#browns have pretty much never had anything on their helmets let’s keep it that way

[litwhorees]

browns permanently bring back white face mask !

but change to a glossy finish :/

[wild-karrde]

In Command - Part 18

Master List | Previous Part | Next Part

A/N: A NEW CHAPTER FINALLY EMERGES!! It's been a bonkers last little bit, but WE'RE BACK. As always, thank you to the outstanding @teletraan-meets-jarvis for beta-reading for me!

Chapter Rating: E (18+ MINORS SKEEDADDLE)

Warnings: language, explicit sexual content

Word Count: 7.1k words

Senna untangled herself from Hunter’s limbs and rolled off of him, patting his chest plate. “That was fun, but let’s never do that again, yeah?”

“No complaints from me,” the sergeant grunted, pulling his helmet off to reveal a smirk and letting his head fall back against the floor of the ship for a moment with a dull thud. 

Tech already had the ship halfway to hyperspace, the engines whining with effort, and Wrecker was scrambling out of the gunner’s nest at the rear of the ship to meet them. 

“Are you alright?” he boomed, worry furrowing his brows.

“Never better, Wrecker,” Echo said between panting breaths, leaning against the wall where he’d sunk to the floor heavily after he’d closed the hatch.

Senna reached over to him and squeezed his arm. “Thanks for sticking around and not bailing on me back there.”

“Not exactly our style,” Echo joked. “Besides, pretty sure Rex would have had something to say about it.”

“You’re damn right I would have,” Rex called from one of the seats Wrecker had placed him in. He was leaning awkwardly on what appeared to be a communications console, and he winced slightly as he shifted, his eyes finding Senna’s. The relief was evident. “What the hell happened out there?”

Senna got to her feet, reaching down and pulling Hunter up with her. 

“Not entirely sure if I’m honest. Had the usual small army after us, but there was someone new. He called himself an Inquisitor.” She shuddered at the memory of his eyes and the chill that seemed to accompany his presence in the Force. “Anything you’ve come across before?” she asked Echo as he stood and removed his helmet. 

The former ARC trooper shrugged, shaking his head, and Senna felt a tingle at how similar the gesture was to Rex. Of course they were clones, but it was clear they’d picked up some of each other’s mannerisms in the time they’d served together. 

Brothers in more than just their biology. So different and yet so very much the same in some ways. 

She felt the ship shudder as it finally entered hyperspace, and Tech came strolling back from the front of the ship, eyes locked on a datapad in his hands.

“I’ve heard rumors of such an individual on Imperial comm chatter. A dark Force wielder the Emperor and his apprentice are using to track down remaining Jedi. I just did not have confirmation of his existence until now.”

“A dark Force wielder?” Senna asked, trying to fight the bile rising in her throat. 

Turned Jedi? Or something else entirely?

“Yes,” Tech replied evenly, meeting her eyes and adjusting his goggles. “Although little is known about his origins.”

“Great, one more thing to worry about,” Senna muttered, picking her bag up off the floor where Tech had hurriedly dropped it and trying to keep her face neutral. She couldn’t say she was as unphased as Tech seemed. Her mind was already working the problem as she strode towards the rear of the ship, wondering how many Inquisitors could exist after only a year and who could be among them. Warm fingers intertwined with hers, jerking her from her thoughts, and piercing brown eyes searched hers. 

“Let it breathe a bit,” Rex said quietly. “I can see you’re just going to frustrate yourself trying to get to the bottom of this. You’re running low on sleep and need some time.” 

Senna grinned, glancing around to make sure none of the other clones were watching before leaning down to whisper in his ear. 

“And whose fault is that?” 

She couldn’t help but grin at the way Rex faltered slightly, his eyes flicking to her mouth for a moment before he recomposed himself. It was a microscopic tell in the grand scheme of things, but she loved that she could see it, and that she was the cause. Some of the tension slipped from her shoulders as she grounded herself in his gaze.

“I’m just saying you should give yourself some time to recover. We’re safe. And I don’t want to see you burn yourself out,” Rex tried again.

Her hand slid to his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. “Yes, sir.” 

Rex rolled his eyes with a smirk, and Senna let loose a quiet giggle as she hauled her rucksack back towards some storage bins she’d spotted at the rear of the ship. The Marauder was a decent size, but the last thing she wanted to do was clutter it up, especially after Echo and his brothers had just saved her and Rex. Her eyes raked over the control panels as she moved through the hold, cataloging a list of questions about the modifications to the ship to be asked later. Tech followed behind her, pointing at one of the closed storage bins above her head. 

“That one should be mostly empty and will likely be large enough to hold your things if you wish.”

“Thanks,” she said, dipping her head in acknowledgement as he turned around to head back towards the front of the ship. Glancing over, Senna saw Rex had his back to her, engaged in conversation with Hunter and Echo. He seemed relaxed and happy, and while he was still clearly in pain, he was gesturing animatedly, as if he’d forgotten about his wounds as he caught up with his brothers. It was easy to see the bond he shared with them, the ones he’d found after he’d lost everything. 

He deserves that happiness. I’m glad he has them. 

She smiled as she reached up and unlocked the storage container, lifting the lid outward. A few haphazardly stowed items tumbled out, one of which bounced off her foot with a loud clatter. Tossing her bag into the empty side of the bin, she reached down to retrieve the fallen equipment. Her fingers locked around plastoid, and when she looked down at what she was holding, her heart jolted in her chest, and she suddenly couldn’t breathe.

The blue Jaig eyes from her dreams were staring back at her from the helmet in her hands. 

Several other pieces of armor had tumbled out of the bin, white with royal blue accents, covered in scuffs and scratches. Senna fell backwards with a yelp, dropping the helmet and scrambling away from the painted symbolic eyes that were boring into her until her back hit the opposite side of the hull. Her eyes took in the hash marks on the armor, the marring across the blue paint, the kama and pauldron dangling from the storage bin that matched perfectly with what she’d seen in her dreams. 

It’s him. It’s his armor. It’s real.

Tech returned, looking concerned.

“Are you alright?”

Senna’s heart was racing, but she tried to not allow her shock to betray her. 

What does this mean? 

She felt Tech still watching her, and a trace of curiosity furrowed his brows. Taking a deep breath, she gave him a tight smile. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just got surprised.”

She couldn’t stop her eyes from flicking back to the heap of armor. Tech followed her gaze and sighed when he saw the gear on the floor. 

“I told Wrecker that he should stow that gear properly or it would booby trap the first person to open the bin. My apologies.” He stooped to pick up the helmet, placing it and the other armor pieces back into the storage bin.

“That’s… that’s Wrecker’s armor?” Senna attempted to ask casually. She knew it was a stupid question, but she suddenly felt the need to fill the space with words as her mind frantically worked to pull the pieces together.

Tech scoffed lightly. “Wrecker? Oh no, this would never suit him, or fit him for that matter. This is Rex’s armor. We’ve been holding it for him since he began the Lothal mission. He didn’t want it to be found at your dwelling in the event that you drew too much attention. I assumed he’d told you.”

Senna’s heart slammed against her ribcage. Her mouth was bone dry as her brain struggled to fit the pieces into place.

Rex. It’s Rex. He’s the clone in my dreams.

But why?

“Are you sure you’re alright? I know plastoid is rather lightweight, but at the right velocity and angle, it can hurt quite a bit.”

“I’m fine,” Senna snapped. Tech took a step backward, and she internally winced at her reaction.

Keep it together. You have no idea what it even means. 

“I’m fine, Tech. Thank you for your concern.” she said in what she hoped was a more calm tone.

He nodded, apparently unruffled, and turned to walk back towards the front of the ship.

Slowly, Senna got to her feet. Her legs still felt gelatinous and unreliable underneath her, but she inched towards the storage bin. Gently, she lifted the helmet back out, running her thumb over the scratches in the plastoid. The blue was even more vibrant than it had been in her dreams despite all of the wear and tear it had apparently garnered during the war. She traced her fingers around the painted Jaig eyes and stared deep into the visor, as if she could find a hint of the man that wore it reflected back at her. 

I never met him during the war. I’m sure of it. 

But I know this armor. I knew it before I really knew him.

Rex’s voice startled her out of her thoughts, and she nearly dropped the helmet on her foot again.

“Ah, good. They remembered to bring it.” 

Hunter had Rex’s arm slung over his shoulder as he helped him towards one of the fold down bunks across from the storage bins. Rex’s eyes found hers, and his smile faded as he examined her expression. Quickly, she turned away from him, placing the helmet back in the storage bin and shutting the lid.

“Are you alright?” he asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

She hurriedly pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, desperately trying to think of something to do with her hands as she schooled her expression into something more neutral before turning to face him. 

“When…uh, when did you…when did you get the Jaig eyes?” 

Rex was staring at her hard, and she felt heat rise to her cheeks. She offered him a smile, but could see he wasn’t buying it. 

“Right out of training,” he replied slowly. “Had them with me throughout the war. Always kind of liked how they looked in 501st blue. Why?”

She tried a shrug that felt more forced than her smile. “Just wondering. They suit you.” 

Even as Hunter gently eased Rex onto the bunk, the captain’s eyes never left Senna. It was obvious that he didn’t believe her, but he didn’t have time to press the subject further as Tech emerged with a large medical kit. 

“Alright, let’s see if I can help with your injuries.”

Senna moved to help Rex pull his shirt off so that Tech could take a look at the blaster wound on his chest first. After peeling the bandages back, Tech’s eyes widened slightly behind his goggles. 

“You’re incredibly fortunate.”

“Don’t I know it?” Rex joked tightly, winking at Senna despite his discomfort. She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t stop a smile from erupting across her face. 

Fuck, I love him. 

Tech carefully examined the wound. “I cannot understand how this didn’t kill you instantly.”

Hunter let loose an exasperated sigh from where he was leaning against the wall. “Great bedside manner, Tech.”

“I’m merely stating that this wound was quite severe,” the goggled clone retorted, pulling out another injection of painkiller and giving it to Rex before he began probing the injury. “This has healed very well though.” He turned to Senna, giving her an appraising look. “What did you do?”

Senna nervously rubbed the back of her neck. “It wasn’t as bad as you think.” She could feel Rex’s eyes on her, but she really didn’t feel like delving into an explanation on how the Force works at the moment. 

Not even sure I could give a good description anyway. And Tech looks like the kind of guy to ask a lot of questions. 

Seemingly understanding he would get no further explanation, Tech nodded before going to work carefully flushing the wound and making a few minor repairs with some of the medical tools he pulled from his bag. Once he’d rebandaged Rex’s chest, he moved onto his leg, which went much faster, even though he noted Rex would need a minor surgical procedure as Senna had suspected. All in all, Tech was finished in less than an hour, but Senna could feel exhaustion overwhelming the last remnants of adrenaline in her system by the time he closed his medkit and exited with Hunter. 

“We’ll give you two some privacy,” Hunter said quietly. “Try to get some rest.”

“Where are you taking us?” Senna asked. 

The sergeant shrugged. “We’ll probably park somewhere remote and await orders. We’ve got a few waypoints we use just outside of hyperspace lanes.”

“No safehouse?” Senna asked. 

“We’re in the market for one at the moment,” Hunter replied, unphased by the peppering of questions. “And Imperial checkpoints around our usual base of operations have picked up with the recent activity on Lothal, so best not to try to get there for the moment.”

It felt like an accusation, but Senna suspected she was just being stubborn. “And you’ve never run into any Imperials out here?”

“Not yet,” the sergeant said with a wink. 

“First time for everything.” Senna couldn’t bring herself to share his confidence for reasons she couldn’t pinpoint. Maybe it was the experience with the Inquisitor, or maybe just inherent worry on her part. Either way, she wasn’t ready to relax and write off the Empire just yet. 

“We would see them long before they realized who we are and what we are flying,” Tech replied from over Hunter’s shoulder. “I have scrambled our ship’s signature, and we have several modifications that make us harder to identify. All are fully functional.”

“Just like the hyperdrive?” Wrecker shouted from the cockpit with a loud cackle. 

“I am in the midst of troubleshooting the hyperdrive’s issues. And as you can see, it’s functioning enough to get us into hyperspace…” Tech muttered loudly, glowering at his brother over his shoulder. 

Wrecker was undeterred, and as the bickering grew louder, Senna had to stifle a giggle as Echo tried to break it up to no avail. Hunter heaved a sigh before slipping through the door and reaching for the control panel. 

“Get some sleep if you can,” he whispered before closing the door. The last thing Senna heard was his gruff voice rising in volume over his brothers, demanding they quit arguing just before the door muffled all sound on the other side. 

Senna huffed a laugh into the silence as the muted argument died down on the other side of the ship. 

“Quite the crew. Don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone like them,” she noted. Rex had told her a little about Clone Force 99, and how he’d worked with them during and briefly after the war, but the clones that had picked them up were different from anything she’d possibly imagined. 

“You wouldn’t have. They’re purposefully different from the rest of the clone army,” Rex grunted, trying to readjust his leg to a more comfortable position with a grunt. “They all have mutations the Kaminoans deemed desirable enough to enhance. Tech’s smart, Wrecker’s strong, Hunter’s got incredibly heightened senses, and Crosshair is a hell of a sniper.” 

“Crosshair?” Senna asked, fishing a blanket out of her bedroll. 

Rex let loose a deep exhale as he finally relaxed, having adjusted to a more comfortable position. “Yes. There’s one more. Most of their inhibitor chips didn’t activate when Order 66 was issued, but Crosshair’s did.”

“Oh.” Senna couldn’t think of anything else to say. She’d heard Rex talk about what it was like to lose control, but she felt like there was something else he wasn’t saying about Crosshair. 

As if he could hear her thoughts, Rex sighed. “Last time they saw him, he told them it had been removed. And then he chose to stay with the Empire. If what he says is true, he’s lucky he had a choice.” He didn’t bother to hide the bitterness in his tone. 

“Wouldn’t he have been decommissioned with the rest of the clones?”

“He hasn’t shown back up. My guess is he’s too valuable of an asset to just write off. Not your standard cannon fodder like the rest of us.” 

Senna knelt down, gently laying the blanket over Rex. The lighting was dimmer with the door closed, but she could still see anger glittering in his eyes. 

“And Echo? How did he come to join them?”

The pinch between Rex’s eyebrows softened slightly. “After everything he went through, I don’t think he felt like he fit in with regular clones anymore. The 501st had changed so much since he’d been captured. I think Fives’s absence was just a constant reminder of all he’d lost, and I was worried he’d just feel like he didn’t have a place with how he’d changed. Fortunately, the boys out there were part of his rescue, and he bonded with them. They were skeptical of him at first, but it didn’t take long for me to see he was going to be happier with them.” 

“You just let him go?” 

“I told him to.” Rex met her eyes. Senna leaned against the bunk, reaching for his hands and interlacing her fingers with his. 

“That must have been hard,” she said quietly. 

Rex’s thumb rubbed across her knuckles. “It was. But it was right for him at the time, and that was more important to me than my own feelings about not having him around.” 

“That’s noble,” Senna noted. “And oddly similar to something I said to you about a week ago.” 

Rex scoffed, but she was glad he grinned at that. “I think what you said was very different for several reasons.”

She flicked him lightly on his arm, and he scoffed. “Ok, but you understand where I was coming from, right?”

“Of course I did. I just disagreed with it.” 

“Oh, so your opinion is the right one? I see now,” she joked. 

“I didn’t make captain by being wrong, Master Aven,” Rex teased back. She rolled her eyes, but he reached forward stroking her cheek, his tone softening. “I wouldn’t be so foolish as to think I’m right more often than you. I’m sure you’ll win more arguments than you lose. But for what it’s worth, I’m glad you let me win that one.” 

Senna turned her head, placing a kiss to his palm. “Me too.” 

Rex’s thumb grazed her jaw, brushing against the sensitive spot behind her ear, and Senna’s pulse jumped, and heat and desire flooded through her. She was never going to get tired of him touching her like this, and she wasn’t sure she’d ever stop reacting like this when he did. 

Maybe she didn’t want to.

“Just how good are Hunter’s senses?” she asked. 

Rex didn’t appear to notice the mischievous glint in her eye or the way her tongue was poking between her teeth.

“He’s hypersensitive to smells, sounds, temperature changes, electromagnetic fields, you name it.”

Senna wrinkled her nose. “That sounds… awful. Just a constant sensory overload.”

Rex chuckled. “Oh, if he didn’t block it out, I’m sure it would be. He’s also developed the ability to tune things out, which I imagine was necessary for just existing. So for example, he wouldn’t hear us speaking back here unless he wanted to.” 

“Do you think he’s listening right now?” Senna asked, shifting to lean closer to Rex. She nuzzled at his jaw and felt his breath hitch.

“Why?” he asked, his voice tight, but she didn’t miss the hint of hope in his tone.  

“Oh, no reason,” she replied, her fingers finding their way under Rex’s shirt, trailing along the patch of hair below his navel. Rex inhaled sharply as she undid his belt and trousers, lightly scraping the curls at the base of his cock with her fingernails. She teased him gently, avoiding his hardening length as she allowed her fingertips to lightly stroke down his thighs. She nuzzled against his jaw, feeling the light scrape of his scruff, and smiled as Rex huffed in frustration as she bypassed his cock again, rubbing against his hip bone. 

“Right now, Sen?”

“I want to.”

He huffed at that, stifling a moan behind clenched teeth as she ran her tongue along a tendon in his neck. The sound electrified her.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, allowing her knuckles to brush his cock as she moved her hand again. 

“Like if you don’t touch me in the next five seconds, I’m going to lose my mind,” he growled. 

“But I am touching you.”

“Tease,” he rasped.

Senna grinned before gripping him firmly, and satisfaction coursed through her veins as Rex’s head thunked back against the bunk with a loud groan. 

“Shhhhh, Captain,” she teased in his ear, brushing her thumb over the head of his cock. He whined, and she kissed him hard. “You’re going to have to be more quiet if I’m going to continue. Wouldn’t want the others to hear, would we?”

She twisted her wrist, slowly stroking him, and she felt Rex tense underneath her, his breathing ragged in the dim room. His hand slipped over hers, guiding her pace, and she followed his lead, reveling in the way his cock twitched and pulsed against her palm. 

Rex had impressed her from the moment they’d met, even if she’d thought he was too uptight, too military. But there had never been any doubt that he’d earned his reputation. He commanded respect with his presence alone, he was a brilliant strategist, and he just exuded strength and competence. And yet, here he was, whimpering Senna’s name again, and Maker, it thrilled her. Another burst of heat rushed between her legs, and her hips rocked back and forth, trying to get any semblance of friction from the seams on her trousers. She wanted him, but she understood how he’d held himself back last night. There really was nothing like watching the person she loved, the man she admired, unraveling while whispering her name like a prayer. 

“S-Sen, I’m close,” he gasped. 

“I can feel it,” she whispered. “I want you to cum for me, Rex.”

“‘M g-gonna make a mess,” he warned. 

“And I’ll clean it up,” she replied. His eyes widened, and she pressed closer, her lips grazing the shell of his ear. “I’ve wondered what you taste like, and maybe I’ll finally sate that curiosity.” 

Rex groaned, and she slowed, drawing a frustrated grunt in response. 

“Please,” he begged. 

“Keep it down then, Captain.” 

He glared at her, but dug his teeth into his lower lip to keep himself quiet as she resumed stroking him, tightening her grip slightly. She could hear him breathing sharply through his nose, and she picked up the pace. 

“Maybe I’ll wait to taste you though,” she teased again, and she felt his body tense, muscles straining to keep control of himself. “I think I’d rather have you straight from the source.” 

Rex’s hips jerked, and he moaned quietly behind clenched teeth. 

“Would you like that, Captain? Me on my knees for you with your cock pressed against my tongue?”

“F-fuck, Sen,” Rex swore. “I-I’m…” Senna felt his cock twitch, and moved her hand to catch his spend as he came hard. Spurt after spurt coated her palm until Rex shuddered and relaxed, panting raggedly. Senna slipped away to the small semblance of a ‘fresher that was tucked into the side of the ship to wash her hand before returning to Rex’s side, kneeling next to him as he still tried to catch his breath. She managed to get his pants refastened just as a large hand slipped around the back of her neck and pulled her into a heated, hard kiss. When Rex finally released her, he kept her forehead pressed to his. 

“When we get to our next stop, wherever that is, you and I are going to find a bedroom, and we are not coming out until you’ve screamed yourself hoarse and neither of us can walk right. Got it?” 

Senna chuckled. “Is that what it will take for you to be satisfied?”

“Oh, I don’t think I’ll ever be satisfied when it comes to you, Senna Aven,” Rex replied with a huff of a laugh. “I’m fairly certain my body will give out long before my desire does.” 

“Well in that case, you should get some rest.”

“Now who’s keeping who awake,” he teased. 

“That sounds an awful lot like a complaint.”

Rex kissed her again, much more gently this time, and Senna melted into his touch. 

“Not in the slightest,” he whispered. “I love you.” 

—

Several hours later, Senna felt the ship shudder as it exited the hyperspace lane. She could tell by the mechanical groan of the hyperdrive that they’d pulled off at a point that wasn’t a designated entrance or exit, putting a little more strain on the engine than normal. 

Impressive. Falling out of a lane like that would normally be much bumpier. I’ll have to ask Tech if there’s a mod for that. 

Rex was snoring softly on the lower bunk while Wrecker harmonized at a much louder volume from the bunk above him. 

The large clone had reappeared a while ago along with Hunter to let them know they’d reached out to Senator Organa, but he’d been in a Senate session and was unavailable. When Senna had asked how long they expected the wait to be, Hunter had shrugged. 

“Hard to say. Sometimes hours, sometimes days. Depends on when he can get to a secure location. He knows we have you and Rex and we’re safe, so it won’t be as urgent.” 

“We’re fugitives from the Empire. I’d argue that’s pretty urgent.” 

Hunter had chuckled at that, and irritation flared in Senna, but she subdued it. 

“The Senator has to prioritize things carefully and trust we’ll take care of ourselves to an extent. Otherwise, he’d be racing out of committee meetings every other minute, and that might draw attention.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” Senna conceded. She didn’t like feeling like she was being lectured, and she’d be lying if she said some of her frustration with the rebellion wasn’t bleeding over into this, but even moreso, she didn’t like the idea of Rex being left without additional medical attention. She was unable to keep her eyes from flicking over to where he was sleeping. 

Hunter followed her gaze, and his expression softened. “Organa and the others he works with have a lot of lives depending on them. If one of them raises suspicion, it puts us all at risk. But we’ll make sure Rex gets taken care of. For what it’s worth, Tech said you did an excellent job fixing him up before we got there.” 

“And he doesn’t give out compliments very often,” Wrecker chuckled. “So I’d take that for what it’s worth.” 

Senna had smiled at that, and Hunter had left once more while Wrecker tried unsuccessfully to get her to sleep on the top bunk. She’d insisted on the floor so she’d be closer to Rex in case he needed anything, and the large clone finally relented, offering her another thin blanket from a storage bin before clambering up into the bunk himself. It had only taken a few minutes for his snores to fill the small space, and he’d been going steadily since then, only interrupting himself with the occasional snort or grunt when he shifted. 

Wrecker’s snoring aside, Senna’s mind was far too busy to allow her to sleep. She’d replayed the encounter with the Inquisitor over and over again in her mind, trying to identify anything of importance to be analyzed, but she found nothing that answered any of her queries. It seemed like every thread she pulled just led to more questions. 

Who was he? How many of them are there? He was strong with his control of the Force, so he must have had some training. He could also speak in my mind… I could hear him in my head. Could he hear me? He knew my name. Did he come because there was a reported Force user? Or did he know some other way? 

The final thought chilled her. Force sensitives could usually tell when another was nearby, but that would imply that he’d already been on Lothal. And she’d never sensed him until he’d arrived on that speeder.

Surely he’d have shown up on the Imperial chatter if he was around. Rex and I monitored the comms all the way until the end. Surely there’d have been some indication if someone like that was coming to help with the search? 

There was always the chance that his existence was extremely classified, and maybe the Imperials actually managed to keep something secret for once, but the thought nagged at her. 

If he can sense Force users, how far does that reach? 

And he didn’t kill me. I mean, I’m glad he didn’t. But he could have. He was toying with me. Why let the clones go and keep me alive? 

Unless… unless they are turned Jedi. 

She shuddered at the implication. Some of the familiar fear crept into her veins, cold tendrils of doubt and worry. If they were pursuing former Jedi, then they’d keep chasing her. And if they chased her, that put Rex in danger too. 

Danger he’d say he’s willing to face with you. 

Sweat broke out across the back of her neck, chilling her.

Surely there can’t be many of them then. Right? But likely more than one. The title “Grand” Inquisitor implies that there are lesser Inquisitors.

Questions sprung up everywhere in her mind, and she shoved them to the side to try and sort through later. Heaving a frustrated sigh, she rolled onto her side on the floor, and her eyes fell on the storage bin across from her. 

The armor. 

That was an entirely other puzzle that she wasn’t ready to grapple with. She was certain that would lead to even more questions and even fewer answers. 

Fingertips grazed her shoulder, and she turned to find Rex’s hand dangling over the side of the cot. She rolled back to face him, gently taking his hand and kissing his knuckles. Rex’s snores didn’t falter, and she smiled, rubbing her thumb over the back of his hand. 

I have him. I’ll figure the rest out. 

Giving up on the prospect of sleep, Senna pushed herself to her feet, gently tucking Rex’s arm back across his chest and placing a gentle kiss on his forehead. He stirred but didn’t wake up, and she watched him sleep peacefully for another few moments before slipping the thin blanket Wrecker had given her around her shoulders, kicking her rucksack that she’d been using as a pillow under the bunk and out of the way, and sliding the door open. 

She padded quietly up through the ship, passing a sleeping Hunter sitting against the hull on the floor and Tech tipped back in a chair and snoring at a haphazard angle near the comm console. 

His neck has got to hurt sleeping like that, Senna thought as she passed by him. No wonder his posture is so awful.

Making her way to the cockpit, she found Echo wide awake and staring out the windows at the stars around them. He turned at the sound of her footsteps, offering her a small smile. 

“Can’t sleep?” she asked, settling into the chair next to him.

He huffed a quiet laugh. “Nah, I don’t do that very well. At least not since…well, you know,” he said, gesturing at his legs and scomp arm.

“Yeah, that’ll do it,” she said, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders.

“What keeps you up?” he asked.

“Oh you know, just your run of the mill problems. Inquisitors and blaster wounds.” She chuckled. “Guess that’s better than the normal nightmares.” 

“Nightmares?” 

Senna picked at the seam of her trousers. “Memories.” 

“Sorry about that,” Echo said quietly, giving her a sad smile.

“Why?” she asked, her eyebrow raising inquisitively.

“Well, you said you weren’t a commander or a general, so I’d imagine you didn’t see much action. That makes me think the worst thing you saw… well, was the end of it all.” 

She nodded, her lips pulled into a thin line. “You all didn’t do it. Nothing to be sorry for.”

“Maybe not, but we were around for it, and it was…awful. I can’t imagine living through it from your perspective.”

Senna remained silent, her fingers tracing the scar on her collarbone absentmindedly as the memories flashed through her mind.

Echo noticed the scar. “Does talking about it help you?” he asked gently.

She met his eyes. “Sometimes. You?”

“Sometimes.”

Reaching over, she gave his arm a squeeze. “Well, if you ever want to talk, I’m a good listener, despite what Rex might tell you,” she joked lightly.

He let his hand rest on hers and squeezed back. “Thank you. The boys try to be sympathetic, but it’s not something they really understand, and they’re not sure how to handle it, and I certainly can’t talk to Omega about it.”

“Where is Omega by the way?” Senna asked. Rex had briefly mentioned the young clone before, and she’d been surprised to not meet her on the ship when they had escaped with the rest of Clone Force 99. 

Echo chuckled. “She’s back at base putting her medical skills to use. She had training back on Kamino, but she thought she could help out the cause by learning more with actual trained medics. Tech is knowledgeable, but even his expertise is limited. We drop in and check on her regularly, but she’s been doing a great job from what we hear. And more importantly, she’s safe.”

Senna smiled, settling back into her chair a little more. She liked how much pride Echo clearly had for the young girl. Remembering Hunter’s comment about the Imperial activity near that base, she sent a silent hope out into the universe that Omega and whoever she was with were safe. She took solace in how unconcerned Echo seemed, hoping that meant that enough security existed to keep him from worrying.

They sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments before Echo spoke again.

“You know, you’re good for him.”

Senna turned to look at him questioningly, but Echo gave her a knowing look. “Something’s changed since the last time I saw you two. You very obviously care for one another, and I have to say I haven’t seen Rex seem as…unburdened as he does when he’s with you, even with a blaster wound in the middle of his chest.” They laughed quietly before Echo continued. “The war was hard on him, but the last year has been harder. I feel like he’s been trying to outrun the grief he feels. I’m sure you’ve seen it. You’ve probably got plenty of your own.” 

Senna nodded, swallowing a lump in her throat. 

“I’ve known Rex a long time,” Echo said quietly, “And the way you two are together…it’s special.”

She smirked back at him. “Who says we’re together?” she teased.

He grinned at her. “My eyes work just fine, Senna. I see the way he looks at you…and the way you look at him.”

So much for keeping it a secret, I suppose.

She sighed deeply, tipping her head back in the chair. “I fought it for a while,” she confessed. “I was scared for him.” 

“Rex can handle himself.”

“You have a lot of experiences with Inquisitors during the war?” she asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

“We ran up against our fair share of dark Force users.” 

“With Anakin at your back.” 

“Touché.” 

They were silent for a few more moments, Senna nervously chewing on her cuticle before she broached her next question. 

“Do you think it’s a good idea? To have a relationship like this, doing what we do?”

Echo laughed softly. “If you’d asked me four years ago, I’d have told you it’s a terrible idea.” His gaze grew distant, and Senna could tell he was drifting towards his memories as his voice grew more somber. “But if the war and my time… away taught me anything, it’s that life is short, especially for us.” He turned to face her, meeting her eyes. “I missed years of my life. That’s precious time I can’t get back and things I’ll never be able to say to people that I loved.” 

He was smiling, but there was a sadness in him that made Senna want to hug him again. She knew he must be thinking of the brothers he’d lost while he was with the Separatists, especially his twin, Fives. 

“You want my advice?” he asked, rolling his shoulders as if shrugging off the grief. “Don’t waste a second of the life you have worrying about whether or not it’s a good idea to tell someone you care for them.” He sat back heavily in the chair, crossing his arms and staring out at the stars ahead of them. “You never know how much time you have.”

Senna propped her feet up on the console, her brows pinching together as she turned Echo’s words over in her mind. 

“Tech’ll complain if he finds out you put your feet up there,” Echo rumbled. When she turned to look at him, he still had his arms crossed across his chest and his eyes closed, but the corners of his mouth were turned up in a smile. 

She grinned, reaching a leg over to nudge his knee with her toe. 

“And here I thought you all were good at keeping secrets.” 

—

"You know, you actually-"

"Tech, I swear to everything holy, if you don’t back up and let me do this, I'm going to snap your goggles."

Rex sighed from where he was seated at the communications console with Hunter, watching the beginnings of an argument form and feeling too tired to step in the middle.

I’ve already got enough wounds to heal from. Don’t need a wrench to the head. 

It had been a few rotations since they’d escaped Lothal, and after what felt like a hundred games of sabacc and too many ration bars for Senna and Wrecker’s liking, the ship was starting to feel smaller and things were getting chippy. The fact that none of them had showered didn’t help either. 

“If you would just–” Tech tried again.

“I won’t,” Senna snapped, waving her hand dismissively at him as he leaned over her shoulder.

The goggled clone glared at her, moving a few steps back to where he was out of arm's reach but still could watch her work on her datapad. Echo and Wrecker snickered while Hunter rolled his eyes. 

"Tech, let her work on her own equipment," Hunter called loudly.

"She could just be more efficient if she-"

"Ah ah ah ah what did I just say?" Senna interrupted him, waving the tool she was using menacingly at him. "It's my datapad, and I know what I’m doing."

Tech huffed just as the comm panel beeped with an incoming message. 

"Thank the Maker," Hunter muttered, moving over to answer the call with Rex. 

Rex punched in the decryption code as Hunter moved to stand behind the chair. "I see everyone's getting along swimmingly back there," he chuckled.

Hunter sighed deeply. "If we're not careful, we're going to come out of this with one less person, and between you and me, my money's on your girl being the last technical specialist standing."

Rex laughed, but before he could respond, Bail Organa's face appeared before them, glowing blue in the dimly-lit cabin. 

"Greetings, Captain. Sergeant." 

Both clones nodded in acknowledgement. 

"I apologize for the delay," Organa continued. "Finding accommodations for all of you has proven rather difficult. There is much turmoil and fear right now, particularly with your confirmed report of an Inquisitor. Our allies are very nervous about taking on additional people to harbor at the moment without proper security precautions in place."

That doesn't sound good, Rex thought, his brows furrowing with concern.

Hunter sighed. “And if we had any safe houses left, we’d have gone there. Unfortunately, we’ve burned through those as well. So what’s the plan, Senator?”

Organa grinned. "You are to come here. To Alderaan."

Rex and Hunter shot each other a look. 

"Senator, with all due respect, that seems like a very bad and dangerous idea," Hunter argued.

The senator laughed. "It certainly is, but at this time, it's the best we've got. We need to get you here and get both Captain Rex and Specialist Aven debriefed as quickly as possible to learn what they know. I am hopeful that the information they provide will put minds at ease and fill in gaps our allies are currently filling with their own worst-case theories. So, you are to come here. Unless you'd rather continue to stay parked out in deep space for another few rotations until a better solution can be reached." His barely-hidden smirk left Rex with the impression that Organa had guessed they were getting tired of breathing the same air. 

If he did, the senator had to only wait a few seconds to have his theory confirmed as the sound of a scuffle suddenly broke out at the back of the ship, followed by a snapping sound and a loud curse. Senna’s raised voice easily carried to where Rex and Hunter were leaned over the communications console.

"I KRIFFING TOLD YOU I WOULD IF YOU DIDN’T BACK OFF, TECH!" 

Rex leaned back in his seat and could see Echo standing in between Senna and Tech, gently trying to keep her from grabbing Tech’s goggles again, which were sitting askew on his face, and Rex could see the beginnings of a red mark forming across Tech’s forehead. Wrecker was roaring with laughter and being absolutely no help at all. If anything, he was egging them on. Rex didn’t like the look in Senna’s eye as her tongue poked out between her teeth, and Tech was doing nothing to help himself by wagging a scolding finger at her.

It was clear the senator could hear the argument, his expression asking a question neither clone felt like answering. Hunter pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration as Rex leaned forward with a pained smile on his face. 

"We'll be there in a rotation, Senator."

Tag List: @redheadgirl @cyarbika @witchklng @djarrex @arctrooper69 @sleepingsun501 @ladytano420 @rexxdjarin @echos-girlfriend @zoeykallus @leftealeaf @galacticgraffiti @hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall @ariadnes-red-thread @goblininawig @merkitty49 @fives-lover @ladykatakuri @runforrestr @baba-fett @daimyosprincess @obihiddlenox @bucketbunny99 @fordo-kixed-rex @nerd-ika @amish---paradise @arctrooperechy

[clareguilty]

The Naked Thing

Hello! I was dying without air conditioning a few weeks ago and decided to make it Mando Smut Mandalorian/f!reader Rating: Explicit | No Warnings Word Count: ~2900

The Crest falls out of hyperspace too soon, and you go flying. Curling around Grogu in your arms, you twist in midair so that your back hits the console to avoid crushing him. A lever digs into your spine, and you curse loudly. That’s going to bruise. Oh well. What’s another?

“What the kriff, Mando?” you snarl. Grogu seems unbothered, blinking at you and probably learning way too many swear words for a child of his size.

Mando pulls himself off the control grid with a pained groan, helmet swiveling as he takes in the damage.

“The good news,” he begins after a moment, “is that we lost them.”

That is good news, you agree. You were lucky that the army of bounty hunters and ex-imps hadn’t kept track of you. If you had shaken them off your trail, then that would earn you a head start to a safer system.

“The bad news is that they shot out our hyperdrive.”

“Dank Farrik,” you curse again, then glance at Grogu. Maybe you should watch your mouth more?

“...And our temperature regulator and our heat shields.”

You decide that it is an appropriate time for as much foul language as you please.

“What does that mean?” you ask. You hadn’t grown up around ships -- spent the last dozen years on the same dead-end planet until Mando picked you up. The most you were good for was turning a knob or flipping a switch here and there. Usually you just kept an eye on Grogu while Mando did all the piloting and bounty hunting and whatnot.

“We’ll have to travel sublight, but we can’t land planet side because without the heat shields any atmosphere worth a damn would burn us up. Our only option is a New Republic Outpost. We’ll be able to land there, and we’ll be safe while they repair the Crest. I’ll chart us a course and let you know how long it should be.”

“You know,” you snap, “we wouldn’t be in this mess if you weren’t so scared of droids. If we had an astromech on board, then we could get the hyperdrive repaired without having to crawl our asses through deep space in the hopes that whoever picks us up doesn’t want us dead.”

Mando doesn’t say anything. You don’t know if your words meant anything at all to him because you can’t see shit behind his helmet. Huffing, you take Grogu down to the hold. Not long after, the engines fire up again.

It takes a few minutes to set in, but its quick enough to be noticeable. The ship is getting hotter. Like… unbearably warm.

You fill a canteen with water and make sure that you and Grogu are both hydrated. After a little bit of digging, you manage to find a portable air circulator. You and Grogu sit directly in front of the current, doing your best to keep cool.

Mando comes down after a little while, he cocks his helmet when he sees you.

“It’s hot,” you whine.

“The temperature regulator is shot too. We don’t have a way too cool the ship down or shield the heat of the engines.”

You sigh. “How long until we can get repairs?”

“34 hours. Will the kid be okay for that long?”

Grogu hasn’t outwardly complained about the heat, mostly just sitting in front of the circulator with his eyes closed and ears flapping, but you’ve been worried as well. “He’s kind of… amphibious,” you frown. “I’ll get him a basin of water to sit in and put him in the fresher with the circulator. That should keep him cooled off.”

Mando nods. “Thank you. Will you be okay?”

You shrug. There’s not much you can do. As long as you stay hydrated then you should be able to last 34 hours.

“Thank you,” he says again.

“For what?” All you’ve done is curse at him and berate him for not having an astromech droid.

“For looking out for him back there. You saved all of us with that droid popper. And the move with the cannon was impressive.”

You aren’t expecting genuine praise from Mando. It always felt as though you were dead weight to him. Through all the planets you’ve been on -- and been chased off of -- you’ve always felt useless.You can’t fly, you’re not the best shot, you can barely take care of his kid. It means a lot that he doesn’t actually hate you. 

“I’m starting to get the hang of this,” you grin. You had never considered yourself a hero or adventurer, but you had commandeered a cannon and shot down three imperial fighters.

“I’ll be up in the cockpit if you need anything. Just knock.” And he’s gone.

‘Knock’ means that Mando is probably going to take his helmet and armor off, which means you also get a few hours of total privacy. You set Grogu up in the fresher with a basin of water and the circulator -- though it pains you to give up the weak, artificial breeze.

It’s only gotten hotter, and your already filthy clothes are starting to became unbearable. You had gotten splashed with gore and grime and who knows what in your escape, and it wasn’t pairing well with the heat onboard.

Stripping out of your clothes, you sprawl naked on the metal floor. It’s dusty, but slightly cool, and you plaster as much of your skin to the durasteel as you can manage.

Time passes with you systematically rolling across the floor of the hold to try and keep from baking. It’s bearable only because you know there will be an end. As long as the ship keeps chugging along towards the space outpost, then you will be saved.

The hatch to the cockpit opens, and you leap to your feet. Mando clambers down, jumping when he sees you.

“You’re naked,” he raises his hands -- his bare hands -- and backs against the ladder.

“You’re naked.” you point.

“I have a helmet and pants on,” he says. But that’s all he has on. His chest and arms are bare, and it’s more skin than you’ve ever seen before on the man.

“I’ve never seen you out of your armor. That has got to be more scandalous than me being naked.”

You must have made a point, because Mando doesn’t respond. Instead, you both just kind of… stand there. You can’t tear your eyes away from his chest and from the angle his helmet is pointed it seems he’s having a similar issue.

“Did you, uh, need anything?” you finally manage to ask. Your mouth is dry, and you take another uncoordinated drink from the canteen, shivering as some of the water spills down your chest.

Mando coughs. “I just wanted to make sure the kid is okay.”

“Oh,” you turn to open the fresher door just a crack. You had checked on him just a few minutes ago, and he still seems fine. After a moment of pause, Mando comes up behind you and you can feel the heat of his skin against your back.

Grogu is asleep, curled up just in front of the circulator and the basin of water so that the cool air blows over him. The fresher is several degrees cooler than the rest of the ship, and while it feels amazing, you don’t want to let the heat in.

“I’m going to go back up now,” Mando says quickly, and then he’s gone through the hatch once again.

You resume your circuit of laying on the floor, but it feels like the ship is only getting hotter.

That’s when you take to banging on the hatch to the cockpit. “Mando, I’m going to kick your ass! You had better get us to that outpost or find a way too cool this ship down! I spent years on Tatooine, and this is the hottest I have ever been in my entire life!”

“I can cut the engines to stop generating any heat, but then we’ll just be coasting through empty space and we’ll never make it to the outpost.”

You huff. “At this point you should just freeze me in carbonite.”

Mando does not freeze you in carbonite, but you do eventually make it to the New Republic outpost. They give the three of you a small dorm and Mando arranges for the Razor Crest to be repaired. You don’t have any credits between you, so you wonder what he offers in exchange.

You toss your gear into the room and head out to get food for everyone. You always enjoy being in New Republic space. No one is out to murder you or imprison you. The officers are usually nicer. Everyone likes the Skywalkers.

A friendly droid loads you up with several plates of food, and you stop to check out the holonet broadcasts on your way back. Things in this corner of the galaxy are a little hectic -- something you just witnessed firsthand -- but its less gloomy than it used to be.

Mando is sitting on the lower bunk when you get back. He’s back in his full armor, but you can read his posture pretty well. Grogu is playing in the corner, levitating some rocks you had found for him a few planets back. You set the tray down, fully intending to take your portion and eat out in the hall or in one of the communal sitting rooms. Before you can even turn away, Mando has already grabbed a plate of food and tugged his helmet off.

“WOAH,” you raise your hands in front of your face, ducking your head before you can see too much. Curly hair. Tan skin. Moustache. If there is one thing you’ve learned, it’s that Mando doesn’t let anyone see him without his helmet. It’s a cultural thing, and you respect that. “What is with you being naked today?”

Your eyes are open, but very pointedly looking at a wall nowhere near him. He shifts for a moment, and you wait for some kind of explanation.

“Look,” he finally begins, “we’ve been through a lot together at this point. I’ve traveled with you longer than anyone since I was a foundling with the watch. You’ve saved my life as well as Grogu’s many times, and we just survived one hell of a fight. Not to mention, I saw, um, all of you today. I figure it’s only fair.”

You’re touched. It’s an honor that Mando trusts you enough to remove his helmet. For as long as you have been travelling together, you’ve assumed that you care for him far more than he cares for you. “You don’t have to,” you say. “I don’t want you to feel obligated.”

“I trust you,” he repeats.

You turn to face him. His eyes are so soft. Tired and kind and the warmest brown. He stares at you, taking you in for the first time with his own eyes and not the visor in his helmet. It’s unreasonably intimate considering he was staring at you naked with the helmet on just 16 hours before.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re kind of cute?” you laugh and look away, smoothing your hands over your pants. There’s food in front of you, and you use that as a welcome distraction.

“I’ve never trusted anyone enough before now to see me.”

How can he just say things like that? You try to drown the rapid beating of your heart behind some kind of bitter vegetable.

Mando begins to eat as well, slowly and unsurely. He picks at a few different dishes before finally speaking again. “You’ve, uh- I mean… you’re beautiful as well.”

You laugh loudly at that. It’s so shy. This man had seen you overheated and completely naked lying on the floor of his ship. You roll your eyes and shoot him a wink. “Something you like in particular?”

Mando chokes, coughing for a minute before chugging down half a glass of green jelly juice. He finally regains his composure, but his voice is rough when he speaks again. “I’d say the best view was from behind.”

It’s the last thing you expect from him. He’s so shy and reserved and has always backed down from your defensive teasing. It’s a moment before you can pull yourself together. Still, you aren’t sure what to say. Instead, you cram some shredded raw crustacean in your mouth and hope you aren’t too flushed.

Mando offers to take the trays back. The dorm bathroom has a shower with running water and you intend to take full advantage. Grogu rolls a rock at your feet as you head into the bathroom, and you lightly kick it back to him. “Are you tired of putting up with us yet? You’ve been a baby longer than I’ve been alive. I bet we seem like idiots to you.”

Grogu, predictably, says nothing. He makes a raspberry noise with his lips and plops down into a sit.

The shower is one of the greatest gifts you’ve ever enjoyed in life. Hot water, high pressure, steam and soap. You take your time washing up and letting the jets work out all of the kinks in your muscles.

When you slide the stall door aside, Mando is standing at the sink. Helmetless. Shirtless.

He jumps slightly, staring at the floor as you step out of the shower. 

“We have got to stop doing this naked thing,” you say. It doesn’t actually bother you. You like that Mando trusts you, and you’ve never been shy about being naked around others, but he’s too attractive and it drives you nuts.

“I rather enjoy it,” he manages to pull his gaze from the floor to shoot you a wink. Your pulse speeds up.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, Mando,” you step forward. You’re still steaming from the shower and dripping wet. He’s never been this cheeky before, and you kind of enjoy it.

His gaze darkens, eyebrows rasing. He reaches out to grab your waist, pulling you in and pinning you against the sink. You gasp at the feeling of his skin on yours, leaning back as he crowds you against the basin.

“Grogu is napping,” he whispers.

“I think the shower will fit both of us,” you breathe.

He’s already working at the buckle of his pants, toeing out of his boots. You drag him back into the shower with you. The jets hit his back, and he melts a little. You wrap your hand around his cock, and he looks like he may collapse. His eyes flutter shut, one of his hands slamming against the wall by your head.

You lean in to brush your lips over his skin as you stroke his cock. You’d never even seen this man’s face before today, and now you’re kissing your way over his jaw and down his neck. His other hand grabs your ass, kneading the flesh and pulling you closer so your hips brush his.

Your thumb swipes over the tip of his cock, and he shudders. It happens so fast, you didn’t know he had spun you around until your cheek is against the shower wall. His hands are glue to your hips, digging into your ass and pulling you to him so he can grind his cock against your slick skin.

“Please,” you whine. You haven’t had sex with anyone since you began travelling with Mando, and opportunities to get yourself off come few and far between with three of you on the Crest. You’re desperately horny, and you’ve wanted to fuck this man since you found him in that godforsaken desert.

He lines himself up and drives his hips forward, sinking into you with one solid thrust. You bite your forearm to muffle your moans, panting as you try to get used to the sudden stretch.

“You good?” he asks, leaning forward to kiss your cheek. 

“Move,” you say, demanding but desperate.

It takes a moment to find leverage in the tiny -- smaller than you first assumed -- shower stall, but Mando begins to fuck you at a steady pace. You reach down to rub your clit, clenching around him. You’re going to finish quicker than you’re used to -- probably because you’ve been turned on since you saw Mando shirtless on the crest.

From the way Mando’s hips twitch and his rhythm falters, you guess that he’s close to coming as well.

His hands are everywhere. Your hips, your ass, trailing over your stomach and and reaching up to squeeze your breasts. His fingers brush your throat and you nearly come from the touch alone. He feels the way you tighten around his cock and places a hand on your neck, squeezing your jaw between his thumb and forefinger.

You come so hard your knees give out and your vision goes white. Mando keeps you from collapsing in a bruised heap on the shower floor by simply continuing to fuck you until he comes as well.

It’s not a lot of space, so you’re slumped together under the spray of the water. You manage to wipe yourself clean in a few swipes and stagger back out so Mando can actually wash up. He’s much quicker than you were, and he’s out of the shower by the time you’ve finished rubbing scented moisturizer over your skin. The New Republic sure knew how to treat their guests.

“I think we should definitely keep doing the naked thing,” he grins.

[kyberphilosopher]

Cerise

Those are people who died, died Those are people who died, died They were all my friends and just died.

Word Count: 5736 Warnings: Crime, Weapons, Mentioned Murder of a R/pist, Crude humor.

Jason’s friend and roommate, another Gotham villain, is ordered to return to Task Force X.

ce·rise/səˈrēs,səˈrēz/ [noun] a bright or deep red color.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Let’s open up our story on a colorful note: Fuck Amanda Waller. 

Nobody likes her. You don’t like her. Jason doesn’t like her. None of the characters in this story like her. Arguably, none of the characters in your present universe like her, either. There’s a reason why people call her “The Wall”. It’s because that’s what it’s like talking to her. And that’s what it would be like trying to deny the request she’d passed on to you in her letter. 

It weighed on your mind briefly as you walk up the stairs of your apartment building. By the third flight, the weight’s pretty much disappeared. Sure, there’s anger at Waller for violating your agreement, but it’s so useless being annoyed with her that it washes away fast. So by the fourth flight, the whole thing is settled in your head to completion. You’ll go back to your Suicide Squad- or a Suicide Squad, considering most people Waller selects are idiots. Then you’ll do the job, and walk away bing, bang, boom. 

You tip your head politely as if in salute to the older woman, Mallorca, who occupies the apartment across from you. She returns a warm smile that raises her prominent and wrinkled jowls, igniting the fire in her warm brown eyes. “You need me to do your laundry again?” 

Of course an angel such as Mallorca would make such an offer. It’s not a bad offer, either. Your dark, silver lined chest plate is splattered with blood all over the front. It’s nobodies blood that doesn’t deserve it, as per your agreement with Waller. Just some perverted little prick who thought with his dick instead of his brain with the wrong girl. She looked frightened, and you saved her, and since the prick had just hit 18 (a fact you learned after rummaging around his wallet after), you had permission to bash his brain in. Hence the blood splattered vigilante armor. 

The first time Mallorca had seen such a sight, she had no reaction whatsoever. You weren’t sure what else you were expecting from an old woman living in a back alley apartment building, but it certainly wasn’t that. She offered no shock to your red masked, blood stained roommate either. Mallorca is simply an otherworldly being. And is that cocaine you see on the collar of her shirt?

“I got it,” you throw in return, rounding the corner so she’s at your back, and nearing the climb up the next and last flight of stairs. “Hey, is Jason home?” But when you turn around fully, Mallorca shows no intention of responding and has disappeared down your previous staircase. You clasp your hands against the sides of your thighs, “Oh, okay.”

You make your way up the final steps and stick a hand in a secret back pocket to fish around for your keys. You wince when you begin the rigorous task of tugging the lanyard free from the depths, which unfortunately fell near to your back hole. Then you slip the key into the lock and twist. 

Inside your apartment is near emptiness. There’s a couch, a rug, some windows, a TV, and to your immediate right is a small kitchen beside a hallway that leads to a bathroom and two bedrooms. You see the large plant you’d stuck in the corner is wilted and tinged brown, and the TV is playing some movie with the sound muted. No sign of your roommate, however. 

You toss your helmet and keys onto the couch. Then you make your way to the kitchen to search the fridge for a snack (that you know is not there) or perhaps some water. You bend down to peek an eye in, only to stand back up and close the thing. Then you pass over to the counter, and reach up to now peek an eye in the overhead cabinet. 

“You’re home early.”

You let out a short-but cathartic- scream, jumping as you turn around. You relax quickly. It’s only Jason, and your face changes from shocked and panicked to simply annoyed. 

The man at the other side of the room pulls his infamous red helmet from atop his face. Underneath is a classically masculine, handsome face with eyes that blend between green and blue. Black hair falls free in messy strands, accented by the one white tuft that you’ve claimed reminds you of a skunk. You tilt your head lazily in defeat. “How many times have I told you not to do that?”

Jason shrugs in his red hoodie and jeans, walking across the room to set the helmet on the coffee table. “Four. Any particular reason you’re home so early?” he flops himself onto the couch and kicks his feet up, crossing them tastefully next to the Red Hood helmet. 

You turn back around to continue the task of grabbing a cup from the top cabinet. “It’s been five, and I apologize for assuming I could do what I wanted in my own home.”

“If you have to ask me to stop sneaking up on you five times, you’re probably a really bad vigilante.”

“Fuck,” you mutter as you fill the cup with tap water. “That’s true.”

You turn around to face Jason. His eyes are already on you, illuminated by the blue glow from the television. They linger purely on your form for a moment, then they dip down to narrow at your armor. “Were you the one who killed that guy on the back of main?”

You furrow your brows and look up with pursed lips in thought. “Are you talking about the main diner or the main records shop?”

“Main diner on main street.”

“No, that was Azrael. This was by the records shop.” You raise the glass to your lips.

Jason snaps his fingers. “Oh, that guy. The kid?”

You nod and take another sip of the water. “He just turned eighteen, so you know. Free game. So, what do you want for dinner? Pick something good. I’m going back to the squad so I won’t be here for a few weeks.”

Jason’s brows furrow for a split second, then he perks up attentively. “You’re going back to the task force?” he repeats, though it sounds defeated and disbelieving. Distraught- is that the word you’re looking for?

“Yeah,” you shrug. “I got the letter-” you set the cup of water down and reach a hand into your pocket. Then you pull the crumpled envelope free of its confines and toss it onto the counter, “-today.”

Jason’s eyebrows furrow again. This time the movement is quick and curved and almost offended. “So, that’s it then?”

“What’s wrong, Jason?” you smirk. “Did you finally fall in love with your roommate turned friend? I always knew this day would come.”

“Uh, no?”

“Suit yourself.”

You turn back around and begin rinsing the cup out. Jason watches your back, something in his chest sinking. You weren’t his best friend. Besides living together, you weren’t really all that close. You were living a life a lot like his, running around at night as some antihero vigilante. The only difference was that you’d crossed paths with Waller and had managed to make it out of her system alive. Most antihero vigilante’s weren’t so lucky. Most of them died. But now you’re telling Jason right to his face that you’re going back. That you think you’ll only be gone a few weeks when it could just be forever. Sprayed with dark blood all over... what if it was yours?

“Actually,” Jason leans forward. His legs drop from the table and spread open, elbows resting against his knees with a hunched back. “Why don’t you pick dinner tonight?”

The glass clinks against the metal of the sink as you set it inside. Jason almost always picks dinner. Most of the time he chooses burgers or Chinese. Your apartments stove isn’t working, so eating from home really just means a BLT sandwich for the both of you. 

“Are you offering because you’re hoping I’ll choose that new steakhouse?” you smile.

“I’ll get you anything you want,” the man replies. “It’s on me.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Jason meets you on the roof of the building about an hour and a half later. You wanted to go with him, since you’d say his behavior is different from usual, but he was very adamant about you staying in. Jason even encouraged you to go ahead and pick your favorite movie to watch while he’s gone. 

When you told him you’d decided on the steakhouse option, you meant it ironically. Between the two of you, money could be described as ‘tight’. Going to a new place like that would mean saving for a while. Furthermore, you hadn’t even given him your order before Red Hood was gone. 

To his credit, looking at him now, you wouldn’t change a thing. The first bite of the food is phenomenal. The second bite is just perfect. Jason must have mind reading powers to be so aware of your taste in food- you’d thought he never noticed. 

He gets a steak, as predicted. Jason loves steak. 

Gotham looks most like itself at night, a view shared between the two of you. Two sets of legs dangle over the side of your building, both of which are clad in heavy boots and armored knees. Jason had decided to go out as his alter ego- a fact he thought he could keep from you by putting his hoodie under his leather jacket. 

“I saw you put your helmet by the door,” you tell him. “I know what’s under that sweatshirt.”

“No you didn’t,” is all he says back. 

The wind tickles the back of your neck. It ripples through the air in lazy waves, making Jason’s hair ruffle. The white skunk streak disappears and reappears between the darker-than-midnight-sky strands. Behind Jason, the moon is full and lonely. Its only company is the two of you. 

“Oh my god,” you stuff your mouth. “This is so good.”

“Hm,” Jason hums in agreement, stabbing his steak once again with a fork in his black to-go box. It’s the next movement of his shoulder that catches your eye. 

“Jason, is that cocaine, or powder donut dust?” 

Jason glances over at you. 

Your eyes linger on the white splotch of something in the wrinkles of red fabric. “Because I asked you not to eat them since there’s only two left.”

Your face slowly falls to one of horror as Jason stays still. With a face of steel, he finally says, “It’s cocaine then.”

“Then?”

“Look what I got you.”

Jason sets his box to the ledge beside him and leans down. 

“Worst subject change ever.” You take an angry bite of your meal in an attempt to both silence yourself and to make you feel better. Unfortunately as you pull away from the bite, crumbs attach themselves to your chest plate and stick to your fingers. “Crap. Jason, your dumb food is getting shit all over my stuff!”

When you look over, Jason’s orbs are already on you. His eyes pierce yours, almost unintentionally daring them to look away. The skunk strands glow this close. He holds two things in his hands. The first is a small, brown pot you could balance in the palm of your hand, filled with miniature yellow and red flowers. Scarlet tulips, golden sunflowers, and blonde alstroemerias. In the other hand is a Blu-ray copy of your favorite film. 

“Oh,” is all you can muster out. 

When was the last time the two of you had actually exchanged gifts? You weren’t lovers, or best friends. You were just friends. It had to have been last Christmas, when you had gotten him a TV subscription for South Park and a pair of socks. Jason had gifted you a new bedframe that he later helped you put together. 

A big smile reaches your eyes and makes your cheeks sore. “I haven’t been able to find this anywhere,” you say, taking the movie from his fingers. Your voice comes out pure and genuine. “Thank you.” Your smile grows even larger when you cup the pot of flowers with both hands. 

“All of the flower shops were closed,” Jason explains. “Those are plastic. They won’t die anytime soon.”

At that moment, you swear you could’ve kissed him. He’s looking at you like this is all nothing, like he didn’t just drop big money on dinner and flowers for you. Jason knew what food you wanted before you did. He knew your favorite movie when you can’t even remember saying a thing about it. When had any other man or woman been so thoughtful? So romantic? So caring?

You glance down to the film in your lap. “I didn’t think you payed attention this well.”

Jason’s brow quirks upwards. Something flashes in his eyes as he adjusts his position, seven stories up from the ground. “What kind of roomie would I be if I didn’t?” he asks. Something tells you there’s a shyness blooming in that broad chest of his. Jason’s eyes flit downward to the blood on you, before his head dips back upwards to lock a stare with you once more. “You smell nice,” he states.

You look up at him simply. You know your eyes are filled with pure adoration, and that it’s showing all over your face, but you don’t care. Your red hooded, drug pedaling, bat wrangling, gun toting equal roommate is your favorite person in all of Gotham at this exact moment. 

Behind Jason, a small bird flits overhead with a flash of crimson. “Hey, look,” you pat Jason’s shoulder. His eyes follow yours until they land on the floor of the roof behind you. “I think it’s a robin.”

“I know that bird,” Jason scowls. “That’s the son of the bitch that keeps waking me up in the morning.”

“Hm?”

You watch as Jason swings his legs over the side and pushes himself from the ledge. One hand reaches into the back of his pants while the other searches his leather jacket pocket for something. After a few seconds, he produces both a clip of ammo and a gun, which connect with a click. 

“Ah!” you yelp, placing both the flowers and movie on the brick before copying your friends actions and standing on the roof. Jason hasn’t shot yet, but the gun in his hand is aimed right at the little birdie. He’s got a clean shot. His face remains neutral and unmoving as you take your place beside him. 

It’s a full minute, and the robin is still alive and intact. He nibbles on a little crumb of bread. “He looks happy,” you think out loud. The air of Gotham goes quiet up on that roof, despite the distant sirens, music, and people throughout the city. “Are you gonna shoot?”

Jason’s finger lingers over the trigger. Even the slightest of a squeeze would set the weapon off at this point. The balls of your feet move to and froe, anticipating the bang you’re so familiar with. But then Jason lowers the gun completely, and the robin flies away at the movement. “Nah. He’ll feel the pain I dish out in the morning.”

“Don’t be sad,” you nudge Jason. “He’ll be back at six AM tomorrow to wake you up.” You turn to return to your beckoning food on the ledge. “Thanks for all this, anyway.”

“You’re welcome,” you hear Jason respond. “Hey Y/N?”

Jason watches you spin until you’re completely facing him. He can see the blood again. How it’s completely standing out against the darkness of your outfit. You look powerful, yeah. And you look like the antihero you’re labeled as. But all Jason sees is a corpse of a... of a friend. “Yeah?”

“You’re sure about this Waller thing?”

“Yeah?” you reply, as if it were obvious. The stain on you is so haunting it’s easy to think otherwise. “It’s not like I have much of a choice. It’ll only be a few weeks. I’ll be back before you know it. Then I can show you this sick ass movie.”

Then you go back to walking towards the ledge to retake your seat. But Jason remains standing. He watches as you, the person he thinks of naked so often, get comfortable, your back facing him. And, despite your word, Jason has the sinking feeling that some Suicide Squad mission isn’t the only place Amanda Waller will send you to. 

This time, Amanda Waller will send you to your grave.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

This was supposed to be out on August 16th, for Jason’s birthday. But the concept came to me too late and I spent too long on it. Anyway, here’s some symbolism for ya.

Tulips symbolize unconditional love. Sunflowers symbolize adoration. Alstroemeria’s symbolize devotion. The reader describes the plant in their apartment as turning brown, suggesting it may share a similar fate as the reader as plants go brown when about to die. Robin’s symbolize optimism, a trait the reader displays towards the idea of returning to the Suicide Squad. Robin was also a former identity of Red Hood. Both of which could be why Jason decides to spare the bird. 

I’ll go back and proof read this in the morning.

[mandoalorian]

Honeymoon [Din Djarin x F!Reader] - **SMUT**

Summary: You’ve been saving your credits for months in order to treat your husband to the surprise honeymoon you both deserve. He’s a little on edge though, despite the luscious, tropical environment he’s surrounded by. So, as his wife, you do everything in your means to get him to relax.

Warnings: unprotected p in v, riding, cockwarming, orgasm denial, cunningless, cum eating, spanking, anal fingering, breeding kink, slight sub!Din if you squint. 18+ only.

Word count: 2600+

Reblogs appreciated. 💙

Beyond The Sea Masterlist

-—-—-—♡—-—-—-

Marrying Din Djarin was the best decision of your life. 

Standing dead centre in the middle of your hotel suite, your husband had never looked so out of place. The yon orange sunlight seeped through the crack in the voile curtains, and a warm, summer breeze waved gently through your hair. You could tell, even through his beskar Mandalorian helmet, that your husband was completely stricken by the beauty of the great outdoors. Your view from outside the hotel suite was a novelty, for sure. The beach’s water circled around the hotel and pooled outside into a tranquil, turquoise coloured ocean. A distance from your window, but not too far, was a growing jungle of vines and trees, habited by various reptilian animals that were distinct to the planet of Scarif. You couldn’t wait to meet them all.

You’d saved up credits, and it had taken almost a year, but finally— finally, you could afford this. A sanctuary. A small vacation. Something you could call your honeymoon. It was long overdue.

Din had warned you when you married him that a honeymoon wasn’t on the cards. It just wasn’t plausible. He was a bounty hunter and he worked every damn day, risking his life just so he could bring back enough credits to put food on the table for you and Grogu. A holiday of any sorts was out of the question.

But you’d been saving up in secret, and if he’d ever found out about your planned endeavour — well, he’d never approve. Good job he’d managed to keep out of your way when you bought the tickets for the five star hotel suite. What proved to be even more of a challenge, was persuading Din to take you to the remote and tropical island planet of Scarif. 

You left the kid with Peli Motto on Tatooine, much to Din’s disdain. You’d spoken to Greef and broken a deal with him in secret; that the guild master was not allowed to provide Din with any bounties prior to the week you were due to go away. Everything rolled out perfectly, just as planned.

For the first time in a long time, your clan of three was living a stress free life, void of any anxieties related to Din and his profession. You loved him with your mind, body and soul, and accepted him for who he was. But part of you, a small part of your heart, hoped that one day, maybe he’d give up bounty hunting for good. He was getting older now. You’d occasionally pick out the greying hairs in his stubble, and the crinkles in the corners of his starry brown eyes were becoming increasingly more prominent. There was a beautiful galaxy out there, and he’d only seen the bad parts. The parts that were rampant with crime and death. You hoped that this honeymoon trip to Scarif would show him the true beauty of the world -- and everything he was missing out on.

He couldn’t bounty hunt forever. One of these days, he was going to have to settle down.

“I can’t believe you did this,” Din announced, picking up some complimentary hotel chocolates that had been left on his pillow. He pulled off his mustard coloured gloves and began to fiddle with the red foil wrapper. “All of this. I can’t believe you did all of this without me knowing.”

“I was afraid you’d be mad at me.” you mumbled, subconsciously rocking backwards and forwards on your heels. Din couldn’t even begin to imagine how much this trip had cost you, and to be honest, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the exact figure. 

“I am mad at you.” He retorted, but you could sense the air of amusement in his voice. Din Djarin was an esteemed bounty hunter, the best in the Guild. He prided himself in being the best too. He was always one step ahead of everyone, always knowing what was about to come before others even knew themselves. Apparently though, his skill was lost on you. Part of him though, was proud. A pretty big part of him, to be exact.

He was chuffed to be able to call you his wife. He didn’t believe the day would ever come. 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” you pondered out loud, looking around the hotel suite. “Did you see those big colourful birds as we walked in? They were enormous. We should check out the gift shop and buy a disposable camera. I know Grogu would love to see the photos when we get back.”

Din tilted his helmet in acknowledgement of your comment, but opted to stay silent, his eyes fixated on you and only you. Yeah, he was sure Scarif was a beautiful planet (there was no doubt in his mind), but not even all the colourful birds or glistening waters in the whole galaxy could ever compare to the beauty of you. Your eyes snapped back towards Din when he didn’t respond, and you felt your mouth part as a knowing sigh escaped your lips.

“Tell me you don’t…” you closed your eyes, already mentally preparing yourself for his answer. “...Tell me you don’t have hunting mode initiated under that tin can helmet of yours.”

You knew that, under his black tinted visor, he was always in hunting mode. He had to ensure your safety one way or another. When he turned off hunting mode, everything was normal and in colour (despite this one glitch of pixels he had to get fixed). But when he was in hunting mode, his vision was a dull chiaroscuro. 

“We don’t know how safe this planet is,” Din declared, his voice stern as he tried to reason with you. “We just arrived and I’ve never been here before. I haven’t even done a recce.”

You extended your arm and shushed him. “You haven’t been here before because no bounty or crime syndicate ever comes to Scarif. Since the battle between the Rebellion and the Empire, it’s been under full surveillance by the New Republic. There is security on every corner.”

“That doesn’t exactly work well in my favour.” Din muttered, although deep down he knew you were right.

“Do you really think I would’ve taken you somewhere that wasn’t safe for either of us? I’ve been planning this honeymoon for months, Din. Please, trust me.”

It hurt, seeing your husband like this. After bounty hunting his whole life, he was so… on edge. He always struggled to relax. You thought a tropical vacation might’ve just done the trick but maybe he needed more.

“Okay, you’re right. I trust you.” Din sighed in admittance, and you cracked one of your sweetest smiles at his revelation. It was enough to ease Din, even just temporarily.

“It’s too late to do anything now,” you said, biting your lip as you peeked behind the curtains and watched the sunset. “We can just stay in the hotel room and order room service, if you’d like.”

Din nodded, following your direction. He didn’t know the first thing about vacationing. But if one thing intrigued him, it was the luxurious king sized bed that stood before him. It was dressed in ivory satin sheets and silk pillow cases, and it was certainly nothing like the plank of steel you’d both lay on, back in the Crest. No, this was a real bed. You’d caught him staring at it and couldn’t help but smile at the smirk that played on your lips.

“Take off your helmet.” You requested.

“I--,” Din hesitated. “Someone could walk in and see me.”

“The door is locked. We have privacy,” you assured him. Din fumbled around some more. His heart stopped when you planted both your hands on his shoulders and searched for his eyes beneath the visor. “Trust me.” you reminded him with a plea of desperation.

He nodded and slowly began to lift off his helmet. And there, he revealed himself. Your husband. Though you’d seen his face many times now, you’d still always get an out-of-body experience, watching him take it off. Like it was some kind of sin.

“I love you so much,” Din’s unmodulated voice announced, and his brown eyes bored into your beauty. You smiled, feeling a wave of heat wash over your cheeks as you leaned your head into his chest. You slowly began to undress his plates of beskar armour, dropping them to the ground as you discarded them into a pile on the floor. “Such a pretty girl,” he cooed, and you shuddered, feeling his warm breath fan over the shell of your ear. “My pretty girl. All mine.”

“All yours,” you confirmed, dropping the final plate of beskar to the floor. “You need to relax, my love.”

“That word is foreign to me.” Din told you, smoothing out your hair before dropping his large hands down to your hips.

“So let me help you.”

You guided Din over to the bed he’d been eyeing up all night and helped him out of his under clothes, stripping him down to his boxer shorts only. You straddled his hips, pushing him back down amongst the satin sheets and letting your hands wander along his broad, scarred chest. He groaned wantonly. Your tender touch combined with the unfamiliar softness of what lay beneath him was almost enough to make him enter a meltdown. You hummed softly, your voice lulling him in the most comforting manner imaginable. Your fingers dipped further down his body and traced the short tufts of brown hair that poked out the hem of his underwear. Feeling your fingers fiddle with his waistband as he lay on the king sized bed felt ethereal. It was almost too much, he had to stop himself from swatting your hand away. If Din could have it his way, he’d grab you and roll you over, so he was on top -- taking control over you. But you had done this, all of this, to try and help him relax. So, he just lay there and surrendered to you.

The sky was dimming as the minutes passed by. You made a good habit to take your time with him, missing this kind of intimacy. Truthfully, it was hard to ever catch moments like this with Grogu being around. You and Din practically always had to sacrifice loving, passionate sex for quickies in between his bounties; and it wasn’t always easy.

“You-- you look so pretty like this, on top of me.” Your husband gasped out, his already dark eyes growing shades darker with lust.

For a split second, you pulled off him and untied your tunic, letting your simple robe fall to the ground and revealing your almost naked body to him. He was obsessed with you. Absolutely smitten, and it was unlike anything he’d ever been like with anyone ever before. Straddling him once more, you began to grind over his half hard cock, moaning at the friction between his underwear and your lace panties.

You leaned down and pressed your soft lips against his, enveloping him into a sweet kiss. You drop your lips along his gruff jaw and down the column of his neck, making a conscious effort to suck at his sweet spot you’d memorised so well. Reluctantly, you pulled off him and hovered over his lap, signalling with your hands for him to pull down his underwear. He took his hardening cock in his hand and wiped the beads of precum that had developed at his head. Taking the salty seed on his index finger, he brought it up to your mouth and pushed the digit in between your lips. You moaned longingly, relishing in his taste before pulling off him with a pop.

Din pulled off your panties and began to stroke between your folds, groaning when he felt just how slick and ready you were for him. He squeezed your hips and nodded, illustrating that he was ready, and you took a deep breath, anticipating the delicious stretch his cock offered you. You sank down on top of him, your eyes snapping shut as you felt every amazing bump and ridge and vein of his manhood grind along your fluttering walls.

He seated deep inside of you, giving you a few minutes to adjust, and he began to rub tight circles into your clit. He was absolutely mesmerized by you. You chanted his name like it was a prayer, and Din wondered how he ever got so lucky.

Feeling you clench around him and sensing you were about to cum, Din removed his hand from your cunt and gave you a small spanking on the curve of your ass. Your gasp of shock from your orgasm denial turned into a wanton moan as you wiggled further down on him. You giggled, nudging your nose against his as you felt the same finger he’d used earlier on you, make its way to your puckered asshole. Anal was something you’d been working your way up to, but hadn’t tried yet.

“Do you want this?” Din asked, teasing your entrance with the tip of his finger.

“Mhm,” you nodded desperately.

“Are you sure you can take it?” he beckoned, a wicked smirk gracing his soft pink lips.

“Y-yes,” you whispered.

“I can’t hear you,” Din growled, giving you another spank. “Tell me you want it.”

“I want it,” you cried, “P-please Din, fuck, please. I want it.”

“Dirty girl.” He gritted out, slowly pushing his digit inside of you.

Maker, you were full. In every way imaginable, Din was filling you up, stretching you wide, and it felt… amazing. You began to rock your hips over his cock as he lazily thrust his finger inside your asshole, and you felt yourself panting with every little stroke and movement.

“You look so good, like this,” Din gasped. “Won’t last long.”

And, he didn’t. The second he felt you cumming on top of him, your walls gripping his girth tighter than a vice, he came undone. His load was large, as expected, as his seed spurted in ropes inside of you. Din’s hands wrapped around your stomach and he began to rub soothing circles in your tummy. You didn’t lift off him, but instead, relished the feeling of his cock softening inside of you.

“Maybe this time it’ll work,” he grumbled. “And if not, we’ll keep trying. I won’t stop til I’ve put a baby inside of you, cya’re.”

You hummed and stretched out over him, resting your sticky forehead against his. “Good job we have all honeymoon.”

Din chuckled, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear and cupping your cheek with his hand. Well, if you’d accomplished one thing, it was that Din was certainly feeling more relaxed, that’s for sure.

-—-—-—♡—-—-—-

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[littlepadika]

💕pink 🎀 = Din

🌸floral 🌻 = meet cute

💅bratz 🍬= dom!reader

the phrase "good boy" would be nice please hehe

congrats on 500 bb 💖

Thank you Jasmine!!! Here's a sweet little blurb for you my darling!

500 followers celebration

Warnings: dom!reader, inexperienced Din, touch starved din, dindin gets a crush!!!

source: timothyolyphant

Din never did anything without reason. He was a practical man. He lived on bare necessities. So when he landed in your hangar it was because the ship would not make it to the next point without repairs.

He expected some male alien or maybe a woman like Peli with a scowl on her face not... you. You were far younger than him but possessed enough knowledge to make up for it. You immediately listed the millions of things needing fixing. Your sweet features not reduced by your spit fire attitude.

"Just the exhaust." He said pulling out his bag of credits.

"But the radiator and the hyperdrive-"

"Just the exhaust."

He watched as your face scrunched up. You wanted to protest but eventually you just sighed. He was your customer after all.

"How much?" Din asked next.

"20."

"Only 20?" Din can't help but tilt his head at such a low fee.

"Yeah since you're only letting me fix the exhaust I figure it won't be long until you're back. I'll charge you more then." You winked making Din's eyes widen behind the visor. He suddenly felt very shy. He wasn't sure why exactly. He was nearly a foot taller than you, towering over you, but your smug smile had him unnerved.

"But no imperial credits."

Din smiled. Oh... he liked you.

Din never did anything without reason. He never wanted for anything except his freedom. However, staying in this shit hole planet for one more day simply to look at you a while longer seemed like a good idea.

"You can fix the radiator too." He told you when he came back with the bounty.

"Oh? What changed your mind, Mando?"

Din didn't answer. He got away with not answering a lot because of the helmet and his intimidating form. He hid behind his helmet, watching as you smiled and shrugged.

He watched you for a moment as you went back to the ship and started unscrewing the side panel. He felt his chest softening, caving in as he watched you push some hair from your face with a huff. Admiring the way you were so pure and graceful yet skillful with your hands. You were brimming with confidence and humor. He envied it. He craved to be on the receiving end. It was times like this he wished he was anyone but a Mandalorian. A man who could come to you with something to offer. Something that someone like you would want.

"Need any help?" He came over, startling you.

"Yeah-the switch board needs new wiring I think. I have some here." You pulled the spare wire out of your tool kit. "Can you switch it out?You know how?"

Din nodded. His heart was beating strangely in his chest, he felt light on his feet walking back into the ship.

After a good couple of hours you were done with the radiator. It wasn't perfect but it was working. You closed the panel, feeling satisfied by the work. You wondered what Mando was up to. Surely it didn't take hours to change some wiring. You walked into the ship frowning at the grime and wear and tear inside the cabin. For a man as rigid as he was he showed surprising lack of care with his belongings. It was reckless, so reckless you almost wondered if he wanted the ship to fall apart. Wanted a reason to finally give up the work. Perhaps it was just you romanticizing like you always did.

You ventured up to the cock pit after seeing he wasn't below. You found him passed out in the cockpit chair, the wires hanging out.

"Typical." You chuckled. He was probably worn out from whatever job he came from. You couldn't imagine putting your life in danger every day just to survive. It had to be draining. It certainly made him more appealing though.

You maneuvered yourself between him and the switchboard. His knees hit the back of your thighs. You looked back and saw he hadn't moved. Still asleep, you assumed.

Din was very much not asleep. He had woken up as soon as you bumped into him but he was too terrified to move. The warmth of your thighs was burning holes into his knees. It felt good. Even just this small amount of contact felt like heaven. It had been so long. So long since he had felt anything close to human touch. He forgot how good it could feel. Especially from someone like you, T

hen you did the unthinkable. You sat down on his thigh. Your back still turned. Focused on the wiring in your hand.

There was no way. There was no way Din would be able to keep still. His thigh flexed and you felt it. You spun around, standing up like you had been burned. He looked down in shame.

"Mando-Maker... how long have you been awake?"

"Just a bit."

"Oh shit. I'm sorry." You rubbed your hand over your face.

You saw him squirm, his knees bumping against the front of his thighs. He looked... forlorn. How could you even tell with the helmet on? Just the deflated posture. Like he was ashamed. You instantly felt bad for cringing away from him. It hurt his pride, you think. So many were scared of him or disgusted by him, and you'd be damned if you were like everyone else.

"Mando?" You bent over, placing a hand on his warm knee. "Did you want me to get up?"

There was a long pause where you questioned your life choices. The impenetrable visor blinded you to his reaction. You just saw your inquiring eyes in the reflection. You didn't see how his eyes widened and his pupils dilated.

"No." He croaked.

"Okay then." You slowly sat back down onto his thigh. He stiffened beneath you making you question whether he liked it. His short one word answer was as close as you were getting to any explanation. Maybe he didn't let himself like touch. Poor thing, you thought.

"Mando. Relax. I'm not going to hurt you." Your voice softened almost as if you were talking to a scared animal.

Mando took a deep breath, his muscles relaxing.

"Good boy." You rewarded him.

He tensed back up again, and not in a bad way. It reflected interest. A change in the tension between you two. You grinned at his responsiveness. His sensitivity to praise.

"Seems the ship isn't the only thing that's neglected."

Din didn't say anything but you could hear his breath deep and ragged through the voicecoder. His hands were gripping the arm rests in a vice grip. You would be starting from scratch with him, your favorite. The wiring long forgotten. You'd get back to it once Mando was passed out from pleasure.

"Relax for me, good boy. Let me work on you, too."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[phoenixyfriend]

If you are doing them the soulmate fic starter 3 or 9 for rexwalker? I love all your star wars stuff so much

soulmate au prompts

3. the one where you and your soulmate have matching marks on your bodies. 9. the one where your soulmate’s last words to you are written on your body.

Featuring marginally-less-terrible Jango with more excuses than usual.

------

The Kaminoans hate soul marks.

Rex knows this from the day he knows to ask. The Nulls and Alphas don’t have any soul marks, just scars where there was once a promise. The eldest clones have records, at least, where the scientists had taken photos before beginning th surgeries, but the marks themselves are long gone.

Prime had found out about the removals and thrown a fit, raging so intensely that Nala Se had ended up intubated from the damage he’d dealt, and she hadn’t been the only one. Rex isn’t old enough to remember that, but Cody is, and he whispers the story in the dead of night more than once. Nobody likes Prime very much, except Boba, but that’s one of the few instances they can point to and say ‘he cares more than he likes to admit.’

It’s anathema on Mandalore, one brother claims, a light in his eyes that Rex hasn’t ever seen before. That’s what I heard him telling one of the aruetti trainers.

So is refusing your children so much as a name, another grouses, and the conversation dies an ugly little death. So is letting your children die just because you don’t think they’re good enough. So is turning your back from even letting them be part of your house, let alone part of your clan. Sounds like he cares more about our soul marks than he does for our lives.

Rex doesn’t know how to address that. He does get a personal visit from Prime, one day, gets asked to show his little marking to the man that is, in some ways, his father.

“Another one,” Jango Fett mutters to the trainer that came with him, the woman holding a datapad and ready to record whatever it is that they’re looking for. He passes a thumb over the marking, frowning. “A lightsaber, lit white, with pale blue halo, between a set of symbolic Jaig eyes. The eyes are dark blue, slightly desaturated. I think they’re meant to frame it like an exaggerated beskad crossguard.”

“Sir?” Rex asks.

“That makes six,” Jango says, still so quiet, and then shakes his head. “Thank you for showing me, 7567.”

“Rex,” he corrects, before he can second-guess himself. “I’m Rex.”

“Thank you, Rex.”

------

The rumors say that anyone with a lightsaber soul mark is going to have a jedi for a soulmate.

Rex isn’t sure how true that is, but he’s eager to find out.

Prime gets more erratic, more unpleasant at times and almost awkwardly nice at others. Rex meets the others who got Jedi soul marks. He’s the youngest, so far.

Jango tells them all to hide the markings, and to keep them secret. They’d already all known that much, that only batchmates should be told about soul marks. All the adults that should know already do, after all.

“Where’s your dad going?” Rex asks once, when Boba’s been handed over to Cody’s squad for looking after while Prime goes haring off on some trip that nobody gets to know about. Rex hangs out with Cody’s squad more than his own batch, it feels like, but that’s a whole thing that he’s not supposed to talk about since the late transfer to command track.

“Dunno,” Boba says, kicking his feet back and forth. “My soul mark came in. Something about it made him really angry, I think.”

Rex doesn’t ask to see it.

It’s not his place.

------

The Alpha batch is getting quieter, angrier, and end up in hushed conversations with Prime and some of the trainers so often that the rumors start up harder than before. Rex keeps his head down, because the Kaminoans get antsier when Jango does. Soul marks come up more often, and Rex gets called in to talk to the Alpha clones about his mark. He’s not supposed to, but Prime says it’s important, and Prime is in charge.

“Oh, is that all it took?” one of the Alphas sneers, and Prime shoots them a look that has Rex taking a few hasty steps back. The Alpha clone isn’t even fully grown yet, by natborn standards, but they don’t back down. “What, ready to stop being a dar’buir--”

“That’s enough,” Prime says, low and hard, and the Alpha clone rolls their eyes. “There’s a child here.”

“So now you care about that?”

Rex is escorted back to his rooms.

------

Decommissioning finally stops, for all that it requires Jango almost decapitating a Kaminoan, and someone Rex hopes he never sees again shows up.

(His memory is blurred. He’s sure the man was human, and tall. Elderly enough to have white hair, probably? A... there was fabric that swished when he turned, something dramatic, but...)

(He is not the only one that cannot remember.)

It takes years for anything else to come of it all... at least where the clones can see.

------

Rex is fully grown, as far as clones go. His aging is supposed to slow down to ‘natborn normal’ now, because he’s reached his full height and most of his brainpower, and he’s officially old enough to fight on the field if the war starts tomorrow.

It might.

“Hey, look up.”

Rex listens, and looks, and sees a natborn with Nala Se, pale skinned and with reddish hair, soaked to the bone. They wear robes, brown and heavy-looking. Even as he watches, another natborn jogs up from behind, also sodden and pale, but with darker hair that sticks up despite the water. A third joins them, a tad slower and more controlled; this one wears all white, and they--maybe she?-- are slight and small and poised in a way that Rex thinks might be how a natborn leader carries themselves, if they aren’t a soldier.

They pass on through the walkway, showing emotions that the Kaminoans can’t read and the clones absolutely can. None of it is... good.

“Shit,” someone mutters. “That was a Jedi.”

“Venn--”

“What if they don’t want us?”

------

Rex is called to Prime’s rooms.

He tries not to look at the wide eyes of the brothers he’s been gossiping with, just stands and pulls on his full kit. He hesitates at his bucket, but then pops it on and marches to what might be his doom. It’s probably not.

He hopes it’s not.

He knocks, and is let in by Boba, and sits down on the couch when Prime tells him to. He removes his helmet when asked. Boba hops up onto the couch between Rex and his father, and leans in against Rex’s side.

There’s a list on the table, one he recognizes, quickly writing out all the paired elements on the Jedi-Clone soul marks. Nobody who isn’t already involved in the project would know it. He spots the ‘yellow tickets’ that Bly got tattooed on his face recently, the ones he won’t claim are or aren’t related to his mark. He spots his own listing of Jaig eyes.

“Prime?”

His... progenitor, maybe, in this situation, looks at him, and holds up a hand. “You saw the list. You can guess why Rex is here.”

Oh. Prime’s using his name without prompting. That’s nice.

“I can’t read it,” the younger Jedi says, with something that might be a pout. Rex wants  to roll his eyes, but his helmet is on the table. People would see.

“It’s in Mando’a,” the elder tells him, voice low, and then glances between Rex and the younger Jedi. “Fett, how did you know which one to call? I can guess some things, but--”

“I have a good eye. The hilts are all different. Only one matches.”

“I see.”

Rex fidgets, and tries not to wonder at... at... oh. The younger Jedi’s lightsaber hilt does match Rex’s soul mark.

Boba notices when Rex starts picking at his glove, pressing a finger right to the mark on his wrist, and frowns up at him. He grabs Rex’s hand to still it, and tries to ask a question with his eyebrows. He is mostly unsuccessful.

“Anakin,” the elder Jedi says. Rex still doesn’t know his name. “Your hand, please?”

“Why?”

“...you’ll understand in a minute,” the Jedi says, long-suffering in the way of the trainers who dealt with the youngest cadets. “Your hand. No, the other one.”

“Why do you need my hand?”

“Reasons, Anakin. You there, ah... Rex, was it?”

“Yessir.”

The Jedi flinches. “Right. I suppose I’ll have to get used to that... right, Rex, can you come here? I imagine you know what it is that I’m looking to compare.”

Rex has been taught to listen to Jedi, but he has no idea who he’s supposed to listen to here. The older Jedi is probably in charge, but Rex hasn’t been assigned to anyone yet, so isn’t Prime still technically the closest thing he has to a CO?

He glances at Prime, who just gestures for Rex to go ahead with it.

Rex pulls off a glove, pulls back his sleeve, and bares the symbol on his wrist for inspection.

The younger Jedi’s face morphs from confused irritation to surprise, and then... something Rex doesn’t want to analyze too closely. He’s not sure if it’s wonder or horror. He wasn’t aware the expressions could look so similar.

The Jedi--Anakin--pulls back his own sleeve, moves his wrist to Rex’s and watches as the marks glow faintly from the proximity.

“Looks like Fett was right,” the elder Jedi mutters. He doesn’t sound happy. He looks at the other natborn, the one Rex is pretty sure is a woman, and raises an eyebrow.

She shakes her head, eyes closed.

“You said there were others?” the elder Jedi prompts, and Prime nods. “We are no more open about our marks than most, but I can spot one, maybe two, that I can guess at. I’d need to see the actual markings to confirm, of course, and I imagine that wouldn’t be something anyone would be happy with.”

“The rest can happen naturally,” Prime dismisses. “This was just proof.”

“Not just proof, I hope,” the Jedi mutters. “I’m.. I have to call the Council.”

Rex sees the panic in Anakin’s face, and is seized by the urge to do something, anything, to fix it.

“Obi-Wan, you can’t let them--”

“Nobody’s going to separate you,” the elder Jedi says. Obi-Wan, apparently. “And there’s no ‘let,’ Anakin, they outrank me. Significantly. Right now, I’m concerned about the implications of this war, of multiple of these cloned soldiers that have been indoctrinated to fight for and serve the Jedi having soulmates among us, especially given that I have no idea how recently our wartime protocols on such things were updated. There is an entire army that is supposedly in our name, ordered by a man ten years dead.”

“Count Dooku is involved,” Prime says, dark and satisfied and petty. “Calling himself Darth Tyrannus. The Kaminoans mostly believe he is an isolated and reclusive Jedi Master that serves as their contact when Sifo-Dyas is unavailable.”

The Jedi named Obi-Wan closes his eyes and breathes deeply, and then stands. “Right. That’s... well, alright, I absolutely have to call the Council now.”

Prime smiles, pulling Boba into his side. Rex finds himself tugged down to sit where Obi-Wan had been a few moments earlier.

“Why are you telling us all this?” the natborn woman says. “This Count sounds like he hired you, did he not?”

“The project predated his involvement, but yes, he’s my supervisor, so to speak.” Prime smiles that same dark smile, runs a hand over Boba’s head and pointedly doesn’t look at Obi-Wan. That smile is... unpleasant. Rex doesn’t want to look at it, and so he looks down to the faint glow at his wrist instead. “Did you know, they told me the clones would be sub-sentient and halfway to droids? Not really people? That my DNA was for the bodies, but the minds would be little more than lines of code? Do you know how much they hated that I saw the evidence of their lies written into my children’s skin?”

Rex jolts, head whipping about and hand pulling away from his soulmate, staring at Prime, his mouth agape in a way a soldier’s shouldn’t but--but he’s--

Rex has never, ever heard the Prime refer to any of them except Boba as his child. His copies, his echoes, his clones, but not his children.

A hand curls into his, and he looks down to find Anakin’s lacing their fingers together. He looks up into a hopeful, unsure smile.

Anakin tilts his head and leans in, lips to Rex’s ear, and says, “When I told Obi-Wan he was like a father to me, he didn’t even know how to respond. Just made a bad joke about it and then pretended it didn’t happen. Is this the same?”

“...close enough,” Rex breathes out, because now isn’t the time to explain just how different a clone’s existence is from what they’ve seen in the holos meant to prepare them for interacting with civilians. That ‘family’ here has always been brothers, your squad and any brother that chooses to take you on, or a brother you choose to nurture, that the Alphas raise them more than Prime or the trainers do, that the older squads are who they turn to because the adults won’t help, that they don’t have parents, and they are discouraged from thinking of children in their futures.

(Protecting intellectual property, one of the scientists had mused. They’d made it very, very difficult for any of the clones to impregnate a partner. Not impossible, because to make it impossible was itself impossible, but... nearly so.)

“There’s millions of us,” Rex says instead. “He doesn’t... he doesn’t usually acknowledge most of us as his.”

Anakin’s face twists, already angry, and the glare he aims at Prime is ghastly. Rex might already be a little in love, just for that. The way Anakin’s fingers squeeze around his is nice, too.

Prime does not notice.

“Can I see the contract you say you signed?” the natborn woman says, and Prime eyes her. He nods, at length, weighing her worth and finding she measures up to whatever it is that he’s decided is necessary.

“Boba, go pack like we’re going on a hunt,” Prime says, pulling out a personal datapad and only dropping his gaze to find the right file. “We’ll probably be leaving tonight.”

“Okay, buir,” Boba says, sliding off the couch. “Am I telling the Alphas the thing you said?”

“No, I’ll handle that myself. You just pack.” He stands, nods to the natborn woman, and moves around the table. “Senator, I’ll sit with you, if you don’t mind. I imagine you and Knight Kenobi are the best suited to get this problem fixed.”

“And me?” Anakin demands.

“You,” Prime says, with a just a hint of condescending drawl. “have just met your soulmate. I assumed you’d want some privacy to get to know each other.”

Anakin flushes, a little angry and a lot embarrassed. It’s frighteningly cute. “I--I mean--I don’t--”

“The clones are mentally the ages they look, but do remember they’ve had practically no time to gain any sort of experience,” Prime says, already ignoring them in favor of pointing something out on the datapad to the senator. “Take advantage of any of my kids, and I’ll be the one hunting you down. I’m told I’m rather good at it.”

Anakin’s face does some acrobatics. Rex would pay more attention, but he can feel himself turning just as red.

“Rex, you know where the private meeting room is,” Prime says, and waves a hand in the direction of the tiny, tiny office that’s by the door. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Be nice,” the Senator hisses, smacking Prime’s arm.

“He’s ten.”

“...still.”

Rex just stands and pulls Anakin away to the little room before things can get worse.

They’re delayed when Obi-Wan asks what they’re doing from the kitchen he’s been using to get a spot of privacy, but then Anakin says “we’re just going to talk, Master,” and they get an aggrieved sigh and a response of “the clothes stay on, padawan, and you’ll need to finish up whatever conversation you have soon, there’s work to do and being a padawan only excuses you from so much.”

Rex backs into the meeting room, yanks Anakin in, and then decides to throw caution to the wind and just press their lips together.

Oh.

Okay.

He’s kissing back.

Lack of caution: good.

The mark at his wrist thrums, warm and comfortable, and Rex pulls away. He stifles the noise he wants to make, and when Anakin whines, small and soft but clearly disappointed, Rex offers him a small grin he knows would get him called ‘shy’ by his asshole older brothers.

“We probably should actually get to know each other,” Rex says. “I don’t even know your last name.”

“I... yeah, I don’t know yours either, unless it’s Fett.”

“It’s not. I don’t have one.”

Anakin’s face does another one of those ‘I’m angry for you’ twists that Rex is quickly coming to recognize, and then he sighs and falls into one of the chairs. “Okay. So. I don’t know much about the soldier life. Tell me about it.”

And he does.

[crumbledcastle28]

Chapter 5: An Old Friend

Warnings: this one is mostly fluff, so I don’t think there are any warnings. Maybe references to past trauma? If I’m missing one please lmk!

Author’s Note: Chapter 5!! Enjoy!!

(gif gotten from javierian)

After the little…. predicament with the last mission…. you couldn’t deny that you had gotten closer with the anonymous man you had been living with.

You made pleasant conversation, never too deep, but you felt more comfortable in his company. You had felt the same way with Peli… but this was different.

Your heart rate would increase whenever he would talk to you, and your mood would increase as well. You were excited to get to know him! This man who had taken you in knowing absolutely nothing about you. The least you could do was make him feel comfortable around you, and that didn’t even feel like enough.

It made you happy when he would ask you questions, like “did you enjoy the dinner last night” or “how did you sleep.”

It felt good to have someone be curious and care about you in your present state, not just your past or your abilities. And you loved to ask him questions too.

If you were lucky, he would tell you a story about an old job he did, and those were the best. It was like getting little pieces to a much larger, beautiful puzzle. A puzzle you prayed you would see finished by the end of your time with him.

The best interaction you had, by far, was when he finally ate with you.

It had been a nice day. You guys had stopped for supplies and it felt good to stretch your legs a little bit.

You found a great little food stand that had fresh meat and vegetables, and you knew you could make a delicious meal out of it. You shared your excitement with Mando, who nodded and helped you carry the supplies back to the crest.

Once you made it back and put all the supplies down in the incredibly tiny kitchen, you went to work.

You used amazing spices that you hadn’t tasted in weeks on the meat, and made sure to brown the vegetables in the same pan you used for the meat. That way they would soak up the amazing rendered flavors that the meat left over. After that, you put it all together in a pot and poured savory chicken broth in to mix the flavors.

Your stomach was grumbling at the smell alone.

The kid was hungry too, you could tell by the way he stared at you while you worked, so you made sure to save a hefty serving for him when you poured the meal into serving bowls.

You gave the little guy his serving and set yours right next to his on the dining table. You then carried Mando’s serving to the cockpit to give it to him.

You had an idea…. and you hated how you got your hopes up that he would agree.

You stood behind the pilot’s chair for a moment, until you finally took a deep breath and said, “Dinner is ready.”

Mando spun around in his chair and took the bowl from you.

“This smells amazing. Thank you,” he said and got up to walk to his room. He always ate in there because of his creed, and you felt a pull on your heartstrings every time you would think about him eating all alone. You wanted him with you and the kid. You felt full when you three were together, and Mando eating alone felt like you were leaving him out. You knew what that felt like, and you never wanted to inflict it on others.

This was it. This was the moment.

“Wait,” you said, and he turned back around to you, still holding the bowl in his hands.

Every time he looked at you straight on you felt your nerves creep up your spine and your hands become fidgety. You felt cheesy and stupid. This man was basically your roommate, not some partner you needed to impress.

But why does it feel that way?

“I uh… I was thinking that maybe.. we could figure out a way to eat together? I feel bad that you have to eat alone in your room, so maybe I could.. I don’t know.. turn around? And get the kid to do that as well? If you aren’t comfortable with that I totally get it, I just.. feel really bad that you don’t have anyone to eat with,” you say.

Of course he will say no. Why would he trust someone to just “turn around?” As if they wouldn’t want to catch a glimpse?

Your hopes were sinking every moment he stood in silence, and you weren’t liking your chances.

He looked down at his bowl and then back up at you, and these were the moments you wished he wasn’t so good at hiding his emotions. You wanted to see and feel what he was thinking, but he was impenetrable. He was like a stone wall, and you hated it.

He sighed, obviously thinking about what you said, and you just waited. You didn’t want to pressure him anymore. He can make his own decisions, and you can deal with them.

“If I do that,” he says, “you have to swear to me… you won’t turn around. And you won’t let the kid turn either.”

Your eyes widened.

It worked, you think. How the hell did that work?

“I swear Mando. I will not turn around on any circumstance, and I will do everything in my power to keep the kid at bay. If he doesn’t want to cooperate, I will eat with him away from you just to be safe. I promise,” you say and he nods.

“Ok,” he mumbles, and you smile at him. A genuine smile. A smile that says all the things you wish you could say, but are too afraid.

You hoped he wasn’t as good at reading people as you were.

“Ok. Let’s go,” you say and he follows you back to the table.

“Ok kid. You’ve gotta turn around for me ok,” you say to the kid and he babbles something incoherent.

“Thank you for the compliment on the food. I’ve known that recipe for a while,” you say with a giggle while turning his chair around.

You turn yours around as well and grab your bowl to set on your lap.

You and the child are now facing away from Mando, eating your dinner, and you couldn’t be happier.

Your belly slowly becoming more full calms your excitement, until you hear a small hiss and the sound of metal scratching the floor.

It’s off. Mando’s helmet is off.

You take a deep breath and close your eyes.

He did it. He really trusts me to do this.

You hear the sounds of him eating the soup and you swear this couldn’t get any better.

You go back to eating with a huge grin on your face, and you keep the child in your peripheral vision to make sure he doesn’t turn either.

You had connected with him through the force a couple of times since your first meeting. You had gotten better at reading the little one, and you could see just a faint look of understanding in his body language.

He didn’t waver. He didn’t squirm. He just ate as still as he could, and you were so grateful.

Seriously? This was all it took for the kid to behave, you wondered to yourself

Mando mumbling, “This is really good,” shatters through your thoughts like ice.

Mando’s voice. His true voice, just hit your ears for the first time ever, and you wanted it burned into your brain forever. You never wanted to hear anything different.

It wasn’t just the sound of it, but the feeling. You could hear the gratitude in his voice and it sent chills down your arms.

It was him. His voice. Something no one could ever replicate. It was truly his own.

“Thank you,” you say and take another sip of your soup. Your appetite has basically vanished at this point, and your ears just yearn to hear more.

“I think the kid is enjoying himself,” you say, and you pray you get Mando’s rarest gem of all in its rawest form.

And you do.

He gives a soft chuckle of a laugh. “Yeah, I think so too,” he says and takes another bite.

If you dropped dead right now, you would die a happy woman.

How do you even iterate what that felt like? What it felt like to hear this big, scary, metallic man give off something so vulnerable to you.

Had other people heard this at all? Maybe not even since he was a child?

Your hands started to shake from the endorphins and you finished your bowl. You took the kid’s bowl as well and placed it inside your own and just sat. Just soaked in this happy moment that you never wanted to end.

If only you knew how big of a smile Mando had on his face behind you.

~~*~~

A few days pass and the energy on the ship is the best it’s ever been.

You had eaten dinner together every day since then, and you wondered how something so simple could make you so….happy.

Mando was at his pilot’s chair (as usual) and he called for you to come to the cockpit.

Luckily it was pretty late, so the kid was passed out.

You made your way to the cockpit and saw that Mando had an image broadcasting from the ship’s holoprojecter. The image was of a man with a darker skin tone and flecks of grey in his hair. He looked like he had been through a lot, as his clothes were slightly tattered and ripped.

“I’d like you to hear this,” Mando said before pressing play.

The man in the image proceeded to explain how ranks of ex- imperial guards were ruling over his city and they needed Mando’s help to take them down. He proposed that Mando return to Nevaro and bring the child as bait, and once they got near the client, Mando would kill him.

The man said that if Mando succeeded, he would have his name cleared in the Guild and he can keep the child.

The clip ended and Mando turned to face you.

“What do you think,” he asked, and you looked to the floor with knit eyebrows, thinking.

“Bringing the child as bait is incredibly risky, but if you trust that man, I don’t see a problem with it. You can take down ex- Imperial guards no problem,” you say, and he nods.

“I’m just confused how you even know that man,” you say.

“He’s… an old friend,” Mando says, and you don’t like the sound of that.

“We kinda got off on the wrong foot last time we talked,” he said, and you nodded.

“So… he is saying you get to keep the child if you succeed, but we have had him this whole time?”

“There’s something you need to know,” he says, and he goes to explain how he really got the child, and how he has been being hunted by the Empire this whole time.

Throughout the explanation, you listen intently, nodding and keeping eye contact with Mando.

You would think that the fact that the Empire had been on your tracks the whole time would scare you, but it doesn’t.

It fuels you. You three were pissing the Empire off, and there was nothing you liked doing more.

You felt powerful. Unstoppable. For once you were making them mad, not the other way around. And you liked it.

You are not angry at Mando, not even a little. You feel relieved.

This perfect man who had given you nothing but happiness….wasn’t perfect. You had so many demons, and you found someone who did too. Someone who did something bad for the right reasons. You found a good person, who did the right thing because it was right. He had a good heart rather than an ego, and he let you in on something so precious to him. This child.

And you were not gonna let the galaxy rip him away.

Once he finished, you took a deep breath. You looked at him and smiled.

“You know…I am pretty relieved Mando,” you say, and he cocked his head to the side slightly in confusion.

“I thought you looked like that under the helmet,” you say, gesturing with your head to the sleeping green creature behind you, and you laugh.

Mando’s shoulders relax, and his grip on the arm rests of the pilot’s chair softens.

“Seriously Mando, it’s ok. You did the right thing. 99% of people would have just dumped the kid and left. I am proud of you. I am proud to be on this mission,” you say.

“If saving a baby from the Empire gets me arrested, then by all means let them arrest me.”

Mando’s shoulders shake a little. It probably felt incredible to get this off his chest. He had been keeping this from you for a while.

I wonder if eating with me helped him trust me more?

“Ok,” he breathes out of his helmet. “Good. I was hoping you’d stay.”

“Oh I’m staying alright,” you say and he gives a breathy laugh.

“But this is your decision Mando. I am up for going or staying. I know you understand there are risks in both options,” you say, referring to the offer the man on the recording had given you earlier.

“Whatever you want to do. I trust you,” you say and his head snaps back to make eye contact with you.

You give him a weak smile, and allow what you said to sink through his beskar and into his skin.

I. Trust. You.

After a moment, he turns back to his controls and stares into space.

If you’re being honest, you have no idea what you would choose. If you don’t go, the kid will keep being hunted and at risk. If you do go, that man could betray you and get you all killed.

Mando is in deep thought, as are you, and you jump a little when he starts punching coordinates into the controls.

“Sorgan? Why Sorgan?” you ask.

He turns to face back to you, and you can only imagine the cocky smirk he has on his face.

“An old friend.”

Tag list:

@leahkenobi @pinkninja200 @bookloverfilmoholic @farfromjustordinary

[dindjarinbae]

Commander Brown Eyes (Din Djarin x reader)

hi i know this wasn’t requested, but it was something i had been writing since like friday or satuday so... i have like 12 requests to get to, and i am hoping to get those all done within the next two weeks, so bear with me please!! anyways, soft din, that’s it. send tweet.

WARNINGS: none

WORD COUNT: 3979

“Y/n. I want you to come, too. You won’t show up on anything at all. You have no record.” Your boyfriend, Din Djarin, pointed out while you, Fennec, Cara, Mayfeld, Boba Fett, and Din, all stood trying to figure out who was going to accompany Mayfeld into the mining facility. 

You blinked and looked up at Din, shaking your head a few times, “I- I couldn’t possibly go, what on earth do you need me for?” You asked, getting a bit nervous. He usually adamantly refused to let you go on missions or anything of the sort in fear that you might get hurt, so why now? You looked at him quizzically and begged for an answer with your eyes. 

You got an answer, just not from Din.

“Because you’re pretty. There ain’t a single general in there that would even think to find us suspicious because they’ll be looking at you.” Mayfeld interjected and looked at Din, “That’s the idea, right Mando?” He asked and raised his eyebrows. 

Din shuffled his feet around for a second and then nodded, “I had a better way of saying it, but that works, too.” He mumbled and you could just sense that his eyes were on you. You blinked a few times and then looked at Cara and Fennec to see if they were going to protest but Fennec was nodding and Cara seemed to think this was a good idea.

“But I’m going with you two, as well. I don’t like her going in alone with you.” He spoke firmly towards Mayfeld, and Mayfeld started ranting about how that wasn’t smart because the beskar armor would be too suspicious. 

You tuned them out while they bickered amongst themselves and you turned to Boba, who you decided that you liked very much and you frowned a bit. You saw his shoulders shake in a small chuckle and he shook his head, “Don’t look at me like that, this wasn’t my idea.” He stated and folded his arms across his chest. You huffed and then dramatically sighed, getting reluctantly dragged into the mission. 

——

By the time the three of you had arrived into the base after a relentless attack from pirates, the entire base had gathered there to cheer you on. Din climbed out of the cab and held his arms out for you, and you climbed into his outstretched arms and he gently lifted you down, holding you underneath your armpits like you weighed nothing more than a rag doll. He held you for just a bit longer than normal, and you assumed he was just nervous to have you in the base with him and Mayfeld. Carefully, he set you on your feet and you looked up at him, chuckling quietly, not getting used at all to the stormtrooper outfit he had to throw on. 

“Don’t you dare say anything about it.” He mumbled and gave your ass a well concealed, playful smack. 

You giggled and grinned up at him cheekily, “I didn’t say anything! I just thought it!” You protested, and he would’ve grabbed you and whacked you on the ass again, but Mayfeld came around the front of the vehicle and he cleared his throat at the two of you. 

The playful side of Din melted away instantly and he walked up to join Mayfeld, and you trailed behind the two of them, nodding kindly at the stormtroopers that waved at you as you passed through the crowd. You looked around the crowded base and desperately wanted to grab onto Din’s arm, but all the eyes in the room suggested that you not do that. You stayed back behind them and tried to make yourself as small as possible as the two of them rendezvoused in front of the mess hall and you moved up closer to them until you you’re beside Din, your hip brushing his thigh. He glanced down at you, and more than anything in that moment, he wanted to wrap his arm around your waist and keep you in a protective grip. 

Mayfeld wandered off casually a few steps to check for a terminal, and he came back seconds later to report.

“There it is.” He spoke lowly, and Din gave him a small nod. 

“Good luck.” He said gruffly and you moved backwards behind him just a bit. But he caught your arm gently and pulled you out, “You need to go with him.” He stated and pushed you towards Mayfeld very carefully. 

You swallowed thickly and nodded, meeting Mayfeld’s eyes. He nodded towards the terminal and you looked over your shoulder at Din who nodded at you once, telling you to go. You scuttled off behind Mayfeld and followed him closely until he stopped in the threshold of the mess hall. His stance changed and he visibly tensed before turning around and walking right back the way he came, catching your arm in the process, pulling you back to Din. 

When the two of you reached Din again, you wiggled your arm away from Mayfeld and you grabbed onto Din’s arm, not caring who saw at this point. Your heart was racing and you had a bad, bad feeling about this all. 

“I can’t go in there.” Mayfeld stated, a tremor in his voice. 

“Why not?” Din asked sharply, and you tightened your grip on his arm. He allowed you to cling to his arm and he kept his gaze fixed entirely on Mayfeld. 

“That’s Valin Hess.” Mayfeld answered and you scooter a bit closer to Din. 

He yanked his arm from your grip and you almost protested, but in an act of (maybe thirty minutes worth) touch deprivation, he wrapped the same arm around your waist and he pulled you against his side, the cool metal of the stormtrooper armor pressing coldly against you. 

“Who?” He asked, and tightened his arm around you. 

“Valin Hess. I used to serve under him.” Mayfeld practically wheezed, and you could hear the panic in his voice. You felt bad for Mayfeld, with his face turning a ghostly white and the anxiety in his tone. You reached out to rub his shoulder once reassuringly and then sunk back into Mando, looking down at your feet. 

“Will he recognize you?” Din asked, moving closer to Mayfeld. 

“I don’t know. I was just a field operative, but I’m not taking the chance. It’s over.” Mayfeld whispered and you shook your head quickly, looking up at him. 

“No no no, you have t-“ you protested, but Din promptly cut you off. 

Mayfeld moved to leave, but Din grabbed his arm, “Let’s just do this quick and we can get out of here.” He said sternly and you frowned, looking up at Mayfeld with a panicked expression. He couldn’t back out. He couldn’t. If he did, you would never see your little green baby ever again, and that brought hot, stinging tears to your eyes. 

“I can’t do it, okay? We have to abort. I’m sorry.” Mayfeld snapped and he tried to walk away again. 

As he did last time, Din caught his arm and tugged him back, “No, I cant. If we don’t get those coordinates, then me and her,” he said, and motioned towards you with the chin of the helmet he wore, “... will lose the kid forever. Give me the data stick.” Din said and Mayfeld looked a bit perplexed. 

“It’s not gonna work.” He protested and fell silent for a second. 

You looked up at Din and then back at Mayfeld and you could see the frown etching itself onto Mayfeld’s face, “In order to access the network, the terminal has to scan your face. And unless you’re gonna send her in there-'' he said and motioned towards you. 

Din shook his head and held you tighter, and Mayfeld simply nodded, “I figured. Let’s go.” He snapped. 

“Give it to me.” Din said again, sharper this time. Mayfeld held it out and Din snatched it from his hand and he tugged you forward a bit before letting his arm fall from your waist. He nodded for you to follow him and you shook your head, feeling nothing but terror as you looked at Valin Hess inside the mess hall. Din sighed as he watched you stand next to Mayfeld and he tipped his head to the side a bit, and something told you he was pleading to you with his eyes. 

You reluctantly nodded and followed in behind him, standing casually a couple tables away while he parked himself in front of the terminal. You felt Valin’s dark stare on yourself and then watched it move to Din and it stayed there while he attempted to use the terminal. Everything seemed to be going smoothly until the terminal chirped out that there was a problem and there was an incomplete facial scan. 

Everything then moved in slow motion as you watched Din grab the helmet he wore, and he lifted it over his head, revealing the hair that you’d felt before, but had never seen. A gasp got stuck in your throat. Of course it would be brown. Of course Din Djarin would have the prettiest brown curls that you’d ever laid your eyes on, and you wanted nothing more in that moment then to go to him and run your fingers through the soft, pretty curls that fell to the nape of his neck. 

The computer quit its’ bitching and you watched him put the data stick in the terminal. You wanted desperately for him to turn around, and you could tell by his body language that he was absolutely terrified. He had worn that helmet his entire life to hide his face from the world, and now his face was out in the open for everyone, including his girlfriend to see. You couldn’t imagine what that felt like. 

“Trooper!” 

A deep voice pulled you from your reverie, and you looked over at it’s source. Valin Hess. 

He rose from his seat and walked towards Din, and you felt bile rise in your throat as you moved just a step forward to be closer to him. 

“Hey, trooper.” Valin snapped once again, and Din quickly pulled the data stick from the terminal before he turned towards Hess.

“Pay attention when a superior addresses you.” Valin drawled and you went another step closer, biting your lip as he spoke again, “What’s your designation?” He asked, and his voice gave you shivers as you watched Din’s body language show exactly what you’d expected: terror. 

“Transport crew.” He nearly whispered, and your heart broke as you heard his voice crack on the last syllable. 

There was only a second of silence before Hess spoke again, “What?” He asked, turning his body ever so slightly. 

“My designation is transport copilot.” Din answered again, and you prayed that this was the answer Valin Hess was looking for.

From where you stood, you could see only a side profile of your Mandalorian. A strong nose, high cheekbones, a bit of a mustache, and a light coating of facial hair. Nothing you didn’t already know he had, because you’d felt it many times without the lights on or with your eyes covered, but this was the first time you had a real picture to put with the features your gentle fingertips would trace whenever he let you do so. 

“No son,” Valin said, a bit annoyed now, “What’s your TK number?” He asked and you turned your head towards Mayfeld. 

You caught his eye and sent him a pleading look, begging for him to come in and help out. Your lip wobbled and Mayfeld sighed before moving in towards you. 

“My TK number is...” Din began, but before he could continue, Mayfeld had already grabbed your arm and walked the both of you over towards Valin and Din.

“This is my Commanding Officer, TK five nine three, sir.” Mayfeld interjected and dropped your arm, leaving you to subtly scoot yourself towards Din. 

That is exactly what you did. You scurried to his side and it took all of your will not to latch onto his arm as you so often did when you wanted to be close to him. 

“I’m imperial combat assault transport, Lieutenant TK one-eleven, sir.” Mayfeld finished and you glanced up at Din. 

He stole a glance down at you as well, and you felt your eyes water just a bit. He was truly the most beautiful man you had ever laid your eyes on, with his full bottom lip and the sharp curve of his jawline with the thin stubble that grew over his skin, but what really made your heart melt, was his eyes. His big, pretty, entrancing brown eyes, framed with his full eyebrows and a set of short, dark lashes. You wanted so badly to touch his face, and you could see the nervousness in his expression as he stared at you. 

“And this is his... human hearing aid of sorts,” he said and pointed towards you, “I’m afraid you’ll have to speak up to him a little bit, since his vessel lost pressure in Taanab.” Mayfeld explained.

Valin gave a slight nod before leaning in towards Din, and you put a gentle, reassuring hand on Din’s shoulder, “What’s your name officer?” Valin asked loudly, and borderline condescendingly. 

Din was silent and looked around and Hess raised his eyebrows as if to reiterate his question before Mayfeld stepped in again.

“We just call him Brown Eyes. Isn’t that right, Officer?” Mayfeld asked, and Din gave a nod. 

“And her?” Valin asked again, pointing at you, his eyes traveling up and down your body, and you felt like hiding behind Din. 

You had to think quickly, so you thought quickly of your favorite flower and you looked up at Valin with a small smile that probably looked more like a grimace, “I just go by Lavender, sir. Apparently a head injury left me without a memory of my name.” You said, laughing casually. 

 Valin tore his gaze away from you after a skeevy smirk in your direction and Mayfeld spoke up again, “Come on, you two. Let’s go fill out those TPS reports, so we can go recharge the power coils.” Mayfeld said and put a hand on Din’s back while Din put a hand on yours and the three of you began to walk away. 

“You’re not dismissed.” Hess drawled and the three of you froze. You looked up at Din fearfully and he glanced down at you with the same amount of fear in his eyes, but for different reasons. You were afraid of the Imperial General speaking to you, and he was afraid of the world that could now see him without a helmet. 

When the two men turned around, Din smoothly swept you behind his back protectively and you couldn’t help but stare up at his hair again. 

“You the tank troopers that delivered the shipment of rhydonium?” Valin asked and you took a step closer to Din, even if it was just his back. 

Both of the boys answered with a simple ‘yes, sir’ and you bit down on your lip, hanging your head as you stood behind Din. Valin Hess turned around to look at the two of them and spoke, “Well you two managed to be the only transport today to deliver their shipment,” he then glanced at you, “Why’s she hiding?” He asked and bent his head to the side to peer around Din’s shoulder, “Why are you hiding, little girl?”

“She’s not big on people, Sir.” Mayfeld interjected and Valin chuckled. 

He clapped both Mayfeld and Din on the shoulder, “Come with me, hm? Let’s get a drink, Brown Eyes.” He said patronizingly and you finally gave into the need to clutch Din’s arm. He looked down at you, along with Mayfeld and Mayfeld sent a look to Din, saying something like ‘bad idea to bring her’, and Din just nodded knowingly. 

The three of you all went to a table and you took the seat closest to Din, clandestinely placing your hand against his thigh, and he laid his down on top of yours reassuringly. You glanced up at him and bit your lip, and he gave you a very small nod. Valin was out of the room getting a bottle of whatever he decided on, and you took this time to lean your forehead against the side of Din’s face. 

“I love you, you know. I’m very, very proud of you.” You whispered and turned your hand over so that you could lace your fingers with his. He nodded and laid his forehead against yours for a second while you looked into his deep, brown eyes. You smiled softly and pecked his lips a few times, “You do have beautiful eyes you know, Din Djarin.” You whispered so quietly that you were practically mouthing it. 

He rolled his eyes and you could feel his hand trembling in yours, “I find yours much prettier.” He whispered back and you bumped your nose against his before pulling away so that you two weren’t touching when Hess came back. 

He finally did come back and sat down at the table, setting down three glasses and he nodded at you, “Figured she was a little young for a drink.” He chuckled and reached out to tap your chin a few times. You felt Din’s hand tighten around yours in anger, reacting to the way Valin had just touched you. He opened the bottle up and grinned a bit, “What shall we toast to, boys? I can blather on about “to health” or “to success” but,” he seemed to be amused by himself as he paused dramatically to pour a drink for Din and Mayfeld, “.. I’d like to do something a little less rote.” He finished and closed the bottle, pointing at Din with it, “Where you from, Brown Eyes?” He asked and you felt Din stiffen. 

He opened his mouth to speak when Mayfeld, once again, interjected, saving the day, “How about a toast to Operation Cinder?” Mayfeld asked and you leaned your head down a bit. 

You closed your eyes and held onto Din’s hand tightly while Mayfeld went on to speak back and forth to Valin, but at this point, their voices were muffled and far away as you tried to calm down and think of a way out of this situation. You tapped the side of your Mandalorian’s hand and he tapped yours in return, the both of you growing tenser and tenser while Mayfeld’s tone grew more intense and Valin got more defensive. You sucked in a staggering breath and Din squeezed your hand tightly to remind you not to make any noise. You scooted closer to him and he placed your intertwined hands on your thigh. 

“...but what they really want.. is order. And when they realize that, they’re gonna welcome us back with open arms.” Valin spoke and picked up his glass. You watched Mayfeld’s hand twitch towards his blaster and you squeezed Din’s in a warning. Valin raised his glass and smiled wickedly, “To the Empire.” He toasted and you squeezed your eyes shut. 

Mayfeld whipped out his blaster and shot Valin dead, and you let out a yelp, practically throwing yourself onto Din’s lap. The two men looked at each other and then at a trooper behind them before Mayfeld also shot them as well. He shot the other remaining officers in the room and Din sprang to his feet. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you up as well, yanking you back so that you were behind him as he shot at an officer. 

Mayfeld grabbed the helmet Din once wore and passed it to him, “You did what you had to do. I never saw your face.” He said and Din gratefully took the helmet before turning to you. You looked up at him with soft eyes and leaned up to kiss the tip of his nose before you pulled away, trying to memorize his face before he turned away and slipped the helmet back on.  

You felt your heart sink as you realized that was probably the only time he’d have the helmet off in front of you, and then the shooting began. You were backed up against the wall by Din and he nodded at Mayfeld who jumped up onto a window ledge and yanked you up with him. You watched while Din jumped up as well and Mayfeld kicked out a panel on the window before he slipped underneath it. 

“Take her!” Din yelled at Mayfeld, and Mayfeld reached in and grabbed you, and you shrieked when you saw the drop below. You looked at him for a moment and he nodded before Din made his way out onto the ledge and Din pointed at a ladder. 

“Y/n. Go. Climb that now and Boba will come and get you when you’re on top. Now!” Din commanded and while he and Mayfeld shot troopers, you ran along the ledge to the ladder. You climbed it to the top of the building and watched Boba circle down in his ship to get you. The door opened and you climbed inside, running up the ramp and into the ship. You climbed your way up into the cockpit as he moved the ship to avoid getting shot at and the two of you made eye contact. 

Boba smiled at you and he pointed up at your face, “Your cheeks are flushed like you’ve just been kissed for the first time.” He teased and you blushed, “Yeah, there was a first in there. But it wasn’t me getting kissed.” You mumbled and gave Boba a look. He analyzed your face for a second and then he nodded. Perhaps he knew, perhaps he didn’t. But if he did, he didn’t say anything, and if he didn’t, he didn’t ask. 

Boba circled the ship back to the rooftop and he hovered with the door open just a few feet away from the edge of the roof. You patted Boba’s arm once before climbing back down to the entrance where Din and Mayfeld had just jumped in. As they flew away, Mayfeld nudged Din, “Hand me that cycler rifle.” He commanded. 

Din passed him the rifle and then glanced over his shoulder at you. You jumped back a bit at the sound of an explosion and you looked down to see that Mayfeld had shot up the tanks of rhydonium, causing the entire base to blow. Him and Din watched it blow for a moment before Mayfeld walked back inside the ship, with a simple: “We all need to sleep at night.” Before he walked off. 

Din looked down at you as Mayfeld went to find a place to sit and he took your hand, “Come with me to put my armor back on.” He whispered and you nodded as he gathered the bag of his armor up and guided you to the small sleeping space that was on the far end of the ship. He closed the door behind you two and then turned to you in the cramped space and he took the helmet off again. Gently, he grabbed your chin between his pointer finger and thumb, his eyes meeting yours. 

“I love you, y/n y/l/n.” Din breathed before leaning down to connect your lips. He kissed you softer than he ever had before, and you attributed it to the timidness that came with the vulnerability of a visible face, but you didn’t mind, kissing him back with the same careful gentility. After a moment, he pulled away and you smiled up at him. 

“Hey, I love you too, Brown Eyes.” You teased and winked up at him. 

That earned you another, much more passionate kiss.

[dameronology]

dance with somebody {din djarin x reader}

summary: din djarin doesn’t dance - but for you, he’ll try

warnings: swearing 

this is just short, domestic fluff because it’s late and i’m tired and i want a hug from din djarin. enjoy!!

- jazz

Din Djarin knew when you got an idea in your head.

You got this...look. Or maybe it wasn’t so much a look, as it was a smirk. Lips tilted upwards, head slightly angled with a look of adoration in your eyes -- at him, at the kid, at the little life you’d managed to find on the Crest amongst the chaos of everything else.

Tonight was slow; just you, him and Grogu. The latter was passed out in his crib, the pod shut as he snored quietly. It would have been cute if the tiny womprat hadn’t been keeping you awake for four days straight. Every time you’d fallen asleep, he’d open his mouth and serenade you with the harmonious sounds of his cries, clearly offended that you were doing something other than giving him attention. You understood that. There had been times when you had felt like screaming to the heavens in an attempt to vie for the Mandalorian’s affections. Tonight, luckily, wasn’t one of those times.

You were both sat on the floor of the Crest; Din was leant against the wall with you perched beside him, legs strewn over his. He had one hand resting on your thigh and the other holding a book open -- that had been a surprise to see. He didn’t seem like the type to own books. Or even know what a book was. Aside from the time he’d spent forty minutes digging out the Crest’s manual, you’d never seen him with one in his life. Now, however, he’d opted to try and read a murder mystery that you’d brought months ago. It was funny, because half of the gory stuff in the story was like probably just a Wednesday for him.

He could feel you staring at him, a hazy smile on your face. It was rare you got to see him without the helmet on for such a long time, and even when you did, you still liked to gaze at him with heart eyes. How could you not? You’d fallen in love with him for who he was, but you couldn’t deny that he was fucking pretty. That one had worked out in your favour.

Din slowly turned his head to face you, and that’s when he saw the look. The I have an idea and I’m not forgetting about it ever look. It was the same one you’d had when you suggested keeping Grogu, and...in pretty much every situation that Din had tried to initially refute, only to bend to your will and end up later regretting it. Not so much regretting agreeing to do things for you or with you, but more regretting his inability to deny you of anything, ever. He had only one weakness and it was you.

‘What now?’

You thinned your eyes at him. ‘Hmm?’

‘I know that look.’ He gave your leg a squeeze, putting the book down. ‘Just cut to the chase and tell me.’

‘D’you know how to dance?’

He did a double take. ‘Dance?’

‘Yeah. Like when you move to music-’

‘- I know what it is.’ Din cut you off, trying to fight back a slight smile. ‘Not my thing.’

‘It’s not my thing either.’ You replied.

‘Good.’ Another squeeze to the leg. 

He knew you weren’t going to let it go. Din was wiser than that, so why he went back to reading his book was beyond him, because you clearly weren’t finished with whatever plan your brain was formulating. He tried not to think too much of it when you stood up, making your way across the room to a decades-old speaker that was built into the wall. It had come with the ship, but Din only ever used it to play white noise for your Foster Gremlin when the ship was noisy. 

He glanced over at you, bent down in front of the radio as you fiddled with the tuning on the side. A moment later, a crackly sound came out - it was gentle and soft, like the sort of music they played in expensive restaurants and fancy hotels. As you could probably imagine, neither of those were things he had much experience with. The cantinas that you both frequented played more upbeat and catchy tunes. 

‘Stand up.’ You moved to stand in front of him, sticking your hand out.

‘I’m reading.’

‘Din.’ You pouted. ‘Please?’

He grumbled, tossing the book aside and lacing his fingers in yours. Your attempts to pull him up were a little haphazard, especially when you almost toppled over as he stood up, but he easily caught you, one hand on your waist and one on your arm. You stayed like that for a moment, before you wrapped your arms around his sides, trying to drag him to the center of the hull.

‘What are you doing?’ 

‘You need to just...move side to side.’ You tried to demonstrate the movements, but it only earned a chortle from the bounty hunter. Perhaps it was for the best that you hadn’t pursued being a dance teacher as a career route.

‘I’m not dancing.’

‘This isn’t dancing!’ You insisted. ‘It’s just swaying to some music.’

‘That is dancing, cyar’ika.’ He peered down at you, brown eyes barely wavering as you scowled. 

‘Okay, maybe it is.’ You grumbled. ‘But just try, please?’

‘Fine.’ He bit his lip, before pulling you closer. ‘But only for you.’

That was the driving force behind most of what he did: you. Whether it was hunting down dangerous bounties to make the galaxy safer for you and the kid, or putting money aside for whatever future you had, he always had you in mind. Din had no idea where your lives were going, or even where you would end up -- he knew only that it would be together. He didn’t care if it stayed this way forever, just you and him on the Crest, or if you were destined to settle down in the suburbs of a far away planet. He had everything he needed, and anything else was just a bonus. 

You grinned, wrapping your arms around his neck with a soft kiss to the jaw. He followed your lead, letting you move him about the small space. There was no technique to it -- it was just a little bit of swaying, and a little bit of dragging him side to side. It was easy to get lost in his presence, especially when he had all his usual barriers down. There was no armour, no helmet. Right now, he wasn’t the Mandalorian. He was Din Djarin, and he was holding onto you tightly. He smelt faintly of blaster fire and caff (typical) and his breath was soft against your neck, all things that were worlds away from the scary persona that he usually put on. 

At some point, Din felt himself getting just as lost in you, pulling you closer as you gently moved about and tightening his grip on you. He buried his head in your shoulder, letting out a small sigh of content. It was something he did every so often, usually when you were drifting off to sleep or lazily laying together in the morning. Most the time, he didn’t even realise he was doing it, and you never pointed it out. That didn’t mean that it didn’t make your heart scream, but it was something you kept to yourself. You knew how much it took for him to show vulnerability, even to you. To everyone else, the only emotions he had were confused helmet tilt and sigh.  

‘Maybe this isn’t so bad.’ Din murmured, voice slightly muffled by your shoulder. 

You chuckled slightly. ‘Yeah?’

He raised his head to give you a soft smile. ‘Yeah.’

‘I love you.’ You softly smiled. 

‘I love you too.’ Din leant down to brush his lips against yours, hands gripping your waist as he held you there for a second. 

‘Is that the only reason you agreed to do this?’ You teased.

‘It’s the only reason I ever agree to do anything.’ 

tags: @mudhornchronicles​ @engineeredfiction​

[skellebonez]

Because I'm sure this is going to be inevitable, how about some angst for the Chaos Trio (Mei, Jin and Yin)? With 61 and 52

Oh I have been looking forward to Chaos Trio angst since you sent me this, anon. Despite how they act in show... I think Jin and Yin are not exactly harmless. Especially if you mess with people they start to consider family.

The Cursed AU and the Chaos Trio in it come from @winterpower98!

Warning: blood and head injuries, enemy demons limbs (not detailed).

That is not a good hiding spot./I am a really bad actor.

Things had been going pretty well, all things considered. Jin and Yin had no problem getting Mei to join them in a little bit of... let's say "competitive insurance" as it were. They had to make sure they were secured in their own little tech related ventures, and after some financial setbacks they needed extra fallback. They’d planned the whole thing out with her help, more than 2 steps and everything! She was good at that.

The problem was that someone got a lucky hit.

They would have made it out with no problems, if they all hadn't decided going on Mei's motorcycle as a group (which, now that Yin thought about it, was probably incredibly dangerous and illegal with 3 of them on it... not that they cared about legality for themselves but somehow when it came to Mei that suddenly made them concerned). But nope. 1 bike. 3 people.

One lucky shot to the rear tire.

The three of them went flying, Mei landing very impressively on her feet whole Jin and Yin bounced on a bush and thanked anyone listening that demons were sturdier than humans. They didn't thank anyone for the pieces of bike that came flying at them all, and they were certain that they heard a piece make contact with something hard, maybe the nearby light pole, but couldn't be sure.

By the time they looked up they just knew they had a group of very angry demons that were pissed they stole and then wiped their code for... something, didn't matter to the twins what it was. They just wanted their competition out of the way. For solely selfish reasons. Nothing else. Not like they wanted it to see what it was and maybe figure out a counter attack so that certain overpowered people with monkey motifs would have an easier time in the future.

Not a chance.

As they fought off the attacking demons they insisted to themselves they didn't care that much.

"That is not a good hiding spot!" Jin yelled across the battlefield as Yin ducked behind crates. "Just chuck it for now and beat em with the blunt end of something else!"

"Just give me 2 seconds, I can fix it!" Yin yelled back, trying his best to reassemble a part of his sword hilt that had broken off.

"Come on, these guys ain't so tough!" Mei laughed out, easily dodging projectiles and backsliding and slicing and dicing as she went. No one was actually killed, but they were lucky because the only reason for that was the young woman wasn't exactly out for blood. They'd be feeling every single hit well into morning though! She was doing much better than the two of them. "Grab a pipe or something! Wish I had MK's magic building power though, I'd rather not be here all-YIN!"

The younger twin looked up from where he had been crouched, eyes widening as he saw the form of a much larger demon hulking over him and ready to batter him with a club.

Things had been going well. All things considered. Then someone got a second lucky hit.

Right as Mei dove in to push the younger silver twin out of the way.

For a second the fighting stopped. There was just the sound of wood hitting hard plastic and fiberglass as the club was sliced in half by her sword and the lopped off half continued it's trajectory and slammed into Mei's head to lead to her crumbling on top of Yin. Jin stood on too of a pile of crates, watching as a line of red seeped through a crack in her visor and stained the white of her suit.

And then his entire vision was red as he lunged at the demon and sliced, sending his arm flying in the opposite direction.

The demon screamed, holding the stump that was his arm from the elbow down, backing away as quickly as he could. "W-what the hell!?"

"Mei," Yin said softly, carefully clicking the emergency release button to make her helmet digitize away. Her eyes were closed, blood dripping from a slice running along her scalp... but as far as he could tell it was from part of the helmet being cracked and cutting her. She was most likely knocked out from the impact, breathing odd but steady in her unconscious state. "You... we're going to get you to the hospital."

His tone hardened as he carefully laid her on the ground, standing tall as he grabbed his broken weapon and a nearby piece of broken steel.

"You. Are going. To pay for that," Yin said coldly, stance no longer lose and half playful as it had been the whole battle. His stood tall, eyes wide and cold and the demons surrounding them felt a chill run down their spines.

Jin stood in front of him, blood from the other demon splattered across his face and chest in a stark contrast to his orange visage.

This... this wasn't the pair of Gold and Silver Demons they had heard about before. They were known for not taking almost anything seriously, making bad deals and pacts and weird blood oaths they wasted on bizarre favors. They were known for being good at tach but not much else, most demons in the area knew vaguely of their history with the Monkey King but even that ended in failure. Their plans were half baked, goofy, and lately they'd heard they'd gotten roped in with the Monkey King's successor and renewed flame of the Six-Eared Macaque.

The two standing before them did not look like the demons they'd heard about.

Mei hadn't wanted to seriously hurt anyone. The demons heard her yelling as much on the battlefield. But now Mei was hurt.

And the twins did.

It happened fast. They wanted to get it over with quickly. Mei had also not wanted to kill anyone at the very least the twins could do was keep up their promise from earlier in the day to avoid that. And they did.

That didn't mean there weren't lost limbs. Hands and arms. A leg or two. More than a couple eyes were lost. Someone lost an ear. Another a tail and horn.

Injuries they could recover from meant as warnings.

All it took was 3 minutes and the entire storage area they crashed in was a mix of grey and brown and red. Demons holding their injuries or running off.

The one who had attacked Yin and hurt Mei stood in awe and fear, looking down at the smaller twins who has decimated an entire group so fast.

"I-how!?" He yelled, backing up slowly. "This isn't possible, you're not this strong!"

"Who told you that?" Yin asked slowly, tilting his head and watching as the demon realized... he'd never heard they couldn't fight. "We don't fight like this because we don't want to. Never meant we can't."

"Why?"

"We are really bad actors," Jin said, wiping the blood off his weapon on an unconscious demon's shirt. "Why bother trying to hold back when we can just hide it by not trying?" He turned to the demon, glowering coldly as he watched his brother pick Mei up carefully. "Tell anyone who asks nothing. We'd like to keep it that way. Unless you want a round two where someone else doesn't hold us back."

And then they were gone.

~

"What in the actual hell happened?" Macaque asked in an even tone. Practiced even. A dangerous even.

"Well-" "You see boss-" "we kinda-" "-there was-"

Jin and Yin tried to think of a reasonable excuse, faltering as everything they thought of sounded worse and worse in their heads.

The two sat in Mei's hospital room, towels draped around their shoulders. They’d been smart enough to stash Mei's bike somewhere safe and wash off in the ocean before coming to the hospital, less covered in demon blood meant less scared humans when they rushed in with Mei in tow, and it was easy to make the nurses believe them.

Simple bike accident, friend hurt, help please.

With Macaque staring them down with his patented death glower, shadows growing and warping around the room in response to him, it was infinitely harder.

Of course Mei's emergency contact was MK. Of course MK could call Macaque before her parents (who were apparently on their way back from some kind of dragon family business trip when they learned). Of course Macaque would show up almost immediately and begin asking questions.

"It was my fault," Mei chimed in, voice slightly off from having awoken with a nasty concussion. "I thought it'd be fun to go on a joy ride late at night, I've done it before without issues! But, uh... I've never had two passengers before... and we hit something. Don't be mad at them?"

Macaque looked like he believed Mei as much as he believed Tang would lose interest in the Monkey King and switch his field of study to obscure methods of basket weaving. Which is to say: he didn’t. But he sighed, giving Mei a small smile as the shadows returned to normal.

"Ok," he said softly, tone much more gentle with the dragon descendant as he reached out to brush loose hair out of her face. "I won't be mad at them. I'll be very disappointed-" his tone hardened for a second at those words as he turned to the twins with a glower again. "-but I won't be mad. Do you need anything?"

"Maybe a candy bar from the vending machines outside?" Mei asked with a smile.

"Sure," Macaque laughed and shook his head, moving to the corner of the room. "I'll be right back."

He sunk into the shadows, a cool trick that the twins would always be impressed by, and they breathed a sigh of relief at knowing they were alone. For now.

"You didn't have to do that," Jin said, frowning at Mei in concern. Maybe it was just because he was now the eldest in the room, but some kind of protective feel pulled at him.

"I know," Mei said with a tired laugh, laying back into her pillow. "But you guys are like... my bros. I gotta stand up for my bros."

And that made both Jin and Yin pause. They looked at each other, eyes widening as they both came to a realization that was probably a very long time coming at that point.

"Yeah..." Yin said, a soft smile forming on his face. "We'd do the same for you... you know, if you didn't take that hit for me you probably would have kicked everyone's ass way better than us! We barely got out by the skin of our teeth!" A full truth and a blatant lie, but he hoped Mei wouldn't pick up on that second part.

"You know it, boi!" She didn't.

It was odd for him in particular. Yin had never really thought of himself as an older brother before.

First time for everything.

[forever-rogue]

Congrats on the milestone love! Can I request Din Djarin with prompt 12 from list 1 please 😊 I love your work so I had to request❤

Prompt 12: "Before I do this, I want you to know I have always loved you."

Din Djarin x Fem!Reader ; warnings: mentions of injury, death

The Mandalorian Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Din? Din! What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

Din sat up bolt right, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to catch his breath. His bleary eyes darted around the small hull of the Razor Crest as he grounded himself and realized where he was. Reaching up, he wiped at his sweaty brow, sighing deeply when he realized he was alone. Letting out a few shallow breaths, he walked around the small space, reminding himself that you were gone and he was utterly alone. 

But Maker - the dream had felt so real. It was just like you had been next to him, laughing in his ear with that wicked grin on your face as you tapped at his helmet. It was just like yesterday, even though you hadn’t been around in some time anymore. 

“Din? Don’t frown so much, you’re going to get wrinkles!” 

He glanced at the holo-clock and thanked his lucky stars that it was an appropriate time to get up and start his day. There was no way he could go back to sleep now; even if he did, it would be plagued with nightmares. 

Not that they were nightmares per se, but they served as constant reminders of you. That you were once a tangible, warm, living, breathing thing. You weren’t just mere memories of a person that never existed - no, you were everything he had ever loved and wanted. And he’d realized that too late. He’d never even gotten the chance to tell you he loved you. All because he was too stubborn, too foolish, too scared, too - 

But it didn’t matter now. None of it mattered anymore because he would never get the chance to tell you anymore.

Din frowned at himself as his reflection once he entered the small ‘fresher, quickly glancing over his mussed locks and tired eyes. He hadn’t slept well last night; he hadn’t slept in many nights, so this was no exception. He turned on the tap and splashed some water over face and slicked back his hair before deciding not to shave and settling on just brushing his teeth before getting dressed. 

“What do you look like, Din? I bet you’ve got dark hair and brown eyes. I know they all think you’re this scary bounty hunter, but I know the real you. You’re soft - soft hair, soft brown eyes, and a soft heart.” 

He gritted his teeth as he tried to push that particular memory out of his mind. You’d crawled into his bed, shivering and freezing because the heating had gone out. Din had welcomed you in, wrapping himself around you as you buried yourself into his chest, promising him that you wouldn’t sneak a peek. But as you had drifted off to sleep, you’d mumbled aimlessly at him as he just held you. It was one of his favorite memories.

He should have told you then. It would have been so easy, so simple….but he didn’t. 

The Mandalorian pulled on his clothes before reaching for his armor and strapping it on piece by piece. He touched for his left pauldron, remembering all the times you had helped him do this, how you’d insisted that he should get something new or at least repainted. One day, he’d always promised with a laugh.

But that day had never come; and perhaps it never would. What was the point?

He gave himself one last look over before frowning at his reflection and slipping on the helmet. It was like once it was on, he was no longer Din, but Mando. He had never felt more human, more alive, then when you’d call him DIn.

“Din? Din Djarin? I love that - it’s perfect.”

The way your eyes had lit up the first time he’d told you his name, the smile that graced your features, had told him that he had made the right decision. It wasn’t just a name, it was trust and respect - everything. And now no one would ever know it again; it would go to the grave with him.

Stepping over to his weapons cache, he shuffled through and tried to pick the right tool for the day’s work. It wasn’t much today; he was just meeting Greef Karga to turn in some quarries and get something new to work on. It wasn’t anything exciting, busy work more than anything, but it kept him going. The longer his mind was occupied, the less time he had for the memories to seep to the forefront. He was already plagued at night - he didn’t need to be during the day on top of it. 

He slung the pulse rifle over his shoulder before deciding it was good enough. Lowering the ramp, he walked towards the center of Nevarro, keeping his gaze trained straight ahead as the crowds parted for him. No one dared to stand in his path, to mess with the notorious Mandalorian.

"Where do you think we should go? We deserve a rest, don't you think? We could anywhere in the galaxy - maybe somewhere with lots of green!"

That rest and relaxation had never come. Not for you and definitely not for him. He hadn't slowed down enough to do more than breath since you'd been gone. Din just couldn't do it; nothing felt right. 

He nodded in acknowledgment at a few people that called his name. The rest of his Covert of Mandalorians was here; but he wasn't even sure if he wanted to face any of them. It had been so long since he'd made a point to see them. He just...the idea of going back and facing their questions was overwhelming in every sense of the word. 

No, instead he headed straight for the cantina to get some new assignments and take off again. He'd already been lingering about for longer than he preferred. He wanted to be busy, busy, busy. 

Just before he could enter the dirty, old cantina, he stopped dead in his tracks when he heard it. It was a laugh he hadn't heard in so long and it made his heart ache as he turned to find the source of the sound. 

That was your laugh, it had to be. There was no one else that could have sounded exactly like that.

"Din? Come on - find me!"

"Mesh'la?" he turned on his heel and he looked round for you. Nothing seemed out of place or out of turn, but it had to be you. The crowd seemed nonplussed as he looked around and tried to find you, nothing to just that you had ever been there.

"Mesh'la?" it was a small, almost pathetic whisper he pushed himself through the crowds, scanning through the crowds.

Just before he rounded a corner, he saw it - a flash of your favorite blue dress and your hair, done in your typical fashion. But as soon as he blinked and tried to chase after you, you were nowhere in sight. It was like you'd never been there at all. And maybe you hadn't...but surely… it had to have been you. 

His heart was beating wildly, slamming against his ribcage as he turned around in a panic. He had to find, to see - if there was even the slightest chance that you were there, he needed to see you.

"Mando!" the gruff voice cut through his panicked inner monologue as Din found Greef Karga slowly making his way over to him. He huffed slightly as he turned to the manz practically feeling you slipping through his fingers...again, "come on! I thought we were meeting inside."

"Yes," Din huffed in annoyance as he trailed after him, following him into the loud, crowded cantina.

"I'll always be here, Din. I'm never far from you."

"I'll cut to the chase," Greef said after paying Din for the current quarries and making arrangements to get them from the Crest, "I have a big job and I think you're the man for it. Everyone else has failed, but I know you won't. It's dangerous- but you are more than capable."

"I can handle this one on my own, Din. It's not that dangerous and it'll be an easy in and out job."

"What is it?" Din closed his eyes as he let out a quiet, ragged breath and tried not to think about the last time a dangerous assignment had been handed over. You had been so eager to take it, claiming it would be no big deal. Even after his insistence that you should go together, you'd sneaked out and gone on your own. 

What he wouldn't give to go back to that day and stop you.

"I have a very...special client and he requires an asset," he explained as Din leaned forward to hear what he had to say, "many have gone after it, but none have been successful. He needs it brought back alive and soon."

"Alive?" Din's eyebrows raised as he tilted his head to the side, "and no one's been able to catch it?"

"Correct," Greef nodded as he placed a puck on the table and Din studied it closely, "the risk is great but the reward is far greater. Take some time and think about it. I know things have been different since-"

"I'll do it," he agreed sharply, cutting the man off before he could get the words out. He didn't want to hear it - he couldn't hear. Hearing those words would make what happened a reality and he wasn't ready to have it be so biting and harsh, "tell me where to go and who to meet and consider it done."

"Mando, are you sure…"

"Yes," his answer was harsh and laced with venom as he waited for Greef Karga to go on.

»»————-　♡　————-««

When Din left the cantina again, he sighed heavily before taking a moment to collect himself as he stared at the sky.

"Don't be afraid, Din. I'm always with you. We can do anything together."

"Kriff," his hands went to his hips as he tried to figure out his next move. He wasn't even concerned with the risks; his job was inherently dangerous and he'd been injured before. Many times to your chagrin; he was always amused, watching you in reverence as you patched him up and chastised him for his recklessness. 

But it didn't matter. Nothing really did. Without you at his side, nothing really mattered. You weren't just his partner, or his companion. No, you had always been much more than that, making a place in his heart from the start. It had been easy for him to fall for you, effortless and gentle, even if he hadn't realized what was happening at the time. And then...he'd ended up as a lonely fool that never confessed his true feelings for you.

And then….it had been you that had done it. That had said those words, made that confession.  

But by the time you said it...it didn't matter. It didn't make a difference. Din's chest constricted and he felt like his throat was closing up. He leaned against the stone wall, trying to calm himself and stop the onset of sheer panic.

He closed his eyes, wishing the terror would stop gripping and pulling him under. But it was too late and it took everything in his power not to completely lose himself.

"Why did you do this?!" Din's voice cracked as he slumped onto the floor next to you, pulling your trembling body onto his lap as he looked over your wounds. His heart fell into his stomach as he pushed your shirt up to try and better assess your injuries, "i-i-its okay, Mesh'la, I'll take care of you. It's okay."

"I knew it was dangerous," you admitted  softly as you felt him try and stop the bleeding on your side, "I couldn't let you get hurt. I...I couldn't live with myself knowing something happened to you."

"You should have waited for me," he felt helpless as you wrapped your arms around his waist and looked up at him so sweetly. As much as he tried to suppress the bleeding in your side and chest, he knew it was becoming hopeless. He didn't want to admit it, "if we would have gone together, t-this wouldn't have happened…"

"Or both of us would have gotten hurt," you whispered as you reached up and put your palm on his helmet, where his cheek would be, "its better this way. This way,  you'll be okay. The world needs you, Din Djarin. You have so much left to do - so many wonderful things."

"I can't do them without you, please," he was begging at this point, and you could hear his ragged breathing, "please. I can't do...this."

"You can, my love," you promised him with a firm nod, "can I ask you for one thing? One last favor?"

 "Anything."

"Might I look upon your face? Even for just a moment?" you didn't want to push him, but as your breathing became harder and your head felt light, you couldn't think of anything better than to see him. But if he said no, you would accept his devotion to his creed.

"Yes," he nodded slowly as he reached up with one hand and slowly tilted the helmet up and off hastily setting it on the ground. The first thing you noticed were the tears running his cheeks which were flushed pink as he studied you, "oh Mesh'la…"

"Hi," you beamed at him, gently wiping away his tears, "oh my love, you're so handsome. I was right you know - Brown Eyes. The sweetest eyes."

"Please," he leaned down to your face and gently pressed his lips to your forehead, "don't go. We have time - I can find a Healer."

"Its too late," you whispered, well aware of the fact that your fate was sealed, "but not for you. Just keep going, Din. You'll find yourself right where you were meant to be. Thank you for everything. You have made life so much better - you have my heart always."

"There's still time-"

"I want you to know that I have always loved you," you closed your eyes as your vision became hazy and dark. You felt him press a kiss to your lips as he held you tightly and cried, "I love you, Din Djarin."

Din felt the hot tears roll down his cheeks as he relived his worst nightmare. It still hurt just as badly today as it had back then. He'd never even gotten the chance to tell you he loved you. He tried to calm his breathing as he pulled himself into the present and walked to meet this mysterious client that required this even more mysterious asset.

This would be a distraction - he need a good one right now.

Hurry, Din! Your greatest adventure awaits!

"I still miss you," he whispered to no one, "I love you always."

Come on! You're right where you're supposed to be!

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[mandoalorian]

Din Djarin NSFW Alphabet

Notes: 18+ only. AFAB reader. Reader discretion advised. As always, reblogs mean the world to me. If you want to support my writing there is a link to my Ko-Fi in my bio!

Word count: 2500 words.

Masterlist

**NSFW content under cut!**

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He’ll stay with you and hold you tight. He’ll ask you if you’re okay and if you need anything. It’s only a short walk to the refresher. He might get you a glass of water, and always, he’ll bring a wet washcloth out to wipe you down and clean you up. He can get quite intimate after sex and he’ll wrap his strong arms around your body and pull you close into the heat of his chest. He’ll whisper sweet nothings into your ear until you both inevitably fall asleep.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

You love his back. He’s broad shouldered, lean and muscular. You love gliding your hands over his skin and squeezing him. When he’s on top, you dig your fingers into his back, subconsciously scratching and clawing at him. In a way, he likes the pain. You nearly always leave a mark on him and it’s nice to come back to, day after day. In the mornings he covers himself up and goes out to complete bounties, but there is something extremely satisfying about knowing that the esteemed and intimidating Mandalorian hunter is marked by you.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Din cums a lot. Although he wasn’t a virgin when you met, he didn’t really have the luxury of getting off with others. He was always too busy, out doing bounties or travelling the galaxy with Grogu. This changed though, when he met you. Now, you’re pretty aware of how large his load is. You love it when he cums inside of you and you feel his warm seed fill you up completely. It can stay in you for the entire day. Din will fuck you in the morning and then pull your panties back up, forcing you to keep his cum inside of you until nightfall. When he takes your panties off in the evening, it’s always a pleasant surprise to see his cum still dripping out of your pretty hole.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He wants to face fuck you. You give him blowjobs on the regular but he always lets you take your time. It’s nice when you’re in control, and it makes a difference from his usual hectic day-to-day lifestyle. But he dreams of thrusting into your pretty little mouth and tracing the bulge of his fat cock in your throat. He wants you to gag around him and see a mixture of his cum and your saliva mess up your face. He knows you can take it deep, he just hasn’t found the confidence yet to talk to you about it.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Yeah, he has experience. He hasn’t had many sexual partners but he’s done it before and he knows his way around your body. He will spend a lot of time with you, practicing how to make you moan and cum in different ways. He’s probably the least experienced with giving oral but that’s okay because he’s proficient and always been a quick learner.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He likes to pin you against the wall and take you from behind. When he’s not too tired, he can go for a while, standing up and fucking you. He also likes it when he’s laying down and you're on top, riding him. You’ll notice he tilts his head up, just ever so slightly, so he can get the best view of your tits bouncing up and down as you grind over his manhood. 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He’s serious for the most part. He can crack a smile now and again, when he’s lost in the moment. Especially during sensual sex, when he’s on top and looking down on you. But you can never see it anyway since he’s face is always shielded by the beskar helmet. 

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

No, he doesn’t groom himself. He often forgets to shave his face, hence the patchy stubble he dons most of the time. Shaving foam can be quite pricey and credits are hard to come by these days, so, grooming his pubic hair is probably the last thing on his mind. And that’s okay, you don’t mind the dark brown curls down there. He’s not a naturally hairy guy, so despite him having a little pubic hair, it’s not too overbearing. You love kissing the little trail of hair from his navel down to the hem of his underpants.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He’s very romantic. It takes a lot of going backwards and forwards to develop a romantic relationship with Din, and it takes a lot for him to trust you. But when he does, he’ll be completely open with you and he’ll make it known how much he loves you and appreciates you. He does this through the whispering of sweet nothings in your ear, caressing and nibbling your skin in the most tender ways. 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Before he met you, he jacked off whenever he got the time. Just because he didn’t have sex on a regular basis, didn’t mean he was immune to sexual desire. It got pretty messy too. After he met you, you began to consume his every thought and he was completely smitten with you. Every night he’d lock himself in the refresher room of the Crest and get off to the thought of you, even getting into the habit of moaning out your name right before he spilled his seed along the shower wall.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He’s actually quite into BDSM. He wants to tie you up with rope or his binders, and blindfold you. He likes to bend you over his lap and give you a few harsh spankings, enough to leave a mark.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Most of the time, you both do it on the Crest. And it’s okay. His bed is small and the floor is hard but he doesn’t mind it either way, as long as he can be with you. He does, however, like it when he’s in the pilot seat and you sit on his lap and warm his cock. One of his favourite memories was saving up enough credits and taking you to the luscious greens of Naboo. He paid for a suite in one of the most beautiful hotels and you went at each other the entire night. The bed was so soft and warm and he let himself get tangled up in the satin sheets without a care in the world. It was unlike anything he’d ever experienced and he hopes that one day, he gets the opportunity and the credits to do something like that again.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

This one time, you were joking around. You grabbed his cape and clipped it around your neck and even fitted his beskar chest plate onto your own body. You walked around the Crest holding his pulse rifle like you owned it. You only did it out of desperation to get Din to laugh, or even just crack a smile, but seeing you in his clothes ignited something primal in him and all he wanted to do was pin you against the wall and fuck you without mercy. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He would never, ever want to hurt you. You coming into any kind of danger is one of his biggest fears and he will dedicate his whole life protecting you from uncomfort and injury. Because of this, he could never be the one to cause you said injury or uncomfort. He wants the experience to be pleasant for both of you, with no lasting effects. He likes it when you struggle to walk the day after, and he likes seeing you bruised up from love bites or the firm grip of his gloved fingers, but that’s really the extent of it.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Truthfully, you give more than you receive. Obviously, Din can’t take off his helmet. However he loves the taste of you. It just means he has to do it when there are no lights on, or he has to find you a blindfold. When he gets the chance, he absolutely loves going down on you but it just doesn’t happen all too often. Surprisingly though, Din is great at oral and he is sure to give you an experience you’ll never forget. He always has you yearning for more and he loves to tease and edge you with his tongue.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It varies! Sometimes all Din needs is a quick fuck -- and he’s a very busy man so it’s just something you have to accept. But recently, sex has been lasting a little longer. He’s been taking his time and made a habit of becoming more intimate with you. He is definitely capable of showing his compassion during these private times and you like seeing the softer, more sensual side to him a lot.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Before bounties. After bounties. Whenever he has to leave and there is a risk of harm or danger, you’ll give him a quickie so he for sure has something to remember you by. He could be gone for a few days, or weeks, so by the time he returns, you’re often both riled up and filled with sexual desire. So it’s another quickie just to satisfy that burning need. He’ll take you against the wall and rail you until your knees feel weak and you can’t stand. He’ll growl into your ear and tell you how much he’s missed you and how glad he is to feel the heat of your cunt clench around him again.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He risks his life every single day. So during his downtime, and the moments he’s in the bedroom with you, he prefers to not take too many risks. Like I mentioned earlier, he doesn’t want to endanger you in any way possible. But if there’s something in particular that you’ve been longing to try, Din will be pretty game to do it. All you have to do is vocalize it and tell him how much you want it. He will always put your safety first.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He can go for quite a while. Sex with Din, when it’s not a quickie, can average at around an hour each time. He loves to take his time with you and he wants to get as many orgasms out of you as he can. He sees it as a challenge.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Vibrators, mostly. He even has a small silver one that he likes you to use on the tip of his cock. Also you managed to pick up a butt plug from one market a few weeks ago and he’s been aching to try it on you. You haven’t tried anal yet but it’s something Din is definitely interested in. You agreed to try out the plug as a little teaser before you feel like you can take his whole cock. He’s had dreams of stuffing both your holes and watching tears prick your eyes as the sensation overwhelms you.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He likes to tease you a lot, and you like to tease him too. It’s a little game you both have going on. He adores foreplay and edging you. In the moment, when all you want to do is cum, it can be quite frustrating, but you love it nonetheless. He engages in cunningless, rubbing your bundle of nerves until your legs are shaking and you can’t take it anymore. And then he’ll pull his fingers away and watch you squirm as he deprives you of an orgasm.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s not too loud, just like in usual day to day life, Din Djarin is a man of a few words. He moans and whimpers a lot, especially when he’s close. He pants pretty heavy and he’ll definitely make sure you know how good you make him feel. Not so much with words though. When he’s going down on you or pleasuring you he talks a little more. He asks you questions like, “you like that baby?” or “you want more sweet girl?”, and gets a thrill knowing that you’re so into it, you struggle to answer.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He loves to fuck you standing up. He loves to press you against the cool metal wall of the Crest and ruthlessly hammer you from behind. He’ll pin you there, grabbing your wrists so you quite literally can’t move, and he’ll dirty talk in your ear as he rails you. He’ll go fast and hard and it won’t take long at all for you to cum around his cock.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Oh he’s big. I’d say a solid 8 inches, and thick too. It’s the girth of him that gets you the most. The feeling of him stretching you open and filling you up is possibly one of the best feelings in the world. You wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Pretty high, and it always has been. He can get hard pretty easily; and whenever he feels like he wants to go, he can go. If you’re horny and let him know that you want it, he’ll be ready to take you almost immediately. He yearns the most when you’re not there. Sometimes he’ll be out on a bounty, alone at night. He’ll be thinking of you back on the Crest, alone too. He’ll imagine you laying in his bed, masturbating, and whimpering out his name. He just can’t help himself.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He zonks out pretty fast. He’s a busy man, and if the bounty he went on earlier in the day didn’t tire him out, the sex sure will have. He will pull you into his strong arms, plant a sleepy kiss into your shoulder or the crook of your neck, and fall asleep. Din is for sure a big spoon.

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[theewritingroomm]

Happy’s Girl

Summary: Happy finally get the courage to ask out Y/N Telford, who happens to be the daughter of none other than Chibs Telford. But neither Happy or Y/N stopped to think about how Chibs would react.  Pairing: Happy Lowman x Reader  Word Count: 2,583 Warnings: Out of character Happy, kinda. swearing.  A/N: Happy is probably written out of character but I just love the ‘he’s a bad guy to everyone but her’ trope. Also, for those that wanted a continuation of THIS Happy imagine, this is the whole one shot. Tell me what you think!! Text divider by: @firefly-graphics​ 

Y/N was walking out of the garage office and making her way to her car when she heard someone calling her name. She figured it was one of the guys coming to ask her about something related to the garage or to ask her if she had seen Gemma. Which she had not. But what she was not expecting was to turn around and see Happy standing there, and not meeting her eye. It confused her, she was used to seeing the killer hold a stare with anyone and not back down.

“What can I do for you Happy?” she asked, “Need something from the office?” 

“No, I actually just need to ask you something,” Happy paused, taking a second to look around for others. Y/N waited, hoping he would continue. 

“I was just wondering if you’d let me take you out?” 

As soon as the words left his mouth Y/N’s stomach erupted in butterflies. She had never expected one of the guys, let alone Happy to be asking her out. Especially considering her father had a seat at the same table and the repercussions for dating his daughter were always great. But Y/N could handle her father and his temper, and neither were going to stand in the way of going out with the guy she had been ogling at for as long as she could remember. 

With a smile on her face Y/N replied, “Of course Hap, I’d love to.” 

A wide smile broke across his face at her words. “Tonight? I can pick you up around 8.” 

“That sounds great, I’ll see you then.” Y/N replied, the smile never leaving her face as she got into her car. 

Y/N was putting her earrings in when her doorbell rang. She let out an excited gasp as she run out of her bedroom and towards her front door. Sliding to a stop in front of it she took a moment to gather to breath before opening the door. 

“Hey,” she said breathless as the door opened to reveal Happy on the other side. 

“Hi,” he replied, nearly as breathless as Y/N had been. “You look amazing.” 

“Thank you,” Y/N mumbled as she felt the heat rise to her cheeks as she stepped out of her doorway. 

Happy took a step back to let Y/N lock her front door. He took a moment to admire her figure in the jeans that she had chosen to wear, thinking to himself that she was the most beautiful women he’d ever seen, with the best ass he’d ever laid eyes on. But that was something he would tell her later.

“You ready to go?” Y/N’s voice broke Happy out of his thoughts. 

Happy smiled and held his hand out for her to take. Y/N happily took it, letting him lead her to the motorcycle that sat next to her car. Happy handed her the helmet that was hung over the handlebars before mounting his bike. Y/N followed him shortly after, buckling the helmet as she slung her leg over the bike. 

“Hold on tight,” Happy said over his shoulder, a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he revved the engine of the motorcycle. 

Nearly thirty minutes later Happy was pulling his bike into the empty parking lot of what looked like a bowling alley outside of Charming. As the two dismounted from the bike Y/N sent Happy a questioning look, as if to ask why the parking lot was empty. 

Happy seemed to catch on because he began to speak, “Buddy owns the place and owed me a favor. Figured we’d get a better chance to be more open if no one else was here.” 

Y/N simply nodded, knowing better than to question him as to why he was owed a favor. But she also couldn’t fault his thinking, which is why she did not argue with him when he grabbed her hand and led them to the front door. 

The door opened easily, indeed opening to an empty bowling alley. However, all of the lights were on and there was even a table set up at the start of one of the lanes piled with different types of food and drink. It shocked Y/N, as she had just been expecting a simple dinner or movie. She never expected Happy to put in so much effort to impress her. 

“Happy, this is...” she began, but was quickly interrupted by Happy. 

“It’s nothin’.” 

Y/N shook her head with a smile on her face, knowing that this man wasn’t going to accept any compliment or praise from her. And she didn’t get the chance to argue with him as he led her to the table. Once there Happy took a moment to set up the scoreboard for their game while Y/N poured them both a small glass of beer from the pitcher on the table.

“And we’re all set.” Happy spoke as he turned around to face Y/N who was unable to wipe the smile off of her face.

Nearly four hours later the two of them were walking up Y/N’s driveway and to her front door. Y/N was still unable to rid her face of the smile that she had been sporting all night. From the surprise that was the bowling alley to the good food and great company she could not have asked for a better date.

“I had a great time tonight,” Y/N said as Happy walked her to her door after what she would consider a pretty good date. 

She turned to face him when they reached the door, smiling up at him. He gave her a small smile in return, the emotion actually reaching his eyes. 

“I did too,” Happy replied, taking a step closer to her so she was less than an arm’s length away from him. He reached up to brush a piece of hair out of her face, watching her e/c eyes flash to his lips. 

Happy took that as all the invitation he needed to lean down and brush their lips together; not kissing her yet giving her the chance to pull away is she wished. But Y/N didn’t pull away, instead she placed on of her hands on the side of his face, casting one final glace into his deep brown eyes before pulling him the rest of the way to her, slotting their lips together. 

It was a soft, deep kiss. One that knocked the breath out of Y/N’s lungs and had her craving for more. Despite the feeling deep within her she pulled away, smiling as she could still feel the kiss on her lips. 

“Wow,” she breathed out against his lips, touching her forehead to his. 

Happy chuckled, pulled back a little more to look her in the eye, “You wanna do this again sometime?” 

Y/N nodded, “Pick me up next Friday at eight.” 

As the weeks went on everyone could see the change in Happy’s demeanor, but no one was complaining. They all just wanted to know what girl had Happy so whipped. So, while sitting at the clubhouse bar a few weeks later Tig decided to ask. 

“Hey Hap,” Tig started, waving the larger man over, “I’ve got to ask man, whose got you so pussy whipped?” 

The handful of men around them laughed, including Jax and Chibs. Happy looked from Tig to Chibs, trying to come up with something to say that wasn’t going to anger the Scotsman. But he soon realized that that was going to be next to impossible as the woman he’s been seeing is none other than his daughter. 

So Happy decided to bite the bullet and come clean. He’d rather Chibs knock him to the ground now rather than later, or in front of Y/N. 

“Y/N,” he mumbled, knowing that they all heard him. That much was evident by the sound of a chair scraping against the floor. 

“My fuckin’ daughter,” Chibs seethed as he got nose to nose with Happy. Happy nodded as the club house went silent. “Ya’ bangin’ my fuckin’ kid!” 

“Dating,” Happy replied, not backing down now. “We’re dating.” 

Chibs shook his head, anger pouring off the man in waves. “No, end it now. She’s not dating a Son, she deserves more than this life.” 

“I couldn’t agree more,” Happy began, “She deserves so much more than I can give her, and I’ve tried to tell her than. But she’s chosen to stay.” 

Happy took a deep breath, shocked with himself for feeling so many things about this situation and his girl, he wasn’t used to it. “I think I may love her,” he continued.

The clubhouse went deadly silent. No one dared make a sound as the anger rose in Chibs, rather many of them took a step back just as Chibs brought his arm back and slugged Happy across the face, sending the larger man stumbling back a step or two. Gasps and exclamations broke out of the men surrounding Happy and Chibs, waiting to see what would happen next. Many of them expected Happy to come back and lay Chibs out, none of them would blame him if he did. But Happy didn’t do anything but wipe what little blood escaped the cut on his lip.

“I’m not gonna fight you brother,” Happy said, putting his hands up near his chest. “It would kill her to know we went at it. But I’m not gonna lie to you brother, I think I love her.”

Chibs was seething, he didn’t want to hear anything Happy had to say especially when it came to his daughter. His daughter who he loved with everything in his heart, who he so desperately wanted away from the club life, his little girl. He wanted to hit Happy again but knew that he was right it would tear Y/N up. So instead Chibs turned around in a huff and walked away from the group of men, storming in the direction of the office near the garage.

Y/N was sitting in the office with Gemma working on paperwork for the garage when the door opened. Both women looked up from their desks to look at the person who had opened the door, seeing Chibs standing in the doorway.

“Gem, can you give Y/N and I a minute?” he asked with very little emotion in his voice.

The older woman got up from her desk without a word, shooting Y/N a smirk and knowing look over her shoulder. Once the door closed behind her Chibs took a step forward towards his daughter.

“Y/N Telford, how could you not tell me?” her father growled out trying to keep himself from yelling.

Y/N was stunned for a moment. Her father had not talked to her like that since he caught her sneaking out of the house in high school. But she also had no idea what he was talking about, there was a lot that she didn’t let her father know simply because it would give him a heart attack if she did. And she let him know that.

“Dad, I don’t know what you’re talking about,”

“Don’t play fuckin’ dumb wit’ me. I know,” Chibs let out a long, angry breath. “I know your screwin’ Hap.”

Y/N looked at him stunned, “And? We’re dating, what’s the big deal?”

Chibs stood there with his mouth open, stunned himself. He wanted to yell at her but refrained, knowing there was probably already a crowd of bikers standing outside the door.

“He’s a goddamned Son, Y/N! He’s done things that most can’t come back from. He’s just no good for you.”

Y/N shook her head as she stood up from her desk chair. She wanted to meet her dads eye, show him that she’s still the spitfire that he had raised her to be.

“None of that fucking matters Dad. You’re a Son, you’ve done the same things and I never look at you any different.” She took a step closer, “So why the fuck does it matter that its Happy? He’s more than proven that he will be able to take care of me, to keep me safe. And he makes me so happy Dad, isn’t that all you’ve ever wanted for me to be happy?”

Y/N let out a shaky breath, trying to keep the tears from forming or falling. She didn’t want to argue with her dad especially not over something like this.

“Of course, I want you to be happy,” he nearly shouted, “But not with a Son, not with someone who could be putting you in danger.”

“This fuckin’ club is my family because of you and that’s why there’s always a chance that I’m in danger. So why shouldn’t I find a guy who can make me happy and protect me against the people that are after me because of you?” Y/N sighed as she looked at her father. He stood in the same spot with the same amount of rage behind his eyes. “Forget it, I’m not going to keep arguing with you.”

Y/N pushed her way past her father, catching his shoulder on her way to the door. She ripped the door open and watched a dozen men outside attempt to look busy as she stomped through the parking lot. No one attempted to stop her instead letting her storm to her car and peel out of the parking lot. Everyone cut their eyes to Chibs who still seemed to be fuming as the roar of a motorcycle’s engine roared through the air. Signaling Happy had decided to follow Y/N out of the parking lot.  

Y/N slammed her front door as she walked into her house her anger at her father coming to the surface. She was livid with her father; he had no right to be that angry at her for dating someone. She wasn’t sixteen anymore, she was an adult who was completely capable of thinking for herself and making her own decisions. She didn’t need her father to tell her want to do anymore, so why he thought he was still able to was astonishing.

“Babe?” Happy’s voice sounded through the house, reaching Y/N in the kitchen and breaking her from her thoughts. However, she did not respond to him scared that if she did she would end up crying or screaming.

“Baby,” he tried one more time as he stepped foot into the kitchen. Once in the kitchen he saw Y/N leaning against her countertop with her eyes closed, practically shaking. As he moved into the kitchen Y/N didn’t react to her boyfriend, not until he was directly in front of her and pulling her into his arms.

“Why does he have to be such an ass?” Y/N mumbled into Happy’s chest as she wrapped her own arms around Happy’s torso.

“Because he wants what is best for his baby girl.” Happy rubbed his hand up and down Y/N’s back as she tightened her arms around him. “And I’m not that.”

Y/N looked up at Happy with wet eyes, the fear of him breaking up with her running through her mind, “But you are Hap, you’re the best guy I could ever ask for even if you are a little rough around the edges.”

Happy cracked a small smile before leaning down and pressing a kiss to her forehead. As he did he thought to himself that they were going to be okay, the two of them would get through this and Chibs would pull his head out of his ass eventually.

[maxdark158]

Wooo! Writing shoes are back on and i’m actually really happy that i’m finally able to write again. This chapter is a bit shorter than normal but the next two are heavy hitters so it’s alright

Angel in Gotham: Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6 ~ Ao3

Demon in Gotham: Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Ao3

Fanart for AiG: Riddler ~ Joker thank you @thegreysman

Please tag me in any fanart you draw for this guys ^^

oooOOOooo

Damian typically liked patrol.

Jumping from rooftop to rooftop under the cover of the night was always exhilarating. Parkour just wasn’t the same without a belt of weapons and a costume, it was always a good way to burn of excess energy and get his mind focused.

Sure, it was his job to protect Gotham so he couldn’t be joking around, but he had to admit he liked the physical activity. He took his job seriously but taking it seriously didn’t mean it had to be unenjoyable.

Patrols were a time when he didn’t feel constrained, didn’t have to play a part or meet expectations. Nothing could ruin the cool gotham city nights on the rooftops.

Well, almost nothing.

After all, Damian’s father had the insane habit of adopting shitty ass kids for his crime fighting ring. Which meant Damian had this awful sickness called siblings. And the only thing that could ruin his nice patrols were the chortling of the other costumed idiots.

The worst nights were when all his brothers went.

Every. Single. Brother.

And what made it worse on top of that?

When they had something they felt they could tease him about. And when they were all teasing him about the same thing at the same time.

He was going to snap and stab one of them. His father might be anti murder but he didn’t have to know…

Damian shook his head. Bad thoughts.

“Thinking of your Angel?” Drake seemed to have a death wish and Damian was all about granting fucking wishes right now.

“Why do you all insist on being here?” he grumbled to himself. Because really they didn’t have to be. No bat signal, probably a few minor purse snatching crimes that one or two could handle easily. Why were they all in costume? Take the night off, stop fucking bothering him.

Annoying Fuck #1 snorted next to him when he said that, clearly not planning to be reasonable. “What, don’t like us teasing you about your Angel, demon spawn?” Todd snorted.

Damian ignored him. “Batman, shouldn’t he not be allowed to patrol with us?” His father could at least tell Todd to go home. Then when his back was turned he wouldn’t witness what happened to Dra-

“C’mon, I haven’t killed anyone and I want to hang out with my little bro! It’s not every day that Robin gets his first crush!”

Annoying Fuck #2, Drake, nearly slipped and fell from laughter.

Damian’s face warmed under his mask. “I do not have a crush you-“

“Focus on the job,” As always, father was on his side. “You can make fun of Robin later when we aren’t patrolling,” the traitorous bastard added.

Damian didn’t want to be the fucking blood son anymore.

He glared at Batman, scoffing to himself. “Then if you’ll excuse me, I’ll take my own route.”

“I’ll go with you little bird!”

Fucking fuck fuck.

Because of fucking course Grayson suggested that. And of fucking course Damian momentarily forgot that Grayson was back and patrolling too, leaving him unprepared for the suggestion. Grayson’s uncharacteristic quietness was the worst thing at times.

Fucking hell why’d they all have to be here tonight?

Proving himself to truly be a traitor, his father nodded to Grayson’s suggestion. So Damian, previously wanting to get away with his brothers and dream of murdering them alone, now had a tagalong stopping such a fun activity.

At this rate he’d have frown lines at 23.

Damian went off, not waiting for Grayson. He knew he’d easily keep pace though, so the halfhearted dream of being fully alone wouldn’t happen.

“Robin, wait here a second.” Oh fuck no. That’s Grayson’s I want to talk voice. Too bad for him because Damian did not want to talk. At all. Especially about anything Grayson might want to talk about. Because Grayson wanted to talk about French Angels and Riddlers and Spars and-

“Robin, are you listening?”

“No, Nightwing, I’m not.” Damian stared at him and raised a brow. “What is there to talk about?”

Grayson huffed, annoyed. Good. Fucker deserves it after what he and the others put him through these last few days. “I was asking if you actually had a crush or not. They’re teasing you but I’ve been,” at WE all day, Damian knew, “busy all day. I can’t tell if they’re making something out of nothing and I’d rather hear it from the horse’s mouth, so to speak.”

There was a time when Damian would have said he wasn’t a horse. When he was younger, he didn’t know idioms and expressions that well. He considered saying it now, to try and change the subject, but he also knew Grayson didn’t let things go easily. Which wasn’t very good.

Because Damian wasn’t sure how to answer.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to answer it, even to himself. His weedkiller wouldn’t arrive for a few more fucking days, he wasn’t prepared for this.

Though maybe that in of itself showed the answer to Grayson’s question…

Fucking fuck fuck.

He shook himself from those thoughts. Grayson was waiting on an answer and he didn’t have time to get lost in thought about his Ang- Marinette. Marinette.

Damian settled for glaring at Grayson. “My private life is not any business of yours.”

Grayson snorted. “Suure little bird. She’s one of the French students, right?”

“Don’t say that right now,” he snapped. Not while they were in costume, not while they could be listened to. “Focus on the job, Nightwing.”

Grayson put his hands up in surrender. “Race you to Wayne Enterprises?”

Damian didn’t wait for an answer, jumping to the next roof and making his way as fast as he could. He was determined to beat his adopted brother’s sorry ass, not that he cared about winning. It wasn’t that he was competitive, he simply didn’t want to continue this discussion. That was all. That’s fucking it.

Grayson laughed behind him, and the race began.

-----

They were taking a break near the Batcave. No activity yet, but they stayed suited up incase that changed. The night was still young, after all.

Batman instructed them to meet there through the comms. Damian and Grayson, further from the cave, made it there last. Grayson luckily hadn’t brought up and other conversation during patrol, and Damian hoped that would hold ou-

The other two idiots were waiting like the fucking lunatics they are.

Fucking fuck fuck.

“Did the demon spawn tell you about his precious Angel?” Todd clearly decided that he would die in seven days by saying that, big dumb fucking grin on his face and hair messy from removing his dumbass helmet.

“What was her name again? Mary?” Drake knew her name and was just being a little bitch. Damian decided not to give him the fucking bait, going over to a place to sit-

“Marie something, French and I think with brown eyes?”

“They’re blue,” Damian bit out. Fuck, their stupidity had infected him, he spoke before thinking. Was there a cure? He doubted it as they were all still stupid and have been for years. Fucking fuck the last thing he needs is to be on their level of idiocy.

“Right, right,” Jason’s wolfish smug grin was showing exactly how much of a fucking bitch he planned to be. Damian wanted to kick his face in.

“Little bird was pretty tight lipped on patrol,” Grayson said lightly as if he didn’t just stab him in the back.

“It’d be rude to kiss and tell,” Damian was going to strangle Drake with his own two hands.

“I haven’t kissed her!” He snapped again. His face was very warm, did he get sunburned somehow?? “We’re friends you imbeciles!”

“Friends that hold hands,” Drake pointed out.

“And tour Gotham together, alone.” Todd shortened his life span even more.

“And invite each other over to their house, where they never invited anyone before, to eat lunch.”

“Look how red his face is!”

“Little bird probably even planned to buy her ice cream! That’s why they were there when the Riddler showed up!”

“I’ll bed demon spawn-“

Damian stormed out of the room. Blood was roaring in his ears and he needed to- he just. He fucking needed fucking out of here. Away from those fuckers. Or he’d actually follow through with his thinly veiled threats and he’d rather not get blood on his costume.

He hated siblings with a passion. If his father ever considered adopting again Damian would fill all of his shoes with centipedes and rip the third seam out of every pair of pants he owned.

I don’t have a crush on her. I don’t. She’s wonderful and amazing, an angel, but I don’t like Ang- Marinette like that. She’s a friend I made and that is all.

Damian grabbed some throwing knives for target practice. Not on his brothers this time. He wanted to clear his head without those fucks nearby.

He threw one. The aim was a bit off, and he frowned. His aim was impeccable, why was he off right now? Why is having a crush on Marinette a bad thing?

No. He shook his head. He didn’t want to think those fucking thoughts right now. He threw another, harder. It went deep into the target, still off by more than he was happy with. He growled lowly.

Ange- Marinette is pure and good and wonderful. I was raised by assassins and I can’t completely shake their ideals.

Another knife. Damian’s grip on them tightened. Why was he missing?

I’m a vigilante and Damian Wayne. I have blood on my hands and money to my name and she wants to make her fashion empire herself.

Damian got more knives. His frustration was growing with each thought. They kept coming back as he tried to dismiss them, kept distracting him from the target.

She’s a talented designer. She’s incredibly smart, knows how to fight. Beautiful, dark hair and freckles and blue eyes.

Another knife sailed through the air.

I’m not anything of note without my last name or costume. She’s amazing without needing either.

Damian walked over and began taking the knives off the targets. Maybe they were fucking with his aim. He should get rid of them. Focus on removing them. Stop thinking about her.

But no matter how many fucking times he tried to redirect his thoughts, they came back.

She doesn’t have to tolerate me.

She’s wonderful and innocent.

She doesn’t deserve to be dragged down.

I don’t want to hurt her.

Damian’s hands were on his face, pushing at his eyes and trying to stop the thoughts. His Ange- Marinette was wonderful he knew that, but he didn’t think the other things. Not constantly anyway, he helped people as Robin. He was his father’s blood son. He wasn’t unhappy with himself.

But that doesn’t mean I’m good enough for Marinette.

He grabbed a knife from the table he set them on and threw it blindly, as if throwing the thought itself out and away.

It hit the center perfectly.

Damian took a deep breath. Everything was fucking overwhelming right now, and he didn’t want to think about it anymore.

But it seemed he’d have to.

Fucking fuck fuck.

Okay, okay. He… He might have a crush on Marinette.

Admitting it, oddly, seemed to lift a weight off his shoulders. Damian took another deep breath.

He has a crush on Marinette. But he values her a friend very much. He isn’t going to do anything about his crush, because she deserves someone as amazing and angelic as her, and Damian isn’t that.

But that’s okay. Because he already loves being her friend. And his weedkiller isn’t too far away.

Damian calmed down. He threw some more knives. They were all on target.

She’ll always be my friend and Angel, if I have any say in it. I’ll make sure whoever she choses is worthy of her.

Damian had just thrown his third when his father spoke through their comms. “Poison Ivy sighting at Gotham Hotel.”

The six words turned Damian’s recently found peaceful mood onto its head. Ice water poured into his and filled his limbs with dread. His chest was tight, as if someone was grabbing at his lungs and they were closing. The weeds of worry were strangling him.

That’s my Angel’s hotel.

He had dropped her off there with Alfred just earlier that day. She was staying there with her class. They were supposed to be safe and protected, she was supposed to be safe and protected.

Damian’s knives hit the ground but his feet hit it faster as he ran through the cave to the exit. Ivy best not lay a finger on her or she would lose her entire arm.

His Angel wouldn’t get hurt, not if he could help it.

[jollyrancher87]

Punch Drunk

🐸Mando x Fem! Reader🐸

Because we need some serotonin Right NOW!! Please excuse any misspellings I rushed editied this.

Summary: Mando has had a little TOO much fun after capturing a very lucrative bounty.

Rating: soft M, just to be safe, it gets a lil saucy. 18+

Warnings: Fem! Reader, drunk Mando, mentions of saucy intentions, sweet talk, Soft! Mando, a little bit of an emotional drunken Mando, slight breeding kink maybe?

🐸🐸🐸

It had taken you hours, but you had finally gotten the Child settled into bed. He'd been an absolute terror today. Refuseing to eat his meals, he always preferred when Din fed him. He threw a fit when you tried to give him a bath, wailing and climbing up you when you tried to set him into the warm water, Din always knew how to get him in the tub with no problem. Tucking him into bed, forget it. He kept sneaking out whenever you turned your back. You knew why he was so fussy, Din had been gone for two days from the Crest. A bounty was offered to him by Greef Karga, far too lucrative to ignore, he said he'd be back as soon as possible. You knew better than to worry, but still, a twist always formed in your gut when you looked out the hatch and didn't see him makeing his way home on his speeder.

You settled down into the cot, the lights dimmed, a night of restless sleep ahead of you. Nothing but the soft breath of The Child, and the hum of the Crest to keep you company. You almost drifted off to sleep, but the hiss of the hatch opening startled you awake. Your heart jumped to your throat as you reached for the blaster you kept under the cot, ready to face the intruder despite how much you were shaking. The booted footsteps of two people echoed through the hull, men you could only assume, you were ready to scramble over to a hiding spot until you heard the distinct laugh of Karga.

Your shoulders dropped, you felt dizzy as your adrenaline fell, but the relief you felt out weighed any discomfort. You sank onto your knees on the cot, putting the blaster back under the cot.As they made their way into the hull, you suddenly remembered you had stripped down to your thin silken underdress. You wrapped your blanket around yourself to hide the sheer fabric from your guests eyes.

You let out a gasp as they rounded the corner. Greef was struggling to walk as he bared the beskar covered weight of Din. Greef had one of Dins arms braced across his shoulders while he held onto Dins waist. Din's helmet covered head lolling from side to side, his feet practically dragging, his body leaning to the side like he was about to fall over, incoherent mumbling coming through his modulater. Karga laughed and patted his back.

"You've arrived my friend." He noticed you in the bed,"oh, please excuse us, we didn't mean to wake you."

You scrambled from the cot, not careing about how sheer you shift was. You rushed to Din, your hands settling on his helmet, trying to keep his head up.

"Maker! What happened? Is he hurt?" You asked Karga frantically,"Din? Mando? Are you alright?"

"He's fine, he's fine." Karga assured, as he slowy helped Din stand on his own," we were just celebrating! The biggest bounty he's ever acquired, in the shortest time too!" He pat Dins shoulder, the sudden impact makeing Din lean into you. You let out a squeak of suprise from how heavy he was. Karga swore and apologized again as he helped Din stand up right.

"So...he's-"

"Drunk!" Karga laughed,"and he deserves it, that bounty can buy you both a new ship. Hell it could buy you a palace. He'd never have to work again if he wanted. Course we know that won't happen."

"How did he get drunk?" You asked,"He can't drink anything with his helmet on."

"Thats where you're wrong," Mando said, his voice slurred and slow, his head lolling to the side,"I can.....jus need a really....really...really long straw."

"Oh Din." You sigh.

Din suddenly gripped Kargas jacket pulling him up to him.

"L-look at her..." Din slurred through the modulator as he gazed at you," She's so...pretty." he says,"have you ever seen anyone so pretty?" Karga just laughed but was cut off when Din shook him, "Well HAVE YOU?" he snapped.

"No, can't say I have Din." Karga reassured, patting his hand,"You're a very lucky man."

You felt your face grow warm at the complement. You dipped your head and made your way to help take off Dins jetpack.

"I am lucky," he mummered," prettiest girl on the whole galaxy...on my ship...caring for my son." You heard a faint sniffle from him as you set the heavy pack on the ground.

"Its ok,Din." You say softly, placing your hand on his chest plate. He rested his leather clad hand over yours as he looked down at you."Thank you for bringing him back to me in one piece," you said to Karga,"I can take it from here."

Karag nodded and said his good bye, slapping Din on the back before leaving, the hatch shutting with a loud thud.

You looked up to Din, his gaze burning through his visor down to you as he slightly wobbled. Suddenly he lunged forward, his helmet smacked against your face, making it sting. His hands gripping your ass , kneeding it harshly.

"Ow! Din!," you cried, he rubbed his helmet against your face as you gripped his armored shoulders,"what are you doing?" You half laughed.

"Kissing you." He mumbled,"I just wanna kiss you."

You laughed,"Din-"

"Im gonn buy you all the jewels-"

"You know I dont need those-"

"Furs-"

"Din," you coo, carressing his helmet.

"A home."

"That I'd love," you sigh wrapping your arms around his neck as he rests his helmet against your shoulder,"you and me and the Child, in a cozy little home-"

"Gonna fill it with warriors," he mumbled,"a new one..... every year."

You laughed,"thats a lot of babies, Din."

"And I wanna give them to you."

"Alright, you need to sleep." You grin as you try to nudge him off you.

He takes a deep breath and stands up straight.

"I'm going to kiss you." He declared as he wobbled.

"Oh? Where?" You tease as you tried to pull him towards the cot.

"Right here, right now!" He said as if it were a threat.

"No, where do you want to kiss me, Din?"

He raised his hand and tapped his gloves finger against your forehead.

"Here..." he gently gave your cheek a tap,"Here..." he ran his thumb over your lips, "Here." He nearly growled, his chest risieng and falling as his breath got heavier.

He ran his finger over your chin, down your neck,"Here," he sighed, continuing down your chest, makeing his way between your breasts,"Here. Def...definitely here." He shuddered, "I want to kiss you here so bad." He groaned, and ran his large hand smoothly down your stomach,"here." his voice a near shudder as he reached down to your core,"but this...I want to kiss this. I'll take off all my armor, and forsake the Creed, just for the chance to kiss you here."

You took his hand from between your thighs and placed it onto your chest.

"You would?" You smile.

"What?" He snapped,"dont believe me?" He challenged.

You only smiled wider as he ripped his hand away from you.

"I'll do it!"he threatened, you crossed your arms over your chest, brow raised in a challenge. He grabbed his helmet and lifted it off, spiking it onto the soft cot."See! I did it!"

His hair was as unkempt as ever, his deep brown eyes wide and bloodshot as he looked down at you. You stepped forward, and carresed his stubble and scared covered cheeks, and kissed him. Your lips gentle against his as you softly peppered his lips and cheeks with kisses. He was frozen against you, his arms limp at his sides.

"Oh Maker, I just broke the Creed-" he whispered.

You nuzzled against his cheek, running your finger down the bridge of his sharp nose.

"Din...we made our Riduurok four months ago."you whispered. He stumbled back his eyes wide, as he swallowed hard.

"You, you mean...you're my...my..."

"Wow, Din, you are drunk. You need to get into bed." You ordered as you nudged him to the cot making him sit. His mouth hung open as you took off his armor and weapons, genlty setting them to the side.

"You married me?" He nearly wimpered, you placed a kiss to the top of his head.

"Yes Din." You said gently as you took his armor, various weapons and helmet and placed it on a nearby table.

"Really?" He sniffed, you looked back and saw him on the verge of tears.

"Oh, Din," you sigh as you stand between his spread legs, pulling his head to your stomach as you ran your hand through his unkempt hair"yes, really."

"You married me?" He asked as he buried his face into you, his voice muffled,"you're my Riddur?"

You laugh softly," yes, kar'ta."

He sniffed loudly before looking up at you, his eyes brimming with tears. "Really? Like, really really?"

You leaned down and nuzzled his face,"your the only man I'd ever marry my brave, handsome, fiercesome, warrior." You kissed him again.

He stood suddenly, and wiped away a stray tear that slid down his face before a stern look came over him. He cleared his throat.

"I need to give you warriors."

"Cyar-"

He ripped off one of his gloves and tried to undo his flight suit while moving to kneel on the bed,"right now!"

"Baby-"

"Jus- jus lay down, I'll do all the work,"He pulled you down on to the bed as you laughed at his clumsy attempt to disrobe,one arm and half his torso out of his suit.

"Gotta do my duty, fill your belly, with...with my..."he grumbled as he struggled to undo his belt,"seed, DAMN THIS THING!"

You grabbed his hands to stop him, "Din, you've already filled my belly with a warrior, remember, we made our baby after we said the vows."

He slumped down, and blinked, as he sat stunned. You took advantage of his state and nudged him till he layed flat on his back. His eyes staring up at you. He reached up and carresed you're cheek.

"I love you, Mesh'la." He said.

"I know." You sighed,"I love you too my feirce warrior."

"I hope our baby looks like you." He says as you try to roll him onto his side.

"I hope our baby is as brave as you."

"No. You're the brave one," he mumbled into his pillow,"the pretty one, the strong one, with an ass that brings me to ruin."

You had to cover your mouth to keep from busting out laughing. "Go to sleep darling."

"But I wanna look at you." His voice muffled from the pillow.

"You can look at me all you want tomorrow."

"But I wanna look at you now!" He whined.

You sighed and rolled him over to his other side until you were met with his drunk grinning face.

"You're so pretty." He slurred, his still gloved hands grabbing your hip,"c'mere." He urged you down.

You nestled down next to him, his eyes slowly shutting, his hand rubbing your side.

"Look at you," he slurred,"so sweet, so soft...so...so beautiful." His brows furrowd suddenly,"wait..I can't see you! Why can't I see you!?"

"Din open your eyes."

His eyes snapped open, a slap happy grin spreading across his face, "Oh Maker, you're so clever," His hand left your side and landed on your cheek a little harsher than he intended,"how did I find you?"

"I was a bounty remember?"

He was quiet for a moment,"oh yeah....I'm so glad you're a criminal."

"Can you go to sleep for me Din?"

"Can I use your tits as a pillow?"

Before you could respond he was already pushing you onto your back, his face buried into your chest. You sighed and were about to push him off of you but the sound of him snoring stopped you. He was asleep, you were ready to try to drift off into uncomfortable sleep when you heard a coo by your side.

Looking down you were met with the wide sleepy eyes of The Child standing by the bed, his ears perked up with a tiny smile on his face. He climbed up onto the bed and over you, nestling in the small space between you and Din, his little face nuzlleing into your belly.

You groaned, it was going to be a long night.

Thank you for reading xoxo