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tiffdawg · 4 years

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The Light of Stars | Chapter Nine: Curiosity

Gif: @bestintheparsec

The Light of Stars

Pairing: Din Djarin/ The Mandalorian x Reader (no y/n)

Word Count: 8.5k

Rating: M | Warnings: Rating change for some snuggling, just to be safe and, if it wasn’t already clear, one (1) touch-starved Mandalorian. But really, hurt/comfort and angsty pining is all we know. Mild language.

Story Summary: In pursuit of the Child’s people, the mysterious Jedi, Din Djarin and his foundling find hope in a woman who shares the kid’s strange powers. Newly partnered with the Mandalorian, you are trained in the ways of the Force, but you’re no Jedi. You’re just trying to find your place in the galaxy.

A/N: So… I always intended for this story to be rated-T through the end to try and match the overall tone/content of star wars... but uh, these two, am I right? I’m just going where the story takes me. Big shout out to @leo-moon for this stunning edit. Like, I seriously can’t stop looking at it. Thank you so much Leo!! And, as always, thank you so, so so, much for reading. When I say that your comments and kudos and support keeps me going, I really mean it. I love and appreciate you all so much!

Read on AO3

TLOS Masterlist | My Masterlist

… . …

Chapter Nine: Curiosity

When you woke the next morning, a soft cooing sound pulling you out of your deep slumber, you found yourself still curled into Mando’s side, his strong arm heavy around your shoulders. Beneath you, he was warm and solid, and you could feel the rhythm of his heartbeat in his chest as you rested against him. That steady sound never failed to ground you.

As you drifted into consciousness, you thought about how the normally stoic Mandalorian had surprised you with his forwardness when he asked to hold you. You knew he was capable of being gentle, but aside from his recent tendency to reach for your hand, that tenderness had never been directed at you in such a way. To share a bed, to hold someone through the long, dark night, felt like a sacred act. Intimate in its innocence. Other’s had warmed your bed – or rather your temporary bunks at various Rebel bases back when you’d scorned the way of the Jedi – but spending the night with a Mandalorian, especially that Mandalorian, was something else entirely. And it crossed some unspoken line between friendship and something you shouldn’t have dared to associate with the man next to you.

Although you knew reading into his actions would only make things worse for you, you couldn’t tame the spark of hope it ignited. He’d become your closest friend and confident, but you wondered if he didn’t feel something toward you. And so, the rational part of your brain couldn’t stop your heart from saying yes to him, to inviting him into your bed. You wanted to be close to Mando, always, but never more so than after you opened up to him about your vision. He’d been so kind and understanding. His empathy had poured through the cold armored exterior and washed over you, and you wanted to wade in that feeling for as long as possible. A selfish, foolish part of you just wanted him to hold you and never let go.

Knowing that moment was a gift, something stolen that wouldn’t last, you tried to commit to memory the feel of his body against yours while you had the chance.

At the sound of a happy trill, your eyes fluttered open slowly. The Child, now wide awake, sat upright on Mando’s chest, gurgling happily with a toothy grin every time Mando tickled him, poking playfully at the baby’s belly. You felt Mando’s short, breathy, modulated laughs beneath you rather than hearing them aloud. His affection for his foundling was endlessly endearing. You watched their little game quietly, loath to disrupt their fun.

You realized Mando must’ve moved at some point because the lights were on the lowest setting and a quick glance upwards showed you that while he was still missing the rest of his armor, his helmet had been replaced. The only thing that mattered was that he’d returned to you. Unlike last time when he’d slipped his hand out of your grasp and left you, he’d come back. And this was so much better. For whatever reason, he wanted to lie with you and hold you close for as long as possible. The pleasant feeling that realization sent through your system warmed your cheeks and pulled a lazy smile across your lips.

When the baby finally caught his hand, grabbing onto his index finger with six claws, he held it tightly as he looked up at his father with shining eyes full of adoration.

“Your son loves you,” you said, quietly voicing the thought as it passed through your mind. Mando’s visor tilted towards you, only just noticing that you were awake. He made an uncertain noise and turned his attention back to the little one. His body suddenly felt tense beneath yours. You repositioned yourself so that you could look at him properly, holding yourself up with a bent elbow. “You must believe that, don’t you?” you inquired pointedly.

The vocoder emitted a soft crackling sound, nothing more than static, and you imagined he was struggling to find the right words. It was one of those moments when language seemed to fail him. Before he could form some sort of response, the baby drew both of your gazes away from each other as he attempted to scale down the side of the bed, unwittingly relieving the tension that had settled between you. Mando pried him off the bunk, parting from you as he sat up to set the Child on the floor.

The kid waddled to the pile of new playthings he’d collected in the short time at the base, and Mando shook his head at the sight. “We’ve only been here two days,” he muttered.

“He’s quite popular,” you quipped.

“Raising a foundling is communal,” he informed you. “But they’re going to spoil him at this rate.”

“I’d say he deserves it,” you responded, laughing softly as the baby tossed around a geometric puzzle toy one of the older children passed on to him. He’d successfully solved it once, but, apparently, he was over that. Mando nodded his agreement before looking back to you, watching you quietly as he was prone to do. You knew you must’ve been quite the sight first thing in the morning, even if you’d had your best night’s sleep in years.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

You hummed a little as you considered his question. “Not yet, which is quite surprising for me.” He huffed at that but said nothing else. Just when you thought he was going to move to get up for the day, he reclined once more. At the low groaning sound he made as he settled, you instinctively soothed a hand over his side. “How’s your injury healing?”

“I’m fine,” he insisted as he shifted stiffly, seeking a more comfortable position, “Some aches are just age. But I’d feel better if– If you’d come here.”

Failing to fight the grin breaking out across your face, you returned to your place next to him. “Is that better?” you asked playfully. His only answer was the slightest squeeze of your shoulders. The two of you watched the baby play, moving from one toy to the next in rapid succession.

“You said he healed a mortal injury once,” you started, thinking out loud as you idly ran your hand over Mando’s injured side, “Is that why you pushed us away the other day?”

“Yes,” he answered, “He was weak after. I couldn’t let him do that again.”

“Wow,” you said excitedly. You propped yourself up so that you could look at him again. “Theoretically, I thought that might be possible, but I never knew of anyone who did it. That’s absolutely fascinating.” Your ramblings trailed off, as you lost yourself in your own mind for a moment, recalling some old text that you’d read years ago. “He’s such an impressive kid. And he really would do anything for you.”

“It wasn’t me he healed. It was an associate of mine.”

“Associate? Do you mean friend, Mando?”

“Maybe now. He wasn’t at the time.” He paused for a breath, visor trained on the baby. “I didn’t have friends until recently.”

“I would have never guessed,” you teased lightly. The helmet rolled sideways to catch your gaze. You could read his annoyance in that once simple movement, and you had to stifle a laugh. “All I mean to say is that you have a lot of armor protecting you. More than the Beskar,” you explained. “Personally, I really like the man underneath.”

He placed a hand over yours where it rested on his stomach and the two of you fell into another long silence at your words. But even as he was perfectly still, unmoving save for the rise and fall of his chest, you felt his eyes watching you, roaming your face. “You see me,” he said softly, a hint of something akin to disbelief in his voice, “More than anyone.”

If he was anyone else, you would’ve kissed him then. It wasn’t the first time you were overwhelmed with that exact desire. Instead, you brought his hand to your lips, hoping the chaste brush of your mouth against his skin would mean something to him. His hand gripped yours impossibly tighter, flinching at your touch.

“I’m sorry–”

“Stop apologizing for that,” he said, his voice resounding from deep in his chest, “It’s not you.” He left your grasp only to place his hand against your cheek, letting the pad of his thumb tentatively trace the curve of your mouth, lightly kissing your lips.

“Are there any other exceptions?” you asked, remembering your conversation from the night before. “Besides your foundling?” Mando’s hand fell away from your face, but before you could mourn the loss of his touch, he twined his fingers with yours, squeezing slightly.

“Are you trying to find a loophole, cyar’ika?” There was something light about his tone, but you still felt like you were asking something you didn’t have the right to ask.

“No,” you insisted, shaking your head. “I just–” Unable to look him in the visor, your eyes flicked across his chest, from one shoulder to the other. “I wonder sometimes, that’s all.”

“You’re not missing much.”

His comment drew your gaze back to his helmet and you narrowed your eyes at him. “I don’t believe that for a second, Mando. I don’t have to see you without your helmet to know that you’re beautiful.”

Mando was quiet for a drawn-out moment, practically motionless. You fidgeted under his stare, chewing on your bottom lip as you started to regret the words that had slipped out without your permission. You believed every word you said, but it was not something you’d intended to voice.

“My wife,” he answered finally, “If she swore the creed.”

“Your wife will be a Mandalorian,” you stated, thinking more out loud to yourself than asking a question. The exception made sense – of course his family should be able to see him – but it still stung in a way you didn’t want to acknowledge.

“That doesn’t matter,” he said quickly, his grip on you tightening, “I won’t marry.” You weren’t sure why, but it sounded strangely like a promise.

“I meant what I said before. You are loved. By your son, by–” You caught yourself, knowing you’d already said more than you should’ve. “You deserve to be loved, always. You deserve to be happy, Mando. I– I want that for you.”

His helmet was as expressionless as ever as he regarded you. You weren’t sure where the need to make him believe you stemmed from, but, in that moment, it felt like the most important thing in the galaxy. If you were going to leave him in a few short days, the least you could do was ensure that he would have a fulfilling life. You couldn’t look into his future, but you wanted whatever would make him happy. That mattered to you more than it probably should have.

When he finally spoke, it nearly broke what was left of your heart.

“I want that for you, too,” he said softly.

You felt your chest hollow as you lost your breath. You already knew that sort of happiness would escape you. No matter how much you wanted that life with him. Once again, it had been so easy for your playful banter to evolve into a more meaningful exchange – something that you couldn’t afford to indulge in. Needing to put some distance between the two of you, you sat up and tucked your legs under you, shifting away as you tried to remember how to breathe. “We should, um, get up. And start work on the ship so we can get to Lah’mu as quickly as possible,” you suggested, not truly meaning a word of it.

“Yeah,” he agreed, swinging his legs off the bed as he righted himself. Just before he made to stand, he looked back at you as if he wanted to say something. Apparently, he thought better of it, and the rare, slow morning in bed came to an end.

Deciding the best course of action would be to enjoy the last of your time with Mando and the Child, you pushed your heartbreak aside. With the morning’s conversation out of your mind, you spent half of the day with them both in the bunker’s large underground docking bay watching him work on the Razor Crest, helping where you could despite his insistence that you weren’t needed and could relax. Admittedly, you really didn’t know much about fixing starships.

Still, you sighed dramatically at Mando as he discussed how to maneuver a particularly heavy engine part up to the left wing with two other Mandalorians. Normally you weren’t so cavalier about using the Force around strangers, but you’d shared more of your skill with others in the past couple days at the base than you had with practically anyone else in your entire life. You’d always kept yourself a secret, but the Mandalorians knew who you were, and you felt safe with them. So, without even thinking about it, you silenced their conversation by using the Force to lift the massive engine for them with minimal effort.

“Show off,” Mando muttered as he walked by you.

“Learn to ask for help, Mando,” you retorted.

Later, you were playing with the kid, both of you having tired of the work going on around you, when Mando called down to you.

“Jetii!” he teased. It never held the same reverence as when the others said it. “Help me out and pass the carbon chisel,” he requested, waving a gloved hand at you.

With a retort on the tip of your tongue, you smirked up at him where he stood on the ship’s wing. However, the Child beat you to it. He speedily floated the exact tool Mando needed up to him. Only, he put a little too much force into it and the heavy metal chisel flew through the air, hitting Mando square in the helmet and knocking him back a few steps.

You gasped, watching with wide eyes as Mando staggered on the edge of the wing, but quickly righted him with a wave of your hand. When you were certain that he was safe, unbridled, slightly hysterical laughter burst from within you and you fell into a fit of giggles at the close call. As did everyone else in the hanger. Even the baby found his father’s near-fall funny. Mando stared down at the two of you unamused. You couldn’t stop laughing and the sight of him with his hands on his hips only made it worse.

When you finally wiped the tears from your eyes, you noticed the slight shake of his shoulders. He was laughing too. You imagined him smiling again, and your heart fluttered in your chest at the thought.

When the docking bay’s mirth finally subsided, you scooped the kid up, deciding he needed to expel some of his energy playing with the other children rather than causing undue bodily harm to his own father.

… . …

If Din thought traveling with you and the kid was making him soft, it was nothing compared to seeing the two of you among his tribe. He was still amazed at the way his people accepted the both of you. He was even more impressed at your ease around the Mandalorians. Though he supposed it shouldn’t have surprised him – not only had you been shockingly respectful of his culture since the day he met you, but you seemed to make friends everywhere you went.

Sometime after midday, he’d snuck away from the Crest in search of something to eat and instead found you at the center of attention in the main hall. A couple dozen younglings, including his own little foundling, surrounded you. That accounted for almost every child between the different tribes. Nearly as many adults listened to you speak from further away. Everyone seemed to hang on your every word as you told the children a story from your Rebellion days. It appeared he walked in at the end of your tale.

“And then the Imperial Star Destroyer exploded!” you announced dramatically with a sweeping wave of your hands. A chorus of excited exclamations rang out around you. And then question after question was thrown your way.

“How did you escape?”

“What did the Imps do next?”

“Which explosives did the Rebels prefer?”

Strategy and weapons appeared to be their biggest concerns. They were Mandalorian children, after all. And you answered each question with ease and a smile, encouraging their curiosities.

Din realized then that one day that would be your life. You’d seen yourself training young Jedi in your vision and he imagined it would look much like the scene before him. And you would excel at it. Of that he had no doubt.

But he couldn’t bring himself to be happy about it. He remembered what you said about that future. I was sad. I could see it in myself. Even surrounded by all those students, I was alone. He could still hear the shake in your voice as you held back your tears. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t bring himself to want that future for you.

Of course, if he was being honest, he wasn’t particularly fond of either possible future.

He returned to the docking bay having forgotten why he left his work in the first place.

Hours later, as Din made his way through the underground maze of corridors, that scene of you surrounded by the children replayed in his mind. He despised everything about the situation you found yourself. Hated how impossible it proved to ignore his feelings for you. Couldn’t believe that it made him a sentimental, pensive man, completely lost in his thoughts when there were pressing matters to attend to.

And yet, he continued to struggle to reconcile your future, one that appeared to be perfect for you, with the knowledge that you were also destined to be alone. As was he. But as much as he wanted to be with you, he knew the two of you couldn’t stay together. You had a path you were determined to follow, and he couldn’t ask you to give up your code. Not to be with a man you could never truly know. You would never expect him to abandon his creed. He couldn’t give you something like what you say in your second vision – no matter how appealing – without breaking his oath.

It was a problem with no solution.

But he had an idea. A simple, indulgent idea that wouldn’t fix a damn thing but might offer you the smallest hint of comfort over the years. And if that was all he could do for you, then he would.

When he heard the familiar sound of fires of a forge and tools shaping steel, he realized he’d reached his destination. He moved into the armory quietly, but his alor noticed him even with her back turned. Nothing ever escaped her.

“I expected you would come around,” she intoned as she inspected her current project. It looked to be a pair of durasteel cuisses. She held both pieces in front of her visor, turning them in sync as she compared the two. “I must say, your Jedi proved impressive.”

“Vizsla deserved it,” he retorted.

“That is probably true. He usually does. But it is not what I spoke of.” Dissatisfied with her work, she returned to her anvil and continued shaping one of the pieces, molding it with each solid strike of her hammer. He waited patiently for her to continue, knowing she would only speak again in her own time. When she finished her task, setting her tools and the matching thigh plates on her worktop, she finally turned to him. “She has the spirit of a warrior, but the temperament of a leader.”

“Yes, she does,” he agreed. Something akin to pride swelled within him.

“And she is an excellent teacher. Everyone is taken with her. Especially the younglings,” she assessed correctly. Din offered a curt nod of agreement. “As are you,” she stated simply, looking at him for some sort of an answer. He couldn’t offer her one. Couldn’t even try to deny it. “You want something, Din Djarin. What is it?”

Din would never understand how the armorer, for all of her skill and wisdom, always seemed to know everything. He demagnetized his cuirass, setting it gently on her worktop. “I have a request.”

“The nexu scratch?” she asked, running a gloved finger over it, “That should come out easily enough. You could’ve done it yourself.”

“No,” he corrected quickly, “No, I’d like to leave that.”

“The mark of a battle won.”

“Yes.” The mark of a battle won together, he thought to himself.

“Something else then?” his alor prompted.

He swallowed hard, summoning up more courage than should’ve been necessary to ask for something so simple. “Yes.”

… . …

It was late in the day, well past the evening meal. That night it was a deliciously spicy stew that nearly had you in tears. However, there was something about their predilection for spicy flavors that seemed to fit the Mandalorians, and it only further endeared you to their culture. They were a unique people, but you found that you enjoyed them immensely. They were warriors with unmatched spirit. Although you could feel the palpable mark of generations worth of loss – something that weighed heavy on them all – they carried on with a fierce resolution that you admired.

At that hour, the base was quiet as most had turned in long ago, but a few of your shadows had returned to you. Four little girls, all probably no older than eleven, had knocked on the door to your quarters, politely asking for you and the Child. Even as tired as you were, you didn’t have it in your heart to deny them.

Which was how you ended up back in the main hall, now strangely peaceful as the usual crowd had disappeared into their quarters for the evening save for a few stragglers continuing their work and, as always, several more who remained on guard.

One of the girls, Syana, sat next to you, closely inspecting your hand and asking question after questions as to how you were able to channel the Force. She was definitely the oldest of the bunch, and relentlessly inquisitive. It was something you noticed the first day you met the young girl and you admired her for it. Two of the others, Mai-Sen and Ename, sisters only in that they were found together, played with the baby. They’d made up a game just for him, but, despite their best efforts to explain it, you still didn’t quite understand the rules. But they seemed to enjoy it and the kid was more than entertained.

Perched on your knee was the smallest and youngest of the group by several inches and a few years. She was a soft-spoken girl with a mauve-colored helm. Unlike the others, she was from Mando’s tribe and did not give her name. She had taken to exploring your features, caressing your face with her slender fingers. At first, her actions had confused you, but you reasoned that she was probably unused to seeing someone bare their face, and so you didn’t try to stop her. Even the four girls, as young as they were, each wore a traditional helmet. You couldn’t help but think they seemed too young for something like that. Of course, you realized, silently chastising yourself, you’d started your own training around the same age. That was hardly different.

The pad of her finger traced a circle following the arc of your brow and the bone of your cheek and she whispered to you. “Mesh’la,” she said softly.

“What?” you asked, perking up at the word. You’d heard it once before. The day you showed Mando your lightsaber. “What does that mean?”

“Beautiful,” she explained.

“Oh,” you gasped, your mind spinning at the translation. Of course, he’d probably been talking about the saber. He had to have been. He was a Mandalorian; his weapons were practically part of him. Still, you dared to ask your next question despite your better judgement. “What does cyar’ika mean?”

All four little girls giggled at you.

“You’re saying it wrong!” Ename called to you from where she sat with the baby.

“It’s not sah-ree-kah,” Mai explained cheekily, “It’s shar-ee-kah.”

“Of course. Forgive me,” you said hastily, “But what does it mean?”

“Sweetheart,” the littlest one said quietly. It felt like a punch to the gut, like all the air had been forced from your lungs and you couldn’t draw in a breath.

“No, it means beloved,” Ename corrected.

“That’s the same thing,” Syana placated.

The girls’ bickering fell away as you processed the meaning of the diminutive. Some part of you suspected Mando used his new name for you purposely, but you hadn’t imagined it could mean something like that.

Ename shook your shoulder, drawing you from deep within your own mind, and practically scolded you. “Mando’a is a special language. You’re only supposed to use words like those if you really mean them. That’s what my mother taught me.”

“That’s what my buir said too,” Syana agreed, looking up at you from her place next to you. Somehow that only made things worse. You finally realized why he was so hesitant to translate Mando’a for you. Because that one word meant that he felt something for you, even if he didn’t want to admit it. Who knew what else Mando and the others had been saying?

“Kayden called me mesh’la once,” Mai informed the group from where she sat with the kid. That was promptly followed by a few disgusted noises. You’d met Kayden; he was a rather typical boy for their age. It was enough to make you laugh even as your heart was crumbling in your chest and your stomach twisted itself into knots.

“Jetii, Jetii,” the little one in your lap said, tugging on the collar of your tunic, “Does Beroya call you that?”

“Beroya?”

“You really need to learn Mando’a if you’re going to stay with us!” Ename demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.

“The bounty hunter!” Syana explained, “Does he call you cyar’ika?”

Your crowd fell silent as they anxiously awaited your answer. Four T-shaped visors and a pair of large, dark eyes stared at you. You forced the word out. “Yes.”

Their excited, modulated gasps resounded throughout the hall.

After setting the Child gently on your bunk, you all but collapsed onto the bed next to him. A long-withheld, frustrated groan tore from your lips, muffled by your pillow.

The idea of Mando not returning your affections had been comforting. Even as his actions suggested otherwise, you clung to it to ease your own pain. While you weren’t normally one to take the advice of children on matters of the heart, according to them, the bounty hunter was in love with you. They’d stressed that fact. Repeatedly. And, much to your dismay, you were inclined to believe them.

He called you cyar’ika. On several occasions. Once, for the very first time, as he consoled you after your visit to the temple. Another time after he’d narrowly escaped death. When he held you in that very bed. And then half a dozen times more. Each moment was seared into your memory.

If it was as special a word as the girls said it was, you knew he wouldn’t use it if he didn’t feel something toward you. Not when he was as dedicated to his people and culture as he was. Mando always acted and spoke with purpose; he never did anything lightly. Which meant your fondness for him, the love you were trying so desperately to quell, was reciprocated.

And it made sense. Why else would he hold you at night? Share his secrets and memories with you? Wipe the tears from your eyes? You’d done everything you could to ignore the signs, but that was a hopeless endeavor.

A tiny hand resting against your shoulder drew you from your thoughts, and you turned your head to see the baby looking at you with a worried expression, his pointed ears turned downwards.

“I’m so sorry, little one,” you sat up and held him in your arms, “You don’t need to worry about me like you do. I’m just– I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore. Being dramatic, perhaps?”

He made a cooing noise you took as his agreement. “You think so too?” you asked, tweaking his nose. His ears perked up and you smiled at him.

“How about we meditate together for a bit? That usually puts you right to sleep when it's late.” And it typically helped you when you felt overwhelmed. At the moment, it felt like your entire universe was collapsing in on itself like a black hole. You set the Child in front of you and let your eyes fall shut as you tried to center yourself. A few minutes later, you heard a soft snoring sound, and when you opened your eyes just enough to peak at him, you found him fast asleep against your pillow. “That’s what I thought,” you whispered to yourself.

You returned to your practice, focusing on steadying your breathing and uncoiling the tension in your shoulders. As you cleared your mind, reaching out toward the Force that surrounded you, you felt a familiar pull. Something you’d only felt once on Nar Shaddaa.

Curious, you moved towards one of the unused bunks where your belongings sat in a cluttered heap. Whatever was calling you, was inside your own satchel. You dug around for a moment before pulling out the old, broken datacron. It looked the same as the day you’d bought it, except for the unnerving fact that it glowed bright blue.

Acting on pure instinct and the slightest bit of hope, you placed the cube in the center of the room and knelt before it. You resumed your meditation, focusing intently on the object before you, seeking out it’s unique signature through the Force. Your eyes shot open at the faint clicking sound of the cube’s corners turning. The soft blue light of a holo filled the room.

It wasn’t a piece of junk after all.

… . …

“Mando!”

You skidded to a halt in front of him, nearly crashing into him as he exited the armory. Din placed a hand on either of your shoulders in an attempt to steady you as you caught your breath. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

“What’s wrong? Where’s the kid?” he inquired.

“He’s fine! Everything’s fine. But you’re never going to believe–” You stopped short, head tilting adorably to the side as you looked over him. Or at least he found it adorable until he realized what you were looking at. “Why do you look crooked?”

You were probably the only person in the whole kriffing galaxy that would notice something so small. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said hoarsely.

“Your chestplate doesn’t look right” you reached out as if to adjust it, “You always look perfect.”

“Your mind is playing tricks on you, Jedi,” Din deflected, ignoring the hint of a compliment.

“Very funny, Mandalorian,” you teased even as your eyes lingered on his cuirass. “Which reminds me – come on!” You grabbed his hand and sped down the long hallway toward the barracks.

“Do you remember that old datacron I picked up on Nar Shaddaa?” you asked as you pulled him into the bunkroom. There was a nervous excitement about you he hadn’t seen before.

“Sure,” he answered, glancing between you and the baby sleeping on your bunk. The kid didn’t seem to mind the sudden intrusion.

“Well, it’s not just some datacron,” you started, producing the object from your bag, now glowing bright blue in your hands. “This is a Jedi holocron,” you announced with a bright expression. “It’s probably from the old temple on Coruscant! That’s where the archives used to be, until the Empire destroyed every holocron they could get their hands on.”

“What was this doing in a junk shop on Nar Shaddaa?”

“I can only imagine. But these are extremely rare,” you said, gently placing the holocron in his hand. He inspected the Jedi artifact, tracing the golden edges with a gloved finger. “I haven’t even told you the best part yet,” you added, failing to repress your smile.

“What’s the best part?” he asked, playing along.

“This holocron–” the grin you’d been fighting broke out across your face, “–Is dedicated to the Jedi’s history with the Mandalorians.”

“Really?” Din questioned, not bothering to hide the excitement in his voice. He couldn’t believe that this palm-sized device, something he’d initially dismissed when you’d showed it to him, might hold answers to his questions about the Jedi. “Have you read any of it?”

“Not yet. I was waiting for my favorite Mandalorian,” you said coyly, a bright glint in your eyes.

“I’m here now,” he teased, “Open it.”

A few hours later, the two of you were still sitting on the floor of your shared room, backs against the bunk where the baby slept, sorting through the hundreds of files stored on the holocron. With each new piece of history revealed to you, your excitement had faded until you were slumped against the bunk, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration.

“Our people have fought each other across the galaxy for millennia,” you concluded, “And they absolutely, unequivocally hate each other.”

“You might be right,” Din conceded reluctantly. His alor had once called the Jedi enemy sorcerers. But the extent to which that was true had surprised even him.

“I mean look at this,” you continued, ignoring his agreement. With a wave of your hand you recalled the files on the Mandalorian-Jedi War you’d read over earlier. “The Jedi destroyed your people’s homeworld. Mandalore is basically uninhabitable because of what they did. And, if that’s not bad enough, because of that war, everything that you wear is specifically made to combat the Jedi. The Beskar, the jetpack, your weapons, your vambraces, your helmet…” you trailed off as your eyes scanned over each piece of his armor, “It was all created to protect you from someone like me.”

He would’ve liked to refute you, but you were right. According to everything the two of you had read so far, the Jedi and Mandalorians were enemies even at the best of times. Learning that the Jedi were responsible for the destruction of Mandalore was a particularly brutal blow. As was discovering that the very beskar’gam he wore was designed to compensate for and overcome the abilities of a Jedi. Your abilities. It was clearly detailed right there in the text with accompanying schematics. Apparently, that fact upset you as much as it unsettled him.

And yet you were still the first person to get past his armor. And you hadn’t even needed your powers to do so.

“How does everyone here not hate me?” you sighed, as lost in your own thoughts as he was in his, “How do you not hate me?”

“I could never hate you,” he stated, “And I doubt most people here know about half of this stuff. Hell, I didn’t know about the Jedi or the Force until I met the kid. There’s– There’s got to be something good in here.”

You banished the file with a flick of your wrist and brought up a new piece of history. You repeated the action several times, switching between documents when you came across something that frustrated you. “Would you like to read about the best ways for a Jedi to strike down a Mandalorian in close combat?” you muttered as you disappeared that file as well, “Or maybe about the Jedi’s proposal to banish Mandalorians to Wild Space a few hundred years ago? I’m sure that’s a lovely read.

He had to admit that none of that sounded particularly helpful. When Din said nothing, you continued your rapid-fire scan of the holofiles. Just as he was about to give up hope, you gasped and sat straight up.

“Look!” you said excitedly, “There was a Mandalorian inducted into the Jedi Order. That means they didn’t always hate each other. Although,” you added, your face falling as you read more, “That was a thousand years ago.”

“It’s something,” he quipped. A small smile broke the sad expression that had marred your features only a moment ago. “Tell me more.”

“Well, it looks like Tarre Vizsla joined the Order,” you said as you quickly scanned the text. Din rolled his eyes behind his visor. Of course, it was a Vizsla. “He later broke away from the Jedi and became the Mand’alor.”

You turned to him and he answered your question before you could ask it. “The sole ruler of the Mandalorians.”

“Oh, interesting. You had a Jedi ruling your people at one point, Mando” you said, elbowing him playfully in the soft padding covering his side.

“Former Jedi,” Din corrected, earning an exasperated look from you. “Keep reading. Please.”

“Only because you asked so nicely,” you retorted before returning to the holo. “As the first Mandalorian Jedi, Tarre Vizsla crafted a unique weapon called the darksaber. It says here that after his death the Jedi kept the blade until Clan Vizsla stole it from the Temple.” You scoffed at that. “Why do I get the sense that it was really the other way around? Either way, it became an important unifying symbol for all Mandalorians. That’s absolutely fascinating.”

Before he could say anything, the holo shifted and the text was replaced by an image of a lightsaber not unlike your own save for the angular black blade. When you were quiet for a beat too long, Din glanced over and found you staring at the image with wide, unblinking eyes, your former excitement replaced with something that looked more like fear.

“Cyar’ika?” he prompted, resting a hand on your shoulder.

“I’ve seen this…” The light in your eyes dimmed as you stared off in the distance past the holo, looking at something Din couldn’t see.

“In your vision,” he finished for you.

“Yes.”

While he was afraid that he would be right again, he ventured another guess anyway. “The second one?”

“The man I was fighting wielded this exact weapon.”

He looked at the lightsaber again. “A Mandalorian?”

“I’m not sure. I didn’t get a good look at him, but it was definitely this saber. There must only be one like it.” You turned to look at him, concern written all over your face. “But what does that mean?”

“I– I don’t know,” he offered lamely, frustrated at himself for not having anything more to add than that.

“Shit,” you cursed, completely unlike you, “Gods, somehow these visions keep getting worse.”

“But you’re not choosing that future, so it shouldn’t matter,” he reasoned.

“Well– I suppose that’s true.” You seemed to shrink in on yourself at the concession.

As much as you insisted that you’d made your decision, Din remained unconvinced. Your future weighed heavy on you. And he wanted nothing more than to make those worries go away. Wished he could take those visions from you so you wouldn’t feel all of the pain and anguish they’ve caused anymore. His grip on your shoulder tightened just enough to draw your attention back to him. You set a hand over his, absentmindedly tracing the raised lines of the blue triangle on his handguard. He watched your repetitive movement, mesmerized by the touch couldn’t feel, and his next words tumbled out uninhibited. “Are you sure you don’t want that other future?”

“Of course I do,” you said quietly, “But not with– And not if it means giving up on the Jedi. I know that this doesn’t cast them in the best of light,” you said, waving toward the holocron, “But the Jedi have always been a beacon of hope for people. And after what happened to them…” You faced him again, and he watched you steeled yourself, a hard, resolved expression falling across your features. “There are few like me. And even fewer with any sort of knowledge of the way of the Jedi. I have a duty to finish my training and pass on what I learned from my master. Otherwise the Jedi will die. After everything that’s happened, the galaxy needs that hope, that light.”

“And you can give it to us all,” he mused, “Your light burns brighter than all the stars.”

“Mando,” you sighed, already attempting to contradict him, “That’s–”

“It’s true,” he said firmly.

“Then how could I turn my back on the Jedi now? How could I be so selfish?”

Din had no response to offer you at that, nor could he push the matter further. He understood your devotion. You’d made up your mind, and he would respect that. There was nothing more he could do.

“We can read more of this later,” he suggested, gesturing to the image of the strange saber. “I think I’ve learned enough for one day.”

“I agree,” you said dryly while you flicked off the projection

“Then get some rest. We’re leaving tomorrow so–”

“The ship is fixed?” you interrupted.

“It’ll be ready by the evening meal.”

“That’s–” you paused as you toyed with the holocron, twisting one of the corners. “That’s good. Tomorrow’s our last day here?”

“Once the Crest is fixed, there’ll be no reason to stay,” he answered.

“Right.” You agreed, seeming to refuse to meet his gaze.

“You should get some sleep,” he repeated.

“We both should,” you corrected. “With our luck, or lack thereof, who knows what will happen next.”

He gave a huff of a laugh at that. Truer words had never been spoken.

… . …

After he gently placed the baby in his carrier, pausing for a moment to adjust his blankets before sealing the cover, Mando switched off the lights, removed his helmet, and laid down in his own bunk. An uncomfortable silence fell over the shared sleeping quarters, broken only by the rustling of your sheets as you fidgeted in your bed across from him. It stretched on for what felt like an hour but was probably only ten minutes. Despite your exhaustion, sleep eluded you.

Of course, he knew what he wanted. If your time with him was coming to an end, you wanted to savor every last moment with him. And you were tired enough to not think twice about it.

“Mando–”

“Cyar’ika–”

He didn’t hesitate. He crossed the room, fell into your bed, and closed the distance between the two of you, his arms encircling you and pulling your body to his.

“That’s so much better,” you sighed as you relaxed into his hold. He hummed his agreement as he held you impossibly tighter. You didn’t seem to mind. “I don’t want to leave,” you admitted.

“Me either, cyar’ika,” he stated simply. The name pierced the very fabric of your soul as you remembered what you’d forgotten in your excitement over the holocron.

“I know what that means. Why you call me that,” you whispered against his chest. You let your statement hang there in the open, let the truth of it sink in.

When he didn’t say anything, your heart collapsed in your chest. Maybe the little girls didn’t actually know what they were talking about. Perhaps you’d been wrong to think that the term held that sort of sentiment for him.

But then you felt a light hand against your chin, tilting your head up to face him in the dark. A pair of soft lips brushed against yours in a ghost of a kiss. And yet it was enough to send a shock of electricity through you. He had a way of overwhelming your senses until you couldn’t think straight. The rest of the galaxy faded away and all that was left was him. That would be your undoing.

You shifted closer, just a fraction of an inch, but it was all he needed, and he captured your bottom lip between his, giving you the sweetest kiss. He pulled away just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his nose bumping yours as the two of you delighted in your closeness.

“Cyar’ika,” he whispered to you, his voice still rough around the edges but softer than you’d ever heard it before. He was smiling just as you were. Of that, you were almost certain. Seeking some sort of confirmation, you placed a hand on his cheek, finding it full and rounded from the grin that pulled on his lips. Without even being able to see him, you knew it was the most beautiful smile, made all the better because it was for you.

He kissed you again, firmer, but still so careful, and your hand fell from his face, finding purchase in the fabric of his shirt to pull him closer, asking for more. He was generous enough to give it to you, cradling your head as he deepened the kiss. Wanting to feel him again, your hand traveled lower and you dared to slip under the hem, trailing your fingertips lightly over his warm skin. His abdomen contracted under your touch and he broke the kiss, but he didn’t stop you that time. It occurred to you that no one ever touched him. No one, besides maybe you and the kid, ever saw him without the armor. And doubtlessly no one was allowed to feel the man underneath the Beskar. Perhaps no one ever kissed him either.

Just you.

Feeling emboldened, you splayed your hand across his stomach. He let out a shaky exhalation in response that seemed to confirm your suspicion. “Is this okay? Do you like it when I touch you, Mando?”

“Yes,” he rasped, his breath mingling with yours.

“Why me?” you asked because that was the question that tormented you the most. Why did he have to pick you?

“Sweetheart,” he whispered, soft and full of emotion as he finally gifting you his translation of the endearment, “Don’t make me say it.”

Deciding it would be better if neither of you said much of anything, afraid of what the truth might be, you took a different approach. “Do you want to touch me too?”

“Fuck–” he swore. It sounded like he was choking on the curse. “Yes.”

At his response, you sat up and lifted your tunic off your body, flinging it haphazardly across the room. He followed your motion and pulled his own shirt off with your help. As soon as it was over his head and off his arms, it followed the same trajectory as yours. You wanted nothing more than to feel him against you and he seemed to want the same. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed your chest to his so that your skin was almost perfectly flush so that only the thin fabric covering your breasts separated the two of you. And Mando– He made a sound most unbecoming of a Mandalorian. His arms engulfed you as he brought the two of you back down to the bed, your body on top of his.

His calloused hands wandered, caressing every bit of your exposed skin. You knew that if anyone before you didn’t touch him, then he didn’t get to feel anyone else either. He seemed to relish the sensation of your skin against his as he traced the curves of your shoulders, followed the arch of your back, and kneaded the softer parts with just enough pressure to earn delirious whimpers from you. Your mouths meet again with more fervor. Your lips came together and pulled apart, each kiss lingering longer than the last as your shared hesitancy turned to confidence and urgency. It was hot and breathy as neither one of you wanted to part long enough to draw in air.

You felt his affection for you in every warm touch and every passionate kiss. That moment was the culmination of your developing feelings, and you gave everything you had to it. You could only hope that he would finally realize that what you’d told him that morning was true. That he was loved. That you loved him. Truly and deeply.

Mando chased your lips every time you broke apart. He was eager and greedy, and you would’ve happily given him anything. His enthusiasm only spurred you on – you could feel the same excitement that coursed through your veins pouring off of him – and your hands found their way to his hair. You threaded your fingers through his wavy locks to pull him even closer, eliciting a low moan from the back of his throat.

“This feels–” he sighed, “You feel so good.”

“So do you, Mando,” you said breathlessly, smiling against his lips.

“Wanted this, wanted you,” he murmured his lips moving lower to your jaw to leave a warm trail of lingering, openmouthed kisses, each one lower than the last, “Since kriffing Vrogas Vas.” You practically whined under his ministrations and at his words, enchanted by the pleasure he pulled from you. “Why didn’t we do this sooner?”

Reality set in suddenly and sharply, and you stiffened in his hold. He stopped his movements immediately though he wouldn’t let you go. “Because we shouldn’t,” you answered wetly.

“I know, but–” He never finished his sentence, only spitting out a single word of Mando’a. Something that sounded like a curse.

“I’m so sorry. I want this, but I– I can’t–” you murmured, burying your face against his neck and fighting back a sob as your emotions threatened to overwhelm you again. You were so tired of feeling like you would break anytime you thought of your future. Or the future you wouldn’t have with him.

“I know. It’s okay. Just– Just let me hold you.” You’d never heard him sound so sad before, and a whole new wave of sadness washed over you. It wasn’t just your heart that was breaking. He felt it too. He ran his hand up and down your back, trying to soothe you. It sent a shiver through you, and you were keenly aware of the cold bunker around you after stopping your feverish touches. He pulled the threadbare blanket pooled around your waist over your half-bare bodies.

“I don’t want to leave,” you repeated, sounding strangled by your own words.

“Me either, cyar’ika,” he echoed before pressing one last kiss to your temple.

... . ...

Mando'a Translations

Cyar'ika: beloved, sweetheart

Mesh'la: beautiful

Beskar'gam: armor

Mand'alor: sole ruler

... . ...

Thank you for reading!!

Forever Tags: @leo-moon @readsalot73 @frietiemeloen @huliabitch @jerusomeeno @benedrylcumbersnatch @b0n-chann

The Light of Stars Tags: @roxypeanut @mrsparknuts @evidenceofzoe @holographic-carmen

#the mandalorian #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x you #the mandalorian fanfic #fic: the light of stars

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starlightsearches · 5 years

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Office Romance: Ch. 1 Sparring Practice

General Hux and Kylo Ren have found themselves competing for the affection of a lieutenant aboard the Finalizer.

Series Warnings: Language, some violence, near-death experiences.

Masterlist

AN: I originally posted this story on my AO3 account: starlight_searches. Because I know it’s not clear yet in the story, I wanted to mention three things. First, this story takes place before the events of TFA, during the construction of Star Killer Base. Also, the reader character is not a Storm Trooper, and never was. She was an officer on the base who was promoted to work under Phasma. Lastly, I am not super knowledgeable about the Star Wars universe, so if there’s something that exists in our world and also in the Star Wars universe, I’m just going to use the human word for it 😂

Despite your status as a high-ranking official in the First Order, receiving a visit from the Master of the Knights of Ren was incredibly unusual, and generally cause for alarm. So when he marched into your office without knocking and stood before your desk, you couldn’t help but be worried. “Good Evening, Commander Ren,” you said, standing out of respect and trying to keep your voice calm, despite the sense of dread that always followed Ren into a room. He made no reply, so you spoke again, asking, “Is there something that you need?”

“You are skilled in hand to hand combat,” he stated, his voice coming low and deep through the voice synthesizer on his mask. Since joining the First Order, you had made a reputation for yourself as you repeatedly beat many of the other officers in sparring matches, including an intense and now infamous match with General Hux, who, despite appearances, was a skilled and cunning fighter. Phasma was particularly impressed by your skill, and you now assisted her in training the many Storm Troopers under her command. Apparently Phasma and Hux were not the only important members of the Order who knew of your abilities, and now Kylo Ren was interested as well. “Yes, sir,” you replied to his statement, “hand to hand combat is my specialty.”

“And what experience do you have with weapons training?” he asked. “Depends on the weapon in question,” you said, “ I work regularly with blasters, obviously, while training with the Storm Troopers, and I have some experience fighting with a staff and a few other weapons.” He made no immediate reply, and the two stood across from each other, as you waited for him to speak. It was strange to see him this way, so calm and collected, head tilted slightly to the left, almost thoughtful. Normally you saw him on the offensive, arguing with the general, intimidating prisoners, or ripping through the walls of the Finalizer with his lightsaber. After what felt like an eternity under the inquisitive gaze of the mask, he said, “meet me tomorrow morning in the training facilities at 0500 hours for sparring practice,” and left before you could manage to respond.

You woke to your alarm the next morning with an immediate sense of dread in the pit of your stomach. All night you had tossed and turned, worried about the training session the next day. Your sleep was both restless and dreamless, but you swear you could remember waking up in the middle of the night to the smell of burned flesh and the feeling of a lightsaber carving into your skin. You hadn’t had much of a history working with Kylo Ren, but his reputation preceded him, and you knew all about his temper and lethal abilities from listening to Hux complain about the damage he had inflicted both on and off the ship. Sighing, you got out of bed and began to get ready. You weren’t entirely sure what to expect, so you decided to dress how you normally would for a training session, in a dark pair of leggings and loose-fitting tank top, so that you could have a free range of motion. You swept your hair back to keep it out of your face, and then made your way to the officer’s training facilities.

You were a bit early, and Ren had not arrived yet, so you began warming up on your own. There were a few other people in the room, either lifting weights or sparring. You were in the middle of stretching on one of the sparring mats when you heard the door open behind you, and you looked up to see Kylo Ren enter in all of his imposing glory. Everyone else in the room had stopped what they were doing as well, all unsure of what Ren might want.

“Everyone out,” he said, and you watched as the other officers quickly gathered their belongings and left the room, trying to avoid the gaze of Kylo Ren. The door shut as the last person left, and you and Ren were alone. Without speaking, he removed the helmet from off his head, and the cape from off his shoulders. You weren’t exactly surprised by his appearance; you already knew that he was a few years younger than the general, something Hux had mentioned to you once when he went off on one of his tirades. You were, however, surprised by his eyes, which were not what you had expected at all. Dark brown, almost kind and shockingly human. He seemed to be taking in your appearance as well, running his eyes over your frame, in an almost curious manner. You were used to men in positions of power questioning your capabilities; it came with the territory of being a woman in a combat role. But it seemed that Ren was sizing you up without judgement. He saw you as a worthy opponent, that much was certain, or at least the closest thing he could find to one. He approached you, after gathering two practice sabers that he had brought with him, his steps almost hesitant, and you realized that this was the most unsure, the most vulnerable, you had ever seen him. Which isn’t saying much, you thought to yourself. He still looked threatening.

“Lieutenant,” he said in greeting, tossing you a practice saber. You caught it easily from the air, grabbing at the hilt. The weight of it in your hands was not what you expected; the hilt was much heavier than the blade, and you swung it through the air a few times in an attempt to adjust yourself to the weapon. Ren came to stand by you, watching as moved the sword through the air. He cleared his throat before speaking, “are you familiar with this type of weapon?” You shook your head in response, holding the saber still in your hands.

“I’ve never fought with a saber before, but I know quite a bit about staff fighting and I would guess that at least some of the principles are the same,” you responded. Ren nodded in agreement, and you noticed how different it was to be around him when he didn’t have the mask on, almost comfortable. You listened intently as he explained how best to grip the hilt, the basics of stance, and methods for attack and defense. Once he was done explaining the basics, the two of you began sparring.

If you had thought Ren would go easy on you because of your lack of experience, you were soon proven wrong. Sparring with him was intense and exhausting, and although you weren’t using real weapons, each hit from his practice saber was powerful, and you could feel the bruises blooming beneath your skin from some of his sharper attacks. Despite the grueling workout you were getting, he seemed to gain more energy as time went on, growing more and more sure of himself. It looked like he was incredibly proud of himself, as well, and you could have sworn you saw him smile after each victory. The overall effect was aggravating, but at the same time, oddly charming, and you found yourself trying not to blush anytime he corrected your posture or complimented you on performing a particularly difficult move.

You had decided to take a break for a moment, drinking deeply from your water bottle and stretching your aching shoulder muscles. You and Ren were about to start sparring again when you glanced at the clock on the wall. You cursed when you realized the time, and started to grab your belongings. “I almost forgot, I have a meeting with Captain Phasma right now and I’m already late,” you explained as you moved towards the door, stumbling a little when Ren grabbed your arm and pulled you towards him. There was a little more momentum than he had expected, so you ended up standing directly in front of him, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his body; see the freckles dotting his cheeks. Close enough to kiss him, you thought to yourself and you could feel the blush bloom on your cheeks. He took a step back from you, the faintest trace of a blush spreading across his face as well, and he tried to regain his composure. “I can explain your tardiness to Captain Phasma, stay for one more match,” he told you, and you were compelled to comply. “I don’t know if I can handle losing again,” you said, in a tone that was maybe a bit too friendly, grabbing your weapon. “Who knows,” Ren replied with a lightness to his voice you could never have heard through the modulator, as you both took your positions, “maybe this time you’ll get lucky.”

It was obvious from the beginning of the match that you had improved from your first fight, and now more than ever you were determined to win. While Ren’s guidance had helped strengthen your fighting style, you knew you would need a new strategy in order to beat him. His technique was excellent, but there were still small flaws that you began to focus on. Ren was used to fighting at arm's length, relying on his reach to keep his opponents at a distance, and any time you moved into his personal space he would falter. You decided to use this knowledge to your advantage, and the second you found an opportunity you moved in, stopping the movement of his saber from coming down on top of you by grabbing his wrist, with enough momentum from the swing of your own blade to hit him in the side before he could try to block the attack.

“I win,” you whispered, out of breath. Your faces were barely an inch apart, and you could feel the hot grip of his hand at your waist. His breath was warm and heavy, and you could swear you saw him glance down at your lips. The moment, whatever it was, ended quickly, however, as the door opened with a loud swish, and the two of you were shocked out of your reverie by the unexpected visitor.

It was General Hux, and he looked furious.

#armitage hux x reader #kylo ren x reader #hux x you #my writing #office romance #kylo ren x you

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gaiapaia · 3 years

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Kermit and Friends: Regulus

This week’s special guest was Aaron Ozee, author of the very popular children’s book Regulus. The book was such a hit that it was made into an animated film, also titled Regulus. You can purchase the book here and rent or buy a digital version of the film here.

Regulus is about a ‘Rat King’ who refuses to share his cheese with the mice he considers beneath him. Unfortunately for the Rat King, he loses his King status and the bully then becomes the bullied.

The book has a very strong anti-bullying message, and Elisa’s first question to Aaron Ozee was about that. Aaron would explain how he was bullied growing up and how it deeply affected him in a bad way, only then to use it as motivation in an effort to help others going through the same kind of bullying he suffered as a kid.

Bullying would be a strong theme throughout the rest of the show. Elisa got bullied for the shirt she wore, she was verbally abused by her fiancé, accused of exploitation by a moron, dogged by multiple KAF Wrap-Up show hosts... I mean, Elisa was catching flack from all angles this week for little to no reason. It was unbelievable and a bit disheartening if you’re like myself and care about Elisa.

Andy Dick is simply out of control. After trying to con Elisa out of $650 earlier in the week, he called her a “Fat whore” among other horrible names at The Grove in front of strangers and children on Saturday. He even got his ‘boyfriend’ Lucas to join in on the harassment. Just an awful situation that no one deserves, especially Elisa who has treated Andy like absolute gold these last couple of months.

Elisa finally seemed fed up with Andy’s abuse, but it wouldn’t last long. After claiming she was done with him, Andy actually appeared on the show just as Elisa was getting ready to end it. He was being nice and I could tell right away that Elisa would let him back in her good graces.

Andy would give a half-assed apology for his actions from the previous day, only then to call Elisa crazy and psychotic, only again to apologize after that. Elisa not only accepted his apologies but then offered to take him out to eat after the show. It seemed like she wanted to shift all the blame on to that Lucas guy, letting Andy completely off the hook.

People who don’t like Elisa will look at this behavior and call her weak, or they will say she’s hanging on to Andy no matter what he does just because he’s famous. The idiots who say that would be very wrong.

Elisa doesn’t have an angle. She’s been in abusive relationship after abusive relationship. I’m afraid Elisa doesn’t love herself so she’s more attracted to people that treat her like crap. Elisa will turn 33 in June so she’s old enough where this isn’t some wild young woman phase. My theory is subconsciously Elisa believes she deserves the abuse. It could possibly stem from her parents shipping her off to a demonic boarding school where it stuck with Elisa that sort of treatment is what she deserves in this life. She doesn’t deserve it, though. Not at all.

Elisa may not agree with me but I feel I’m right about this because I’m speaking from personal experience. I deal with the same self-loathing issues I believe Elisa has, but it’s easy for me to sit here and say Elisa should start loving herself more than to look in the mirror and tell myself the same. One of the many reasons why I will never look at Elisa in a bad light is because I can relate to the inner-struggle she’s been going through all these years. I just wish there was a way Elisa could see herself in the same spectacular light I see her in.

Elisa talked about these grandiose visions she had of herself and Andy, being featured on the cover of Forbes magazine, creating hit music, starring in movies... the works.

Just think about this... if you’re reading this blog, you already know how talented Elisa is, even if you don’t like her. You know she’s already achieved a level of success that not 1% of the population will achieve in the entertainment industry. So why does she need someone like Andy freakin’ Dick in order to vision herself on the cover of Forbes magazine? Imagine if Elisa set the goal without a man or anyone else’s help by her side... could she do it? I 100% believe she could if she gave it her all. I understand success isn’t anywhere near as fulfilling when you don’t have anyone to share it with, but you should at least strive to share your success with someone who treats you well.

Anyways, I apologize for jumping out of the review to share my personal feelings. I’m not happy with Andy, I’m not happy with that relationship. I want Elisa to have fun and create a show she can be proud of. It’s easier to accomplish that with a wacky outgoing famous guy like Andy Dick, I get that... but at this point, in my opinion, it’s not worth it if this is how Andy is going to treat Elisa.

Elisa is a grown woman though capable of making her own decisions. I will always love Elisa and wish the best for her because I know she has a beautiful heart/soul and her intentions are always good. There’s more I want to say about the situation but I’ll move on.

Back to Aaron Ozee... he gave a fantastic interview. He’s a very positive guy with big goals but also humble and polite. T-Bob tried to ruffle Aaron’s feathers with a couple of asinine questions about Black Lives Matter, and Aaron couldn’t have handled it more eloquently, even winning Trumpster Bob over (no easy feat). I was extremely impressed. On top of that, Aaron was respectful and non-judgmental to every KAF regular he talked to. Just a truly swell guy and I hope to see him more often on the show.

Kermit made a couple of new friends this week. One was Johnny B’s alter ego, Joannie B. Think Robin Williams as Mrs. Doubtfire and that’s Joannie B. Very humorous stuff. A guy in some kind of Star Wars helmet named White Kanye also made his debut on Kermit and Friends. Apparently he’s been in some escapades with Andy Dick and told some stories. Unfortunately, it was impossible to tell if he was being truthful.

Chris Christine blessed the show with her presence again. She opened up about the 20 years she spent in the American military and how it led to some traumatic mental anguish. Chris credited an Andy Dick Cameo she received as to why she didn’t commit suicide a couple of years ago. She was incredibly sweet and even offered to pay Andy that $650 I mentioned above. Chris also said a lovely prayer for Elisa and Andy. What a sweet soul Chris is all around, she’s easily one of my new favorites.

Sharmin and Dr. Roy joined us in Miami. They’ve been having a vacation together and they helped Elisa sort through her feelings regarding Andy. It was awesome to see them having fun and looking so happy.

Eric Riggs had another sex video presented on the show, this time involving a pen and his rear end. Eric called in and made Elisa shut off the video before the conclusion. He was fine with last week’s sex tape but I guess this week he felt embarrassed. Eric would later read a poem about some woman named Mindy that owes him money, which also somehow involved Elisa’s vagina and horseradish. One of the weirdest poems I’ve ever heard but hey... that’s Kermit and Friends.

Barry “Boss” Mezey called into the show to accuse Elisa of exploiting Kermit’s friends. Barry fails to realize that Elisa gives a platform to literally anyone who wants to make use of it, and the people who garner the most interest from the audience are the people Elisa will feature the most, just like every other reality show in human existence. Barry’s phone calls could not have been more wrong, shame on him.

Lastly, Elisa sort of snapped this week on a chatter by the name of Nikki. Nikki criticized Elisa’s shirt and then said she could have a more popular show than Kermit and Friends if she tried. I think Elisa had some pent up frustration regarding Andy and sort of it took it out on Nikki, which by my estimation Nikki honestly deserved anyway. I just wish Elisa had that same fire not to put up with Andy’s BS. But Nikki has said some very mean things about Elisa in the past, both on Discord and on other Kermitarian related streams, so it’s not like Elisa attacked some innocent princess who made one bad comment. Nikki can be funny but she’s not a nice person at all, so while I commend Elisa for apologizing and feeling guilty over her words to Nikki... sometimes the bully gets bullied just like in Regulus.

The show ended with Elisa playing yet another tremendously creative music video from her talented co-host, Sugar. Overall it was a good show. The interview with Aaron was very professional and well done, and the Andy stuff I’m certain was entertaining for most people. KAF continues to deliver every week, just as I’m sure it will next week. 'Til then, I sincerely thank everyone for reading and I hope you all have a superb week... well, unless your name is Andy Dick, in which case you deserve a very bad week with another bite to the face from my main man Fozzie.

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kachuwritings · 7 years

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Lust Knows No Limits

Pairing: SeungcheolxReader Genre: smut, fluff Word Count: 3K+ Synopsis: Your rather obvious swooning over the school’s heartthrob and bad boy Choi Seungcheol made him realize his feelings for you. But unfortunately, you were oblivious to them, so one day he snapped and couldn’t control his lust anymore…

The look in his eyes could have melted ice. His intense stare let every girl in the entire school drool over him. Not to mention his pretty, long eyelashes that encircled his eyes and sparked a mischievous twinkle in his stare. His lips looked velvety smooth, pink and absolutely kissable. You wondered how many girls already had the honour to meet them. But that wasn’t all, his features were overall manly, yet soft at the same time, concluding with his fluffy and slightly messy, black hair, it was only natural that he was the school’s heartthrob. Each morning he’d drive into the school’s parking lot with his pitch black motorcycle. The safety helmet was the cause of his ever-lasting messy hair, which made him look even more desirable. Dressed in a black leather jacket over a plain white tee, black ripped jeans and ankle boots, he wasn’t only the school’s heartthrob but also the school’s number one bad boy. Or that was at least what he appeared to be. Everyone respected him since he looked like he could kill someone with a few punches, his black belt in taekwondo definitely attributing to the respect he was receiving. Little did everyone know that he was actually a softie beneath his bad boy attire but of course, he couldn’t show this side of him to the public, he had a reputation to uphold after all. You didn’t like admitting it, but he had you smitten over him.

“His brown eyes clear, his cheerful smile. If only he could notice me,” you swooned a few minutes after he had passed you in the hallway, seemingly oblivious to your staring at him. “Geez, calm yourself, girl,” Seungkwan, your best friend, groaned. “you behave as if he could get you pregnant with his stare alone.” You snorted. “With his appearance I wouldn’t be surprised if he actually could,” you giggled back at Seungkwan, who gave you a questioning look with one of his eyebrows raised. “What?” you complained. “Nothing, nothing, love,” he waved aside, patting your shoulder in a rather pitiful manner.

Later that day in class you found yourself staring at Seungcheol’s side profile, totally zoning out and forgetting that you should pay attention during class…or at least pretend to do so. You on the other hand did the opposite and obviously stared at him, so that your teacher didn’t take long to catch onto your little reverie about Choi Seungcheol. “Miss Y/L/N, would you mind paying a little more attention to my lesson and a little less to dreamingly staring at Mr. Choi?” The whole class broke out into a fit of laughter and giggles, leaving you amidst them, basically as red as a tomato. Blushing feverishly, you lowered your gaze onto your lap and felt ashamed. It wasn’t a secret that girls were usually into Seungcheol, but having your teacher call you out on that was a whole different story. As you dared looking up again, you directly stared into the eyes of none other than Choi Seungcheol himself. He waited for you to notice him and as you did, he gave you a cheeky grin and then turned around again, facing the other direction.

This had basically been your everyday life in high school. Staring at Seungcheol, while trying not to get caught and dwelling in your daydreams about riding white horses along the beach with him at sunset. Granted, that wasn’t the most exciting life a person could live, but as long as you could stare at him from afar without causing any more troubles than on that day, you were fine with it.

The next day had been oddly warm for a common spring day, so you decided to dress up in a low-cut belly top underneath your jacket, with a high-waisted skirt and see-through stockings, topping it off with some heeled ankle boots. You’d usually go for a more casual look, however today you felt a tad bit daring. Blame it on the spring fever.

As you walked into the school building you definitely noticed more eyes on you than usual. However, you tried not to get self-conscious and insecure about it. Today, you just wanted to embrace yourself and feel good in your own body, these things happened way too rarely and you knew, you had to work on your self-esteem and your self-love. Strutting down the hallways, you listened to your favourite song through your earphones, gently moving your head from side to side to the beat. Completely lost in the moment and your music, you missed Seungcheol’s eyes following you interestingly down the hall. He seemed to have been affected by your appearance, taking in a deep breath after you’ve passed and trying to keep his composure. Someday, he’ll snap, he thought to himself…

You had always been the type of person that was oblivious to someone liking you. A person had to practically scream their confession into your face, so that you’d have realized that they liked you. Needless to say, you wouldn’t have realized a guy, even Seungcheol, lying his eyes on you.

And so, the days, even weeks, passed without you noticing Seungcheol’s glances. You would have never thought that someone as popular and overall…well, perfect like him would even spare a glance at you. But Seungkwan noticed, oh, that he did. He always tried to tell you, yet you never believed him, thinking he only wanted to cheer you up.

Why did you even have to end up crushing on the school’s heartthrob in the first place? You didn’t want to appear like the basic girl who’s only into popular and handsome guys. You couldn’t describe it but something about Seungcheol felt off, not in a bad way, though. It was as if you could see right through him and catch onto his bad boy shenanigans. Not to claim that he wasn’t a bad boy at all but you just knew that there was another side to him, a much softer one, that seemed to fit his true personality more. And that was what made you so interested in him. You wanted to get to know the real him, you wanted to see the person behind the beautiful smile that could break hearts and the sparkling eyes that had ice melting within seconds, you wanted to find out who Choi Seungcheol really was.

“Seungkwan, I swear I’m going crazy,” you groaned, “can’t you just make this stupid crush of mine go away?”

With you pouting at him, he smiled apologetically at you. “I would if I could, love.”

Seungkwan was always there for you when you had needed mental support. You had known each other for god knows how long, him seeing a little sister in you that he had to protect. You really loved him, in a platonic way. You knew Seungkwan only wanted the best for you and you appreciated it a lot that he didn’t feel like making fun of you when you were in another love crisis because of Seungcheol. He was always sweet, caring, and the best friend you could have ever imagined.

“But I really mean it,” you continued, “it’s like deep in my thoughts, I can see him approaching.”

Seungkwan gave you a strange look and tried to say something when you cut him off. “It’s so weird…am I already dreaming of Prince Charming in the form of Choi Seungcheol appearing in front of me, walking straight up to me and then asking me to be his girlfriend?”

This time Seungkwan put a finger on your lips to shush you. “uhm, y/n, you’re not dreaming this…he’s actually walking right up to you", then he turned you around and gave you a little push. “There. See for yourself.”

And what he had just said turned out to be the truth. There he was, Choi Seungcheol in all his glory, the usual black ripped jeans, a blue and black striped sweater with a wide cut neckline, so that it exposed his collarbones, and black vans, walking straight up to you and halting right about a foot in front of you.

The room went silent around the two of you, it seemed like you could only take him in and everything else vanished around you. Your focus was solely on him and the way he looked at you with his famous intense stare but this time, he was also licking his lips. This was new. His tongue swept out over his bottom lip, wetting it and leaving it glistening, so that they looked even more tasteful and inviting than just a second ago. Oh sweet baby Jesus, what was this man doing to you? But before you could fall deeper into your daydreams about Seungcheol and his deadly gorgeous lips, he grabbed your hand rather urgently and rushed you through the hallways and into an empty classroom, locking the door after the two of you had entered.

Not even a blink later, he had you pushed against the door, the proximity between the both of you making you feel his breath ghost over your cheek. “You,” he lowly stated. “I’m fed up with your little games.”

You stared at him in confusion, not really understanding what he was hinting at. Cutting off the space between the two of you even more, he whispered gently into your ear. “Haven’t you noticed the looks I’ve always sent your way?”

“You always dress so well and it makes my mind go places, darling,” he whispered and then nibbled softly on your earlobe after finishing his sentence. Your breath hitched in your throat and you didn’t know what to say in return, suddenly at a loss for words.

“It’s okay baby girl, I know you want me, too,” he hummed lowly against your skin, while kissing a trail down your neck. You let it happen and couldn’t believe that your dreams were becoming a reality in that given moment.

“I’ve wanted you for so long, baby girl,” he said in a husky voice. “Your body already gives me the answer, but I want to hear it out of your pretty mouth, tell me, do you want me too?”

Without needing to think about it, you replied with a rushed “yes,“ and slammed your lips onto his. He latched onto yours as if it was the only thing to keep him alive. Trapped in between the door and his body, you couldn’t do much more as pressing yourself even further into him, feeling every fibre of his being so close to you that it almost made you choke on air.

He deepened the kiss and let his hands roam all over your body. The passion in his movements spurred you on and you pressed yourself into his touches. Grabbing your boobs, he gently massaged them through your blouse while still toying with your mouth. Slowly but determinedly, he unbuttoned your black silk blouse, pushing it down your arms and ridding you off the garment. Back on your body with his hands, you could actually feel his fingertips sliding over your bare skin, starting at your neck, over your collarbones and shoulders, down your chest and wrapping themselves around your waist eventually. He pressed himself into you, and you brought your hands up to his hair to tug on them lightly.

Feeling a sudden stream of confidence washing over you, you pushed him back and guided him to sit onto the nearest desk. Without further ado you guided your lips to his neck to lick and suck on his soft skin. Sliding your hands downwards, you continued until you found the hem of his sweater, slowly pushing the material up and over his head. Your lips attached themselves to his skin again, this time sucking lightly on his collarbone. Your hands rested in his lap and you could feel the prominent arousal inside his pants, so you made sure to teasingly rub over the material with your hands, earning a groan out of him.

“Yes, baby girl, that feels good,” he sighed. The sounds he made caused a pool forming itself inside your panties.

While you were busy marking his skin with tiny love bites, he got his hands on the waistband of your skirt and made sure to strip you out of it. The material pooled around your ankles but before he could go any further, you lowered yourself onto your knees, so that you were at eye level with his crotch. Glancing up at him with big, innocent eyes while biting your lip, you rid him off his jeans and he assisted you in sliding them down his legs. Now leaving him in his boxers, you could see the very prominent outline of his member, strained against the soft cotton of his underwear. He looked down at you expectantly and licked his lips in anticipation.

“C'mon, suck me off like the good girl you are,” he said, voice laced thickly with lust. You didn’t hesitate to do as he ordered and glided your hands up his muscular thighs, appreciating how the muscles tensed under your touch. When you finally reached the area he’d been waiting to get touched by you, he let out a low moan and threw his head back. “Yes, just like that” he sighed.

Hastily, you freed his member from his boxers and started to pump him a few times, spreading the pre-cum over his length, using it as lubrication. You could feel him harden a bit more from your touch, then you brought your mouth up to his member and licked a stripe all up from his base to the tip, eliciting another moan out of him. Your tongue swirled and swivelled around his tip a little until you took him in fully and started to bob your head up and down on his length, taking in as much as you could fit. “Fuck, yes. Don’t stop baby girl,” he groaned. Every once in a while, you halted at his tip, to pay some extra attention to his most sensitive area. Sucking on his tip expertly, you looked up at him and locked eyes with him. He stared into your eyes with a fever and determination you couldn’t quite comprehend. His breath came out husky and ragged through his mouth, sometimes accompanied by a sensual growl or a low moan. His hand found itself tangled in your hair, gently guiding you up and down on him, controlling your pace. He bit his lip at the sight of you right in front of him and had to hold back his nearing orgasm.

In a sudden motion, he pulled you up, his member leaving your mouth with a noticeable ‘plop’. “You’re amazing baby girl, but right now I need to be inside you.”

He gently kissed the spot beneath your earlobe. “Be a good girl and turn around for me,” he whispered. As you did so, he instantly grabbed your ass and ripped off your panties after delivering a hard slap onto it. He just stood still for a moment, admiring the view you were giving him, soothingly rubbing over the place he had just slapped seconds ago. “So beautiful,” he muttered to himself before he bent down to search for a condom in his discarded pants on the floor.

Rolling it over his length, he wasted no time in positioning himself right at your entrance, pumping himself a few more times. “Are you ready to take my dick, baby girl?” he asked. As soon as you nodded, he pushed inside slowly, relishing in the warmth and tightness of your walls around him.

“Ah, you’re so tight baby,” he moaned. Fastening his pace inside of you made you scream out in ecstasy, moaning his name loudly.

“Moan my name again, baby, it sounds so hot rolling off of your tongue,” he growled, totally out of breath. You did as he demanded and screamed out his name in the sweetest fucked out voice every time he hit your sensitive spot.

His thrusts got sharper and faster, signalling you that he was nearing his high. You could feel the orgasm slowly approaching within you as well. A tight knot was forming in your lower abdomen, making you almost lose your sanity. Seungcheol grabbed around your body and found your clit with his one hand, starting to rub gentle circles on it. With his other hand he was holding your hips to control his thrusts better and steady himself behind you. As he continued rubbing your clit, he rolled it in between two of his fingers, making you feel the high approaching way faster than it had been before. Completely focusing on what was happening at that moment, you relished in the blissful feelings of his dick pounding into you and hitting your g-spot from all the right angles and his skilled fingers rubbing you into unconsciousness. The knot in your abdomen tightened even more and finally exploded, creating a wave of intense emotions that flushed through your whole body. You screamed out his name repeatedly as you came shivering and hard, your walls tightening and clenching rhythmically around his member. Breathing deeply, you slowly calmed down from your orgasm when you felt Seungcheol’s hips jerking in and out of you sloppily, signifying that he’s about to reach his peak as well. Throwing him over the edge with a last swirl of your hips, he moaned out your name while he released inside the condom, soon after he collapsed on top of you.

“Seungcheol,” you huffed, “you’re heavy.”

Blushing faintly and breathing shallowly, he apologized and placed himself next to you. After a few minutes of just lying there, calming down and getting your heartbeat to a normal rate again, he took your hand in his and gave your knuckles a quick kiss.

“Normally it’s the other way around but can I take you out on a date?” he asked, staring into your eyes lovingly.

“Nothing rather than that,” you replied, kissing him softly. Sometimes letting sheer lust take over wasn’t so bad after all.

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strainofthestress · 7 years

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Fanfic: Someone to Share it With Ch.2

Eos, 1100

The barren desert of Eos stretched hugely in front of them. From their view on the plateau, Vetra and Ryder could see a vast expanse of rocks and sand to the south, large formations poking out of the flat ground like bones of a long lost creature. Hot air rose from the sands beneath their feet, laden with the oppressive smell of centuries of barren heat, the dust filling their lungs with every breath. Ryder alone had drank five gallons of water since touching down, and even still his mouth was always dry, the chalk in his throat catching his voice and aging him, sounds of decades given in minutes.

The edge of their chosen plateau brought a steep drop, the hundreds of feet below masked by the uniformity of the sand beneath, an illusion of safety, much like the rest of the planet. What had seemed simply an arid climate was a sand-blasted wasteland of radiation, wind storms, and seemingly everything a planet could do to break modern technology. Where settlers had once judged water potable and the empty desert a new home sat only the broken remains of hope. Vetra stepped to the edge, looking over to peer at the sand below.

“Fifty credits says we make it.”

Vetra turned around, the pathfinder sweating in his hard suit behind her. While his eyes were hard to make out behind the tinted mask, the false confidence of his voice and the hands on his sideways cocked hips was unmistakable.

“You’re gonna have to bet a lot more to convince me to go over that in that death trap with you.”

“Fine, one hundred credits.”

Vetra narrowed her eyes at Ryder, her visor sensing the motion and giving a more detailed read-out. She scanned his stats, wishing she had paid more attention in the multi-species anatomy orientation in the Milky Way before departing. Still, bluffing looked the same in every species.

“You know, Pathfinder, I can’t tell if I want to call you on your bluff or point out that we’re looking for Remnant installations, not dare-devil jumps.”

“Who says I’m bluffing?”

“Please. I’ve faked my way through plenty of situations in my time. The first rule of bluffing your way through something: you have to be at least somewhat able to deliver: If they call your bluff, you need to at least have some sort of way out. And the only way I see you getting out of this one is on a stretcher with a furious Lexi next to you.”

“God, that sounds horrifying.”

Vetra turned from the pathfinder, looking intently at the Nomad behind them. Specs on every aspect of the machine, from its drive train to its body material flashed in front of her, until eventually the one she needed appeared: “Max Fall: 300 d, Standard G”. A quick glance at the pathfinder found him distracted by the view beside them, his resolution for making the jump apparently not strong enough to keep his interest. Vetra walked to the gap, pointing her visor at the ground, a the upper left hand corner of her field of view setting it to marksman mode: “Range: 268 d”. A small smirk crawled over her face.

“You know what, fine, I’ll take your bet.”

Wes turned around, the stunned look visible even through the blue tinted helmet.

“What?”

The Turian swaggered towards him, her mandibles flaring as she smelled the blood.

“You heard me. I’ll take your bet. 100 Credits, if we survive that jump. But…” A single Turian finger went up “If you chicken out, you have to back me up in a deal of my choosing.”

Ryder’s eyes darted wildly as Vetra laughed internally, watching the pathfinder fidget. He walked with urgent speed, trying not to show how nervous he was, to the side of the cliff, before staring back at the Nomad, his omnitool coming up to show a few frantic calculations. Vetra could see his heart rate rise as he walked forwards, extending a hand which was quickly taken.

“Alright. Fine. Let’s do it.”

Vetra gestured to the waiting Nomad.

“Yes, let’s.”

Ryder walked to the doors of the vehicle with the same mix of fake calm and underlying terror, his hands doing a poor job of concealing their shaking as he secured the five point harness on the seat. Vetra climbed in after him, confidence oozing as she sat smugly in the passenger seat, her self-satisfied grin not leaving her face as she strapped herself in. She usually made it a habit not to let associates see her win or lose – If they never see both, they’ll never know when they’ve witnessed either. But she had the pathfinder cornered, a little bit of smugness seemed appropriate.

The electrical drive of the vehicle purred as they backed away from the cliff, the vehicle stopping as Vetra turned to see the pathfinder staring ahead with fixed eyes, his hands twitchy on the wheel. Without warning the vehicle lurched forwards, the engine screaming as the boost jets exploded behind them, the movement forcing Vetra into her chair as the Nomad flew off the plateau, the boost jets firing as soon as the wheels left the ground.

For an instant, Vetra could see as everything in the cabin experienced a brief moment of weightlessness, the straps from the pathfinder’s and her armor floating up around them, the familiar fall in her stomach as her body lost track of gravity. Then, the gut-dropping feeling of a fall returned as she watched the sky and surroundings flash past through the window, the ground rushing towards them with alarming speed. The boost jets engaged one last time, a mere 50 yards from the ground as her comms sounded over the racket of the rushing wind and the still running engine, the pathfinder yelling at the top of his voice:

“Oh Shi…”

Tempest Med-bay, 1230

“And what was it again that convinced both of you that throwing the Nomad off the cliff was a good idea?”

Dr. T’Perro’s soft voice sounded smoothly through the medical bay, but not without the biting edge of a parent’s reprimand. Wes and Vetra were sitting facing each other, Ryder with a cast over his arm, Vetra a healing pad on her neck. Silence passed momentarily between the two as they looked at each-other, trying to figure out how to answer. Dr. T’Perro called again, incredulously.

“Well?”

Vetra tried first.

“We were on top of a plateau and saw something at the bottom… going off was just the most direct route.”

Dr. T’Perro’s laugh, though soft, did nothing to make the two feel any less like scolded children.

“Vetra, while I’m sure you’re not technically wrong, I have a suspicion that’s not quite the full story. Ryder, would you care to give it a try?”

The pathfinder fidgeted with his armor under suit for a pit, scraping dust out of one of the crevices, decidedly avoiding eye contact. When he finally did meet Dr. T’Perro’s gaze, the faux casualness in his voice was unmistakable for nerves.

“Well, doc, truth be told we were all getting a little bored and frustrated down there. Liam had wanted to stick around Site 1 and keep investigating there, so Vetra and I went off to the plateau and I bet her that we could make it. Pure and simple.”

“I didn’t ask what happened, Ryder. I want to know why.”

Set on his heels, Ryder’s eyes darted from side to side, occasionally making eye-contact with Vetra and cursing his poor ability to read Turian faces. Eventually, an answer came out, cautiously.

“I dunno doc, I just… I guess I wanted to have a little fun. I did stupid shit like this more often than I’d like to admit back in my Alliance days. I guess… I guess the stress of the past two days has just been a bit much, needed to relieve the pressure a bit, you know?”

Dr. T’Perro’s lips became a line as she nodded slowly, clearly considering Ryder’s answer. She walked between the two, looking between the datapad which had been in her hand and the wall terminal as she input medical data, her silence weighing heavily on the two figures behind her. The sound of the Tempest’s HVAC system filled the room before Dr. T’Perro turned around, setting the datapad on the bed and crossing her arms as she spoke.

“Be it no place of mine to tell you how to do your job, Pathfinder, it is my place to monitor the health of this crew, mentally and physically. And, whether you like it or not, you as the Pathfinder affect the welfare of this crew, and ultimately the initiative overall…”

“I know.”

The interruption from Ryder came suddenly, quietly. His voice, though not loud, commanded the room with the gravitas it held, the hours of solemn contemplation and personal reconciliation that had been told in the two words. Vetra’s mandibles twitched, Dr. T’Perro paused, levelling Ryder with scroupulous eyes. Ryder continued.

“I know that this is my responsibility. I know that I’m the pathfinder now, that I have to ‘lead the initiative’ and find a home for everybody. Trust me, Doc, I know what that means.”

Dr. T’Perro’s voice was steady, less aggressive, though no less firm. It demanded to be heard in a soft tone of the authority which can come only from wisdom and expertise,

“I’m sure you understand the responsibility, Ryder, but I’m not certain you understand the scope of it. The disillusionment which has spread, through the Nexus when the arks failed to arrive and through Hyperion when Habitat 7 was a bust, has left people desperate for a role model, a leader, an example. A pathfinder, no matter how new or unintended, is automatically that leader. Through not just your words, but your actions and reactions, you set the attitude and tone for this ship, if not the whole initiative. This doesn’t mean you have to be invincible, if anything a touch of fallibility would aide in empathetic emotional response useful to leaders. But it does mean you have to watch what you do – things like jumping off a cliff with the Nomad – carefully, and consider what they mean.”

The hum of the HVAC returned to the medical bay, filling the space, smothering any response which could come. Ryder was staring blankly into the distance through the deck plating, his eyes glossy and thoughtful, almost unblinking. Words sat on the edge of his tongue, protests of circumstance and excuses of situation, but they all fell mute when put against the importance his title gave his actions. Dr. T’Perro broke the silence with her data pad, the electronic chirps and whirrs grating against the mellow background as she input data into the incident report, stopping eventually to speak.

“Now, as far as I’m concerned you sustained your injury by falling at great height. Not wrong, and nobody needs to know anything else. I would encourage you, though, to consider what your actions say to those around you.”

Ryder and Vetra, sensing their clue to leave, stood up and walked towards the door.

“Oh, and Ryder?”

The pathfinder turned around to see a small smile on the Asari’s face.

“Please remember that ‘Max Drop’ refers to the vehicle’s structural integrity, not the damage caused when a human arm violently makes contact with a Turian’s neck?”

Pathfinder’s Quarters, 2200

The coffee warmed Ryder’s mind as he poured over the data reports from the Remnant installations, the words scrolling past his eyes with seeming no exchange of information. His specialty was in reconnaissance and scouting, not data management, and certainly not in xenoengineering. The information in front of him might as well have been a foreign language, but with Tann asking for a report on his findings, he had convinced himself that reading up on Remnant Tech would be useful. That conversation with himself had happened 6 hours ago.

A small chime from the door drew his bleary eyes from the illuminated screen, the display turning off automatically as he pushed his chair back, swiveling and standing up in it, a drop of coffee falling unnoticed on his pants. Vetra stood at the door, her eyes scanning the room again, despite this being her second visit.

“Vetra, please, come in. What’s up?”

“Just wanted to level with you. Figure we survived the fall, and you didn’t chicken out.”

Ryder laughed, shaking his head as he gestured Vetra farther into the room, even her informal Turian upbringing telling her not to enter farther into a room without superior’s permission. His voice was laden with equal parts embarrassment, bemusement, and shame as he spoke conversationally to her, a slight undertone of disappointment sneaking in at the end.

“Please, don’t. You heard what Lexi said: I shouldn’t have even done it in the first place.”

Vetra shook her head, drawing her omnitool up and keying in a transfer of credits to Ryder, his omni lighting up shortly thereafter.

“Pathfinder, I was there, it doesn’t matter whether I saw it or not. Besides, a bet is a bet. I keep my word.”

Ryder laughed, picking his coffee up to his mouth to take a sip, setting the cup down gently on a spot on the table which was coffee stained enough, it was clear to anyone how much time Ryder spent reading reports on the couch.

“Fair enough. Fair enough. Just, please don’t tell the rest of the crew? I feel bad enough for having done it, period, not to mention if everybody heard about it.

“Don’t worry, pathfinder, they won’t hear it from me.”

“Good.”

The conversation died abruptly, neither party believing it to be over, but neither knowing where to go next. Eventually, Ryder broke the silence, his voice slightly unsure again, embarrassed about his own insecurities now instead of his own mistakes.

“I really should have thought like this sooner. What was I thinking, driving the Nomad off a cliff… Lexi is right, I do set the example. I just hope I can set the example the initiative needs.”

Vetra’s response was calm, assured, as if she spoke of things she already knew. Since discovering the possibility of a new outpost on Eos, she had seemed to be downright hopeful, a window of idealism peeking out past her characteristic utilitarian realism.

“You’ll be able to. Heroes always emerge, whether they’re born or made. And I figure, with the title pathfinder, and being the last one’s son? You’ve already got a head start on two.”

Ryder shrugged, worry passed off unconvincingly as casual devil-may-care.

“Thanks Vetra, we’ll see. Figure we’ll all making mistakes together. Only difference is, sometimes mine have bigger consequences.”

Vetra nodded, walking to the door before turning around and saying

“You know, Ryder, I was there for the cliff jump, and I’m pretty good at keeping my mouth shut. If you ever need to do something stupid again, just call me up. I’ll keep quiet.”

Ryder’s chuckle was the first of genuine humor Vetra had heard, and his face seem relaxed at the humorous offer. Vetra made her way through the door, but the two kept talking ntil she was half-way down the corridor, yelling across the open door.

“What happened to that laser focus?”

“It’s my job to get you everything you need, if that means time and means to do stupid shit, who am I to stop you.”

“That’s the most roundabout way to justify driving off a cliff I’ve heard, but I’ll take it. Have a good night, Vetra.”

“You too, Ryder. You know where to find me.”

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