#he just slides across the deck and right off the ship. not even blinking or moving. he just goes 'oh! im sliding now'

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

Since the Neighborhood are adventurers, I'd like to imagine they travel by sea a fair amount of times too! A nice boat trip while occasionally breaking out into a sea shanty, eh? (And for gits and shiggles, to keep up with the whole.. Eddie in water joke, I imagine the poor guy is clumsy enough to go overboard. He may not be unconscious during it, but it wouldn't make it any less funny with the group desperately trying to pull him back aboard-)

OH OH OH allow to ramble at length about this!!! what an idea!!! i fucking love boats & the ocean & being on the water so this ask is checking all my boxes rn

first i imagine that the length of their trips varies wildly, along with the quality due to the glorious variation in weather & bodies of water. and i'm choosing to believe this universe uses tall ships instead of like... fantasy steam ships. because i fucking love tall ships. the sails, the rigging, the elegance... an absolute bitch to maintain and maneuver <3

i imagine that depending on the ship, captain, and size of the crew, the Neighborhood may be required to help out to earn their keep. especially since they're a crew of nine eight, and some ships are woefully understaffed!

I'd imagine that Poppy sometimes takes the cook's job if the crew is currently lacking one (or if the cook wants a fucking break, jeebus it's a demanding job. there's a reason ship cooks in moves/tv are always stern & serious). Barnaby can probably charm his way into doing nothing but provide music/entertainment (much to Sally's aggravation). everyone else are plain deckhands

of course i imagine that that doesn't always happen! plenty of ships are probably content to just take their coin and tranport them. some of them (Eddie, Poppy) may still wheedle their way into helping out though. they strike me as characters that can't Not help

who i imagine loves their little water journeys: Barnaby, Wally, Sally, Wormie

neutral: Frank, Julie

hates it: Poppy, Howdy, Eddie

allow me to provide reasoning!!

Barnaby's impeccable balance probably means that he's stable as a rock even in choppy waters, and i'm reasoning that he doesn't get seasick either. his vestibular system is as solid as his sea legs! he probably finds the whole experience relaxing as anything. He gets to just recline on the bowsprit's base or wherever he isn't in the way & smoke/play his accordion/nap.

Wally just has such a love of life and new things, so why wouldn't he love being on the water? it's different! it's new every time! there are ample things to learn about and do! Home probably keeps his systems stable so that he doesn't have to deal with seasickness. though it probably takes him a little bit to find his sea legs... catch him stumbling around like a lil newborn lamb. sometimes he is facedown on the deck <3 i imagine he'd enjoy going aloft!

Sally would probably love the inherent romanticism and adventure of it all. Who knows what dangers and glory they may face! I bet she writes up a storm during this time - plenty of story material! food for the imagination! what does Anne say... Scope for the imagination, i believe! i bet she also loves having a captive audience. Literally. they're stuck on this ship with her <3

so many lines for Wormie to climb... so many little places to crawl into... new people to trick into giving her treats... down time where the Neighborhood is relaxing in one place. abundant time for affection!

Frank probably doesn't have strong feelings about it. It's a boring ship with no bugs or things to do. Except when he manages to rope crew members into having a lil impromptu fight club. Or when the Neighborhood is put to work - i wonder if he'd find the maintenance soothing or pleasant... or if he'd relish in the hard work of pulling lines

Julie is likely in a similar boat (ha) as Frank. once the initial "wow! whoah!" wears off, it can get boring! and games are limited - there's only so much you can do on a ship (depending on the size of the ship of course), and there might be strict rules to keep passengers out of the crew's way and to lower risk. She probably entertains herself by "bothering" her friends and the crew & cloudgazing.

Poppy... do i need to explain? wooden ship on the ocean, which i understand can be terrifying. who knows what lurks below the waters? if the weather will change on a dime? if one of the flammable things on board catches fire? if the ship hits something? etc. I imagine it's impossible to get her to go above decks. They have to literally push her statue-frozen body onto the ship when they first board

Howdy! honestly i just think it'd be really fucking funny if he gets Violently seasick! like, curled into a ball in his bunk & involuntarily making agonized noises. he sounds like a ghost w/ all the pained moaning. his sea legs suck unless he stances all four at the right distance to anchor himself in place. he's a weak, sickly, fragile little thing, take mercy on him... he doesn't even have the strength left to swindle or sell...

Eddie. now we get to the point of anon's ask - his sea legs would be nonexistent. he's staggering and stumbling all over the place. the ship just barely tilts and he's smacking into a mast or careening across the deck. and of course, hitting the guardrails at precisely the right speed/angle to allow him to tumble overboard. i bet this happens enough that every time the Neighborhood is so much as on a dock, there is at least one person either holding his arm or acting as a barrier between him and the water. as soon as they get on any ship, he's immediately sent below decks. any attempt he makes to come up is instantly blocked.

there's a lot of both comedic and angst potential there. small ship, calm waters? comedic. some neighbors are playing cards, there's on off-screen splash & Frank immediately sighs and gets up all "god damn it, Eddie-". lmao im imagining him floating there and rapid-fire blabbering in fear 'cause there's a shark (it's not a shark. it's a dolphin. everyone on board is so unimpressed.) he's sobbing in fear as they pull him in <3

but angst? imagine there's a storm. imagine it's an all-hands-on-deck situation, every available hand is needed, and Eddie is strong as fuck - he'd be a monster at pulling lines. probably wouldn't even need to sweat them. but a violently rocking ship, slick decks, maybe even waves splashing over the deck... oof i can so easily imagine Eddie slipping & sliding right over the side. maybe while the others watch. maybe they try to grab him, but they're too late. and in such a horrible storm, there's not much they can do - it's dark, the water is incredibly turbulent, the ship can't turn around easily, there's torrential rain. a high stress situation! i'm imagining Frank grabbing a lifebuoy, firmly fastening it to a pin, and then throwing himself overboard after Eddie. something to think about! (i'm imagining that after the storm clears up enough, everyone rushes to the side to check. Eddie & Frank are trailing after the boat, lashed to the buoy and exhausted. maybe a little banged up, but overall fine!)

and then yeah.... oh the shanties Barnaby could lead... the whole ship sings! and then them all in their bunks (or in their hammocks!) in the [insert term for living quarters here, it can vary] when its sleepytime. y'all would not believe the shenanigans that can occur in the fo'c'sle (or the main hold, basically wherever the ship's sleeping quarters are), especially before actual sleep occurs. peak silly time.

there's a lot of potential here, thank you anon!

like now i'm thinking - what about sea monsters? or jobs that Require them to go on the water, as in the job takes place on a ship? ocean battles! ocean searches!

#since eddie is pretty much banished to the holds no matter what #i imagine he & poppy are the main neighbors looking after howdy in his frail sickly state #im imagining eddie sitting on the bunk with howdy in his lap #howdy feels someone petting his hair and blearily cracks his eyes open to be all '...barn...?' #barnaby: *is actually eddie* #howdy: *groans & squeezes his eyes shut* oh god not You... #eddie: *mildly offended* hey now... #im also having a lot of fun imagining frank & eddie after they get reeled in after the storm debacle #they'd just flop onto the deck. exhausted. waterlogged. still holding hands though #they'd probably end up with colds... snifflin and sippin tea while cuddled up in a bunk under the same blanket... #everyone hovering nervously because for quite a while there they actually thought they Lost them both for good.... #SO MUCH POTENTIAL #i imagine that howdy actively avoids jobs where he knows they'll have to take a boat #oh his dismay and horror on the times he comes along and they have to unexpectedly go on the water.... #even if its just a short trip across a river you know howdy is bent over the stern & feeding the fishes #LMAO WAIT #im imagining wally going over too but in a really funny way. he's standing normally but when the ship tilts too hard #he just slides across the deck and right off the ship. not even blinking or moving. he just goes 'oh! im sliding now' #and everyone turns just in time to watch him vanish over the side w/ perfectly posture #i think this is a situation where barnaby would toss his hat to the side and jump right in after him lmao #but in a funny way! the waters are Calm! the ship is Slow! he climbs right back on with wally (perfectly fine) slung over his shoulder #home lectures wally the best they can w/ the language barrier <3 and barn resolves to teach wally how to swim #because apparently that's not in his skillset! he just falls in the water and Sinks! well. he floats for a minute until he inevitably sinks #& he does not react to it at all. he's exact opposite of eddie on the 'how they handle being in water' scale #eddie: lowkey panics. swims for safety #wally: lets it happen <3

[kyberblade]

Back To You (Din x Reader) - Part 19

A/N: Well, it’s here. You all voted, and it’s one monolithic chapter. I can’t believe we’re here. 😭 We still have so much coming up for these guys, but this first part is done and it’s been a year and I have EMOTIONS!!!! 😮‍💨🥺 Thank you all for everything. It’s been an honor to go on this journey with all of you, and I can’t wait for all the rest of the stories this little clan has coming up! We just have nostalgia in this one, throwbacks, badassery, lots of feelings and fun…. It’s a good time for all. I’ve had this final scene written since almost day one. I’m so excited it’s finally here. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did writing it! There will still be an epilogue for this story, too, so we’re not totally done, yet. (Also, once again, there is some lore in this that @writerlyhabits wrote in a fantastic short, and I loved it so much, I asked if I could use it.)

(This takes place right where the other one left off and goes to the end of episode 2x8/16, The Rescue.)

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

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff, Grogu being the cutest thing you ever did see, and Din is once again a warning in and of himself in this one. Typical show violence. Swearing. Space swearing. Grogu is a menace. Arguing? Mando’a. Show dialogue, so spoilers? (But if you’re here, you know how this works.) Lots of angst. Tears. Brief mention of injury. Reader is having a Tough Time™️ mentally, but it’s discussed and processed. The F-word but it’s in Mando’a so does it really count?

Word count: 21,386 (I said what I said.)

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

And for @fordo-kixed-rex, you deserve so much more than a shoutout for reading all 75 million iterations of this massive chapter from start to finish, and helping me in between. You’re a real one, friend. This series would not have gotten this far without you.

And @deceiver-of-gods for helping me with the Mando’a!

Previous | Series Masterlist | Next

Xxx

You woke to the ship swinging wildly side to side, the sound of blaster fire filling every space of the vacant cargo hold. Din was no longer behind you, just the cold lonely steel of Boba’s ship, but there was something wadded up underneath your head as a makeshift pillow. It was soft, and smelled of your Mandalorian. Lifting your head, blinking blearily against the soft lights of the deck, you looked around, catching the fabric of Din’s cowl as it fell from behind your head and down into your lap.

“What’s going on?”

Fennec helped you to your feet, both of you stumbling slightly to the left as the ship tilted at a precarious angle, her hand holding on to you even after you were up to help both of you maintain your balance. Din’s cowl was still clutched tightly in your other hand.

“Found Doctor Pershing. He’s on an Imperial transport, we’re attempting to enter negotiations for his release.” She smiled wryly. “They aren’t going so well.”

The ship turned sharply to the right, causing you and Fennec to release one another. She gripped the bottom of a nearby seat to avoid flying across the deck, but your hands were full with the cowl, and you went sliding across the deck on your side from the steep angle. 

Cara attempted to grab you as you slid by where she too was gripping a nearby seat, grabbing on to the fabric of the cowl for a brief second before it slipped through her fingers. “It’s just as elusive as the man who wears it,” she grumbled, making you grin despite the situation.

The ship finally started to even out slightly, enough that you weren’t sliding, but your feet still propelled you forward from the dangerous angle. “The old man flies like a-”

Din caught your hand before you could go any further, pulling you into him where he was against the wall, hanging on to a cargo net.

You looked up at him, breathing heavily after stumbling for your life across the deck. “Well, he flies like you.”

Din grunted at the slight, making you grin. “Thanks, shiny.”

He only nodded once, his grip on your upper arm adjusting slightly.

“Oh!” Reaching up, you attached his cowl back around his shoulders. “And thanks for that, too.”

He nodded again. “You always complain about needing your Mandalorian pillow, so I figured it was the next best thing.”

Fennec snorted in amusement at the same time Cara moaned an, “Ew, guys!”

The ship entered a roll, all of you clinging to something and muttering curses. Once it leveled back out, you glared at the hatch that led to the cockpit. “I’ll be right back.”

“What are you doing? Mesh’la?” Din tried to reach after you, but you ignored him, climbing the ladder and stepping into the cockpit once the doors slid open.

“Hey. Flyboy.”

“I’m busy, ad’ika,” Boba said through gritted teeth, his modulator making the words sound even thinner as he pulled the trigger yet again, the shots whizzing past the transport in front of him. 

“You missed.”

If he was a clone, and they were the troopers…. Who were always dismal shots…. You grinned. 

“So is that just something in the clone/trooper genetics? Missing things by a mile?”

“It was a warning shot,” he grumbled, turning his visor your way ever so slightly before turning back to the viewport. “And troopers aren’t clones anymore. If they were, we’d all be in trouble.”

The grin pulled higher up the side of your face. “I see.” Arms crossing over your chest, you took a step closer to him. “Well warn them faster, grandpa, you’re nearly murdering your crew with these maneuvers. You didn’t give us any warning.”

“Have to strap you all down like ade,” he mumbled, chuckling softly as he shook his head, probably picturing it. (“Children.”)

Reaching forward, you flipped a switch on the console, sending a blast from his ion cannons right into the rear of the transport, making it go dead on impact.

Leaning down so your head was beside the bounty hunter’s, you smirked. “That was my warning shot.”

Grumbling something unintelligible under his breath, Boba leaned in and pressed the button for comms. “Lower your shields, disengage all transponders, prepare for boarding.”

The ship rose slowly in front of the transport, the pilot, copilot, and Doctor Pershing all watching it rise through the viewport with a gradual tilt of their heads further and further back until they were out of sight. 

Boba hovered over the hatch, pressing a few buttons on the console as he mumbled, “Easy as….” A loud thud accompanied by a violent jerk caused you to stumble through the cockpit, grabbing the back of his chair for stability.

With a huff, you turned your head to glare at the side of his visor. “You were saying?”

“I never finished the sentence. Maybe I was going to say it was something complicated.”

“Osi'kyr,” you grumbled, pushing off of his chair. “Would be easier to pet a nexu.” (Strong exclamation of dismay.)

“I’ve actually pet a nexu once,” Boba mused, flicking a switch before leaning back in his chair.

“Of course you have.” You didn’t bother turning back to face him as you left the cockpit to rejoin the others. A small smile turned up your features at the sound of his laugh behind you. 

Xxx

Sitting on the deck of Boba’s ship, your mind began to wander. Staying upbeat and engaged was easy…. For a time. Until you really let your thoughts go down the roads they wanted to, with memories of the kid playing on a loop, especially the one of him being taken from practically right out of your hands.

Within just a few steps, from the bottom of the ladder to the cockpit to the seat you were perched on in the middle of the deck, a dark cloud had taken over your mind, and you didn’t feel like fighting it right now.

You hung back while Din and Cara boarded the Imperial transport to get Doctor Pershing. The whole thing took less than two minutes, but from your seat, you could hear the entire exchange. Fennec watched you closely from her seat across the aisle from you. 

“What?” You asked her after a moment of loaded staring.

“Nothing,” she shook her head with a shrug. “You’ve just been quiet the last few days is all.”

“Compared to what? I only met you a few days ago.”

A blaster shot fired, and a body thudded to the floor, causing both you and Fennec to lean slightly to peer through the opening to see what was going on. She leaned forward while you leaned back. But a quick glance at the opening showed both of your friends still standing firmly with their weapons drawn, so you assumed it was one of the Imps turning on the other. 

Cowards.

Both of you sitting back how you had been, you turned your attention back on one another as if nothing had happened. 

Fennec went on as if simply talking about the weather. “True. But before everything with the kid went down, you seemed….”

Brows knit, one arching in question, you bobbed your head at her to continue. “Go on….”

“Better.”

You huffed, shaking your head as you looked at the ground. “I’m fine.”

“Alright.”

Shrugging your shoulders, you looked up at her again, peering up through your lashes. It felt safer than looking straight at her. “I’m on a strange ship with strangers and everything is-”

“Strange?”

Lifting your head to look at her straight on, your face fell flat. “Different.” You glared. “A member of my clan was taken. It’s not the same as missing someone, it’s more like a piece of yourself is gone.”

“I understand,” she offered softly. “I just don’t want you to slip away in the process.”

“Slip away?”

She sighed, looking down at the floor. “Sometimes….” Her gaze pulled back up to meet yours confidently, something softening once your eyes met again. “Sometimes when we let something consume us - grief, loss, a goal - it’s easy to get buried in all the things you let slide along the way.”

You felt the clouds begin to break, a ray of sunshine beginning to shine through. “What…. What have I let slide?”

She looked off to the side, as if the words she needed were hidden somewhere in the cargo hold. “Honestly?” She met your eyes. “Yourself.”

“It was my fault-”

“It happened.” Leaning forward, she left no room for question as she put a hand on your upper arm. “All that matters now is how you fix it.”

Suddenly a blaster shot fired, another body thudded to the ground, and a man started yelping in pain. Turning toward the opening where the ship was docked to the transport, you stood up and took a few steps closer, nearly running into Cara as she stomped past you.

“That was my warning shot,” she mumbled, stuffing her blaster into its holster on her hip.

Looking back at the opening, you saw Din staring after her in concern, his shoulders rising and falling in a heavy sigh as he watched his friends fall a little further apart. 

Rushing into the transport, you put your hands on the shoulders of the man, startling him.

He tried to back away from you, looking up with wide eyes, but you held him in place firmly.

“Shhhh, it’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you. You’re Doctor Pershing, right?”

He nodded, wincing at the motion and cradling his right ear.

“Mind if I take a look?”

Slowly lowering his hand, he gently shook his head, turning slightly to offer you a better angle. “Your angry friend shot my captor- something I’m grateful for, don’t get me wrong- just…. It was a bit close to my ear.”

“It ruptured your eardrum, didn’t it?”

He nodded hesitantly. “Some bacta should help. If we get to it soon.”

You smiled. “I have something better than bacta.”

“Wha-”

Reaching out, you placed your hand over his ear, making him wince and try to pull away from you. Holding him in place with your other hand on his shoulder, you took a deep breath, doing what you had done for Din back on Morak, and mending his injury. “Sorry about my friend. She can get a little hot headed. I’m sure she’ll apologize in a little bit, but for now….” You pulled your hand away, lowering your voice since he could now hear again out of that side, “I’ll just have to do. There. All better.”

His mouth opened and closed a few times, an attempt at words but only a croak coming out in disbelief. Finally he was able to mutter, “How?”

You’d almost expected him to ask why, but as he asked how instead, you understood. He may have studied the workings of the Force, and understood it on a molecular level, but that didn’t mean he truly knew its capabilities. Plus, he’d only ever been exposed to a truly dark and twisted side of things, one that was selfish and manipulative. That side would never reach out and heal just for the sake of it. They’d reach out a hand just to strike you further down. Or make sure you stayed there.

“Friends take care of each other. I’d call us friends, wouldn’t you?” He nodded hesitantly, eyes darting to the Mandalorian hovering behind you before coming back to you. “And you’re going to help us find the kid, aren’t you?” He nodded again, making you smile a bit broader. “That’s it then. We help you, you help us.” 

You got to your feet, standing beside Din, and helping Pershing to his feet. Once he was standing, though, you didn’t let go of his hand, making sure he met your gaze as you held his hand a bit too tight. “But if anything goes wrong…. I can’t make any promises about my friend out there. As you’ve already seen, she’s a bit of a loose canon. Can’t really tell what she’ll do if she gets upset.”

Eyes wide, Pershing nodded in understanding, eyes flitting between you and Din rapidly, then darted where Cara had disappeared before landing back on you. “Understood.”

Xxx

Fennec’s talk had caused the clouds to break, but your mind was still overcast and dreary; thoughts dark and dismal pulling you into another spiral you were fighting hard to stay on the edge of, and not get sucked down under. So far you’d kept your head above water, but with every kick to tread and stay up, you were getting more and more tired.

Staring out one of the side viewports of Boba’s ship, you watched the stars crawl lazily by, as your arms crossed over your chest held you tight. The soft clink of beskar clad steps came up behind you, the looming hover of the cool metal just out of reach as he stood a mere breath away brought a soothing wash over your skin.

“You’re not going to say anything?” You mumbled after a long moment of silence.

“Mmm-mmm,” he hummed, the gentle shake of his head causing the fabric of his cowl to brush the back of your head. 

“Thank you.” A deep breath. “Why not?”

“Do you want me to?”

You shrugged. “Not particularly.” You smirked at his huff of laughter. “Everyone else has, though. Including you. Just figured we’d come full circle and it was your turn again.”

He shrugged this time, the motion jostling him a bit closer, just enough that he was barely touching you. “You’re going to feel what you feel. I can’t change that by telling you over and over that I think it's wrong.”

“But you do?”

He sighed. “Mesh’la….” He closed the last breath of distance between you, pressing his chest along your spine. “I’ve said my piece. You know how I feel, what I think. Me beating you over the head with it like Peli adjusting something on the Crest isn’t gonna change anything.” His modulator lowered down beside your ear. “All I can do is stay here and keep fighting alongside you, hopefully beating whatever is winning in that head of yours…. Because it’s wrong. And I hate what it’s doing to you.”

You smiled to yourself. “It’s just me up here.”

“That’s not the full you. That’s the broken you. I know because….” He sighed. “Because I’m a little bit broken, too.”

The silence sat comfortably between you for a long moment. When you finally spoke again, your voice was soft, but felt harsh in the new quiet you’d found.

“How are you not falling apart?”

“Who says I’m not?” He didn’t miss a beat.

You let out a snort, a sardonic chuckle chasing after it as you shook your head gently. “That’s not fair, you have armor to hold you together.”

“It’s not the armor.” His voice was quiet, but he spoke with a conviction that made your breath catch in your chest.

Your conversation from back on Coruscant came back to you.

“I’m sorry I scared you, years ago.”

“What do you-”

“You’re right. You do wear armor. And I can only imagine how it felt to have something break past those defenses.” 

It was nearly silent as you studied his visor, your reflection staring back at you in the low light. The only sounds were Grogu’s snoring, the muted drone of traffic several levels up, the quiet lull of street noises from below, and both of your quiet breaths.

“I hope you know you don’t have to keep wearing it for me.” Your eyes flitted between his, despite the visor. Somehow you knew. “If you want to, that’s okay. I understand. That’s part of who you are. But….” You took a surprisingly shaky breath, and his hand came to rest on your hip, his thumb tracing soothing patterns while he waited for you to finish. You had to screw your eyes shut to focus on the last few words. “But I just wanted you to know. I’d be your armor if you needed- wanted me to.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to open your eyes, the darkness so much easier to hide in. How ironic, since you had just offered him a way out of something similar.

The next thing you knew, the cool touch of beskar against your forehead for the third time tonight made you take in a shuddering breath.

“I’d like that,” you heard him rumble lowly, making you smile. 

A long moment passed with just the two of you and shared space before you finally opened your eyes. “What’s going on in there, Tin Can?”

Din huffed out a soft laugh as he gave your hip a gentle squeeze. “I can’t decide which is prettier armor. You or beskar.”

Your arched brows of curiosity fell flat along with your tone. “Really?”

“You asked.” You could hear the smile in his voice.

“Okay. Moment’s over.” You pushed away from him, your hands already resting on his chest pressing him onto his back in the process.

“Mesh’la, come on. I was only teasing,” Din protested over a laugh, reaching a hand after you as you got under the covers.

You looked up at him, unimpressed. “If you say, ‘we both know it’s the beskar’, joke or not, so help me, a bad bed roll will be the least of your back pain worries.”

His hand recoiled slightly as if you had burned him. “Okay, that’s fair.”

You smirked. “I thought so.”

Turning, arms still cradling your upper half, you tilted your head back to look at him straight on. Staring into his visor, your reflection the only thing looking back at you, it took everything you had to fight the sinking feeling in your gut. “Din, I don’t know if I can do this anymore.”

He crowded further into your space, making your head tilt back even more. “Do what?”

“Keep going. I know I have to, and I will for the kid, for you, but…. I feel like I’m about to break.”

“Then break.” His arms slowly came around your waist.

“What?” Brows knit in confusion, you blinked up at his visor.

“Go ahead and fall. I’ll catch you.”

“Din-”

“Remember on Tatooine when you decided to use the Force to shoot the packets?” You nodded. “It zapped you so fast you couldn’t hardly stand up, but I stood right there behind you, and kept you up, until it was too much. Then-”

“You let me fall.” Smiling softly, you leaned your face into his cowl taking a much needed deep breath, what felt like the first in a while. He smelled like plasma, and smoke, faintly of Morak, something simply him, and….. home. 

Suddenly the air didn’t feel so oppressive, gravity wasn’t pushing you down so hard. Unwinding your arms from around yourself, they found their way around Din, holding him tight. They found their way home, knowing exactly where to go.

“Mmm-hmm,” he hummed into your hair, his grip around you cinching tighter. “I let you fall back into me, then I made sure you were safe until you were ready to try again.”

“How did I end up with someone like you in my life?” You mumbled the words lazily into his cowl, the corners of your mouth curving further up.

The smile on his face was evident in his tone. “You’re a really great bartender.”

Xxx

Din was able to track Bo-Katan and Koska down on some backwater planet you didn’t even know the name of. At this point it didn’t really matter, they were all bleeding together. You just wanted to get a team together and get the kid. And if that included killing or maiming a Moff in the process…. Well that was just fine with you. Anyone who would steal and torture a child deserved the absolute worst punishment. Especially if that child was Grogu. Was yours.

Walking into the local cantina, you hovered behind Din and Boba, all three of you standing tall as the patrons started to notice you one by one. Conversations went silent, laughter dying out as they realized who exactly had darkened their doorway. They began to flee the building, some of them being sly about it, others just blatantly running past, but no one wanted to linger when two more bodies in beskar walked through the door.

One or two pointed to the saber on your hip, and a sense of pride swelled in your chest. Let them see. You may not have a suit of beskar, but a saber carried just as much infamy. Hopefully it kept more of the Gideon’s of the galaxy away from you and yours.

The cantina slowly emptied until it was just Bo-Katan and Koska eating at a table on the far end and your little party of three. A handful of patrons had waited until the bounty hunters had walked all the way through the establishment before they bolted, jostling you where you stood, still by the door. 

Leaning against the frame, arms across your chest, you sighed as a Rodian inched past you cautiously, and you swore a wary smile was tugging up one side of his face but you knew that was impossible.

“I need your help.” Din’s voice was gruff.

Bo-Katan sighed. “Not all Mandalorians are bounty hunters.” She wasn’t wearing her helmet, and neither was Koska, so nothing was there to hide the annoyance on her face as she turned toward your little party of three. Her eyes flicked up and down Boba before landing back on Din’s visor. “Some of us serve a higher purpose.”

“They took the child,” Din explained in a heavy tone, the hesitance in his words slowing them down to something almost broken. Reluctant.

That got her attention. “Who?” To her credit, her features melted into genuine concern, the wheels in her head already turning to plot a rescue.

Din answered without a moment's hesitation, his voice once again the low, confident growl you were used to. “Moff Gideon.”

You made your way further into the cantina, leaning on your right shoulder against the pillar beside Din, nodding once to Bo-Katan when she met your eyes.

She returned the gesture before her gaze fell down to the knife on your belt and a fond smile briefly turned up her features before it melted away just as fast. “You’ll never find him.” She turned back toward her plate of food, Koska doing the same beside her. 

Boba turned to look at you, his head tilting to the side in explanation instead of speaking, then lifted his visor toward Din. “We don’t need these two. Let’s get outta here.”

Bo-Katan’s attention immediately snapped toward the green set of beskar, her body angling toward him as she spoke. “You are not a Mandalorian.”

“Never said I was.” Boba only turned his head to peer at her across his shoulder. The movement was almost lazy, and it made you want to snicker. His voice was somewhat bored, and you leaned your head back into the pillar, settling in for the show.

“I didn’t know sidekicks were allowed to talk,” Koska finally piped up, directing her sarcastic comment toward Boba.

This made you push off the pillar, your arms coming to rest on your hips near your belt laden with weapons. Keeping your eyes on the other Mandalorian, you stayed back when Boba subtly held his arm out to stop you. This was his fight. 

Sidling up to their table, he chuckled dryly. “Well if that isn’t the Quacta calling the Stifling slimy.” He pulled up short when Koska got to her feet and stood right in his face. “Easy there, little one.”

Stepping closer the minuscule amount left between them, her nose practically brushing against his visor, she issued further threats as her head bobbed side to side for emphasis. “You’ll be talking through the window of a bacta tank.”

Your hand slowly lowered to your blaster hanging in the holster on your belt.

Bo-Katan held out her hand toward the two Mandalorians, her tone exasperated. “All right, easy. Save it for the Imps.”

Lowering your hand off of your blaster, you straightened your spine as Koska sat back down in her seat, and let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

Din thankfully moved the subject along. “We have his coordinates.”

The look of surprise on Bo-Katan’s face was priceless. “You can bring me to Moff Gideon?”

“The Moff has a light cruiser. It could be helpful in your effort to regain Mandalore.”

“You gotta be kidding me. Mandalore?” Boba turned to Din. Taking the few steps back toward the shiny Mandalorian, his voice had taken on disbelief. “The Empire turned that planet to glass.”

Bo-Katan was seething. “You are a disgrace to your armor.”

At that point you tuned out. Anything else was just going to upset you. Boba was your friend, and Bo-Katan was needed to get to Gideon. You’d pick a fight if you kept listening to her hurling insults about him being a clone, but you took a page out of Boba’s book, and let it roll off your back. 

All sound faded out for a moment, the silence so loud it was distracting. You stared blankly at the wall behind everyone.

Din settled into the pillar beside you, leaning against his left shoulder, and drawing you out of your trance. Smiling softly at the tilt of his head and heavy sigh that followed, you arched a brow at him in question. 

His shoulders rose and fell with another sigh, the words coming out on the exasperated breath. “Might as well get comfy.”

Your brow tilted further up into your hairline, the corner of your mouth trying to match it. “Why? What’s happening?”

Koska was thrown into a nearby table by Boba, the stone shattering under the impact, sending dust and rubble skittering across the floor.

“Mandalorian argument,” Din grunted.

“Doesn’t an argument usually involve words?” You asked, settling your spine against the pillar, watching as Koska and Boba exchanged blows.

Leaning his head to his left toward you, you tilted yours to the right to meet him in the middle. “This is a special dialect of Mando’a,” Din teased.

Both of you split apart almost lazily as Koska’s feet flew into the pillar, ran across its surface while her jet pack ignited and sent her head over heels in a flip, Boba’s head locked in her grip the whole way.

You came back together as if nothing had happened, resuming your previous positions as the green beskar landed on the ground with a thud, popping up just as fast and two opposing flamethrowers ignited, meeting in the middle in a shower of flames.  

“Enough! Both of you!” Bo-Katan barked in annoyance.

When the fires didn’t go out, you rolled your eyes, pushing off the pillar and flipping over the wall of heat, igniting your saber and making it zing off your vambrace.

Their flames sputtered to a halt as sparks flew from your armor. Bo-Katan bowed her head to you once in thanks, her eyes wide. You returned it, a tight smile on your face as you disengaged the blade. 

Bo-Katan continued pointedly, eyes flicking between the two Mandalorians. “If we had shown half that spine to the Empire we would’ve never lost our planet.” She turned to Din. “We will help you. In exchange, we will keep that ship to retake Mandalore. If you should manage to finish your quest, I would have you reconsider joining our efforts. Mandalorians have been in exile from our home world for far too long.”

“Fair enough.” You could tell Din was just saying what she wanted to hear. He had no intentions of joining her cause. It made you smile softly. Ever the diplomat…. Give or take some aggressive negotiations.

“One more thing. Gideon has a weapon that once belonged to me. It is an ancient weapon that can cut through anything.” Her eyes fell to the hilt of your saber now hung back on your belt as you made your way back to Din’s side. 

“Almost anything.” Koska looked at you pointedly before turning her gaze to Bo-Katan.

“It cannot cut through pure beskar.” Bo-Katan held Koska’s stare, then her eyes fell to your vambraces before they returned to Din. “But then your riduur already gave us an example of that.” Before you could say anything she continued. “I will kill the Moff and retake what is rightfully mine. With the Darksaber restored to me, Mandalore will finally be within reach.” (“Partner.”)

Your head began to swim again. So much rested on one man. Kriffing Moff Gideon. The restoration of Mandalore, the reunion of a clan, the mending of your heart…. It was all becoming a bit overwhelming. All it took was one little thing going wrong, and…. Just one thing….

Din peered down at her, his voice stable and calm. “Help me rescue the child and you can have whatever you want. He is my only priority.”

That shouldn’t hurt like it did. You knew he meant it only in the sense of her eagerness to fight Moff Gideon, but you couldn’t help but take it personally. It burrowed down under your skin and stung more than a prick from your training remote.

What did you expect?

It was always the kid.

You knew that.

You were always second.

Suck it up and move on. 

The voices in your head made you angry, and what’s worse, sounded a lot like you. There was no kyber to blame, no unseen force pulling at strings…. It was just your messed up brain.

You had to get out of there. Din would understand. He probably saw you as a liability already anyway. 

A shuddering breath filled your lungs as you took a step backwards towards the door. That last thought made you sad.

If there was one thing you never wanted, it was to be a burden for him. But looking back, that’s all you’d ever been. He’d had to teach you, feed you, house you…. There’s not a moment where he wasn’t devoting his time to keeping an eye on you. He gave the kid more freedom than you.

Turning, you strode out of the cantina, ignoring Din’s calls at your back.

“Mesh’la!”

Finally a gloved hand wrapped around your elbow, pulling you to a stop, but not before you ripped your arm out of his hold.

Rounding on him, you turned to stare at his visor with a flat expression and took a step backward. “What?”

He slowed to a stop about a foot away from you. “I should be asking you the same thing!”

“So much is riding on this one man. Everything…. If just one thing goes wrong…. And I don’t…. I don’t know what I would do if….” Arms crossed over your chest, you held his gaze. “I just finally put it together, Din. He’s your only priority, you said it yourself. I’m nothing but a burden here. I can’t teach the kid, you have to teach me everything, from flying the ship to fixing it to defending myself…. You never let me out of your sight! It’s like…. I finally got it. I’m a liability, so I’ll just go.”

Turning, you didn’t even make it a step before you froze again at the sound of his voice.

“Mesh’la….” When you wouldn’t turn around, he continued. “I don’t let you out of my sight because I can’t.” You scoffed. “I don’t want to. You’re the first thing I want to see each morning and the last thing before I fall asleep.” His voice got closer. “In fact, that’s one of the reasons I don’t want to sleep, because I don’t want to miss a second.” He drew closer still. “Yeah, I’d call you a liability, but for the first time, I’m willing to have a target on my back if that means I get you in my life. You’re a liability because if you left, I don’t know what I would do.”

You huffed. “What, you can’t find someone else to watch the kid?”

“I can’t find someone else to make me laugh.” Din didn’t miss a beat. He continued down his list as if it was ready made on the tip of his tongue. “To put all the blasters in the weapons locker backwards because they know it annoys me. I can’t find someone else who’s had me in a chokehold from the moment I saw them. I don’t like people, you know that. But I really, really-”

“Tolerate me?”

You didn’t have to turn around to know his weight had shifted to one leg, his head tilted to the side in disbelief. “Yeah. That’s it. I tolerate you. I tolerate you bad.” 

You couldn’t help the chuckle as you rolled your eyes.

His voice was closer when he spoke again, the gravel of the planet crunching underfoot as he drifted slowly nearer to you. “I tolerate you a lot. All the time. You walk in the cockpit and it’s just like the first time I saw you all over again. You make me act like an idiot.”

You huffed out a laugh. “Well, at least we can agree on that.”

“My brain stops. I forget what I’m doing.” His chest was pressed along your spine now, his hands on your upper arms, modulator by your ear as he went on. “It’s dangerous. So yeah, you’re a liability.” His grip on your arms tightened. “Good thing I’m in indestructible armor.”

The snort of laughter fell out before you could stop it, more coming out to meet it as soft chuckles buzzed out of his chest and along your skin as he closed his arms around your upper body, pulling you tightly to him. 

“Gar cuyi ner aliit. Ni kar'tayli darasuum gar. Gar cuyi ner mir'sheb bal gar utreekov kar'tayli darasuum gar, cyar’ika.” His voice was low and quiet, but happy. (“You are my family. I love you. You are my smartass, and your idiot loves you, darling.”)

Lifting your hands up to rest on his still around you, you couldn’t fight the grin crawling up your face. “Bal gar mir'sheb kar'tayli darasuum gar.” (“And your smartass loves you.”)

His helmet pressed into the crook of your neck, the buzz of his modulator tickling your skin. “I’m sorry I made you feel that way. I should have phrased what I said to Bo differently.” He groaned softly. “Ni cuyi gar utreekov, partayli?” (“I am your idiot, remember?”)

You turned in his hold, pressing your forehead to his. “Ni kar'tayli. Ni kar'tayli gar. Gar cuyi ner kar'ta, partayli?” You sighed, closing your eyes. “I’m sorry I overreacted. I’m just so on edge since everything with the kid, and I…. Thank you for understanding. And thank you for fighting for me, Tin Can. Even though it’s not much of a risk with that indestructible armor.” Your eyes flew open, looking at the T of his visor through your lashes and cocking one eyebrow skeptically. (“I know. I know you. You are my heart, remember?”)

“Shi par gar,” he whispered, his voice tight with an obvious smile. (“Only for you.”)

Xxx

Once everyone boarded Boba’s ship, a plan started to form. Before the group huddled around the holotable, you noticed Koska quietly complimenting some of the weapons stowed in a cluttered corner of the deck. You smiled softly as she and Boba fell into a brief amicable conversation about how he acquired the items, their scuffle back in the cantina long forgotten.

With a roll of your eyes you continued toward the rest of the party. Mandalorians.

Din stood at the back of the group as usual, hands tightly gripping his belt as he watched the others set up the display. The leather of his gloves creaked in protest with every flex of his hands against the thick strip of material around his waist.

Leaning into his side, you pretended to adjust his bandolier, speaking softly so only he could hear. “You okay?”

His visor turned down toward you in question, so you silently slid your hand down toward the hand closest to you, prying it from his hip and slipping your fingers through his with a gentle squeeze.

He let out a sigh, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Yeah. Sorry. Just…. We’re almost there.”

You turned your head so you were facing the wall behind you, keeping the conversation completely private. “Din Djarin nervous?” Your eyes flicked up to meet the T of his visor, along with a smirk. “Well that’s a first.”

“And that’s a lie,” Din grumbled. “You do all kinds of things that make me nervous.”

“Aw,” blinking your eyes an absurd number of times, you rested your free hand on his chest. “That’s sweet.”

“It wasn’t a compliment,” he groused. “I meant things like cooking and fighting. Just normal, everyday things.”

Patting his chest plate a few times, a tight smile pulled up your features. “I know.” With one last squeeze of his hand, you leaned in and whispered, “We’ll talk about it later.”

Din swallowed roughly. “See? Things like that.”

A holo of a massive ship spun in front of Bo-Katan’s face, painting her features in a soft blue glow. “This is Moff Gideon’s Imperial light cruiser. In the old days it would carry a crew of several hundred. Now it operates with a tiny fraction of that.” She smiled smugly as she watched the hologram spin.

“Your assessment is misleading.” All eyes turned to the soft voice of Doctor Pershing where he sat perched in a seat right in front of you. He may be soft spoken, but he wasn’t afraid to speak up, and you admired that.

Placing your free hand on his shoulder, you smiled down at him reassuringly when he glanced up your way, nodding once to encourage him to go on. 

“Oh, great. An objective opinion.”

Cutting your eyes Cara’s way, you made sure to shoot her a look through narrowed eyes and furrowed brows. She only shrugged in return, sending your eyes rolling.

“This isn’t subterfuge. I assure you.”

“Let him speak.” Bo-Katan’s interest surprised you, but the more you thought about it, it really didn’t. If the information he had was true, it affected every aspect of her plan.

Pershing let out a sigh. Relief washed over his face, his shoulders rounding forward as he let out the breath. “There’s a garrison of dark troopers on board. They’re the ones who abducted the child.”

That seemed to get Din’s attention. “How many troopers do they have armed in those suits?”

Now that he was back under the scrutiny of a beskar gaze, Pershing sat up a little straighter, hesitating slightly, his eyes fixed on the floor. You didn’t blame him. Those visors were intimidating. “These are third-generation design. They are no longer suits. The human inside was the final weakness to be solved. They’re droids.”

“Where are they bivouacked?” Fennec’s voice was uncharacteristically soft, making you tilt your head at her curiously. 

Pershing got to his feet, shooting you a glance, his face pulled into a tight expression before he focused solely on the holo, pressing a short series of buttons. “They’re held in cold storage in this cargo bay. They draw too much power to be kept at ready.”

“How long to power up?”

“A few minutes, perhaps.” Pershing’s tone never flustered. You half expected him to crack after a few minutes, but he truly was just a soft, kind, well intentioned man stuck in the middle of a horrible situation. 

He didn’t even crack when Din asked him another question. 

“Where is the child being held?”

He just pushed another button, the holo filtering through layouts until it settled on the one he wanted, and he began to explain. “This is the brig. He’s being held here under armed guard.”

Pershing turned back to look at you once again, and you nodded, offering him a smile which he was quick to return before settling back into his seat.

Bo-Katan wasted no time. “Very well. We split into two parties.”

“We go alone,” Din was quick to interject, his hand gently squeezing yours.

“Fine,” she said after a moment, shifting her weight, then launching into the rest of the plan. 

You didn’t pay any attention. You probably should have but you couldn’t.

Turning your head toward the wall once again, you stood on your tiptoes to get closer to Din’s ear. He tilted his head slightly to meet you halfway. You opened your mouth to say something snarky, a joke of some sort, but your breath caught in your throat, making you swallow instead. 

Din turned his head to look at you, and it was all you could do to hold the gaze of his visor.

Letting out a quiet huff of air, you whispered a “Thank you,” before your voice stopped working altogether, the emotions lodged in your throat a formidable foe.

The cold touch of his beskar came to rest on your forehead for only a moment before he was turning back to continue listening to the plan. I guess it’s good one of us was, you thought with a snort.

His voice pulled you back into the conversation. “And us?”

Bo-Katan turned to face him, in full planning mode. “We’ll be misdirection. Once we draw a crowd, you slip through the shadows, get the kid.”

“Those dark troopers? They’re gonna be a real skank in the scud pie.”

“Oh, Cara. Ever the optimist,” you sighed, walking over to a seat next to Pershing and plopping down beside him.

“It’s not my fault the Imps are using super droids now!”

“Didn’t say it was….” You massaged the bridge of your nose, eyes screwed shut.

“So what do you suggest? We just wave you at them and they go flyin’?”

Your hand fell to your lap with a slap. “That’s not how the Force works, and you know it.” A smirk started up your face. “But I could throw you at them, knock a few over….”

Cara tilted her head at you, features pulled tight in annoyance.

“Can you two do this later?” Fennec sighed.

“Oh, so it’s okay for two Mandalorians to destroy the inside of a building on a whim, but I can’t insult my friend with a verbal jab when I want?”

“Basically…. Yeah.”

Both you and Cara gave Fennec the look.

“Their bay is on the way to the brig.” Bo-Katan changed the subject pointedly, her gaze flicking between the three of you before finally landing on Pershing. “Can they make it there before they deploy?”

He seemed to mull it over for a moment. “It’s possible.”

“Here.” Fennec pulled something off of the side of Pershing’s uniform and offered it to Din. “Take his code cylinder and seal off their holding bay. Anyone else, we can handle.”

You tilted your head back to look up at Din where he stood behind you, a mischievous smirk crawling up your features. “They ask for a face to scan this time, let me handle it…. Brown eyes.”

He shook his head at you before turning back to the group. “We’ll meet at the bridge.”

Xxx

The ship bumped gently through hyperspace, blue and silver streaks casting everyone in dancing shadows. It was unusually silent in the cockpit of the stolen Imperial shuttle, everyone’s mind on their tasks ahead. 

When Bo-Katan finally spoke, though her tone was quiet, the sound of a voice made you jump. Din snorted in amusement where he stood beside you, the laughter only growing when you reached out to shove his shoulder in annoyance.

“I can’t believe you,” you mumbled. “Don’t laugh at me.”

“Don’t be funny, then,” he countered dryly, turning his visor down toward you.

Glaring up at him, you couldn’t help the quick twitch upward of your lips, opting instead to try and hide it with a roll of your eyes as you focused back on what Bo-Katan was saying.

“Moff Gideon is mine. Got it?”

“Not if he’s mine first,” you mumbled.

Cara stopped cleaning her rifle, and that was how you knew she meant business. “He’s ex-ISB. He’s got a lot of information.” She set the rifle in her lap. Your eyes went wide. She was serious. “I need him alive.”

Bo-Katan sighed, shifting her weight in her seat as she pressed a few buttons on the controls. “I don’t care what happens to him as long as he surrenders to me.”

“Prepare to exit jump space.” Boba’s voice over the comms made you smile. He was on his ship with doctor Pershing. 

“We could freeze him,” Boba offered when the question of what to do with Pershing came up.

You leaned in close to him, ignoring his skeptical expression from his seat opposite your own. “Your carbonite chamber is broken, remember?” Tilting your head, you narrowed your eyes. “Or are you just getting that old, old man?”

Boba turned to you with wide eyes. “He doesn’t know that,” he hissed, jerking his head subtly toward Pershing. 

The man was sitting just a few feet away, trying to give the impression of not listening in to a conversation about his fate.

“For what it’s worth,” he finally chimed in, holding up one finger and swallowing roughly before going on. “I-I d-d-don’t think c-carbonite is n-necessary.”

Boba sighed as Pershing turned to look at the two of you. After a long pause, Boba gestured with one hand for the man to go on. “And why is that?”

“Um.”

“Very compelling.” Boba looked at you pointedly.

The snort of laughter that escaped you in a huff caught you off guard, but the snickering that followed it didn’t. Leaning forward in your chair, you put your hand on Boba’s shoulder, ignoring the way he arched a brow and looked at it like it was a broken hyperdrive. “Come on, friend. It won’t be a problem. Because like you and I, he is also a friend. And friends help each other, don’t they?” Boba slowly lifted his head to hold your gaze once again, simply staring at you, his brows flat and unamused. You gave his shoulder a little shake, and your voice a slight edge. “Don’t they.”

He sighed. 

You smiled, releasing your vice-like grip on his pauldron back to something more forgiving. “They at least don’t freeze each other in carbonite.”

Boba hummed in thought, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. “You’ve never met some of my friends.”

As your hand fell into your lap, you stared at him, smile stuck on your face in disbelief. You blinked once, twice. “What?”

“Copy that.” Bo-Katan smiled softly. “Get the hell out of there as soon as they clear us to dock. And your shots have to look convincing.”

Boba huffed out a laugh. “Power up those shields, princess. I’ll put on a good show.”

“Watch out for those deck cannons.” 

Looking at Bo-Katan with wide eyes, your eyebrows narrowed in confusion before you looked up into Din’s visor, one brow rising into your hairline. “Well. That bridge was mended fast,” you muttered under your breath. 

Din simply shrugged one shoulder in response, his head shaking slightly as if to say, “Don’t look at me, I’m just as confused as you are.” 

Probably more, you thought with a grin as you turned back toward the viewport.

Boba muttered something under his breath. Then his voice softened, an undercurrent of something almost concerned painting his tone. “Don’t worry about me. Just be careful in there.”

“You be careful out here, old man.” Your words whispered for only yourself to hear, a tight smile pulled up your face when Fennec snorted out a soft laugh to your left. Her eyes met yours, a gentle shake of her head her only response before she focused back out the viewport. 

Silence settled once again throughout the cabin, this one a bit more tense than the first. It was time. On the other side of this jump lay uncertainty and conflict…. But it also held your heart. You were one stop away from healing. And for some reason that made you grip the handle by your head tighter. 

Koska’s soft countdown pulled you back into the moment at hand. “Exiting hyperspace in three, two, one…”

The ship lurched, sending you stumbling forward slightly as the streams of hyperspace slid into streaks of silver stars. Gideon’s light cruiser loomed through the viewport, filling the space from end to end and growing as the ship approached it rapidly.

Boba shot at the shuttle in bursts, both ships weaving back and forth as the bolts narrowly missed the hull.

You could almost hear Boba’s voice in your head. “That was my warning shot.”

Bo-Katan called out a fake mayday, asking for help from the cruiser, but everyone exchanged a nervous look when a response came back to clear the way for TIE support.

As she tried to call the bluff, heading straight for the landing bay as planned while yelling something else into the comms, you shifted your weight to avoid falling as she took a particularly aggressive turn to the right. The quick upward motion of the ship that followed knocked the wind out of you with a huff.

“I hope she fights better than she flys,” you leaned toward Din, grumbling about Bo-Katan and groaning as she swerved again, sending you stumbling into his chest.

His arms wrapped around your waist, one of them reaching up to grab onto the handle for stabilization as he peered down at you with a slight tilt of his head. “This feels familiar.”

A snort of laughter had you tucking your face into his cowl with another groan. “Yeah, it’s almost like we need to make better friends, or at least some who fly with some sense of survival.”

“We haven’t died yet.”

“Yet is the key word there.”

Streaks of green from TIE fighter blasts shot past the viewport, illuminating the cabin on their way past.

Closing your eyes, you focused on the nearest enemy ship, reaching out through the Force in an attempt to send it spiraling through space when a hand on your shoulder stopped you short. Blinking your eyes open, you turned down toward the grip to find a gloved hand holding you tight.

“Uh-uh,” Din’s voice was low, similar to the way he admonished the child. “Don’t even think about it.”

“I was just….”

“You were just nothing. Nope. I don’t wanna hear it, mesh’la.”

Arms crossed over your chest as you faced forward, you cut your eyes to the side to glare at him. “You’re no fun.”

He nodded once in agreement, not even bothering to look your way. “I’m the absolute worst.”

Before you could respond, the ship lurched again, the mechanical whirr of the wings folding in for landing vibrating the floor under your feet. 

“Hang on!” Fennec yelled, holding on to the bottom of her seat as if bracing for impact.

A quick glance through the viewport showed sparks beginning to fly as the transport touched down inside the cruiser with a massive jolt.

Din held you close with one arm, the handle overhead with the other. You gripped his cowl with both hands as if your life depended on it.

Reaching out with the Force one more time, you searched for the other half of this elaborate plot to get onboard the cruiser, feeling him just on the edge of your awareness before he blipped out altogether. “Boba’s clear,” you breathed on a sigh.

The ship came to a shuddering halt, the screech of metal on metal filling the air along with a thick smoke that obscured most everything.

“Leave some for us,” you mumbled to Bo-Katan as she passed by you toward the lowering ramp, blasters drawn and ready.

You couldn’t see her face because of her helmet, but you could tell from her tone that she was smirking. “I’m not making any promises.”

The first wave waited for as many of the enemy to surround the downed transport before they stormed the hangar, the bay a storm of blaster bolts raining down and jet packs sounding off. 

The sounds of troopers screaming and issuing hollow threats grew further and further away, until they reached the other end of the hangar, finally coming to an abrupt end with a single shot. It was over almost faster than it had begun, silence filling the hangar after a matter of moments.

Both you and Din hung back in the cockpit, watching the whole thing on a display until the party disappeared through a door on the other side of the hangar.

“We’re clear,” Bo-Katan’s voice filled the transport from the comm on your hip. “Give us two minutes then go.”

Din pushed a button on the side of his helmet to reply. “Copy that.” He began to follow you toward the ramp. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Bo-Katan snorted. “This is the Way.”

Xxx

Din POV

Din chuckled as he came to a stop a few feet behind you, simply watching in silence. The thick smoke almost concealed you even just the short distance in front of him, but it was just thin enough that it swirled around you in some sort of eerie embrace that kept you still in his sights. 

If he was being honest, that’s how things had felt lately since the kid had gone - hazy and unclear. But there was always you somewhere in the middle of all the muddle to grab his hand and pull him through.

If he was being brutally honest…. That was how things had always been with you. Not just lately. Not just sometimes. From the time he met you, everything else seemed to slip into a fog and if it wasn’t for your guiding hand, he’d truly be lost.

It wasn’t that he quit finding joy in other things in life.

But those things meant nothing now if he couldn’t share them with you. Somehow. If he couldn’t find a way to bring them, or himself, back to you.

Din smiled and sighed quietly to himself, walking the last few steps silently.

There was time for all of this later, right now…. He had to get the kid.

You both had to get the kid.

This clan of three had been a clan of two for too long.

Xxx

Normal POV

Standing at the top of the ramp, arms crossed, a smirk crawled up your face.

“What are you doing?” Din’s voice behind you didn’t startle you for once, making the turn of your lips grow.

Trilling the fingers of your right hand, you watched the smoke tendrils near the bottom of the ramp curl and unfurl as you manipulated them slowly; the smile on your face going nowhere anytime soon.

“Having fun.” Tilting your head back to look at him with a broad grin, your fingers still moving in slow swirls, you chuckled softly at his amused sigh and gentle shake of his head. “What? Is there something else I’m meant to be doing?”

“Scoping out the hang-”

“It’s clear.” The smirk returned as you straightened your head to scan the docking bay. “Not a single life form left after our first wave went through. Well, aside from one.”

“Where?” Din drew his blaster, head instantly on a swivel as he surveyed the hangar.

“Right…. Here.” You sent the smoke swirling around him, making him swat at it, batting it away with an annoyed groan as you laughed. “Then again, could be a false reading. Been told bounty hunters are heartless.”

Din grunted, holstering his blaster as he closed the distance between you. “Oh, I’ve gotta heart. Want me to prove it?”

You laughed as your back hit the frame of the opening at the top of the ramp, Din crowding into your space. “I know you do, I know you do. I was only teasing. Kriff, you’re so easy to mess with sometimes.” 

Hands on his chest, you tried to push him off. Grunting in frustration when he didn’t move, you arched a brow and peered up into his visor, a soft laugh tumbling out despite yourself. “Hey. Shiny. Let me go. We have work to do. Little green kid. This big?” You held up your hands between you for reference. “Eats everything in sight? Cute as can be and stubborn as a tooka under threat of a bath?” 

Din just kept staring down at you, his head tilted slightly to the right. You pushed on his chest again with another grin. “Remember him? Hey!”

“There she is.”

You huffed out a breath in confusion as you stared up into his visor. “What?” 

“You’re laughing again. Smiling. You should do that more often.”

Staring over his shoulder absently, you realized you felt content for the first time in a while. “Yeah, I guess I am.” Meeting the T of his visor, you felt a smile climb your face like it was the most natural thing. “I guess it’s because the kid is so much closer for the first time since he was taken. I can feel him, Din. It’s like a part of me that was missing is whole again.”

“You can sense him?” He sounded breathless.

You nodded.

“Is he alright?” He was almost hesitant, but hopeful nonetheless.

Reaching out to wrap yourself around the familiar aura, you felt your soul begin to mend its broken parts. A soft laugh tumbled out as you felt a streak of mischief you knew all too well, followed by hunger, then love.

“He’s going to be okay.”

Xxx

Moving around the cruiser was easy, the team that went ahead of you drawing most of the attention of the crew that remained.

You and Din slinked through the hallways like shadows, evading the few troopers you came across without issue. 

An abandoned blaster in one lone hallway caught your attention; without thinking, you went to step out into the corridor to get it, stopping short when the neckline of your shirt cinched tight around your neck. Sputtering, you were jerked back into a beskar wall by a lone, gloved finger in the back of your collar.

“What the hell, Din?!” You hissed as you reached up to tear your top out of his tight grip.

His other hand came up to cover your mouth as two troopers walked by at the end of the hall. The hand in your shirt slipped down around your waist to pull you both further back into the shadows.

“You could have just said something,” you mumbled against his palm, rolling your eyes at his world weary sigh. With a flick of your wrist, you summoned the blaster to you from its spot on a lone crate across the corridor. Turning it over in your hands as you examined it, you hummed softly in thought. “Can you let me go now please?” His hand was still over your mouth so the words were completely jumbled.

“Will you stop trying to cross the street like a drunken baby wookie?”

You sighed into his hand, eyes staring up at the ceiling. “It’s a hallway, not a street, Din.”

“You’re not helping your case, mesh’la.”

You flipped the blaster to stun. “Does that help my case?”

Din heaved another sigh, lowering his hand and nudging you forward out of the alcove. “Let’s go. We’re almost there.”

As a smirk crawled up your face, you followed after him.

“Why have you become so violent?” He mumbled.

“I’ve learned from the best,” smirk melting into a grin, you jammed the blaster into the back of your pants.

Din turned down a hall on the left, then the right, before going straight down another long corridor. Every surface was shiny and reflective. Sterile. You wanted out of here as fast as possible.

Din groaned quietly. “Why do I feel you’re not talking about me?”

Both of you answered his question in unison. “Cara.” You nodded while his head tilted to the side before straightening.

Another left turn.

“Now see,” he mused, stopping to check the layout on the nav in his helmet. “I was going to say Fennec.”

Straight.

Your face twisted in thought. “I could see that…. She-”

He pulled you into a little alcove just as another two troopers walked by, causing you to collide with his chest with a soft thud. The troopers stopped at the sound, peering down the hall you were tucked just out of sight in, making the two of you press further into the wall and by extension, one another. Holding a finger up to your lips, you waited for Din to nod in acknowledgment before staring blankly at the wall next to his shoulder, deep in focus. 

After a moment, both troopers jumped slightly, looking behind them, then ambled off in search of the phantom sound you’d caused down the hall.

“I can’t believe you jumped,” one said.

“You did, too!” The other protested.

“Did not. I was just trying to turn around before you did.”

“Sure,” his friend said sarcastically.

“You know what,” the first one started. “If you don’t stop coming after me, I’m going to tell the Moff about the time you….”

Their voices faded around the corner, soft sounds of bickering trailing to nothing after a few moments.

Din chuckled, looking down at you, but made no effort to move. “You’re very handy to have around.”

You smirked. “Thank you.”

Xxx

A short while later, after just a few twists and turns, you came around a corner that had Din pressing a button on the side of his helmet to pull up his nav, his blaster drawn in the other hand. 

“This is it,” he mumbled, reaching down and pulling out the code cylinder from his belt. Glancing at a panel on the wall a short ways down the hall by a set of doors, his steps picked up as he hurried toward the controls, breaking into a sprint with a sudden, “No. No!” when the doors began to hiss open.

He clicked it in just in time, sending the doors the opposite way, but not quite fast enough for his liking. In a split second he had shifted his weight and began to fire his blaster through the small crack still left open between the two doors. 

You thought it all was over until two hands, two mechanical hands, the same hands you'd seen wrapped around the child on Tython, slipped through the remaining sliver left between the doors and pried them open.

Despite Din’s relentless open fire, the droid continued forward, pulling one arm back and punching Din square in the front of his helmet which sent him flying back into the wall. The droid then opened the doors enough to slip through before they slammed shut behind it.

Menacing red eyes stared lifelessly as it stalked closer to Din.

“Hey, bolt brain!”

The droid turned its head to look at you with a mechanical whirr, and you wasted no time. Charging toward your opponent, you did the attack that was second nature now. It was instinct. 

“Not today, grease breath,” you mumbled as you leapt into the air, wrapping your legs around the neck of the droid in an attempt to take it down.

But instead of both of you going down in a pile of limbs, the droid reached up, grabbed your thigh in its inhumanly tight grip, pulled you from its shoulders, and flung you to the floor as if you weighed nothing. 

The hallway sped by in streaks of dull shine, your skin screeching across the floor until you finally came to a stop several yards away. Nothing was really processing in your mind at that point past, “Well, that didn’t work.”

Suddenly it was like fire was shooting up your leg. Looking down at your thigh near where the droid had grabbed you, there was a tear in your pants, and underneath that a deep, angry gash that looked almost like a burn.

Din had kept firing at the droid while you made your attack, and it seemed a blaster bolt had ricocheted off of the monster and nicked your leg. The more you thought about it, the more it began to hurt. Pain radiated into your lower back and down into your foot, a hiss of discomfort passing through your tightly drawn lips. Biting back a moan, your jaw ticked to the side as you ground your teeth through another wave of agony.

But you didn’t have time to dwell on any of this, even though it had all occurred in just a matter of seconds.

The droid had already set its sights back on Din and had lifted him up against the wall by his throat, holding him in place as it released punch after punch into his visor.

Your only comfort was that his beskar was sure to hold up.

“Din!” You cried out, pushing up onto your palms, the movement causing a new wave of pain to shoot through your leg. Grimacing as you looked down at the wound, your attention was pulled over your shoulder as the platoon of dark troopers left in the bay began to pound on the doors to try and get through.

Turning back toward Din, you reached out as much focus you could offer right now, the wound tugging at the edges of your consciousness and making the lights in the corridor go blurry. The wall behind his head collapsed and a gas line began to fill the hallway with a cloud of the noxious fumes. He was suddenly sending energy down toward his flamethrower, so you withdrew from your mind and engaged your vambrace as well. 

The two pillars of flame met in the middle, dousing the droid in fire and sparks, but it didn’t even seem to slow it down at all. It just looked down at its body as the mechanics moaned and groaned under the heat, then lifted its head back up to look at Din before throwing him down the hall as the droid’s body somehow put out the flames. 

“Din!” You cried out again, anger boiling in your stomach as you watched him slide across the floor and could do nothing to help him. “Dank farrik!”

He was right under the panel and reached up to pull the handle to eject the rest of the dark troopers, but just as his fingers touched the metal, the droid grabbed his leg and tugged him back to the other side of the hall. It took a few steps toward him, then leaned back on one leg and kicked Din in the chest, sending him sliding further down the corridor.

As the droid opened fire at the beskar clad warrior, and Din returned the favor with his whistling birds, you took the opportunity to crawl and get your back up against the wall next to the panel. Relaxing into the durasteel for just a breath, you focused and reached out with the Force, flipping the lever with an unseen hand.

It struggled at first, flickering against the wall as if it didn’t want to move despite your clear intentions for it to just go. The transparisteel at the top of the door between you and the dark troopers cracked from top to bottom. One more hit and they were coming through. As one of the droids reared back to deliver a final punch, the handle flipped, sounding an alarm and opening the bay doors at the back of the area, sucking them all out into space. 

Smirk on your face, you looked up and watched as the dark troopers were pulled away from the small window at the top of the door. “Bye, you sons of-”

You were cut off by the sound of beskar through metal. Turning your head, you looked to find the droid crumbling into a pile of sparks and broken parts at Din’s feet, the beskar spear firmly in his hands. Reattaching the spear to his back, he let out a breath, his shoulders rising and falling with the effort before he turned his head and saw you perched on the floor.

He was quick to rush over to you, crumbling himself to land on his knees at your side, his hands a contradiction as they trembled, moving slowly toward the wound on your thigh. “Did I?”

“Ricochet,” you corrected him quickly. “When I jumped the droid. Got me good. Just…. Just help me up.”

His shoulder went under your arm immediately as he got you to your feet. “You should head to the bridge. I’ll find the brig, get the kid, and-”

“No.” He met your eyes with his visor, and you held his gaze, eyebrows raised in challenge as you tilted your head to the side. “Din, no. He’s part of my clan, too. I’m coming with you.”

He sighed. “Mesh’la….”

Standing up straighter, trying to take more weight on your bad leg, you stumbled a few steps away from him, or at least attempted to. He didn't let you get but a few inches away before his arm was back around your torso again in support. “At least I didn’t shoot you!”

“I didn’t shoot you,” he grumbled, adjusting your weight against his side. 

Staring at the side of his helmet in a deadpan, you couldn’t help but notice there wasn’t even a scuff mark from where the droid had unleashed its fury. That settled you a bit. But not enough to calm your annoyance. “You shot me.”

He rolled his head in exasperation. “It bounced off the death droid.” Turning as a unit, you both began down the hall toward the brig, Din carrying the brunt of your weight on his shoulder.

You snorted a laugh. “According to you, all droids are death droids.”

“Not the point- Don’t change the subject!”

Now you were snickering. “I didn’t.” Clutching his cowl in your hand thrown around his neck, you gave him a gentle, playful shake. “You shot me, he’s my family, too, so I’m coming. End of story. Now let's go.” You tried to walk a little faster, but with a Mandalorian literally strapped to your hip, it didn’t work very well.

After a few steps down the hall, Din spoke softly. “Bolt brain?”

Turning your head, you found his visor studying your face. “Well I couldn’t exactly call it Tin Can, that’s already taken, isn’t it?”

He nodded before you both continued down the corridor, walking in silence.

“I’m sorry I used your name.” The sigh was second nature now. Just part of being friends with the Mandalorian.

He looked at you. “I’m glad you did.”

“Really?” Your eyes flicked over his visor, every curve and angle spectacularly unaffected from the fight.

Din’s head tilted to the side affectionately, his voice soft. “Yeah.” Coming to a stop, he held your gaze for a quiet moment. “You…. I want…. Use it from now on.”

All you could do was nod.

The two of you turned your focus back forward to once again hobble towards the brig.

It was another minute or so before he spoke again. “I liked grease breath.”

“Really?”

He was obviously smiling. “Yeah.”

Xxx

It took a bit longer because of your injury, but you eventually made it to the brig, only one cell indicating a life form.

You could sense him, and it brought a smile to your face, but you could also sense a…. The smile began to melt just as Din waved his hand over the panel to open the door. “Wait,” you tried, but it was too late.

Pushing off of his side, you stood on your own despite the pain. Din looked to you in question before turning toward the cell once the door was open, his shoulders tensed in understanding.

On the bench in the cell sat Grogu waiting patiently in tiny little binders. Standing beside the kid was a man you could only assume was Gideon, a saber drawn and held precariously close over Grogu’s head. You’d seen enough Imperial officials on Coruscant to be able to read the rank on his uniform.

Din had his blaster drawn in an instant, taking aim the only words needed as he held the gaze of the Moff.

“Ah ah ah,” Gideon chided with a smug smirk, waving the saber over the kid’s head. Any closer and the little hairs on his head would begin to singe. It made your blood boil. If he hurt a hair on his head…. “Drop the blaster. Slowly.” Once Din had done what he’d asked, he gestured to you. “And the one you stole back in the hallway.”

You froze, hands inches from gripping the new blaster tucked into the back of your pants. How did he know? Tossing it aggressively onto the floor next to Din’s with a sneer, you cocked your hip to the side and crossed your arms over your chest, fingernails digging into your biceps to distract you from the pain in your leg.

“Now kick them over to me.” Din held his arm out to keep you in place, knowing you’d probably try to lob them at the Moff with a well placed kick. He nudged them gently across the floor toward the man. “Very nice.”

“Give me the kid.” Din’s voice was gruff and down to business, no room for messing around.

“The kid is just fine where he is.” Angling the saber back and forth, admiring it as he waved it slightly over the kid’s head again, a small smile climbed Gideon’s face. He met your eyes. “Mesmerizing, isn’t it? Used to belong to Bo-Katan.” His gaze flicked to Din, noticing how he shifted his weight just slightly. “Yes. I know you’ve been traveling with Bo-Katan. A friendly piece of advice, assume that I know everything. Like the fact that your wrist launcher has fired its one and only salvo.”

With a flick of your left wrist, your vambrace whirred to life. “I haven’t used mine.”

Din held out his arm again to hold you back. “Where is this going?”

You reluctantly disengaged the vambrace, studying the saber as the Moff spoke. It was like nothing you’d ever seen. The blade was black with brilliant white energy crackling along the edges, almost giving it the appearance of lightning on a dark night. It hummed at a different frequency than other sabers, you noticed, and the blade had a different shape than you’d ever seen, almost coming to a point at the end. It was truly beautiful, and you could see why it would be something to war over. 

But it didn’t hold your interest nearly as much as the tiny little green face that sat just beside it. The giant eyes blinking slowly up at you in love and trust despite the situation. Not a hint of fear coming off of him. How did you deserve a love like that? How had that come into your life?

“Almost done, ad’ika,” you sent to him through your mind.

His ears perked up at the sound of your voice in his head, but then his features twisted up in concern, eyes falling down to your wound before coming back up to meet your gaze.

“I’ll be okay. Let’s just get out of here first, okay?”

Grogu grunted softly, unamused, but turned his attention back to the Moff, and you did, too.

“You keep it. I just want the kid,” Din was saying, indicating the saber. You think.

You really needed to pay more attention, you groaned to yourself.

Gideon nodded. “Very well. I’ve already got what I want from him. His blood.” His what? “All I wanted was to study his blood.” A bad feeling ran down your spine. “This child is extremely gifted…. and has been blessed with rare properties that have the potential to bring order back to the galaxy.” He really thought this was an okay thing to be doing…. “I see your bond with him.” That was abrupt. “Take him, but you will leave my ship immediately and we will go our separate ways.” This didn’t feel right, but nothing on this ship did.

Arms crossed over your chest, you scoffed. “Gladly.”

Din turned to you, his voice low. “Go to the bridge.”

Your head snapped to the side to look at him. “What?” Did you just hear him right? Surely he didn’t…. There’s no way…. 

He took the smallest step toward you, his hand coming out to rest lightly on your elbow. “You’re injured, we’re almost done here….” His grip tightened, your wide eyes falling down to study his steady touch before quickly pulling back up to his visor. “Go to the bridge and tell them to get the ship ready. We have a deal to honor.” His thumb traced your upper arm once before his touch fell away, the ghost of his fingers trailing down to take your hand in his. “Once I have the kid, I’ll meet you all back on the transport and we’ll go home.”

Words weren’t working in your head. Nothing was working right now. Say something. “But-” 

“Mesh’la.” For some reason, you felt if you could see his eyes, they would be pleading. “Go. Now. Please.” Din’s hand released yours, the heat from his fingers wrapped around your own evaporating almost instantly in the cold, lifeless interior of the cruiser, haunting you with its memory.

Taking a few steps backwards, ignoring the pain shooting through your leg, you stepped into the hallway, pausing for a moment to stare at Grogu, then Din before turning and starting toward the bridge. You were tempted to glare at the Moff, but he wasn’t worth your time.

You were just about to round the corner when you heard the zing of kyber on beskar.

Without hesitation you turned and ran back toward the room, your wound forgotten as you charged for the door. “Din!”

The Mandalorian backed out of the doorway blocking blow after blow from the Darksaber, the Moff unrelenting in his attacks.

Din finally gained some ground and got his feet under him, gaining some distance between himself and Gideon, enough to right himself and pull his beskar spear as he slowly circled the Moff.

Stop.

A voice you didn’t recognize echoed through your head, ringing as if it were a hammer striking steel.

Stop. No. 

It echoed like it was in a cavern and not on a cruiser.

This is the Way.

As you skidded to a stop in the middle of the hall, you called out his name again. “Din!” You were behind him, but he didn’t turn to look at you, the only indication he heard you his shoulders tensing at the sound of your voice.

Ad. (“Daughter.”)

What was that voice?! And now it was speaking Mando’a?

“Go,” Din ordered gruffly. 

Slanar. (“Go.”)

You wanted to roll your eyes as the voice agreed with your Mandalorian. Of course it did.

“No.”

Ib’tuur jatne tuur ash’ad kyr’amur. (“Today is a good day for someone else to die.”)

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say the Darksaber was talking to you…. Before you could really focus on the blade in the Moff’s hand, Din was moving again. 

“Go,” he yelled again, raising the spear to strike at Gideon, sparks flying on impact. “Now!” He blocked a few more blows from the saber before they leaned into each other, the heat from the kyber causing the spear to turn red hot.

Ret’urcye mhi. (“Maybe we’ll meet again.”)

Okay, mysterious voice. You win this round. You and the Tin Can.

Grunting in frustration, you turned on your heel and ran as fast as you could to the bridge. As you charged through the doors, you held up your hands as at least four blasters were aimed at you. “It’s me, it’s me. Only me.”

“Where’s-”

“Back there,” you grimaced, gesturing over your shoulder with your thumb before you collapsed to the floor clutching your leg.

Cara and Fennec were quick to help you over to a chair, propping your injured leg up on a seat across from you, while Koska sealed the doors and Bo-Katan checked surveillance in the halls.

“I don’t see them,” she said, filtering through several feeds.

“What happened?” Cara asked.

“Blaster ricocheted and got me. We found Gideon and the kid, they made a deal.”

“A deal?”

You nodded to Fennec, grimacing as you clutched the wound on your leg tight.

“He wants us off the ship in exchange for the kid. Mando- Din told me to leave and come here, let you all know we’ll meet back on the transport. Then next thing I know I hear Gideon going at him with the Darksaber-”

“And you didn’t help him?”

You glared at Cara. “Of course I kriffing tried to. Dank farrik, Cara, What else do you think I would do, just sit and watch? Run back here faster? Some other third option?” She rolled her eyes at you, leaning against the console at her back. You sighed, relaxing in your seat, head lolling back and hand coming up to cover your eyes. “He told me to go. Again.” Letting your hand fall down to your lap with a plop, you looked between your two friends. “So I did.” You shrugged. “What else was I supposed to do?”

“He knows what he’s doing,” Fennec offered softly. “He’s only trying to keep you and the kid safe.”

“Yeah, well I am pretty good at that myself,” you grumbled. Before anyone could say anything, you screwed up your face like you’d eaten something sour. “I know, I know.” Arms coming to cross over your chest, you pouted like a petulant child. “It’s not the same.” 

“At the end of the day, what matters is that you’re both able to come home. Does it matter how that happens? Who does the saving?”

All three of you turned your heads over to look at Bo-Katan in unison.

She wouldn’t hold your gazes for long, her eyes falling back to the screen with the surveillance feed. “He’s here at the door…. With the Moff.” She looked at you pointedly, her voice softer and a smile tugging up her face. “And the kid.”

You sat up straight, turning toward the entrance as you waited for the doors to hiss open. Koska punched the button, stepping to the side to give you an unobstructed view, and you could have sworn a soft huff of laughter passed through her modulator.

As soon as Din came through the doors, the kid in one arm, the Darksaber ignited and extended down to the side in the other, the atmosphere in the room shifted. It was like all the air was sucked out. You almost had to glance around and make sure a stray blaster bolt hadn't pierced the viewport and caused a slow leak.

Power radiated off of him as his grip tightened around the hilt of the weapon, his gloves creaking in protest against the pressure while he followed behind Gideon who’s wrists were bound with binders at his front.

The Moff’s eyes were downcast, but they landed on you briefly, sending a shiver crawling down your spine. Sitting up a bit straighter, not wanting to let him win any satisfaction, you grunted in pain slightly when the stretch pulled on the wound on your thigh. Letting a short breath out through your nose to cover the pain, you suddenly forgot all about it when the corner of Gideon’s mouth quirked up in amusement at your suffering.

“The droids miss far less than the troopers,” he mumbled as he passed by you, letting out an annoyed huff as Din nudged him forward toward the rest of the party with a push that was a little more forceful than necessary. 

Din turned his attention toward you, his helmet doing a quick once over from your head down to the floor and back up again. When he saw your leg propped up on the seat in front of where you sat, he disengaged the saber and hurried over to you, kneeling at your side and ignoring your protests.

“I’m fine. Din, I’m fine.” You sighed as he set the saber down on the floor, gently placing Grogu in your lap and inspecting the wound up close. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” he grumbled, reaching for a medkit tucked under one of the stations next to you.

“No, stop it,” you tried to push his hands away as he went to set the kit on your uninjured thigh beside the kid. “Ma- Din, no.”

“Mesh’la,” he sighed, flipping the top of the kit open, groaning in annoyance when you flipped it back shut with an unseen force.

He kept opening it, a total of two more times, only for you to slam it shut again, this time applying a little extra pressure to keep him from being able to open it again. 

“I’m fine.”

His forehead came to rest on your knee where he knelt in front of you, a heavy sigh rounding his shoulders. 

“Mesh’la….”

“Will you just look at it, you overgrown Tin Can?” You couldn’t help the amusement coloring your tone.

Din lifted his head to look up at you. “I did. It’s-” Turning his gaze down to the small tear in your pants from the blaster bolt, he realized the wound was no longer red and angry, no longer open, but neatly mended skin, fresh and healed. “….gone. It’s gone.” Pulling his visor back up toward your face, tilted slightly in question, you shook your head in answer before looking down at Grogu, smile widening slightly.

Looking between the two of you, Grogu let out an unimpressed grunt before he climbed up onto the control panel at your side, scrambling over your lap and arm of your chair in the process.

Whispers began to circle you, faint and indecisive. You looked down to the hilt of your saber accusingly, but it sat quiet, contentedly on your hip almost as if the kyber was sleeping. The voices surged, making you inhale sharply through your nose to try and not draw attention to yourself, when you realized they were coming from the saber in Din’s hand.

Standing near the front of the bridge, Din gave one of his signature sighs as he turned his attention from the Moff, extending the saber with one hand. He was offering it to Bo-Katan. “And now it belongs to her.”

We belong to no one, the voices surged again, clear as the smirk on Moff Gideon’s face as he watched the exchange between beskar warriors.

Unlike back in the hallway, it wasn’t just a singular voice, it was many. It was different. But there wasn’t time to sit and dwell on the variances between the voices in your head. Shaking your head gently, you focused back on the whispers currently curling into your mind.

They weren’t modulated, but you felt as if the voices belonged to those of Mandalorians past, as if the blade spoke for Mandalore. And in a way, you guess it did. If it had chosen the Mandalorian people, that kyber spoke for a nation. Suddenly it made the taunting voice of your own blade seem small. Insignificant.

Your kyber didn’t like that, didn’t like being pushed to the side, being made to feel small, and started to hum, the vibrations filling your mind with an annoying frequency you couldn’t shake.

It spoke for Mandalorians.

So why was it speaking to you?

Before you fully registered what you were doing, you found your feet had carried you closer to the Moff, something in his demeanor not sitting quite right in the back of your mind. This was too easy. 

The pull of the Darksaber drew you further in, its gentle ebb and flow of energy washing softly over you like cresting waves. It was every bit like Mandalorians, at least the ones you knew. Rough around the edges, intimidating and brilliant. But its aura was also soft, and somewhat inviting if you knew where to look. Underneath the rough exterior and harsh lines it offered a warmth unlike any other…. Like a certain beskar clad bounty hunter you knew.

No voices came anymore, but the hum morphed into a steady pulse, almost like a heartbeat, the higher pitch of your purple kyber beating in tandem with the low thrum of the dark blade.

The hum faded slightly to the background as an alarm started blaring at one of the stations, pulling all eyes over toward the sound.

“The ray shields have been breached. We’re being boarded,” Fennec said, going over to the console and disengaging the alarm, her eyes wide on the screen.

“How many life forms?” Bo-Katan asked, walking toward the station.

No matter how far you reached out, you didn’t feel any life forms beyond this ship. And that thought made your gut sink. “None,” you mumbled to yourself.

Fennec turned to the group, swallowing roughly. “None.”

Everyone sprung into action, the slap of footsteps on the deck echoing in your head. The hollow thud thud thud of each boot fall ricocheting in your ears made it seem like the space was spinning slowly. 

Din picked up Grogu and set him on the floor by the nearest console, leaning up against its side. “Don’t worry, kid. We’re gonna get you out of here.”

The air was tense as everyone stood in silence once they’d reached their positions. It sounded strange when Fennec called out an order. “Seal the blast doors.” Her voice a stark contrast to the low drone of the ship.

All eyes were on the door once you pressed the button and the extra layer slipped between you and the dark troopers. It was only a matter of time before- 

Then Koska said what you’d all been dreading. “They’re here.” Glancing at the small screen, she turned back toward the door, lifting her blaster higher.

It was odd to know an enemy awaited you so closely and yet you could sense nothing. Not a flicker, or a spark, or a-

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

The metal door moaned under the pressure, and began to crumple in the center from the repeated strikes of the dark troopers’ fists. 

Blow after blow, the durasteel bent further, nearly separating in the center to reveal your enemy on the other side. 

Every pair of feet shifted nervously, trigger fingers twitched with each thud. 

You saw Cara toss her head to the side slightly, her eyes fluttering shut for just a moment before they flew back open as she rolled her shoulders back.

Bo-Katan held two blasters up at the ready, and for all accounts seemed steady. But you saw the shallow breaths she was taking. You knew how to read the body beneath the beskar.

No one in here thought they were walking out. 

At least, not all of you.

There has to be a way, you thought, turning toward Gideon. 

He was grinning.

“Make them stop,” you ordered gruffly, never lowering your blaster from its aim at the door.

As Gideon began to laugh, you made a split second decision and turned your blaster on him, switching it to stun mode. But he didn’t know that, you just wanted him to hear the whir of the mechanics as it came to life, a very clear threat to make him sweat.

The Moff surveyed the team surrounding himself and the Mandalorian, all weapons besides your own drawn and pointed at the doors as the constant thud thud thud of the dark troopers banged against the durasteel. But he only smiled wider as he looked at the crumpling steel, then at Din pointedly, completely ignoring you. “You have an impressive fire team protecting you. But I think we all know, after a valiant stand, everyone in this room will be dead…. but me…. and the child.” His eyes landed on you again, and it seemed like something went unsaid, but you didn’t get the chance to press him on it.

Rolling your eyes, you glared at him. “Can someone please shut him up?” 

An alarm began to beep from one of the consoles, a ship through the viewport catching your eye. 

Koska went over to turn off the alert. “An X-wing.”

Letting out a huff, Cara adjusted the rifle braced on her shoulder. “One X-wing? Great. We’re saved.”

After closing the distance between herself and another console, Bo-Katan pressed a button and spoke into the built in comm. “Incoming craft, identify yourself.”

Grogu had perked up the moment the ship had flown by, and it had made your spine straighten, too. When his tiny eyes met yours across the room, you smiled softly, lowering your blaster before switching it to safety and holstering it once again. 

Nodding to the child, you both tilted your head almost as if you heard something and smiled a bit more broadly. “I feel it, too, kid.”

Fennec spoke quietly, her voice a mixture of hope, but also wariness. “Why did they stop?”

That’s when you realized the steady thump thump thump of the dark troopers had gone silent. A glance at the screen on one of the consoles showed they all stood facing away from the door. They were ready. Waiting. 

Din looked at you, hands on your hips easily as you held the kids' gaze, then at Grogu, his large eyes blinking slowly but wide and alert as he looked up at you, and Din realized you both were completely at ease. Then he turned to Gideon, holstering his own blaster. 

Seeing the Mandalorian put down his weapons after a cue from a bartender and a baby, you couldn’t help the grin on your face as you looked down at the Moff, your voice quiet. “It’s over.”

Gideon scoffed. “It’s one X-wing.”

Taking a step closer, you shook your head, your voice a tad firmer. “It’s done.”

Bo-Katan lowered her blasters as she went to the console with the screen. She watched in silence as a lone figure emerged from the X-wing, ignited a saber and began to clear out the dark troopers. “A Jedi?”

The smugness melted off of Gideon’s face, and it made something in your chest pull tight in satisfaction. “What’s the plan now, Moff? Didn’t plan for a laser sword?”

Gideon hummed in thought. “Didn't account for two….”

Turning your attention back on the now silent door, everything seemed to stretch out. Time elongated, a second was like a minute, the space in front of you once only feet suddenly looked like miles. Nothing looked right, everything felt off, and you realized you heard absolutely nothing at all. No chatter, no alarms, no calming breaths as one of your friends stabilized their blasters.

Something was about to happen. 

The voices and the hum surged once again, tumbling back into your consciousness along with every other sound from the deck. They began to spread out, time almost seeming to slow further with them, and a low thrum filled the space in between. 

The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, and everything in your body told you to turn back around and face Gideon.

Turning as fast as you could, but what seemed so slowly, like you were moving through water, you saw the Moff pull a blaster and fire off a few shots at Bo-Katan, bolts of light ricocheting off her beskar left and right before she fell to the ground.

Reaching out, you sensed she wasn’t injured, so you kept eyes on the Moff, everything slowing down further as he turned to take aim at Grogu. 

But this time it was different. While everything else slowed, it was like you were moving incredibly fast.

You could sense the intent of the others before they acted, so you knew Din was going to dive in front of the kid to block the bolts with his armor, Cara was going to disarm him, and Fennec would make sure he didn’t move with the end of her blaster aimed strategically at him.

The scene resumed normal speed to your mind, everyone playing their part to a T. Din slid in front of the kid, shots bouncing off his armor, and every set of eyes on the deck was aimed at the Moff as he froze, blaster still pointed toward Din.

“Drop it!” Fennec barked, her rifle whirring to life as she took aim, Koska and Cara following suit.

After a quick glance around, Gideon pushed the barrel of the blaster up under his chin.

“Oh no you don’t,” you muttered, starting forward.

But before he could pull the trigger, Cara had knocked it out of his hands with the butt of her rifle, then whacked him in the face for good measure.

Moving faster than the air around you, you were at his side, towering over him with your saber drawn. Tip of the blade at his throat in seconds, you let out a long breath as all the voices and hums silenced themselves at once.

“Did you account for three?”

As soon as you ignited the blade, all the chitter and humming stopped. The quiet drone of the ship flying through space and the beep of consoles sounded so much louder than before as you focused on the tight expression of the Moff.

Gideon glanced at you down the length of the blade, fear in his eyes, but also something cocky. “Just as I thought,” he mumbled.

Before you could ask what in the hell he meant, the kid cooed near the screen displaying the rogue Jedi clearing out the ship, pulling your attention away for just a moment. It was such a relief to have him back in your line of sight again, you almost forgot about the villain at your feet. Almost.

Gideon continued to stare at you, the smirk on his face crawling ever higher, while the amusement in his eyes unnerved you.

“What?” You muttered lowly, trying not to draw the attention of everyone in the party to what felt like a private conversation.

The smirk melted into a broad grin, which in turn pulled your brows further together in question.

“Nothing. I’ve just had a realization, is all,” the Moff mused. “When all of this is over, and the dark troopers have left me the only one standing…. Perhaps I can be convinced to include you in the deal, as well.”

Your eyes narrowed to slits, the end of your saber getting just enough closer to his skin that any facial hairs would shrivel away from the heat. It followed him up as Gideon got back to his feet with a groan, Din stepping in to make sure the binders around his wrists were fastened extra tight. 

“You still think this is going to go your way?” Grip adjusting on the hilt of your saber, fingers stretching then tightening into a sturdier hold, you grinned as the Moff glanced down at the purple blade and swallowed tightly.  Letting out a huff of air, you held his gaze once it pulled back up to yours. “Fine. I’ll play. And why would I want that?”

Despite his nerves, his grin took a wicked turn. “You seem the type to be on the winning side.”

In a matter of moments you’d disengaged your saber, and closed the few steps left between you. A quick jab of your elbow to his chest knocked the wind out of him, then you flipped it in your hand to jam the butt of the hilt against Gideon’s temple, knocking him to the ground; the toe of your boot landed a swift kick near his spine, squarely to his left kidney to keep him down as he tried to scramble back up.

“You’re right,” you said plainly, looking down at him as the rest of the deck looked on in silence. “I am on the winning side.” Leaning down closer toward his face, you enjoyed how he shrunk away slightly. “It’s just not yours.”

“Don’t be so sure about that,” he grumbled, trying to get back upright. Struggling with his bound hands, his cape twisted over his shoulder obstructed his view, which only got worse as he tried to bat it away with his joined palms. The press of Fennec’s rifle into his spine made him still, his eyes fluttering shut as he let out a defeated huff through his nose.

You stayed close to his face, a smug smile turning up your features. “Jokes on you, Moff. I’m not sure of anything.”

Din sighed heavily off to your left, and you could just make out his head shaking in your peripherals, hand cradling his forehead as it continued to rock back and forth.

“Well I am,” Cara said calmly. “And we’re all gonna die if we don’t come up with a plan to fight these walking gear boxes.”

“We don’t need a plan, Cara. It’s being taken care of.” You pointed to the screen.

“One X-wing?” She scoffed. “You’ll forgive me if I have trouble believing that.” Her weight shifted to one side. “We need any ideas to beat these-”

“You can’t,” Gideon laughed. He turned to the side and spit out a mouthful of blood from when Cara had bashed him with her rifle. When he smiled, his teeth were covered in streaks of red, making his threat all the more menacing. He turned to look at Din pointedly. “You had your hands full with one…. Let’s see how you do against a platoon.”

You’d never seen Mandalorians look uneasy, but as you glanced around the deck, every set of beskar was shifting their weight side to side uncomfortably, sharing looks you didn’t like the sound of.

Turning back toward the screen, a sneer started up your face. “Sorry to burst your bubble, Moff, but it looks like you’re a few droids short of a platoon.”

Gideon was suddenly at your ear, but still on the floor at your feet. His words mumbled into his shoulder somehow reached you as if he was right next to you. “I’m trying not to take this personally, girl, but you need to make a choice. All of your friends are about to die. You can either join them, or join me. The kid and yourself would be safe…. Well looked after. I’d just…. Need a small donation of blood from time to time.”

Your eyes widened as you looked down at him. Meeting his gaze, he smirked.

“In the scheme of things, it’s a small price to pay.”

You jerked him up with an unseen force, holding him nearly nose to nose as you gripped your hands in the front of his cape to pull him down to your eye level. Every blaster in the room whirled to aim at the two of you, the whirr of charging mechanics filling the bridge. “The only price I’m willing to pay, Moff, is you at the end of a rope.” 

The man only blinked at you. You saw red.

Your hands clenched his cape so tightly you were surprised you didn’t hear the sound of stitches ripping under the pressure. Tugging him further down, you made him meet you eye to eye. “Now leave my friends and my family alone, you ass.” With a good shove, you pushed him backwards into Cara’s waiting grasp. “Usen'ye, shabuir.” (“Go away, fucker.”)

“The Mando’a language always fascinated me,” he mused, holding your gaze as he taunted. “So many words for such a stoic people. Too bad it’s dying out just like its speakers….”

You were closing the distance between you in an instant. “Ib'tuur jatne tuur gar kyr'amur.” (“Today is a good day for you to die.”)

Din stepped forward, catching your arm with his hand and stopped you short.

Gideon was grinning like a fool. “That’s not a good way to treat someone offering you an out….”

“You’re not offering me an out. You’re offering me a prison.”

“I’m offering you a way to walk off of this ship.”

Wrestling your arm free from Din’s hold - it wasn’t hard, he didn’t put up much resistance - you closed the final step between Gideon and yourself, toe to toe with him in an instant. Without hesitation you dropped to your haunches, extending one leg and spun. Swiping your leg under his, you dropped him back down to the floor with a thump.

Back on your feet faster than anyone could blink, you stared down at the floundering Imperial. “Sorry. Can’t offer you the same courtesy.” You shrugged. “Ni'duraa.” (“I look down on you.”)

Gideon huffed through his nose in annoyance, glaring up at you, but his voice remained calm, and somehow that was worse. “There was a time there was honor among Jedi.” He rolled from his side onto his back, propped up on his elbows.

“I am no Jedi.”

He nodded once, eyes staring across the bridge in thought. “And what of the Mandalorian Creed, where is your honor from that?” Gideons eyes landed back on yours, something in them sparking like he thought he’d won. Like a tooka with a scurrier.

“I am not Mandalorian.”

The Moff’s face crumpled in frustration, and he let out a huff. “Then what-”

You’d had enough. Taking a step closer so the tips of your boots touched the soles of his, you straightened your spine as you glowered down at him. You felt all the other bodies in the room shifting closer to you, whether for support or back up, you didn’t know, but it was appreciated all the same. Closest on your left was Din, the glint of beskar coming into your peripheral and causing the side of your mouth to twitch up. He was just close enough that his upper arm brushed yours. And you knew it was his way of saying “I’m here” without having to say a word.

“No matter what I am, you do not deserve my honor, Gideon. You deserve less than my absolute worst. You tried to destroy my home. You tried to tear apart my family and took my son. You’ve had a bounty on my head for months, and tried to get me killed time and time again. Not to mention whatever sick and twisted things happened in that base back on Nevarro…. I could go on, but you’re not worth the air it’d take to say it all. You deserve less. Less than the least I can give.”

Gideon smirked. “Passionate words for someone proclaiming to care so little.”

This time you smirked, and it made his falter. “That’s the problem. I care too much. But you don’t deserve any of it. I won’t let you. You’ve stolen enough from me. That ends now.”

“And she’s a bartender,” Fennec leaned in to say. “That above all is what matters most in my book.”

Turning your gaze up to look at your friend, brows arched as you shook your head good naturedly, you let your weight shift to one side. “You just want that drink I owe you.”

She shrugged, a smirk working its way up her face now. It seemed to be contagious. “Wouldn’t say no….”

Grogu cooed, resting his hand on the screen as the Jedi waded through the dark troopers as if they were nothing. Quietly moving to stand behind him, you placed your hand on his back gently, rubbing it in soothing circles as you lowered to your haunches to be on his level. “Yeah. I know. I feel it too, kid.”

Din was perched on one knee in front of the console, just to your left. When he spoke, his voice was low, almost sad. “Is it….”

You nodded, eyes never leaving the child. “One of the good ones, Din.”

He hesitated, his head tilting to the side as he looked at his ward. “So Grogu would be safe?”

The quiet warble in his voice pulled your gaze to his visor briefly, but just like always, the hard steel gave nothing away he didn’t want it to.

You looked back at the kid, hand coming up to rub the back of his tiny head. “He’d be with his own kind.” Bringing your hand back down to rest on his small back, you resumed the soothing circles before you stilled, staring at the screen. 

You were looking at the one who would take the kid away from you. After everything you’d just done to get him back. He was here. In your hands, your clan was complete and now it was about to be…. He was going to….

After your thumb traced absent patterns against his tiny, scratchy robes, you let your hand fall back to your lap, clutched tightly in your other.

Din’s visor turned back to you. “That’s not what I asked.” He sounded like he understood, but he also sounded confused, which made you smile softly. That was normal for this subject matter. 

Keeping your eyes on Grogu, you nodded once again, your voice every bit as soft as Din’s had been. “He’d finally get the training he needs. That he deserves.”

Din sighed heavily, his weight shifting slightly. “Mesh’la….” The one leg came up, and he rocked back on his heels so he was crouched beside you.

You continued. “Green sabers are consulars. They are wise. Think things through. This one should make a fine teacher if they adhere to any of the old ways-”

Din’s hand came to rest on yours still clutched tightly in your lap, his voice low in understanding. “Mesh’la, that’s not what I asked.”

Lifting your eyes from where they fell to study his hand on yours, you looked at Din as a sad smile twisted up the side of your face. “I know.” Swallowing roughly, you blinked back tears as you turned back to Grogu. The child was easier to face, yet your heart broke a little bit more each time you saw him. When you spoke again, your voice was barely more than a whisper. “But that’s the only answer I have to give.”

The Jedi was at the door now, taking out the last of the droids, while you and Din shared a long, loaded look over the top of Grogu’s head.

Once everything fell silent, Din turned his gaze down onto the child for a moment, his shoulders rising and falling with heavy breaths.

Din got to his feet, scooping up the kid, and turned toward the front of the bridge. “Open the doors.”

When no one moved, he strode calmly toward the entrance, setting Grogu down on the console you’d been sitting in front of when he’d come in. “I said, open the doors.”

Fennec slightly rolled her head in disbelief. “Are you crazy?”

Din pushed the proper button on the console, and the doors hissed open, revealing a shadowy figure in a cloud of smoke that had a green tint and the soft hum of a saber.

My dream…. You blinked rapidly as flashes of your dream on Boba’s ship replaced the scene in front of you, and they were so close it was hard to distinguish one from the other. It hadn’t been a dream. It was a vision. But then if…. The fight outside the cantina. That meant…. What else had you seen? As the saber disengaged you remembered in a flash reaching for the shadow of the child and he had turned to smoke through your fingers. Gone.

Turning to look at Grogu, you knew where this was going, and your gut sank down to the lower decks below your feet. You knew from the moment you saw the X-wing, if you were being honest, had felt it like the kid had, but…. You could hope, couldn’t you?

The figure emerged from the smoke, tossing their hood back, and suddenly having a form instead of a shadow made this all too real.

You’d just gotten him back.

And now he was about to leave again.

This wasn’t fair.

The hood now pulled back, you saw a young man about your age, blonde somewhat unkempt hair, and kind eyes that seemed to see right through you. It was hard to tell, but the longer you stared, it seemed like he had scars on his face, and curiosity from your days behind the bar nearly got the better of you to ask where they came from. His entire aura was kind and peaceful, a good match for Grogu, but something underneath hinted at something…. haunted. He was plagued by something bigger than him, something he could never shake…. But it seemed to have made him stronger.

Din stepped forward. “Are you a Jedi?” You couldn’t blame him. He’d defaulted into protective father mode. He was just making sure the child would be safe. 

“I am.” The Jedi extended a hand toward Grogu as he peeked around the chair in front of the console Din had set him on. “Come, little one.”

Din hesitated. “He doesn’t want to go with you.” He almost sounded hopeful, and that was nearly as heartbreaking as what you knew was coming.

“He wants your permission,” the Jedi corrected softly. “He is strong with the Force, but talent without training is nothing. I will give my life to protect the child…. but he will not be safe until he masters his abilities.”

Din turned to look at you over his shoulder, and it was all you could do to nod in confirmation. He turned back toward Grogu and went to get him out of the chair.

While Din stooped to pick up the child, suddenly a voice filled your mind. “And what about you, young one? Are you not coming, too?” Lifting your eyes to meet the Jedi’s you saw him focusing on the man in beskar and his tiny ward, only shooting you a fleeting glance before looking away yet again. “I sensed another. I know it’s you. You’re strong with the ways of the Force, like your little friend here. But I also sense much fear, much turmoil in you…. Without training, that will only fester and grow into something I fear you will not be able to contain.”

Shaking your head almost imperceptibly, you reached out into his mind, smiling softly in satisfaction when his eyes met yours briefly in surprise. “Thank you for your concern, Master, but I’ve made it this far on my own. The Force hasn’t abandoned me yet.”

Making your way over to stand at Din’s side, one hand resting on his pauldron to stabilize yourself, you smiled down at Grogu softly. Glancing at the Jedi out of the corner of your eye, you saw him looking at you.

The Jedi returned the smile. “Call me Luke. And it isn’t fear of abandonment that concerns me. It’s the opposite, actually. I fear it will overwhelm you, twist you into something you hardly recognize.”

Din held Grogu in front of him so that they were able to look at one another. His voice was soft and heavily affected, but you could tell he was trying to be strong. “Hey, go on. That’s who you belong with. He’s one of your kind.”

Glancing up at Din, you smiled softly before it quickly melted back towards a frown, your eyes falling back onto the child.

“I’ll see you again.” His voice was broken. “I promise.”

The kid reached up, placing his hand on the right side of Din’s helmet as he blinked his big eyes slowly. You had to look down at the ground to collect yourself. It was easy to forget Grogu was actually older than everyone on this ship until he did something like this, and let a little bit of that wisdom of his years shine through in his eyes. He may not be able to speak yet, but his eyes spoke volumes.

As he looked at Din, words surrounded you.

I see you. I know you. I love you. Thank you. I’m going to be okay. You’re going to be okay. Take care of each other. And something along the lines of Don’t forget to tell Peli I’ll miss her.

You opened your mouth to tell Din everything the kid was saying, but Grogu must have done you one better and passed it on to you both, because after a moment of stuttered breathing, Din reached up and removed his helmet.

Mouth snapping shut, your eyes immediately fell to his chest plate, wide before you blinked back tears. Then they returned to Grogu, a sense of calm washing over you once again.

You kept your eyes on the kid, not daring to look up at Din’s face, his cape clutched tightly in your right hand as your left cradled Grogu’s back. “As long as I have this, I’m not too worried about that.”

“That’s what worries me.” Your eyes pulled to Luke’s in question. “Things change.”

Eyes back on the child, you smiled as he peered up at you with a soft coo. “Some don’t.”

Grogu reached out toward the Mandalorian once again, his small hand touching the side of his cheek that no longer bore a helmet.

While you wouldn’t pull your eyes up to see the look on Din’s face, you felt everything you needed to. The room surged with love and calm, peace…. But also a great deal of sadness and longing. The mix was coming from both of them.

This was exactly what the kid needed, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less. Din called him his son around you once or twice, as did you, but you knew deep down he struggled with the technicalities of that relationship. Their bond was something deeper, more than just father and son, and he knew that. But Din was nowhere close to admitting that yet, and you couldn’t tell if it was that that hurt him more, or the impending absence of the child.

Either way, it swelled low in his gut, simmering in the background as he put on a brave face for his tiny ward.

“All right, pal. It’s time to go.” Grogu whined softly, his ears drooping down toward his shoulders as he peered up at Din. “Don’t be afraid.”

You felt Din’s eyes land on you, the child’s following shortly after. As you peered down into his big wide eyes, tears began to brim in your own. Reaching out and tracing the line of his ear with your finger, pinching the end lightly when you got there, you brought your finger to his small clawed hand, smiling and letting out a breath when he grasped it tightly. With a shaky inhale, you repeated the words you’d said when you thought he was staying with Ahsoka, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I would run for my life a thousand times over if it meant I got to know you again.”

Din lowered to his haunches, setting Grogu on the floor before rising back to his full height. You half expected to see him jerk his head toward the Jedi to motion the kid across, but he just looked at Luke, then down at Grogu, his head tilting slightly as the child clung to his boot and gazed up at him. 

It was a wonder you saw anything as he moved in your peripherals, tears blurring your vision as you stared down at the kid. 

Grogu’s soft babbles filled the cabin, making your heart hurt just as much as the Mandalorian’s responding silence.

The beeps of an astromech droid came from behind the Jedi, pulling Grogu’s attention away from his caretaker, and you let out a soft breath in relief. Din’s hand found its way into your left hand, clutching it tightly while your right still grasped at his cape to keep you upright.

“Last chance, young one,” Luke’s voice drifted into your mind once again. Looking at him, he didn’t even look at you, he watched Grogu and the droid, nodding to the Mandalorian after a moment. Once Grogu ambled over toward the Droid who bleeped and blooped at him, Luke stooped down to pick up the child, lifting back to his full height. Finally, he met your gaze.

“My answer is the same.” You squeezed Din’s hand.

Standing beside him, just slightly behind, you clutched his cape tightly in your hand to ground yourself. His hair in your peripherals was dark, curly, a mess atop his head you wanted to reach up and shuffle into submission.

You kept your eyes straight ahead on the kid in the arms of the Jedi, not allowing yourself to be the reason he broke his Creed. Technically he’d already broken it, removing his helmet for Grogu, but that didn’t mean anyone else could just walk up and stare. No matter how badly you wanted to.

He turned his head just slightly and you saw the dusting of facial hair out of the corner of your eye, grays mixed in with the dark. It suited him.

“Be careful, then.” Your eyes flicked back up to meet Luke’s as he continued. “Be mindful. I fear for the turmoil I see twisting away in you….”

With a small nod of his head, Luke held Din’s gaze once again. “May the Force be with you.” The Jedi’s eyes fell to yours briefly before landing back on the child. “Beware your attachments, young one. They can be your downfall. Even the best Jedi have fallen because of them.”

“You sound like a friend of mine….”

He turned to walk away with Grogu, but not before you caught the smirk starting up his face. “They sound wise.”

“She is. A Jedi herself, actually. Or used to be. Ahsoka Tano, taught me how to jump-” You shook your head. “It’s not important.” You huffed, shaking your head again when you saw Din turn to look at you out of the corner of your eye. “I meant she talks in riddles.” 

“Every great Jedi does.”

“So I’m learning.” You grinned. Looking into Grogu’s eyes one more time as you waited for the door to close, you winked at him, a soft grin pulling up your face. “Goodbye, kid. Don’t eat all the frogs.” He blinked at you with a gentle huff. “Be good.”

You could swear he smiled gently as he tilted his head to the side. He knew what you meant. Be good, yes, don’t cause trouble, but also be good, do your best. Show them what you’ve got.

Images of that first dream the two of you shared flashed through your mind. In the Temple where you covered him, your shadow giving him hope in a dark time, the vision giving you hope on your own difficult days.

“Kar'taylir darasuum. I’ll always love you. I have since before we met, ad’ika.” (“To know in the heart forever.”)

Din lifted his chin in acknowledgment toward the child, the motion blurring in your peripherals through unshed tears right before the elevator slid closed.

You hesitated, taking in a sharp breath before whispering one last word through the Force. “Goodbye.”

As the elevator at the end of the hallway closed, shutting off the last chapter of his story, Din let out a sigh.

Repeating your words from earlier when you first sensed Grogu on the cruiser, they now felt hollow somewhere deep in your chest as you sensed him drifting further away. “He’s going to be okay.” Silence hung heavy in the air, filling the void in your heart with cold, vacant fingers that gripped it tight. “We’re going to be okay.”

Din nodded once, the motion stilted in your peripherals, his voice quiet. “I know.”

Darting your eyes down to his helmet on the floor, you bent down and picked it up, gripping the cool beskar tightly as you stared down at it, careful to not look at his reflection on its shiny surface as he turned toward you.

The rest of the party shuffled out of the bridge, Cara dragging a mumbling Gideon with her. You tried to look at him, but Din’s hand on your chin pulled you back toward him before you could. Swallowing roughly, you stared at his chest piece, blinking once, twice before Bo-Katan’s voice made you let go of a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“I’ve programmed the ship to land on- Well, that’s not important. Our temporary base of operations until we take back Mandalore. Things are about to change now that you have the Darksaber. We….” She sighed. “We should talk.” After a moment of silence, she started walking out of the room. “We’ll be back on the transport. Meet us there when you’re ready to head…. Wherever it is you’re headed.”

The door slid closed after her, leaving the two of you alone in the bridge, surrounded by silence, aside from a few beeping panels as the ship slipped through space.

You could feel Din’s eyes on you, his hand still gently under your chin as he tried to tip your head back to look up at him.

Shutting your eyes quickly as he angled your head back, you kept them closed tightly, extending his helmet toward him. “Here.”

The weight of the helmet was removed from your hands wordlessly, before you heard the thud of it resting on the floor again, your eyebrow cocking in question. 

Your breath caught in your chest when his own warm breaths fanned across your face, dangerously close to where you’d thought about him being too many times. Out of instinct your hands wound up into his cowl to pull him the last few inches closer until you were basically one being, every bit of him a part of every bit of you.

Continuing up around his neck, your hands tentatively curled up into his hair, threading through the mess and earning a heavy sigh against your face, his forehead falling against yours softly.

Unable to help yourself, your hands continued exploring, pulling forward onto his face, mapping his features under your fingertips. Holding his cheeks in your hands, you smiled, a soft laugh of relief breaking through before suddenly the distance disappeared and his lips were on yours.

It was tentative and chaste, every bit what a first kiss usually is, but conveyed so much more than you expected, making your breath stop altogether. 

Pulling apart tentatively, lips still ghosting over one another’s, something passed in the silence, an unspoken understanding, before you both surged forward into a deeper kiss, letting it say everything that needed to be said. Everything that was being felt, every burden and elation. The sadness and relief. The complete and utter peace. It was consuming and yet not enough all at once.

Separating just enough to keep your foreheads joined, you took a deep, shaking breath, swallowing roughly as you kept your eyes closed tight, a smile beginning to twist its way back up your face. Still cradling his cheeks, his hands on your hips kept you held close, his thumbs tracing lazily back and forth.

He speaks, and your world stops. Your breathing turns rapid, your heart is about to climb out of your chest, and your stomach twists in some weightless way.

“Open your eyes, mesh’la.”

You’d heard his voice unmodulated many times, but for some reason, this time it caught you off guard, and you couldn’t find the words to respond. 

You pulled away just a bit, mouth opening and closing but nothing came out. Your eyebrows narrowed in confusion, eyes still tightly closed.

Din reached up and put his gloved hands over yours on his face gently, pressing them down, threading his fingers through yours and clutching them tightly, the leather of his gloves creaking as he did. He spoke quietly, his voice nearly a whisper as he said it again, almost pleadingly.

“Open your eyes.”

Xxx

Tags to come!

#din x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #star wars imagine #star wars reader insert #mando x reader #mando x you #mando x y/n #din x you #din x y/n #din djarin x you #din djarin x y/n #star wars x reader #star wars x you #star wars x y/n #din imagine #din djarin imagine #mando reader insert #the mandalorian #star wars #din djarin #mando #grogu #grogu x reader #the mandalorian reader insert #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x y/n

[monstersandmaw]

Male ‘yautja inspired’ alien x gender neutral reader - Part Nine (sfw)

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

___

Content: sad goodbye and time passing... Wordcount: 5085

Still not an actual yautja fic, folks. Hope you enjoy this part, and thank you for your continued enthusiasm in this somewhat unwieldy project. It means the world to me and your tags and responses give me life.

Catch up here:

Part One (sfw), Part Two (sfw), Part Three (sfw), Part Four (sfw), Part Five (sfw), Part Six (nsfw), Part Seven (nsfw), Part Eight (sfw)

Walking through the ship was like taking a tour across a movie set, and you almost tripped over your own feet as you stared around and tried to take it all in. Croc actually grabbed you and set you upright again when you stumbled, half-contorted in an attempt to peer over your shoulder without breaking stride, and you grinned at him despite yourself. 

You barely heard his explanation about their scanners picking up an enemy passing by the crash site about two hours after you’d left, heading in your direction. Apparently they’d grabbed their gear and run all the way to you, and even then had only just found you in time. You croaked out a weak ‘thank you’, and he chittered a fond laugh back. 

“Losing an arm hasn’t slowed you down at all,” you said, and he clicked something proudly at you. “How’s it healing?”

“Well. Commander has scheduled a fitting for a prosthetic the moment I’m back on the mothership.” 

The rescue ship had been alerted to the enemy’s presence too, while Big Red and Croc were charging after you, and the new team had diverted to your location to assist in the kill if necessary, then pick up Croc and Big Red, and destroy the carcass of the enemy creature. That done, they were to return to the crash site to collect the rest of Croc and Big Red’s salvaged gear from the ruined ship.

Apparently, that had all been achieved while you’d been passed out, and all that remained now was to destroy Red’s ship after take-off. They were willing to help humans out against the enemy which they themselves had brought to Earth, but they weren’t prepared to let a ship, with its technology and secrets, fall into human hands to be picked over by analysts and researchers. 

Entering the bridge through a sliding door in the bulkhead, you looked around, still slack-jawed.

Situated at the nose of the arrowhead ship, the nerve-centre of the vessel was illuminated by a huge, curved window that looked out over the forest in the grey light of the growing dawn beyond. Below it, a massive deck of navigational instruments and control screens hugged the contour of the ship in a wide arc.

Seated in what had to be the captain’s chair was the alien you’d seen tending to Red. Their colouring in the warm, low lights of the bridge seemed to be a mix of blood-red and burgundy, though you couldn’t see if they looked like Croc’s species or Red’s because they had a dark helmet over their head. Just visible at the back of their head were relatively short but thick ‘dreads’ that just brushed their shoulders.

They turned in the swivel-chair as you and Croc entered, and Croc bowed his head formally. 

The leucistic one who had helped you out of your harness drifted into the room like a ghost, and you saw that they too were wearing a helmet this time, though it was made of bone like Red’s, even though they had looked more like Croc’s species. Perhaps it was for the overall pale aesthetic.

Croc introduced you by name to the captain and first officer in their own language. Where the last member of the rescue crew was, you weren’t sure, but a quick glance around the blinking lights and glowing screens of the bridge showed you that you were alone with the two strangers and Croc. 

Perhaps scenting your anxiety, Croc took a small step close to you and laid his hand on your shoulder. His black claws curved right around the joint, but you felt a little of the tension ease out of you at the delicate pressure. He had your back. He wasn’t going to let anything bad happen to you.

“Hello,” you croaked at the captain, who twitched their head and said something behind their mask to the pale one.

At the captain’s orders, the first officer disappeared back through a different door on the far side of the back wall from where you were standing, and Croc guided you into the room and a little closer to the captain.

“So… I understand you’re going to try and drop me at the base?” you said and they nodded. “Thank you. Something has been blocking my GPS and satellite phone though,” you said. “I’m assuming it’s something on your ships?” 

Again, they nodded. 

“Ok. If you can deactivate it for a while, I can contact my superiors and tell them you’re going to bring me back, and tell them not to open fire.” For emphasis, you added, “That way I can take your High Elder’s message to my people and we can get the ball rolling on wiping out the enemy from Earth before it’s too late…”

So much for not being a diplomat, you thought smugly, though you didn’t let it show. You still looked like a ragged stray, with your torn and dirty clothing after all, but at least their medicine had healed your cuts and acid burns and bruises.

A moment later, the pale one — ‘Ghost’ perhaps, you thought for the lack of colour and the way they moved with eerie silence — came back into the room with only the hiss of the bulkhead door to announce them, and held out a metal cup on a tray to you. It was strange to see one of their kind that was so short, relatively speaking. You barely had to crick your neck to look at them. 

You shot Croc a quizzical look and he flared his mouth in a smile. “Water.”

Chewing on your lower lip for a second, you put your trust in these creatures to the test yet again and took the cup. It looked like water, but there was only one way to find out. After a cautious sip, you gulped the contents down and handed it back to ‘Ghost’. “Thank you,” you said, taking in both ‘Ghost’ and the captain with your gaze.

The captain rose from their chair and stalked over to you. Holy shit, if you’d thought Red was tall, this one had to have been nearly eight feet, and although they were not broad and hulking in the way Big Red was, they had a steady, almost sinister presence that almost made you want to step back into the safety of Croc’s shadow.

They wore pauldrons on both shoulders, and a small, battle-scarred chestplate, but their muscled midsection was visible above the armoured loincloth and articulated tassets that covered their thighs, and it was protected only by a flexible looking strip of lamellar armour that connected breastplate to belt down the centre.

Like Croc, they had greaves on, but no boots or shoes to cover their clawed feet; only a small, flexible sole that was fixed at the ankle and across their clawed toes like sandals. The skin around the centre of their stomach and inner thighs and arms was a pale, pinkish cream, but the red colouring deepened to such a dark, wine-stain red down their arms and around their sides and ribs that you were almost tempted to nickname them Merlot or Rioja. You didn’t dare though, and stuck to ‘captain’. 

For a long moment, they just stood there and regarded you. 

Knowing a little of what Red’s mask could do, you assumed they were running some kind of biometric analysis on you from their helmet, so you just stood there and waited, and tried not to squirm.

Eventually, they tilted their head in the way you’d come to recognise from Red and Croc as satisfaction, and you smiled and relaxed just a fraction. They clicked something to Croc, who nodded and then translated. “You will have to go outside to make your communications,” he said. “For a brief time, we will turn off the jamming signals and cloaking which is preventing you from making contact with your people. I will turn it off on our ship too.”

“The crash didn’t completely destroy everything then?” you asked and he shook his head.

“How do you think the Boss kept his room so cosy in that storm?” he snorted and then wheezed in your ear, “His attractive personality?” 

You snorted but quickly composed yourself. You had no idea how much the captain knew of your… ‘relations’ with Red, and didn’t want to get him into trouble. 

Croc continued blithely, “The engines were out, but the backup power worked fine. It’ll never fly again, but we could still access a few of the systems.”

You nodded and then turned back to the captain. “Just say when, and I’ll go and try it.”

While Croc needed to translate the captain’s words in order for you to understand them, they seemed to have no problem understanding yours.

Croc elbowed you. “Come on. I’ll come with you.”

It felt strange to be standing outside in the misty, dawn atmosphere of the crash site again. 

The outline of their broken ship seemed as familiar now as the landmarks of your hometown, and as you stared at it from the gangway of the second ship, you sighed. “Is it wrong that I just want to camp out in the woods with you two forever, and not go back home at all?” you muttered up at Croc.

He crooned fondly and shook his head. “Boss is the same,” he snorted. “You should make your call.”

“You’re keen to get going then?” you asked, dread pooling in the pit of your stomach. 

He chittered something in his language that had the ring of a name to it “— wants to blow this place up and get back to the mothership. We shouldn’t linger. They’re a good captain, but unlike the Boss, they have a temper…” he added in a conspiratorial whisper.

“And you’re already in their debt after they diverted here to save you, and then to help me…” you sighed. “I understand.”

It didn’t take long to reestablish communication with the base, and after getting an absolute earful from the team leader about not being in contact for so long, you explained the very basics of what had happened, and she listened in silence. Then she disappeared to check with her commander to get the all-clear for an alien ship to land on base.

It all seemed to take ages.

While you waited for your satellite phone to ring again, Croc paced back and forth between the ships, looking tense and twitchy. They had left themselves completely vulnerable to detection from all quarters now, and all so that you could return safely to base. They could have just left you there in the woods, maybe even blown you up with the ship, and returned straight to this ‘mothership’, but they had diverted for you, and they were lingering there for you. 

Eventually you heard back, and Croc came over to listen to the instructions too before escorting you back onto the new ship. With the message delivered to the captain, Croc took you back to their small infirmary to wait, and you sat on the edge of Red’s bed while he slept on. 

Ghost stuck their head in a little while later and chittered something shyly to Croc before vanishing again without looking at you.

“Commander gave the all-clear,” Croc said. “You’re going home.”

You looked down at Big Red and reached carefully for his large forehead. You trailed your fingertips over the hard bumps and ripples, and all the way around the protective ridge that covered the roots of his ‘dreads’, and sighed. 

Croc watched intently and twitched a mandible when you looked up at him. “He’s so still. Will he really be ok?” you asked in a whisper.

“Yes. He is sedated. He has much healing still to do. Their venom is lethal if an antivenom is not administered immediately…”

The memory of Croc stabbing him in the neck with a syringe crossed your mind and you nodded. “You saved him. And you both saved me. Thank you, Croc. You could have just left me to die out there, but… you came for me.”

He moved over to stand beside the bed and pulled you against his torso in a one-armed hug before leaning back and running his hand affectionately over Red’s crest too. 

“You should prepare for takeoff,” he said, sounding more gruff than usual. “It will not take long to reach your base.”

You had no visual reference for how high or how fast you were travelling once the ship had smoothly taken off, but not long after the engines had spooled up and hummed to life, you heard three rapid blasts from what sounded almost exactly like a sci-fi plasma cannon, and a muffled explosion followed. Red’s ship was gone, and with it a small chunk of the forest too probably.

You sat with Red in silence for the short ride. 

He slept on, slowly healing, and you slid your fingers into his where they lay curled and unresponsive atop the thin, warm blanket that covered his body. 

Strangely enough, it was the fabric that felt alien to you, not the creature beneath it. 

The ridges and textures of his palm and fingertips played across your skin and made your nerves tingle. You could still remember how his hands had felt across every inch of you, and you shuddered and let out a rough breath. You stooped and kissed his knuckles. 

As you straightened up again, the bone amulet slid free from your collar and dangled in the space between you, knocking against his side like a charm in the wind. You tucked it back beneath the fabric again so that it would lie warm and secure against your skin, and sighed and promised him silently that you’d wear it always.

The soft hiss of the door announced Croc’s arrival a minute or so after the ship had touched down and the engines had fallen silent, and he stood quietly, watching you for a long few seconds. 

Red still hadn’t woken. 

With a heavy heart, you stood and kissed his delicate, unresponsive mandibles one last time. “Love you, Red,” you whispered. “I hope you know that.” 

With tears in your eyes, you left him for the second time, and followed Croc through the ship. 

“I’ll go out first,” you said to the captain who was already standing at the ramp. They now had some kind of mini swivel-gun mounted onto their left pauldron, and their belt was bristling with knives and weapons. “Thank you for trusting me,” you added diplomatically.

The captain just nodded. 

Out of nowhere to your right, Ghost appeared to lurk in your peripheral vision, startling the living daylights out of you and making Croc wheeze a laugh at your reaction, and then the ramp began to lower.

On the concrete yard outside you found a semicircle of human soldiers, all with weapons trained at the ship. Croc snarled and instinctively took up a fighting stance, but you laid a hand on his stomach and he stilled. He did not relax. 

Turning to the soldiers, you yelled, “Don’t shoot! Do not fire! I’m going to come out alone and I’m going to walk towards you. I’m unarmed and unhurt.” You knew the agreed-upon procedure as well as the aliens and their captain did, but it didn’t hurt to announce your intentions. 

With a quick look at the captain, you murmured a quick, “Thank you,” and turned to Croc one last time. “Tell Red… Tell him I’ll never forget him,” you said, brushing your fingertips against the amulet. “Or you. I hope we see each other again.”

He bowed his head and clicked something at you that made the captain gasp and growl at him, but Croc ignored them and sank to one knee again, bringing his right hand up behind his head and pulling his ‘dreads’ to one side to expose the left side of his throat to you. “I am… indebted,” he said.

“Croc, you saved my life last night. You’re not in my debt…”

“Always,” he said. “I am yours before all else, my friend.”

“Ok,” you choked, trying to keep it together. 

You had no idea what the appropriate response to his gesture was, but you placed your palm flat on the side of his neck before sweeping it up to his jaw. 

With a fond stroke of your thumb over the hard, cool skin of his cheek, you said, “Thank you. Take care of yourselves for me, ok?”

He nodded, clicked out a little phrase in his own language, and then stood once more.

You turned and walked away down the ramp and towards your own people again.

No shots were fired, the captain’s ship was allowed to leave a few minutes later, and you found yourself at the centre of frantic operations for months afterwards. 

Naturally, there was an awful lot that you deliberately left out about your few days with Big Red and Croc, but you made it known that theirs was a highly intelligent species that prized an individual’s fighting ability and honour over much else, though they could be compassionate and humorous at times too. 

Those first few months after your return were some of the busiest of your life, and they numbered among the hardest too. You met several other members of the species who had come to be known colloquially as ‘Hunters’, and while none of them was like Big Red, you saw elements of him in each of them: in their power and posture; in their clicking mandibles and in the turn of their head; in the way their ‘braids’ would swish across their shoulders… But none of them was quite like Big Red, and you missed his calm stoicism and gentle kindness sorely. 

As a linguist, you weren’t directly involved in the planning of the worldwide hunt for the enemy species, but your connection with the hunters who pursued them proved invaluable. Word had spread among them that you had saved Croc’s life, and because of that, you had gained a certain amount of honour and respect. They seemed to look to you as a spokesperson of truth and honour, ranking above your commanders in their estimation. 

While that was flattering, it was also exhausting. You lived just off the base, but your days were long and the hours were not always sociable. 

“So much for not being a diplomat,” you muttered again to yourself one night after you’d spent three hours in conversation with Red’s commander. 

The female was intimidating, bullheaded, belligerent, and, you discovered after inadvertently cracking a joke when your exhaustion got the better of you, in possession of a wicked sense of humour. 

You got along rather well after that, on the few occasions you spoke directly to her, and she took you off guard once by mentioning in passing that Big Red had been sent back to his people on Secundus to recover and was no longer under her direct command. Croc had been assigned to a new team as captain of his own ship.

You ached to know more than that about Red, but you didn’t dare ask her about him in front of a room full of top military personnel, and the only time you could speak to her was during top secret briefings and meetings about the crisis. 

While you were managing to avoid looking like you had a pathetic crush on a Hunter, the world was busy organising an unprecedented cooperative effort to avoid being overrun by the black-carapaced enemy that had nearly eviscerated you in the woods that night. They acquired the name ‘shrikes’ for their tendency to display the carcasses of their dismembered victims, impaled on the nearest sharp object.

Soldiers from every continent were trained in the use of Hunter weapons and technology, sweeps of the planet were made, and eventually after nearly two years of humanity actually working together in a coordinated, international effort, it was determined that the shrikes which had stowed away on Hunter ships had been eliminated. 

In those two years, you wrote papers and studied their language and writing system with the aid of various Hunters, both in person and via video-link, though the latter was much more common. The few Hunters who came to Earth came to hunt or share weaponry, not to play teacher to curious humans about other aspects of their culture. Although it was physically impossible for humans to produce most of the sounds of their language, you came to understand it pretty well, and remained on base as an official go-between for the increasingly rare occasion when in-person contact was made between the species.

“So much or not being a diplomat…” 

You repeated your sarcastic little mantra yet again as you walked along the main road off the base late one winter night, heading home after an especially long day. 

At least it had stopped raining about an hour earlier, though the cold, damp night pressed in on all sides, sneaking its icy fingers down your open collar. You reached up and absentmindedly ran your finger and thumb around the smooth contours of the bone amulet that hung as ever around your neck, and sighed a cloud of billowing vapour into the dark night.

You waved in response to a soldier as she called goodnight to your familiar face from her patrol, and you turned to take the route out past the airfield that stretched away around the back of the base. This would lead you through a narrow band of pines that bordered the perimeter of the whole base, and then on to the estate of identical, copy-paste houses that had been built for those who worked on-base but were not military personnel themselves.  

Your eye was caught by the unexpected presence of a small, Hunter research ship sitting way off on the tarmac near the hangars, its gangplank down and with warm light spilling in a golden, watercolour wash over the wet ground. 

It was the newest model from the same series of ships that Big Red and Croc had arrived in, and the outline of its smooth, familiar, arrowhead silhouette made your chest ache. 

You hadn’t been aware that they were expecting any of the Hunters in person, and you frowned. 

With a tired shrug though, you brushed it off. If they’d wanted you there for more talks, they’d have kept you back. It wouldn’t have been the first time you’d been forced to endure an all-nighter, even after the shrike threat had been deemed largely over, but the Hunters had automatic translation software now that allowed for direct verbal communication in real time. It sounded a little creepy and emotionless, but it meant that those Hunters who hadn’t mastered human languages could still be understood. 

With another sigh, you kept walking, heading out of the back gate and calling another friendly farewell to the guards in their sentry boxes.

Adjusting your satchel on one shoulder where the strap was digging in, you slouched down the road, wondering whether there was actually anything edible in the fridge at home, and trying to decide if it would be considered dinner or breakfast at that time of night. 

On the road at the edge of the housing estate, in the shadows just before the small cut-through that led to your street, you heard running footsteps behind you on the main road that led through the trees to the base. 

You spun abruptly, wondering who was out there at that time of night. Perhaps you’d dropped something and one of the guards was running to catch up with you? 

As you peered into the darkness however, the running pattern slowed to a jog and then to a near-silent walk, and you strained your eyes to see along the dark road between the dim street lights that lined it at distant intervals. 

Far off, you could just make out the twin lights of the sentry boxes and the glow of the base beyond, but on the forest road you could see nothing but shadow between the street lamps.

Trying not to feel like the chump about to die horribly in a slasher movie, you cleared your throat and called, “Hello?”

At the sound of your voice, a tall figure moved in the dark and for a fleeting moment they were silhouetted against the lights and your heartbeat quickened. They were huge. Surely no one would dare mug someone who’d just left a highly-guarded military facility, would they?

Then, walking slowly towards you in the centre of the deserted road, the figure came to a halt beneath the nearest street light, watching you, and your breath caught.

Seven or so feet tall, wearing no more clothing than an armoured loincloth and a heavy duty belt, with long, unusually thin braids that flowed down from their large head, and with a bone-white mask covering their head, it was… it looked like… 

It couldn’t be… 

Could it?

“Red?” you whispered, swaying.

Standing twenty yards off, the figure nodded once and took half a step towards you.

You choked. “Red?”

He raised his hand and took off his mask, and you were running before his hand was back at his side.

Your bag slithered from your shoulder but you abandoned it in the road, not breaking stride, running, heart pounding. “Red!”

He lifted his arms a little way from his side just as you collided with him, and he grunted on impact. His mask dropped to the tarmac with a clatter. 

Solid, cool, and unfathomably beautiful, it really was Big Red. You’d know him anywhere. 

With your arms looped tightly around his middle, you held him so tightly he wheezed and then he clicked a fond little rebuke at you before swinging you around in a wild circle around him when he realised you weren’t going to let go of him. 

His arms tightened around you when he set you down again, one hand cupping your head and the other stroking down your back, and he began to purr.

A series of rumbling, wheezing whines left him a second later, and beneath the solid frame of his chest, you discovered that he was shaking softly. He lowered his head, his thin ‘dreads’ falling in a veil around you, and he buried his face at your neck. 

“Hey, it’s ok,” you said as tears rolled down your cheeks. His ‘dreads’ brushed across a couple and wiped them gently away as they wafted over your skin. “God, Red, is it really you? Is this really happening?”

He nodded but couldn’t seem to manage human speech just yet. 

“Was that your ship I saw on the base just now? The fancy new model?”

Again, he nodded and didn’t pull back. It wasn’t until his body went stiff and he tensed, twitching and then bringing a slow, trembling, clawed hand up to your collarbones that you got any more reaction from him. Even over the layers of fabric, he traced a fingertip over the lump that was his bone amulet, and then he did draw back sharply. 

With his mandibles softly parted in surprise, he stared down at you. “You… You still have it…” he croaked. “You… wear it.”

“Of course I do,” you frowned. “I only take it off to shower.” 

For a heartbeat, he didn’t react, but then you found yourself crushed in a second hug, somehow even tighter and more frantic than the first. “I missed you so much,” he rasped. “I wasn’t sure if… if you would still think of me.”

“Red!” you practically yowled in outrage, though since your face was currently mashed against his chest, it sounded more like a disgruntled cat than a human. “Of course I do! How could I ever forget you?”

For a long time, the two of you just stood on the road and hugged, but eventually you grunted as your spine protested the angle, and Red straightened and let go of you. 

You exhaled a long, steadying breath and then gave a weak laugh. “How long are you here for?”

Big Red gave a long, slow, rattling purr. “For a while,” he said. “With the threat of the creatures you call ‘shrikes’ eliminated, the High Council has agreed to station some of us here permanently as… ambassadors.”

Your eyes went wide and your heart soared. “You’re staying? Here?”

He nodded. “Two ships will be allowed to remain on this base. We will work with your kind on a number of technologies.”

“Holy shit,” you breathed, dizzy with disbelief. “You’re staying. And… And Croc? Is he with you too?”

Big Red laughed and nodded. “His ship is the second. He is due to land…” He checked his vambrace with a tap of his clawed finger, and chuckled again. “In one minute.”

“Holy shit,” you said again. “Let me get my bag,” you said, and you trotted away feeling like you were floating. 

When you returned, Big Red was still standing there waiting for you, and he took the strap of your bag from your hand and slid it over his shoulder. “You are tired,” he said. 

“Ugh, don’t tell me you can smell that,” you said with a cautious sniff of your armpit. “It’s been a really long day, ok? If you have a shower onboard that’s safe for humans, I’m going to abuse my privilege as your… friend and get into it.”

“Perhaps we can use it together,” Red shot back immediately, and you felt your whole body light up for the first time in a very long while.

When he chuckled and clicked something at you in his own language, you snorted in response. “Oh you bet I want you,” you said, and he flared his mandibles in surprise at your understanding. “I’ve wanted no one else since the last time you touched me.”

Red’s answering curses were colourful enough that it went beyond even your fairly extensive vocabulary, but you got the gist all the same and slid your hand into his, squeezing tightly. “I’m not sure if Croc will give me more grief for greeting him smelling like exhaustion or like sex. What do you think?”

Red shot you a knowing glance and you nodded. 

Who were you kidding? He would give you hell either way. 

You couldn’t wait.

___

Yay! Reunited! Time to start wrapping this story up in the next part, I think.

Next chapter -->

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#yautja #yautja inspired #feral #feral predator #feral predator inspired #yautja x human #yautja x reader #gender neutral reader #alien #alien boyfriend #monster boyfriend #exophilia #big red and croc

[whatanoof]

Of Angels and Promises

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Boba Fett x Reader

Word Count: ~12.2k

Warnings: fluff, smut, violence, swearing, sexual tension, rough sex, daddy boba is a warning all on his own, implied throne fucking

Summary: Promises are bad. They imply attachment and accountability, both  very hard to come by in the maker-forsaken deserts of Tatooine. Falling in love inspires promises that one isn’t able to keep, and you let your guard down with him.

You saw the ship. It soared through the sky, slicing through the air like an arrow. It was the same one that he had drawn for you on the rough sketching paper in your mechanic’s workshop, and it was even more beautiful in person. It was a cloudless day, and the green paint contrasted the sky perfectly. You could track every movement across the blue expanse and expected to watch the ship set down directly by your hut. But it didn’t. It continued, stretching farther away in the direction of the palace with every passing second that you stood, frozen in space and time. 

So you do what every other abandoned lover would. You ignore it and tell yourself that you were mistaken. It’s easy to pretend you’d imagined it. Because if Boba ever came back, he would come back to you, right?

A gentle knock on the doorframe rouses you from the depths of overthinking, and you accidentally slam your head on the shelf in surprise. “Shit! Motherkriffing, dank fucking farri-”

Your first name echoes through the building and cuts through your vicious curses like a bell, and you stop in shock. No one out here calls anyone by name. Your hand drops to your workbench and grasps a heavy wrench. You slowly approach the door and slide to one side of the frame to prepare an ambush. The voice calls your name again, and this time you register that it’s female, low-pitched and soothing. An arm appears through the doorway, and you swing the wrench with all of your might.

You expect at the very least to graze the limb appearing through the doorway of your workshop, but you’re sorely disappointed when you miss entirely. You stumble forward, off-balance from the misplaced strike. A hand seizes your wrist, torquing it violently to one side and forcing you to drop the makeshift weapon. Before you can blink, you’re pinned against the wall with your arm twisted behind your back.

“Let me go!” You struggle against the grip, but it’s too strong, and you grunt at the strain in your joints. “Please, I have water, maybe a handful of credits in the house.”

She doesn’t release you and your name is muttered sharply again. “Is that you?”

“You found me. If you’re going to kill me,” You turn your head enough to spit on the ground, “Tell Bib that I’ll come back to haunt him and shove it where the suns don’t shine.”

“I don’t come on Fortuna’s orders.” She spits the Twi'lek name like a curse. Now you’ve pissed her off. If you weren’t going to die before, you would now. “I come on Boba Fett’s.”

You stop struggling immediately, “What?”

“Boba Fett sent me to bring you to him.” You inhale sharply at the confirmation. 

Betrayal flashes through you like lightning. “Let me go.” The words are an angry hiss, reminiscent of a desert serpent ready to spit venom.

She does so and you turn, rubbing your shoulder. The woman is deceptively small, with dark hair in a long braid down her back. A form fitting leather tunic and coat accents her slim waist and fit body.  She’s wearing a helmet, though you can see dark eyes through the visor, and a long rifle rides on her back.

“Who are you? Are you a bounty hunter?” 

“I am.” You wait for her to reach for her rifle, “But that is not why I am here.” She disengages her helmet lock and pulls it off. She’s too pretty to be a hunter. You wish that wasn’t your first thought, because now you can’t help but stare. You’re vaguely aware that you probably look stupid, but you’re too busy gaping at her smooth skin and fine features. The only indicator of her profession is the stern set of her mouth and perfectly shaped eyebrows, okay you need to stop.

Because you weren’t mistaken earlier. Boba is back on Tatooine, and you’re not sure how to handle that after so much time.

---

“Come on, don’t do this to me right now. No, no no no no n--” A puff of smoke drifts from the comm unit, and you drop the screwdriver with a defeated sigh. Kriffing hell. Weeks of searching for the right parts, the blazing hope within you that you might be able to finally get off this ball of sand when you saw the Imperial signal boosting unit, all ending in a smoking and sparking mess in your hands. Anger flashes hot through your veins, and your hand flies up and whacks the communicator hard, hard enough that the stinging impact chases away the anger momentarily. Then the fury returns, doubling in intensity, and the sheer injustice almost makes your vision white out. 

The distant grinding of the sandcrawler shakes you out of your fervor, and you haul yourself to your feet with a sigh. Trading days always... intensify you. But you can’t afford to get hung up on one comm unit. It has been years of fried comm units. Even if you managed to patch together a working one on your limited knowledge, who would you call? A single name flits across your mind, but you veto it instantly. Even if he was in range, he wouldn’t come to get you.

So, back to the original plan. The long plan, the one that has stranded you on this planet for solar cycles. You busy yourself with the various scavenged parts that you’d collected over the past month, polishing and dusting the pieces until they glint like gems in the late afternoon suns. Every small scratch garners another twelve minutes of debate over whether the rebuilt astromech viewport would be worth the trade for the polished transparisteel, or the additional inhibitor units.

The first thing that’s off is the Jawas themselves. They seem… tense. No, that’s underselling it. They’re always high strung, running around and worrying about different bargains and barters. But today, they’re absolutely freaked out. Dual sun-stroked. High on their anxiety. Which is good for you; they’ll be distracted and maybe they won’t try to barter for your spare vapor consolidator again this time.

So you naturally pay it no mind while setting up your line of wares. You had a good haul this week, enough to make the water taxes this month.

The Jawas crowd out of the sandcrawler deck, and you greet them as you recognize them. A flurry of Jawaese flies around your head as they run about, laying out the wares for you to examine.  One scurries to your offerings this week: random parts and a series of old mouse droids that you had reprogrammed. They examine the small droids while speaking to each other too quickly for you to follow. Finally, they come back with two of the small droids, nodding to each other as they present the desired pieces to you.

“Got any working EC processors lying around in there to trade?”

They look at each other, and one says a single phrase that you translate roughly to, ‘Bring him out.’

“Bring what out?” But you’re too late and the Jawas are already inside, hauling a mass covered in sackcloth down the ramp. “Is that a patch-in droid? Where the hell did you scavenge a whole one fr…”

The second thing that’s off is the human body. They rip the sackcloth off of the form, and you trail off. “What in the kriffing hell is that?” After further examination you confirm that it is probably a he. His eyes are closed, and he’s lying in the sun too limply to be healthy. There are bruises and cuts on the skin that you can see, but he’s draped in dark clothing that has to be sweltering hot in the Tatooine suns. A Tusken gaffi stick lies pinned underneath his body. 

The Jawas erupt in a storm of chattering, waving their arms around their heads as you try to keep up your limited Jawaese. You crouch by the man. He’s breathing shallowly, and you don’t see any visible injuries, but dammit, you don’t know much about first aid. “Slow down, please!”

They don’t slow down, and you’re left scrambling trying to remember the difference between preterite verb forms while continuing to try to check on the man’s health. “He broke into the sandcrawler, killed your warriors, and took a nap?”

More unpleased Jawaese flies around your head, “He broke in, killed your warriors, and didn’t try to escape, just sat down and tried to interrogate you. And then you knocked him out and broke his legs.” The Jawas cheer gleefully in affirmation, and you sigh. A second glance at the man reveals the sunken skin around his eyes and the unnaturally pale color of his skin. There are white scars over his face that look like acid burns. “Maker, how long has he been in there?” The Jawas keep talking, but you’re not paying attention. He won’t last another day without attention, and that is coming from an inexperienced mechanic. You may not know medicine, but you can’t leave him in good conscience.

“I’ll take him off of your hands. Keep the mouse droids.” 

It’s a kriffing miracle that you manage to get him back inside your hut and onto the cot without pulling a muscle. You don’t even know if he’s going to wake up. He just lies there, and the weight of the situation slams down on you in a single crushing moment. “What the hell did I just do?” You rake your fingers through your hair, “Take in a dying stranger, why don’t you? Sign away half of your supplies, half of your food, half of your water, half of the credits meant to get you out of this damned place? Dumbass.”

He groans, and you start. He’s awake. With a heavy sigh, you face the newest burden in your life. “Here, drink some water.” You grab the half-empty jug from the table and kneel beside the cot. “You’re lucky that the Jawas decided to meet me today. If they had gone to Tokonu’s farm, you might not have lived through the next few hours.” You reach to prop his head up.

In retrospect, you shouldn’t have tried to touch him. There’s an explosion of movement, and you suddenly find yourself pinned to the ground, arms locked painfully behind your back. Maker, he’s half-dead, and you barely saw him move. “Where am I?” The growl is so deep that you can feel it in your toes, though the roughness of his voice suggests that it hasn’t been used in a while.

You look over your shoulder, and you see dark eyes piercing into you. A shudder runs the length of your spine at the predatory gaze, and you’re feeling less like an unlikely caretaker and more like trapped prey. This is a dangerous man, no matter the state of his health. Then he curses and the weight on your back lifts as he falls to the side and you remember the broken legs.

You shakily roll to the side and sit up, studying the man next to you on the floor, who’s clutching his legs and muttering rude phrases about Jawas and thieves that you’d rather not repeat. He’s older, with creased skin and a dark scowl contorting his features. Scars run the length of his face, adding to the aged appearance. His dark clothing masks most of his body, though you’re sure that the rest of his skin bears similar scars to the ones slicing through his features. 

“You done staring?” The rasping voice makes you jump and look away hurriedly, cheeks flaming red in embarrassment. 

You stand. You have to find a way to splint his legs. “I don’t see many other Terrans out here.” He grunts, and you hurry to your workshop. You need wood, or metal, or something straight. Fuck you’ve never set a broken bone before, but you grab the bacta from the back cabinet. Your gaze lands on the ladder in the corner of the room.

“Hey.” His head lifts when you re-enter the room, lugging the ladder through the door frame. You dump it on the floor in front of him, and he looks up at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Angel, I’m not going to be climbing anywhere anytime soon.”

You ignore the endearment and the sass, “I’ve never set a broken leg before. I need your help if you ever want to walk normally again.”

“You’re going to set my legs?” He asks.

“I’m assuming that you know how to.”

He doesn't confirm your theory, instead tilting his head and looking at you more seriously, “Big assumptions.”

“If you know how to break an arm, you know how to set one.” 

He just leans back and laughs, “You have a tongue on you.” You won’t dignify that with an answer, and his smile only grows. “Break the ladder. I need two straight planks.”

---

The massive palace is dank and cold, the polar opposite of the planet outside. It’s a new world compared to the heatwaves and sand dunes. The silence amplifies your quiet footsteps as Fennec leads you through the hallways. Speaking of which, she is absolutely silent. Her footsteps are nonexistent even on the cold metal floor. She put her helmet back on when you entered the palace, so you can’t even hear her breathing. The only sounds are the ones made by you, and the walls seem to amplify them to the point where you’re sure that wherever you’re going, you will be expected.

You can’t help but feel like you’re walking to an execution, though you haven’t decided if it’s your own yet. It could be. You don’t know if he’s changed. It’s been years. You’ve changed, that’s for sure. Actually, scratch that. You know that he’s changed, because he didn’t come straight to you.

You frown. There’s a piece of the puzzle missing, though you can’t place your finger directly on it just yet. After years of being tied to no one, of being perfectly free and independent, why would he come back to Tatooine?  What is tethering him to this desert of a planet besides his own suffering? 

Out of nowhere, a staircase yawns in front of you, and you hesitate slightly before following after Fennec. The arched ceiling opens into a large room that prominently displays a raised dais, though it all falls away when you see who is seated on the throne. 

It’s been a long time since you’d seen him, and you’d never seen his armor in color, only a sketch. The smooth green and red accents are color combinations that are in short supply on Tatooine, he cuts a menacing figure against the dark throne. He’s splayed out on a throne built for a Hutt thrice his size, legs spread and arms resting on the sides. It might be intimidating if it were a stranger, but you keep telling yourself that he’s not a stranger. It’s easy to imagine that he is, due to the blatant showmanship and armor. It’s been so long since you’ve seen him, but this suit of armor isn’t the Boba that you knew.

---

“What’s that?” You’re sitting at the workbench while he’s in a kitchen chair that was dragged into the workshop so that he could have a place to rest. He’s recently become mobile, though he’s only allowed to move under your sharp eye, making sure that he doesn’t try anything stupid that will leave him bedridden for another month. That would be another seven weeks of extreme food rationing and existing on supplies only meant for one. That being said, he mentioned that he was willing to lend an extra pair of hands in your workshop, and you’re not one to deny free help, so long as he promised to not push himself too hard. Your measurement tools were left on the table, and to your surprise, he picked up the stubby pencil and began sketching with it. The rough parchment now shows evidence of a human-like figure.

“My armor.” 

“What color is it?”

“Green.” Another purposeful sketch on the paper and there’s a prominent blemish in the helmet. “And red.” Stars, it’s like pulling teeth.

“Did you lose it?” Maybe you’re intruding, but you’ve been taking care of him for the past month, so you’ll excuse yourself from this one.

“Yes. These--” He waves a hand around his face, indicating the pale scars, “--are from a Sarlaac. When I fell in, I lost consciousness. Woke up without the armor. I need to find it.”

The Sarlaac pit is an execution site for those who oppose the Tatooine crime syndicate. You’ve never heard of anyone surviving either the wrath of the Hutts or the Sarlaac. “It’s important to you.” “The armor belonged to my father.” It’s hard to imagine the toughened man in front of you ever being dependent upon someone else. Though, you suppose that everyone comes from somewhere. You wonder not for the first time where this man came from. “It’s part of who I am.”

---

“Boba?” The name is a quiet whisper that echoes emptily through the chamber.

He says your name in return, but his deep baritone makes it sound so much more full than his did floating in the air. “Just as beautiful as the last time I saw you.”

“Can’t say that I can make the same observation.” You shift nervously. It’s too empty and cold in here, the absolute antithesis of the world you made your own. You can feel the dampness leeching the energy from the air. 

“That’s fair.” There’s a beat of silence.

“How have you been?” It’s a passive question, nothing more than something to say to break the silence.

“Good. And you?” The conversation is stunted and awkward, though it only used to be stunted. Now, you’re looking at this man and you don’t know him anymore. Even before, he was your friend above all else. Now you’re stuck making basic observations about him.

“You got your armor back.”

The helmet inclines once, barely an acknowledgement of a statement that you feel should receive so much more. “Found it through a friend.”

“Some friend. Am I going to get that story?”

“Later.” It’s infuriating, the distinct lack of personalization. For solar cycles, you had Boba. Then, nothing. Now you have Boba Fett, the bounty hunter.

---

“What’s your name?” You can’t believe it’s taken you this long to ask, though in all fairness, there’s not much need for names when there are only two people around for leagues. You simply speak, and he assumes you’re talking to him. He rarely speaks, so when he does, he’s always talking to you.

He doesn’t answer at first, only continuing to hold the sheet of metal in place so that you can continue welding it shut over the gap in the droid’s body. You don’t mind. If he wants to answer, he’ll answer. Though it would be nice to have a name to place to the stoic face. It would also be nice to have a name to whisper when you touch yourself at night. 

You hadn’t meant for it to end up like this, but you can’t help but admit that you had been setting yourself up to fail. Living with a man, especially one so tall, strong, so… kriffing dominant in how he carries himself? You’re just surprised that it took the dreams half a solar cycle to start up. But now you can’t stop thinking about how it would feel for him to back you up against a wall and pin you to the rough stone with just one of those wonderfully strong hands. 

“Watch it angel--”

You snap back to the present just in time to see your torch drifting dangerously close to your hand. You yank it away, but the damage is done and your glove is burning. He curses, bare hands immediately flying to the thick cloth and yanking your arm forward. A few rough pats later, and your glove is smoldering. Shit. That had been your last good pair. You sigh, pulling the glove off and getting up to find another. You snag a mismatched glove from the bottom compartment of your storage unit and settle back down to finish the job.

You’re two inches into the welding line when he speaks. “If I had known you’d be so distracted by silence I would have spoken.” The tone is dry and sardonic, and your gaze darts up to meet his deadpan one before flicking back down to your work in time to keep the welder from drifting again.

“No you wouldn’t have.” It’s the truth, based on how he doesn’t seem to have a snappy answer.

Finally, he sighs,  “My name is tied to my past. I’ve done some bad things.” This time, you know better than to look away from your work. 

You raise an eyebrow at the sheet metal, “I know.” You finish and click off your torch, settling it carefully down on the work station beside you. “No one ends up in a Sarlaac pit by following the law.” Air puffs out of him a little more forcefully than normal, and you squint. Was that a laugh?

“I wasn’t the one getting executed.”

“Didn’t take you for a clumsy person.” He doesn’t dignify the jab with a response, and you suppose that you deserve that. You examine the weld before pulling the torch back out. It’s a little sloppy. “Do you regret those things?”

“No. The sum of a person’s lifetime is found in his actions. Regrets or none, they are who I am.” That… is shockingly poetic considering that you’d only asked for a name. 

“You’ve killed people.” It’s not a question, there is no doubt in your mind of the answer, but you want to hear it from him.

“Yes.” A beat of silence. “Is that going to be a problem?”

“Depends.” You inhale slowly, trying to figure out how to phrase this, “I… understand that you don’t have an easy past.” He snorts at that, and you glower at him before continuing. “Tatooine doesn’t need more war.”

“You’re scared.” It’s a pointed statement, blunt and uncaring about the blatant assumption.

“No.” No, a million times no. You had not cowered in fear during the Clone Wars, you had picked yourself up and survived. But ever since Bib Fortuna took over the syndicate, violence had been minimal. You do not need more. “As long as you live here, I do not want you to be the one who brings it back.” You’re on shaky ground here, considering that you really don’t have much control over him or his choices. But this is the only request you have made of him so far.

He grunts in response, a thoughtful silence settling over the workshop. “You really care for this planet?”

“No. I fucking hate deserts. I’m blowing this joint as soon as I can.” You yank the glove off with more force than perhaps you needed. Whatever, it got the job done. You squint down at your calloused hands, “I just don’t want to be the reason that more innocent people get hurt around here. Bib does enough on his own.”

Bib Fortuna. The Twi-lek that currently commands the most powerful force planet-side on Tatooine: the crime syndicate that was left leaderless after Jabba the Hutt died in mysterious circumstances involving a Jedi and a Sarlaac execution. Wait a minute...

 “No violence?”

You shake your head, chasing away the puzzle pieces that just began to slot together. “Only self-defense.” You’re not unreasonable, Tatooine may be more peaceful than during the war, but lowlifes still exist. “And if you get a chance to get off-world, take me with you.”

“Steep price.”

You raise an eyebrow, “I saved your life. You may as well return the favor.”

“Fair enough. You have my word as a…” He slaps a hand over his chest, but trails off before finishing the sentence, as if only realizing then that his armor is not there. He amends, “You have my word as a man.”

An awkward silence settles over the shop again, though there is no logical reason why it should be awkward, giving you the moment to remember the seed of the conversation. “A man with a name?” It’s a fumbling and clumsy attempt to turn the conversation back towards your objective, and you can tell that he picked up on it. 

He looks at you with amusement, “Persistent.” There’s a half-beat of silence as he considers you. “You may recognize my name.”

“I live in the middle of nowhere.” You counter. “Who would I tell?”

“That’s not why I don’t want to tell you.” 

Oh. You can’t really think of a response to that, so you stand and begin cleaning your station. Rusty bits of scrap go into that bin, useful parts go into that one over there so you can tinker late at night when you can’t sleep. 

“I don’t know your name either.”

You turn a prop a hand on your hip, dramatically lowering your voice, “My name is tied to my past. I’ve done some bad things.” There! Another huff of breath, and a halfway crooked smirk from the usually grim-faced and unreadable man. You smile back, “Trade?”

He considers it briefly, “First names only.”

You grin. That’ll do nicely. “Deal.”

“Boba.”

You introduce yourself, “Nice to meet you, Boba.”

---

“Why are you back?”

“Are you not happy to see me?” He sounds amused.

“I am.” You shift back and forth on your feet. “Why am I here? Why are you here?”

“Because I wanted to see you. To know that you’re alive and healthy.” He’s avoiding answering. 

“That’s only half of my question.” Your voice becomes small, “Why didn’t you come home?”

“If I had come to the farm, Bib would have sent hunters out again. You know how that ended last time. You have to cut the krayt’s head off, or it will just keep coming.” You don’t miss how he’s avoiding calling the farm his home. 

“You don’t have to pretend, Boba. You have your armor and your ship, you don’t need me anymore. If you came back to take over the syndicate, I won’t be angry.” Even if it means that he’s throwing you away and not looking back. Your heart would heal.

“I--” He hesitates to finish the sentence, and your stomach drops as you expect him to confirm your suspicions. “I didn’t only come back for the throne. I still wanted to see you.”

 “If that were true, you would have come yourself.”

“Ang--”

“Stop making excuses.” Your gaze narrows onto the visor blade, meeting his cloaked eyes, “If you really wanted to see me, you would have come to the farm, not sent your lackey.  You have your armor and your ship. Why are you back?”

---

It’s all he talks about anymore. And it’s not like he talked that much before, so now ninety-nine percent of the conversations that you have with him are about the nearest pawn stalls, or the Jawa trading route, or the ship scrap yards scattered around the planet. He’s been moving about independently for the past two months, each day venturing out further into the sand hills in search of his armor. 

The jug of water is disgustingly lukewarm, but refreshing all the same. You swipe a hand over your forehead as you pace around, propping open all of the windows and shoving the door open. You don’t want to work anymore, it’s too hot for this shit. Late afternoon is the worst, hanging the promise of sunset overhead while continually beating the world into submission with the heat that makes it feel like you’re dragging fire into your lungs. With nothing better to do, you slowly sweep the floor of the house, brushing sand outside just as it continues to blow inward.

The moisture vaporator is functioning passably, your supplies were restocked two days ago, and you made decent headway in your workshop. Nothing is urgent enough to spur you into action. All there is to do is wait for Boba to come home. That’s the brightest point of your day; seeing his figure appear in the shimmering heat waves as he treks through the sand towards you.

He still doesn’t talk much. Neither do you, but there is a comfortable sense of companionship every night when you set the meal down and eat together. If conversation is needed, then it’s needed. But until then, you’re content to sit with him. He’s my friend. The stark realization nearly makes you stop in your tracks. You’re friends with the gruff man who you took in with two broken legs and who leaves you alone for the better part of the day. The man who you imagine on the rough nights when you long for a body beside you.

Finally, finally it’s sunset. You climb to the top of a nearby dune. He’s there in the distance, he always is. You watch the suns sink beneath the horizon and turn to head inside. 

You don’t hear him come in, though to be fair, you never do. You expect him to sit at the table. Instead he appears at your elbow, silent as a wraith but as large and solid as any human. You nearly jump out of your skin, “Stars, Boba, you kriffing scared m--” You turn, but are stopped short because he’s right there, crowding you against the counter and there’s something feral in his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

He’s breathing heavily through his nose, face hovering an inch away from yours and gaze fixed on your lips. Your eyes are glued to his almost black ones. His flick up to meet yours. You can smell him, something spicy and musky that’s drawing you in. Stars, you want to fuck him. 

Your eyes flicker down to his lips and the tension shatters. He shoves past you, planting his hands on the counter. He hasn’t changed out of his gear, and the gaffi stick sways threateningly on his back. The tip is darkened and shines in the dim light of the lantern. 

Dread pokes your heart. “Boba, are you hurt?” You try to look over the rest of his body for hints of injury, but his baggy clothing masks his body. He seems to be moving fine.

There’s a strained silence before he rips himself away from the counter and stalks away with a terse, “I need to change.” He halfway out of the door when he stops, and you watch him carefully as his head turns back halfway. “Meet me in the bedroom.” The ‘fresher door bangs in the distance, and you nearly collapse against the counter. 

You’re not sure how you make it to the room. You’re a trembling ball of nerves, anxious and fidgeting as you stare at the corner of the room. He killed someone. Someone is dead, because of him, and he doesn’t seem to be torn up about it. Only… tense. Like he’s more concerned about the consequences on you than him. You remember his promise.

He’s standing there now, dressed in clean clothes and looking at you like you’re the most complex problem in the room. He seems calmer, though he’s in this mode that you can’t describe with a single word, though you had witnessed it before when you first brought him into your home. There’s a feral intensity about him, almost primal. You don’t know what to say, so you keep your mouth shut.

Finally, he speaks, “I would never hurt you, angel.”

You nod. There’s a shared understanding of this, though it had never been verbalized. He has your back, and you have his. A mutual survival and benefit exists between you two. 

“Will you come here?” There’s an underlying question to read in the rasped question. Will you go to him? There’s also a warning. He’s not a safe man, but you’re willing to ignore your fears about that if it means you'll have him. You stand and walk towards him purposefully, each step sealing your choice. You stand in front of him, barely allowing yourself to breath as he scrutinizes you. A hand comes up and tilts your chin upwards carefully.

And then he’s kissing you, more like absolutely devouring you with how far his tongue is down your throat. It’s sensory overload, because all at once he’s so close and so there right in front of you, pressing against your front so closely that you can feel him hardening against your thigh. His hand comes up to tangle in your hair, and you gasp as he yanks your head back. 

“I don’t know if I can be gentle, angel.” His pupils are blown, dark eyes even blacker with desire and boring into yours. You can see the restrained lust in his eyes, and you shiver at the silent promise in them.

You grin, only barely aware that it’s slightly feral, “No one asked you to be.”

His own responding smile is nothing short of primal. “Maker, you’re fucking perfect.” His hand roughly smooths over your hair, and you melt into his touch. “Now strip.”

You can’t yank your shirt off quickly enough, but he stops you as soon as the offending fabric flutters to the ground. A hand traces over your collarbone, the rough calluses scraping over the crisp outline of the ink. “What’s this?”

You hesitate before answering, “It’s, uh, it’s artistic.” He makes his skeptical face at you, and you step in closer to him, pressing your body against his more clothed one, “I saw the design in a shop and liked it.”

The distraction seems to work, because he crushes his mouth to yours again, his hands removing the rest of your clothes so that you stand completely bare before his piercing gaze. You fight the urge to cover yourself. He has this way of making you feel like an open book even when you’re clothed, and now you feel that he can look into your soul without any other barriers.

“Beautiful.” The compliment is growled into the tension filled air. Blood rushes to your face, and you duck your head shyly. A hand tilts your chin back upwards to meet his eyes, “Get on the bed.”

He pushes you backwards gently so that you land on the mattress, bouncing slightly as you watch him remove his coverings. With every delicious inch of skin revealed, you feel another shot of heat between your legs. You hadn’t seen much of his body since that first day, and it’s like watching a gift unwrapped in front of you. When he pulls the last of it off, your eyes unavoidably drift between his legs, and your heart stutters at the sight. Stars he’s thicker than you’d expected. 

You don’t get anymore time to overthink because then Boba is caging you to the mattress with his body. Your breasts heave, nipples brushing against his chest with every inhale. One thick finger slides through your folds, and you almost cry at the contact. Maker, you’ve wanted this for so long. He pushes into your heat and you swear your body seizes at the sensation. 

Boba grunts, “Angel, you’re so tight.” His hips jerk seemingly of their own volition against your leg, his erection sliding over your skin. “Want to be inside of you. But--” He adds another finger, scissoring his fingers to stretch you out more, “--I think I’d break you.” 

The heel of his hand grinds into your clit, “Boba. Please, fuck. Told you not--” He curls his fingers against your g-spot and you gasp, “--not to be gentle.”

He pulls his fingers out with a growl and flips you around to your hands and knees. You shiver in anticipation as you glance over your shoulder while he aligns his hips to yours. He barely gives you any time to prep before he sinks into your heat. 

Oh shit.

He is so much thicker than you expected. The stretch burns so good, and-- you spare another glance over your shoulder as it just keeps coming. Your arms give and you collapse to your elbows with a whine. Your teeth clench as you focus on taking him, and your hand slaps the mattress as you tense. He stops behind you, “Angel, you need to relax.”

You exhale shakily. Fuck, you can’t relax, it’s too much. He’s going to split you in two. You’d told him to be rough, but you hadn’t been prepared for this. So you crouch on the bed, trying to breathe enough to allow yourself to form words. 

“I can stop.” His cock inches marginally out of you, and you panic. 

“No! Fu-- keep--keep going. I can do it.” He’s holding himself back. You can tell in the tiny quiver of his hips as he inches further into you. All you can focus on is the feeling of him rubbing against the inside of your cunt. His fingers rub your clit, and a garbled moan escapes your throat as your hips press backwards into him. The pain mixes with pleasure, a bone-deep one that you feel through your entire body as it arches against the bedsheets.

When his hips finally fit to yours, you let out a breathy moan. But he doesn’t continue. He just rests there, which is ridiculous considering how every nerve ending in that region of your body is firing with pleasure and how is he staying so still when this feels like fucking paradise? You might go insane just lying here with him bottomed out so deep inside of you that you can feel it in the back of your throat. His hand leaves your clit to grasp your waist. He eases out of you, the satisfying fullness retreating until the head of his cock hovers at your entrance, just barely inside of you. He’s teetering on a cliff, all of that potential energy built up behind his body as he hovers there, waiting for something. He’s trembling, Boba is trembling as he waits for something that he never asked you for. There’s molten lust creeping through your veins, you need him to move, to fuck you nine ways to next week. “Move. Please. Need--need it.”

He rolls his hips forward and you swear the world implodes behind your eyelids. He doesn’t stop this time, just yanks you closer on the bed and fucking wrecks you. The pace is unforgiving and rough, and the obscene slapping sound of skin on skin echoes through the small home, making you ever more grateful that there are no neighbors for miles.

A whine escapes your throat before you can help it, and you clap a hand over your mouth. He chuckles as he pushes back into your dripping pussy, “Oh, you like that angel?” His hand seizes your hair and drags your back flush against his body, “Ah ah ah. Take it off your mouth.” You do so, your hand trembling, “I want to hear every.” Thrust. “Beautiful.” Thrust. “Noise.” Thrust. You could almost feel him in the back of your throat with that last one, and a strangled cry is ripped from you. “Understand?”

You whimper and nod at the velvety purr against your throat and he hums in satisfaction. “Good.” He shoves you back down onto the sheets, one hand pinning you to the cot by your neck, the other curling around your waist. Without your hand to muffle the noises, your sounds come without you intending; choppy moans that are only broken by the force of his thrusts. He’s anything but quiet himself, a series of soft grunts and curses coming from the general vicinity of his head as he continues to slam into your body.

Your orgasm peaks without warning, ripping through your body before you can think to prepare yourself for it. The climax ripples outwards from your center, white flashes appearing behind your eyelids as you keen high in the back of your throat. Your floor muscles clamp down on Boba, and his rhythm stutters.

“Angel--” With a curse, he rips himself out of you, painting your ass with his release. You’re in a daze of pleasure as you come down from your high, the sheets smooth beneath your cheek and his cum warm on your back. He pulls the sheet, and you whine in protest as he yanks the comfortable bedding from underneath you. He cleans you up with the cloth, tossing it to the side into a random corner of the room.

It’s dark now. The only light in the room comes from the flickering lamp in the corner. Boba pulls blankets over your cock-dumb body, and you snuggle down into your bed, fully expecting him to leave. He doesn’t sleep much, but when he does, he naps on the floor with a blanket or two. You don’t expect him to climb into bed behind you, arms wrapping firmly around your waist and pulling you close to him. You drift before finally surrendering to peaceful sleep.

You wake when he moves behind you. The sunrise glints through the window, spraying warm light around the room. You’d have to get up soon, but not yet. He doesn’t have to go. You turn and look at him.

Your voice is raspy with sleep, but it cuts decidedly through the silence of early morning. “I trust you. You know that, right?” You don’t wait for an answer, because if you don’t say it now, you probably won’t have the courage to do it later, “It’s not hard to earn my trust. It’s hard to keep it, and even harder to regain it.” He’s quiet, and you can feel his deep, even breaths against your front and how his arms tighten fractionally around your waist.

He rolls over, and you feel the mattress dip as he stands. “I need to cover another sector by tonight.”

You turn on your side so that you can’t see the door. Best not to get attached anyway.

---

“Should I be calling you a title or something?” You’re hesitant to refer to him as anything in your mind. He’s just Boba. Not your boyfriend, or your lover, because you only name things you expect to endure. If you find a super cute loth cat, but you can’t keep it, you don’t name it, that's just a rule of life. Don’t label it if you don’t want to keep it. Don’t get attached to something that will not stay. “Lord Boba? King Boba? Master?”

He snorts, “Not necessary, Angel. Though I wouldn’t mind that last one.” You blink at the old nickname, the familiarity of the endearment stirring up emotions that you’d thought had long since been buried. “I’m still me.”

“Are you?” The question slips out before you can think to restrain yourself, the tone more accusatory than you expected. 

“Do you want me to be?”

Now you’re the one caught off guard. You had thought about it, in the empty silence while he was gone, when the bed was too cold and empty after so much time adjusting to his weight on the other side of the mattress. No decision had been made. But once, in the darkest hours of the morning, right after you’d made yourself cum on your own fingers that couldn’t hope to measure up to him, you’d wished. You had wished that you had labelled it when you had the chance. Because maybe you had wanted the relationship to stay. 

---

“Why do you call me that?” The words are whispered into the darkness of another early morning. He’s curled around you, the heat of his body keeping you warm despite the freezing cold desert night. You need to start thinking about getting up soon. It’s a new day, a fresh start, a time to restart. Chores are waiting, like they always are. But you can’t seem to bring yourself to want to move when he’s at your back.

He shifts, breathing in the scent of your hair, “Call you what?” His arms tighten around your midsection and you wiggle slightly in his grip, your hips pressing back against his half-hard length. “Ohhhh, angel you’re going to start something that you won’t be able to finish.” 

You turn so that you’re facing him in the darkness, his features just a ghost of an outline against the early dawn rays glowing faintly through the doorway. “That. Angel. Why do you call me that?” He grinds against you, and you stifle a whimper at his heavy erection against your thigh. “Stop distracting me.” 

He sighs heavily, but he does stop and allow you to regain your focus,  “I call you angel because of that first day. Do you remember?”

You roll your hips against his, “Hard to forget.”

“Yes.” His teeth sink into the bare flesh of your shoulder, licking and sucking until you’re sure that there’s a mark. “I was in that sandcrawler for days, it’s a haze in my memory. Just blinking in and out, hoping that the sound would stop, that the world would stop moving, that those damn creatures would stop jeering at me for just a few minutes.” Your hand slips down and grasps his erection, and he inhales sharply, “And--and then. They’re grabbing me and dragging me out of that hell. And you’re there, standing above me, framed by the suns. And my first thought was that you--” He grunts as he thrusts up into your fist. His cock is leaking profusely over your hand, and you swipe your thumb over his head, “-- you must be an angel. How could you be anything else? You saved my life.”

“Bold of you to think that I’m from heaven.” With a wicked smile, your other hand drops to fondle his balls, massaging the flesh in your hand as you continue to slowly jerk him off. He snarls quietly, hand anchoring in your hair and tugging your head back so that he has access to the bare flesh of your neck and shoulder. 

“Now, you’ve become more of a devil in my bed, my angel of death.” His teeth sink into the juncture of your shoulder, no doubt leaving a mark. You were prepared for the pain, but you weren’t ready for his hand zeroing in on your sensitive clit, rubbing with the exact amount of pressure that could cause you to come in seconds, and you have other plans. 

You roll on top of him, swinging your leg over his hips and positioning his head at your entrance, “So you try to break the arm of every angel you encounter?”

“That was your fault.” You can hear the smirk in his voice as his hands reach to grasp you around the waist. “For pushing me, like you are doing now.” His hips roll up, and your eyes roll back. The day can wait.

---

The surge of emotions only serves to make you more frustrated, and that’s not going to help matters. You may have a long fuse, but once your anger ignites, it burns hot and long. He knows this, and yet he continues to push you. “I came down here because I owe you one, for saving my ass. So you better talk if you’re going to keep me here.”

“I saved your beautiful ass twice in return.” He’s amused, and that only serves to make you angrier. “So you owe me two, one for coming and one for staying while I explain.”

Hell no, he doesn’t get out of this by throwing in a shabby compliment, though you furiously fight the rising embarrassment all the same, “No, the first one repaid me for dragging your dying carcass out of the sandcrawler. And the welding incident hardly counts, so you’re on thin fucking ice right now.”

“Angel--”

“No, you are going to stop with this pretentious bullshit and tell me what the fuck you think you’re doing.” Your arms are waving in the air, you’re on the verge of hyperventilating, your voice is rising in pitch and you’re vaguely aware that you shouldn’t be working yourself up like this, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to care, because he’s there. And you’re here, at the foot of the throne.

“Why are you so angry, angel?”

A laugh explodes out of you so forcefully that your throat stings, “Your fucking audacity, is pissing me off. You leave without explaining. You come back, and don’t think to come to find me yourself. You send your incredibly attractive, what are you, his sidekick?” Fennec raises her chin in response, though you don’t know if that’s a confirmation or not. “You drag me down here where I find out that you’ve killed Bib Fortuna and become Tatooine’s newest crime lord. And yet, you still haven’t shown the basic decency of telling me why I’m here. Do you have to kill me because of some new fucked up bounty hunter code? Because you know that I won’t go down easy, whether you have me two to one or not.” You’re scarily aware of Fennec’s gaze boring into the back of your neck.

Silence screams into the empty air as Boba freezes on the throne. “You know.”

“That you’re a bounty hunter? I’m not an idiot. It was smart to not give me your last name that first time I asked. As soon as the hunters told me, I knew. Jango Fett was your father.” The name drops a bombshell in the center of the throne room.

“What do you know of Jango Fett?”

“Not much. Only what Hondo told me.” Hondo Ohnaka. The pirate, the outlaw, the man who had morals enough to take in a starving child rather than leaving her to die.

“Hondo Ohnaka.” He leans forward, clearly interested once he recognizes the name. “But you’re not Weequay.”

“Fortunately, the man cared for children. He wouldn’t abandon one in need. He fed me, essentially raised me.” You’d been caught picking his pocket. Instead of killing you, Hondo took you in. You feel the corner of your mouth quirking up at the memory of the old pirate and the small-time smuggling jobs he’d allowed you to help out on, with your small size and quick fingers. “He’d always remind me that he used to be a feared outlaw throughout the galaxy, and that he wouldn’t be as soft the next day.”

“But he kept you anyway.” 

You shrug, “He lived by a code.”

“The pirate code?” There’s skepticism in his voice, and you don’t blame him.

“Hondo… didn’t exist by societies’ laws. He was honorable, but never good. Told me to be the same.” The advice was the best that you’d ever gotten. It allowed you to move on from guilt, to live isolated from the chaos of the galaxy. It taught you to live on your own and to be independent, to not feel for the suffering of the collective galaxy. But it also commanded you by the morals that saved your life. Don’t steal from the poor, but the rich won’t miss a handful of credits. Don’t hurt a sick child who’s just trying to eat. Don’t kill a helpless enemy, even if he hijacked your ship and crashed it onto a desert planet in the middle of nowhere. Leave him to die in the sand instead. 

“I was stranded on Tatooine a few years ago. I had no money, and no ship. I found the abandoned farm, and put together something so that I could save enough to escape one day.” No communicator either, and you’d only just struck out on your own too. Hondo was lightyears away by the time you’d thought to try to comm him, and none of the technology was current enough to reach that far. You’re pretty sure he wouldn’t have come to pick you up anyway. “Whe--” Your voice breaks, and you curse your emotionally sensitive vocal cords. You clear your throat, “When you left--” “You think that I could have taken you with me.”

“You could have!”

“It was dangerous, angel. I hated that I had to leave the way that I did, but--”

“You smeared bacta on me and disappeared. Was I supposed to feel happy?”

---

The day he left started the same as any other. The moisture filter needed replacing, but you didn’t have the credits yet. So you had a date with an ancient filter and your multitool. You look up, flicking hair out of your face when you hear the footsteps behind you. “Hey.”

He doesn’t answer, as per usual, but he nods and rubs your hair with a gloved hand. “I’m scouting towards the flats today. Only a day trip, I’ll be home before dark.”

“Sounds good. See you.” You turn back to your multitool. You’re too focused on tweaking the settings to allow for a greater flow rate to see him smile, a rare one-sided grin before he turns to leave. His path takes him south, so he doesn’t see the three dark shapes in the heat waves approaching from the north.

The vaporator beeps loudly, protesting the absence of the filter and loudly proclaiming that it needs the filter to harvest water from the atmosphere. You tune out the obnoxious sound. After a ten minute struggle, you snap the filter’s frame out of place, exposing the internal wiring. You’re going to need a smaller drill point to reach the last resistor knob. You walk towards the workshop, wiping the sweat out of your eyes, fiddling with the screen as you do so. You’re too distracted by the tech in your hands to notice the figure slipping around the outside wall of your hut.

You grab the smaller bit and unlatch the last knob, absentmindedly walking outside to get better light into the inner workings. Despite the heat, Tatooine’s afternoons were perfect for mechanics, with the twin suns illuminating all but the tiniest crevices. Unfortunately, with your attention elsewhere, it doesn’t reveal the crime syndicate members waiting outside your door. 

The air rushes out of you as something slams into your midsection, effectively knocking you onto your ass on the sand. The filter flies out of your hands, but you’re focused instead on the helmeted figure standing over you, vibroblade levelled at your throat. “Where is he?”

Your hands are shaking as you raise them in the air, attention fixated on the masked figure. Adrenaline surges through your veins, and you almost don’t notice the second one hanging back near the wall. A third, the only unhelmeted one, stands beyond the first, smiling nastily. The blade grazes your throat, and you whimper at the cool metal against your skin. “I said. Where is he?”

“Who? Maker, please, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Fett! Boba Fett!”

Your stomach drops at the surname. The hunter curses viciously, holstering the weapon and grabbing you by the front of your shirt. You’re yanked to your feet, “Intel said that he’s here, so I’m guessing that you’re his little pretty piece on the side.” An arm presses over your throat, and you gasp as your airway is almost cut off. “Where is he?” The question is purred into your ear silkily. 

He must be insane if he thinks that you’re giving him that information. “I don’t know, he said he’s going towards the Dune Sea today. I swear, he’s gone. Left an hour ago.” You inhale sharply as the blade stops against your jaw.

“You’re pretty.” Your stomach turns at the sneer, and you fight the urge to bite him. Better to bide your time. “But an awful liar.” The angle changes so that the point is pressing into your skin and you cringe in anticipation of the cut.

A sharp command rings through the air and your captor stops. You exhale shakily, but don’t allow yourself to feel any hope. Boba’s gone and will be all day. They’re going to kill you, or use you as leverage when he returns. Or both. You’re not getting out of this alive, but you’re not going to lay down and die. Your eyes fix on the knife in front of you, but you’re visualizing where the hunter’s holster is.

Blaster fire explodes behind you, and you duck as sparks shower down onto you and your captor slumps to the ground. You don’t waste a second, ducking to rifle through the hunter’s pockets, snatching the blaster. Boba is there, features contorted in rage. He’s standing over a body, blaster in one hand and his staff in the other. Your eyes lock, and for a moment, you can almost hear him asking if you’re okay. You nod your head almost imperceptibly, but he gets the message.

A laugh rings through the air, and the moment shatters. There is a single hunter left, the one who was hanging by the hut while the other one threatened you. The cocksure swagger tells that this is the one in charge, the one who gave the command to keep you alive. And yet, the favor doesn’t hold any value to you as the helmet tilts up at Boba, “Boba Fett. You’re a hard man to find.” Boba doesn’t answer, instead jerking his head and you move towards him, “Bib Fortuna wants to talk.”

Now Boba responds, “I don’t.”

“150,000 credits to me says that you will.” Another blaster(fucking blasters) points at you, and you stop in your tracks, fighting to keep your breathing steady. He’s only a few meters away, a dead shot if he decides to let his finger slip.“Because he may want you alive, but not her. And she lied to me. Drop the blasters, or I shoot her now.”

You slowly lay the weapon down, eyes fixed on the barrel. Boba does the same, his hands raising placatingly as the shiny metal plops into the sand, “She’s nothing to me.” 

“You can try to tell Bib Fortuna that, but he’ll believe it even less than I do. I’ll cut you a deal. You come with me, I get my credits, she gets to live.” You focus on Boba’s face, trying to steal some of his stony calm. 

Boba smirks, “You’re even stupider than you look.” Then he’s moving, eating up the meters between them faster than you can blink. The staff arcs up, the wicked point glinting in the sun before smashing into the hunter’s helmet, crushing the metal with stunning ease. Your mouth is still hanging open when white-hot pain flares through your shoulder. Fucking blasters. You drop to the sand, curling in on yourself as your entire body seems to throb in agony. There’s no blood on your hand when you pull it away, but the smell of burnt flesh almost makes you vomit. The suns are too bright and you blink rapidly, trying to get rid of the spots dancing in your vision.

A form crouches over you, blocking out the light. Someone is saying your name repeatedly, slapping your face gently as they support your head and neck, “Wake up, stay with me. Gotta get bacta on that shoulder.”

You blink blearily. The world is swimming before your eyes and nothing is focusing correctly. It’s a struggle to stay awake, never mind focusing on what Boba is saying to you. The sand is so warm. Sleep would be nice. You wouldn’t have to stay awake and focus on the implications of what just went down. You wouldn’t need to feel the hole burned in your shoulder. Fuck, Boba had been shot before? How did he bear it?

He turns away, but he’s instantly back, gloved hands ripping apart your shirt at the shoulder. You mutter, “Leave it. Self cauterizes. Best way to get hurt.” The suns blend into twin slurs of light across the sky. ‘Meteors,’ you think, ‘They look like meteors. Or shooting stars.’ People make wishes on those, right?

Boba snorts, “Bantha shit.” He smears the bacta on the wound, and you shudder as the pain lessens marginally. He starts talking as he works, though it’s a struggle to understand anything when you’re so distracted by the world spinning beneath you. “Angel, I have to leave. They’ll be coming for me. I can’t stay here with you. Do you understand? Tell me you understand.” 

Okay. Okay, you tell yourself it’s okay. You’ve been expecting this day for some time. He’s a dangerous man, it was right to assume that he’s wanted by someone, you just didn’t expect the someone to be the resident crime lord of the planet he is kriffing living on. It’s hard to stay in one place for some time, but he did. For you. And now it’s your turn to let him go, to sacrifice for him because he sacrificed for you. But you can’t seem to bring yourself to say it. You have to settle for a shaky breath and a tiny nod. 

He lifts you and carries you inside, arranging you on the bed. He brushes a strand of hair out of your face, a second of tranquility before he turns and begins gathering supplies. You fight against the encroaching sleep, resolving yourself to watch and savor these last moments. He won’t be coming back, not while Bib Fortuna holds the bounty on him, and Bib has a long memory. 

So you commit every detail of him to memory. His grim and stoic face and the deadpan sarcastic humor that you’ve grown to love. His broad shoulders remind you of the first time you met him. It was absolute hell fitting his massive frame through the small doorway of your home, only for him to flatten you to the ground when you moved wrong. His careful and smooth gait that you observed every time he walked out into the dunes and away from you. His lips, which sometimes wear that devastatingly attractive sideways smirk that promises trouble, but more rarely wear a genuine smile that you’ve only seen once or twice. His powerful legs that pinned you to the mattress more than a few times. And you wish on the twin meteors outside that this wouldn’t be your last memory of him.

You try to summon words to your dry throat, but they come out as a raspy cough on your first attempt. “Boba.” 

He’s by your side instantly, so quickly that you would do a double take if you had any strength to do so. “Here.” He offers the water jug to you and you sip, remembering the first day that you met him.

But there’s no time to reminisce, “I know that you have to go. I know that I probably won’t se--” Your voice breaks, but there’s no need to finish the sentence. “But I’ll be here. If you ever come back.”

---

“You broke your promise that last day.” 

“It was self-defense.” A huff of air echoes through the modulator, and he sits back on the throne, “Angel, everytime I kill, I kill for a reason. It’s not senseless.” No, that’s not what you’re talking about.

“You broke your promise when you left Tatooine without me.” You took a chance on him. You trusted him to hold to his word. And he’d betrayed that trust.

“I was trying to protect you. You couldn’t come with me, it would have been too dangerous. You have an entire life ahead of you. Coming with me off-world would have thrown it all away.”

You laugh scornfully, “So what, you just made that promise without ever intending to keep it? Is that all your word as a man is worth?”

“I made the promise intending to keep it.” His voice is stiff, mirroring his posture as he regards you with all of the bearing of a king lording over his subject. You hate it. “But my loyalties changed, angel.” You open your mouth to continue, but he cuts you off, “I couldn’t bring you into my life within good conscience. I promised to save you in any opportunity promised. My way of saving you was leaving you here.”

“You don’t get to decide that for me.”

“Angel, if you had come with me, I would have been violating both aspects of the promise. You would have seen killing, pointless and meaningless death. And it would have destroyed you, whatever good hope for the universe you had left.”

You scoff, “I am not a good person. I have flaws, Boba, you just refuse to see them.” You tear your collar open, revealing the tattoo inked into your skin. You’d told him that it was artistic, and it was the most beautiful reminder of your old life that you had. It’s the mark of a thief on your home planet, curling into your skin and reminding you everyday of what you had run from. “I lied and cheated and stole my way through life. I am not too naive to hear the real reasons for you coming back.” Because that’s why he didn’t tell you. He thought you were too pure to know about his job. He thinks you’re too innocent to know why he’s back. Well, you're done with him handling you with kid gloves.

“If you ever cared about me, you’ll explain why you’re here now. Because I won’t stay.” You stare down the emotionless visor, knowing that you can’t hold your ground. Your anger is still burning white hot, but it’s beginning to subside for lack of fuel. You’re exhausted, and you have no power here. You inhale, ready to continue to ream him out except the breath catches in the back of your throat and comes out a strangled half-sob. You continue to stare at him, but all you can manage is a little, “You promised.”

The suit of armor staring back at you holds the power, and he could kick you out in an instant without a backwards look. What’s a few solar cycles compared to a lifetime of independence? But someone is going to have to give ground here, and you’re almost convinced that it’s going to be you when he speaks. 

“Fennec.” Without a single word, she turns and leaves. You watch her retreating back, not knowing if you should feel relieved or trapped. “Do you want to know why I came back today? Or that day?”

A rebellious tear slips down your cheek, and you scrub it away angrily. “Pick one first.”

He’s silent again for several heart breaking moments, and you’re terrified that you’re going to have to leave, “I didn’t break my promise at first. I didn’t leave Tatooine that day.”

“What?” The tears have stopped, and that’s one little victory you won’t have to fight for here.

“The day that I left.” His hand rubs against the visor of his helmet, and you can almost imagine that he’s rubbing the visor of his helmet, right over the bridge of his nose the same way he always used to when he was stressed. “I went to Bib and bargained. A year of my service to leave you alone. I had no choice, it was the only way I could try to protect you after they came after me.”

Your heart drops and rises in your chest simultaneously, making you feel both like you’re plummeting off of a cliff while bound to a torn parachute. Puzzle pieces click into place too quickly, laying out a picture that’s still unfinished, but one that you understand primitively. The next command from Boba is unexpected, slicing through your problem solving.

“Up.” 

You blink, “Excuse me?”

“Come here.” You stand and walk to him. “Give me your hands.” His grip is gentle, guiding your fingertips under the lip of the green painted beskar. His hands stay on your wrists as you carefully lift the helmet, inch by inch, and it’s a good thing that they did because without his support your hands might have been shaking too hard to get the damn thing off. 

He looks the same as when he left all that time ago. Same strong chin, stern mouth, and scarred skin. But you look at his eyes, and you know that he did change in the time away. There’s a soft look in his eye that you had never seen before. 

“What happened to you?” Your hand grazes over his skin, and he leans into your touch.

“I fell into a Sarlaac pit.” The familiar sardonic smirk appears, but you don’t smile along with him. It vanishes, “I--” He breaks eye contact with you, looking down and licking his lips as if he’s trying to gather the words to explain, “I met a man. And a child.” He looks back up, and you almost melt at the muted shine in his eyes, “They reminded me of what is important. I came back.”

You gently set the helmet on the ground and raise your hands to cup his face. “Boba--”

“I came back that last day because I realized that I loved you. I turned around and came back to tell you, and it’s a good thing I did.” His hands come up to cover yours, and there’s the wicked spark of humor in his eye. “I wanted to stay, angel. I wanted to stay so bad, but you were safer if I didn’t.” Your eyes slip closed as you lean down and graze your forehead against his, the way that he taught you. His hand leaves yours to plant on the back of your neck and holds you there. “We couldn't be together until Bib was dead. I was wrong, to come here first and to send Fennec for you. But I needed time to… prepare.”

He had to prepare for the possibility that the bargain didn’t work, or that you had moved on. He hadn’t needed to worry, because you promised that you’d be here. You slip onto his lap, straddling his thigh without moving your head away from his. “I’m here.” 

“Are you still upset?” A hand comes up and ghosts over your hair. You lean into the touch almost subconsciously. 

“I’m working through it.” You pull back and fix him with a stern gaze. “This isn’t resolved.”

“But?”

“We’ll work through it.” He nods, his mouth hanging slightly open in a look of contemplation.

“I won’t stay.” What? You freeze, dread spiking through your chest. He must feel the tension in your body because he rushes to clarify, “I-- uh I, ah shit that was a bad way to put it.” He pulls away and meets your eyes, “I will leave this. I’ll be Boba. Not Boba Fett. Not king of the crime underworld. I’ll be anything for you. We’ll escape off-world together or some shit. We can go find Hondo, if he’s still alive.”

You snort, “That old man is too tough to die.” You tap his nose with your fingertip, “Like one other that I know.”

He snaps his teeth playfully at your finger, and you squeal happily. “My point is--” He looks up at you with such peace in his eyes that you want to curl up against his chest and never leave, “We can do whatever you want. Just the two of us. But I want to stay with you, this time around. That past life is all done. We’ll find something else to do, besides hunting bounties.”

Your eyes track towards the doorway that Fennec disappeared through, and his gaze follows. “Fennec will be fine. I’ll release her from my service. Hell--” He chuckles dryly, “Maybe I’ll leave the throne to her.”

That’s a terrifying thought that you’re not quite ready to consider just yet. “You’d give this all up for me?”

“Angel, that’s what love is. Sacrifice. I just didn’t learn it soon enough.”

You kiss him, a real one this time, melting into his lips, “Love can be compromise. And this is a point I’m willing to give on.” 

“What?”

“I’ll admit,” You tilt your head, a mischievous grin sliding across your face, “Queen of the crime underworld has a nice ring to it after being a moisture farmer for several years.”

He smiles, the real one this time, “I like the title on you.” His hands attach to your hips, holding you down on the hard ridge of his thigh as he grinds the leg up into your cunt. “Makes me wanna act out, Your Majesty.”

You gasp at the surge of wetness between your legs. Stars, it’s been so long that you almost forgot how much you loved the feeling of his body beneath you. “Boba--”

“Ah ah, is that any way to address your king?” So this is how he wants to play? Fine.

“No, Your Royalness.” Wrong answer. One hand comes down hard on your ass, and there’s going to be a mark for sure. “Your Excellency?” Nope, and another spank burns on your butt. “My king?” You brace yourself for another, but the hand stays. 

“Hmmm, I like that one.” His grip tightens, and you know that you’re going to have finger shaped bruises on the pillowy flesh. He captures your lips against his, and you roll your hips downwards onto his thigh. His erection rests heavy against the inside of your thigh, and you purposefully angle your hips to create more friction against it. “Angel, I want nothing more than to take you now, but--” He stands with a grunt, easily hoisting you into the air with his hands supporting your butt. 

“--I’d rather taste you first.”

A/N: Okay wow this took me so long. This project has literally been in the works for months, and I found a way to finish it finally! I’m not sure if the Boba Fett craze has passed yet, but either way here we have Boba. Some throne-fucking for those of you who would care for it. 

Taglist: @alliterative-albatross​

#boba fett #boba fett x reader #smut #fluff #violence #daddy boba #could rail me anyday and I would THANK him #sir #just a crumb of cock please

[mandoalorian]

Borrowed Time [Din Djarin x F!Reader]

ੈ♡˳‧₊*: • Chapter 5: The Covert ✩࿐ ˚.✧

Summary: You are the princess of Mandalore, held hostage on your own planet by Moff Gideon and his army of Imperial troopers. Left with no choice, you send out a distress signal; a plea for protection— and who comes? None other than Din Djarin, a foundling of The Death Watch. He, by creed, is your sworn enemy. And where you have asked for his protection, he has been told by his mentor that he must marry you and gain the ability to restore Mandalore to its former glory.

Word Count: 2300>

Warnings: possessive!Din, manhandling, discussions of an arranged marriage, food mention

Series Masterlist

You’d made yourself feel welcome on Nevarro. It was a beautiful day and you made the effort to speak to some of the locals. You even spotted a vendor selling sourberries, so it was a shame that you had no credits on you to make a purchase of the craved food. Grogu was having the time of his life too. He stayed close to you for the most part, but he did take you to a small green water pond so he could eat the frogs when you weren’t looking.

As you adjusted your cloak, you noticed, on the other side of the pond, a group of stormtroopers. There were about five or six of them, standing in a circle and making brief glances back to you and the child. It was enough to make you uncomfortable, that’s for sure. Din wouldn’t have taken you to another Imperial ruled planet. That would have been ridiculously unsafe -- so, why were they there? Maybe you were wrong to leave the ship. Maybe you should head back now.

“Hey kid,” you cooed quietly, reaching out to grab Grogu and hold him in your arms. “We better head back now.”

“Leaving so soon?” A stormtrooper asked, the second you swivelled around on your heel. He was just inches away from your face, so much so, you thought you could see his eyes through the visor of his white Imperial helmet. “We have eyes on the princess.” he announced through a comlink, and your eyes went comically wide upon realising the trouble you had got yourself in.

“Oh no,” you mumbled, your gaze snapping towards the stormtroopers on the other side of the pond, who were now making their way across the shallow waters.If you didn’t make your move now, you’d be surrounded in a matter of seconds. You slowly began to back away, clutching Grogu to your chest for dear life. “Uhm…” you could always negotiate. That was a skill of yours. You just didn’t know how well it would be utilizing in front of half a dozen stormtroopers. “Boys…”

And within a blink, each stormtrooper fell to the floor, one by one, their bodies crashing down with a thud. One even fell into the pond. You felt your entire body stiffen up, your heart rate picking up speed. You spun around again, ready to bolt back into the village and towards the ship, when you went crashing into a beskar chest plate. “Ow!” you cried, rubbing your nose as you pulled away from… Din. Kriff.

You looked up at him, feeling completely and utterly exasperated, and you offered the Mandalorian a weak smile. “I can explain…” you wheezed. “But how did you-- how did you--”

“Whistling birds.” Din replied, his voice having dropped an octave. Even through the modulator he sounded terrifying. You knew what whistling birds were, remembering that your aunt Bo-Katan trusted them deeply. He tapped a few buttons on his wrist gauntlet before grabbing your arm and tugging you away from the backwater pond. His grip on you was tight, and firm, and you swore that he had more strength in his hand than you did your entire body. And you weren’t necessarily weak, you didn’t necessarily have a low muscle mass, it was just the Mandalorian was so hench. That much was clear when you noticed how thick his biceps were or how broad his shoulders were, or the way his muscles flexed in his calves with every step he took. You shouldn’t have noticed these things about him, but the fact is, you had, and it sent you into a frenzy.

Maker, he wasn’t hurting you, but he was absolutely manhandling you, dragging you across the grassy sludge as if you were incapable of walking yourself. “Din-- get off!” You growled, trying to tug your arm out of his grip.

Without hesitation he paused in his footsteps and pulled out a small counter device before flicking the switch and turning it on. Low and behold, a hologram image appeared of you. “What is-- what is that?” you questioned, not liking the look of it at all.

“Bounty puck.” he answered matter-of-factly, before turning it back off and sliding it into his pocket. 

“I have a bounty on me?” You asked, your voice going a little too high pitched for comfort. Was that a dumb question?

“Yeah.” Din replied back, in a familiar low modulated grumble, his gloved fingers digging into your skin. “Not just any bounty, an Imperial bounty. You’re lucky I found you before some other hunter got their hands on you.”

“Yeah, I feel very lucky.” you rolled your eyes, your tone of voice dripping with sarcasm. And oh Maker-- Din didn’t like that. He stopped in his footsteps again and this time he grabbed both of your arms, holding you firm and steady. You were scared to breathe the wrong way under his grip.

“You should feel lucky, princess, you know what those kinds of people do to pretty things like you?” he hissed, and you felt a wildness of butterflies erupt in your stomach. Pretty. It was one word and he probably didn’t even mean it. Of course he didn’t mean it, because Din was pissed with you. He wouldn’t be paying you compliments, or at least, not right now. He was trying to intimidate you, and honestly, it was working, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on just a little bit.

And as it turned out, maybe Din liked the idea of being your rescuer a little too much. 

“What do they do?” you whispered, and Din trailed a gloved hand to your neck and let his fingers glide across your jaw before grabbing your neck and giving it an experimental squeeze. Again, it didn’t hurt, but it was enough for you to be put in your place. You had been so used to ruling Mandalore and taking charge, but now you were the one who submitted to Din. He was the one who enforced the rules, that much was clear.

Din didn’t reply to your question, just as much meekly chuckled and shook his head. “You’re lucky,” he repeated, reinforcing his previous statement. “But if you want to misbehave, I can just as easily hand you in.”

He wouldn’t, would he? No. He wouldn’t.

He was just very, very mad.

He was trying to scare you, but you wouldn’t cave. You were better than that.

But still, you wanted to know what exactly would happen if you misbehaved. Your curiosity had piqued significantly.

“You left me and Grogu on the ship, alone,” you muttered by the time you had reached the outskirts of the village. “I thought Nevarro was safe.”

“It was,” Din retorted bitterly. “Keep your head down and take my hand. Imps are swarming the town, we need to hide you before they notice anything suspicious.”

You weren’t going to argue with him because in that moment you knew for sure he was still desperately trying to protect you. He could stay angry with you all he liked, but he was bound by the code of Mandalore to make sure nothing happened to you, and that was good enough.

Din pulled up your hood and tied the little ribbon that bound together your cloak. “I can dress myself.” you mumbled.

“Keep your head down.” he grunted in response.

So, as Din dragged you through the cobbled paths, you didn’t look up once. He was taking you along back alleys and different routes to try and avoid any unwelcome contact, but you did realise that he had parked the ship in the north and you were currently advancing east. Grogu made a confused noise as if he was reading your mind.

“Where are we going?” you quizzed Din.

“Safe spot.” 

If there was one thing that irked you about the Mandalorian, it was his lack of words, or the way when he did speak, he said things as if they couldn’t be questioned. Like they were set in stone.

“Safe spot?” you quirked an eyebrow, wanting a little more information out of him.

But of course, he didn’t provide. “Safe spot.” he reiterated, before dialling in a code on a security panel that was nailed to a wall. 

The door slid open and Din pulled you in, before the door quickly snapped shut behind you both. It was a long dark corridor down that was illuminated with burning candlelight. 

And for the very first time since your childhood, you were greeted with the presence of other Mandalorians, each decked out in full body armour. You felt like an intruder who couldn’t help but stare and take in the fascinating sight before you.

“What is this place?” you asked, your jaw agape.

Whatever annoyance Din had been feeling before was instantly eradicated when he took just one look at you. He felt his heart swell in his chest as he noticed the glimmer in your eyes. It was curious and child-like. It gave you this beautiful radiance.

“Covert.” Din replied, the simple one word response offering more information than he’d previously given you. “You’ll be safe here.” he promised.

Din took your hand this time, interlocking his gloved fingers in yours. The touch took you by surprise as it differed from his rough manhandling that you had gotten accustomed too. You followed Din down the never ending corridor until eventually, you both passed through an alcove and were introduced to a golden Mandalorian. 

“This is the Armorer,” Din said. “She’s my mentor.”

The golden Mandalorian curtseyed before you before rising back to her feet. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, your highness.”

“The pleasure is mine.” you hummed, still slightly distracted by your whereabouts.

“This specific covert is over two hundred years old,” The Armorer explained to you. “It was the only covert that wasn’t raided during the Great Purge,” You winced at the way she had brought up the memory. “The walls are thick and we have a squad on defence. I trust that Din Djarin has been treating you well?”

You tried to hold back a smirk as you wondered what would happen if you told his mentor of how he’d gotten angry with you. But the truth was, Din had been good to you. Maybe more so than you probably deserved. He never chose to take on this mission, but done so because it was his duty. He was helping you because it was the right thing to do, and that was enough. Morally, Din might have considered himself grey, but you believed that he was in fact a good person.

“He’s been great.” you said softly, and Din felt his cheeks heat up under the beskar.

“Hmph,” the Armorer replied before turning to the Mandalorian. “Can I have a word with you in private, please?”

You furrowed your eyebrows in bewilderment as you watched Din and his mentor walk away, leaving you with Grogu. 

“She’s not wearing the ring,” The Armorer said, and despite the golden plated mask that covered her face, Din just knew she was frowning. “You haven’t asked her yet, have you?”

“I haven’t exactly gotten the chance,” Din huffed. “We’ve just met. If I asked her now she’d never say yes. We barely even know each other.”

“But you are getting along fine?” The Armorer asked, and Din didn’t reply. He just breathed an exasperated huff of air which wasn’t even picked up by his modulator. “We can’t give her the protection she desires if she doesn’t marry into the Watch. This is the way.” The Armorer explained matter-of-factly.

This is the way. Din often wondered if the Armorer just made up ‘the way’ as she went along, using it as a way to justify all her decisions. Although, it did make sense, to a degree. Din’s creed were very proud. They were strong, and there were at least thirty other children of the Watch roaming the halls of the covert. If you married into Din’s creed, you would technically become a child of the Watch yourself. You’d be safe.

Would it be wise to bring up the things you had told Din about the Watch, and how they had treated your people? Din had been questioning it, but there was no way of telling how the Armorer would react to such gossip. The last thing Din needed right now was for his mentor to think he was betraying his creed in favour of the princess.

The prolonged silence between both Mandalorians prompted the Armorer to speak up again. “You have until nightfall to propose. Otherwise she must leave, and you will seek new protection.”

And that was when the first penny dropped. This was essentially blackmail, and it left Din with no choice. Sure, you were great. You were strong and beautiful and you had this undeniable fiest about you. And Din saw the way you were with Grogu. It was enough to soften him more than he’d ever been softened before. You brought out a completely new side to the Mandalorian. Maybe one day, Din could marry you - out of want, not need. Maybe settling down with you and the kid would be… nice.

He’d thought about the prospect of leaving everything behind when he last ventured to Sorgan and befriended the gentle widow Omera. But in that moment, he had other priorities to focus on. But what were his priorities now? Before you came into his life, he was simply floating between bounties and residing on Nevarro with Grogu. Grogu. That was Din’s priority. And now… you were too. So no, proposing wouldn’t be ideal. But if it meant guaranteeing your safety, Din knew what he had to do.

And he had until nightfall.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

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#din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #grogu #baby yoda #din djarin smut #pedro pascal smut

[mercurial-madhouse]

Anonymous asked: I wish you would write... A Disney princess!AU (like cinderella or sleeping beauty or snow white) where both of them are princes just that they follow the same general plotline (for example H could be prince charming and L could be the one that got put to sleep or hidden somehow/some reason).

>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*< 

You don’t have to say you love me (Just let me adore you)

Fiery sunlight flashes through the pendant soaring through the air, its broken chain trailing behind like snapped heartstrings.

Wrenched out of a waking dream, confusion and shock overwhelm Harry as he lurches on the shifting deck. Reeling yet frozen, he scans the insanity before him.

In his enchanted absence, chaos has usurped his throne. Niall, Liam, and Zayn are all racing about, attempting to contain the mayhem. And he’s… Why is he in his purple ceremonial robes? Why is he at sea? And the strange man a few metres away, who has just lost the pendant—what’s his name?—Ben. Why the bloody hell is Ben covered in sea creatures? Only his outstretched hand is visible, clawing for one end of the broken chain that’s sailing just out of reach.

The horrifying truth catapults into Harry’s chest. Caught within the magic bound into that necklace, he’d almost married this stranger. But this isn’t the man he loves.

Fear drives like a weighted anchor into his chest. Someone or something slams into him from behind.

Stumbling forward, Harry searches the quarterdeck desperately for the one person missing, the last person he remembers. Relief battles surprise and both cascade over Harry, unlocking his lungs beneath the flood-tide of emotion when Harry finds him.

Louis’s bracing barefoot against the opposite rail near Harry’s quarters, the captain’s cabin. The loose white shirt Harry first gave him, the one he’d flung off his own back when he’d found Louis stranded naked on the rocky shore three days ago, hangs haphazardly from one pale shoulder. The silent, shipwrecked sailor had struggled with the buttons then as though he’d never seen them before. Even now the shirt is unbuttoned halfway down his chest, one side tucked into his trousers as though Louis had thrown it on in a frantic rush to get here.

Ocean blues, wide like the ebbing tide, lock onto Harry’s. Harry launches through the melee of people and ocean life to reach Louis. Harry’s always hated low tide. Always felt like he was helplessly watching the shoreline as the ocean receded ever further away from him.

The circular pendant hits the deck and cracks. A golden flash bursts from the object, halting the tumult as it blinds everyone.

Harry’s heart surges into his windpipe as the beam zings across the deck, slams into Louis’s throat, and disappears.

Shock etches over Louis’s face. He pushes three fingers against his neck then swallows.

He opens his mouth… and speaks.

Harry’s world upends, throwing him back beneath the swirling waters of his own shipwreck eight days earlier. Up and down collide with past and present as the voice he’s dreamed of since that day comes to life and enchants him all over again with a single word.

“Hazza.”

**

Harry grins at the obvious curiousity scrunching Louis’s features. Whether he never could talk or the shipwreck that brought him to Harry’s shores left him too afraid to speak, Harry doesn’t know. But his beautiful features are so wonderfully expressive it’s as though Harry’s fluent in a language he didn’t realize he knew.

“What. Haz?”

Louis nods, glancing at the closed door they’d just come through after Harry’s mum, the queen, had shooed them out of her private chambers with a wave and that childhood name for Harry on her lips.

“It’s short for Hazza.” Why is he telling Louis? His mum never calls him Haz unless they’re alone, and now he’s adding to the slip-up?

Louis’s eyes light up with such pure delight that Harry’s heart skips a beat and promptly rolls over in his chest like it’s prepared to give up the ghost to the ocean depths. He tucks a wayward strand of hair out of Louis’s eyes. Countless brushings and his hair is as wild as it’d been when Harry found him yesterday. Untameable as the ocean that’d brought him here.

Mouth suddenly dry despite emotionally drowning, Harry’s tongue flicks out to wet his lip. He follows his heart over the ocean horizon that’s reflecting in those blue eyes. “You can call me that, if you want. Hazza.”

He’s officially lost his mind. Only his mum has the right to either name. But the soft, private smile Louis bestows upon him is so warm that Harry feels like he’s been crowned the prince all over again. All the adoration of the entire kingdom pales compared to the affection emanating from Louis now.

Louis’s mouth forms silently over the word, like he’s testing the feel of the name on his lips the same way he’s once again rubbing the ruffled silk cuff of the pale blue shirt he’s wearing between his fingertips. A flash of sadness momentarily dims Louis’ smile, but then it returns larger than before, crinkling the corners of his eyes, as though Louis still loves what neither of them can hear.

Harry would give up his claim to the throne for that smile.

**

“It’s you.”

The choked words burble up from his throat like bubbles through swirling seas. Two more steps and Louis’s in his arms. Holding Louis feels like the wild exhilaration of setting sail. Louis smells like saltwater air, a zesty ocean zephyr billowing the sails and guiding Harry ever onwards.

Unable to process, Harry tries to clutch Louis close and look into his face at the same time. His forehead bumps into Louis’s temple; his palm curves over Louis’s jaw.

“How is this-... I don’t-...”

Louis’s fingers fist in the purple velvet of Harry’s coat. “I’ll explain everything, Hazza, I s-”

Even though ragged with desperation, the vibrant sound of his voice shocks through Harry. Fantasy and reality collide and fragment into crystal clarity.

The man of his dreams is standing before him. Wide awake this time with no water filling his lungs, Harry refuses to lose Louis again.

He’d almost kissed Louis in the grotto before their boat upended. Now he ducks in to smash his lips into Louis’s before anything else can break them apart.

The port side of the ship runs aground over a submerged sandbar.  A barrel careening across the deck slams into Harry in the massive shockwave surging over L'Esprit as she keels to starboard, wrenching Louis from his grasp.

“Sire!” His first mate Liam catches Harry around the waist, hauling him against the mainmast he’s got hold of. But Louis stumbles, unable to find his balance.

“No!” Harry’s hand catches empty air as Louis hits the deck, sliding with everything not held down until he slams into the starboard rail.

The ship shudders and stills, canted slightly.

Gripping the rail, Louis pushes back to his feet. Harry pushes away from Liam. The sun sinks over the horizon. A blinding green flash shoots up from the spot where she fell into the sea.

“Mary mother,” Niall, Harry’s helmsman, breathes nearby, quickly crossing himself.

Every sailor knows the superstition. The green flash. The impossible will be made possible.

Harry staggers, halting halfway to him when Louis freezes. The blood drains from Louis’s face right before he disappears from view, engulfed in the same golden magic that’d left the necklace and returned his voice.

The golden hurricane vanishes.

Pure disbelief consumes Harry.

Louis’ shirt and tattoos are gone, replaced with pale skin broken only with tiny translucent scales where his tattoos used to be. They flash golden in the last rays of light, trailing down to a magnificent fishtail. Iridescent blue, with each tiny movement the colour shifts, as though the ocean and all her colours are captured within. Speckled throughout are scales of coral red, deep and luscious.

Harry blinks. The illusion remains. Fin smacking against the wood, Louis struggles upright, bracing on his palms.

Harry’s dimly aware of those eyes locking back onto him.

Louis slowly shakes his head, the plea so obvious on his face. “Hazza, I can expl-”

A slow chuckle from the forecastle breaks through the haze of disbelief clouding Harry’s senses.

Ben rises to his feet, casually brushing off guppies and starfish. The smirk on his face transforms his features and a wave of disgust rolls over Harry.

“Even the ocean knows you don’t belong together.”

He’s speaking to Louis.

Louis shakes his head again, tail flopping once more as he tries to straighten his torso best he can. His scales are already wrinkling, drying out in the warm evening air. “You enchanted him with me voice! How was I-”

Ben cuts Louis off by holding up a hand, three fingers raised. “Three days. That was the contract. You had three days to find your true love’s kiss, no matter what.”

Harry can’t keep up. That word, love, shocks him into speaking, but only a noise comes out before Louis’s growling at Ben in an echo of that burst of impetuous fire Harry’s seen glimpses of these past few days.

“I love him.” The melody of Louis’s voice changes. “Please, Simon, just give me one more minute.”

But Ben only laughs again, that same light chuckle. It grows, steadily deepening into a throaty cackle. A cloud of black envelops him until that laughter emanates from the void, punching through Harry and the hearts of every sailor aboard.

The monstrosity left in the wake of that cloud and laughter has several sailors crying out in fear, backing away. The human half is older, greying hair and cutting eyes. Instead of a tail, the creature ends in thick tentacles.

Simon leers at Louis. “Your voice belongs to me now.”

He lunges. Louis throws himself back against the rail. His eyes find Harry. Time frees Harry’s legs. He dives forward.

Simon’s arm catches Louis around the chest. His tentacles lock around that beautiful tail. Louis’s fingers claw into the wood, but the suckers latching into his scales immobilize him.

They vanish overboard.

“No!” Harry slams against the railing in time to catch a final glimpse of iridescent scales choked by black tentacles disappearing beneath the white-capped waves. He tears the buttons of his waistcoat ripping the ornate fabric off. He grabs the railing to dive overboard.

A hand grabs his arm, wrenching him back.

“Majesty, are you mad?!” Niall stares at him in horror. “You’re human, Sire!”

A burst of agony-fueled anger surges through Harry. “I don’t care,” he roars, wrenching his arm free. “I love him.”

It doesn’t matter that he’s in love with a fish.

Niall grabs him again. “I know.” Voice softer, but no less intense, he shakes his head. “But the ocean floor is only a grave for the likes of us. You’ll be dead before you can get close.”

The pity in Niall’s eyes hurts Harry more than his next words.

“He’s lost, Harry.”

Refusing to believe that, Harry shakes his head, jerking away from the words. Something flashes on the deck.

The compass that’d been around Ben’s, no, that monster’s neck. Harry’s heart lurches into his throat when he recognizes it.

It’s his compass. Understanding that his first love would always be the sea, his mother had gifted it to him when he’d turned sixteen two years ago, so he’d always find his way home no matter how far over the horizon he sailed. He’d been clutching it when he’d gone overboard in the storm, and was so certain he’d lost it in the shipwreck.

Harry snatches it from the deck. The broken chain falls away but Harry can only stare as the familiar weight in his palm settles in a pained squeeze around his heart with a single flash of a memory.

**

Floating. Numb. Idle waves weaving over his legs. A comforting pressure over his torso.

Gentle fingers brush a wet lock of hair from his face. The stranded curl slides over his cheek. His fingers curl around his compass.

Distant voices. “Majesty! Prince Harry!”

The weight shifts, startled. Lips brush a soft kiss over his brow.

“Live,” that bright voice that’d just been singing, beckoning Harry towards the surface of his consciousness, whispers, quiet yet commanding.

“Your Majesty! Prince Harry!”

A hand smooths down his arm and slides over his palm. The weight of his compass vanishes with the fingers. Someone splashes away through the shallows.

Blinding sunlight pierces his eyes as he pushes them open. He’s alone on the shore. Niall and Liam are racing across the surf towards him.

**

“Your majesty!” Liam’s shout jars Harry from the memory. The ocean had claimed him, and the ocean had saved him. It’s not Louis’s eyes that were familiar. After all these years, Harry’s now certain the ocean has been familiar because it swirls in captured sunswirls in those eyes he’d finally found three days ago.

And like the ebbing tide slipping through his fingers, that freedom has once again sunk beyond his reach.

“Majesty?” Liam’s fingertips brush his elbow to get his attention. Sorrow washes his voice soft. “Your orders?”

Harry can’t look away from his compass.

The glass is cracked, as broken as the mechanism within. The arrow no longer points north, but west, towards the horizon. Angry tears blur his vision as frustration wells in the pit of his stomach. He’s spent years seeking the heart of the ocean, only to find it, only to lose him. Louis saved him twice and now Harry can’t help him.

Harry can’t follow.

Harry clutches the compass until his knuckles are white, riding the roiling wave of frustration desperately. A warmth bursts from the compass and flushes his palm. Startled, Harry jumps. Like sunlight shifting over the surface, the compass flashes with a remnant of that golden magic of Louis’s voice that’d burst from it earlier.

Hope flutters like twin swallows taking flight in his chest. Harry turns back towards the rail where the arrow is pointing.

The broken arrow moves with him, aiming ever onward in the direction Simon and Louis had vanished. Harry’s facing due west but the arrow now points north before him.

“Sire?” Niall’s eyes are wide. He crosses himself again, staring at the compass in Harry’s hand.

A grim determination sweeps over Harry. “Get us afloat, Liam.”

His first mate nods. As Liam turns, barking out orders to the rest of the crew, Harry pockets his compass and throws off the lavender waistcoat that matches the coat he’d already discarded.

Unbuttoning the top three buttons of his white shirt, he rolls his sleeves up and turns to Niall.

“To the helm, Niall. I’ve got a prince to find.”

>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*< 

(Of the three Disney-inspired ideas that came to me, I attempted with this one to stick as close to a direct retelling with Louis as the princess as the prompt requested. I’d also always wondered how Prince Eric knew where to find Ariel so he could help her defeat Ursula in the Disney version of Little Mermaid. I tried to answer that here. Hope you enjoy, Anony! I know it took a while. Moving homes can make writing time hard to find! And a huge thank you to you, Lily, for all your help, love!)

Have something else you’d like to see me write? Send me an ask (anon or no) completing the sentence ‘I wish you’d write a fic where…’

OT5 Superpowers 

Invisible Louis

Only one bed (H-POV)

Only one bed (L-POV)

ABO new-omega!Louis drabble that became a fic on AO3.

OT4 Spy AU

Disney-Inspired 1: Liam/Harry/Louis as Niall’s three fairy godmother roommates.

#trackinghome #hlcreators #hljournal #1dsource #yourlarrysource #tracksintheam #larry fanfiction #1d fanfiction #drabble

[lifblogs]

Whumptober 2021

No. 1 ALL TRUSSED UP AND STILL NOWHERE TO GO

"You have to let go" | barbed wire | bound

Title: A New Weapon Fandom: Star Wars Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Word Count: 2173 Summary: Anakin is lured aboard a Separatist ship from rumors of a new weapon. WARNINGS: Graphic Depictions of Violence READ ON AO3

Anakin collapsed to the reinforced durasteel deck aboard the Separatist ship he’d chosen to board. Someone was screaming; maybe it was him. His body writhed and tensed even as some part of him was telling it to stay still, that if he relaxed and just breathed it would hurt less. Was he hurting? All he unequivocally knew was that his body was in overdrive. What had happened to him? Shouldn’t he be dead?

Panels had slid back from the deck, strange-looking guns rising up, aimed directly at him. He’d been surrounded, and before he could do anything there had been a clack from all of them and then they’d fired. He should be dead, right? Or… Perhaps not. He had expected the whine of a laser, a blaster, but there had just been a scratching and screeching that hurt his ears.

Then… pain. Yes, that’s what he was feeling.

There was a dark tremor in the Force, the very feeling that he’d followed to this particular ship, and he struggled. The pain dug deeper, his arms trapped at his sides, his legs together. There was no mistaking the blood coming out of him, darkening his robes.

Through vision beginning to darken, and ears preoccupied with the sound of his dry sobs, he just managed to hear even steps and see an older man in dark clothes and a refined cloak walk in.

Dooku, he wanted to hiss out, but all he could do was try to quiet himself with a loud gulp that he nearly choked on.

“Young Anakin Skywalker,” he said, “I thought I might find you here. Or perhaps you were meant to be here. I hope you don’t mind that I took the liberty of testing my new weapon on you.”

Eyes swimming with tears, Anakin finally managed to appraise himself as he choked out, “Not… at all.” Metallic wire was haphazardly wrapped and tangled around him, trailing off and away across the deck. Part of the metal itself was adorned with sharp barbs, and what could’ve been tens of them were embedded deep, his blood turning the metal’s shine dull.

Sickened, struggling to breathe, he rested his head back down.

Think, Anakin. Think!

The pain was immeasurable. Sore and sharp at once, and seemingly all-encompassing. The very act of breathing put pressure against his barbed restraints, and the pain shot everywhere, like long needles had been stabbed through the length of his body. Pain in his thigh went up to shoulder. Pain from his hip went down to his toes.

The Force was clouded around him, frustrating him just as much as his sudden helplessness.

Grimacing, and then letting out an accidental high-pitched noise, he asked, “Are you sure… these can hold a Jedi?”

Dooku held out his hand, and Anakin’s lightsaber—which had fallen from his grasp—flew into his waiting palm, fingers surely grasping the hilt, clearly planning to keep it from him as long as possible. Anakin growled, but he couldn’t do much more than that.

“If you’re thinking of getting cocky, now is not the time.”

“I don’t know. I think it’s the—mm! Ahh! Agh!—perfect… time.”

His body started shaking, and he was sure he’d lost consciousness for a few seconds. That was difficult to tell though what with those moments of darkness feeling exactly the same as his waking state.

Count Dooku seemed to have been saying something (something stupid, more than likely) and he was cut off as the ship shook and he was tossed to the side.

Screams, followed by more of those dry sobs, came from Anakin as he was thrown a few feet and rolled, crashing into one of the gun turrets, cracking the back of his head against it. His vision sparked, but then cleared at least somewhat.

Those’ll be the shields.

Anakin tried to grin through his agony, even as a now-righted Dooku lifted him into the air and further wrapped the wires around him. He screamed through gritted teeth, jaw clenched so tight his teeth hurt.

“You think you’ll win this,” he observed.

Shuddering, he ground out, “I know I will.”

“Because Kenobi’s coming?”

Anakin’s eyes widened. A cry left him as he was unceremoniously dropped to the deck.

“Don’t look so surprised,” Dooku said with a wave of his hand, the guns lowering back into their hatches, and the panels sliding back into place. “I knew he would come. That’s why I trapped you here. These new weapons of mine served their purpose. I had the intel carefully leaked through appropriate sources back to the Republic. I knew it would draw you in—you, who is always so desperate to prove himself the hero. And in turn that would call to your insufferable master.”

“Former master.”

“Your strong connection would say otherwise, and the strength of that is just what I required.”

“Required for what?”

“Now, now, boy. A Sith Lord must not divulge all his secrets. Patience. You will see, but I fear you will not like it very much.”

“Just seeing you… is the worst part of this,” Anakin snapped.

“Quiet. Don’t act like a child.”

Another growl left Anakin.

The ship shook and shuddered, BOOM!s emanating through to their level. And then the ship listed, Dooku and Anakin both going flying.

Anakin’s lightsaber slipped from the Count’s grasp. Touching the Force, Anakin reached for it, but the wires around him got caught on a beam. He hung, and then smacked into the bulkhead. His vision swirled, and too much saliva came up in his mouth as an uncomfortable warmth and sense of chaos filled his stomach. The ship tilted again, and he was away from the bulkhead. All the weight he had from the artificial gravity pulled him down, making the barbs dig and rip as their positions changed, effectively twirling him in the air. Sweat that had been going down his neck and face now went to the ends of his hair. Blood dripped onto his jaw, his cheeks. It was splattered on the bulkhead, as well as the deck. It reached his left ear in moments, and dribbled in, making Anakin grimace at the odd sensation, and at his ear being blocked.

Panicking now, barely aware of his physical surroundings, Anakin did his best to trust the Force. His lightsaber ignited in a brilliant blue beam as it flew towards him, and it sliced through his mechno-arm. Just as planned, without his mechno-arm—which was now sparking from the few centimeters that were still attached to him—some of the wires hung loose. Not many, but possibly enough, he hoped.

Yet he was still trapped, hanging, bound in barbed wire on a ship that was getting bombarded with laserfire.

Obi-Wan, where are you?

Thankfully it was easy to tug at the wires now, groaning as the barbs came out of his skin. His left hand and arm came free just as he dropped from the beam. He caught himself with the Force just before he slammed into the deck.

Beyond that, Anakin wasn’t sure what to do. Pain had him collapsing, and part of his torso and his legs were still bound, wrapped and entwined with deepening agony. Dooku was approaching, even as the ship shook.

“You might… want to take care of that,” Anakin got out.

And then he couldn’t speak, feeling as if a hand was around his throat, blocking his airways. Knowing it was the Force, he fought his instincts, and refused to uselessly claw at his throat with his one hand. Instead he reached out, trying to do the same to Dooku. But he was lifted into the air, the grip tightening, hurting. His eyes bulged, his tongue wanting to come out of his mouth. With a pounding head, and screaming, begging lungs, all went black. There wasn’t even time to feel afraid.

~~~

“No! No, please! I just got promoted!”

The voice Anakin heard was tinny and high-pitched: a B1 battle droid.

The hum of a lightsaber effortlessly moving and slashing through metal followed, along with pieces clattering to the deck.

The Force roused Anakin as lightsabers whirled and all but screamed as they clashed.

Anakin blinked open his eyes and saw that he was on the bridge and Dooku and Obi-Wan were dueling. Obi-Wan had a slash down his left arm, and one across his lower back, but his Soresu was still effortless. One with the Force.

With the help of the Force, it only took a mere second for Anakin to take in everything: he was still bound in barbed wire from the hips down, and his left hand was restrained to a support rod with metal binders; nothing made specially for a Jedi (Dooku had probably been counting on him staying unconscious for awhile). His left ear was still blocked, and it was as if his eyes had trouble focusing, the scenes before him moving around and blurring, listing—like he was drunk. The burned and ruined parts of battle droids were around him. His former guards, perhaps? As to the whereabouts of his lightsaber, that was easy; it was on Dooku’s hip.

With Dooku distracted, Anakin breathed in deep, and with the aid of the Force snapped his binders. He reached out for his lightsaber.

Carefully, he managed to slash the rest of the barbs off of him once it was in his hand and the brilliant blue blade was ignited. He stood, swaying, his vision going fuzzy and sparking for a bit.

He was jolted forward as laserfire continued to bombard the ship, but no longer the bow, all of it aimed at the stern. His guess was that the engines had been hit.

Letting go, Anakin jumped into the fight, the Force putting him where he needed to be. Even while hurt and bleeding he blocked a lightsaber blow that had been about to slash down into a fallen Obi-Wan’s head.

“Anakin, stay back! You’re injured!” Obi-Wan cried.

Anakin ignored him, anger from his pain flooding through him, and all he saw was Dooku’s smug grin. He stumbled, but managed to fall into Shien, his lightsaber high. Though, he wasn’t used to doing it with his left hand, so after being pushed back relentlessly, he tried to adopt a form of one-handed Jar’kai. Yet his mind wasn’t working right, everything was fuzzy and confusing, and his blows began to miss and raising his arm was difficult.

Obi-Wan came to his aid.

Everything spinning, Anakin collapsed.

All he could do was lie on his back, free, yet helpless as Obi-Wan fought off the Count. He drove him into a retreat. Anakin rolled onto his stomach, trying to pull himself up to go after him. He barely even managed to drag himself a foot across the deck.

Obi-Wan retracted his lightsaber, clipped it on his belt, and was then by him.

“No, Anakin. Don’t move. We don’t have to go after him.” Then, Obi-Wan spoke into his comm, “Admiral, a pick-up would be really nice right about now! And Anakin needs immediate medical attention.”

“A gunship is on its way to your position. Can you get to the hangar on the lower deck?”

“We’ll certainly try.” Then, to Anakin, as he began to pick him up and put him over his shoulders: “Alright, it’s okay. We’re getting out of here.”

Anakin cried out from the pressure of being carried by Obi-Wan.

An explosion rocked the ship while they were in a passageway, waiting for a lift.

“Wha…?” Anakin moaned, even as his head tried to come up with what it could’ve been.

Blood.

He was getting blood on Obi-Wan’s robes.

Oops.

The shuddering grew worse, and Obi-Wan nearly fell.

Right. That.

“Dooku set off an explosion. My guess is in the hangar. He doesn’t want us getting off this ship.” Obi-Wan raised his comm. “Admiral, change of plans. We’re getting to an escape pod. Use a tractor beam to pull us in. Have a medical team ready.”

“Right away, General.”

The rest of the trip was a blur (quite literally) as Obi-Wan fought and destroyed droids, and the ship heated up, and metal screeched. The fires were coming.

Time was a slow slurry filled with excruciation, yet before Anakin truly realized it they were in an escape pod being pulled in by one of the Venator-class ships nearby, probably the Resolute.

Obi-Wan brushed Anakin’s sweaty and bloody hair back from his forehead.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to get to you,” Obi-Wan said. “Oh, this is all my fault.”

Anakin wanted to reach out for him, but his body decided that that took too much energy, and he simply gave a rough swallow. “It’s not your fault.”

“I’m sure we can get you all patched up.”

“You too.”

Obi-Wan looked at his arm in surprise, as if he’d entirely forgotten that Dooku had gotten a hit or two on him. “Right. We’ll both be okay.”

The escape pod was brought into the hangar aboard the Resolute. Help came.

#whumptober2021 #no.1 #barbed wire #bound #star wars #the clone wars #fanfiction #graphic depictions of violence #anakin skywalker #obi-wan kenobi #hurt!anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker whump #writing #my writing

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

HASO, “World War V.”

I realize the title would be a lot more clever if V wasn’t also the roman numeral for 5, but whatever.

I know this one is a bit over the top but in the immortal words of one of my favorite authors “err on the side of awesome.” and I will not apologize.

But I am interested, at the end, comment what two songs you would use in this scenario. I am intrigued. I will tell you the songs I imagined at the end of the story :)

“So, your plan is to…. Intentionally wake the dead?”

“Wake the, very long hibernated, and then blast them with hard rock music while we mow them down with machine guns? And…. remind me YOU are the GA armada Admiral? And this is your tactical genius.”

Admiral Adam Vir adjusted the chestplate of his space suit, “Well say anything in that sort of voice and it will sound stupid, but hear me out. It is much easier to take something out all at once than it is to go hunting them down one by one and having to worry about missing something. We bring in the helicopters, and the vibration of the rotors will disturb the ground causing the infected vrul to rise. Now knowing the Vrul, and knowing that complicated beats affect their ability to navigate, move and completely wipe out their fine motor control. Furthermore, they seem attracted to vibrations in the air and through the ground which means we will be able to confuse them even more and keep them away from the city. Barring that, the Vrul have their force fields up, which are more than a match for light machine gun fire and will even keep out the strange pollen.. There is no better time to deal with this.”

He tucked his helmet under one arm, “I trust that makes sense to everyone?’ he turned around to the docking bay where over fifty men and women stood in neat rows of polished flight suits, helmets tucked under their arms. As he spoke, their heels snapped together with a loud crackle, and their hands rose into a salute.

Behind them double the amount of marines raised their hands into the air and chanted with loud voices that rose into the air with a roar.

Admiral Vir turned to the commander of the 113th graduating class of Earth’s UNSC Airborne Helicopter division, which he had brought in on special loan. These men and women were yet to fly any real tactical missions though they had all logged thousands of hours of flight already in their careers. Many of them had never left earth until this moment, and their first mission was going to be on the face on an alien planet.

He smiled, “if you knew as much as I did about aliens, Major, you might understand why we are doing something that seems so ludicrous, but sometimes when dealing with extraterrestrials, this is what we have to do.”

He turned to where a line of fifty pod shaped objects were being loaded one by one onto a rolling rail leading towards the airlock. Beside it half a dozen small fluffy shapes were busy overseeing the attachment of fifty identical Sonic cannons to the front bottom of each. There was a break in their work as one of the small creatures came waddling across the deck.

Admiral Vir Knelt down setting his hand on the floor and allowing Lord Avex to step onto his hand and then onto his shoulder as he stood back up.

The rest of the crowd watched in wide eyed awe, though they were, luckily, well trained enough not to do or say anything stupid despite their large eyes and quivering lips, which suggested they wanted nothing better than to cuddle the stuffed-animal esque alien that rested on his shoulder, “The cannons are in place, Admiral, and I have examined each of the pods, and the yare ready to be deployed.”

“Thank you Lord Avex, your work is much appreciated.”

It was just then that Sunny walked across the deck to join them. She was wearing her space suit as well and carried her helmet under one arm. The new recruits staired on in shock as she walked over to stand next to him, “The machine guns have been mounted and are ready to go Admiral, A few of our number have volunteered to go with the marines as extra support. Behind her at least a dozen other Drev raised their fists into the air and chanted their excitement not all that different from the line of marines on the far end of the hanger.

Admiral Vir nodded turning back towards the group of young pilots, not much younger than himself, and stepped up onto the nearest crate.

“On behave of the Galactic Assembly and the Vrul council, I thank all the men and women here for agreeing to accompany us on this mission today. You will be the first airborne unit in history to participate in an operation off Earth as their first assignment. You are thousands of lightyears away from home, orbiting an alien planet thousands of years older than our own, and today your mission is not one of destruction, but of liberation. For thousands of years the Vrul have been trapped inside their walls, until time and tradition made them forget about the dangers lurking outside.” he turned his eyes to look over every last man and women that stood before him, “What we are about to face is like nothing humanity has ever faced before, below the soil of this planet lies a plague dormant for thousands of years, a horde like locusts ready to rise up and infect the city. Now we have our protections, we have our suits, and the Vrul have their shielded city, but it is our job to start riding the planet of it’s plague.” He smiled, “Plus it always helps to have door mounted machine guns and a little rock ‘n roll.”

There was a sharp cheer from the men and women before him who raised their fists into the air. Behind them the marines joined in, and so did the Drev, who, he was pleased to say, had taken to rock like they had guitar solos for breakfast.

Still grinning, he reached up, pulled on his helmet, “Right, let’s get this done.”

He pointed to Sunny, Ramirez, Maverick and a few others, “With me in the elad chopper. The rest of you split off and gear up.”

His words were obeyed almost immediately as he stepped  over to what had once looked like a pod, but was now clearly a very specialized sort of chopper. 

As he slid into the pilot’s seat, and the others strapped in behind, he heard, “I thought you were a fighter pilot, not a helicopter pilot.” They pulled on their helmets.

Adam adjusted his harnesses, “I can fly anything from space ships to paper plans, you can bet your ass if it leaves the ground, I know how to fly it.”

Maverick buckled herself into the door gunner position, “Yeah, but if it has wheels, you better bet he’s probably gonna back it over your mailbox.”

“Put a sock in it Maverick, that is hardly my fault. I never really got the opportunity to practice.”

The door at the back shut and locked tight.

All around them other doors were being locked into place, and once all of the pilots had indicated they were ready to go, Admiral Vir gave the signal, and he felt the ship change course. He adjusted his comms set and called up to the bridge where Simon would be piloting them into position.

“How are we looking, Somon.”

“Almost in position Admiral.”

“Now remember to pull back into low orbit once you let us drop, or else the gravity well is going to pull you in, and it is going to be a bitch to get her back out.” “Yes sir, I know sir.”

“Good.”

He turned his eyes forward as a red light burst into life above their heads. Everyone evacuated the airlock as the fifty pods were brought by rail towards the doors. Behind him he could hear the others chanting something, though his heart was hammering so hard he could hardly hear what they were saying.

Funny thing is he bet he felt like every one of those new pilots getting ready for their first mission. He didn’t know if it was just him, but it felt like this every single time, and he wouldn’t trade it for the world. He ignored the tingling sensation in his bladder as the light blinked green before the airlock door, and the ramp slid open.

All went silent, and below him he watched as the light of the vrul homeworld washed over the deck before him pouring like golden honey.

The sight was breathtaking, steeling the air from his lungs as he looked down.

“Damn.” 

It would just never get old.would it.

“Prepare for drop, in three, two, one, drop.”

The latch on the back of the rail released, and suddenly they were falling away from the ship. Adam was pressed back in his seat as they accelerated downwards towards the open atmosphere.

Lights blinked on the console ahead of him and the tracking screen picked up his target.

They were approaching, and they were approaching fast.

They were entering the atmosphere now, and he felt it as their pod began to rock and rattled around him and fire began to lick up on the southside of his pod. It was almost deafening as they roared into the atmosphere. He turned on his comms watching as other pods roared into the atmosphere back and behind him. He could see them on his radar as they roared downward.

He had to wonder what it must be like for them.

Their first mission, and they were doing a high altitude drop onto an alien planet.

He almost envied them their excitement. Because he had done stuff like this before, and he was still grinning like an idiot.

Light rose up around them as the sky behind them turned blue. Clouds passed below them in great swaths, and he reached down to the controls ready to deploy.

He set of a general count for the rest of the pilots.

Three 

Two

One.

He pulled the release, and the engine roared to life. There was a sudden firing as the engine spurted downward, lifting them airborne for a second and slowing their descent. His innards dropped as G force allowed his stomach to crawl into his feet. Then the rotors deployed like a fan. There was a sharp chunk and then a whirr as they began to fall again, and then the rotors caught, and began to spin. The rear rotor did the same sliding into position. Both caught with a roar, and he whooped with adrenaline.

He toggled his radio.

“Alright, ready the door gun.”

Behind him the doors were slid open, causing a rush of air to blast into the open carriage as Maverick rolled the gun into position and locked it at the door with a loud snap. On the other side Maverick was doing the same. Beside him. Sunny took control of the extra rear mounted guns set in place especially for this mission.

Adam had the guns already built into the chopper, as well as missiles if he felt like it.

Beside him and below him, he watched as the fifty other choppers deployed like his. Some of them were a bit wobbly, but everything he saw seemed to go well.

“Alright everyone take it in low, and on my mark deploy the cannons.”

He angled them lower roaring towards his target.

Below them, the Vrul city was a glassy blue purple bubble against the orange, brown landscape.

He took point, and the other choppers fell into flight beside him, clustered in ten open groups of five helicopters each, and together they rolled in low over the landscape, not twenty feet above the ground in some cases, though those were only the pilots who were comfortable getting that close. From here he could see the thudding of their rotors causing the dirt to shake and the strange trees to quiver. 

The wildlife began to roll out in different directions, racing across the ground and away from the roaring choppers as if they knew what was coming, He scanned the ground, with Maverick and Ramriez leaning on the machine guns behind him.

“See anything yet?”

“Not yet.”

He opened his comms to everyone else, “Alright everyone, deploy sonic cannons in three, two, one go.” 

The first line of lyrics, and the first drumline rolled from the directional cannons, blasting the ground with a focused beam of sound like a laser for noise.

He whooped bobbing his head to the music, the sound so powerful he was able to hear it over the roaring of the rotors.

He sure hoped the Vrul had taken his advise and hidden in inside bunkers for this.

They roared over the landscape turning in a huge clockwise circle over the landscape.

“Report if you see anything.” he ordered.

At first, it didn’t seem like anything was going to happen, and he worried that his idea, which had seemed so cool and tactical to begin with , was nothing but a waste of resources. How embarrassing was that going to be to explain to the UNSC.

Yes, I borrowed the entire 113th graduating class to go on a joyride around the Vrul capital city, yes here is my rank and gun, I will now go live on the moon in exile never to show my face again.

“Sir! I have something.”

“Go.”

“Just south of the city, sir. I have movement coming from the trees in thermal.”

“Same here sir.” 

He was at the point of the circle, so he wasn’t likely to see it, made sense.

“Alright , let’s give it a pass. I want as many of those bugs out of the ground before we start shooting.”

They roared over the ground with the sound of the base rattling the stone below them. As he watched, one of the strange animals he had seen running, tipped over as the cannon passed over it and fell to the ground twitching. Apparently pattern tolerance was not something that many things on this planet had.

“Sorry guy, but things are going to be better when we are done.”

Rocks jumped and rattled as they took a wide turn around the city.

He could see the shield pulsing against the sonic waves that were bouncing off the ground and back into the air.

The blades of the helicopters cut through the air so fast it was like a light grey translucent wall against the sky.

They had almost made a full rotation.

“Holy shit.” for a second he wondered who had spoken until he realised that it was himself.

They were everywhere, swarming like ants over the landscape, turning the ground black in some places as they crawled over each other in confused circles. As the music got closer, their purposeful movement turned into awkward confusion.

“Stagger!.”

The formations staggered, falling behind each other so that everyone was always covering one segment.

“Ready to deploy the  sonic attack on my mark, in three, two, one, mark.”

It was a guitar solo this time, one that he had listened to thousands of times, and one that he couldn't have resisted using to kill zombie Vrul.

Th drumline cut in as the third obvious pattern in the song, and as it roared over the wave of Zombified Vrul, there was an immediate reaction as they all began staggering and falling to the ground, behind him he felt as the guns opened fire on either side with a sharp burrrr as the rotating barrels started spitting hot lead at 1,000 rounds per minute.

He laughed with something like maniacal glee as the powerful rounds poured into the infected creatures ripping them apart sometimes four at a time sending a wave of yellow pollen up into the air, to be kicked up by helicopter blades as they passed over. His circle kept him closest to the wall, so he was able to catch the majority of them before they could even attempt to make it to the city.

He toggled his own guns, and stitched a line of bullets over a completely black mass, which erupted into a burst of yellow. His circle took him around to where the Vrul had managed to make it to the wall of the city, and had begun climbing each other like they planned to create a ladder using bodies to the top of the wall. He gunned them down with great prejudice. As they moved along the wall, more and more of the creatures had piled themselves higher and higher, but that is not a trend that they allowed to last long. One of the piles managed to make itself three quarters of the way up the wall before their sonic attack hit them, causing the tower to collapse as both glorious drum lines and bullets roared into them.

He carved a circle through the sky coming over their first line of attack, where dark bodies were doing the best to crawl over their fallen brethren and pools of yellowed pollen having fallen to the ground. Ahead of him he could see a cloud of yellow where the following helicopter was stitching tis way over the landscape with great prejudice.

Behind him, he thought he heard Maverick cackle like a swamp witch as she loaded another belt of ammunition.

Yeah sure people back home were cool, but they would never be this cool, flying over an alien landscape, killing alien zombies while listening to a little ACDC, They could dream but nothing would ever be more awesome.

He couldn’t wait to tell his siblings.

His sister would be so jealous.

She had always been a fan of the zombie genre.

“Admiral, Admiral I think some of them are starting to fly.” Came the nervous comment over the com.

“Alright, remember the drill, just keep calm, and go higher if you can, then when you have enough clustered below you, drop one of the canisters.”

There was an acknowledgement over the comms.

With that announcement still running through his head, he got ready to drop one of his own canisters.

He was in view of the last helicopter as it rose into the air pursued by hundreds of little black dots that would erupt into yellow spores as they were hit by machine gun fire, and then something dropped from the bottom of the chopper, and then exploded just above the rising infected.

Thousands of tiny organic needles rained down on the vrul, cutting straight through their helium sacks, and sending them crashing downwards, into their companions, and finally to the ground where they erupted on impact, killing even more of their companions.

Up ahead, a wall of black rose before him, but he was faster.

They rose into the air and he roared over the wall, dropping one two and then three canisters in quick succession causing a wave of them to drop to the ground. The following helicopters followed his lead. He was having to rise higher and higher into the air, but still he was managing to keep ahead of them, they were slow and he was fast, but that didn’t stop a few of them from getting in front of him. 

There was a jolt as his rotors hit one of them, and he gritted his teeth, it was fine, one or two was fine as long as he didn’t allow them to gum it up.

He pulled back and up and continued to drop more and more of the caisters.

One or two of them floated high enough to make it close to his sonic cannon, but they were blown back and the pressure caused their helium sacks to rupture.

***

The Vrul council stood on the wall overlooking the outside of the city as a wall of the Vrul infected rose into the sky obscuring everything in a wave of dark bodies. Human helicopters roared in a wide circle around the city, and everywhere they went yellow spores erupted into the air. All of them wore safety masks as a precaution, but that didn’t stop the fear that rose up in them as they stepped back arms held out in shock. Dr. Krill stared on in fascination and awe. He wasn’t wearing hearing protection like the others, he could handle human music to a certain degree, and it was pretty muffled through the shielding.

He watched in shock and awe as one of the helicopters cut too low, and rolled right into a dense thicket of the floating bodies. There was a horrific eruption of yellow as the rotors caught hundreds of the creatures, and then the helicopter itself began to spin out of control crashing and rupturing Vrul as it roared towards the ground.

The emergency systems deployed firing one last time to slow the chopper’s crash. The sudden burst of flame ruptured a line of the Vrul infected before it finally plowed into the ground sending up a wave of yellow spores.

“Sweet Nebulon.” one of the council muttered.

Two more helicopters went down, and it looked as if there weren't going to be enough bullets.

What had they done!”

***

“Everyone, On me, increase sonic cannons! Now!” he had seen the three choppers go down, and he had seen all three of their safety measures deploy, but he couldn’t be sure if any of them had survived. “Avoid the crash sites. Everyone on me!”

The entire fleet of remaining choppers clustered together turning up the volume on their sonic cannons, and the combined force was so powerful that some of the bodies began to rupture even without gunfire though it still tore downwards.

They took two more passes before he saw his ammunition running low. That was fine. The Vrul bodies were no longer coming in waves and it would be harder to hit them from above, now that they weren’t just coming in a wave.

He aimed for one of the crash sites.

“I want a group of us to set down. Only choppers with Drev on them!”

There was agreement as ten choppers split off to the three crash sites.

Adam roared down from the sky, and set down on a smoking heap of yellow coated bodies.

He cut the engine , and reach back to pull his spear from where it was attached to the floor of the chopper. It wasn’t a Drev spear and it wasn’t a human spear but something in between, with the reverse spike on the end like they had done with the NeoSpartans.

He turned in his seat just in time to see the two marines push their machine guns out of position and one of the infected Vrul to come charing at Ramirez.

A spear appeared in his hand in that moment, and he ran it through the face.

Sunny was behind him a second later, and together they were out the door, three of them armed with spears, maverick armed with her assault rifle, and together they made their way towards the downed chopper.

Making it there just in time to see as a pile of clustered Vrul was ruptured from within, and a very angry Drev came roaring out.

He recognized from the height who it was.

“Kanan!” he heard Sunny yell.

They ran over to help, sweeping through the cluster of Vrul zombies before they began fanning out across the open plane.

He turned up the speakers on the outside of his suit and allowed it to blare music as he raced towards anything that still looked to be moving. A few of them were still floating into the sky, but the remaining helicopters were taking care of those, and Maverick from the ground on occasion.

He ran one through the face, turned and clubbed the other in the head like he was swinging  for a home run.

His blad sliced straight through the neck of one as he staggered over the uneven ground.

To the side of him, sunny was cutting through them with impunity like a god of war, touching them though they never touched her, the yellowed gore spattering her suit.

As more and more of the Vrul were cut out of the sky, more and more choppers landed, and men and women filed out, running in open lines, using whatever the could to dispatch the remaining bodies.

He saw one of the new pilots grab a Vrul by the neck, and twist it like he was breaking the neck of a chicken, surprised when the entire head came off. He kind of hoped the Vrul council did not see that.

By the end of the battle. Four of their choppers had been downed. Two humans were dead, both of them in the crashes, and at least four more critically injured.

He felt bad about it.

But he couldn’t have predicted that.

At least none of the pilots had died.

Two of his marines had though, tossed from the choppers as they were falling from the sky. It made him sick to think about their families, the ones that he would have to send letters to, but he tried not to think about that for now.

Thousand upon thousands of the vrul zombies were dead, and even as he thought this dozens more were being dispatched by hand by humans who were no more than walking radios at this point, having chosen their own theme songs to fight zombies.

Some of thor picks were quite surprising, though he couldn’t blame them for their humor or their irony.

They still had a long way to go, but at least he knew how it could be done.

Vrul past, hopefully, would never come back to haunt them. 

The two songs I imagine Adam picked for this was 

First: Raise Hell - Dorothy

Second: Thunderstruck - ACDC

[shadoedseptmbr]

meet cute pt 3

In honor of MELE coming out this week, I’ve polished up a series of ficlets I’m calling Meet Cute: All Aboard the SR1.  

Pt 1 here:  Anderson 

Pt 2 here:  Joker 

And here’s part 3: Karin Chakwas

meet cute pt 3 

Even in the flurry of activity that precedes the launch of a new fleet darling, Karin Chakwas takes pride in the fact that her medbay is a haven of peace and respite.  The corporal from the base clinic has delivered all of her requested supplies and she’s sipping a cup of tea and mapping out their appropriate storage so that she can have everything to hand. 

Once away, she’ll have a well trained field medic by the name of Alenko, the staff Lieutenant, as her main back up but he’s not due for another thirty minutes.  He’d pinged her omni to assure her that he’d be in place to help her with the squaring away.  She appreciates it. Not only will he be more effective if he understands her layout and storage methods, she can also check him off her list.

Everyone will have to submit to a thorough physical once they’re away, but she has three patients aboard that will need some special attention.  Alenko’s arrival will mean she can take his baseline scans to compare to his records and make sure she can keep tabs on his migraines and anything else his implant might get up to.  

Jeff Moreau had already submitted to his first exam, fidgeting next to the medbay when she arrived.  He was...a bit more stoic about the scans than she had expected from the notes in his file.  Fascinating case history.  Apparently Anderson had made his cooperation with her a requirement after some earlier adventures that she will have to pry out of one of them.  She was glad to have arrived early to get him in since she very much doubted she’d be able to wrest him from the cockpit until the initial shakedown is over, at the least.  

So that will just leave Shepard.  Lieutenant Shepard, last Chakwas had seen her; in need of some burn gel a couple of ships ago. Lieutenant Commander now.  Shepard’s latest mission had exposed her to some unfortunate toxins and the base medical clinic had sent over the records and a request to monitor her blood chemistry for the next week, to ward off any nasty surprises.

Better to get it over with.  No telling how many meetings and last minute report filings Shepard will have in the next day or so and getting her in now will allow for any delay should the cruise get exciting.

The commander answers her ping with an efficient ping of her own and, five minutes later, the bulkhead door whirrs open.  “I literally just stepped on board, Doc, you couldn’t let me stash my gear?”

“Once you don’t have to carry your bag, Commander, I very much doubt you’ll have a moment for me.  All I need is a quick scan.”  

Shepard nods her head and strolls to one of the beds, cooperative as always and a pleasant change from Karin’s usual patients.  “Not a bad setup.  Bigger than the Shenyang, anyway.”

“Hmm. I do miss the interior windows, though.  This design is rather claustrophobic.”

“Turian. They tend to be pretty practical on materials usage.”  Shepard hops up onto the bed and lies down.  “Pretty cushy.  Might bunk here if I can’t find a corner to sling a hammock.”  

“The pods are quite cramped,” Karin sympathizes as she starts up the scanner.  “I’m surprised I have a private bunk on a ship this…” she hesitates over her word choice.

“Streamlined?” Shepard raises an eyebrow.

“I was going to say compact but streamlined is more politic.”  

“Eh.  The pods aren't too bad. Too quiet, though.  Adams showed me a little cubby down below Engineering.  I might grab it; wedge in a desk, if the captain doesn’t object.”  

“I think Captain Anderson would let you sleep in the cockpit he’s so pleased you took the position.”

When Shepard doesn’t answer, Karin glances down at her silent, still patient, Shepard shrugs when she realizes she’s being observed.  “I got orders.  I just follow them.”  Rubbing her long fingered freckled hand over the top of her closely shorn head, she asks,  “So, am I going to be sprouting an extra kidney or bleeding green or anything more exciting?”  

The monitor beeps as it finishes and Karin makes a quick account of the data streaming across her omni.  “No, it all looks clear.  Healthy as always. You’re free to go, Commander.  I’ll see you in...two days.  Unless you develop any sort of…”

“Rash, headache, blurred vision, skin irritation between digits, discharge, damaged fingernails…”

Raising her hand, Karin stops her. “All right, I see you’ve been given the lecture.”

Shepard smirks, “By the medic on the Pragia and the doc on Arcturus.  Yesterday.  Everyone on board gonna get the special treatment?”

Affirming, Karin nods. “Just like on every other ship I've served.  I need…”

“A baseline from which to extrapolate.”   

Shepard’s almost got her accent down and Karin has to smile at the Commander’s innocent expression even as she chides,  “Now, why do you ask questions to which you know the answer, Commander?”

Her smile twists a bit.  “‘Cause there’s just so much detail in how people tell me things I already know, Doc.  Anderson wants us all hands on deck to meet the crew in twenty.  I’m headed up to the cockpit, if you need me again.  See what I can see.”

Karin dismisses her and the Commander is moving at speed when she hits the door.  Fortunately the turians have allowed for such things and the door sensors already have it open enough for her to slide through.  

Sighing, she returns to her tea and requisitions. The captain has his routines and she’s sure she’ll get used to them again, but she had hoped to have more put away by now.  

Her omni alerts her, a blinking message she’d missed while busy with Shepard.  Lieutenant Alenko has just cleared the airlock.  Well enough time to get his scan in, too.  Excellent.

She does like a smooth start to her shakedown cruises.  Bodes well for the rest of the tour.  

Just before she picks up her cup, Karin pauses, wondering why she suddenly feels like knocking on wood.

#sept writes #meet cute #karin chakwas #aedan shepard

[actress4him]

In Irons 4 - Punishment

(Prompt #3 for Summer of Whump)

If a little bit of this seems familiar, it’s because I mixed what was originally Whumpay Day 9 in. I liked that drabble, and it’s what started this whole series, but it didn’t work perfectly as is and was super short. This chapter, on the other hand, ended up being really long!

Taglist: @darthsutrich , @a-series-of-whumpy-events , @ladydani101

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Warnings: lady whumpee (male whumper), imprisonment, restraints, starvation, dehydration, brief mention of noncon touch, brief emeto mention, hallucinations

.

. The sound of footsteps on the wooden steps wakes Adelaide from a restless, uncomfortable sleep. Lifting her head off the dirty floor, where she had finally resigned herself to settle when she couldn’t stay sitting up any longer, she blinks and squints at the figure coming into the brig. His face is obscured by the light from the lantern he’s holding. Adelaide quickly uses her manacled hands to shove herself upright, then decides even that’s not enough to make her feel safe and wobbles to her feet. 

The man comes closer, setting the lantern down just outside her cell so that she can finally make out his face. It’s Marshall. So far he’s never treated her unkindly, but that was before he knew her secret. Besides, he carries out the Captain’s orders, so he could very well be there to take her to her doom. 

For a moment they remain silent. He stares at her, as if trying to reconcile her outward appearance with the knowledge he now holds. Not that there’s much hiding it now, not with her shirt still gaping open. She hadn’t been able to twist her hands around to rebutton it.

“Thought you might need some food and water,” he says finally, holding out a flask and a sliver of bread between the bars of her cell.

She glances down at the offering, and back up at his face. “How...how long has it been?” She doesn’t bother to deepen her voice this time, but the way it rasps in her throat doesn’t sound the most feminine, anyway.

Marshall gives her a look that she might would call sympathetic if she didn’t know better. “About a day.”

Nodding slowly, she eyes the bread again, not sure if she should trust it. “And has the Captain reached a decision on what is to be done with me?”

“Not yet. I’ve mentioned to him that ‘twas Adams and me that brought you aboard, and that you probably continued the ruse for self-preservation.” He shrugs. “If you’re lucky it might sway him to be more lenient. Captain hates being lied to, though.”

He had...spoken up for her? That’s certainly unexpected. 

Adelaide runs her tongue over her dry bottom lip, listening to the water slosh in the flask as he speaks. He must notice, because he holds both it and the bread out once again. 

“Here, take this. You’re gonna need it. Captain...doesn’t exactly know I’m doing this, so don’t say anything to anyone about it.”

Finally she walks forward, still a bit unsteady on her feet but trying her best to hide it, and takes the food and water. She feels awkward, unsure what to do or say, but settles on nodding and whispering, “Thank you.”

Clearing his throat, Marshall steps back and nods once, as well. “Alright. Well. Just...just slide that flask over toward the stairs when you’re done with it, that way if anyone else comes down they won’t think it’s yours. I’ll pick it up whenever I come back.” Without waiting for a reply, he bends down, picks up the lantern, and turns to disappear back up the staircase.

He doesn’t end up coming down to see her again until her fate has been decided. Adelaide nibbles at the stale bread and makes the water last as long as she can, obediently disposing of the flask when it’s empty and sitting back down to wait some more in the endless silence and darkness. By her best guess, another day has passed when more footsteps traverse the stairs. But when Marshall returns, he brings another man with him, and that’s when she knows it’s time to really be afraid.

The bright sunlight is nearly blinding as she’s escorted up onto the deck, ankles free but wrists still bound. It’s a beautiful day, though. The sea is calm this afternoon. Gentle. The kind of sea that makes sailing easy, makes her feel like she’s out there for leisure, not being forced into laboring for filthy pirates.

Adelaide tries to enjoy it, even as Captain Payne sneers at her and orders the men to bring her toward the bow. There’s no telling if and when she’ll be able to enjoy a beautiful day like this again.

The edge of the ship and the water loom ever nearer, and she has half a mind to start struggling, to fight to get away from the rail, but she knows it would do her no good. She can’t even stop walking, the men on either side of her propelling her ever forward with their vice grips on her arms.

“There,” the Captain orders, pointing. “Make sure it’s good and tight.”

Suddenly she’s shoved back, away from the water. Her back collides with something hard. Before she can process what’s happening, Marshall and the other man are working together to wind rope round and round her torso, pinning her to what she’s realized is the frontmost mast of the ship.

So she’s not being thrown overboard. That doesn’t make her feel more than marginally better, not when she still doesn’t know what is being done to her.

The two men finish their job, tying the rope off in one of their expert knots, and Marshall produces a key to remove the shackles from her wrists. It’s a relief to have those gone, at least, though she wishes she could move her arms in order to massage the sore skin left behind. The rope is tight, just as ordered, only barely loose enough to not cut off her blood flow. The thick fabric of her coat keeping it from digging into her skin and rubbing it raw is the only thing making it bearable.

There’s nothing, however, to keep the Captain’s spittle from landing on her face when he leans in to sneer at her.

“You’ll learn quickly that I don’t tolerate deceit of any kind on my ship.” She’s smelled many foul things in her time aboard this ship, but his breath may win the top spot. “You’ll stay right here for three days. If you’re good and don’t put up a fuss, I might let Marshall give you some water once or twice.”

She won’t give him the satisfaction of speaking, but she does level a steady, defiant glare back at him. The punishment scares her. She can’t deny that. She’s already weak from the last two days in the cell with very little to eat and drink. But he won’t see her break.

He takes another step closer, and she refuses to flinch. “And if you think that seems brutal…” He chuckles darkly. “Try crossin’ me again. Then you’ll see brutal.”

She wants to protest that she didn’t cross him, it wasn’t him she was originally aiming to fool, and technically no one on this ship ever asked her if she was a female. Instead she presses her lips tighter together and keeps her gaze out on the horizon as he walks away.

The evening goes by slowly. Her face is quickly chapped by the ever present wind that she can hardly turn away from, her eyes dried out by the same. Her stomach rumbles with hunger. That small slice of bread is the only thing she’s eaten in two days, and while she’s had to get used to much sparser rations ever since coming onto the ship, this is far worse. 

Once the sun sinks below the horizon to her right, the temperature rapidly drops. The crew dwindles down to just the nighttime shift, leaving the ship in near silence. She can hear the slapping of the water against the hull. It gives her something to focus on, something other than the shivers that rack her body and the dryness of her lips. She even manages to be lulled into a kind of half-awake, unthinking state, though she doesn’t actually sleep until morning when the air starts to warm again. Then her sleep is fitful, frequently interrupted by the sounds of the morning crew going about their duties. 

If she thought the evening and night dragged on, the next day is much worse. Hunger gnaws at her stomach and her lips are even more chapped. Adelaide can feel herself growing weaker as time goes on, slumping further into the ropes, head lolling forward from time to time without her permission. It’s becoming harder, too, to distract herself from her misery. 

When Marshall appears in what must be the early afternoon, she nearly sobs with relief. The small flask he holds is quite possibly the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. Without speaking, he unscrews the lid and holds it up to her lips, and glorious water washes across them and into her parched mouth. She doesn’t even care that it’s stale and luke-warm, it’s heavenly.

Marshall pulls the flask away after only a few seconds, and she’s so upset by the loss that she accidentally whines, though she quickly cuts off the embarrassing sound. He offers her a half-smile.

“Not too fast. We don’t want you vomiting it all back up.”

He’s right, that’s one of the most terrible things she can think of happening right now. Adelaide nods, regretting it when her head throbs, and keeps her eyes averted from his. He lifts the flask again, and she relishes every second she gets. All too soon, she’s having to turn her head to the side so that she can tip it further back, Marshall following the motion until the last drops are drained. 

Replacing the cap, he turns to leave as silently as he came. Before she fully knows what she’s doing, Adelaide calls out after him. “Stay!”

When he looks back over his shoulder at her, brow furrowed, she drops her voice to a near whisper, cutting her eyes away again. “Please? Can you...would you…? I…” Her chin drops down toward her chest. “I feel like I’m going to lose my mind.”

From the corner of her eye, she sees him lean to the side, probably looking over the rest of the ship, maybe even gauging the Captain’s position, before he steps back closer to her. He, too, speaks in a low voice. “I’m sorry. I cannot. Not without getting myself in trouble and you in even more trouble.”

With that, he’s gone, leaving her to the sun and the wind and her own thoughts again.

On the second night she manages to doze despite the chill in the air. The second day, however, is the most miserable thing she’s ever experienced in her young life. As they travel farther south the days had been growing ever warmer, but this is by far the warmest day yet. The sun bears down on them all, but while the men shed their coats - and some even their shirts - she has no such option. Her throat is impossibly dry, her lips crack painfully. Running her tongue across them does little to moisten them and leaves a bitter iron taste in her mouth. The brightness of the sun makes her head pound even harder than before, and from time to time strange colors dance in her vision.

She’d cry if she could, but her eyes feel as dry as the rest of her.

This time when Marshall approaches she can’t stop herself from begging, though her voice rasps horribly. “Please, please, I need...I...please…” It doesn’t even make any sense, but he garners the urgency, regardless, and brings the flask to her as quickly as possible. Calloused fingers slide under her chin, as if he’s unsure whether or not she can keep her head up on her own. She’s grateful. She’s unsure of just the same thing.

He forces her to take it slowly once again, and she squeezes her eyes shut in between gulps, trying to savor the water as much as trying to block out the sun’s rays. When the water is gone, though, and Marshall begins to screw the lid back on, she opens them, blearily, to look at him. His coat is missing and his shirt is unbuttoned. She’d blush if she had the energy.

“I don’t...I don’t think I can…”

He gives her that half-smile again. She thinks maybe it’s a sympathetic smile, but she’s really in no condition to judge such a thing. “It’s only one more day. You’ll make it.”

That night her mind is filled with nonsensical thoughts and imaginings of people she knows for certain aren’t there at the time. Her husband’s face morphs into the Captain’s and back again. Her parents stand to the side and tell her what a good match it is, Marshall tells her she’ll make it, all while the Captain gropes her and berates her for not having children and Charles pulls the rope around her tighter, tighter, until she can’t breathe and can’t feel her limbs. She’s not sure whether she’s awake or asleep for any of it, she just wants it to end.

The third day passes without her really being aware of it. One moment it’s nighttime, the next the sun is climbing up into the sky, burning at her skin once again, and the next she’s falling, ropes finally gone, body collapsing to the deck without anything to stop it.

“Permission to take her to her bunk and get her some food, sir?” she hears, barely, as if from a great distance away.

Perhaps the permission is granted, perhaps not. All she knows is that she’s picked up, hefted over a broad shoulder like a weightless sack of flour, and she groans with the change in position and altitude. Again, time passes without her knowing, and when she’s aware of the world again she’s lying in her hammock, in the blessed dimness of the bunk room, and Marshall is there, with another flask and a bowl of something that smells wonderful. 

“Hello there, Miss Gray.” His smile is a bit brighter this time. “You made it.”

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump3 #in irons #adelaide the pirate #dehydration #whump #whump writing #lady whump #lady whumpee #imprisonment tw #restraints tw #starvation tw #dehydration tw #rope #tied to a mast #nonconsensual touching tw #emeto tw #hallucinations tw #pirates #pirate ship #pirate oc #original fiction

[eirist]

Little Bits and Pieces of Heaven

THE EGG HUNT SHENANIGANS

One-shot #: 25

Disclaimer: One Piece (and its characters) belongs to Eiichiro Oda-sensei.

Reminder: I have no beta-reader. Any grammatical and spelling errors are solely mine.

Warning: OOC possible. One shot scribble.

Rating: T (Just light flirting stuff)

Note: Light teasing. PWP. And pure insanity I tell you. Just ending my quarantine with another one-shot. Because who knows when I can write and upload one again.

Summary: "Found the bunny."      

With a cheerful and dazzling smile, Luffy—the captain of the infamous Straw Hat Pirates—held out his hands to show off the beautifully decorated basket to his crew members.

Sanji cocked an eyebrow at him. "Seriously?"

"Yes!” Luffy exclaimed. “We're gonna go hunt for eggs!" His already bright smile widened some more at the idea of an adventure.

This time it was Zoro’s turn to raise an eyebrow. "Wearing… that?" His lone eye scrutinized the rabbit costume the rubber man had on.

The younger boy nodded again, head bobbing up and down enthusiastically. “Usopp and Chopper are wearing the same!”

"Yes we are!" Usopp and Chopper yelled proudly, pumping their fists up in the air.

“…”

“What the hell is wrong with this island?" The cook muttered under his breath with a slight shake of his head.

“More like what the hell is wrong with them?” Zoro grunted, folding his arms across his chest as he nudged his head towards the three.

It was one of those rare days when he and the idiot swordsman weren’t snarling insults at each other because there is a more pressing and absurd matter to attend to...

…like Luffy, Usopp and Chopper in bunny suits, holding colorful baskets to join the island’s ‘egg hunt’.

“Fufufu…” Robin laughed softly from her deck chair where she was relaxing. “It’s the island’s tradition. They are celebrating what they call Easter.” She explained as she flipped a page of the book in her hand.  

“By looking for eggs?” Zoro inquired with a frown as the three bunnies started singing a song about egg hunting.

“Yes,” Robin nodded. “We just so happen to arrive here right in time for that celebration.”

“Weird.”

“No it’s not!” Usopp retorted looking aggravated at Zoro’s comment. “I recalled visiting an island once where hunting for eggs is considered a manly man’s sport! The one who finds the most wins the title of the most manliest man alive.”

“Suge Usopp!” Chopper gasped.

“That is right,” the sniper crossed his arms over his chest haughtily. “And guess who won the title five years in a row?”

“You, of course.” Both Zoro and Sanji drawled, with the same expression on their faces that clearly says… they’re not buying Usopp’s obviously untrue and exaggerated story.

Robin stifled her giggles behind her hand as Usopp yelled his retorts at the two. Both Luffy and Chopper were looking at him with their eyes sparkling from amazement.

“Whoa you’re awesome Usopp!” Luffy commented.

“You really are strong!” The reindeer gushed.

“I know right!” Usopp answered with an approving grin and a thumbs up.

“But I will defeat you today!” The captain declared. “I will be the one to win the title of the most manliest man alive.”

“And you’d do that…” Sanji said in an almost bored tone. “By finding… a lot of eggs?”

“Yes!”

Sanji sighed as he pulled out a packet of cigarettes from his pants.

“And you really need to wear… those costumes to hunt for them?” Zoro asked, still doubtful why they need to be in that.

“Yes!”

“It’s tradition Zoro,” Usopp stated matter-of-factly. “You can’t find the eggs if you’re not in a bunny costume! You’re so ignorant.”

“Temee…”

“Hey! Why don’t you join us too Zoro?” Luffy invited and Zoro almost blanched at that.

Almost.

"Yeah!” Chopper chirped in. “Join us! The more the merrier!"

“Nope. I’m good.” Zoro answered almost instantly. Like hell he would don that stupid costume and then hunt for stupid eggs.

Best to just leave them to their crazy shit.

“Have fun.” He waved them off.

Sanji let out a ‘tch’ before taking a drag from his cigarette. Things seemed to get weirder and weirder these past few days. But somehow the idea that he'll be free of the usual food stock raiders for the day feels too good to pass. "Alright then, run along rabbits. Go scour the island for eggs.”

“We will!” The trio chorused.

Sanji nodded at them. “And don't you dare create any messes for us to clean you hear?"

“Eeeh…” a voice from behind them suddenly said. “Don’t worry about it Sanji-kun."

And just like that the cook immediately swiveled around to face the newcomer.

"Nami-swaaan! Don't you look dazzling in that ensemble, my sweet!" He crooned as his eyes automatically turned to hearts, kneeling down on one knee in front of the navigator.

“Thank you!” Nami beamed at him and winked. The chef instantly fell down the lawn deck in a swoon, blabbering about her beauty. She was wearing an outfit just like the one she had on when they went after him in Whole Cake Island. Only this time the corset skirt is frillier and more colorful as the layers sported different shades of pastel spring palette.

The puffed sleeves of her blouse are pulled down her shoulders, revealing them and she had put on a rabbit ears headband on top of her head.

Zoro glared at the prone figure of the blond before shifting his attention to Nami. “You going with them?”

Nami nodded with a scheming grin. “Heard something about money prizes.”

“Of course you wouldn’t let that pass,” the green-haired man smirked. His lone eye trailed up and down her form as he studied her. “And you're supposed to be what? A rabbit as well?"

"Yes."

He jerked a thumb towards the three doofuses in their onesie costumes. "Why not wear the same as them?"

Nami narrowed her eyes at him as Sanji barked threats from where he was still lying down. Something about shutting his trap if he can’t say something nice to his precious Nami-san.

Zoro ignored him. Even as he started shouting insults that he is being the usual, unfashionable stupid marimo that he is.

"Because that is not cute." The map maker huffed, placing her hands on her hips.

"Looks ok on them." The grin that Zoro send her way was nasty.

She flipped her hair over her shoulder snootily. "Say one more word about what I'm wearing Zoro and I'll make sure your next sentence is, “Please don't charge me”."

"Right. Don't charge me… greedy witch," he said monotonously, deliberately omitting the word please and adding an insult as well.

She gave him the evil eye.

“Now go and run along with your rabbit friends."

"You can kiss your next island allowance goodbye Zoro," Nami said in an overly sweet tone as she smiled evilly. "I'll be splurging them for expensive lingerie later."

"OI!"

"Byeeee!" Nami immediately pranced away from him to escape; pushing Usopp, Luffy and Chopper towards the ship’s ladder so that they could embark. Sanji was automatically back on his feet and on her side to assist her while nose bleeding about lingerie and the orange-haired woman.

"Damn it Nami! You come back here!" Zoro was yelling as he stomped to follow her.

“Have fun!” Robin called out to them, eyes never leaving her book and creating duplicates of her hand at the railing to wave at them.

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

It was around lunch time when Nami entered the crow’s nest. The first thing her eyes landed upon was the figure of a sprawled Zoro, unsurprisingly asleep on the floor.

She approached the thunderously snoring swordsman and nudged his side with her foot.

“Hey,” she prodded him awake. “Hey Zoro, wake up!”

The snoring stopped. And there was a grunt. Then a tiger-like yawn, followed by another grunt.

Nami rolled her eyes at his response. “Zoro!”

“WHAT?!” Zoro answered irritably. He opened his eye and blinked up at her. “Hunt’s done?” He asked groggily before turning to his side so his back was now facing her, not even waiting for her answer.

A frown appeared on her lips. What a rude and lazy ass. She poked him on the back with her feet. He merely grunted again and ignored her.

“They’re still hunting,” she explained, looking down on his prone figure disapprovingly. She doubt if he was listening. Sometimes, you might as well talk to a rock than Roronoa Zoro.

“The game is happening on the whole island,” she continued. “I went back to get reinforcements. So wake up and come with me!”

“Will not. I’d rather sleep.”

Nami settled down on the nest’s floor just behind him. This time she was prodding him with her finger, making sure her nail was digging into his skin.

“Stop that.”

“I will not.”

“Why aren’t you looking as well?” He grumbled petulantly as she continued poking his back.

“That’s what my three rabbits are for! I’m just there to oversee and secure the money prize!”

“You can’t make me join you.”

And Nami leaned forward so her lips were almost touching his ear. “Really?”

“Whatever you’re planning. It won’t work.” He declared smugly, even as he kept his eye closed.

She laughed softly, letting her breath tickle his ear. “You’re no fun.” She shifted closer, bending over so she could drape her body on top of him.

“You know… I’m not planning anything.” She whispered, letting her lips lightly touch his ear. “I’m just here to offer a ten percent deduction to your current… debt amount.” She let her hand slide inside his t-shirt, past his haramaki to caress the well-defined muscles there.

“I already told you that’s not gonna work.” Zoro’s eye was now open and looking at her. A smirk was on his lips. “And I don’t recall borrowing money from you onna.”

“You don’t?” Nami gasped exaggeratedly. “What about that time in Vert Island? You owe me belis for the cottage rent.”

Zoro’s brow furrowed. “Thought that was your treat?”

She mock-pouted. “Oh Zoro. When are you gonna learn that there are no such things as free or treat when it comes to me?”

“You really are a wicked witch.” The green-haired man groused. “And after I made sure you thoroughly enjoyed your stay there.”

Nami snickered. Zoro noticed that the bunny ears on her head actually made her look more mischievous. “Nothing’s free nowadays Zoro,” she pointed out. “Favor for a favor. I pay; you work your ass off.”

He snorted. “Next time, I’m just lying down and letting you do all the work. Whether you pay or not.”

She threw back her head and laughed again. “Do the hunt and maybe I’ll humor you.” She bent over and placed teasing kisses along his jaw and neck.

“In your dreams.” He sneered and she felt his arm snaked around her, his hand squeezed the back of her thigh before it slid up to do the same on one plump cheek of her behind.

That made her bite her lip even as she complained. “Tch! You’re a hard man to bargain with.”

A shark-like grin appeared on Zoro’s face. “Yeah.” He playfully slapped her ass before giving it another squeeze. “Offer a better deal Nami.” He said teasingly against her ear this time before nipping at the skin below it as his hand continued caressing her backside.

“Mmm… well what do you—”

“WHAT THE HELL?”

They simultaneously turned their heads towards the voice.

Sanji was gaping at them from the nest’s entrance… his eyes wide as saucers. His face was so red. As red as the blood dripping down his nose as he took in the image of Nami's perfectly shaped-derriere and her lacy thong as her ridiculously short skirt and position put them on display….

… along with the shitty swordsman’s hand on it.

Silence reigned for a moment. Then…

“TAKE YOU GODDAMNED HANDS OFF HER AHO KENSHIN!”

“TAKE YOUR GODDAMNED EYES OFF HER ASS ERO COOK!”

“Temee…”

Both men growled the word at the same time as Nami disentangled herself from Zoro. She wasn’t even embarrassed at being caught. They weren’t actually keeping it from the crew after all.

But of course it would be better if Sanji was the last one to know.

Nami sighed heavily as she watched the two throwing death glares at each other.  

It's the beginning of chaos.

The two attacked each other almost immediately. Sanji had leapt inside the crow’s nest, flaming legs and all as Zoro avoided him and made a grab for his swords.

And manage to hit the cook straight in the face with the sheathed end of his red katana.

Her mouth fell open as the Sanji collapsed down the steel floor. But she knew of course this was far from over.

In one swift move a grinning Zoro carted her towards the nest’s entrance. He enjoyed that, she knew. In a matter of seconds they were down the metal ladder while Sanji recovered, fumed and yelled expletives at his rival.

Using one arm to hold on to the ladder’s rung as his other was wrapped around her waist, Zoro swung slightly for leverage.

Nami’s eyes widened when she realized what he’s about to do.

“Zoro! NOOOOO!!!”

She screamed bloody murder when he let go and made the high jump down onto the Sunny’s deck.

Nami’s heart leaped to her throat. That was probably the reason why her scream stopped coming out of her mouth. Halfway down the long drop she could swear she felt her soul left her as her mind went blank.

She's going to kill Zoro! Mark her words!

Somewhere above Sanji was still yelling threats and curses.

The swordsman landed on the deck as if it was just a natural thing to do.

Oh dear heavens. Roronoa Zoro will be paying for this stupid stunt of his for the rest of his life until his next and next and next!

“Zorooo!” Luffy greeted when he spotted the former pirate hunter on the deck. “Heey!” He bounded towards him, showing his now-filled with eggs basket. Chopper and Usopp were nowhere to be seen as the three most likely got separated. “Look, look I found a lot! Shishishi! I can’t wait to show it to Usopp. Whatcha got there?” He peered at the figure tucked under Zoro’s arm.

"Found the bunny." Zoro answered nonchalantly.

"Oh that’s great! Shishishi!" Luffy chortled. He peered down again at the navigator who is still hanging motionlessly on Zoro's arm.

"Ne, Zoro?"

"Huh?”

"Uhm... the bunny looks mad.”

"..."

“THUNDERBOLT TEMPO!”

#zoro x nami #ZoNa #zonami #zonalove #zona one-shots #zoro nami fanfiction #zona fanfiction #roronoa zoro #nami

[chaseatinydream]

pirate king (41) || atz

“Chin Hae, can you pass me the salt?”

“Coming right up!” You call over the rattle of the pans, grabbing the wooden bottle from the shelf and tossing it over your shoulder without a second glance. Seonghwa catches it easily without turning around, the two of you already so attuned with each other’s actions in the kitchen that you might as well be telepathic.

“Thanks!” He tells you and you nod, knowing that even though he can’t see it, he’ll somehow sense it anyway. The fragrance of steak and chicken marinated with spices and wild onions grilling over a charcoal fire wafts into the air and you breathe in appreciatively.

You’re almost salivating at the very thought of eating it already, the tantalizing smell lingering on in your mouth.

“Your cooking is amazing, you know that, Seonghwa-oppa?”

The cook smiles shyly, shaking his head as he prepares the stir fried vegetables in the pan, seasoning them lightly with salt. Not too much, Seonghwa always tells you, because salt has a strong taste and he wants people to appreciate the original flavour of the food. Enhance, not replace, as he likes to say.

“I did grow up intending to be a chef and cook lots of delicious food for customers.” He says wistfully, and for a moment you’re brought back to that beach on Nassau, watching Seonghwa as he chose to stay with the Treasure. Then his smile broadens gently as he puts the vegetables on a plate, hand stilling in the air for a moment. “But it’s more fulfilling to cook for people I love.”

You can’t help but beam back at him. Seonghwa is truly too sweet for this pirate life, you think as you chop up the chives finely to use as garnishing. He looks at your work proudly.

“You’ve really improved by leaps and bounds.” Seonghwa praises you, one hand ruffling your hair like a proud older brother. You laugh as he moves to the charcoal oven to take out the pieces of grilled meat, shaking your head in amusement.

“You’re not lying out of the kindness of your heart like the last time, are you?” You jibe teasingly, referring back to the time San had described your cooking to be akin to “fish innards”. Seonghwa assumes a perfectly innocent face faster than you can blink, piling slabs of perfectly grilled meat high on a tray.

“I didn’t lie. You did improve greatly… with plenty more room for improvement.”

You throw the pepper grinder at him playfully, but he catches it without blinking an eye and seasons the grilled meat to perfection. Now the food is finally done.

As if on cue, your stomach growls loudly and the door creaks opens to reveal Yunho, his head peeking in between the crack.

“Hey, hyung, is dinner ready?” He smiles that beagle like grin, hopping up and down excitedly on each foot as he sniffs the air hungrily. You swear that you had thought cooking was an easy job at first, but cooking for so many hungry men on board a pirate ship put fighting a battle to shame.

Seonghwa shakes his head good naturedly as he passes Yunho the platter of meat. “It would have been done a lot faster if you had offered to help, Yunho-ah.”

The lookout shrugs, but there’s a mischievous grin on his face that spells trouble. “I’ve got to leave you some job to do, otherwise you’d be useless on this ship, hyung.”

Seonghwa sputters in outrage and draws his meat cleaver, but Yunho ducks out into the galley stairway before the knife can find his head, the blade sinking into the wooden door instead.

“Come back here, you coward!” Seonghwa shrieks, but Yunho’s laughter only echoes down the hallway after him.

You raise a hand to your mouth to stifle your giggles, picking up the plate of vegetables and tugging lightly on his arm. “Come on, Seonghwa-oppa. Let’s go before all your steak is eaten.”

At the very horrifying thought, Seonghwa starts in fright and throws off his apron, before flying up the stairs so fast you would’ve thought the kitchen was on fire. Shaking your head in amusement, you climb the stairs after him at a more sedately pace, balancing the plate carefully in your hands.

The night air is cool upon your face as you step onto the main deck, a steady breeze tugging at your hair. You set the plate of vegetables on the deck and the crew all move forward to take their servings, thanking you one by one with smiles.

Your heart warms in your chest. You just want to stay this way forever.

“Woah, there’s chicken! And beef!” Wooyoung’s voice is right next to your ear as he glances over your shoulder at the menu for the night, clearly excited. You smile at his childlike excitement.

“You should eat before Seonghwa-oppa takes all the beef, Wooyoung-oppa.”

At your words, you see Wooyoung’s cheeks colour a little even in the dim light of the torches, making his face look rosy. He puffs out his cheeks at you.

“I know you’re just doing it to tease me, Chin Hae.” He tries to sound stern, but then an uncontrollable grin breaks through his pout. “But don’t stop doing it.”

You quirk your eyebrows playfully at him as you brush your hair out of your eyes. The wind really is very strong today. Wooyoung’s bright green eyes dart over to your hand immediately and his lips pull into a brief frown.

You’re about to ask him why the sudden change in expression when he reaches into your belt and pulls out the silver hairpin he’d given you so long ago that day in Tortuga.

“Wooyoung-oppa, what are you-” You begin to say, but then he moves behind you, gentle fingers gathering errant strands and brushing through your hair softly.

“Don’t move.” His warm voice whispers past your ear as he concentrates on twisting your hair together into some elaborate braid, tugging lightly before sliding the hairpin in to keep the knot in place. Satisfied with his work, he steps back, tucking one last strand behind your ear gently, fingers lingering there for a moment before pulling away.

You raise a hand to touch the hairdo in surprise. It’s actually very well done, a beautiful braid wrapping around itself to form a simple updo. You glance at Wooyoung in surprise, who’s smiling proudly at his creation.

“How are you so good at this, oppa?” You remark, stunned by his skill, but then you see his face fall minutely, a shadow flickering across his eyes. His smile turns a little sad, a little lost as his hands fall to his sides, the sound of the chains clanging strangely loud in your ears.

“Maybe I’ll tell you another time.” He shakes his head, but before your can press him further, there’s the strum of a guitar chord ringing through the night air. You glance behind you in surprise to see Jongho sitting there with an acoustic guitar on his lap, strumming a few random chords to warm up his fingers.

Wooyoung’s eyes light up immediately.

“Oh, they’re about to start a song!” He cheers, taking you by the arm and pulling you forward. You stumble after him as Yunho takes his place in the centre of the circle that the crew has formed, all shouting song requests to the younger battlemaster.

“They’re the battlemaster music team.” Yeosang whispers in your ear as he joins you and Wooyoung at the front, watching Yunho go around listening to the crew’s requests intently. You frown, but before you can say anything else, Jongho’s strumming suddenly picks up a lively tune.

“I can make your hands clap~”

Everyone on the ship claps in time to the beat and to your surprise, the crew all start chanting one name.

“Go Captain! Go Captain! Go Captain!”

Glancing about you, you barely spot your captain’s horrified face next to yours before Wooyoung grabs him by the arm and shoves him into the middle of the circle, the crew breaking out in a round of applause. Your captain looks around frantically with a chicken skewer hanging out of his mouth.

“Now come on guys, let’s not do this-” He begins, but then everyone starts whistling and singing along, and your captain in the end, with a defeated smile on his face, does some strange dance that looks as if he’s running on the spot, before he finishes off with an attempt at a handstand.

“You’re so cool, captain!” San screams and Hongjoong throws the skewer stick at him.

It doesn’t matter how silly he looks, because all his crew absolutely adores him and breaks out in cheers. With an embarrassed smile you’ve never seen on your captain, he hops out of the circle and pushes Mingi in instead.

You’ve never seen the silent quartermaster so energetic, because the second he steps into the circle he’s singing along and gesturing for everyone to follow him as he claps.

“I can make your hands clap!” And he can indeed, because everyone does imitate him, cheering and clapping along.

Yunho comes in with a some strange dance that involves hopping from one foot to the other while saluting, but it’s when Seonghwa is pushed into the centre of the circle, ready to dance his heart out, the music abruptly stops.

Seonghwa gives the biggest baby pout you’ve seen, and that’s almost enough to send you into fits of hysterical laughter.

There’s an awkward silence as everyone turns to stare at Jongho.

The maknae looks up from his guitar in surprise. “Ahh… sorry, I just thought one string was off key.”

But there’s a little quirk to the side of his mouth that you don’t quite believe.

The song switches up again and everyone’s back to dancing once more, Wooyoung jumping into the circle completely of his own volition, doing some “sexy” stretching that you’re laughing too hard over, shaking your head in amusement.

The night ends with Seonghwa breaking out a barrel of rum, announcing that he felt that the atmosphere was lively and they needed something to help the crew sleep.

He clearly doesn’t know his crew mates well enough.

San is doing the same ridiculous dance from before, except this time he actually managed to find two star anise herbs from the galley and put them on his chest. It fits your dream from before almost too accurately and you’re not sure if that’s a good thing.

Mingi is bawling his eyes out in a corner of the ship with a tankard of rum in hand, screaming to the skies and demanding that Hongjoong should be blessed with a better life. You smile in amusement and turn around to search for Yunho and Wooyoung, and there they are again, screaming drunken insults at each other from their respective masts.

From here you can faintly hear the same nicknames ‘Poo Young’ and ‘Yun Hoe’ drifting over the wind and an amused smile tugs at your mouth. Just as you’re considering going over to break up their argument, you feel a gentle tap on your shoulder.

Surprised, you turn around to see Yeosang standing there, holding out a tankard to you with a smile on his face.

“Drink with me?”

You’ve never really drunk any alcohol before, but you suppose there’s a first time for everything. Taking the tankard in hand, you look into it and are surprised to see a fruity juice inside instead of alcohol.

Seeing the confused look on your face, Yeosang explains. “I know you’ve never tried alcohol before, so I made a fruit juice earlier from apples and oranges and added just a little rum to it so you won’t get a hangover tomorrow.”

Your heart warms at his thoughtfulness. “Thank you, Yeosang-oppa.”

The two of you huddle together against the cold at the port side of the ship, the wood of the bulwarks shielding you from the biting winds. You lift the tankard to your lips hesitantly and take a sip, to your pleasant surprise, it tastes just like a well blended fruit juice, with just a tiny nip of alcohol to take the edge off the cold.

Yeosang has some hidden kitchen skills you’ve never known about.

The two of you sit in comfortable silence until Yeosang finally breaks it.

“So, I heard that you gave up on your memories.”

You start a little in surprise, turning to look at the navigator. You’d never told anyone on board about what the sea witch had said, merely telling them that you’d die if you regained your memories, not wanting to tell them exactly how tempted you had been to do it anyway. Fortunately, no one had asked too much about it, but that Yeosang is finally confronting it, you feel like you should give him the truth.

“I really wanted to accept it, you know?” You murmur softly as you take another sip, watching the rest of the crew fool around the deck, laughing and singing drunken songs. It’s cold, so you curl a little closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder. One of his arms comes up to encircle you, pulling you to him.

“I know.” He answers, and you know he does. Since the time the two of you had brushed death together, Yeosang can simply understand what you’re feeling like no one else, sensing the thoughts that pass your mind. You pause for a moment to sort out your thoughts.

“I thought I’d feel sad after I left the island, you know?” You whisper softly to him. You’re starting to feel a little drowsy, a warm heaviness settling over you like a thick blanket. “But I don’t regret it in the least. Not even a little.”

You can feel Yeosang’s smile more than you see it.

“I’m glad.” He says, and you know that he genuinely is. That’s the kind of man Yeosang is, pure, kind hearted, a gentle soul in every sense of the word. Your eyes close and you settle against him, basking in his warmth, feeling the buzz of alcohol in your limbs.

Yeosang hums a light tune and you feel yourself drifting off into sleep, eyes fluttering shut.

“Sometimes I get the feeling she's watching over me and other times I feel like I should go… and through it all, the rise and fall, the bodies in the streets, and when you're gone we want you all to know…”

Apparently Yeosang also has some singing skills you’ve never known about either.

Yeosang’s voice is deep and soothing, washing over your ears. You’re clinging onto his words as you slip into your dreams, hoping one day you can see Jongho and he sing together.

You brought back into consciousness by a gentle rocking motion and the feeling of warm arms around you, something hard digging into your back. The person carrying you shifts a little, adjusting himself so that you’re nestled more comfortably in his arms.

“Did I wake you up?” His voice is soft in your ears and you merely curl deeper into him, burying your face into his chest, still in that sleepy stupor. He chuckles a little as he continues moving forward, raising a leg to unlatch a door expertly with his foot.

The door to the sickbay, you realise drowsily, as the person carrying you ducks inside, careful not to knock your head on the doorframe. His boots thump softly on the floorboards, an oddly familiar jingling sound in your ears.

It’s only when he sets you down on your bed do you realise who it is.

“Wooyoung-oppa?” You ask, a little too tipsy and drowsy to think properly. A hand reaches down to your hair and he slides the hairpin out of your hairdo, placing the accessory on the bedside table.

Wooyoung smiles fondly at you for a moment, even though you can’t see it, one hand running through your hair to free it from its braid. “No, it’s the dream fairy. Go back to sleep, Chin Hae.” With one last glance over his shoulder, he stands up and turns to leave, but then something stops him.

“Don’t go.” You mumble, one hand reaching up to catch his wrist. He freezes under your touch, squeezing his eyes tight against the memories that flood his mind of scarlet lipstick, painted nails dragging down his back leaving bright red marks on his skin. Scars upon scars upon scars, bruises and kisses over the same places on his body until there is no more space for more-

No. He forces those thoughts from his mind, willing the fear built into his body to understand. You’re different. You wouldn’t hurt him… you won’t hurt him. That’s why he lets you take his hand every time you reach for it with a smile, praying that you build new, brighter memories over the dark rooms and suffocating perfume that linger in his mind, hoping that one day, he might be free.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he turns to glance at your sleeping form with a pained smile. Then he bends down, dropping a brief, chaste kiss to your forehead, before tugging the covers over you.

“It’s dangerous to say those kind of things to a man, you know.” He chides you gently, even though you’re already lost in your dreams, eyes shut, chest rising evenly with each breath. He still tells you this, even though he knows full well you’re not afraid of him in the least bit.

In fact, the one in danger of being hurt is probably him.

What are you doing to me, Chin Hae?

Wooyoung sighs in exasperation at his thoughts, shaking his head, but his thoughts turn to something darker. If even battle hardened Mingi had feared that part of him, if even Seonghwa and San couldn’t handle him, what more you? If he ever let you see the other side of him, if he scared you away… what would he do then?

“I can’t.” He whispers to himself. The words are like a weight in his chest, but they’re the truth.

He can’t ever let you see that part of him.

He sucks in a deep breath, bowing his head for a moment as he collects himself. He’s got to fight it, no matter what happens. He needs to only show you the happy, joyful Wooyoung, the Wooyoung that gave you the pin with an earnest smile, the Wooyoung that kept you safe in Nassau. He can’t let you see it. He can’t scare you away. He can’t hurt you, or he’d never forgive himself.

“I need to keep her safe.”

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #san #mingi #jongho #wooyoung #w; ot8 #w; pirate king #w; fanfiction

[midnight0stars]

Ahh! Yes! I love dom!Luxord and Luxord in general. It was a ton of fun to write this! Also went a teensey bit past my 3k word limit lol! So enjoy!

**Damsel in Distress ~ Luxord x Fem!Reader NSFW Ficlet**

Words: 3292

——————————————————

You took a deep breath of the salty tinged air, gazing out at the sea’s horizon as the setting sun glimmered almost blindingly across the water. Sand shifted under your feet with each step you took. You were searching for something, anything to help you and the others get off the island you had been abandoned on. One minute you had been with Jack Sparrow in the midst of battle, the next you had woken up and discovered that you, Sora, and the others had all been left behind.

It was a beautiful place, to be sure, but nothing could be accomplished if all of your were stuck on an island in the middle of the Caribbean. Slowing to a stop near the bottom of a cliff, you leaned your back against the smoothed out rocks. You listened to the waves crashing against the shore, the sound relaxing you as your thoughts drifted towards Luxord. The first time you had met the gambler had been in the Caribbean, well over a year ago. It had been before you had even joined forces with Sora.

He instantly had your heart, you knew the moment you locked your eyes with his piercing blue ones. There was a confident, yet genuine air about him, and even though he aligned with the Organization, you couldn’t help but be drawn to him. One chance meeting with him and the next thing you knew, you were pinned against the wall. The memory of his smirk, his eyes dancing over your flushed face before he crashed his lips against yours… Your body pulsed, making you suck in a sharp breath. It had been months since you had felt his hands on you.

You still remembered the pain that had coursed through you when you heard the news that he had been killed in battle. And you barely had time to mourn him, before you discovered that the Members of the Organization had been reborn as their Somebodies after death. Despite that, you hadn’t heard from him. If he had returned, he hadn’t felt the need to let you know about it.

Part of you wondered if he wanted nothing to do with you any longer. Perhaps he didn’t know where to find you or was trapped where he had woken up. Whatever the case, nothing prepared you for seeing him on the Black Pearl. His once blue eyes were golden, his face older and matured in a way that you were embarrassed to admit made your heart skip. You had to hold yourself back from running towards him, the others had no idea that you were involved with him. That didn’t stop the way your heart yearned for him, yearned to learn what had happened to him, to say the things you never got to share.

His eyes had lingered on yours, but he didn’t otherwise acknowledge you as he threatened and goaded the others. You stood there, frozen on the deck, as Sora summoned his blade to threaten Luxord right back. It was only then that you realized that you and Luxord were now on opposing sides. The rest of the battle had been a blur after he had disappeared and thrown the Heartless at you to deal with. You fought the enemies, taking one down after the other and aiding the others, but your mind and heart were focused elsewhere. Maybe your power over the Keyblade had been the reason Luxord never sought you out after he had returned as a Somebody.

The familiar sound of a Corridor appearing cut through your thoughts. With a gasp, you looked over, seeing none other than Luxord step out of the pulsating dark portal. You stepped forward, barely reaching out towards him, before you stopped yourself short and put your hand back down at your side.

You averted your gaze from his, clearing your throat. “I’m… surprised to see you.”

“And I, you.” He told you, walking forward and stopping in front of you. “But I can’t say I mind seeing such a beautiful face.”

You blinked, flush rushing into your cheeks as you darted your eyes back to his familiar smirk. You opened your mouth to reply, but only a scramble of sounds came out as you tried to figure out what to say. Luxord chuckled, stepping towards you. You stepped away, your back hitting the rocky cliff side as his arms pinned you there on either side.

“It has been quite a while, hasn’t it?” He asked, leaning in ever so slightly as his eyes danced over your face.

“I..” You swallowed hard, trying desperately to calm the flutters in your heart as your eyes darted between his and his lips. “I thought you were gone…” Shaking your head, you focused on his gaze, a stern look in your eyes. “Why are you still with the Organization?”

His smirk grew as he leaned closer, his lips just a scant distance from yours as he asked in return. “Why are you with the proclaimed Heroes of Light?”

“B-Because–” Your shaking voice was swallowed by his lips meeting with yours.

You whimpered as he pushed you harder against the wall, his body hot against yours. Soft sighs slipped between you, mixing with moans when his tongue pushed inside your mouth. You knew you should push him away, call everything off and tell him things had changed, but you couldn’t stop your lips from kissing him back. Gloved hands cupped your cheeks, lacing into your hair to tug your face to the side so he could nip along your neck.

“L-Luxord–” your voice trembled out his name, your hands clenching against his chest. You bit your bottom lip as he bit the nape of your neck.

“I’ve missed you, Love.” He murmured against your skin, making a moan slip past your lips. He kissed along your neck, up to your ear to continue. “Missed your soft lips against mine, your voice as I make you come undone, just–” he groaned, licking the curve of your ear, making you whine. “I have no interest in sides or morals… I will make you mine.”

You sucked in a sharp breath, your entire body throbbing from his words. It was exactly what you had yearned to hear. “W-We can’t…” You breathed out, fighting the urge to roll your hips forward. “W-What if someone sees…? We aren’t… exactly alone…”

As if to prove your point, the others started calling out your name as they searched for you. Luxord grumbled at the sound, but didn’t stop as his hands drifted down your body, making you squirm.

“Y/N!” Sora’s voice grew louder as he approached from the other side of the cliff. “Y/N! I think we found a way off the island! Where are you?”

You whimpered as Luxord grabbed your breasts, as if he wanted you to moan and let Sora know exactly where you were and to see who you were with. “L-Luxord,” you gasped, your voice in a whisper. “I-If he finds out–”

He pulled away before you could even finish the sentence and grabbed your arm. You gasped as he tugged you forward, forcing your arm behind your back, making you cry out just as Sora came around the corner and saw you.

“Y/N!” His eyes widened as he scowled and summoned his Keyblade. “Luxord, let her go!”

“How about a challenge?” Luxord smirked, pulling you closer to him, as if he were keeping you hostage. Your entire body warmed, half-heartedly trying to get away while you kept your eyes averted from Sora’s. “Save the damsel in distress before she’s taken by a dastardly pirate.”

Sora scoffed, “Are you supposed to be the pirate?”

“Perhaps.”

“Luxord, please,” you pleaded, pulling at his grasp on you just as Sora was about to run forward.

Next thing you knew, a black Corridor surrounded you and you were gone from the island entirely. You reappeared in a wooden cabin on a ship, Luxord still holding your wrist behind your back as you frantically looked around.

“Where did you just take me?” You asked, trying to turn around to face him, but his grip tightened, keeping you in place. “They’re going to be looking for me!”

“I know,” he assured you, his breath hot against your ear, making you freeze.

You took in a shark breath, biting your lip as his tongue traced the curve of your ear. “W-What are you doing…?”

He hummed, the vibration of his voice through you making you shiver. “I am enjoying my spoils.” His free hand slid along the side of your body to your chin. Gripping your face, he turned your gaze to him over your shoulder. “You’re my hostage, Love.”

A warmth spread through your entire body as you whisked your face out of his grasp. “I-I am no such thing.”

He chuckled, kissing your hair, “I’ve taken you. And you are on my ship… “ His hand slid down your neck to your breast. “In my quarters… I can do whatever I wish to you.”

You whimpered, your eyes sliding shut with a gasp as he kneaded your breast in his palm. There was no denying that you wanted his touch, you wanted him to take you however he pleased. The worry about the others searching for you faded with each roll of your nipple between his fingers. His lips meeting with your neck, sucking and licking your most sensitive places, they lessened your resolve and tightened that coil of anticipation and lust in your gut.

“Go to the bed…” He murmured in your ear, smirking as you nodded.

Your eyes fluttered open, focusing on the large bed in the corner of the cabin. His grip on you lightened as you went towards it by his command. You weren’t sure what he had planned for you and there were dozens of alarms trilling in the back of your mind that you should run… but you couldn’t deny the want inside of you. You wanted his hands all over your body again, you wanted his lips trailing every inch of you, lavishing you like he used to.

You could give in, just this once… right?

“Lay down,” he ordered, but not with a forceful tone.

You nodded, unable to find any proper words in response. The comforter sank under your weight, framing your body as you laid down. You took in a shaking breath, your entire body flushed and warmed as Luxord stood at the edge of the bed, taking off his coat and looking you over with that same smirk of his.

“W-What,” you asked, your voice shaking and soft.

“You’re more beautiful than I remember.” He told you as he climbed over you.

You opened your mouth to reply, but the words choked in your throat. The blush deepened further on your cheeks as you averted your gaze. He chuckled, leaning forward and kissing along your neck, making you softly moan. You felt his hands grip your wrists, before he pulled them above your head.

“What are you…” Your voice trailed off once your felt a rope being tied around you. “L-Luxord!” You squeaked, looking up to see him binding you with a white rope.

“You’re my hostage.” He reminded you with a quirked up brow matching his smirk. “I will lavish you as I please.”

The connotations of his words were enough cause a certain spot between your legs to throb, making you squeeze your legs together. His smirk grew, knowing exactly what he was doing to you as you averted your gaze, warming further by the second. Once you were tied up, his hands trailed down your arms. His touch was deliberate, soft, barely grazing his fingertips along your skin and making you shiver. Leaning forward, he kissed along your jaw, allowing your lips to be free so you could gasp and sigh in response to him having his way with you.

Warm, familiar hands snaked under your shirt, making you arch your back into his touch. You couldn’t remember the last time you had been touched by him, and even the slightest movement was exhilarating. The fabric of your shirt was pushed up, revealing your soft, flushed skin. You could barely handle watching his eyes dance over you as he traced his fingertips over every bare inch of you. Reaching your bra, he pulled it up with one swift motion, humming as your breasts bounced out of its confinement. He darted his eyes up to yours when your breath hitched, keeping the contact as he leaned forward and trailed his tongue along your nipple.

You bit your lip, whining and bucking your hips into the air from the pulse of pleasure. His hand took in your other breast, twisting and teasing your nipple in tandem with his tongue, while his other hand trailed lower.

His fingertips ghosted between your legs, just barely enough pressure for you to feel. Your voice cracked, your head slinging back as you rolled your hips, desperate for more. He hummed against your breast, pressing his tongue harder against your nipple, before pulling off and sitting up.

He undid your pants with ease, hooking his fingers in the belt loops and pulling them off your legs. Your already flushed body throbbed under his gaze. A thin piece of fabric was all that kept you from being completely naked for him to see. It had been months since he had last seen you bare for him, and you often wondered if he ever would again. But there you were, tied to his bed, his hostage to do with however he pleased. The thought alone made you whimper with a mixture of embarrassment and anticipation.

His hands slid along your thighs, a chuckle rumbled through his chest with each subconscious roll of your hips into the air. He traced along the hem of your panties, his eyes hungrily taking you in as you squirmed and whined under his touch. At his pace, it would be hours until he let you come.

“P-Please…” you whispered, looking away when he brought his eyes to yours.

He smirked, slipping his fingers between your legs and ever so gently tracing circles over the fabric of your panties. You groaned, slinging your head back and pulling at your binds. It was thrilling, yet it wasn’t nearly enough. He hummed, feeling how wet you were, even through your underwear.

“You missed me as well, didn’t you?” He asked, quirking up an eyebrow when you darted your eyes to him for a moment before looking away again.

“Maybe…” You admitted, your breath hitching as his fingers pressed harder between your legs. “Y-Yes!” You moaned, “Yes I did.”

Grabbing the sides of your panties, he slid them off your legs, allowing his gaze to settle on your soaking folds. He pushed your knees apart, so he could freely look you over. You couldn’t keep your gaze on him as his eyes roved over you. Instead, you focused on the window, seeing the gorgeous ocean horizon just outside.

What a perfect setting to be lavished in.

Your admiration was cut short as a pair of fingers slid inside of you. A guttural moan came up your throat, your back arching as Luxord simply watched with a smirk. He pushed further inside of you, twisting his fingers and watching you gasp out his name.

“This is what I missed the most.” He told you, his thumb slicking across your clit, making you cry out. “Watching you slowly become undone.” He pushed harder inside of you, “It’s as if time itself stands still in these moments.”

Despite his poetry, you could barely register his words as he worked you up. Your legs wrapped around his back, your hands pulling at the binds as you wished for more. You wanted him inside of you, sliding in and out as both of you neared that climax. His short breaths and the way your name spilled from his lips as he came, the thought alone made you moan and cry out.

“Luxord, please!” You begged, done with waiting.

He chuckled, leaning down and flicking his tongue between your folds. Your voice grew, your back arching completely off the bed as his tongue swirled. He pushed his fingers in and out of you as he buried his head between your legs. Your chest heaved, your eyes shut as you moaned out his name, rolling your hips against his mouth. All your inhibitions had vanished, and all you could fathom was the way your gut coiled with pleasure, ready to snap at any moment.

Everything suddenly ceased, his fingers slipped out of you, his tongue and lips nowhere near your folds. Fluttering your eyes open, you met your eyes with his, seeing his heaving chest and the sheen of your pleasure across his chin as he worked at his undoing his pants.

Finally.

You pulled at your binds, wishing you could undo them for him, to take his shaft into your own mouth and show him what he had been doing to you. Instead, you could only helplessly watch as he tossed away his pants and undergarments. His cock twitched under your stare, precum dripping from its head as he climbed back over you.

He stopped at your entrance, barely pushing in as he leaned down and captured your lips with his. You could taste your pleasure on his tongue, the sweet, yet bitter taste of it making you groan in his mouth.

A sharp moan slipped out of you, breaking your lip lock as he delved inside of you. It was a sensation you had dearly missed. The way he stretched and filled your perfectly, hitting that perfect spot without even needing to try. Your head slung back, giving him the perfect angle to kiss and suckle your neck as he grinded his hips against you.

“L-Luxord,” you gasped out his name, meeting your hips with his, desperately trying to push him deeper.

He groaned, his pace quickening as he pushed harder and harder inside of you. The bed rocked, the wooden floor creaking with each meeting of your hips. Your voice filled the room, mixing with his as he freely moaned against your neck.

With a snap of his hips, your coil broke free. You cried out his name, your fingers digging into the rope around your wrists as your body tensed. It was unlike anything you had ever experienced, even during your past with him. Everything seemed to explode into fireworks of pure pleasure, as your legs wrapped tightly around his hips so you could force him even deeper.

He wasn’t far behind, your name spilled from his lips again and again, until he let out a trembling moan. His hips jerked forward, his arms shaking as he came. You leaned your body up as much as you could manage, kissing his jaw and neck, anywhere you could reach. As he came down from his climax, he peppered kissed to your neck as well. His body falling limp over you.

Your chest raised and lowered together, both of you struggling to catch your breaths as the waves of your shared orgasm pulled through you. His hands went to your wrists, untying the binds and allowing you to wrap your arms around him.

“I–” you swallowed, trying to take in a full breath, “I really did miss you…”

He hummed, kissing your neck. “As did I, Love.”

A sudden rock of the ship, caused both of you to snap out of your tranquil haze. It was something hitting the boat…You looked to Luxord with widened eyes, sitting up and about to ask him what it could be, before it hit you.

It was your rescuers.

#Luxord #Kingdom Hearts Smut

[mc-lukanette]

Grade for Each Other (Part 4)

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

Juleka looked up at Luka as he crossed the gangplank to step onto the ship. She'd made a confused comment about his big grin and the skip in his step, but he was casual about it and told her that he was simply having a good day.

It wasn't a lie. He'd just thought it best to avoid the subject of what exactly had transpired, given what Marinette had told him. He trusted his sister, but he knew where her weaknesses were; she had a lot of anxiety and easily folded under pressure. It thrilled him that Juleka had friends of her own, but some tended to be pushy (he was too polite to voice names but he definitely thought names), and he wasn't burdening Juleka with any sort of knowledge when Marinette was perfectly happy as things currently were. The last thing either needed was something stirred up.

Thus, he passed by Juleka with a calm shrug over her question on how he was meant to be out with his friends by this point. Walking across the deck, he passed by the cabin, where Anarka was leaning on the helm of the boat.

"What's got your sails out, son?"

He glanced up at her, knowing that she wouldn't as easily let it slide. Grinning, he replied, "New member in the crew."

Her brows raised, either in interest or suspicion. "...A co-captain?"

Luka held back an "I wish" and instead shook his head. Regardless of how much of a crescendo he was riding, he wasn't dating Marinette or anything.

He walked on, heading downstairs to go below the deck. There was a song in his heart, urging him to move faster, but he tried to contain it. He let the notes build and develop as he slipped into his room, his fingers finally touching the neck of his guitar.

And then his phone went off.

Luka's mouth turned to a thin line, Claudine's ringtone almost seeming to taunt him. Silently, he wished he'd just played the guitar that he'd grabbed at the music store when he was with Marinette.

Pulling out his phone, he accepted the call and held it to his ear, taking a seat on his bed to get comfortable. "Hi, Cee."

"Hey—" She paused. "...I almost didn't get that."

He could hear a shuffling noise, followed by the sound of a high C note on a flute.

"So, how was your walk home, Couffaine?"

He snorted. "I thought you'd forgotten about me."

"You know I didn't." He could imagine her innocent shrug. "Does that mean you had fun with your melody?"

"Not my melody," he reminded her.

"Sounds like she's definitely some melody though, considering that you haven't played her out yet."

He blinked, wondering how she could've known. "What?"

The smirk was evident in her voice. "You've been tapping a tune on the back of your phone."

Luka stiffened, realizing the position of his fingers on his phone. He pulled the phone away, then switched the hand it was in so he could tap at his leg instead. It was a much quieter sound at least.

"Anyway, you didn't answer my question," she pointed out. "How was the walk?"

He frowned, not because she was prodding for details, but because said walk involved Marinette becoming upset. It wasn't entirely bad, but there was little he could tell her.

"It was... a lot," he replied simply.

She hummed. "A lot? So the usual for you then, at least whenever you're around her?"

He didn't respond even though she was right. Debating with himself for a moment, he then spoke with a hint of caution to his voice. "Look, Claudine, about you guys leaving me and Marinette alone—"

"Spare me." she interrupted with a snort. "You've played that tune way too many times. You don't want to pressure her, she likes someone else, you're an angel sent from heaven above who's too nice to pursue her in anyway, blah blah blah."

He hunched forward, brows furrowed as he tried to sound more stern. "Claudine—"

"Luka." There was a sound in the background to imply that she'd sat down on a thick chair of some kind. "Look. You're a sweet guy and I think that's great, but the girl you love skipped two grades and ended up in your class by pure coincidence. You're just going to pass that up?"

He sighed. "A good song'll never come together if I force it."

"And a good song will never come together if you don't try," she argued, sounding exasperated.

Luka opened his mouth to disagree, but found himself at a loss for words, instead biting his lower lip.

A few seconds passed, probably as Claudine gave him a moment to respond if he had anything to say. When he didn't, she let out a calm breath and continued, "There's nothing wrong with walking someone home. It doesn't have to be romantic, right?"

"If it makes her uncomfortable—"

"Did it?"

He was immediately reminded of Marinette hugging him from behind, causing him to blush. "...No."

"Then what's the problem? And hey, if she's in love with some other guy, what if you're better for her?"

"I'm not the one who makes her happy."

"Oh yeah, I'm sure the fond eyes she gives you are just for show," Claudine joked. "I'm just saying, what if this guy's gonna end up making her miserable?"

He briefly cringed at the memory of going to the ice rink with Marinette, Adrien, and Kagami.

"I'm not telling you to get down on one knee and propose - even though I'm sure you're there emotionally anyway - but how about you just let yourself be happy for once without worrying about all the conditions you've gotta add onto that? You're not pursuing her, but you're just letting her know that... what's the phrase? That there's many fish at the sushi bar?"

"You've been hanging around Mito too much."

"My point is, you're not doing anything wrong by letting her know how you feel. You're not getting into her space and you're not forcing anything on her. You're just hanging out like friends do, and so what if you happen to be alone?"

He managed a smile. "Happen to be? You three left us alone. I'm starting to think that you're just doing it to see my reactions."

"It's a bonus," she shamelessly admitted. "Anyway, consider it. I'll let you get back to your Mari Melody now."

He let her have that one. "Thanks."

The phone clicked, Luka pulling it away to stare at the screen momentarily. He exhaled, then set it aside and went for his guitar again, plugging it into his amp before settling down on his bed.

He'd just gotten his guitar into his lap when his phone went off yet again. Luka was starting to believe that fate was thoroughly against him at this point, but then he noticed that it was at least Marinette this time, and only a text message. Happy, though slightly concerned that she was slipping back into her solemn mood during their walk, he picked his phone back up and navigated to their messages.

Oh my gosh! I just realized that I have NO idea what I'm going to do about studying! New school, new lessons, and I'm not prepared at all!

Do you study???

Not that I'm implying you don't or that you don't care about it, but some people don't need to or are comfortable where their grades are, you know?

He smiled, able to read how much her mind was moving faster than her fingers just by how quickly the messages had come in. He leaned back against the wall, his forearm resting on the body of his guitar as he watched more messages pour in.

I'm just asking because maybe we could study together? Like a study date?

NOT LIKE, A DATE DATE.

Especially if you bring your friends which would be totally okay! I don't know them well yet, but they're really nice so far!

Or maybe THEY don't study so it would just be you and me then?

BUT NOT A STUDY DATE.

IT'S JUST A DATE

ON THE CALENDAR

WHERE WE'D STUDY.

SO NOT A STUDY DATE DATE.

YEAH?

He chuckled. The sacrifice of not being able to play yet was well worth it to see that she was back to normal again.

He went to respond, but stopped as he saw that she was still typing. The typing bubble seemed to be going through a pattern of appearing, disappearing, and then reappearing. He waited until, finally, the last message popped up.

I mean, unless you want it to be...?

His mouth dropped open. The only thing saving his phone from falling onto the bed, given the sudden slack in his fingers, was the angle of his palm. He reread the message a few times, just to make sure he wasn't reading it wrong, then averted his gaze to the amp that he had plugged his guitar into earlier.

It suddenly looked incredibly small and pathetic.

After what may've been a full minute of just sitting there, Luka set the phone aside and got up. Securing his guitar to his back, he unplugged it from the amp and turned to walk out of his room. He went up the stairs and back to the cabin, where Anarka was still idling.

"Mom, can I borrow your amp?"

"Atta boy!"

[Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10]

#multi chapter: Grade for Each Other #((A ''bonus'' chapter of sorts~))

[alderaani]

hullo pls could you maybe do from the prompt list 'Staying up half the night to finish a game with them.' with jesse? or echo, i love them both very much so whoever you'd rather write would be just fantastic (: 💕

thanks Emma!!!! anything for u 💕 i’m gonna go with jesse for this one, though i’m desperate to write for my boy echo in the near future. (i am very quickly learning i can’t keep these brief to save my life, oops)

pairing is jesse x reader:

“Heard you landed your ass in here again, idiot.”

It comes out harsher than you mean, but the rush of anger-joy-relief that floods through you when you see Jesse propped up in bed, awake and laughing with one of his brothers, is like a battering ram. You put out one hand to steady yourself against the doorframe and blink, startled by the way your eyes are stinging.

“If only he’d actually landed on his ass,” Hardcase laughs. He’s lounging on the end of the bed in the bottom half of his armour, legs crossed in front of him. “Di’kut went down on his head instead.”

“Thanks, ‘Case,” Jesse sighs, before looking at you sheepishly. “I was goin’ to comm you.”

You sniff in distain and push into the room proper. “What, in three to five business days? I had to find out from one of the mechanics, Jesse.”

Jesse scowls and you feel your eyes sting again at just how small he looks against the sheets. The white bandages on his chest and wrapped around his skull are stark against the rich brown of his skin. You don’t think you have really breathed in the last three days, not since contact with Torrent went down and it suddenly hit you that you might never get to speak to him again.

“How is this my fault? I was karking unconscious and you’re going to hold that against me?”

“Well,” Hardcase says, eyes darting between the pair of you. He shoves himself off the bed, clapping a hand on Jesse’s blanketed leg. “Sounds like my cue to check out. The boys are settin’ up a round of sabacc in the barracks, don’t wanna hold ‘em up.”

You wave absently to him as he leaves, not taking your eyes off of Jesse’s as your chest fills with fire. You open your mouth to snap back, but the pure weariness that flashes across Jesse’s face sinks in like a knife between your ribs and suddenly you’re just tired.

You collapse into the vacant chair beside his bed and put your face in your hands.

“Kriff, Jess, I’m sorry.” You huff out a little laugh. “I came here to cheer you up, believe it or not.”

Looking up, you’re in time to see Jesse’s face soften. He reaches out and knocks his fist gently against your temple.

“Bold strategy you’re usin’.”

You swallow tightly and keep your eyes on the blankets when you make your next admission, choking the words out. “I didn’t mean to get mad. You just really fuckin’ scared me this time.”

Jesse chuckles weakly. “Think I scared myself. I…I really thought that was it, for a moment.”

You breathe out, long and slow, and try to push away the could-have-beens. He’s here, he’s whole, and he’s alive. Each one of those things is its own blessing. Some part of you still feels like it’s stuck in the awful silence of your comm station as you typed in code after code and prayed, unable to reach any of them and only being able to think about Jesse. His laugh, the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, the way it makes your stomach tie itself into knots, and the ache in your gut when you thought you’d lost the chance to tell him any of it.

You’re used to being haunted by thoughts of him, but now all your memories have a slightly bitter edge, soured by the possibility that they’d almost been all you had. It’s harder than you expected to let that go, even if you’ve always known you might have to.

“I’m damn glad it wasn’t,” is what you get out eventually. “This place’d be boring without you.”

Jesse quirks a smile. You just want to hold on to him, kiss that smile straight off his stupid face, and can’t bring yourself to care that you’re staring. “Maker, I know, I’m bored already and I’m only stuck in the medbay. What’ve you got for me?”

You reach into the bag at your feet and pull out a card deck and a bottle of blumfruit juice. “I couldn’t bring the boys, but at least I’ve brought the cards, right?”

The way that Jesse’s whole face lights up makes the knot in your chest loosen. You dig around a bit more and pull out Jesse’s razor kit – there’s a fine layer of visible stubble growing on the unbandaged bits of his head. Aside from his huge Republic cog tattoo and the fact the stubble’s dark, he’s starting to look eerily like Rex.

“I thought you might want these tomorrow, too, I cleared them with Coric so I won’t accidentally land you in trouble.”

Jesse tilts his head a little bit and just watches you. You fight the urge to fidget and place the razor kit on the edge of the blanket; it’s hard not to shrug this off like you have a hundred times before, but you made a promise to yourself when you’d heard he’d come back alive. You won’t hide how you feel any more, and he can do what he likes with it. At least you will have given him the choice.

“You went and got these for me?” he asks eventually, his gaze pointed and calculating. You expected it – there’s a reason he’s on the Captain’s core squad – but it still makes you feel naked.

“You always bitch when your hair starts growing in,” You smile. Jesse’s expression clears, but whatever conclusion he’s come to he keeps to himself. He puts the razor on the side table and grins at you.

“The stubble itches. Now are you gonna deal us in, or what?”

You’re halfway through your first hand before you realise something crucial is missing from the set.

“Kriff, I forgot my betting chips! Sorry Jess, I can run back and get them if you like.”

Jesse picks up the bottle of blumfruit juice and gulps a mouthful, his mouth stained slightly red.

“I think I’ve got a better idea. Much more fun if we bet favours, right?”

His expression is far too innocent. You narrow your eyes at him as you accept the bottle and bring it to your lips. “What kind of favours?”

He shrugs. “Just little things. Ship duties, stuff you’ve always wanted to know…that kind of thing. I know you’ve always wanted to get back at Fives for what happened on Orto Plutonia.”

You lick your lips slowly. It’s a tempting proposition, which is dangerous for someone who is so thoroughly shit at sabacc, and for someone who’s opponent knows it.

“…Alright. But we’ve got to agree on the favour before it enters the pool.”

Jesse’s grin is sharklike. “Deal.”

Over the course of the next three hours you lose your mess hall slot, have to tell Jesse the story of how you ended up locked in the communal showers for three hours, and owe him two whole bottles of his favourite Alderaanian spirit.

In return, all you have managed to swindle is that payback on Fives, so when Jesse suggests one more round at 0300, you’re hesitant. You’re pretty sure you’re in love with him, but you still have a little dignity.

“Aw, come on. Where’s the honour in givin’ in?” Jesse grins.

“There’s no honour in marching blindly to defeat, either,” you counter, gathering up the sabacc cards to shuffle anyway. Besides, if you yawn any more you think your soul might escape your body.

“Maybe not, but I think you’ll like what I’ve got in mind.”

His face is oddly serious, and it piques your interest. Before you can stop yourself, you’re nodding and dealing out the cards again, fighting for composure when you lift yours and see the brilliant pair you’ve picked up.

“Fine, one more round. If I win you have to cover my next shift stocking ordnance,” you say quickly.

Jesse swallows, his honey brown eyes boring into you. “Sure. But if I win, I get a kiss.”

Faintly, you think someone must have opened an airlock somewhere, because you can’t breathe. You hear your lungs suck in, see the way Jesse leans a little towards you, the expression on his face almost hungry. There’s a faint ringing in your ears as you nod eagerly, your palms sweating.

What follows is possibly the longest 30 minutes of your life. It figures, really, that the one game of sabacc you desperately want to lose is the one you can’t seem to not win. When the match is up you scowl at the perfect score of 23 in your hand and toss it down onto the bed covers.

“Sorry Jesse, read ‘em and weep. I’ve got pure sabacc.”

Jesse leans over to read, but instead of looking as annoyed as you feel, he just smirks.

“Now now, cyar’ika, don’t be hasty. Let me present to you: the Idiot’s Array.”

You lean forward before you can stop yourself. “No fucking way.”

The rarest hand in the game? You’ve gotta see that.

Jesse smugly spreads out his cards. You smack him. “That’s not the Idiot’s Array!”

“It is too.”

“Then where’s the Idiot Card, genius?”

Without pausing, Jesse lifts his hands and points two thumbs at himself, grinning at you. “Right here, darlin’.”

You laugh, heat creeping up through your cheeks to the tips of your ears. You slide onto the bed and place your palms either side of Jesse’s legs, your pulse thundering under the heat of his eyes.

“Guess I owe you a kiss, then.”

Jesse’s hand sneaks up to cup the back of your neck. “Yeah. Guess you do.”

#clone trooper jesse #clone trooper jesse x reader #arc trooper jesse #arc trooper jesse x reader #the clone wars #star wars #alderwrites #hmmm i'm really not sure if i'm happy with this one but #here she is

[notchesandbullets]

Ryokuryuu’s Lifeline

Part 2: Unresolved Fury From the Past

Read Part 1: Here

Jae-ha had situated the two of you behind one of the trees, giving you a clear view of the setting sun from the cliff side. You stayed tangled together for a while, until your eyelids started to feel heavy. Surrounded by Jae-ha's warmth, it was all too easy to fall asleep. But even still, you fought silently against the urge to drift off into unconsciousness.

As you squirmed in his arms fighting your silent battle, Jae-ha gently rubbed your skin soothingly, looking down at you in concern. Blinking your eyes open slowly, you focused in on the frown that had settled on his face.

"I'm sorry..." You apologized quietly, hiding your face in your hands.

Jae-ha shook his head quickly, expression echoing disbelief but before he could say anything, Yona burst through the trees, hands tightly pressed  to her chest as she ran. Your eyes snapped open and you were up on your feet in an instant, startling the princess as she nearly knocked you over.

"Y/N!" She exclaimed in surprise, turning her attention to the green dragon as he stepped up behind you. "Jae-ha!"

"Hello, Yona dear." He replied with a signature smirk on his face. "What are you running away from?"

"N-Nothing!" Yona denied hurriedly. You raised an eyebrow at her, and she turned her face away but you caught a glimpse of it. She was blushing.

Actually, that was an understatement.

Her entire face was bright red, and you had a feeling that it wasn't just from running.

"Girl time!" You announced loudly, taking Yona's hand, not hesitating as you felt something sticky and pulled her towards the path leading back to the ship. Jae-ha moved to follow the two of you, but you stopped him. "Whoa there, big guy. Girls only."

You grinned cheekily at him as towered over you with his broad frame.

"You beautiful ladies need protection, and I am inclined to provide it." He said charmingly, flipping his green ponytail over his shoulder. Yona refused to look at either of you at this point, and Jae-ha didn't miss the way you stiffened at his words.

Meeting his gaze, you offered him a small smile, but Jae-ha didn't feel all that reassured as he felt the guilt creep in.

"Later," You mouthed to him, pressing two fingers to the inside of his wrist in assurance.

Jae-ha relaxed slightly.

You were okay.

But that didn't ease his guilt.

As you and Yona continued in the direction of the docks, Jae-ha kept his eye on both of you until you disappeared from his sight. He thought about following you, but you probably wouldn't be too happy about it when you found out.

Her safety is worth the consequence. He decided, readying  himself to spring up into the air.

Then a very distressed Hak came exploding from the thicket, causing Jae-ha to very nearly jump out of his skin. The Thunder Beast and the Ryokuryuu stared at each other in silence for several moments.

Then Hak groaned, tossing his weapon down to the ground and sliding down the trunk of the tree behind him. His head lolled back, landing on the bark with a resounding 'thump'.

Jae-ha strolled over to the visibly conflicted ex-general, standing adjacent to him against the tree.

"Go away Droopy-Eyes." Hak's voice was muffled by his hand, the other running through his tousled hair.

The green dragon looked up at the sky, slyly smirking. "Did something happen between you and Yona dear?" He teased.

Hak growled, "You're asking for it." He threatened darkly, slapping a hand against his head incredulously as Jae-ha grinned knowingly, spinning around on his heel to face him, robes fluttering.

"What did you do?" Jae-ha pressed, leaning forward. "Yona dear looked so embarrassed. Though, she looked so cute like that, all fluster-"

He raised his right leg to block Hak's strike as he brought down his spear, preventing the Thunder Beast from doing any real damage.

"Ah..." Jae-ha sighed, "Careful, if you don't make a move on her soon, I just might."

Hak froze.

Then, Jae-ha held up his hand, a smug grin on his face.

"Kidding."

The teasing smirk faded as he identified the pain flickering across the man's face.

"I'm sorry for hurting her." Jae-ha looked carefully at the Thunder Beast whose eyes were downcast, as if he couldn't believe that he had hurt you.

Jae-ha's jaw hardened as he recalled the blood that marred your face and didn't respond.

They sat in silence for a moment before Hak broke it. "What happened to Y/N?"

The green dragon's face quickly became guarded. "What do you mean?"

Hak almost smiled at Jae-ha's protective streak, but the Thunder Beast had noticed your quiet resolve to fight, he just didn't know why. You were never like that back at the palace. You were just as childish as the princess at the time, not aware of the world outside the castle walls. By being sheltered for so many years, Hak was worried when he noticed your childish streak was not quite the same as it was before.

You had grown up.

But there was more to it than that, wasn't there?

"Y/N is different than I remember." Hak explained carefully, not wanting to unintentionally evoke the wrath of the dragon. "I expected that much, but it seems as though she's been through some difficult times."

Jae-ha exhaled heavily. "That's an understatement." He muttered. Hak shot him a curious glance.

The Ryokuryuu settled on the ground across from the Thunder Beast, leaning back on his hands. His green fringe almost covered his eyes, but Hak could distinguish the unresolved fury barely restrained beneath.

"I don't know everything that has happened." Jae-ha started, brushing hair from his eyes to study Hak closely. "I don't think she fully knows what happened either."

Steel glinted dangerously in the moonlight as Hak's grip tightened on his spear.

How bad was it that you unconsciously blocked it from your memory?

After a heavy pause, Jae-ha continued, "I don't know how she got to Awa, I was the one to find her. She was chained to a back alley on the far side of town, near the forest."

Hak's eyes widened in shock.

"I had been scouting the area, I had just recently joined Captain Gi-gan's crew back then, and was trying to prove myself and be useful." He gritted his teeth. "When I first found her, huddled in a ball on the corner of an alleyway, dressed in almost nothing, I ran away."

Jae-ha left out the part where the reason for that was because he was so traumatized at such a familiar sight that he couldn't take it, so he fled.

The Thunder Beast didn't need to know that.

Jae-ha leaned forward, resting his arms on his criss-crossed legs. "I didn't get more than a few feet away before I went back as fast as I could." He shook his head. "I broke her chains with my leg and brought her to the captain. She's been with us ever since."

Hak fixated on the grass on the ground, deep in thought. "Is that why you're so set on taking down Yang Kum-ji?"

A scoff came from the green dragon in front of him. "He needs to be taken down." Jae-ha sneered, violet eyes akin with fire. "The fact that he was most likely the one who allowed her to be treated like that goes against my views of beauty."

The inferno blazed.

"He's not walking away from this alive."

Hak jaw locked. "I want to help."

Jae-ha shot him a familiar charismatic smirk. "You are already going to be."

He straightened when Hak shook his head in response, cobalt eyes flashing with fury. "I want to kill him." He snarled.

Hak looked up at the slightly confused Ryokuryuu. "Growing up, she looked out for me at the castle. She was so much like the princess; innocent but precious. I'm going to kill whoever touched her."

Jae-ha's mouth pressed in a thin line. "I'm sure not sure she would appreciate the gesture, but either way, that's my job."

"Hey!" Hak interjected as Jae-ha stood up. "Wha-"

"It's my job to keep her safe." Jae-ha interrupted. "Just like you protect Yona."

The Thunder Beast's mouth snapped shut at that.

"I love her." Jae-ha admitted, no hint of his usual sarcasm or teasing. "She is for me, what Yona is for you. She's my entire world."

His eyes shone with whirling fear and fierce determination. "Let me protect her."

Hak looked down, before nodding reluctantly. Jae-ha started to walk away.

"But," He heard Hak remark, halting him in his tracks. "I'll help, in any way that I can."

Jae-ha dipped his head in acknowledgement. "I know." He studied the former general. "I'll look out for Yona too."

He heard Hak whisper a 'thank you' under his breath, and he grinned. "Of course, I can always ask Yona dear if she needs help with other things..."

Jae-ha sidestepped the blade as Hak swung his spear at him, easy laughter echoing in the night as an infuriated Thunder Beast chased him all the way back to the docks.

///

You arrived with Yona on the bustling ship, alive with the pirates' excited chatter. Yoon was in the center of it all, having whipped up dinner for the hungry crew.

Quickly pulling Yona behind you, you led her to your room below the deck. As you closed the door, you noticed the princess relaxed a bit. You grabbed some water and bandages from off the table on the far side, making your way back to Yona who was shuffling her feet awkwardly in the center of the room.

"Come sit," You called, patting to your side as you situated yourself on the bed. "I don't bite."

Your grin put Yona at ease and she sat down beside you. "I'm sorry about your father..."

You saw her stiffen from the corner of your eye. You gazed at her sympathetically, but Yona wouldn't meet your gaze as she trained in on her hands resting in her lap.

"Before we made it to Awa, we passed through an abandoned Fire Tribe village."

You looked up at her in surprise and then closed your eyes in sadness, already knowing where this was going.

She told you about the state it was in, and that the people left behind were dying. Yona was silent after she finished, and you could only imagine the suffering she had gone through when she left the castle and finally learned about the reality her kingdom was in.

You gently inspected her hands, taking notice of the many scratches and dripping honey on it. Gesturing for her to let you see them, you raised your eyebrow questioningly, "Do you want to talk about what happened? I'm assuming Hak played a part in this." You said, pointing out the amber liquid.

Yona sighed shakily. "He said it would help take the thorns out."

You nodded as you dipped her hands in the water, noticing her wince as you cleaned the cuts. "That's true." You mused.

The princess' eyes squeezed shut. "Then..." You looked up. "It started to overflow..."

You narrowed your eyes, beginning to bandage her hands.

"What happened?" You inquired after she failed to continue for a few beats.

Yona hesitated, an unknown emotion flickering across her delicate features. "....H-He l-licked it off..."

Staring at her in shock, silence enveloped the two of you until you couldn't hold it back anymore. You laughed heartily, clutching your sides as you rolled back in your bed.

"Y/N!" Yona cried out, "It's not funny! He's always teasing me, and making me feel-"

"What?" You paused your laughter as you inspected her closely. "Making you feel what exactly?

Her purple eyes darted around in confusion. "I-I don't know..."

You softly encouraged, "Try to describe it."

The princess drew her bandaged hands tightly to her chest, bringing her knees up to rest her chin on. The sight before you was nostalgic as you remembered how Yona used to do this years ago when she was scared.

Even back then, Hak was always the one to look out for his princess above all else.

"My h-heart," Yona mumbled, sniffling, "It hurts when h-he does things like that. W-when he teases me, it beats really fast, and I feel like I-I might c-cry when he pulls a-away..."

You watched as she burst into tears, hiding her face in her hands as her small body racked with sobs.

Gathering her in your arms, you patted her head soothingly, the other going to rub her back comfortingly until she eventually quieted.

"Yona," You spoke softly as you pulled back, looking her in the eye. "I know you're scared by what you're feeling," A finger came up to wipe away the tears on her cheeks. "Do you want to know what it is?"

The princess didn't miss the underlying warning. There was a chance she wouldn't like what she would hear, but Yona braced herself and nodded.

You smiled comfortingly, "Know that even with what I say next, it's up to you to decide what you want to do with it, okay? You can choose to acknowledge it or not, both have its own set of consequences." After receiving another dip of the head from the trembling girl across from you, you started.

"Your heart beats faster, right? Almost like it has a mind of its own when you're with him and you can't control it.You feel especially emotional, sometimes you can't even explain it. It's like you're drawn to their side without reason, and you want to protect them and see them happy."

Yona looked at you in wonder.

Looking closely at the princess who had opened her eyes in realization, you finished, "You don't feel this way around anyone else, like you feel incredibly sick if you envision the future without them and it's baffling. Am I right?"

"...How?" Yona asked, uncertainty lingering in the depths of her eyes.

You placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "It's how I feel around Jae-ha." A blush made its way onto your cheeks, and you resisted the urge to cover your face. "He makes me feel safe around him. I love him."

Yona froze. "You, love him?"

You nodded. "I do." You whispered.

"But that's not," Yona stumbled over her words. "You, he... That's not... Hak couldn't possibly..."

You shook your head, ignoring her earlier words, chalking it up to astonishment at all the information you had just revealed to her. "It's not whether he does or doesn't, those feelings usually indicate something deeper than just friendship is all I meant. For me, I know what they are. For you, how much you acknowledge it will determine how much of it you allow to be true."

Leaning back on your hands, you studied the princess who began to fiddle with her hands. "And if anything, I think he does feel that way about you." You said softly. Yona's head shot up, bewilderment crossing her face. "But you'll only ever know for sure if you talk to him about it."

The worn look in her eyes made you pause.

"There's more to this, isn't there?"

That was all the prompting Yona needed.

She told you about that night in Hiryuu Castle, her father's murder, Soo-won's betrayal, her feelings for him and how she was starting to realize for what she felt for Hak. She explained her quest and how she met her new friends and what the priest said was going to happen to Hak if she didn't. Yona even broke to you the death of the young boy as her reason for partaking in the upcoming mission to take down Yang Kum-ji. The rumors that had circulated painted Hak as the king's murderer, but you knew he would never do that. He was far too loyal to King Il, and Yona. You were shocked to find out that Soo-won was behind this, he was such a sweet kid growing up, but you concealed it well for Yona's sake.

You clenched your fists, curling the sheets on your bed tightly in your hands. "The officers killed the boy?"

Yona nodded, the regret and guilt in her eyes mirrored your own.

"I want to fight with you."

You looked directly at her, eyes widening in astonishment as you saw foreign fire simmering in a sea of violet. The once young, innocent and ignorant princess you remembered was no more. In her place was a girl who had the heart of a warrior.

You smirked, eyes gleaming with excitement.

"Your Highness, I'd be honored." You playfully mocked, almost falling off the bed as she pushed you, giggling.

The easy atmosphere grew tense with your next words. "Yona, can you kill someone?"

Her mouth gaped open. "Wha-"

"We're going to take him down." Your eyes flashed with determination. "We're going to make sure Kum-ji never gets the chance to hurt anyone else ever again."

The princess didn't miss the implication behind your words. She hesitated for a split second. "What's your reason for fighting?"

"To protect the people I love." Your eyes softened. "The captain, the other pirates, Jae-ha, the civilians of this town and the ones who are innocent, the ones who never asked for any part of this; I'm doing it for them."

"Did..." Yona paused, conflicted, "Did something happen to you at his hands?"

You froze. "Ah..." Rubbing the back of your neck, you smiled sheepishly. "You are sharper than I gave you credit for."

Despite the obviously uncomfortable topic, Yona beamed at the praise, knowing it was well intended by the genuine admiration on your face.

"Yeah, but that's a story for another day, okay?" You patted the red-haired princess on the head gently as she opened her mouth in protest. "I promise to tell you one day."

Yona nodded. Tilting your head, you grinned widely.

"What?" The princess asked, curious.

"They're back," You replied as Jae-ha's teasing laughter and Hak's irritated shouting reached your ears. "Let's go get some dinner."

Extending your hand to Yona, she grasped it, squeezing it tightly once. "Thank you, for everything."

"Anytime, Your Highness."

A cheeky grin spread across your face, and she puffed out her cheeks in mock annoyance, causing the two of you to head out on deck with bright smiles on your faces, hearts a little lighter than they were before.

You're not alone, Yona...

You watched as Kija and Yoon ran out to greet the princess, the latter shoving a bowl of pirate stew in her hands and scolding her hotly for running off on her own without telling anyone.

Your friends will be there to share your burden, just like you do for them.

Kija wailed as he noticed the bandages wrapped around Yona's hands, with the princess frantically reassuring him that she was alright. Hak eyed his princess from the edge of the boat, positioned next to Shin-ah who was rapidly stuffing his face with food; his fluffy squirrel perched on his arm to sneak in bites of food.

You heard movement from behind you, slyly smirking as you heard the tell-tale whistling of Jae-ha soaring through the air. He landed on top of the cabin gracefully, green hair flowing out from behind him.

And you don't need to worry,

You directed towards Yona silently as Ryokuryuu made his way over to you. The last bit the princess had clued you in on was about was how Jae-ha adamantly refused to join her on her travels.

I have a feeling he'll come around. After all...

You smiled as you studied Jae-ha, observing the way his eyes flickered over to Yona and her group, tension unconsciously easing from his body as he watched them eat heartily, interacting easily with the rest of the crew.

He's started to care about all of you, too.

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