the rhythm sloppy as you tremble in his embrace.

Din’s breath is hot against your neck, his forehead pressed to your cheek. Feeling the tight clench of your wet cunt around his cock - his fingers biting into your hip as he seeks his own end.

“Where do you want me?” He grits out, “I’m not going to last, feel so good-”

Your legs tighten around his hips, pushing him deeper. Fingers lacing around his neck, the tip of one finding his curls again.

“Come in me.” You beg - hearing his rough groan at your words, “Still have the implant.”

“Fuck.”

He had felt it, last time. You had guided his fingers to the ridge beneath your skin, in that moment where you waited with baited breath for his cock to fill you.

Emptying himself the first time from behind, bent over some crates in the hull. The second, hours later. On your back, like this - but he had been armored then, your bare skin reflecting off the beskar as he stood between your thighs.

But now, your limbs are tangled. The heel of a foot pressed against his ass, his body rolling against yours. The messy press of his mouth against your skin.

A hiss, as he inhales.

Hands gripping onto you, as that breath is released in a rough groan, your own name on his lips. A sharp thrust as he buries himself deep, a shallow rock of his hips with each flex of his cock as he spills into you. The warmth flooding your walls, as he moves until you’ve taken all of him.

Until the aching, burning need is extinguished - as he relaxes like you did. Your nails scratching up his back and into his hair, a rumble of contentment as he shifts onto his side, and then back, pulling you with him.

Reaching down with one hand to pull the plug of the lights from the wall, blanketing the room in darkness. Fingers gentle as he lifts the mask. The brush of his lips against your eyelids.

Your cheek pressing against his chest, as his fingers trace patterns on your skin.

“I’m really happy I got to see you.” You yawn - blissfully limp, as you curl against him, “Even if you have to go.”

Sighing, as you arm drapes across his waist, “I’ll keep an eye on things until you come home.”

Home.

He can't pretend he hasn't already thought about it. What you had told him earlier, about these huts.

How the structures could change, evolve.

Spanning the space between your properties - expanding the walls and connecting hallways until the two houses become one. Truly a haven, a place where he could see himself growing old.

Not now, but... maybe someday.

Once this final quest was completed. Once he was redeemed. A true Mandalorian, once more.

But, that would be some time away. He has no idea what he will find on Mandalore. How long it will take to find Sundari, uncover the mines. It was no use to dwell on that future, when everything was uncertain.

So, instead… he finds himself silently hoping that the Anzellans will take just a little while longer.

Thanks for reading! Would love to know what you think 💖

mesh’la - beautiful / osik - shit / cyar’ika - sweetheart