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gloomwitchwrites · 6 months

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Frozen Ground: Part 1 (Din Djarin x Female Reader)

Content & Warnings: romantic fluff, love at first sight, Mandalorian culture

Word Count: 5.4k

Din travels to a farming planet to recruit a reclusive group of Mandalorians to help retake Mandalore. The snowy season is starting, and the locals are preparing for their winter observance. While waiting for the Mandalorian covert to come to a decision, Din spends time with the local population, finding a bit of comfort with a particular someone.

A/N: Part of the Winter 2023 Collection

Part 2

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // winter 2023 masterlist

Mando’a Translations: buir – father, mother Mando’ade – Mandalorians (plural) vod – brother, sister, comrade

The N1 Starfighter exits hyperspace and cruises through Itera airspace.

Grogu snoozes softly in Din’s lap. His small body is curled up in a ball, and his face is turned into Din’s chest plate as he slumbers. The foundling has been asleep the entire way to Itera, and he shows no sign of waking any time soon.

Din glances away from his foundling and out the N1’s viewport. A small twang of nervousness coils in the pit of his stomach as he observes the quickly approaching planet. It’s not the planet itself that worries Din, but why he was sent here in the first place. It is the task that Bo-Katan Kryze placed upon him with confidence that sits heavy on his shoulders.

Bo-Katan is uniting the clans. She is calling back the tribes in an effort to reclaim Mandalore. She heard a rumor that a reclusive tribe of Mandalorians dwell on Itera. Din is supposed to find them, and convince them to come back with him to Nevarro.

That is all the information he has. Bo-Katan had little intel to give. Din has no idea if these Mandalorians are more like his tribe, or if they lean more towards the ideals that Bo-Katan and her kin follow.

As Mandalorians, this tribe on Itera should welcome him. But Din knows that isn’t always the case. It wasn’t that long ago that Din had his own misgivings against fellow Mandalorians who walked the path differently than he.

When he first met Bo-Katan Kryze and her Nite Owls, Din shunned them. Even when they stepped in to save his foundling, and then later when a group of Quarren attacked him, Din was still reluctant to engage with them.

It’s not his proudest moment, and since then, much about his life has changed. The way he sees the galaxy, and his understanding of what it means to be a Mandalorian has shifted significantly in the last few years. While he holds tightly to his ideals, he knows that his way is not the only way.

Mandalorians should not hide in the dark any longer.

The cloudy expanse of Itera becomes clearer as Din cruises closer. Itera is a fertile farming planet located on the edge of the Middle Rim. Din rummaged around in some public achieves to scrounge up any information he could about it. According to the information he did manage to locate, Itera is relatively peaceful and mostly inhabited by small farming communities.

Even though Bo-Katan lacked information on who these Mandalorians are, she was able to provide Din with an estimated range of coordinates. She told him that they might be located within this range, but wasn’t entirely sure if her intel was reliable.

He’s worked with less.

Din punches in the numbers and the navigation system focuses in on a small bit of land in the northern hemisphere.

The N1’s engine purrs, and Grogu turns over in Din’s lap. The foundling does not wake.

Din’s ship breaks through the atmosphere and effortlessly transitions into the gray cloud cover. The clouds spit Din out over dreary farmland. Below him, droids and people work the land.

Din does not see any buildings that indicate a settlement. He checks the navigation system again and it reveals his suspicions. The coordinates Bo-Katan gave him cover too much land. He’ll need to tighten the search.

“Kriff me,” mutters Din, as he clears the coordinates from the nav system. “R5, scan the surface. Let’s find civilization.”

R5 chirps, and then a little antenna pops out of its head, spinning slowly in a circle. Din reduces his speed over the farmland, waiting for R5 to give him an answer. After a few minutes, the antenna retreats, and then the navigation system lights up with new coordinates.

Din follows the set path. While most of what Din sees is farmland, buildings start to appear in small intervals. At first, it’s just one or two, and then a cluster at a time. Before long, the wall of a settlement appears. There is open land to the left that Din deicides to land on.

He brings the N1 down softly.

Grogu still doesn’t stir. The little womprat has his right hand in his mouth, and a little line of drool runs down the back Grogu’s palm. Sighing, Din wipes it away.

“R5, what’s the temperature outside?” asks Din quietly as he watches a few swirls of snow drift down from the gray clouds. They land on the glass of the N1 and immediately melt.

R5 responds in a series of binary and Din sighs.

It’s far too cold for Grogu to be walking around for long periods of time. The snowy season has arrived on this planet, and Grogu will need something warmer to wear.

Slowly, Din releases the hatch and cold air drifts in. Using the blanket from Grogu’s pram, Din wraps the foundling in it, gently laying him down in the cockpit seat. Din steps out onto the wing and then the hard ground as the hatch closes.

He turns to R5. “Keep an eye on him while I’m gone.” R5 beeps in reply and Din heads toward the open gates.

The wood wall of the settlement seems more decorative than functional, roughly stopping at Din’s chest. Once Din approaches the entrance, he notices that there are no gates at all. It’s entirely open.

Strolling down the main street, Din realizes rather quickly that no one avoids him. It’s the exact opposite. Every person he passes greets Din with a friendly “hello” or nodding of the head before going about their day.

It’s bizarre. Strange. And it momentarily disorients him.

Din thought that he might ask around, see if he could find someone willing to talk to him. But every friendly face only causes him to question who he needs to speak to on locating the Mandalorian covert. No one shies away or avoids looking directly at his helmet. Each person is bold and unafraid of him.

Is the Mandalorian covert known to these people? Do they interact with them frequently?

Perhaps. It would explain why no one seems frightened of him.

Din enters deeper into the settlement, seeking out a cantina or public establishment where he might find information. Not finding any such place on the main road, Din tracks back to the very front of the settlement, deciding to head east and take a look around.

Rounding a corner, he hears the distinct sound of laughter. It’s not one person, or even a few, but a low roar like a small crowd. Din keeps walking, tracking the sound, coming across a small building that hardly looks big enough to hold a drinking establishment. In addition, the door is just red fabric handing from the top of the door frame.

The laughter comes again, and it’s much louder than before. He’s in the right spot.

With all the confidence Din can muster, he strides up to the curtain, pushing it aside and he steps into the building.

Din comes to a grinding halt, nearly tripping on his own feet.

This is not a cantina or anything similar.

A group of women, nearly fifteen in total, occupy the space. They all have large canvas sacks next to them, each one full of something different. Some look like they’re full of flower petals while others appear to hold bright red berries. The women vary in age. Most of them are older than Din, but there are a few who look to be about his age, give or take a few years.

They glance up but keep working, several of them smiling softly at him.

Din feels like an unwanted intruder even though the women appear calm and indifferent to his presence. He mumbles a “sorry” intended to back out the way he came, but the moment his boot slides backward, one of the women stands, her full attention on him.

“How can I help you, Mandalorian?”

You dust a few petals off your apron, missing the one in your hair, and approach Din, hands clasped in front of you. Din’s heart temporarily stutters to a stop before revving into a thudding beat he can feel in his ears. You’re pretty, but that isn’t the only thing he notices. You’re delicate lines and curves appeal to him in a way that trigger’s his protective instinct.

The flash of feeling, this need Din suddenly exhibits flashes bright and hot before his brain catches up and tries to smother it down to cooling embers.

“Excuse me. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Din tries to back out again but you only push in, and Din’s hand relexify forms a fist in an attempt to thwart the growing need to touch you.

“There is no interruption. How can I be of service to you?” Your head tilts to the right slightly, and the eagerness on your face sends blood to his groin.

Din’s eyes roam all over your body, but his eyes keep going back to the lone petal that’s tangled in the strands of your hair.

The other women still work, none of them glancing in Din’s direction. He decides to seek help, knowing it might not do much.

“There is a Mandalorian covert on this planet that I’m searching for. Do you know where I might find them?”

“Oh,” you murmur. Your eyes round slightly, and your lips part in surprise. “I didn’t realize—I thought you—” You shake your head and the petal in your hair stays put.

“Is there anyone here that might know?”

The gentle surprise morphs into amusement. “Everyone knows where they are.” The corners of your mouth curve up into a soft smile and Din nearly melts under that gaze. He is so absorbed in your beauty that your words are the last thing to catch up to him.

Everyone knows where they are?

Din does not have the chance to follow-up, you’re already talking, telling him exactly what he needs to know. “Just to the north of here. There’s a forested area where the covert lives.”

This is unusual, and Din is slightly unsure whether or not he can trust what he might find once he ventures in that direction.

“Do you know where exactly?”

You shake your head. “We do not go in. They like their privacy, and we are respectful of that.”

This is better news. The two groups must interact frequently. It would explain why everyone in town isn’t afraid of him.

“You’re not from around here?” you ask, curiosity tinging your tone.

“No,” replies Din. “I’m not.”

Your gaze softens. “If no one has, allow me to formally welcome you.”

Without thinking—without pausing to reconsider—Din reaches toward you, his gloved fingers plucking the petal from your hair. He presents it to you, open palmed.

Delicately, you lift it, rubbing it between your fingers. With your gaze on the petal, Din takes a step back, the curtain brushing against his back. You glance up, and Din inclines his head, disappearing quickly before he does something he’ll regret.

Din still burns beneath his armor even after he arrives back at the N1. Grogu is still sleeping, and his ship is entirely untouched. Din is careful with the foundling when he settles back into the cockpit.

He relays the information to R5 who promptly scans the area, sending new coordinates to the navigation system. Once clear, Din follows the trail north, finding the forest you mentioned. Din circles around a few times, eventually settling on a flat spot of land just outside the tree line. Din lowers the N1 to the planet’s surface. Grogu stirs in his lap but doesn’t wake.

He leaves Grogu behind again with R5, knowing that he can come back for Grogu later. The droid will look after him until Din can assess the situation.

As Din approaches the tree line, he pauses, surveying the ground around him. At first glance there are no footprints of even animal prints. He engages the scanner in his helmet. The moment it switches on, his screen lights up with glowing boot prints. They are everywhere, moving in so many directions that Din cannot find a pattern.

Frowning, Din switches over to another scanner. This one seeks out what only Mandalorians leave behind for others of their kind to find. He sweeps the scanner over the ground, and then the trees. He comes up empty.

Sighing, Din starts walking, stepping past the tree line and tries again, this time doing a slow sweep of the ground and trees. The hard ground crunches under his boots, and it is incredibly quiet, the only sound is the whistling wind.

On a tree in the distance, a soft glow catches Din’s attention in the scanner. He pauses, takes one step back for a better view. It’s a glowing Mythosaur with an arrow beneath it pointing to the right.

This is his lead. This is his break. You were telling the truth.

Din heads toward the glowing symbol and then follows the direction the arrow indicates, scanning the area for any other markers. He locates another that directs him deeper into the trees. It leads to a large rock formation. The stone slabs are layered over each other like a twisted crown.

There, glowing bright against the gray rock, is another Mythosaur.

“Hail, vod.”

Din whirls around, his hand on his blaster. The only thing that stays his hand from drawing the weapon is the use of the word vod.

A male Mandalorian drops from a tree branch and strides forward, stopping a few feet away from Din. His armor is dented in a few places and painted in various green tones that emulate the trees.

No wonder Din didn’t see him.

The man has not drawn his weapon, which means he does not see Din as a threat. But why would he? Mandalorians are stronger together, and any reunion, even between tribes, is a joyous one.

Din immediately removes his hand from his blaster, standing tall and proud. He has a job to do. “My name is Din Djarin. I’ve come on behalf of Lady Bo-Katan Kryze.”

The green-clad Mandalorian crosses his arms. “I see,” he replies, tone grim. “And what does Lady Kryze want with us?”

Better to get it out now in case he’s turned away. “She is rallying the clans to retake Mandalore.”

The man is quiet for a beat before he answers. “And she wishes for us to join her?”

“She does.”

The Mandalorian nods, and drops his arms, striding forward. “Well, Din Djarin. You are welcome in our enclave, and we will hear what you have to say.” He presents his hand and Din clasps it. “I am Crix Lera. Welcome to our home.”

Crix releases Din’s hand. He brushes past Din and heads to the rock.

Din follows, and notices a small opening that Crix disappears inside. The space isn’t tight but the formation of the natural rock hides the entrance. You’d need to know exactly where it is to see it.

Din slides through the opening, only to find himself in a small tunnel. Crix walks ahead, and Din follows on his heels along the path. They don’t walk for long. The small tunnel begins to widen, and then opens up into a large communal area.

The first thing Din immediately notices are the lack of faces. Everyone wears a helmet except for a few small children. The communal area is circular, and the center of the room is lower than the rest of the floor. There is a fire burning there, the smoke curling upward to exit through a naturally formed ventilation shaft. In the rocky ceiling are small cut outs that let in some natural light.

When Din enters the area on Crix’s heels, several people pause and glance up, watching the duo as Crix walks along the edge of the room. Din takes this time to take a closer look at the Mandalorians he’s been sent to speak with.

They all appear healthy. Their armor is relatively clean and in good repair. The ratio of men to women is fairly equal, and the number of foundlings is much larger than his tribe’s. Din’s gaze passes over a woman standing by the far wall with a man and a small child. She’s clutching her belly, and that is when Din notices the slight bulge underneath her chest plate.

“You’ll meet with our armorer and tribe leaders,” says Crix over his shoulder, drawing Din’s attention away from the slowly growing crowd of Mandalorians.

“Do they make all the decisions?”

Crix shakes his head. “No. We make them as a group. But when it comes to matters pertaining to the whole clan, they are the ones who mediate the discussions. We will often look to them for final guidance.”

Din does not reply. It’s similar to how his own tribe operates, but he still has too many questions.

Crix guides Din to a small cut in the rock wall. It’s an archway, and it deposits them into a much smaller chamber. A simple forge sits in the center of the room. A Mandalorian Armorer and a child stand together near a workbench. The child is young but old enough to start their training. The two of them talk softly.

On the opposite side of the room, another Mandalorian hammers away at some armor. It’s clear that this is still a child, perhaps a teenager, and must be an apprentice of some kind because his armor is like that of the armorer’s.

The armorer and child both look up when Din and Crix enter the room. Din hangs back near the archway as Crix addresses the armorer.

“We have a visitor, Vikal. This is Din Djarin. Sent to us by Lady Bo-Katan of Clan Kryze. He says she is rallying the clans to retake Mandalore.”

At the mention of retaking Mandalore, the apprentice pauses mid-swing to glance over at Din. The small child at Vikal’s hip shifts slightly, clearly nervous.

Vikal sets the vambrace he’s holding on top of the workbench. He turns toward the apprentice. “Darro. Take your brother and leave us.”

Darro immediately responds, heading in their direction.

“But buir!” protests the child, his little fist tugging on his father’s hand.

“Hush. Go with your brother.” Vikal places a hand on the child’s shoulder just as Darro presents his hand. The child takes it, and Din steps to the side as they pass through the archway.

Once they leave, Vikal steps out from around the workbench and strides forward, pausing just a few feet away from Din. Vikal’s armor and clothes are all black. It’s almost like looking into the void of space. He’s tall, too. Perhaps as tall or even surpassing Paz Vizsla in size.

“Yours?” asks Din, using the question to learn a little bit about the tribe’s practices.

“Mine,” confirms Vikal. But he doesn’t elaborate, and Din decides not to say anything more. “Have you just arrived?” inquires Vikal. “From Mandalore?”

“No,” answers Din. “I came from Nevarro.”

“That is far.”

Vikal closes the distance, his helmet moving with him as he clearly observers Din’s armor. It is not an objectifying look, but an appreciation. “You wear fine work.”

“The armorer of my tribe forged it for me. I am honored by it.”

“This is the Way,” states Vikal.

“This is the Way,” replies Din.

Vikal inclines his head and takes a step back. “You are our guest here. You shall have our hospitality before we speak on more serious matters. As warriors, we are always so quick to take action. Rest. Eat. We will proceed from there.” He turns to Crix. “See to it that Din Djarin has a private room and a hot meal.”

Crix nods, and he and Din depart.

In his private room, Din removes his helmet, and eats.

The food is hot. Fresh. So different from the plain rations he’s used to eating with his tribe. Din wants to know more about this one. He is curious to their ways. When Crix comes for him, the two return to the main communal area. The entire tribe is there, including all the younglings. It is then that he notices several Mandalorians clutching infants.

Din scans the crowd and his heart drops into his stomach.

R5 is here. The droid is on Vikal’s left side. On the armorer’s right, sitting on the floor near his boots, is Grogu. The foundling has a wooden bowl before him. He reaches in, and lifts a handful of something that Din doesn’t recognize and shoves it all into his mouth.

Din immediately aims for Grogu. Seeming to sense him, Grogu glances up and coos, his food covered hands reaching for Din.

“I assume this one is yours?” asks Vikal as Din lifts Grogu and holds the little womprat up to his face. Din checks him over but the foundling is fine. No signs of injury expect the food that’s smeared all over the child’s hands and face.

“Yes,” sighs Din. Crix holds out a hand, indicating he should take a seat. Din does so but he puts Grogu back on the floor. The foundling immediately crawls toward the bowl.

“Your foundling and the droid arrived not too long ago. Found us quite easily. Impressive for one so young.”

Din smiles softly behind the helmet.

Vikal rubs his knees and then stands, striding forward, stopping before the fire. The entire room quiets.

“Mando’ade! We welcome Din Djarin.” Vikal turns toward Din and extends his arm in Din’s direction. The Mandalorians in attendance beat their fists against their chests three times before dropping their arms. “He brings us an important message.”

Vikal retreats, stopping before Din. “Approach, vod. We will hear you.”

Din stands slowly. Grogu’s head tilts to the side, watching Din, his mouth full of food. Din walks to the center of the room just shy of the fire.

“I am Din Djarin. My tribe lives on Nevarro. I have come before you at the behest of Lady Bo-Katan Kryze. She is rallying the clans in an effort to return to and reclaim our ancestral home world of Mandalore. She sent me to ask you if you are willing to join our efforts.”

Din pauses and every single person in the room is watching him, saying nothing. He swallows, knowing that he’ll need to say more to convince them to join.

“I know that I am in no position to ask this of any of you. But we have lived in the dark for too long. Our people are scattered. Like stars in the galaxy. Perhaps it is time for us to live in the light once again. So that our culture may flourish and our children can feel what is it to play in the sunlight.”

The Mandalorians around him chatter softly, but Din cannot differentiate between their conversations. He turns toward Vikal, and the man stands. “Is Lady Kryze certain of success?” he asks, addressing Din. “Mandalorians are few, and our preservation is important. Can she guarantee that there will not be needless death?”

No.

Din sighs, his shoulders heaving slightly. “I cannot give you any such certainties.”

Another Mandalorian stands. It is a man, and his armor is a deep red. “That planet is cursed. The air is unbreathable and nothing grows. We have all heard the stories. Why should we go back to a dead planet?”

“This is not true,” says Din vehemently. “I have been to the surface. I have seen Mandalore with my own eyes. The air is breathable. Life is possible.”

The quiet chatter heightens. Becomes a dull roar.

“What is Lady Kryze’s plan for when the planet is retaken?” This time, a woman asks the question.

“Her goal is the Great Forge. That will be our place of operations and base for reconstruction.”

Din will tell them the truth. There is no reason to hide anything.

“But will we have a place there? Can we call Mandalore home? Or must we return to this planet?”

“All Mandalorians are welcome.”

Vikal nods and stands. “Does anyone else have questions for Din Djarin?” No one replies. “Thank you for relaying Lady Kryze’s message. You have given us much to consider.” Vikal addresses the room. “We will reflect on this, and then convene tomorrow evening for deeper discussion.”

The crowd of Mandalorians incline their heads and place their fists over their hearts. When their arms drop back to their sides, many start to get up and leave.

This isn’t the outcome Din was hoping for. He thought he might receive a quick answer, or even an indication that they are willing to join.

Crix comes up beside Din. “Decisions are never made quickly. You’ll likely be here a few days.”

“As long as I can return with an answer.”

“I’ll come for you tomorrow morning. The local population is holding a festival to celebrate the coming cold.”

Din thinks back to you and the women in that small dwelling. He didn’t exactly get a good look at what you were doing, but Din can only assume the two are connected.

Din tips is head to the side. “You mingle with them?”

“To an extent,” shrugs Crix. “They have no standing army or protection. We look after them, and they take care of us. It has kept our tribe safe for many years.”

Din nods and then bends at the knees to pick up Grogu, cradling the foundling close to his heart.

Crix fetches Din in the early hours of the morning. Grogu is left behind with the other younglings. Din is reluctant to do so, but Crix is persuasive, and Grogu is visibly happy to be amongst other children.

The two men head back through the tunnel, stepping out into the forest. The sun is starting to rise but it’s hard to see through the gray clouds. It snowed overnight, and there is a dusting across the forest floor.

Three Mandalorians mingle just outside the exit. Two men and one woman. They greet Crix with firm handshakes.

“This is Din Djarin,” says Crix. “He’s joining us on our visit into town.”

“Passionate speech you made last night. I’m Jido. Welcome.” Jido and Din clasp forearms and shake.

Jido steps back and points his thumb over his shoulder at the other two Mandalorians. “That’s Ran and Cerra.” Ran gives Din a half-hearted salute while Cerra lifts her hand in greeting. Jido leans in and whispers. “They’re a bit boring.”

“Heard that,” snaps Cerra as she turns her back on the group. “We going?”

The five of them head into the trees, walking in the direction that Din entered from. When they exit, Din heads for the N1, looking it over for any signs of tampering. It’s clean, and Din sighs with relief.

“The people here don’t touch things that aren’t theirs. Your ship will be fine,” states Crix as he walks up beside Din. He runs his gloved hand over the wing in appreciation.

“On Tatooine, I had a run in with some Jawas,” replies Din.

Crix snorts. “What was left of your ship?”

“Nothing.”

Jido, Ran, and Cerra’s jetpacks ignite. Crix and Din follow suit, the five of them launching into the air. Din trails behind, following the four Mandalorians as they jet across dreary farmland.

In minutes they approach the small settlement Din visited yesterday, landing right outside the wall. The people moving about don’t even seem to care that a group of Mandalorians landed amongst them. They keep going about their lives as if is this the norm. It’s the same reaction they had with Din.

Din is almost always the stranger. The unknown variable. In crowded places, he is avoided unless someone needs something from him.

He stays at the back of the pack. Jido, Ran, Crix, and Cerra all appear relaxed. They chat amongst themselves, and even stop for an old woman who presents a basket to them full of the red berries Din saw yesterday. Each Mandalorian takes a handful and deposits the goods into various pockets of their flightsuits.

The old woman approaches Din and holds the basket out to him. He doesn’t want to offend her. He scoops out a decent handful and finds a home for them. He’ll share it with Grogu when he returns.

The old woman inclines her head and moves on. Din’s helmet follows her but Crix taps against Din’s upper arm, drawing his attention away from the woman.

Din inhales, and he isn’t sure if the voice receiver in his helmet picks up the soft sound.

You’re standing right there, eyes bright and eager.

“You found them,” you say enthusiastically.

“I did.” Din is nervous. Why is he nervous? Do you do this to him?

Crix crosses his arms and pops a hip. “The two of you know each other?”

You laugh, and it’s the loveliest sound Din has ever heard. “He stumbled in to Tarra’s workshop while we were preparing the Daily Strands.”

“Make enough for us?” asks Jido, his voice a bit sultry. A bit teasing. Din instantly hates that he’s speaking to you that way.

“There are plenty. So, yes,” you tease back, smiling widely.

Crix shifts, turning his body toward Din. “Since you’re our guest, you don’t need to follow us around while we work.” Crix inclines his head in your direction. “She’ll show you around a bit.”

You look so hopeful that Din cannot say no.

He walks beside you the entire time as you go on about the important buildings, the history of the people, and the finer details of your culture. Din is enraptured by how animated you are toward him. He hardly risks asking any questions, mostly wanting to hear you talk.

“Here we are.” You extend your hand toward the building Din stumbled into yesterday.

“Are we going inside?” asks Din skeptically.

You grin and push back the curtain, gesturing for him to come inside. He follows, and this time there are only two other women in this space. They greet Din politely, but return to their work. You walk over to a large table. On it, are…necklaces? Din isn’t entirely sure what they are.

With caution, he approaches, you present one to him.

“These are Daily Strands. We wear them every day during the winter observance.” You point to the threads holding it together. “The threaded cord is the base, symbolizing the importance of community.” Next, you point to the flower petals. “These symbolize the eventual thaw and growth of new life.” Then the red berries. “These are native to the planet. We dry them out to represent the frozen ground.”

“And what do these symbolize?” asks Din, pointing to long, thin, green, stick-like leaves.

“Abundance. These are needles from local trees, and they grow everywhere.” You smile softly. “But it’s more of a wish for prosperity in the future.”

These are what Jido and Crix were referring to.

You gently lift the Daily Strand, presenting it to Din like an offering. “It’s customary to wear one of these.”

Din does not refuse. Instead, he lowers at the waist so that you can slide it over his helmet and around his neck.

You gently draw away and your hands fall to your skirts, your fingers fumbling with the fabric in nervousness. “It is also customary for the giver to kiss the cheeks of the receiver.” You shrug. “But I can make an exception given the circumstances.”

Din remembers how eager Jido was to receiving one of these. Briefly, Din imagines you kiss the sides of Jido and Crix’s helmets, and Din instantly simmers.

Not knowing how to ask, Din bends again, this time just enough that all you’ll need to do is to go up on your toes to place those gentle lips against his beskar.

“No exceptions,” he murmurs.

Your mouth forms a soft o, and then it cools, turning into tender satisfaction. Slowly, you kiss the curve of his helmet on the right side and then the left.

Even with the helmet on, Din still manages to catch a whiff of your scent. You smell like the trees and warm sugar. Without instruction, his hand brushes against your hip.

You do not draw away, and that pleases something deep within Din. When you pull back, Din instantly misses your heat.

“I will wear this every day,” says Din, his hand resting against it briefly.

You laugh, and Din doesn’t understand what you find so funny. “It’s a Daily Strand. You receive a new one each day.”

Every day? Does that mean you’ll kiss him every time you place a new one around his neck?

“Then I will be back tomorrow for a new one.”

“Promise?” you murmur.

“Promise.”

Part 2

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dindjarindiaries · 6 months

Text

Dincember - December 5: Cold

character: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

prompt: Cold

main masterlist • dincember masterlist

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙

The cockpit was haphazardly pressurized, the Razor Crest was puttering along its path, and both the child and your frog-like passenger were asleep. That left only you and Din awake, though you could tell he was trying to feign sleep - as if he hoped you wouldn't notice what was truly going on.

"Din."

You whispered his name, both in an effort to keep it private and to keep the others from waking. Din's helmet leaned towards you, though he kept his visor fixed on the viewport. You reached forward and brushed your fingertips along his pauldron, the metal biting your fingers with the most bitter kind of cold.

"You're still frozen over." Din tightened the arms he had crossed over his chest, as if it would keep them from trembling more. It didn't. "You must be even colder under there."

"I'm fine." Din raised a gloved hand to find yours on his shoulder, patting it as reassuringly as he could. "Don't worry about me. You need to rest."

"As do you." You raised your brow at him. "And there's no way you can when you're still shivering."

Din shrugged. "I'll manage."

You frowned at him. "We don't have any spare blankets in here."

"The ice will melt eventually."

You fought the urge to sigh at him. "Once we're already in orbit of Trask, maybe."

Din sat up more, spinning in his chair to face you. "Cyar'ika, I'm f-f...," a rather violent shiver kept him from finishing the word at first, "fine." He sounded defeated as he finished the phrase, obviously having been given away.

You wrinkled your brow and take his hand between your own. "Can I help?"

Din gives his helmet a tilt. "How?"

You smiled and stood from your seat, taking the child from your lap and letting him have it to himself. Stepping towards Din, you nodded, silently asking for permission to sit. Din widened his arms for you, allowing you to take your place upon him with your front side against his own. You set your hands upon your cuirass for a moment, letting Din's visor face you with concern that was evident through the beskar.

"Doesn't this make you cold?" Din's question was coated in worry.

You shook your head. "Not for long." Your arms wrapped around his middle as you rested the side of your head against his cowl, closing your eyes and breathing in the comfort of him. "It'll melt."

Din's arms do the same to you as you had just done to him. "Was this really in the interest of warming me up?" His gloved fingertips brushed gently over you for further comfort. "Or did you just want to sit like this?"

You smiled against him. "A little bit of both." You tightened your grasp around him. "But mostly to keep you warm." You lifted a hand for only a moment to run your finger along the frost on his armor, leaving a heart behind in its wake. "Promise."

Din huffed in both amusement and affection. "Thank you." His helmet gently rested upon your head. "You're very warm."

Your smile grew at that. "Good."

#no more blankets for din just cuddles #dincember 2023 #din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #prompts #dindjarindiaries #this gif makes me want to tear my hair out in the best way btw :)

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stellarbit · 22 days

Text

But Do Remember Often

1.8k words Warnings: Sad and I definitely cried teared up writing this.

Spoilers... ish? If you need some Tech closure, this might be for you.

Listen to this while you read it.

You wake to find yourself back in the Marauder with Tech and you have a choice to make.

Filtering in through a fog of pain and ringing in your ears, came the hum of the Marauder controls. You lightly touched your head, blinking your eyes open. The dim light of space mingled with the soft red and white controls around you. You didn’t remember when you’d fallen asleep, but there you were, slumped in the copilot chair of the Marauder.

“Ah, you are awake.” Tech’s voice came from your left.

His voice bubbled up a pleasant hum from your chest. You smiled, rolling your head to the side to find him facing you in the pilot’s seat. “How long have I been out?”

Tech sat stiffly in the chair, his hands gripping his thighs. His eyes momentarily darted to the floor before settling on the void beyond the viewport. “I… am uncertain.”

His hesitancy crinkled your nose. Adjusting yourself in the seat, you scanned the stars around you. The lingering drowsiness blurred your memory of the voyage. “Tech, how much longer do we have?”

He was silent for a moment too long, his gaze lingering on the star-strewn void outside before meeting yours with a weight that seemed to pull at the very air between you. "We... don't have a destination, not in the way you think." Tech sighed, continuing, “Before we discuss further, it's crucial to address your current state."

Your heart skipped. Something in his tone, the heaviness of his pause, stirred a dread deep within you. "What do you mean?"

He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come. "You are unconscious. You were injured during the mission on Tantiss - a mission I was not a part of.” The room seemed to spin slightly as his words sank in.

A pain throbbed dully at the back of your mind, urging you to focus through the haze. The distant sound of metal and earth colliding echoed through you.

"Unconscious? But I'm here, talking to you." You shook your head lightly, finding some joke in his words. “I don’t... remember being injured." You did a quick scan of your body, but nothing was amiss.

Tech’s grip on his thighs tightened, sympathy flickering in his eyes, “You wouldn’t. It happened before... before you entered this state."

“State?” You scoffed, but images flashed by you. Falling through the forest, blaster fire, impact - all blurring together. Blinking away the scene, you focused again on Tech. For the first time, you noticed light shimmer around him.

A knowing knot formed in your throat, threatening to make you sick. Deep within your chest, locked far from your mind, a crack split wide open and the pain that followed cut off your air supply.

Quivering and choked up, you managed to ask, “If I’m here because of my injuries, then why are you here?" A tear, a premonition of what was to come, slipped from your eye and nothing could stop the rest that followed.

“Physically, you are not here with me. Nor am I with you.” Tech explained carefully, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment. You choked again at the sight. “I was not with you on Tantiss because I could not be. I perished, months ago, on Eriadu”

The revelation, the memory, felt like a cold wave flooding you. “Tech,” you said his name in a desperate plea, as if calling it out could halt time itself. Still, you shook, your entire body rocking slightly as your head bobbed from side to side.

Tech said your name softly, his tone a beacon, snapping your attention back and anchoring you to the moment. You tried to hold back the frown, the devastation; the denial was suffocating.

He swallowed hard, the motion visible, and rose from his chair to kneel before you. His eyes lingered over you, soaking in the sight as if memorizing every detail. Tech clenched a hand into a fist; this was as hard for him as it was for you.

“What’s happening?” You weren’t sure if you’d ever asked him so many questions before. A part of you feared you were wasting precious moments in doing so.

“It would stand to reason,” he began, his voice steady despite the emotion he worked to mask, “that in moments like these, the mind can create vivid, immersive experiences, or even memories.”

His analytical eyes met yours, and though they were filled with a deep sorrow at seeing the terror washing over you, he knew he had to let you navigate through this realization on your own.

“So this,” You sobbed, “This isn’t real?”

A faint smile pulled at the corner of his lips. Something you so cherished, lost for months, and now breaking your heart. “I am here, as much as any memory or echo can be.” Tech brought a knuckle to his chin, tapping as he processed it himself. “It's not uncommon for those with your abilities to have... visions, especially under extreme stress or near-death conditions.”

You absorbed his words, the clinical detachment with which he presented this stark reality clashing with the emotional turmoil it wrought within you. It was so like Tech to relay even the most heartbreaking news in such a factual manner.

Tech continued, “When I died, part of me remained, anchored through the force and connected to you because of our bond. It would be an apt hypothesis, all things considered, that that is how we can still speak, how I can still be by your side in this way. It's rare, uncharted…” He shook his head, clearly amazed himself. “I cannot provide all the answers. But I believe it’s your will that brought us here.”

So you were alone, yet not alone; you were communicating with something beyond the physical, a part of Tech that had refused to let go entirely.

"And what about me?" you whispered, your voice barely a breath. "Am I... am I dying?"

"Not entirely, no," Tech said firmly. "I believe you are caught in between, because of your injury. But this state... it's temporary. You can return."A selfish part of him seemed to surface, hesitant but honest, “It is your choice,” he added, the words heavy with implication.

You covered your face in your hands, wondering if you’d ever be able to breathe again. Two gloved hands tugged on your hands. Looking up, you could barely see Tech through the floodgate of tears.

Tech reached up with a hand that, you knew, could never truly touch yours again. Yet, you felt it on your cheek brushing away the ceaseless tears. Tech's voice was gentle as he said, “But I am gone from the living world. And you... you have a choice to make: to stay lost in these memories, or to move forward.”

The pain was immense, squeezing your chest until you thought you might shatter. "How can I leave you, Tech? After everything?"

His hand still on yours, he squeezed. “I am quite aware of your strength. You are one of the strongest people I have ever known.” His head tilted in a strangely confident way. It almost made you smile. “Besides, seeing as how I am not going anywhere, you would not be leaving me.”

He stood, drawing your attention upward as he rose. Taking a step back, he gently pulled on your hand, guiding you out of the chair.

Tech stood before you, still holding your hand in the space between you, his expression adorned with a proud smile. "You will always be fascinating," he declared. Then, with a gentle tug at your waist, he drew you close to him.

The sturdiness of his presence was undeniable. You swept your hand up his neck, feeling him solid beneath your touch. You felt him there, could even smell him—every detail vivid, every memory of him acute. You missed everything about him.

“I’d like to ask you something,” he said, his gaze shifting between your eyes, a keen observer eager to capture every nuance of your reaction.

Your voice, barely a whisper, surprised you. “Yes?” When had your tears ceased?

He leaned in closer, his presence enveloping, his eyes searching yours for the truths they held. “Do you regret joining Clone Force 99?”

You took a sharp inhale, your hand instinctively tightening around his neck. “Never.”

“Do you regret knowing me?”

“Tech.” You hissed in final warning. “Now is not the time to make me mad.”

Tech hummed victoriously. “I’m merely gathering evidence to prove my theory.”

“What theory?”

“Why the right choice is to move on.” Tech chuckled as he gently started to sway with you. “Though you will find it difficult to forget my extraordinary mind.”

His quips, his humorous arrogance, tugged at your heart, making your lip quiver. Tech slowed for a moment, his gaze searching your face, unsure if you were on the brink of tears or laughter.

You expected a laugh to taste of ash, but when it came, it didn’t feel so wrong. “How could I ever forget?”

Tech’s eyes widened as he watched a smile spread across your lips. The sight seemed to delight him, a glimmer of his affectionate pride shining through.

He considered asking you to linger; he knew he’d never tire of your company. He’d be content to spend eternity with you. Yet, as he began to sway with you once more, a different thought took precedence.

He cleared his throat and said, “Then it is obvious. Remember me if you want, but you must carry on.” He ducked closer, resting his forehead on yours. "But I quite like the idea of you smiling whenever you think of me, for the rest of your life."

Tech brushed his lips against yours before pressing in with a kiss.

You felt a tremor in your hand, but his steady grip stilled you. “Tech, I’ve missed you so much.”

"I know, and I you," he replied. "But death is a part of life, an unavoidable end. And my end…” Tech sighed and continued. “Was my choice."

He pulled away, his hands shifting to your shoulders. “Now, you have a choice.”

You touched his hands, attempting a wobbly smile. “What would I do without you?”

Tech gazed into your eyes, his expression resolved. "You will live," he said. "You'll thrive, because that's what you do now. You adapt, you overcome."

He paused, a smile tingling at the corners of his mouth. "Make new memories, ones that I'd be proud to be a part of in spirit. Remember me often."

His touch lingered a moment longer before he slowly stepped back, "And since I am not going anywhere.” He adjusted his goggles and smirked. “It falls to you to keep the others safe, they certainly need it.”

With a final nod, Tech turned slightly, indicating that your time together was nearing its natural conclusion, not because he was vanishing, but because you were ready. "You’re more capable than you realize. Trust in that. And when you need to, trust that I'm still here, in the memories you carry and the decisions you make."

He tipped two fingers at you. In a final quip he said, “But do remember me often.”

#somebody kill me please #tech #tech spoilers #the bad batch spoilers #bad batch spoilers #tbb spoilers #the bad batch #bad batch #tbb #tbb tech #the bad batch tech #tech x reader #clone force 99 #tbb tech x you #tech x you #tech girlies

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thewertsearch · 9 days

Text

Kanaya <3

This is the first troll we've seen who's not a newborn grub or thirteenish-year-old Player. I guess they pupate directly into a scaled-down version of their adult body.

She looks barely larger than a grub, so it can't have been long since the trials, assuming the Sburb trolls did them at all. The comic has never elaborated on what these trials entail, but I think this is the first aspect of Homestuck's universe that I don't want a loredrop on.

GA: I Dont Mean Hes The Universe You Are From GA: We Engineered That Incarnation GA: He Is The Universe That You Are Trying To Create

GA: That Statement Was As Literal As You Can Possibly Make Words Be GA: I Know Your Species Is Frequently Insincere For A Variety Of Reasons GG: but your species is too! […] GA: Thats True But When We Do It Its Usually Just Because We Are Trying To Be Jerks

And when you're trying not to be jerks, too. Alternia is just kind of.... like that.

GG: i try to say what i mean as much as i can GA: Yeah I Think Ive Been Discerning That GA: Its A Nice Change Of Pace […] GG: haha, you mean from rose?

Jade knows what the fuck is up. Maybe it's her turn to wingman for Rose.

GA: I Wont Be Speaking To Her Anymore Though GG: why? GG: oh yeah, because you said she is blacked out? GG: what the heck does that mean! GA: It Just Means In A Few Moments From Your Perspective I Wont Be Able To See Her Through My Viewport Or Talk To Her

The blackout occurred while these two girls were in conversation, meaning Rose is about to message Jade right as it kicks in.

This message is obviously important - but what could it be? Is Rose trying to warn Jade about the circumstances that cause the blackout, in order to protect her from its effects?

GA: She Has Been Relying On The Powers And Counsel Of Dark Gods And Other Sources Of Ambiguous Intent GA: And She Has Consequently Devised A Plan Which Sounds Very Dangerous To Me GG: yeah, i didnt like the sound of her plan either! GA: You Are More Sensible GA: Its Probably The Influence Skaia Has Had On You GA: Having Spent Much Of Your Life Awake On Prospit GA: Like Me

We've talked before about what Dream Moon affinity really means for a Player. The theory I liked the most was that Prospit kids are predisposed to follow their fate, whereas Derse kids are inclined to defy their destiny.

This seems like more fuel for that fire, as Rose's acts of desperation and defiance clash with Jade's more levelheaded, 'sensible' attitude. rose, you're going to break something! :o

#homestuck liveblog #full liveblog #act 5.2 #3320 #s118 #my spellcheck kept correcting jerks to jerma. your name is JEREMY ANDIEE #also: yes i see him. we'll get to him.

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anxiouspineapple99 · 10 months

Text

You Don’t Have to Choose

Pairing: Tech x Fem!Reader x Crosshair

Summary: Tech and Crosshair find themselves pining for the same woman. They share most other things so why not her too?

Warnings: This is filth. Just smutty smut. Oral sex (m & f receiving), PiV sex, softdom!Tech, fingering, threesome (NO c!onecest) Crosshair catches feelings, absolutely 18+ because this isn’t for minors.

Word Count: 5k — yeah I just went balls to the wall with this one lol

A/N: This was my first ever smut piece so please be kind 🥲. Thank you to my amazing proofreaders @dystopicjumpsuit and @starrylothcat I don’t deserve you!

Dividers courtesy of: @tcwmatchmakingau

You knelt between Crosshair’s knees, dabbing the gauze soaked in bacta across his knuckles, “For Maker’s sake Cross, what did you hit? A durasteel wall? You’re lucky I didn’t need to stitch this up.”

The silver-haired sniper hissed an inaudible swear through his teeth but refused to answer.

“Actually it was a B-1, but instead of a clean hit his knuckles collided with a joint causing more damage to the dermis,” Tech’s voice rang out from the cockpit.

“Tattletell,” Crosshair grumbled, “Hunter was overwhelmed. It was…reflex.”

A soft smile crept to your lips as you cooed, “I knew you were secretly a softie, Cross.” You continued your care of his hands, brushing your fingertips comfortingly across them. It was a touch that was more affectionate than clinical. “Don’t worry I won’t tell anyone.”

Crosshair shifted uncomfortably at the praise, refusing to meet your eyes but you were certain a smile briefly pulled at the corners of his mouth before he suppressed it.

“Tech!” you called as you finished gathering the contents of your medkit, “don’t think I didn’t see that head wound you tried to hide from me when you got back!” You huffed impatiently as you marched into the cockpit.

“I am fine. Your concern is unwarranted,” Tech held up his hand to you which you immediately swatted away.

“I’m the medic here. I’ll make that call.” You grabbed his chin and turned him to face you. He rolled his eyes as you inspected the head wound that was poorly tended and still bleeding.

“I swear to the Force, Tech. You and Crosshair are, without a doubt, my worst patients. Hunter and Wrecker let me take care of them with no complaints. But you two? You hide everything and Crosshair is so tight lipped I have to use a hydrospanner to get him to open up about his injuries. Just. Let. Me. Do. My. Job.” You furrowed your brow as you tenderly cleaned and covered his injury. Your fingers brushed down along his jaw sending a slight chill down his spine. You pulled out your pen torch and reached for Tech’s goggles.

He pushed your hand away, “That is unnecessary. My injury was not substantial enough to…” he paused when he heard the clicking of your grinding teeth. “Very well, if you insist,” he relented, lifting his goggles from his face.

Your face softened as you leaned in to shine the pen torch in each eye. “Pupillary light response is normal.”

Tech turned back to face the viewport, “I told you as such.”

You pushed yourself between his knees and caged him in against the pilot’s seat. “Uh-uh. I want to make myself abundantly clear, Tech.” You leaned into him nearly nose to nose and intensely held his gaze, “Stop hiding injuries from me. And tell your brother he needs to verbalize what he needs from me.”

Tech inhaled and met your intensity. While he didn’t carry the imposing stature of Wrecker, he was not easily intimidated. “I will share injuries when I feel they require your expertise. And you and I both know Crosshair is hardly a conversationalist. That is his nature and you cannot change him.”

Your lips pressed into a hard line. “I’m not asking to change him, I am asking for cooperation. From you both.”

Tech put his goggles back on before retorting, “The best I can offer is speaking on Cross’s behalf. I did it when we were cadets on Kamino and sometimes still do. He dislikes the Kaminoans and medical procedures even more.”

You closed your eyes and sighed as you relented, “Fine. That’s fair. I understand his discomfort and if your speaking for him means I can better help him then we can do that.” You pressed your forehead to Tech’s “But you, sir, will be the death of me if you keep hiding injuries. Please, try to trust that I can help you. Even with the insignificant ones.”

Tech blinked rapidly, taken aback by your sudden intimate show of affection, “I do trust you.”

You pulled back with a look of sadness and exhaustion in your eyes, “Prove it then.” You gathered your medkit and climbed over his lithely long leg before pausing at the door to the cockpit, “You’re medically cleared, by the way. If you feel any discomfort feel free to let me know, though I’m sure you won’t.”

“What was that?” Crosshair sat in the copilot seat and flung his feet onto the console.

Tech shot him a glare before answering, “She seems to believe that I do not trust her. And she wants you to speak up and tell her what you need.” Crosshair hummed in acknowledgment, staring straight ahead. Tech continued, “I told her I would speak on your behalf regarding any medical issues.”

Crosshair tilted his head toward his brother, “We aren’t cadets anymore. You don’t have to do that.”

“I am aware. However, I am also aware of how distressing medical procedures still are for you. No matter how minor.” Tech remembered how many medical procedures he’d had to intervene on Crosshair's behalf. He’d do it for the rest of their lives if he had to.

“Thanks,” he let his head flop back onto the headrest. “Should we tell her?”

“Perhaps. I have been thinking about that. We agreed to not confess our attraction to her owing to not wanting her to have to choose, correct?” Tech fiddled with controls as he spoke.

“Yeah?” Crosshair’s leg bounced, not knowing what Tech was thinking was rare for him and it always made him nervous when it happened.

“What if we did not ask her to choose?” Tech asked pointedly.

“You mean you want to… share her?” The incredulity was dripping in Crosshair’s voice at Tech’s suggestion. The two of them shared many things, living spaces, genetics, secrets, sometimes even clothing when they weren’t paying attention when putting on their blacks, but a woman? That would be a first.

“Precisely,” he held up his finger, eyes fixed on the console before him.

“What makes you think she would go for it?” Crosshair ran his fingers through his silver locks.

“She shows all the markers for physical attraction at the minimum: pupillary dilation upon seeing us, elevation in heart rate and respiration, opting for closer physical proximity to us.” Pride beamed from Tech’s face as he continued, “And a particularly charming smile that I have only ever seen directed towards us.”

Crosshair leaned forward and looked at Tech, concern still etched into his brow. “But both of us?”

“What do we have to lose? We already avoid her as it is. At least we would have a reason if she was not amenable to the suggestion.” Tech answered ardently.

Crosshair narrowed his eyes at Tech. “And if she is amenable?”

Tech glanced back toward him with a slight shrug. “Lucky us.”

***********

You reclined across the crash seats, feet kicked up as you caught up with journals on the most u-pto-date medical practices. You were deeply focused on efficient battlefield stabilization techniques when Crosshair’s voice startled you.

“You could get hurt sitting like that.”

You let out a squeak as your datapad flew from your hands. Tech easily caught it single handed as he stood over you.

“Maker, you almost made me jump out of my skin, Cross!” As you sat up you realized only Tech and Crosshair had approached you. “Is everything okay? Do you need me to take a look at that hand, Crosshair? You’re not having headaches, are you Tech?” You stood up, ready to grab your medkit.

Crosshair stood behind Tech, flicking his toothpick idly as his eyes drank you in from head to toe. “No. We have no physical complaints. Crosshair and I actually have a proposition for you,” Tech’s unfalteringly calm voice gave you chills as he caged you in against the wall.

“What would that be?” Your voice cracked as you attempted to steady your breathing.

“We find you exceptionally alluring.” Even through his goggles you could see desire burning in his eyes. “And we know you are also attracted to us.”

You narrowed your eyes at him trying not to give up your cards too soon, “You seem quite sure of that.”

A smile curled at the corners of Tech’s mouth. He slowly leaned in, licking his lips as he hovered so close to your ear you could feel his breath all the way down your neck. “Do not play coy, mesh’la. That is a game you will not win. I am seldom wrong. We see the smiles, the close proximity you unconsciously try to keep to us. I’ve seen your pupillary response when speaking to myself and Crosshair as opposed to Hunter and Wrecker. I have watched your increased respiration and felt your heart rate increase through your radial pulse when I have held your wrist.”

An involuntary whine vibrated in your chest, “Y-You noticed all of that?”

The sound pulled a smile from Crosshair, “Hear that Tech? She’s already worked up.” He leaned over Tech’s shoulder, licking his lips as his eyes remained fixed on your crotch.

Tech cocked an eyebrow, “Indeed. She is even prettier when she’s flustered.”

Crosshair grinned deviously and whispered in your other ear, “Give up, doll. Tech’s right. You won’t win this game.” He grazed your ear with his teeth before pulling back to stand behind Tech again leaving you momentarily breathless.

“Would you acquiesce to allowing Crosshair and myself to provide you with an evening of pleasure you have never known before?”

Your heart fluttered at the suggestion. Your eyes looked from Crosshair to Tech before giving your answer. “Yes. Yes, I would very much enjoy an evening with you.”

Crosshair flicked his toothpick into a nearby bin. He leaned in and gripped your chin, “You’re in for a treat princess. Tech? Explain the rules to her.”

As he turned to walk away, Tech leaned back in, brushing his nose from your hairline down to the delicate dip where your neck and shoulder meet. He pulled down the collar of your body glove enough to expose the soft skin where he began to kiss you. You gasped. His mouth felt incredible. What started light and soft ended with him leaving his mark.

“Just follow my directions, cyare, and you will experience the greatest pleasure you will ever know,” he murmured.

************

When you arrived back on Kamino, the boys sent you ahead to the barracks while they headed to the medical bay for the regular check in and check up from the Kaminoans. The silence in the room was only broken by the Kaminoan rain tapping on the windows. As you moved about arranging equipment and settling in, your mind wandered to Tech and Crosshair. Ever since your conversation, you’d noticed they’d been more affectionate. A hand in the small of your back, a tap on the chin, breathing in your scent in tight spaces; and every show of affection sent you spiraling deeper into your feelings for them.

Tech had implied he’d arranged something with Hunter that would give the three of you privacy in the barracks at some point. The thought brought flutters to your chest. The anticipation was torturous, and just imagining what Cross and Tech had planned for you caused you to ache. Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door hissing open. You were surprised to see Tech entering alone.

“Well, cyare. Are you ready? Hunter and Wrecker have previous engagements elsewhere. We agreed we should make the most of the time alone,” he purred as he leaned on his workbench.

“And Cross?” You glanced at the door waiting for him to stroll in with his signature swagger.

“He will join us later. We have already discussed it. You are mine right now. Next time he will have the honor of doing this. Of preparing you.”

His words sent you reeling. You are mine right now. The possessiveness of his tone sent your heart racing and made you ache more in the deepest depths of your core.

“Do you mind if I record us? I would thoroughly enjoy rewatching to identify what exactly makes you come completely unraveled. For next time.” He tapped the recording device on his goggles.

“Next time?” Your breath hitched, “There’s…there’s going to be a next time?”

“Assuming you are pleased with our performance, yes. We would like this to be a recurring experience. Both together and individually. Our attraction to you does traverse the physical into the emotional. I thought that was obvious.”

A soft whimper escaped you before you answered, “Yes, of course you can record this Tech.”

He nodded, removing the last of his armor, leaving him standing before you in his blacks. He reached his hand out to you, a gesture that was far more chivalrous than you’d anticipated for the evening. You accepted his outstretched hand and he guided you to Crosshair’s bunk. You began to undress, but he stopped you.

“Allow me, mesh’la. I would like to take this moment alone to appreciate you.”

Piece by piece he stripped you down to nothing, kisses trailing behind the shed garments. You closed your eyes, relishing in the feeling of his soft lips brushing over your body. He studied you; his hands learned you. His touch was soft and gentle as he traced your features,placing kisses on all of your exposed skin. You cupped his cheeks and pulled him in, your tongue teasing at his lips, begging for entry. His kisses were methodical like everything he did. He was testing, experimenting with different techniques, seeing what you liked. Paying attention to your body language and adjusting accordingly. However, while every move was deliberate, there was a gentle reverence there as well. He stroked and nuzzled and caressed. He guided you to the bunk, he leaned against the head of the bed and settled you between his legs.

As you reclined in his lap, you felt so vulnerable and yet safe. His fingertips wandered your naked body as he placed kisses all along your neck.

“Relax cyar’ika. You spend all your time caring for us. Allow me to care for you.” The rumble of his voice in his chest spurred on the heat growing between your legs. You sighed a soft whine and he smiled, “It would seem you find my touch pleasurable already.”

Just the sound of his voice had your pussy clenching, “Oh stars, Tech. Please don’t stop.”

“I had not planned on it,” his lips brushed your ear as he spoke, sending chills across your body. You reached behind you and clasped your hand to the back of his neck, grasping the hair at the nape. He growled in response to your touch, a new sound you’d not heard from him before but certainly wanted to hear again.

His hands continued to wander until they settled on your breasts. His deft fingers moved and played with your nipples with the same skill and agility you’d seen used while he tinkered under the control panel of the Marauder. The feeling of the soft concentric circles he was drawing pulled a lewd groan from you as you arched your back.

“Fascinating,” was all he said as he continued his ministrations with one hand and trailed the other to between your legs. You were dripping wet already, yearning for relief. You spread your legs more hoping to entice him. He ran his finger softly along your folds, you bucked your hips chasing the pleasure his fingers brought. He hummed, “All in good time, darling. All in good time. Maker, you are so wet already. I am, admittedly, a little jealous that Crosshair gets to eat your pussy tonight. But that does not mean I cannot taste you now.”

He traced your sex a few more times, admiring it. His other hand left your breast, trailing lightly down your torso to your folds to spread you open. He dipped a finger inside you slowly, swirling and thrusting. He brought the finger to his mouth groaning at the taste of you, his cock twitching beneath his blacks. You inhaled sharply. His touch was divine and you didn’t want him to stop.

“Mmm you appear to enjoy the feeling of my fingers, cyar’ika. Shall I do that again?” He ghosted over your pussy, teasing with a featherlight touch.

“Oh by the Force,Tech…” you mewled, “yes, please do that again.”

He hummed, sliding two digits into you next. His dexterous fingers reached that glorious spot inside of you, pulling a filthy moan from deep within.

“Mmmm, yes, I notice this spot–” Tech pressed again, eliciting another lewd sound from you, “–is one I would like to investigate more later. Perhaps, when we are alone again?”

He had rendered you speechless and all you could manage was a sharp nod and a weak “uh huh” as he toyed with you.

The door hissed open again as Crosshair strolled inside. “How’s our little kitten, Tech?”

His smokey voice caused your pussy to clench around Tech’s fingers. “Based on the reaction she is having to your voice, I’d say she is eager and ready.”

Crosshair grinned as he removed his armor, “Mmm. ‘s shame I won’t be doing much talking this time around.” He looked at you, “Tech does enough talking for the both of us. Hope you don’t mind, princess.”

Your chest heaved, out of breath already from the teasing Tech had been putting you through, “I think I’ll manage. I do love hearing Tech talk.”

Crosshair lithely climbed onto the foot of his bunk. He hooked your knees over his shoulders, his eyes lust-filled and his erection pressing against his blacks. He began nibbling and licking the inside of your legs, working his way to your core. For a while Tech continued with his fingers inside of you. He was skillful and his ability to learn quickly meant he’d found nearly every spot inside of you that caused you to fall apart around his hands. However, as Crosshair approached your core, he looked up at Tech and gave him a sharp nod. Tech removed his fingers from your aching pussy, and you whined now feeling empty without him.

“Shhh, Crosshair will take care of you, beautiful.” He sucked his fingers clean once again as Crosshair began licking your outer folds.

You bucked your hips and groaned as Cross moved painfully slowly across you. He alternated licking and sucking your folds with biting the inside of your thighs, leaving purple marks in his wake. Crosshair was needy and aggressive, a stark contrast to Tech’s gentle and methodical approach. He gripped your thighs plunging his tongue deep inside of you, fueled by the moaning, mewling mess it made you. Tech brought his mouth to one of your nipples. As his tongue teased you, you felt yourself approaching your climax.

“I..uhgn…I’m so close..”

Crosshair looked up, meeting Tech’s eyes, communicating something only the two of them understood. Tech immediately eased up on his ministrations. You whined at the abrupt halt to his rhythmic play.

“I am sorry darling. Crosshair wants to enjoy you a little longer and should I continue at that pace you would orgasm far sooner than he would like.” He pressed a kiss to your lips. He still tasted like you. His lips then moved to your neck, kissing, sucking, biting as his hands caressed you. Tech handled you with the same care he handled the Marauder, while Crosshair was unyielding and harsh. He was holding you so tightly you’d have bruises later.

Crosshair growled, devouring you like you were a fine meal. His face glistened with your slick as he pulled back to slide his slender finger inside you, first one and then two. He was rough with his mouth, but his fingers moved as they did across the trigger of his beloved rifle.

As he found his own rhythm, his tongue moved to your clit. The sudden sensation forced a squeal from you. You felt Crosshair smile against you and picked up his pace, sucking and kissing your clit, stoking the fire within. He growled as he felt your walls fluttering around his fingers. The shameless moans of his name and gyration of your hips told him your climax was fast approaching and he was ready to guide you to the precipice.

Tech rumbled, “It would seem Cross is ready for you to finish, and so am I.”

Your hips bucked into Crosshair’s face as his tongue flicked across your sensitive bud and his fingers caressed the same spot Tech had investigated earlier with his sniper’s precision. You careened over the edge as Tech covered your mouth to stifle your involuntary scream of Crosshair’s name. After working you through your peak he sat up looking rather pleased with himself, your slick covering his mouth and hands.

“How are you doing, pretty thing?” Crosshair cooed with a softness he kept tightly locked away as he kissed all the marks he’d left on your thighs.

“I’m excellent,” you huffed, catching your breath.

“Think you’re up for round two?” Crosshair ran a calloused hand softly along your leg.

“Absolutely.” You leaned toward him and stroked his cheek, “I knew you were a softie, Cross.”

He rolled his eyes before planting a soft kiss on your palm. “Don’t tell Hunter.”

***********

“On your knees.” The commanding timbre of Tech’s voice sent a blazing heat to your core as you repositioned yourself onto all fours. Crosshair freed himself from his blacks first. He was swollen, hard, and throbbing as he ached to be consumed by you.

“Oh Cross. So. Big. I’m gonna swallow all of you,” you whined, eager to have him in your mouth.

Crosshair reclined back, eyes blown with lust. You licked your lips as you eyed the precum glistening at his velvety tip.

“Go ahead, cyare. He’s ready,” Tech encouraged.

You crawled toward Crosshair, catching his gaze. You licked him from base to tip, pressing the flat of your tongue against his head, lapping up the precum. You began swirling your tongue around the ridge of his head as you kneaded his muscular thighs. Crosshair groaned and grabbed a handful of your hair. You released the tip and began licking him from base to tip again, interspersed occasionally with kisses and a graze of teeth. Crosshair moaned and gripped your hair tighter as you took him in your mouth. You almost gagged as he brushed the back of your throat. You paused to relax, to take him all in. Slowly you began to bob your head and soon Crosshair exceeded your pace, gyrating and bucking his hips, his fingers tangling in your locks as he fucked your mouth. Your name was a prayer on his tongue that he quietly yet devoutly recited.

Tech brushed the tip of his cock against your folds and in spite of your mouth being full of Crosshair, he heard the sinful sounds coming from you. He teased you with the tip just as he had with his fingers earlier. You tried to rock your hips backward into him, needing him to fill you up. You felt empty and desperate for him. He placed his hand on your hips to steady you as he slowly sheathed himself. The stretch around him was perfect. You felt his every ridge rubbing against your walls, and you instinctively rocked into him. Tech slowly pulled out leaving only the tip and thrust again, his own sinful sounds intensifying.

“So amazing…perfect for us. Perfect for me. You take me so well mesh’la. You’re so wet…hng…so tight. Such a good girl… your mouth is taking Crosshair so well, pretty girl.”

Tech quickly matched Crosshair’s pace and intensity. Had you not been so lost in the throes of ecstasy you probably would have joked that you resembled a rotisserie nuna. The feel of Tech running his hands the length of your back had you falling apart. You lost track of time as the room was filled with the wanton moans of all three of you as well as the sound of Tech’s thighs slapping against your backside. When Crosshair’s rhythm began to become irregular you cupped his balls, toying with and massaging him drawing sounds from him you hadn’t even known were possible.

“Cross is going to finish now, love. I need your mouth free so you can use your words for me,” you heard Tech croon as he rubbed your back encouragingly.

Crosshair shuddered, a final gutteral moan of your name fell from his lips. You eagerly swallowed all he had to give you. He leaned in, cradling your chin and pulled you in for a kiss filled with warmth and affection.

Tech wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you against his chest, “Do you want Crosshair to play with your breasts while I fuck you, darling?”

“Y-yes. Yes, please,” you breathlessly mewled as you reached back and locked your fingers behind Tech’s neck.

“Good girl,” Tech growled into your ear, resuming his steady thrusting.

Crosshair ran the calloused pads of his thumbs over your nipples, a pleased sigh leaving him as they pebbled under his touch. Your head lolled back resting on Tech’s chest and he took the opportunity to capture your lips in an impassioned kiss. Crosshair cupped your breasts, massaging them as he took a nipple in his mouth. His tongue drew concentric circles around one sensitive bud and his thumb mimicked the movement on the other. You felt the coil deep within you tightening, moaning their names as you felt yourself approaching another climax.

“Tech…Cross… I’m gonna…”

“Not yet, love,” Tech’s thrusts slowed and Crosshair pulled himself from your nipple with a pop. In a single swift motion Tech flipped you onto your back.

“Look at me, mesh’la. I have not seen enough of those exquisite eyes tonight. I want you looking at me when you cum.” His eyes were hungry as he met your gaze.

He crashed into your lips, tongue brushing against them, demanding access you readily granted him. He cupped your breast, flicking your nipple beneath his thumb. You bucked your hips into him, meeting his own steady thrusts. His cock hit the point of divinity yet again, over and over drawing obscene moans from you as he dragged his teeth over your neck.

“You are doing so well, cyare. Now, be a good girl. Tell us who you belong to, and I’ll let you cum. Look me in the eyes and tell me who you belong to,” Tech demanded as he caged you in on the bed, his thrusts becoming erratic.

You brought your palms to his cheeks, “Y-yours…oh maker…yours, Tech and Crosshair.”

“That’s our good girl,” Tech smiled before his lips collided with yours again, muffling the pornographic sounds of the two of you simultaneously reaching your climax and then riding it out together.

Tech rolled off of you and you rested your head on his chest, spent and coming down from your high. Crosshair brought a few towels over and some water. He settled in next to you pressing soft kisses to your shoulder as he whispered “Mine” over and over and tenderly cleaned you up.

Tech nuzzled into your ear, “I hope I have adequately proven now that I do, in fact, trust you.”

You huffed a chuckle leaning into his touch, “If all of this was to prove you trust me, it was a bit excessive. Not that I’m complaining but just letting me do my job would have sufficed.”

He drew a finger down your sternum, tracing the outline of your breasts, “Indeed, if this had been an exercise solely to prove I trust you it would have been excessive. However, that was not the sole purpose.”

“Go on,” you looked up at him inquisitively.

“Primarily this was because we, Crosshair and myself, have harbored deep-seated feelings of affection for you for quite some time. We felt it was time to act upon them.”

You reached over your shoulder running your fingers over Crosshair’s jaw, “That true, Cross?”

“Pretty much, kitten,” Crosshair purred into your hair as his hands ghosted along your curves.

You hummed contentedly, “I’m glad you did.”

“As much as we are loving the view, it would probably behoove you to dress as Wrecker and Hunter shall be returning soon. I do not wish to share this with them. You are ours,”

You sat up and turned to face them. You pulled Crosshair to you, pressing a fervent kiss to his lips before whispering, “I am yours…” against them. After pulling back, you followed suit with Tech, drawing your teeth across his bottom lip before whispering, “…and only yours” against his lips. Fortunately you dressed in record time because just as you finished Hunter and Wrecker returned.

***********

You’d settled onto the uncomfortable sofa with your datapad, Wrecker’s snoring overpowering the sound of the soldering Tech was still doing at his workbench. A soft brush of fingers across your shoulder pulled you from your reading. Crosshair stood beside you, refusing to make eye contact through his ever present scowl.

“Will…” he rolled his tongue along the inside of his cheek, “will you stay with me tonight?”

“I’d love to,” you whispered as you rose and followed him to his bunk. Before he climbed into bed you gave him a quick goose and a wink when he spun around to face you.

“Didn’t get enough earlier, huh?” He leaned in, pressing his temple to yours, “You’ll have to be a good girl and wait.”

You giggled and settled in next to him. His arms wrapped around you as he pressed his nose into your hair and soon he’d drifted into an unusually peaceful sleep.

You weren’t sure when you fell asleep but you awoke to Tech’s soft kiss to your forehead, “Apologies mesh’la. I did not mean to wake you. I just wanted one last kiss from my girl before finally retiring to my bunk.” He softly brushed your hair out of your face before leaning in for a more passionate kiss on the lips. “While you are sleeping in Cross's bed tonight, I shall be watching my recording of you,” he whispered against your lips. You clenched your thighs together, aroused knowing that Tech would be watching you all over again.

Tech settled into his bunk and pulled up the file. He was used to sharing a lot with Crosshair, but sharing you was still going to take some getting used to. At least his recordings were always of excellent quality.

Tag List Babes 💕: @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @sunshinesdaydream @dystopicjumpsuit @wings-and-beskar @starrylothcat @freesia-writes @blueink-bluesoul @littlemissmanga @mandos-mind-trick @808tsuika @stardusthuntress @sinfulsalutations @zaana

#the bad batch #anxiouspineapple99 writes #clone wars smut #smut smut smut #the bad batch smut #bad batch smut #crosshair smut #tech smut #tbb tech smut #tbb crosshair x reader #tbb tech x reader #x reader #clone thirsting #star wars smut #crosshair bad batch #tech bad batch

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fanfic-obsessed · 1 month

Text

The Force

This is another, ‘the Force is fucking with us right?’ Kind of idea that I feel like makes up about half my ideas.

It starts just after Obi Wan Kenobi is beheaded on the death star. The Millenium Falcon has just exited the Death Star but has not jumped to hyperspace yet. The alarms have not quite rung when two things happen that derail the entire sequence of events.

First Obi Wan Kenobi and Cody (who had been on Alderaan when it was vaporized) appear, from apparently nowhere in front of Luke, Leia, and Han. They look like they did at the beginning of the Clone War (Obi Wan is still only just recognizable as Old Ben). The second is that Alderaan (and Scarif) reappeared, completely undamaged (I just want you to picture, for a moment, the operators and techs of the Death Star or anyone looking out of one of the viewports where the Planet they just vaporized-with all the detritus that entailed- reappeared unharmed). Though it was not known right away every single victim of the Empire from the Purge forward (including the Clones) have reappeared, spread out throughout Alderaan.

Every single one of them have all their memories up to their deaths. Those that had been dead for more than a month also have some idea of what has happened since their death (taking into account age, mindset, and how traumatic the knowledge would be for them).

Everyone is still very confused.

On the Millenium Falcon, they do not jump to hyperspace because they are too busy gawking at the two men that just appeared (and everyone on board, barring the formerly dead men, is asking themselves some version of -does The Force work like that?). Then they notice that there suddenly is a planet where there had been a debris field.

Feeling more than a little bewildered, Han hesitantly begins to fly toward the planet and in the background CodyWan reunites after twenty years of believing the other was dead. They are guided to the Royal landing pad by a few shaken techs who will be asking for a vacation and a raise.

Onboard the Death Star, the low level techs consider if they should call Darth Vader? Should they call the Emperor? Fire again (It would take time for the weapon to charge and no one is really sure a second shot would do anything if the planet was reconstituted the first time)?

Vader is still down in the hallways of the ship, feeling anticlimactic victory over Obi Wan’s robes and well away from any viewport when suddenly the Force is feeling much…fuller? Then it had been a few moments before. The screaming that had been deafening since Alderaan’s destruction quieted and the crying he had been perceiving since killing the younglings had ebbed.

On of the comm techs hesitantly (so hesitantly, their speech was all full of all umms and errrs and they really hope that they do not piss Darth Vader enough for him to hunt the tech down-it would not be the first time something like that had happened) tells him that there was a Padme Amidala calling from the planet demanding to talk to him.

Vader manages to get out that she should be patched through. A large part of him is going PADME!!!!!!! A smaller part is going ‘there’s no planet here any longer?’

The conversations start with Padme going “ANAKIN NO MIDDLE NAME SKYWALKER” in a very pissed off tone. It does not get better for Vader from there.

This is not the same Padme at the end of ROTS, who had gotten so caught up in being in a romance novel that she was smacked in the face with the third act twist of it turning into a horror story. This version of Padme has been watching for twenty years exactly what Anakin was doing, separated from her need to see the best in him. She is closer to her TPM self, and absolutely livid at Fascism done in her name. Padme is also, to her reckoning, back from the dead, about to meet her children for the first time, and possibly immortal (after what just happened…who knows).

Somehow Padme’s entire rant is broadcast throughout the Death Star. None of the stormtroopers know who this person is but they have a deep instinctual need to surrender (Even Tarkin does not recognize Padme after 20 years).

The Millenium Falcon lands on Alderaan. Leia grabs her parents and holds on, before anyone can say anything. Luke sees Owen and Beru (also brought back, and to Alderaan) and does the same. Obi Wan and Cody are off to one side holding each other (Obi Wan is basking in the Force being lighter than it has in 2 decades-though he does not know that rest of the Jedi are also back). Han hovering off to one side awkwardly.

Padme comes storming out, having just finished her…conversation with Anakin. Obi Wan jolted (being the only person currently paying attention who would recognize Padme-Also Bail and Breha had already had the ‘oh that kind of back from the dead’ realization). Padme strode right up to Obi wan and slapped him upside the head ‘that is for getting decapitated before telling my kids they were siblings’ then she hugged him.

After a long period of time, Luke and Leia separate enough from their adoptive parents to meet their mother. Also getting to realize that they were siblings.

After the current reuniting, and uniting, is over Padme says ‘Oh, Anakin will be coming down shortly, he has some things he needs to say’.

Obi Wan, the only other person who knows exactly who Anakin Skywalker is, goes ‘Padme…that may not be a good idea’

Padme gives a smile that could also double as a threat display, though not aimed at anyone present. ‘You need not worry, Obi Wan, Anakin will be spending the rest of his life making up for what he has done.’

For the first time Obi Wan considers that cutting off Anakin's limbs and leaving him to burn on the bank of a lava river was actually kinder than letting him face the full fury of Padme Amidala.

He did manage to communicate exactly who Anakin Skylwaker is. Thankful, at least, that Padme was there for the ‘Our father is Whom???’ Padme does reassure Leia that she did not have to be there and confront the person who tortured her and blew up her planet, but Anakin does owe them all at least one Apology. Leia promptly decides she would be there.

It is an Awkward set of meetings, not the least of which is because Mace Windu comes through with some of the formally murdered younglings (who all knew what they would be facing and wanted to confront their murderer). Vader (and he is still mostly Vader) is not sure why Padme Amidala is intimidating him, but he is going with it.

At some point someone brings up the Emperor. Padme makes that same smile, the threat display, and says that Palpatine should probably start running before she got to him. Far away Palpatine felt a chill along his spine…something had just gone very wrong.

There will be time to deal with the new metric ton of trauma. Seriously there are types of trauma that had never existed that they would have to develop therapy for. There are people to find places for that have been dead for twenty years. There is still an Empire to dismantle.

But for now there is a man who is arguably the second most evil person in the galaxy awkwardly apologizing to his daughter (unknown) for torturing her and blowing up her planet, her adoptive parents for blowing them up, a slew of children he murdered, as well as an entire planets worth of people (many of whom he owes a very personal apology-also probably some kind of compensation), with his 5’3” formerly dead wife looking on.

Even the Force has no idea how we got here.

#star wars #star wars au #obi wan kenobi #fanfiction prompt #anakin skywalker #codywan #sheev palpatine #anidala #star wars a new hope

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happy-beeeps · 8 months

Note

Hello there! My request is this: the reader wants to learn hand-to-hand combat but has a crush on Hunter and doesn’t know how to ask him. Omega helps the reader and the reader gets what she wants. On the first day of training she trips and lands on top of Hunter and fluff or smut happens. Up to you :)

hahahahaha heyyyyyy I'm so sorry this is so late. In good news, it got away from me and turned into 4k words of the softest smut I've written!!! I am in love with this man!!!!

(also if you're asking yourself if I was inspired by the top gun volleyball scene the answer is yes I was and no I won't apologize for it.)

Take My Breath Away

pairing: Hunter x f!reader

WC: 4k

MINORS DNI 18+ BELOW CUT

Warnings: p in v sex, fingering, first time, feelings confession, awkward reader

Summary: When Omega convinces Hunter to finally train you in combat, things don't go to plan... or do they?

You’re leering, you know it. You really can’t help it, your spot inside the Marauder has left you with a perfectly obscured view to watch the training exercises happening outside. There’s a box of medical supplies in your lap while you stare through the front viewport, watching Hunter and Tech team up against Echo and Wrecker as they practice hand-to-hand perfectly in your view.

Hunter has long forgone his long sleeve black shirt, his tattoos on full display as his skin bakes in the sun. It is hot, you supposed, but you assumed nearly every midday on Jakku got this warm. They’re all in various states of undress, grappling with each other with the kind of joyful fighting that reminds you of the village boys and their games back home.

Sweat beads roll off his chest in a slight pattern, and you can see through the viewport that he’s used his bandana as a makeshift tie, pulling his hair up into some kind of knot on the top of his head. Echo has gotten Tech into some kind of hold, and the latter is thrashing against him trying to wiggle his way out. Hunter, however, is practically glistening as he shoots Wrecker a grin while they circle one another, until his legs push against the coarse sand outside and he lunges for his younger brother’s legs. He must’ve gotten Wreck with an element of surprise because the larger clone actually tumbles a bit, his center of gravity thrown off. You can’t hear them from inside the ship, but from the looks on their faces you can tell they’re laughing. Echo seems to have succeeded in locking Tech down, and the four of them exchange shakes and smirks–and move to repeat the game.

Happiness looks good on him.

“Why are you watching Hunter again?” Omega’s small, but chipper, voice startles you from your daydream (something involving Hunter and his back that you’ll never tell.)

“Nothing! I’m not, not even watching him,” you stumble, trying desperately to make yourself look busy with the box in front of you. “I’ve gotta keep an eye on his injuries Meg, that's all.”

“But I thought you said he’d be better three rotations ago?”

She’s caught you now, and your face grows hot with the realization. “Well, yeah, of course. But still, as a medic, it’s my job to keep an eye on you all.”

You move to stand and ruffle her hair, toting the box on your hip as you move to go back to the med closet. You suppose you’ve done enough gawking for today.

“Are you red because you’re embarrassed about something?”

Now this makes you stop in your tracks. You whip your head to turn and face the young girl, who’s mouth smiles innocently at you while her eyes smirk knowingly. Kriff. You knew you shouldn't have let her start watching romcoms.

“I’m not embarrassed,” you start, still making your way to the closet while Omega follows closely behind. “I just don’t know any combat, so I’m watching to learn, it’s just embarrassing not to know.”

Nice. Good save. You’ll pat yourself on the back for that one later.

“Oh, that makes sense.” Is all you get from Omega, before you’re met with the sound of her feet moving down the walkway. You’re left alone with your thoughts, idylly shuffling supplies around the closet, delving back to your daydream. Minutes pass like this, in quiet peace, before a rough, masculine voice snaps you back to reality.

“Hey,” Hunter starts, leaning against the doorframe that separates the main cabin from the armory and med closet. He’s not shirtless anymore, instead wearing a mockingly thin white tank top that’s becoming less and less opaque the more his chest is pressed against it. “Omega said you wanted to learn some moves?”

Sure enough, Omega stands behind Hunter, arms crossed proudly as she looks between the two of you. “She’s important Hunter, she has to learn!” The younger girl shouts, and Hunter smiles down at her.

“Sure she is. That’s why I’m gonna teach her,” he looks up at you now with questioning eyes, “that is, if you’re interested? Tech is gonna bring Echo and Wrecker on a supply run for a few hours, so you don’t have to worry about them?”

“Y-yeah, that sounds great.” Maker, is that stumbling voice yours? This is getting worse by the minute.

“Hunter, can I go with? Tech said the market is no worse than Mos Eisley, and you let me go there, Wrecker already said he’d watch me!” Omega pleads with her big brother, pulling at his fingers in a subtle gesture to lead the two of you outdoors.

“Sure, Meg. If it’s fine with them, it’s fine with me.”

* * *

Your body aches, your joints cracking with each move. You’ve barely even begun the training, merely the warmups Hunter has put you through in this scorching heat has gotten you coated in your own layer of sweat. He moved through each warm up with ease, and finished his last stretch lazily, leaning his weight on his back leg and placing his hands firmly on his hips. It took nearly everything in you not to stare at him, his shirt back on but replaced by a mockingly thin white tank top that grew less opaque with every passing moment.

“Thought you said you wanted to learn?” His voice brought you back out of your daydream, reminding you exactly why you were standing here. You had gone this long without him really knowing your feelings, aside from the simple flirtation the two of you shared to pass the time. One afternoon wouldn’t kill you.

“Thought you said we’d start slow,” you grumble in reply, moving to face him with an agitated determination.

He doesn’t give you a verbal response, merely moving to stand behind you, placing his hands and your shoulders before reaching them across to grab your wrists. “I’m gonna put you in the first stance,” he says, moving his hands, and your wrists, up to a blocking motion before kicking one of his feet between your legs. With gentle, albeit rough, taps to each foot, your legs slowly shuffled wider apart, granting you more stability on the sandy terrain. The motion of him slowly spreading your legs open, however, had the complete opposite effect, and your stomach dropped nearly to your toes as your chest flutters with warmth. This was exactly why you hadn’t asked for help in the first place.

“Looks good,” he started, moving back to face you. “Now, when you punch, you’re not just pushing your fist out, right? You’re punching with your whole arm, try hitting my hand.”

“But, I don’t want to hurt you!” You sputtered, and his lazy, easy smile returned.

“Trust me, you won’t.”

You pass nearly an hour like this, moving to punch Hunter with as much force as you could muster, and him blocking you with ease. It’s not that you were weak by any means, you wouldn’t have lasted as the Batch’s medic if you were, but this kind of strength was foreign to you. You were slipping, growing more tired by the moment. Your punches slowly falter. Finally, as the heat and the exertion caught up to you, your legs followed the swing of your arm, sending you toppling your whole weight onto Hunter.

He too must’ve begun feeling the heat, as his normally subvert reflexes failed him. Your weight and his surprise sent the two of you toppling onto the sand, his arms reaching to cup your elbows, carefully guiding you to land on his chest. The sweat on both of your skin made the two of you sticky, and your thin shirt did little to hide the flush of your chest as you pressed against his toned body. Hunter also seemed to be responding to the moment, his eyes opening and closing rapidly, his chest rising and falling with increasing speed.

Maker. You hadn’t thought about how awful you must’ve smelled.

“I’m sorry Hunter, I’m sure I smell-“

“Great,” he gritted out, you assumed his tone was dripping in sarcasm. Your wince must not have garnered the response he was hoping for, and his eyes widened in panic. “No, no, I mean it. Kriff, that’s not what I meant.”

“No, it’s fine, it’s warm out here, don’t mention it,” you shook awkwardly, moving to push off of him. Instead, Hunter’s grip on the backs of your arms tightened to hold you in place.

“I mean it,” he murmurs, “you’ve been driving me crazy all day.”

You blink in surprise as that warm feeling from before returns, and you resist the urge to press yourself against him even further.

“What, just because I’m a slow learner?” you blush and shake your head, trying to hide your face from the intensity of his stare, and the overbearing Jakku sun.

“Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?”

“That,” he removes one hand from its spot on your arm to tug your chin back at him, his eyes falling to your lips for the briefest moment before coming back to yours, “hide from me.”

Your response is quiet, timid. “Because you don’t mean it.”

“Why would you think that? We’ve kind of been toeing around it for weeks now.”

You’re sputtering now, “I thought you were joking.”

“I don’t joke when it comes to you,” something akin to hurt flashes across his eyes, and his grip on your arms loosens slightly. Kriff. You’re losing him now, and the panic that settles in your chest takes over before your brain can properly think its way out of it.

You’re fully pressing your breasts against him now, relenting the rest of your weight onto him as your arms snake their way to his face and you pull him towards you before he has a chance to feel any more hurt at your expense. Your lips crash to his in a kiss that’s equal parts full of reassurance and want, and he molds against you quickly. Whatever doubt and hurt he might’ve felt a moment ago is replaced by something darker, something needier.

Hunter adjusts you on top of him easily, pulling you up and wrapping your legs around his waist. When you pull away from the kiss you watch as he brings your legs tighter around his waist and, with little struggle, manages to stand up against the sand, never dropping you from your perch.

You try not to go faint at the way his leg muscles tense beneath the rolled up cuffs of his pants as he lifts the two of you from the ground with ease. Hunter has always been scrappy, never as much bulk as Wrecker but easily the second largest of his brothers. Echo used to joke that what he lacked in height he made up for in muscle mass.

You can’t stop yourself from leaning in to him, placing needy open mouth kisses along the curve of his neck, the sharp edges of his jaw. He groaned at your touch, his steps quickening towards the Marauder. There’s a break as he fidgets with the controls to lower the ramp and it starts its painstakingly slow descent. In a fit of impatience, Hunter has your back pressed against the side of the ship and moves to kiss you again, this time it’s bruising and impatient. He’s been wanting this just as long as you, you realize. Whatever the door the two of you just opened isn’t going to be easily shut.

He’s methodical with the way he kisses you, but his hands are anything but. He pulls teasing tugs at your lower lip, slowly parts your mouth with his tongue–like he’s testing something.

“Hunter,” you beg, turning your head from him in a feeble gesture to get him to notice that the ramp has lowered.

“I’ve just wanted to kiss you for so long,” he admits, a tenderness in his eyes that your stomach doing backflips, “I don’t think I can ever stop.”

He walks to the two of you up the ramp of the ship before setting you down gently in the hull. You’re staring up at him now, his hands resting on the small of your back, keeping you close.

“You tell me what’s too much cyar’ika. I’ll take whatever part of you you’ll give me.”

“All, all of me. I’m not afraid.” You murmur, pressing yourself against him before leaning to loop your arms around his neck.

He meets you halfway to kiss you, albeit gentler than before, before turning you and moving you backwards with small steps. You know this ship like the back of your hand, even backwards and with your eyes closed, and you can tell from the way he’s moving you that you’re moving towards his quarters.

“We can go to my room?” You ask, breathless. They had graciously turned the small medbay into a space for your quarters, of sorts. You had a larger bed than any member of the batch, with the caveat that your roommates were small surgical machines and overflow boxes of bacta.

“No, want you in my bed, if that’s ok?”

You nodded while he continued to guide you towards the rest of the batch’s quarters, your vision becoming shaded from the darkness of the room. You were grateful now that Hunter’s bunk was on the bottom, as the backs of your legs bumped into the mattress.

He laid you down on the mattress and quickly stretched across you, giving you full freedom to remove your arms from his neck and let them roam against the broad expanse of his back. His kisses met your neck almost as soon as he settled on the mattress, and from the way his teeth nipped at the soft skin, you knew you’d be littered with marks.

Whatever. You’re sure they’d pick up on it eventually.

Your thoughts were interrupted as Hunter pulled you up towards him, using the space to pull your shirt off and discard it on the floor, leaving you in the thin cottony breastband you’d picked specifically because it was too hot to even think about something better. You, in turn, pulled at the hem of the thin white tank top, and he smirked at you as he moved back, pulling it up over his head. There was enough space between the bunks for him to sit comfortably upright, and you moved forward to meet him, bringing his hands to your waist.

“It’s too hot for all these layers.”

If he was surprised he barely showed it, raising an eyebrow before moving to unfasten your breastband, leaving the two of you bare from the waist up.

“Mesh’la, I can’t… I can’t stop.”

“Then don’t.” You smiled, leaning back on his mattress, watching his form cage you in.

His response was immediate, falling closer to you and moving his kisses farther down your neck before moving to bring his mouth to your breast, now bare to him. His lips dragged over your newly exposed flesh, before his tongue flattened over the stiff peak of your nipple.

He wasted no time in palming your other breast, and the briefest glance you got of your skin beneath his inked fingers was enough to elicit the smallest of whimpers from your mouth. He paused from his work on your nipple to glance up at you, before sending a devilish grin as his hand removed itself from your chest and made small movements towards your thighs. With a quick and decisive movement he placed his hand just on the squishy flesh of your inner thigh, before hooking a finger around the seam of your panties and shifting them down.

You jostled a bit to help them come off and Hunter surged to kiss you again, his breath warm and inviting on your mouth. In an instant you let out a soft gasp as his fingers began to move towards your folds, before he slowly pushed two fingers into your heat.

The feeling of being filled in any capacity by him immediately sent warmth flooding to every corner of your body, and you bucked your hips against him as he moved his fingers in a delicious hooking motion, pulling you closer and closer to oblivion with each movement.

“So warm for me, so wet.” He grumbled against your neck, and your hands threaded through his hair, desperate to keep his body against yours.

“Hunter, need you, now.”

“Shh,” he murmured, moving faster, and a twisting in your feeling in your gut suddenly struck, along with the realization that you were quickly approaching an orgasm. “Come for me first, princess. Need to make you feel good first.”

His words and motions combined sent that first orgasm crashing over you fast, the tips of your fingers and the lower half of your body shaking in pleasure while he took his sweet time, coaxing every bit of your oblivion out of you in slow, melodic motions. When you had come back down to earth, he pulled his hand from you before bringing it to his mouth, bringing his fingers to his mouth and tasting you finally.

“Next time you’re finishing on my tongue,” he groaned, head thrown back. You took his momentary distraction to pull at the band of his boxers, already eyeing the deliciously thick silhouette of his hard length pressing against the fabric.

“Hunterrr,” you whined, leaning up and pressing kisses from his collarbone down his chest, before deciding you couldn’t take it anymore and plunging your hand into his boxers, running your hand up and down the velvety skin of his shaft. You paused at the tip, running your fingers over it and collecting the precum already leaking out.

“Need to learn some patience,” he groaned, before shifting to pull the last offending article of clothing off, and pressing you firmly, and softly to the mattress. With his boxers gone you could see him now. He was big, bigger than any man you’d been with before, and prettier too. The inky black markings of his tattoos led down his whole torso, pausing just at the start of his shaft. It was one of the few spots on his body where you could admire every inch of tanned, warm skin.

Hunter moved down to kiss you, this one sweet and short, running a hand down your core to collect some of the mess he’d already made of you, before running it along his length. He leaned back and looked at you, his eyes warming with a fondness that suddenly had you feeling more naked now than you had this entire time.

“You take my breath away,” he murmured in a voice dripping with an emotion you weren’t bold enough to try and name, before picking up one of your legs and easily tossing it over your shoulder. “You’ve been my dream this whole time. Wanna make sure you’re ready.”

“Hunter,” you paused, reaching a hand up to his cheek, “if you don’t fuck me now, I’m going to go catatonic.”

His laugh had your leg shaking, and he rolled his eyes, “remind me to fuck some manners into you next time.”

Without any more pretense you felt his tip surge past your walls, stretching you out deliciously and giving a sense of satisfaction greater than anything you’d felt before. He pushed farther before bottoming out and nudging just right against that spot you’d always struggled to reach. The same one that had you tossing one arm over your eyes and another grasping at nothing out of pure bliss. His name breathed past your lips like a prayer, and you felt him shiver a bit at it.

“Fuck, that’s my girl.” He moaned, starting his thrusts at a slow, manageable pace. You felt one of his hands slide up the sheets on his mattress before sliding and weaving his fingers between yours. “Don’t hide from me.” He whispered, and you brought your arm down, placing it firmly on the bicep he was using to support himself against you.

He felt fucking amazing. You had met a guy in an alley on Coruscant who tried to sell you deathsticks once, and you felt like you had to go back and tell him he was wrong. There had to be a better high. Being fucked into your pillows by Hunter while he held your hand and whispered to you had to be better. You weren’t a scientist (ok, maybe you were) but this had to be the best feeling a human being could feel.

Hunter’s pace quickened, and soon the cabin was filled with the sickeningly sweet sound of skin slapping against skin, his hips snapping against you. His senses must’ve made him perfectly attuned to how you were feeling, any shift in pleasure, any barely audible moan. His hand had removed itself from yours, instead holding your wrist and pressing you firmly into the bed in a move that felt more possessive and dominant than threatening.

“You’re mine.” You had moaned without realizing it, and his pace picked up again. A twisting, numbing feeling began to blossom in your core and Hunter brought your leg down, surging forward to kiss you as he fucked you farther into oblivion.

“You’re my girl, you’ve always been my girl.” He groaned into your neck before pulling back. “Just been waiting for you to realize it. I wanna hear you say it.”

“You’re mine, I’m yours.” You groaned, his hips bucking up and nudging again and again into that spot. His hand removed itself from your wrist and you used the newfound freedom to rake your hands down your back, sending moans of pleasure out of Hunter.

“I’m all yours princess,” he groaned, “so sweet, so soft for me. Fuck, so tight.”

His praise and words and breakneck speed had you hitting your orgasm like a brick wall, turning you from head to toe in a shivering, gasping mess as your walls clenched around him. You gripped his hair in a desperate attempt to tether yourself to something corporeal as he fucked you through it, his own pace becoming quick and sloppy.

“‘M close, where,” was all he was able to rasp out.

“In, ‘s okay.” Was the closest thing you had to a response. You’d tell him about your implant later.

In an instant, he was groaning into your neck, his hips slapping against yours sending you nearly into sensory overload, before you felt his warmth against you. For a moment after he barely moved, just breathed against you as if he couldn’t imagine this had actually happened. The two of you stayed like that for a moment, you running a hand along his back and through his hair as he pressed sweet kisses along your neck, likely trying to soften the purple marks you were certain he had left.

“Lemme get you cleaned up,” he whispered, as if careful not to scare the moment away. He pulled back from you slowly, before reaching to tug his pants back on and heading to the fresher. He was only gone for a few moments, returning with a warm, wet rag that he lovingly dashed between your legs and a pair of clean shorts from your quarters and one of his shirts.

“Thought you might want something comfortable.” He said as he passed it to you, and you quickly changed into it, relishing into how the shirt smelled so distinctly of him.

You moved to sit up but he toppled in bed next to you before you could. His bunk was small, barely enough space for the two of you, so he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his chest.

“Don’t go. Meant what I said.”

You blushed as you shimmied to turn your face to him. “Which part?”

“All of it. I’ve always wanted you. Not just for, you know,” he stumbled, seeming suddenly embarrassed.

“Sex?”

“Yeah, but I’m not gonna complain about that part,” he winked, before pulling you into him again, resting his head on top of yours. “I want to… care for you. In every way. You really take my breath away, always have.” He pressed a kiss against your hair, and you pressed closer to him in return.

“Then you’ll have me. For as long as I’m here and then some.”

The two of you stayed like this into the night, wrapped up in each other’s arms, tangled limb to limb. Soon enough the lull of his heart had drifted you into sleep, and he did his best to shield you from the prying eyes and loud noises of the rest of the Batchers as they returned from the market, just as he swore to himself that he’d shield you from anything that threatened to take you from them, from him.

His girl he had said. And he had meant it.

#star wars #hunter bad batch #hunter x reader #tbb hunter x reader #hunter x you #hunter #tbb hunter #tbb hunter x you #tbb fic #tbb #the bad batch #the bad batch x reader #requests!

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corazondebeskar-reads · 3 months

Text

nobody is coming to save you

Din Djarin x f!reader

originally for Febuwhump 2024 Day 14 - blood-stained tiles | Febuwhump masterlist

words: 1.4k

summary: You get caught by a Mandalorian bounty hunter after fleeing your marriage.

-- am I really a Din fic writer if I don't do a "reader is a bounty" story?

warnings: ambiguous/open ending (I may return to this one...), reader attempts to negotiate for her life, discussions of pregnancy/abortion/menstrual cycles (reader had an abortion, it's discussed without detail, do NOT come at me with discourse I will not engage anyway), mentions of blood, allusions to abuse

dividers by @saradika-graphics

“Nobody is coming to save you. Get up.”

The words fell flat through the distortion of his helmet. Was it pity? Amusement? Disgust? He wasn’t wrong, though. The crowd that had suffocated the market lane moments before had mostly cleared in the wake of the Mandalorian.

He stalks over to where you’re still sprawled on the ground. It didn’t seem urgent to get up, to make it easier for him. With a huge gloved hand digging into your bicep, he pulls.

You go limp. You’re not going to help him, and you’re fairly confident he doesn’t have authorization to kill or seriously harm you.

You’re vindicated when he holsters the pistol, not that it’s a pleasant victory. He cuffs your wrists in front of your stomach and then simply hoists you over his shoulder.

“Where’s the cargo?” he asks.

This close, you can almost hear the grit of his real voice beneath the electronics.

You mean to ignore him, but his question is a thread that needs pulling. “What cargo?”

“He said you stole something from him.”

His words churn your stomach like rancid Bantha. That worm. “Well, you’ve got it,” you say bluntly.

He doesn’t question it, and you assume he’s clocked the ostentatious jewelry as the target. Trev always did like you shiny, whether with gemstones or tears.

He’s probably a little rougher with you than he should be, given that you’re not running anymore. But he’s a bit kriffed over the whole situation. He only took the bounty because the price was so high — but not being allowed to carbon freeze the bounty was almost not worth it.

But the client wanted his pretty little wife back without the side effects, and he was willing to compensate for it. He had said she could be restrained or gagged as needed. Had said Din would probably want to since the “bitch never shut up.”

It wasn’t his job to give a shit, so he didn’t. He did figure the client’s name would come across a puck sooner rather than later, though. Whatever he was peddling to afford this had the man under severe paranoia.

He drops you to your feet at the bottom of the ladder and nudges you with the barrel of the pistol. “Climb up and wait. Don’t touch anything.”

He expects an argument, given that you both know the blaster is mostly a farce. He’d be willing to take a cut on the fee if you tried anything, though. A bolt to the foot wouldn’t kill you.

But you don’t. You climb in silence, with him close enough behind that your bodies overlap. You’re acutely aware of his helmet’s proximity to your ass, and he’s acutely aware that it’s been too long since he paid a visit to a brothel.

He doesn’t manhandle you once he crests the platform to the cockpit; just jabs a finger in the direction of the seat to the left of the pilot’s chair. It sits slightly behind, the viewport partially obscured. He separates the cuffs and magnetizes them to the arms of the chair.

The engines rumble to life once he’s seated, switches flicked, and buttons pressed in the wake of his deft fingers. He doesn’t speak a word to you.

When Karga answers the comm, he interrupts the man’s pleasantries to get right to the point. “I’m confirming the status of the bounty as requested. She’s alive and in custody.”

“Excellent, excellent; I knew you’d make quick work of it, Mando,” Karga says, clapping his hands together. The holo flickers. “The client has requested that you avoid hyperspace travel upon your return.”

“What?” Din snaps.

“There’s extra compensation in it for you, of course.”

“That’ll take eight standard days,” Din gripes.

“Your expenses will be covered, as well. Food, fuel, any lodging.”

“Fine,” Din says and closes the line. He sits in silence for a moment, sifting through the new information, before he stands abruptly and turns to you.

“You’re pregnant,” he says bluntly.

You dither about how to respond. In the end, you don’t. He can’t be trusted. So you purse your lips and look away.

No one needs to know that the first thing you did when you got far enough away was fork over one of your bracelets for a termination at a no-questions-asked clinic. They had been kind, if not overworked and undersupplied.

“That’s what you stole, isn’t it? His baby?”

You don’t say anything, but you don’t back down from his gaze, either. His baby. The phrasing sets off so many warning bells it’s like a ship-wide alert.

Din’s first instinct is anger. It’s too close to his own gaping wound, too close to where Grogu lives with Luke Skywalker, a man who hadn’t even given Din his name before taking his kid. And yeah, he’s supposed to feel like he did the right thing, but his son is gone, and it doesn’t feel like the right thing. Not at all.

He looks at you and wonders how you could be so cruel.

It doesn’t last, though. He’s seen enough to know the way this story usually goes. So, instead, he looks you over and sighs. “I’ll see what we can do for other accommodations,” he says, a loose hand gesturing to the cuffs.

“Thank you,” you say, though you don’t feel very thankful at all. But you know a little politeness to your captor goes a long way. You know that like you know how to breathe.

It works until it doesn’t. On the fourth day, you wake up at the inn he had agreed to for the night and smell iron, and you know the ruse is up. You try to sneak to the fresher but quickly realize it doesn’t matter. You have nothing to hold back the blood, anyway.

You sit in your soiled panties on the cold metal tile and resign yourself to free bleed until he inevitably wakes and finds you.

You don’t wait long.

“We’re not far from a clinic,” he says cautiously, from where he leans against the doorframe.

“Don’t need one,” you mumble, looking anywhere but him. It’s bad enough that you couldn’t come up with an explanation—knowing you’ve bled through enough that he can see it is on another level.

“You don’t know that,” he says with what you think he thinks is compassion. “There might still be something they can do.”

The truth flickers across your face for only a moment, but it’s long enough for him to catch on.

“It’s your cycle,” he says, flat and loyal to his thoughts.

You nod. No use lying now.

“Were you ever pregnant?”

“Yes.” Your voice is clipped, your face pulled sharp.

“How long since?”

“Two weeks after I got away. Six before you found me.”

Two months. You had made it two terrifying months on your own. And now, thanks to this monster, you were being dragged right back.

Trev had to have spent a fortune on this bounty. You feel feverish at the thought, a cold sweat creeping across your spine. And when he finds out you’re not pregnant…

Wait.

“You know, you won’t get your money,” you blurt, hardening your eyes as you stare him down, shoulders squared.

“I will. Whatever happened to you isn’t my problem.”

“No, you won’t,” you say, taking a breath before jumping in front of the proverbial blaster. “Not after you were so rough when you captured me, and I lost the baby.”

His head snaps to you. “What did you say?”

“When you found me. You tackled me, knocked me to the ground, and attacked me. The trauma was too much, and—“

And he has you pinned up against the wall where you sit, a hand around your neck. “You really think this is a smart idea?”

“Go ahead,” you hiss through his grip. “Leave marks.”

He lets go immediately, seething. His gloves creak as his fists tighten around nothing.

“What if we can work something out?”

“I don’t negotiate with quarry. What’s stopping me from putting you in the freezer now?”

“My jewelry,” you say in a rush. His threat isn’t idle; you can feel its wrath as if his hand never left your throat. “It has to be worth at least as much as he offered. Tell him there was a complication, send him the ring, and you can have the rest.”

He doesn’t respond; just storms off. You, of course, stay put.

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #mando x reader #mando x you #febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #tw abortion

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dystopicjumpsuit · 4 months

Text

I Know.

A/N: Cursed with insomnia again. Here’s what I wrote last night.

Pairing: Crosshair x Reader (GN; reader has nightmares and nonspecific trauma)

Rating: T

Wordcount: 1.3k

Warnings and tags: angst; nightmares (not described); hurt comfort

Summary: Sometimes, the people who have the most complicated history with you are the ones who know you best. Set pre-Skako Minor.

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You awoke with a flinch. Your heart raced as you stared into the darkness, the pulse of it thundering in your ears. Your breath came fast and hard, and you forced yourself to slow down and breathe through your nose. Gradually, your body let go of the panic, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep. Not when you knew what waited for you once you drifted into unconsciousness.

You sat up slowly, pausing to clear your head before you slipped out of the bunk. As quietly as you could, you made your way to the front of the Marauder, grabbing your datapad as you passed the data terminal. Judging by the snores, Wrecker and Tech were out cold, but you’d be willing to stake every last credit in your account that your pounding heart had awakened Hunter before you even opened your eyes. Still, he was silent as you moved stealthily to the cockpit.

It was strange to be back on the Marauder after all this time. Familiar, yet different. The squad welcomed you back with varying degrees of enthusiasm—or at least acceptance—but there was a distance between you that had never been there before. A sense of caution, of unspoken but deep vigilance, as though you all felt a compulsion to weigh your words before speaking. The easy laughter, the banter, the closeness and connection—it was though none of it had ever existed.

The faint glow of the instrument panel illuminated Crosshair’s lean form as he sat in the pilot’s chair, arms folded over his chest as his long legs stretched out in front of him. He glanced up as you passed, but said nothing. Outside the viewport, it was far too dark to make out the landscape of the wilderness, but the stars above shone brilliantly through the unclouded atmosphere. You curled up in the copilot’s seat and wordlessly flicked on your datapad.

You tried to read. The holonovel you opened seemed too daunting, so instead you scrolled through your usual collection of holonet sites for a long while, but your brain refused to process any of the text. Your eyes felt heavy and gritty, and the words seemed to blur together no matter how hard you squeezed your eyelids shut to try to clear your vision. Eventually, you closed your eyes and leaned your head back against the headrest.

“You all right?” Crosshair’s voice was barely audible.

“Can’t sleep,” you whispered without opening your eyes.

“Still?”

“Yeah.”

You both fell silent for a moment. The pilot’s seat creaked as he adjusted.

“Same nightmare after all this time?” he asked.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

You opened your eyes and rotated your head toward him, only to find that he was already watching you, his dark, intense eyes unreadable in the dim light.

“You ever talk to anyone about it?”

You shook your head. “Just you. The others—they don’t understand. They don’t know. The details.”

“They still care, though,” he said quietly.

“I know. I just…” You swallowed. “Can’t. I don’t want them to know.”

He didn’t reply, only watched you.

You took a deep, shuddering breath. “I don’t want them to see how broken I am.”

The silence stretched out for a moment, before he replied very quietly. “I never saw you that way.”

Your throat tightened, and your vision blurred for an instant before the tear overflowed from the corner of your eye and slid down your temple. You could barely see a damned thing in the dark, but Crosshair saw you. He always had.

Slowly, he reached out and smoothed the tear off your skin, then he dropped his hand to your wrist and gently but insistently tugged on you until at last you complied with his unspoken request, crossing the short distance to the copilot’s chair and settling onto his lap. He wrapped his arms around you and coaxed your head down to rest on his shoulder as you curled your legs up and around his body.

“I don’t want to fall back asleep,” you confessed, feeling slightly ashamed of your childish fear.

He stroked your hair. “Then… don’t sleep. Stay with me.”

You nuzzled softly against his neck, breathing in his familiar scent. It had been such a long time, but you’d know it anywhere.

“You don’t mind?”

“Why would I?” he whispered.

The weight of lost time was heavy in the silence before you replied. “I thought you might prefer it if I left you alone.”

His jaw brushed against your forehead as he turned to look down at you. “I don’t mind having you here.”

The tension in your body gradually drained away as you relaxed against him, lapsing once more into silence. He rested his cheek against the top of your head as his thumb traced slow, lazy circles on your shoulder. Your heavy eyes began to drift shut, your anxiety lulled away by the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of his chest and the steady thump of his pulse beneath your ear.

“I can hear your heartbeat,” you whispered.

His only response was a quiet, brief hum at the back of his throat, but he pressed his lips against your hair. You raised your hand slowly and trailed your fingertips from the corner of his jaw, down the line of his neck, to the notch at the base of his throat, and when you reached his chest, you flattened your palm against him, directly over his heart. His hand closed gently around yours, holding it there, and you brushed your thumb over his knuckles.

“I’ve missed this,” he whispered. “Holding you like this.”

“Me, too.”

You relaxed further against him, and he tightened his arms around you, holding you securely so you didn’t slip off his lap. When you spoke again, your voice was very soft.

“Cross?”

“Mhm?”

You hesitated a moment before you whispered, “Why did we end it?”

He didn’t move, didn’t react, didn’t even change the pattern of his breath, but you could hear his heart speed up at your whispered question.

“I don’t remember,” he replied.

You took a few slow, shallow breaths. “Me either.”

His hand glided slowly up your shoulder until he reached the back of your neck, and he stroked his thumb along the shell of your ear.

“We were good together, weren’t we?” he asked quietly.

You tilted your head and brushed your lips against his neck in a caress so feather-light it was almost imperceptible.

Almost.

“The best,” you whispered.

He swallowed hard, the sound plainly audible to your ears. The two of you sat unmoving for a long, long time, simply holding each other. He took a shaky breath.

“I—” his voice failed, and he fell silent again.

“I know,” you whispered, kissing his neck. “I know.” You pressed your lips against his jaw, and then the corner of his mouth. “It’s hard, isn’t it? Finding the right words.”

The hand on the back of your neck slid up to hold your head, and he turned to gaze into your eyes, your faces so close together that you could feel his soft, warm breath on your skin.

“What can I say that would be enough?” he asked, his voice quiet and unsteady.

You rested your palm against his jaw, feeling the rough, familiar prickle of his facial hair. Your thumb stroked across his cheekbone, then over his lips.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you whispered. “I already know.” You kissed him softly. “I’ll always know you.”

He pulled you closer, cradling your head in his hands as his lips brushed against yours. His familiar taste flooded your senses. The kiss was gentle and slow, his tongue just grazing between your lips before the two of you parted reluctantly. He rested his forehead against yours as he brought his hand around to caress your cheek.

“Do you think you could ever love me again?” he asked.

You were silent for a moment before you confessed, “I never stopped.”

The rise and fall of his chest paused for an instant, then resumed.

“Neither did I.”

---

Want more Bad Batch fics? I have two for Hunter: First Kiss ficlet (sfw) and "I Wish All Readers a Very Hunter Life Day" (very spicy).

Ragu list:

@secondaryrealm @sev-on-kamino spicy-clones @wings-and-beskar @523rdrebel @merkitty49 @anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @arcsimper5 @starrylothcat @clio3kantarella @cloneloverrrrr @goblininawig @ladytano420 @arctrooper69 @wolffegirlsunite @sunshinesdaydream @mandos-mind-trick @littlemissmanga @stunkbiggu @starqueensthings @clonemedickix @marierg @idontgetanysleep @moonlightwarriorqueen @dudewhynotthis @sleepycreativewriter @tcwmatchmakingau @littlemissbshine @multi-fan-dom-madness @heavenseed76 @wizardofrozz @bobaprint @sweetcream-coldfoam @banksys-rat @skellymom @pickleprickle @trixie2023 @mythical-illustrator @dickarchivist @cw80831 @kimiheartblade @meredithroseg @flyiingsly @lightwise @swcowgal

#tbb crosshair #crosshair bad batch #crosshair x reader #star wars #the bad batch #sw tbb fanfic #crosshair fanfiction #hurt comfort fic #hurt/comfort #gn reader

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