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mrs-kmikaelson · 11 months

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Should've Known Better

Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x reader, Mikaelsons x sister-in-law!reader, Kol Mikaelson x reader (if you squint), Marcel Gerard x mother-figure!reader Summary: After a thousand years of marriage, everything comes crumbling down, taking you with it. But you shouldn't have been so surprised; you knew that Klaus was fire, and you knew that fire burned. You should've known better. Warnings: long, lots of angst and tears, cheating, (do i put tw for violence? like it's tvd, ofc there's violence), no promises of a happy ending Words: 7.8K

Masterlist | Part 2

a/n: not an update for the tribrid yet, but i come bearing a peace offering. this is the only one for now, but i have an idea for a part two if you guys want one. also, tell me if you want to be on just my klaus taglist or my tvdu one.

In the past, you’d been told that your relationship with Klaus didn’t make any sense. You ignored them. They don’t know us, you thought. They don’t understand what we’ve gone through. And that, for the most part, was true.

You were turned with the Mikaelsons when you were only twenty-one years old. You and Klaus had stuck together since then. Through all the trials and tribulations, you two were inseparable. The daggering of his siblings, the hunter’s curse, his enemies coming after you, trying to break his curse—you were there every step of the way. Nothing could make you leave him. In your mind, it didn’t matter what obstacle life threw at you; you’d beat it. You beat it every single time.

Later, you realized that you should’ve known this would happen sooner.

You should’ve known that it was too good to be true.

You could still remember walking into your shared apartment that day in the nineties. You were on top of the tallest mountain, feeling like you were on top of the world. Until suddenly you fell, plummeting down to the ground as the life you’d built fell with you. But that wasn’t the right word to use. You did not fall that day.

You were pushed.

“Nik, I got the-” you cut yourself off, dropping the bags in your hands to the ground. Something in them cracked, but you couldn’t hear a thing. Your world went silent; it was as if the only cracking you could hear was the cracking of your own heart.

Klaus quickly got up, speeding to you. While he was able to get his pants on quickly, there was nothing he could do to hide the blonde in his bed- your bed.

“Y/N, love, it’s not-”

“It’s not what, Klaus?” Tears that you didn’t even know were there raced down your cheeks. You saw him wince when you addressed him. You never called him that.

“This is not what it looks like.”

“Oh, really? So you didn’t just fuck this girl in our bed?” At that, his eyes went downcast. You felt your hands shake. He had no explanation to give you and you knew that; it wouldn’t matter if he had one, anyway. You weren’t gonna stick around to listen to it.

You sped out of your shared apartment as fast as you could, not caring if any human onlookers saw. That day, you swore to yourself that you were done.

You should’ve known better.

That day, you ended up running to Elijah, hoping he would give you refuge, but you knew now that it was wishful thinking. It didn’t matter that Klaus and Elijah were fighting. It didn’t matter how close you and the nobleman were, how much he claimed to care for you. At the end of the day, his brother would still mean more to him.

So, that same day, Elijah brought you right back to Klaus.

You refused to talk to him, but he begged, and begged, and begged. He promised, and promised, and promised. He showered you with affection and more sweet-nothings than he’d ever given you. So, you thought to yourself, he’s trying. He just made a dumb mistake. We all deserve second chances.

You kick yourself now for ever being so stupid. But, at the time, all you could think about was the centuries upon centuries of love the two of you shared. It felt like a crime to throw it all away over one mistake.

But it wasn’t just one mistake.

“Y/N, love, please don’t do this-” Klaus reached a hand out to grab your arm, but you shoved him away. You stormed out of the house, your husband following right behind you. It was pouring outside, but you didn’t care. There was a much more dangerous storm brewing inside of you. You’d prefer to be out in the rain than to ever be in that house with him again.

“Y/N, please-”

“Get the hell away from me.”

“Y/N-”

You spun on your heel and exploded, “Get the hell away from me, Klaus!” The rain hid it all so well, but you were both crying.

“Please, I can’t lose you.” You finally broke down, letting out a sob. You fell down to the ground as Klaus tried desperately to catch you, ending up kneeling on the ground next to you.

You tried to hard to be strong, not to cry, but you couldn’t help it. You were smart; you knew better than to let a man do this to you. But, when it came to Klaus, the man you’d spent your entire life with, your heart overpowered your head.

Your voice cracked with every word you spoke. “You said this would never happen again.”

“Love-”

“No, you promised me, Nik, you said never again.” He opened his mouth to speak, but you didn’t let him get a word in. “You said you would never put me through this again-”

“Y/N-”

“It’s been all of ten years, and here we are, in the same position you put us in last time-” You cut yourself off sobbing as your voice failed you. You buried your head in your hands. The heartbreak you felt was ineffable, so much more intense than the last time. When you said your vows all those years ago, so high on happiness, you never could’ve imagined that you’d one day feel like this—that Klaus would make you feel like this.

He didn’t say anything else. There was nothing to say. There was no defence for what he was doing to you. So instead, he wrapped his arms around you, and being tired, you let him.

It was funny, almost. Even as he engulfed you in his warmth, even after he took you inside and placed you by the fireplace, you still felt so cold.

After the second time, you left him. You woke up the morning after, wrapped in his arms, and you left without looking back. Leaving him almost hurt just as much as catching him in the act, but you knew this was what was best. You needed to do this.

This time, you didn’t go to Elijah. You cut off all communication with the Mikaelsons completely, even though they were both blowing up your phone. After the first fifty phone calls, you threw it in a dumpster.

Being away from Klaus made you feel better, but you still didn’t feel like you. For a long time, you felt broken, incomplete, so used. You didn’t know who you were without him. But you got better.

Slowly, you built yourself back up, building walls around your heart so that no one could ever do that to you again. But if Klaus was the big bad wolf, then you may as well have just been a little piggy because, when he found you, he blew those walls down effortlessly as if they were made of straw.

See, Klaus Mikaelson was like a whirlpool: try and swim away all you want, but he would just keep sucking you in until you’d eventually die.

You should’ve known better.

You walked into your apartment with a kick in your step. It was a good day; you were happy. But the smile on your face dropped when you saw the figure standing in your home.

You tried to go back out through the door, but Klaus was faster, speeding to you and closing it shut, caging you between the door and him. You let out a shaky breath, unable to turn around as you rested your forehead against the door, tears welling in your eyes.

It’d been three years since you last saw him, the longest you’d ever gone without seeing him, yet he still made you feel things that no one else on earth could.

For a moment, you were both mute until you broke the silence, whispering, “What are you doing here?”

You heard him swallow as if he was scared, but you were the one that was terrified. Klaus would never lay a hand on you, but he could hurt you in ways that were so much worse, so at that moment, you feared for your life. Because you knew that, with the right words, he could get you to fall into his trap again, and going through all this again would kill you.

“I-” he paused, like he was gathering his thoughts. You thanked whatever god was out there that he didn’t make you face him. “I knew you were here, I just- I wanted you to have time to yourself, but, Y/N, it’s time to come home now.”

Your lips quivered as you struggled to hold the tears. He made it sound like this was a game, and maybe to him it was, but it wasn’t like that for you. This wasn’t a break that you’d just “come back” from; you were done, you promised yourself that.

You shook your head, but Klaus spoke before you could even utter your protests. “I can break my curse.” Your eyes involuntarily went wide, not having expected that. You were just about to spin around, but he turned you first. As soon as your eyes met his, you couldn’t help the tear that fell down your face.

It was like you forgot how beautiful he could be.

He looked to be having somewhat of the same reaction as you, scanning over you as if couldn’t tell that you were real. And honestly, you even felt like pinching yourself, too.

His voice got softer. “There’s a girl in Virginia, the doppelgänger.” He paused to let you say something, but you were so taken aback by everything that’d happened after you stepped into your apartment that you were practically speechless. How ironic. You’d spent months agonizing over all you’d say to him if you ever saw him again, but now that you were, you had nothing to say.

“I am so close, Y/N,” he whispered. His hands cupped your cheek so gently that a stranger would’ve never guessed that this man had destroyed entire villages, that he even destroyed you, too. When he rested his forehead on yours, the tears that you were trying so hard to hold in came falling like your eyes were a waterfall. “I can- I can wake the rest of the family. Rebekah, Kol, Finn- I know how much you miss them all.”

Your heart tightened in your chest because you did miss them, but you forgot just how much you missed him.

“We can be a family again, Y/N.” You screwed your eyes shut. Your husband was a smart man. Whether the tears in his eyes were real or if he was just a great actor, you couldn’t be sure, but he knew exactly what your weak-spots were and he was using them against you.

This wasn’t fair, you thought. This wasn’t fair at all.

“Please, let us be a family again.” You opened your eyes, biting your lip to prevent the sobs from escaping. “I love you.” Oh, you should’ve kept your eyes closed. You should’ve sped out the door the second you saw him. You should’ve ran farther, tried harder to disappear so that he would’ve never found you.

But none of that mattered.

Because, just like that, you folded.

After a week, you ended up leaving with Klaus. You helped him with his plans to become a hybrid, and he was trying, you could tell he was really trying, but your marriage wasn’t the same. Whenever you kissed him, you couldn’t help but wonder, did she kiss him like this? When you made love, you wondered, was he so tender and loving with her, too? Were you even as special as he told you that you were?

There was only so much trying he could do. You knew the damage was done. You now had insecurities that no amount of sweet words could ever get rid of. You were such a confident woman, but you didn’t feel that way, not anymore.

Your mirror was cracked, sure, but you could still see yourself. You still saw a future, a bright future. You, Klaus, Elijah, Rebekah, Kol, Finn—you could all be a family, just like Klaus told you that day. You could see it.

So you stayed.

Eventually, they were all woken up. For a while, things felt normal, like when you’d been human. But you were starting to learn that good things never lasted long enough.

When Esther came back, she tried to kill you all. You defeated her, as a family, but no matter how hard you tried to convince them, your siblings all left. This family’s broken, Kol said to you. You’d best get out while you can, Y/N.

You should’ve listened to him.

But you didn’t, and you’d later wonder if things would’ve been different. If you took Kol’s offer to come with him, to leave your husband and travel the world, then would you have been happy?

You tell yourself you’d never know, but you knew deep down that you would’ve been happy, that at least you wouldn’t have been devastated.

It was only you and Rebekah; you were the only ones that could stick by Klaus. In that way, you two were one in the same, two sides of the same coin. You’d always be living in the same hell, trying to get to heaven by being loyal to him, but little did you both know, the longer you stayed, the deeper down into hell you went. Until heaven was unobtainable.

For a while, things were okay. You and Klaus were okay—God, you were just getting to okay. And then Kol died.

That took the cake. Nothing you’d ever felt was so painful, not even what your soulmate did to you, or the man who was supposed to be your soulmate.

Suddenly, you were wishing you could turn back time, wishing you could’ve gone with Kol when he asked you to, wishing you could’ve spent more time with him—you just got him back.

After Kol’s death, it was like the idea of a family became unobtainable, too.

You were in pieces, but Rebekah stayed strong. She handled Klaus while you couldn’t, because wasn’t that your job? What else were you here for—what else were either of you here for?

You wanted to kill Jeremy Gilbert, to rip him and Elena to shreds and to make the Salvatores watch. You wanted them to feel even an inch of your pain, but Klaus didn’t let you, and you resented him for it.

The way he behaved after Kol’s death was unforgivable to you, but you were able to see past it because what was his death if it wasn’t a wake up call? You didn’t want to take this life for granted; you didn’t want to wake up one day, regretting not spending time with your husband because he was dead.

So you repaired the bond that was severed after Kol. You held him and he held you just as tight, if not tighter. Neither of you wanted to lose the other. So you worked for it, you worked for something better, you worked to be something like what you were before—to be anything like what you were before.

But, oh, you should’ve known better.

You didn’t walk in on Klaus cheating on you a third time. He confessed to you, tears in his eyes. He begged, and made promises, and begged, and begged, and cried, and cried, and he did the whole routine, but you were silent throughout it all.

You didn’t cry. You felt like your body was out of tears. God knows you’d cried an ocean away for Klaus, for this family, for the family you could’ve had.

You didn’t say anything, but you knew better now. You weren’t gonna run away, you’d learned from your mistakes. Instead, you moved into a different room in the house. The flowers, the jewelry, the sweet words—oh, all of the things that’d made you swoon in the past didn’t faze you. You’d been force-fed so many sweet words that you now had a tooth ache that no doctor could fix.

You didn’t talk to Klaus for weeks, but when the time came, you followed him to New Orleans. You were practically lifeless, but when Klaus brought you into a bar and you were met with the sight of the boy you took in, the boy you thought died, it was like someone took a defibrillator to your chest.

Hugging Marcel for the first time in almost a century was like CPR. Is this a play? you wondered. Is this Klaus’ strategy? But at that moment, it didn’t matter. Once again, you were reminded of Kol. You needed to cherish your loved ones while you still could, and so it didn’t matter if Klaus was using Marcel to get you to crack, you’d appreciate it, anyway.

But you should’ve known better. You should’ve known that you couldn’t be happy.

When you got to the plantation late at night, the house Klaus insisted you stay in, you were confused to see a brunette woman standing on the stairs.

You furrowed your brows while the woman’s went up. She looked like a deer in headlights. Before you could ask her any questions, your sister came into view. She looked almost as shocked as you.

“Rebekah?”

She ignored you. “You’re here,” she said, surprise lacing her voice and an unknown emotion in her eyes.

“Yes, I am.” You glanced in between Rebekah and the brunette, starting to become unnerved with their expressions. You didn’t know why she was surprised that you were here; it was you who should’ve been surprised at her arrival.

You should’ve known better.

“Elijah- Elijah didn’t tell me you’d be here.”

You only got more confused as she went on. “Elijah’s here?”

She ignored you again, scoffing under her breath, shaking her head at the ground. “My brother’s a fool,” she muttered. And only then did you realize that the emotion in her eyes was pity.

You looked back to the brown-haired woman, instantly realizing why she was looking at you like you were going to attack her. Quickly, you looked away before you actually did. You didn’t say the exact words out loud, but they knew that you knew.

“What is she doing here?” Your voice was sharp; you saw the girl flinch out of the corner of her eye.

When Rebekah looked up at you, you felt your heart drop. She looked at you like you were the last to be let in on the secret, like she knew she was about to single-handedly crush you. Softly, she told you, “Listen.” And so you did.

And then every other time your heart broke felt like nothing. Nothing could compare to the utter shock you felt, the pain. Because you heard a little heartbeat, and you knew the implication Rebekah was making.

You looked up to the girl to see that she was about to cry. That almost made you lose it. Who was she to cry? you thought.

You looked at Rebekah to see tears in her eyes, too. “How?” You asked, but she didn’t get a chance to reply.

“Niklaus is a hybrid, Y/N.” You turned to see Elijah slowly walking into the room. He looked careful, almost, like anything he said could set you off. “He’s not a full vampire-”

“And she’s human,” you cut him off, humourlessly chuckling. The human girl gave him a baby.

You couldn’t help but wonder, if you had a baby while you were human, would your marriage have ended up this way?

But none of that mattered. Right now, it felt like nothing mattered. Just as you thought there was nothing more Klaus could do to you, he gets his one night stand pregnant. Now she wasn’t so much of a one night stand anymore, was she?

Your siblings were looking at you like you were a china doll, like their brother had just thrown you and they were waiting for you to break. But your face was blank. On the inside, however, there was an entire hurricane taking place, but it was like your body refused to release any of it. Oh, you wanted to break down, you wanted to so badly, but it felt impossible.

There was nothing more to say- nothing you cared to hear, anyway. So you slowly walked up the stairs, heading for a guest room, ignoring Rebekah and Elijah’s calls. The blonde started crying, and if you’d looked down, then you would’ve seen Elijah burning a hole into the ground with his gaze.

You didn’t want to look at either of them, especially not your husband’s right hand man. You were growing to resent Elijah, even though there was a time when you were the best of friends. Maybe if he hadn’t brought you back to Klaus that day in 1996, then you could’ve been spared this horrible, horrible feeling. But no. Any relationship you had with a Mikaelson was trumped by the relationship they had with Klaus.

Of course, they were here, you thought. Of course, they come running back to him the second he does something stupid.

But how mad at them could you really be?

Haven’t you always been doing the same thing?

After you’d gone up stairs, you could remember popping open an old bottle of whiskey and drinking until your vision was hazy. You couldn’t remember when you fell asleep, but when you awoke, Klaus was right there in bed next to you.

You ignored your thoughts, questioning the nerve of him to get in bed with you after what you’d found out, and walked out of the room.

But you didn’t feel as angry as the night before. You felt numb, almost. The last time you felt so empty was after your parents died a thousand years ago. It didn’t necessarily bother you, though. Feeling nothing felt better than feeling everything.

So you let it be. You showered, got dressed, and left the house. Rebekah and Elijah stared at you as you left, but you didn’t give them the time of day. You went and met Marcel for breakfast like everything was fine, went shopping, then you came back home and climbed into bed. When you woke up, Klaus was there again, but you ignored it and continued with your routine.

For three weeks, you didn’t say a word to your husband. He could barely even try to speak to you; you were gone all day everyday and you were asleep by the time he came home. Rebekah would try to make conversation whenever she saw you, but she only received short answers. Elijah didn’t even try; something told you he felt guilty, and you hoped he did. The pregnant werewolf whose name you learned was Hayley would tense up every time you crossed paths. Once, she tried to apologize to you, but it was as if she were talking to a wall because you didn’t give her the slightest bit of attention.

While you weren’t communicating with the people you lived with, when you went out into the Quarter, you were a different person. You were lively, and confident, and funny, and you didn’t look like a woman whose husband cheated on her. Marcel was constantly introducing you to people; you were always surrounded by people, and while you felt so alone at first, as time progressed, you stopped feeling so lonely.

Suddenly, it was like that hole in you started to heal. The hole was still there, but it was getting better.

One day, one of your new friends introduced you to this boy, this young, newly turned boy. And, looking at him, you felt something other than despair: you felt like you were human again. Talking to him made you feel things that you forgot existed, things Klaus used to make you feel on a daily basis.

This boy was good. He was pure, and happy, and full of life, even though he was dead.

It felt wrong at first. Klaus was the only man you had ever been with. But perhaps that was why you liked this boy so much: he reminded you of a side of your lover that had been long dormant, the side of Klaus you fell in love with.

You never slept with him. You never even kissed him. All you did was feel something.

But that didn’t matter.

Oh, you should’ve known better.

So much better.

You opened the door, your bag immediately falling to the ground at the sight you were met with. “No- no, no, no.” You sped into the living room, falling to your knees. Your tears fell with you.

In front of you, the sweet, sweet boy you were starting to feel something for was lying dead in his own apartment. You wished it wasn’t real, but his body was grey, veins all over him. With the hole in his chest, he didn’t look so peaceful anymore.

You cupped your hand over your mouth in shock, silently sobbing. You were so distraught that you didn’t even notice the footsteps behind you.

“I ripped his heart out.” You turned your head to see none other than your husband standing a few feet away from you, the red organ in his hand. While your vision was blurred, you could still see the quiet anger on his face, even though he seemed emotionless. He dropped Leo’s heart on to the ground like it was nothing.

Suddenly, a fire that you thought died out alit in your body. You all but sneered, “What is wrong with you?”

Klaus humourlessly chuckled. It was almost like you couldn’t recognize him, but oh, he had never looked more like himself. “What’s wrong with me?” He echoed. “What’s wrong with me is my wife has been sneaking around behind my back.”

You scoffed in utter disbelief and shot up from the ground. “Oh, so I’m the villain now? I’m sorry, saint Klaus, I didn’t know you were so innocent.”

“Don’t start this with me.”

You snapped. “You started this! I have been living in that house with you and your pregnant werewolf, leaving you to your own devices, but the second I try to be happy, I’m the one in the wrong?”

“Y/N-”

“No, I- I can’t even believe what I’m hearing right now.” A laugh escaped from your lips, full of darkness. “I have not done any damage to this marriage.” You pointed at him. “You’re the one who broke your vows, not me. Forgive me for wanting to clutch at any happiness I could have after you took it all from me.”

Klaus pointed right back at you. “Our marriage isn’t over, Y/N- it will never be. I will never let you forget that.”

You shook your head. “This isn’t a marriage anymore.” Klaus’ mouth opened to protest, but you kept going. Everything you held in and didn’t say was coming up like bile in your throat that you desperately wanted to vomit. “You have destroyed this marriage, Klaus! Hell, you destroyed me.” You pointed to yourself, more tears coming to your eyes. “You have cheated not once but three times, and you got the last one pregnant! But the second I- what? The second I so much as talk to a man, you go and rip his heart out and get mad at me? Do you hear how insane that sounds?”

His jaw clenched, and maybe there was some sign of regret or remorse in his eyes, but you honestly couldn’t care less about his feelings at the moment. “Y/N-” he started, but you didn’t dare let him finish.

“No, it’s you who threw a thousand years down the drain, not me.” You took a step closer to him until you were chest to chest and you were looking right into his eyes. Maybe this would’ve ended in a kiss in the past, but your relationship was no longer the same. You grit your teeth.“I will never let you forget that.”

You then sped out of the apartment, running and running and not stopping until you were in an area you no longer recognized. Once you stopped, you let all of your tears fall, resting a hand on your chest and running the other through your hair. Your heart and your head were both pounding. Every time you thought Klaus couldn’t go any lower, he proved you wrong.

So, standing in the middle of nowhere, you grieved the loss of that poor boy, and at the same time, you grieved the loss of the man who was once your best friend. You grieved the loss of your marriage.

Because this was more than just killing a boy.

In doing this, Klaus killed another part of your marriage when you weren’t sure there was even anything left to kill.

After crying your heart out, you returned to the plantation and went straight to sleep. For a week, you stayed in bed, in spite of Rebekah who came knocking on your door every morning. One time, she didn’t leave so quickly after you remained mute. She sat on your bed, demanding that you eat something. When, throughout all her best efforts, you stayed silent, she threw the glass of blood onto the ground, breaking down and sobbing. Tears ran down her face as she pleaded to you, but you only stared at the wall, expressionless.

She apologized to you in between in her tears, even though it wasn’t her fault, even though you were only this way because of Klaus. But, oh, wasn’t that Rebekah’s specialty? Wasn’t that yours—stuck paying for the sins of the hybrid for the rest of your lives?

She cried, and cried, and cried, until she eventually left the room, too exhausted to keep dancing the same dance. She didn’t come back again.

You never cleaned the blood on the floor from the glass she threw. If anything, you hoped it soaked in and ruined the mahogany floors of this god awful house. It wasn’t long before you wouldn’t have to stare at that stain anymore because Klaus had come to tell you that you were leaving. You’d all be going to the Abattoir, he said.

You were confused; that was where Marcel stayed. So, for the first time in a week, you spoke. When you found out about the altercation they had, you recoiled. Both disgust and shock were on your face: disgusted at your husband’s behaviour and shocked with how he was treating Marcel.

You felt like screaming at him, but you didn’t have enough energy. Instead, you just stared at him. With your voice just barely above a whisper, you told him, That is your son, Klaus. You hoped that conveyed everything else you wanted to say. And you knew your message was received when Klaus walked out of your room without another word.

When you arrived at the compound, little changed. You and your husband still didn’t talk. Soon, when your siblings arrived, you didn’t speak to them either. Life went on this way for a long time.

Until Hayley gave birth.

Oh, life had felt so slow, but suddenly it started moving so fast.

When you first laid your eyes on little Hope, tears came to your eyes. She looked just like her father, you thought. And while you had never wanted anything to do with this, what Klaus had done, you couldn’t find it in yourself to condemn an innocent child.

Maybe Rebekah and Elijah would pay for their brother’s mistakes. Maybe you would, too. But you’d be damned if you let that baby suffer solely for being a Mikaelson.

Even if it meant you’d suffer the most.

The night Klaus came to you, you didn’t greet him, but you didn’t look at him so scathingly, either. In the courtyard, he asked something of you that’d change the rest of your life.

“Y/N, I know we’re not on the best of terms- I know I haven’t been a faithful husband, nor a good one,” he admitted, glancing down as if he were nervous before looking back up to your eyes. This was serious, and he wanted you to know that. “I know you don’t deserve this, and I know you never signed up for this. But I need your help.”

You straightened your shoulders. Whatever he was going to say, it looked like it physically pained him to say it. You wondered if this speech was inspired by Elijah, but you diverted your thoughts away from that. This wasn’t about your marriage; this was about something more important.

“You’re the only person I trust enough to do this, the only person I can really ask. It’s wrong of me to put this pressure on you after everything I’ve done, but I wouldn’t be asking if this weren’t so dire- you have to believe me.” He grabbed onto your hands, and you let him, even though it made you want to die, because when your skin made contact, you felt his hands tremble.

“Hope can’t be here; it’s not safe. The people of this city now know she is my weakness, and they will do anything to spite me, you’ve seen it firsthand.” You knew exactly what he was referring to: the day the witches tried to kill her. At the thought, you tensed. You saw tears gather in his eyes. “Please, I need her not to be here right now-”

You cut him off, almost in a state of awe as you realized what this was all about. “You need them to think she’s dead.” Your voice was breathy, like you’d just finished running a marathon, and wasn’t that what life was like in this family? With the Mikaelsons, no matter how powerful you all were, you’d always be running from something, fighting something. That couldn’t happen to Hope- not now, not yet. And so, without so much as another thought, you agreed, “I’ll do it.”

“Y/N-”

“No, Klaus, I’m doing this.” For the first time since you got to New Orleans, he saw a spark in your eye that you both thought had been extinguished. “I’ll take her, and I will protect her with my life.”

After that, he just stared at you for a few seconds. And for a moment, you as you held eye contact, you caught a glimpse of the man you fell in love with. For a moment, it almost felt like everything was alright, like he never cheated and like you never left. For a moment, the world stopped, and it was just you and him against the world.

But you knew better now.

You were startled when your husband suddenly embraced you tightly as if he never wanted to let you go. And then you realized how you couldn’t remember the last time you’d hugged. So, after a few seconds, if not just for the sake of it, you hugged him back. Although he quietly stammered his next words out, he still said them with more sincerity than you’ve heard from him in a long time. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

You knew he was referring to more than just what he was asking of you. But, oh, you knew better now.

“I know.”

Not long after you and Klaus had that conversation, you took Hope. For the first time since you met her that day and found out she was pregnant, you actually talked to Hayley. Her eyes widened, like she couldn’t believe it. You told her that this didn’t make you two friends, but you also promised her that you’d look after her daughter.

She thanked you after a beat of silence, and then you and Hope disappeared.

You were gone for a while until your family’s drama eased up and you got the okay to come back to the Quarter. In that time, Hope’s parents missed their daughter’s first Christmas and also her birthday. But you made sure to take all the pictures you could. Even with the way you felt about them both, you weren’t gonna let those feelings get in the way of their relationship with Hope.

Their family, rather. When you returned, you realized that this was no longer your family. Eating dinner with them your first night back only proved that to you. This baby had changed all of you. You no longer knew your husband, and he no longer knew you.

When you first arrived to the compound, Klaus and Hayley came rushing to hug their little girl. The hybrid mouthed a thank you to you as he rubbed Hope’s back, tears in his eyes. The hostility you’d shown him from when he confessed he cheated on you all the way until just before you left New Orleans was gone. You couldn’t find it in you to be hostile as you watched him hold his daughter. In that moment, he was more than the man who betrayed you; he was a father who had been separated from his daughter.

That didn’t mean you forgave him, but you were trying to get there—for Hope.

Rebekah and Elijah showed up not a minute later. The blonde cooed at Hope while Elijah walked toward you, enveloping you in a hug that you couldn’t deny. You were worn out, and all you’d wanted this past year was to not be alone. But, deep down, you knew these efforts were futile. Things with your siblings would never be the same.

Rebekah had once been your best friend, but she was Klaus’ little sister first. Elijah was like an older brother to you, but he was Klaus’ first. The only person who could’ve possibly understood the way you were feeling was Kol, and he was long gone.

So, even as you stood in a room full of people, you still felt just as alone as when it’d only been you and Hope.

However, your epiphany didn’t matter. Maybe if it weren’t for Hope, you would’ve left and never turned back. Maybe you could’ve gone out and tried to find yourself, tried to be that same girl you were starting to like when you left Klaus in 2006. But Hope was there, and so you knew you couldn’t go anywhere. You had to stay with your family, even if they weren’t really your family anymore, because you just had to be there. You needed to protect Hope. You needed to keep Elijah from handling everything, and you needed to keep your little sister from spinning out. You needed to be there for Klaus to fall back on if he needed to, not for him, but to make sure he could be the best father he could possibly be to Hope.

To you, it wasn’t a choice. You needed to do this.

After all, didn’t you promise always and forever?

So, you stayed. You took care of Hope and took care of Klaus when Rebekah couldn’t take it anymore. It was almost as if your once other half and you had a silent agreement. He never tried anything, not even so much as holding your hand, but you were there for him as a friend, even though it broke your heart.

The two of you never officially ended things. Part of you wondered if maybe he thought you would get back together one day, but now you knew better than to ever expect anything like that. Yes, you would stay in the compound. And yes, you would take care of Hope. And yes, you would play nice with the mother of his child. But you were no longer Klaus and Y/N Mikaelson.

You were just Klaus and Y/N.

You never went out with another boy again. It was pointless, and you never wanted to fall for someone again if this was what love felt like, if it only ever brought you pain.

For years, things went this way. There were a few threats here and there, but they were taken care of every time. Hope was the most loved child in the world. She was starting to grow up, and so she was also starting to realize that her parents weren’t together. She was starting to realize that her father looked at the woman that’d been there all her life with a look of warmth in his eyes. She was starting to ask you questions that you didn’t know how to answer, questions you weren’t prepared to answer.

So, on Christmas Eve, after everyone had went to bed, you unscrewed the oldest bottle of liquor you had. You were originally saving it for a celebratory occasion, but you, too, were starting to realize things. You were starting to realize that, perhaps, the celebration would never come.

So you sat on the couch in the courtyard in front of the fireplace, unfazed by the cold. The Christmas tree diagonal to you glimmered and gleamed, but you were no longer so magnetized to it. Something in the last few years had taken away bits and pieces of your spirit until you were no longer sure it was even there anymore.

You took a swig of the wine, indulging in its bittersweetness as you stared straight into the fire, not caring if it’d blind you. For the first time since you turned, you loathed your immortality. At first, you looked at it like a blessing, something that’d give you an eternity with your family, an eternity to travel the world and enjoy all it had to offer you.

But now it was just a curse.

Just as you took another swig, you heard footsteps behind you, and suddenly the couch dipped, someone else sitting right beside you.

You could immediately tell who it was just from the mere grace of his actions. Elijah. You glanced at the nobleman, almost scoffing at his attire. Past midnight, and yet he was still in a suit.

Your voice was raspy as you remarked, “No rest for the wicked, huh?” Elijah sighed as you passed the bottle to him. For a second, you thought he’d scold you for not using a glass, but instead he took a large gulp straight from the bottle.

“It seems that way, Y/N,” he said, passing the bottle back to you. You chuckled, but there wasn’t much humour in your tone. He didn’t ask you why you were awake, nor did you ask him. You just sat together in front fireplace, passing the bottle back and forth. You didn’t know if you were both so silent because of how tired you were or if it was because your relationship had just become that fragile.

Sitting there, no Saint Nick came by in a magic sled. There were no reindeer, or bells, or snow. There was no magic to this holiday for you anymore, and you wondered if Elijah felt the same way. You wondered if he was as tired as he looked right now, as tired as you felt. If he was, then you couldn’t help but feel bad for him because, even though you had felt resentment for him, you wouldn’t wish this on anybody.

Still though, you wondered if you’d be sitting there if Elijah just let you go that day. You wondered how things would’ve turned out if he let himself go, too.

Like he was reading your mind, he suddenly turned to you and whispered, “I’m sorry, Y/N.” You turned to face him. While he looked serious, he looked more broken than you’d ever seen him. “I’m sorry I brought you back to him that day. I’m just now realizing that I’ve never apologized to you before.” You stared at him silently, and so he continued, looking back to the fire. “You could have been happy, and I took that opportunity away from you. So I am sorry.” He paused, like he was debating on saying something, a glazed look in his eyes as he lightly muttered, “More sorry than you’ll ever know.”

For what felt like forever but was really just a minute, you didn’t say anything. You, too, turned back to the fire, biting your lip as you tried to articulate what you wanted to say. “I think… I think, at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter.” You saw him turn back to you out of the corner of your eye, but you didn’t look back. You didn’t know if you could say this while looking at him. “I think it would’ve ended up like this, anyway. I was his wife, not his keeper, but that didn’t matter. My love for him would’ve always made me stay and look after him, even though it kills me inside, even though I think I died a long time ago.” You swallowed. “My mother used to tell me to watch how boys treat me, but Nik wasn’t just any boy. I was so enthralled by the beauty of the fire that I didn’t care if I’d get burned- God, I just wanted to feel warm.” Unknowingly, a tear fell down your cheek. At that moment, you turned to your brother to see him watching you intently. You shook your head, giving him a small smile. “It wasn’t your fault, Elijah, it was mine. I should’ve known better.”

At that, you got up, leaving the bottle with Elijah, and you walked back to your room. You didn’t sleep that night, but when Hope came running into your room in the morning, screaming that Santa came, you pretended to be asleep so that she could wake you.

You sat through the opening of presents, Elijah looking at you differently than before. And you’d sit through multiple Christmases after this one.

No matter how much it hurt you or how it unhealthy it was, you knew you were locked in now, and you threw away the key ages ago. You couldn’t get off this ride, not even if you tried to.

Maybe, if you didn’t let Klaus pull you back in time and time again, then you wouldn’t be stuck. But you did, and now all you could do was just sit and let the roller coaster run its course, no matter how sick it made you or how many tears would leave your eyes when no one was watching.

Now, you’d be here always and forever. But you still couldn’t help but think-

You should’ve known better.

Taglist: @honestlycasualarcade

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cevansbrat0007 · 2 months

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The Do-Over

Summary: Everyone deserves a second chance, including jerks like Bounty Hunter, Ari Levinson. Takes place directly after the events in Hello, Duchess.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Bucky Barnes, A Deep Love of Clark Bars, Light Groveling, Bickering, Discussions of Grief, Threats of Violence, Gentle Manhandling, Brief References to Negative Body Image, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Special thanks to my creative consultant, @curls-and-eyeliner. Part my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

An annoyed Ari takes a pull from his cigarette as he listens to his friend and fellow combat vet give him shit all the way from his office back in New Mexico. As soon as this was over, he was going to ditch this empty parking lot to find himself an ice cold beer and a goddamned steak.

He was officially ready to put this day behind him. But first he needed a decent dinner.

“So let me see if I’ve got this right.” His friend begins, now that he’d finally stopped cursing up a blue streak. “Do you really mean to tell me that you took our best lead, which just so happened to be the perp’s girlfriend, and fucked it all to hell?”

Okay, but just because that’s what happened doesn't necessarily mean that it was actually his fault. He’d just been a little off his game.

“Hey Buck, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re beginning to sound as dramatic as Rogers.”

“Steve would never fuck-up something this big for us.” He could practically hear the man flipping him off.

“I’m telling you this girl would’ve cut off Golden Boy’s balls and fed them to him for breakfast, okay?” He takes another puff, flicking some of the excess ash out his driver-side window. “Trust me.”

“Hold on.” An exasperated Bucky sighs into the receiver before placing the phone on his desk to speak to whoever had just walked into his office. He hoped whoever it was had better news than he did, otherwise he feared his old war buddy might have an aneurysm.

Sometimes he got the impression that Sergeant James “Bucky” Barnes was wound a little too tight.

The silence drags on as Ari contemplates getting out of his car to stretch his legs. It’s another several minutes before Bucky is back on the line, and this time he sounds positively exhausted.

“We can’t afford to lose this one, man. Westbrook might be a piece of shit, but he’s an expensive piece of shit. So while I don’t care how you feel about the girl, you need to make things right. She could have some valuable intel.”

“Yeah, I know.” His mood darkens as he flicks the cigarette onto the pavement. As he watches it hit the ground, he finds himself wondering if it was finally time to quit the cancer sticks altogether. It’s not like he hadn’t thought about it before.

“Besides, what do you care if she was Westbrook’s fuck buddy?” Ari’s treated to the sound of his friend unwrapping something that sounded suspiciously like a candy bar. There was only one person who was known to keep that stuff at the office.

Which meant that shit had better not come from his personal stash, otherwise Bucky Barnes was a fucking dead man.

“I don’t.” Ari growls, sucking on his teeth. “And that had better not be a Clark Bar you’re eatin'.”

“Hate to break it to ya, pal. But based on what you told me earlier, it kinda sounds like you might.” There’s an unmistakable sound of a grin in his voice, which irks the bounty hunter to no end.

“And I think it’s finally time you got your hearing checked, old man.” He growls back, although his words lack any real fire.

“As for your precious Clark Bars,” he continues. “See, normally I’d pass on ‘em. But Pixie’s been on a health kick lately and she threw out all the junk food. So, I’m desperate.” Bucky gives an exaggerated groan. “Plus, she has no idea about your stash.”

“Jesus.” Ari grumbles, firing up his engine with the intent to head back to the house he was currently renting. “I really wish you two would just suck face already and get it over with.”

“Mind your fucking business, Levinson.”

“Then keep your filthy hands off my fuckin’ Clark Bars, Barnes.” There’s a heavy sigh on the other line, prompting Ari to roll his eyes. All he wanted was for this conversation to fucking end.

“Look.” Bucky grunts. “You bring down this Westbrook fucker and I’ll buy you a goddamned case of those stupid bars. Alright?”

“You got yourself a deal.” Turning on his truck, Ari slowly heads for the exit as his stomach begins to rumble. Maybe he’d track down some shrimp to go with that steak.

“And fix whatever it is you fucked up with that bookstore broad while you’re at it.”

“I’ll do my best.” He grimaces as his mind treats him to images of you threatening him with your taser. “But if that little spitfire puts me in the hospital you’re footin’ the bill.” And with that, Ari hangs up the phone.

As of now, he was officially done for the night.

A Few Days Later…

You’re sitting on the floor of your stockroom when you hear the tinkling of bells signaling the arrival of a customer. Groaning as you rise to your feet, you wipe your palms on the fabric of your pants and head to the front of the store.

Business had been unusually slow today, so hopefully this patron - whoever they were - would be in the mood to buy something. As you were driving in this morning, you’d briefly considered holding another sale. Maybe it was time for another book fair. That seemed to be pretty popular the last time you’d done it.

You’re in the middle of making a mental note to reach out to the local librarian when your eyes land on the absolute last person you wanted to see standing in your lobby: Ari Levinson.

Not this guy again.

“Yeah, it’s me.” He says, offering up an unapologetic shrug as he takes in the sight of you in your form-fitting yoga pants.

Apparently you’d spoken out loud. Perhaps if you kept doing it, the man would eventually get offended enough to leave. Wishful thinking at its finest.

When the intruder realizes you don’t plan on speaking again, he decides to take advantage of the silence by doing something completely unexpected.

“I just dropped by to, uh…” He takes a deep breath, rocking back on his heels. “Apologize for how our last meeting went. While it wasn’t my intention to insult you, I know that I did.” One big hand comes up to massage the back of his neck. “Just wanted to offer that, for whatever it’s worth.”

“Oh. Wow.” You reply dumbly, crossing your arms over your chest. For whatever reason, you got the distinct impression that he didn’t make apologies often.

“You’re right, sweetheart. I don’t.” His lips turn up in an awkward grin as he takes a step toward you. “But a real man knows how to own up to his shit, which is exactly what I’m doin right now.”

“Okay.”

Mouth suddenly dry, you go to take a step back, only to find that your legs no longer work. Next thing you know, Ari is in your space, his boot clad feet are now mere centimeters from your well-loved sneakers as he towers over you.

He holds out his hand as a gesture of goodwill, silently imploring you to take it. Your eyes lock with his as yours moves on its own accord – almost as if you’d been entranced.

Your hand feels so small and delicate in his grasp. And for a second, you wonder what it might be like to lace your fingers together. How it would feel to hold onto him so intimately for just a few seconds longer. You sneak a glance up at Ari, only to watch as his pupils dilate, his nostrils flaring just slightly. It’s enough to let you know that you’re not the only one affected.

“You think we might be able to try this again?” His deep baritone washes over you like a balm. “You have my word I’ll do a much better job of, uh, keeping myself in check.”

Yanking your hand away, all you can do is nod. Part of you almost wished the man would go back to acting like an asshole. At least then you would know how to handle him. This so-called charming and apologetic Ari was a different beast entirely.

“I–” You swallow thickly. “Yes, that’s fine.”

“Thank you for your kindness.” His easy smile has the nerve to do funny things to the butterflies in your belly. “And while I would hate to do anything that might spoil this good will, I would like to ask you a couple of questions right now.”

Instantly suspicious, you open your mouth to deliver a curt “no”. However, having already anticipated this, Ari is quick to amend his request by promising not to be too invasive. He also insists that he’ll follow your lead.

“If at any moment you want to stop, we’ll stop. You have my word on that too, darlin’.” He surveys the room, absentmindedly scratching at his jaw. “You good with me ensuring we have a little privacy?” Again you nod, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible.

Because at this point, it just didn’t make sense to kick the man out. Especially not when he seemed to be taking great pains to be respectful. You could only hope that he’d appreciate your cooperation enough to go bother someone else when you were through.

Maybe it might be worth leading him back towards someone who’d actually appreciate his attention. Someone like your would-be frenemy, Charline Marshall.

Seemingly encouraged by your response, the invasive bounty hunter hustles towards the door so that he could flip your sign from open to closed. And, unbeknownst to him, it also gives you a chance to begrudgingly appreciate just how good his ass looks in his Levi’s.

Alright. So maybe you’d hold off on feeding Ari Levinson to Charline and her disciples – at least for right now.

“You know.” You cough, needing to give yourself a moment to recalibrate before you said or did something dumb. “I actually just remembered that I needed to fix a couple of things around the shop during my lunch break.”

An unruffled Ari simply smiles and winks back at you. “Thought you said you believed in your ability to multitask?”

You resist the urge to stick your tongue out at the smug bastard. Because he was right. You absolutely had said that. And then he’d had the gall to fucking listen.

“Fine.” Shooting him a glare, you head over to the counter and toe-off your shoes.

“Appreciate it, darlin’.”

Just like last time, out comes his pen and tiny notebook. He flips it open to a new page before giving you his full attention. Meanwhile, you’re now hellbent on acting like he doesn’t exist.

“How long have you owned your shop, Baubles & Quills?”

If you were to look in his eyes at that moment, you would’ve seen them shining with genuine inquisitiveness. Almost as if he actually wanted to get to know you.

“A few years.” You reply, bracing your hands on the flat surface of the desk. “I spent a large part of my childhood here, buried amongst books. My uncle left it to me when he passed. But I’m sure you already knew that.”

Taking a deep breath, you send up a silent prayer to the Lord asking him not to let you fall before hefting yourself onto the counter with all the grace you can muster.

“Maybe.” Ari concedes while jotting something down on his notepad. “But it’s different coming from – just what the hell are you doin’ woman?!”

“Checking out this light fixture.” You huff as you work to steady yourself.

“Any reason you couldn’t do that from the ground?” The bounty hunter surprises you by sounding more than a little stressed.

Confused by his response, you manage to spare a quick glance in his direction. Although your unlikely companion looks less than happy, you fail to fully grasp the nature of the problem.

“Because I couldn’t quite tell if this whole panel was out, or just the one little section.”

“Alright, well…” He drags an agitated hand through his already messy brown locks. “Now that you’ve seen it, how about you come on down from there?”

“Oh my goodness, Levinson.” An exasperated chuckle bubbles its way from your throat. “It’s just the counter. Save the freakout for when you find me on the flippin’ roof or something.”

“You’re standin’ on the damned thing wearin’ nothing but socks. It’s like you’re askin’ to fall.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic.”

“How the hell is my expressin’ concern about your safety bein’ dramatic?”

“Next question, buddy.” You have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing at the affronted look on the bounty hunter’s gorgeous face.

Ari forces himself to take a breath before attempting to return back to the task at hand. “I have it here that your Uncle is the late Lenny Barstowe. He was, by all accounts, an upstanding pillar of this community.”

“He was.” You agree, bending down to grab the duster resting near your feet.

“You say he was your uncle, and yet you two don’t share the same last name.” He frowns when he notices your slight wobble.

And for the tenth time in almost as many minutes he finds himself wondering why the fuck you didn’t hire someone to take care of shit like this for you? Hell, give him a ladder and a free afternoon and he’d handle things himself.

“Wow. Nothing gets past you.” You sniff, trying to fight back a sneeze as dust goes flying. “They teach you those observation skills in private detective school?”

“Sure did.” Ari snorts without missing a beat, tucking the pen behind his ear. “First thing on the syllabus, in fact.”

“Thought so.”

“So glad we cleared that up.”

You can’t stop the small thrill that courses through you when you notice the newfound tick in his jaw. If you weren’t careful, you could find yourself growing addicted to that little zing in your blood. To that tiny spike in your pulse you felt every time you two sparred.

“But if we could go back to your uncle, I’m sure losing him had to be hard – what with him being your only family.” He takes a turn fanning himself with his notebook. ”Was your friend, Martin, there for you during that difficult time?”

That particular question actually makes you pause and reflect. You’d been so lost in grief back then, which is part of the reason it had taken you so long to claw your way out of that dark hole. And, if memory served, you’d done that majority of that clawing on your own.

“I’m sure he was around, Mr. Levinson.” Your answer sounds cagey, even to your own ears. “But I pretty much wore my grief like a sweater back then. And if I’m being honest, those first few months after losing him were nothing but a miserable haze.”

“I know the feeling.” He murmurs as he scribbles on the page.

“Look.” You blow out a breath as you attempt to gauge the distance between the desk and the ground. As of this moment, you officially regretted not grabbing your step stool. “I don’t know where Martin is or who he’s running from. All I know is that he was scared, but he refused to tell me anything more, okay?”

“Did he ask you for money?”

“Yes.”

He’d also called you too. And while you choose to keep that little detail to yourself, you figure there was no harm in telling him about the money. At the time you’d had no idea you were potentially aiding and abetting a criminal. Or maybe you just hadn’t wanted to believe it.

“And did you give it to him?” The intense look in his beautiful blue eyes has you suddenly feeling foolish.

“Yes.”

It’s that one word, spoken barely above a whisper, that leaves Ari shaking his head. His gaze drops to the ground as he works to rein-in his temper. You have no idea what a struggle it is for him to do so – because he’s not upset with you.

If anything, you’d just given him one more reason to run that slippery motherfucker into the goddamned ground.

“How much did he get you for?” Even though Ari has calmed himself considerably, his tone still comes off harsher than he intends.

“Almost $500.” You tell him, your face hot with embarrassment. “I suppose I should’ve asked more questions. You probably think I’m an idiot for –”

“It’s okay, darlin’.” He swiftly interjects, not wanting you to get upset. “You’re doin’ so great bein’ honest with me right now.” Unsure of what else to do, he tosses his notebook aside in favor of reaching for your hand. “I know this shit ain’t easy.”

“I think I’m done for now.” You tell him, doing your best to avoid looking at your now joined hands. God, he really needed to stop doing that. “Please.”

“Okay.” He readily agrees as his thumb strokes along the ridge of your knuckles. “Then we’re done.” You watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallows. “Are you gonna let me help you down off the counter before you kick me out?”

“It’s okay. Don’t want you to hurt yourself.” You mumble as you busy yourself with trying to figure out the easiest way to sit and scootch your way out of your current situation.

The last thing you needed was this man accidentally throwing out his back over some misplaced chivalry.

To his credit, Ari decides to ignore your feeble protests. “C’mon and let me help you.” He repeats, gesturing for you to step towards the edge of the counter so that he can grab you by the waist. “And then I’ll be on my way.”

“Really, I’m fine.” You attempt to swat at his hands, which doesn’t actually work.

“C’mon, darlin’.” He assures you gently. “Just trust me.” The next thing you know, you’re suddenly being lifted into the air. “I got you.”

“Ack – I’m too heavy!” You squeal, immediately caught off guard by the way your legs briefly dangle in the air. Try as you might, you honestly could not remember the last time a man had picked you up.

Your heart speeds up as he effortlessly sets you down on your feet, allowing your body to slide down the solid wall of his chest. Instinctively, your hands fly to his biceps in an effort to steady yourself.

“Thank you.” You’re suddenly having a hard time breathing around this man. “But you really shouldn’t have done that. You could’ve hurt –”

“Sweetheart, you ain’t nothin’ but a feather.” Ari rumbles, his hands still resting firmly on your hips.

“Somehow I doubt that.” You whisper, knowing that you should demand that he let you go. Except your body is too busy buzzing to actually cooperate.

“Happy to prove you wrong any time.” While you suspect that he hadn’t really meant to say that, his smile is full of promise. “But right now, I’m afraid I’ve gotta head out.” Although it still takes another second for him to release you.

Not that you’re complaining any. Which deep down you know could spell trouble for you.

Before he leaves, however, Ari reaches into the front pocket of his jeans to hand you what looks a lot like a business card. “What’s this?” You mentally smack yourself in the forehead the moment the question leaves your mouth.

“My card.” He responds as he now heads toward the door. “That’s my cell, just in case you need it.”

“Oh.”

“Call any time, day or night.” Ari’s gruff, no-nonsense tone goes straight to your core. “You remember somethin’ about Martin? Call me. You lookin’ for someone to stand guard while you lock up at night? Call me. You need to hear a friendly voice in the dark? Fucking call me.”

His offer takes you by surprise. So much so, that you’re temporarily rendered speechless as you clutch the stiff piece of paper in your palm. While you weren’t sure if you’d ever take him up on his offer, you could certainly appreciate his generosity.

“Thank you.” You rasp, your teeth going to nibble at your bottom lip.

“Any time, Duchess.” His head dips politely as he exits through the front door. “I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

And just like that he was gone, which meant you could finally breathe normally again. Strange butterflies once again fill your belly as you take your time examining the card your bounty hunter had left behind. While you weren’t sure if you’d ever call him, you decide it’s worth tucking into a zippered pocket in your purse before getting on with the rest of your day.

Little did you know that you would come to need that tiny piece of paper sooner rather than later…

END

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saerins · 1 year

Text

─── 𝐄𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓

+ nagi seishiro x f!reader | wc 3.2k | content: fluff, ngl i was too lazy to proof this, childhood friends to lovers, canon-compliant (i tried), yn’s parents are just bad

notes: me ?? writing someone other than sae ?? wild . but it’s my first try at nagi so pls have mercy :’) feedbacks/reblogs appreciated !! <3

summary: it’s a little more difficult for nagi to realise his feelings compared to the average man.

i. fleeting moment

nagi seishiro was your first kiss, age ten on the swings of your backyard.

you’re only friends by chance. he was a loner on the swings in the public playground and you have a habit of picking up strays. (but until then, it had been limited to animals and not humans.)

yeah, yeah, maybe having a first kiss at the young age of ten is a little alarming, but it’s not like nagi is a bad person. if anything, he was just trying to shut you up. probably, maybe. (and it wasn’t with tongue, if anyone needs the specifics.)

“if you keep crying that loudly i won’t be able to hear my game,” nagi grumbled, eyes glued to his screen. apparently he was playing some pseudo horror game where four fighters run from a single hunter and apparently he needed to listen to the sounds to know when to run.

but really, you were ten and crying because some other boy bullied you in the playground, saying how you were so ugly and that no boy would ever wanna kiss you. given all of that, why would you even care about nagi’s stupid game?

if he didn’t want to be bothered, he shouldn’t have chased you all the way back home.

“but seishiro, am i really ugly?” you were ten and in need of immediate validation while nagi was in need of your immediate silence.

he didn’t even look up. “that’s subjective.”

even when he was young he had a smart mouth that would be able to break you.

“well then what do you think?” because honestly, even at that point, you thought nagi seishiro was handsome; he was the face claim you used to imagine all your scenarios at night before you went to sleep.

he was your knight in shining armor, coming to break you free from the cage which was your life and obligations. he was your prince charming who’d rescue you above all else. heck, sometimes he was mario and you were princess peach.

seishiro groaned when the screen shows game over and honestly, he really did think it was all your fault because he couldn’t hear anything over your incessant wailing. but then he looked at you for the first time after you cried and had the recurring thought that he didn’t want to be the reason for you to keep on crying.

“yeah, you’re pretty.”

and he puts his lips on yours like it’s no big deal.

ii. unreciprocated

fifteen is when you’re most rebellious. it’s a sickness you get from none other than mikage reo.

your family and the mikages go way back. they’d been family friends for such a long time. a part of you feels it’s not genuine, blinded by the fact that they’re always business partners and everything else stemmed from that one simple fact.

you started to play hooky from business dinners, started to say fuck off to rude old geasers who truly didn’t deserve a single dime they got.

all you ever got in return was your father’s temper and your mother’s cowardice and reo’s praises. most of all you at least had nagi’s shoulder to cry on. (he’s learned to bring along his earpiece just in case he had to meet you or accidentally bumped into you.)

“they all sicken me,” was what reo told you when you asked about his family in relation to their business. you could sympathise. sometimes all you could feel from your parents were that they treated you as a next-in-line rather than just daughter. and almost everyone around you made you feel like you were just a moneybag.

what reo felt shouldn’t have been too far off. except you thought he had it better; at least all his parents did was try to spoil him while not-so-subtly training him up to be the next ceo. he at least didn’t suffer at the hands of foul tempers and verbal abuse.

no one should have to.

“oh shit! i gotta go soon,” you realised, noticing that it was almost six and you’d made plans with nagi.

reo cocked a brow, “y/n l/n, you have other friends?”

you knew he was joking, but that didn’t stop you from landing the hardest punch you could on his arms. “hey, i’m not that inept at socialising okay?”

sure, you’d started taking caution with making friends because most of them were just after one thing: money. even at this age. which is crazy to you, at least, but you felt you had no right to think that. not when all the money you wanted was still at your disposal.

but you weren’t actually bad at making friends. it was just that maybe most people weren’t even worth the effort.

“they’re good to you, right?”

you took a moment to decide before you eventually nodded. “yeah, for sure.”

nagi was… weird, for you. but in the good sense. yeah, he’d open his mouth and ask you for money which at least told you he was honest. even if you rejected him, though, he was still beside you.

“man, what a hassle,” he grumbled when you wouldn’t buy any more food. he was broke, which meant he couldn’t eat anymore too if you didn’t buy some.

the two of you still never talked about that kiss. it never happened again, to your dismay.

you were a teen, and screw stupid teen hormones for driving you to ask him.

“hey sei, we’re good friends, right?”

“huh?” nagi was already fixated on his phone. probably some new game you didn’t know about. his earpieces were ready, around his neck. “uh, i guess?”

but that was not good enough for your feisty fifteen-year-old self.

“sei, i’m serious! would you be sad if one day we weren’t friends anymore?”

back then you didn’t know what you were doing. back then you didn’t think to yourself what it was, really, that you were trying to get out of him. maybe it was validation, and maybe it was just boredom.

you really just wanted to know nagi cared.

all he did was shrug, brows furrowed in annoyance. “that’s life, isn’t it? sometimes friends drift and sometimes they don’t.”

throwing wisdom around as if that was what you needed. and it was unfair to expect anything out of nagi as it was, but that didn’t stop you from throwing a tantrum and storming off.

(he watched you as you left, and there was something unsettling about the sight of your back moving so far away.)

iii. turning point

the world is small.

when you were sixteen you realised that the so called treasure reo told you he found was a human, who so happened to be your friend—nagi seishiro.

teeny tiny.

they also both happened to be picked by the JFU to go to blue lock. which you only found out after they’d both been gone for a week.

it didn’t surprise you though—they were both talented. it was only right they got picked. though, they also happened to be the only two people you would hang out with, so by default you felt lonely.

but at sixteen you’d learned to suck it up, hide your feelings. everything was okay—as long as you deceived yourself so. your parents were the same; overbearing and breathing down your neck and now that reo was not around for you and nagi couldn’t be your confidant, it felt much worse than usual.

everything was a transaction and you felt suffocated. it made you appreciate nagi’s unfiltered honesty and reo’s unwavering loyalty to whatever you dedicated yourself to.

“at least that reo boy has some other talents like that foolish soccer he plays,” your father berated over dinner. “and here my daughter is, good for nothing yet expects us to believe her when she says she can make a living outside of our company.”

and if you’d had other close friends, they would’ve told you that sixteen was too young to be sure what you wanted to do for the rest of your life. they’d have said your parents were unreasonable and that they were the fools.

but you didn’t. and the only friends you had weren’t around. so you ate it up. you clenched your fists where your parents couldn’t see and let them run their mouth. or, in your mother’s case, stay silent while your father made unreasonable arguments.

“and that nagi boy you hang out with,” your father turned his focus to him, “all he reeks of is laziness. i don’t get why you have to hang out with him all the time. inviting that oaf into our house like he’s welcome.”

that time your fists hit the table and you didn’t even expect it. it hurt because of how hard you hit but nothing could beat the hurt your father inflicted on your heart.

you found you couldn’t say anything, only because your father’s eyes were wide with rage at your outburst and you were still the same scared girl inside at age four when he first raised his voice at you.

“i-i’m sorry,” you choked out, which was pathetic but you didn’t want to end up murdered in your own house.

your father scoffed. “get your stupid head out of your ass or you’re cut off.”

the only time you could do that was when nagi and reo finally got their first break out of blue lock. you occupied their time for the most of it, listened to them going on and on about the matches that went on inside. though reo seemed a little mad at nagi, a little awkward around him, for some reason you weren’t privy to.

“i’m gonna head home first,” and reo was gone with the wave of a hand, something about having to settle something at home—probably nothing good.

maybe it was the lovestruck idiot in you talking, but you’d made peace with the fact that maybe you had a small crush on nagi seishiro, judging by how you acted around him. maybe it was that idiot that made you want to spend all of his free time together.

“guess i’ll see you tomorrow too?” sue you, you were just trying to shoot your shot.

nagi put his phone in his pocket, for once, and you were struggling to remain standing as he held eye contact with you, calm gray eyes the bane of your existence. “mmm can’t, gotta meet isagi and the rest.”

isagi, a name you’d just learned earlier—apparently nagi thought he was strong and chose his team. maybe that was why reo was mad.

“oh, okay then.” you’d ask for the next day, but you didn’t want to get rejected twice. besides, nagi would probably just prefer playing games and resting at home. you were just friends, after all.

“was thinking we could get dinner though,” nagi told you, hands in his pockets as the both of you walked down the street.

that was the first time he ever extended an effort, you remember. and suddenly life wasn’t that bad anymore.

it was also the first time nagi asked you to feed him, not because he was playing some game but on purpose.

and you didn’t know how it turned out that way, but he ended up taking up all of your time. it was the only reason you had the ability to fill him in on your family, and he actually listened. and, like reo, he said “fuck them.”

maybe that was the point you realised maybe he did care.

but for a girl at seventeen just concerned with romance and happiness, it was paradise—until of course he went back to blue lock, taking your heart with him.

(what you both failed to realise was that he left his with you.)

iv. slow realisation

in the bleachers of his first match out of blue lock, nagi seishiro spots you easily in the front row—wearing his jersey and number, when did you buy that?

doesn’t change the fact that nagi likes seeing it on you. he’s not familiar with the feeling, but it’s equivalent to saying you like him the most, which feels great if he’s honest to himself.

what he doesn’t like is the guy next to you. sharp jawline and spiky hair wearing a business suit and his raven eyes are always peeking at you out of the corner. does he like you?

but the whistle blows and nagi forgets about you for a little over ninety minutes. he’s going to show you he can win this, with you watching from the front row, and he’ll show you why he’s the best and that other guys in business suits don’t matter.

after the game reo makes a big deal out of the fact you’re wearing nagi’s jersey and not his, and nagi finds out the guy with you was someone your dad wanted to hook you up with.

twisted business marriages.

“i’m just going out with him to shut my father up,” you admit to nagi when you’re both finally alone. (aka, after you’ve convinced reo to pry him away and leave you two alone.)

nagi’s not used to this. what’s this relief he feels? “oh, good to know,” is all he says because he doesn’t even understand himself.

he isn’t even sure why he’s here in the first place, walking you home. he’s not sure why reo left when he could’ve driven all of you home instead of just mr business-suit-guy.

“how’s it feel now, to be mr popular?” you’re not even sure why you’re asking. maybe because you feel like the gap between you and nagi grew so wide in such a short period of time and you’d do anything to hear him say that he’s still the same seishiro you knew.

your seishiro.

nagi only shrugs, “dunno. don’t really feel the difference.”

because really, apart from the fact that he’s much more busy, he’s still him—playing games when he’s free, texting you because that happens to fall in the list of things he likes to do now, and well, the only difference he feels is—he takes a peek to his side—you, somehow.

not because of anything you do in particular, but he feels different somehow. and he can’t make sense of it. he never can. how’s he supposed to? no one ever warned him about shit like this.

“uh, nagi? have you ever thought that maybe you like her?” reo tells him over the phone later that night, a little baffled by the things his usually detached friend just told him.

“you like her too though,” nagi retorts.

reo sighs, wondering how nagi ever made it to where he is. “not in the same way.”

“what do you mean?”

“figure it out yourself.”

nagi hangs up, thinking he already has it figured out. he also thinks reo will keep his mouth shut.

he doesn’t.

v. requited

it’s funny how reo rushed to call you that night, right after nagi basically told him (without saying it explicitly) that he has a crush on you.

but it’s also funny how it’s been three months since then and nagi still hasn’t said anything about it. you play ignorant around him, waiting and waiting for him to admit it himself.

evidently it’s not working.

tonight you’re just watching him on the screen, cheering him on from the other side of the world because despite being from a rich family you can’t just up and leave to another country as and when you feel like it.

besides, you’ve made peace with your parents; you’d learn about the family business willingly as long as they stopped interfering with your personal life. they surprisingly agreed.

nagi and reo win, as you expected, and as usual, the cameras trail their team as they celebrate on the field, their captain having tore his shirt off to celebrate that they’d won the tournament. it’s not long before the camera pans back to nagi, a few reporters already surrounding him.

“so nagi, how do you feel right now?”

“great,” he answers, with a sexy amount of enthusiasm. he’s rarely ever enthused, but you find it so much more attractive when he is.

nagi has his phone in his hand, you notice, and you immediately fish for yours. he’d texted you right before they started hounding him.

are you watching?

you smile as you type back.

no. congrats on becoming champions! 🫶🏼

“nagi nagi, who would you like to dedicate this win to?” the reporters are all clambering to get a chance to question him.

“oh i don’t know,” nagi says, and you catch him looking at your message before looking back at the camera. “i guess i’ll dedicate this one to this girl i like.”

you nearly spit out your drink.

“wait, does this mean you’re involved with someone? tell us, who is it!”

all the reporters get excited, and understandably, since nagi’s probably just about given them the biggest scoop for the month. they’re all looking at him, money signs in their eyes, while your jaw drops open as he overshares with the entire world.

“oh, y/n l/n, she’s been my friend since forever and i don’t know… i kinda like her a lot,” he’s saying all this earnestly, a hand scratching his neck and a blush creeping on his face, though he doesn’t look the least bit fazed.

you rush to find his chat thread.

nagi, what the fuck!!!

you did NOT just say my name on live tv!!!

on the screen, he openly looks at your messages before typing a reply as the reporters hound him for more details.

oh shit, m i not supposed to?

“nagi, is she the one texting you right now?”

and like the honest guy he is, he nods. “oh yeah, think she’s mad at me right now.”

you curl up under your blanket, flustered because nagi is way too open and way too precious.

“would you like to say anything here to her now?”

nagi looks off camera and hums in contemplation before finally deciding on a response.

“hey y/n, tomorrow i’m gonna make you mine okay? so just wait for me.”

reo finally drags him away and towards the rest of his team and his interview ends there. you switch the television off, half mortified and half flattered. your phone blows up with most of your contacts gushing over what nagi said.

leave it up to nagi seishiro to have feelings for you, not realise it until years later, not tell you in the whole three months before this and yet announces it and your full name to the entire world on live television.

in spite of how flabbergasted you are, there’s a warm sensation blooming underneath your chest, a comfort that you’ve always been looking for finally fulfilled. there’s a certain endearment in the way nagi realises and professes his feelings.

you pull up his messages again.

you better keep your word, sei.

it doesn’t take him long to respond.

don’t worry, i’ll make you mine.

#bllk x reader #nagi x reader #nagi seishiro x reader #blue lock x reader #nagi x you #nagi x y/n #nagi fluff #bllk fluff #nagi imagines #bllk imagines #blue lock fluff #nagi seishiro fluff #bllk nagi x reader #nagi seishiro x you #nagi seishiro x y/n #૪ aeri’s fics !

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lainsshop · 4 months

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I’m Your Man ୨ৎ

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Tags: angst(?), established relationship, out of character(?) n probably more..

Song: I’m Your Man - Mitski

A/N: i really don’t know about this one.. give me your thoughts tho!

Alastor is known as a huge narcissist, sure but you were the only one who got to see the “real” him, not only the real murderous side of him but also the soft spot he has for you. You made him feel.. weak?

Ever since you two got together, he view you as you were apart of him like an accessory but also much more than that, his lover. He absolutely adored you, you really accepted his flaw self even if he doesn’t admit he doesn’t have flaws.

He never wanted to admit to so many things cause he believes one second of him showing his weak self will make his enemies aware of that and it will put him and yourself in even more danger.

You were also the only one who got to see him in a vulnerable state, which is rare to be honest. Maybe he doesn’t wanna worry you, he really doesn’t but every time he’s in that state he would always come to you and you will listen to his words.

“You’re an angel, I’m a dog,” He started to slowly say as you two were in the hotels library. The door was locked, the sound of rain and fire cracking could be heard and a sweet slow tune next to you as you play with his hair and ears carefully.

“… or your dog and I’m your man.” There was times were he gets.. poetic in some way. Luckily, you knew what the meaning of his words meant.

He didn’t looked at you in the eyes. “You believe me like a God,” He continued. “I’ll destroy you like I am-” Oh, he could. He could easily hurt you in a second, he doesn’t tho. You being so near to him is like a risk to both of you cause he never hesitates to do anything. Like that night..

“I’m sorry I’m the one you love..” You see, you two met when you were alive, you were a lil bit younger than him by that time and he involved you into his weird habits like killing people, cannibalism, so much more and then your death..

Deep down, he blamed himself for that. That night, he took you into the woods to hide a body, usually it went well but then you guys got mistaken as a deer and the hunter got you first.. he looked at you dead body and then- he woke up in hell.

He couldn’t even process what happened in that exact moment so when he appeared in hell, he wasn’t surprised at all but then he remembered you. He genuinely thought you went to heaven but then again.. you helped him so he looked around.

“No one will ever love me like you again, my dear,” He finally looked at you as he grabbed you hand and gave it a small kiss. “So when you leave me, I should die.. I deserve it, don’t I?”

You froze a bit at that. You looked at him with a surprised, shocked and worried expression. “Al-” “I can feel it gettin’ near like flashlights comin’..” You wanted to tell him how much you meant you him, how even if he’s not the affectionate type or how much of a bad he is, you still loved him ever since the day you met but-

“One day, you’ll figure me out..” There was apart him that you really didn’t knew and he feared that. He feared that one day you’ll know more about him, more deeper about him and leave him. You knew his murderous way, yes but do you actually?

“I’ll meet judgement by the hounds,” A silent scratchy static could be heard as he said the last word. He was still smiling as he spoke.

“You always gave me love, you were never to blame after all, mon ange..” He looked at you with a bit of sad soft eyes as he cups your cheek and his thumb strokes your under eye.

The sudden sound of dogs start to appear outside in the rain. You two looked at each other as you had watery eyes trying not to get emotional or anything. There was silence between you two until-

“You believe me like a God-” A tear fell down your cheek. You suddenly hug him, not too tight, just enough to show him that you cared about him and you didn’t care how he really is.

He started to caress your hair. “I’ll betray you like a man.”

#alastor x reader #alastor #hazbin hotel

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sirdindjarin · 1 year

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The Concession - Din Djarin x f!Reader

gif from @rebeljyn 's gifset here

Din Djarin falls in love. Whoops.

The Savior / The Concession / The Choice (END)

AO3 Link

TAGS: S2 Din Djarin, "Who Did This to You?", P in V, Unprotected Sex w/o consequences because who likes those, m!Masturbation, Fluff, Pining, touch-starved!Din, helmet-less!Din, soft!Din, protective!Din, Grogu bein a sweet shit.

WARNINGS: Star Wars cursing/slang which I know annoys some people lmao, abusive shopkeepers.

A/N: "Shit" is Star Wars canon (thank you, Andor); Din is a groaner (Chapter 5 of TBOBF); & Din is a bit of a poet (thanks pledge to Bo-Katan in Chapter 23); I have cited my sources LOL.

"No," the Mandalorian snaps. "No droids."

A gloved hand flies to his holster and the rusty pit droids screech to a halt, beeping nervously.

Leaning against the frame of the Razor Crest, at the top of the boarding ramp, you roll your eyes at Din Djarin's back. His distaste for droids had been made clear to you the first time he'd stopped for parts.

Those droids had been considerably less polite about Din’s preference, and he had taken too much pleasure in enforcing it.

"Listen, buddy, they're my refueling dr-"

"Then I'll take my business elsewhere."

The attendant sighs loudly, glaring at the Mandalorian. The skinny, maroon male with a fin-shaped head rises from his chair behind his workshop desk. He walks toward a shaking pit droid and grabs the refueler.

"It'll cost you extra," the attendant's eye-stalks narrow at the bounty hunter.

Din comes to an agreement with the disgruntled worker, sullenly agreeing to a slightly higher rate.

As the Mandalorian keeps watch over his ship, your footsteps clang down the steep ramp, and you sidle up to him, saying, "We need some things. Ration packs are gone. And - don't tell him -" your voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper, "But I think Grogu deserves a treat."

"He would agree with you.” Din’s elbow brushes your shoulder, and he realizes he’d leaned closer as you spoke.

You continue, “And you need something to relax.”

At that, Din’s helmet turns. “I do not.”

“You’re even more impatient than usual. You’re on an anti-droid campaign; the last time we stopped, you threatened to yank out one’s navigator circuits just for bumping your foot.” You look up at him, raising a teasing eyebrow.

The Mandalorian goes as still as one of those droids he had deactivated. His intimidating, T-shaped slit brands into your vision. Behind it, you know he’s boring holes into your face.

“Alright. Nothing for you, then.”

Your shoulders drop when you turn away from him, almost relieved to be out from underneath his piercing, hidden gaze.

The Mandalorian had paid you a few days before, and this was your first real opportunity to spend your own money. You can’t stop smiling, even as you place the kid in his white pod and stuff your pocket with your credits. Grogu is as excited as you are - giggling in his quiet way.

As you pass the statue of Din Djarin, he extends a closed fist. Obediently, you hold out your hand. The tan-hide fingers of his gloves open and credits fall, clinking. You look up questioningly at him.

“For the food. Your wages are not meant to be spent on communal necessities.”

Your lips curve into a lopsided, sweet smile that Din immediately commits to memory, and you nod.

Turning to Grogu, his fuzzy ears perked and eyes wide, you ask, “Ready, kid?”

***

The marketplace is huge. Stretching the length of the entire square, it’s busy for a planet this remote, but the size increases the options.

Grogu floats along beside you, and you keep one hand on the lip of the pod, just to be safe. The responsibility of the kid is the greatest charge you’ve ever been given, in more ways than one. Grogu often holds your hand or squeaks to get your attention to point at something glowing or stinky or flashing. His outright affection is a lamp to your lonely heart.

After visiting several vendors, you’ve resupplied what was necessary (with credits left over), and now you move on to something for Grogu. You’d be buying that with your own wages. Din could say whatever he liked, but what else do you have to spend your money on except the cute baby?

You walk past a booth advertising repair supplies, but when you realize it’s for clothing repair, something clicks in your brain. Grogu’s ears flop forward with your sudden stop. Your eyes run over the objects, and you select some, a smile splitting your face. You hope he will be pleased.

Several minutes later, Grogu makes a bah! sound, pointing at a live amphibian display. You’re pretty sure it’s a pet vendor, but the look on the kid’s face tells you he won’t take no for an answer. And maybe you should parent him - tell him no - but that’s Din’s job, not yours.

“Hi. How much for the frog eggs?” You politely ask the vendor, digging in your pocket for credits.

The bug-eyed lady tells you in a language you don’t speak, but she holds up three short tentacles on her hand. She pushes six eggs toward you, which you gratefully take and set in Grogu’s pod.

When you try to hand her the credits, she’s pushed out of the way by someone behind her. A man with a smushed nose yells in the same language the lady had spoken, and points away, clearly telling her to leave.

You watch warily, and once the woman has gone, the man turns to you.

“My apologies. The price is one credit per egg,” he simpers at you.

Disliking the hike in price, you move to return half of the eggs, but he protests, “Once the item has left my possession, they must be paid for.”

“But I can give them back to you,” you assert. “I’m not paying that much for frog eggs.”

His smushed nose twitches up like a feral Loth-wolf, “Yes, you are.”

"I'm not." You set three eggs back on the counter.

The man seizes your wrists, holding you in place. The crowded market is loud, but your indignant cry and the vendor's screamed accusation of theft cause several people to stop and watch.

You try to twist out of his hold, but his scaly skin tears at yours. The snarling vendor suddenly ceases making noise, and he releases your wrists to clutch at his throat. Shocked, your head snaps to the child.

Grogu has one little, three-fingered hand raised and curled.

“No!” You gasp, slamming the button on Grogu’s pod to close it. Far, far too many eyes watch.

The vendor, choking and sputtering, recovers quickly and lunges at you across the table. His hands grip your upper arms, but you wrench out of his hold. Hoping to draw all attention to yourself, you punch the vendor with all your might. The vendor stumbles.

“Never seen someone pretend to choke over three credits,” your lie is an incredibly lame one, but you hope it’s enough for passersby.

He clutches his jaw; his spat insult is garbled, and he begins to inch around the long table, trying to get a better shot at you.

You turn and walk away with as even a pace as you can manage. Running would make his accusation true. The crowd swallows the two of you up well, and you lengthen your stride.

But the vendor is regaining his volume. Nervously, you check over your shoulder. You jolt when Grogu’s pod bumps into your hip, then zooms away.

“No,” you yell again, grasping for the white vessel, but it comes to a hovering stop in front of a tall, silver man.

“Thank the Maker,” you sigh with relief. “We have to go.”

Din immediately notices the red ring of heat around your wrists and along your knuckles. He strides toward you. The closer he gets, the safer you feel - his protective aura slowly engulfing you.

Din grabs your forearm and examines your wrist. There’s a raw quality to your skin where the man’s abrasive hands had clamped down and twisted. After a moment, his face locks onto yours.

“Show me who did this."

Cold, calm, his words are a promise.

Confused by his reaction, and still so used to answering when asked a direct question, you wince over your shoulder. Din finally seems to hear the vendor shouting in the distance as he searches the crowd for a ‘thief’ and her ‘dangerous pet’. Din abruptly straightens and steps past you.

Running after him, you reach for his gloved hand, fingers sliding home. “Din, please; we need to go.”

The familiar contact makes him stop and turn to look at you. He says nothing, so you use the opportunity to explain.

“The ki- I made a scene, and it would be best if everyone forgot about it. A Mandalorian publicly roughing up the very same shopkeeper would give them more reason to gossip.”

Din Djarin frowns the longer you speak. He knows you’re right. The kid is far more important than his sudden anger. He nods curtly.

The man’s vicious insults about your likely occupation and parentage echo down the street and make Din’s lip curl. But for the sake of the child, he manages to turn back toward the Razor Crest. It’s only when he passes Grogu’s stationary pod that he realizes he’s still holding your hand, fingers loosely intertwined.

He gently flexes his hand, letting go.

____________________________________

As the Razor Crest speeds away from the planet, you smile. Vacuous and bone-chillingly cold, space is the worst. For most of your life, the inhospitable conditions had been worsened by your constant transport in the dark hold of some Creator-forsaken vessel.

But the cabin of the Mandalorian’s ship is warm and full of life, occupied by the kid's excited babbling and your semi-nervous laughter.

The kid waves his stubby arms in the Mandalorian’s lap as the Razor Crest dips and rises through a relatively calm asteroid field. Expertly maneuvering the expanse, Din Djarin has little motivation to do so except the smiles on his passengers’ faces. If you ask, he’ll tell you it’s a shortcut to the next system, which is only mostly untrue.

It’s been three months since Din collected the bounty on your former master. During that time, the Mandalorian had found one of the kid’s kind. A Jedi who could’ve taken Grogu, she declined the task. She told the bounty hunter of a place, a Seeing Stone, where Grogu could reach out for a Jedi master himself.

Though a week has passed since learning of the Stone, Din had yet to bring Grogu to it, instead taking a couple of jobs. The stoic Mandalorian won’t admit, especially to himself, that he’s reluctant to let the child go.

Reaching a lull in the slow-moving asteroids, Din draws the thruster back to stationary level, then looks down, his helmet nearly touching his breastplate, at the child still waving his short arms. Din turns his silver face to you questioningly.

Before he can speak, you joke, "I don’t want to learn to fly out here, if that's what you're about to ask.”

He shrugs with acceptance. Your eyebrows pinch in surprise, wondering if he’s playing along or serious.

“Okay, kid. We're done here,” he tenderly lifts Grogu and passes him to you.

Grogu makes a protesting sound and hides one of his hands inside his robe.

“Big, mean Mandalorian is no fun,” you mutter to the child teasingly. Grogu coos in agreement.

Din shakes his head and swivels back to the control panel, flipping switches and entering data. The kid catches your attention, triumphantly showcasing a small metal sphere from his robe. You press your lips together and wink, silently promising you won’t tell.

The Mandalorian’s gloved fingers run over his ship’s control panel like he’s conducting the Coruscant Orchestra, and then, suddenly, his right hand freezes in mid-air as he reaches for the thruster.

“Grogu,” Din growls, spinning in his chair.

You laugh openly, “He’s a toddler, Din. You can’t close your eyes for a second.”

The Mandalorian rises, his bulk taking up the entirety of the cabin. He gently wrestles the ball from Grogu's fingers.

Long, soft ears droop, and massive, black eyes turn glassy.

“Oh, look what you've done,” you croon, looking up at Din with an expression mirroring the kid’s.

Though he doesn't move, you can somehow see when Din’s annoyance is overruled by something stronger. Then the Mandalorian’s wide shoulders slowly rise and fall, a long-suffering sigh leaving his body.

“You are both menaces,” the Mandalorian accuses. He extends his hand, palm upward, “Grogu. Take it.”

You hold your breath, allowing the child to focus on using his power. Grogu closes his eyes. The metal ball wiggles in the concave of Din’s large palm, then zooms to Grogu’s tiny hand.

Din makes a fist in excitement, “Great job, kid.”

Beaming at the Mandalorian, even more enthralled with him than the magic child in your lap, you wish you could see his proud smile.

Noticing your expression, Din's chin swivels to the side, clearly questioning.

"Nothing. It's just that - it’s good to see you like this.” You shrug, trying to minimize your staring. “I know you’ve been stressed.”

The silent moment draws out as he assesses your observation. Still standing, the Mandalorian’s right hand hesitantly rises to whisper across the left side of your jaw. The gloved softness of his thumb caresses your cheekbone for an instant and a lifetime.

Din drops his hand like it weighs as much as a rancor. He turns around and sits back in his pilot's chair. Silver armor reflects the red and yellow lights around the cabin as he finishes his navigational procedures.

Cheeks aflame, you duck your face down into the kid.

___________________________________

“‘Occasional repairs,’’' you quote at the Mandalorian. “Every karking week there’s a new hole in this poor ship.”

On the other side of the wing, busy soldering panels together, the Mandalorian's head snaps up. Unmoving, his expressionless mask simply stares at you. You bite your lip to prevent a grin and continue replacing bolts.

The beskar helmet remains for a while longer, hiding Din’s thoughts. He imagines what you’d look like if he put you on your knees and made you pay for your jokes. If he wiped that pretty smirk off your face. He feels a stirring in his flight suit, so he wrenches his mind away.

The act the two of you committed in that field has not been repeated. His dedication to his helmet - to his creed - is paramount. And you tempt him too much.

For the second time in the past year, Din has accidentally grown attached to someone - first the kid and now you. But with you, it’s a danger of a different kind.

Din had hoped that he just needed to get it out of his system. Get you out of his system. He had won that mock fight in the field, but he had yielded to his desire for you.

Instead of feeling sated, Din feels hungrier as the days go by. Useless information, such as the number of sonic showers you've taken, clogs his mind. He would be ashamed of his counting, but he's too battle-weary to care. He does not count how many times he's taken advantage of the privacy of his bunk, remembering your eager face, your receptive body underneath him.

All that armor wasn't worth a damn thing.

It’s easier for you. As inexperienced as Din but with your self-esteem already in the sarlacc pit, it wasn’t a stretch to imagine he'd had his fill of you and… well, that was that. Though you dream of it nearly every night, waking up to the strange feeling of both gaining and losing something.

Of course, the Mandalorian still needed you to care for the kid or help him replace several wing panels when he inevitably damaged them, as you were currently doing.

At dusk, white trees sway behind you in the biting wind. This planet is rather cold, and Grogu, asleep inside the Razor Crest, doesn’t join you for the lovely, young Gornt dinner that Din had hunted. The two of you butcher it in silence and place it on the makeshift spit.

You then plop onto a log and snuggle down into your clothes, shivering. Though the items Din had given you months earlier are sturdy and warm, some of the chill of the night manages to seep through. You cross your arms, rubbing them.

Din vanishes from the other side of the fire - the smoky, dark air impenetrable. Squinting, you try to spot his reflective armor, but it works against you in this instance, easily blending him into the flickering, dim light.

A heavy material suddenly falls onto your shoulders, and you jump.

"Oh!"

The Mandalorian stands directly behind you, the thick cloak he was trying to give you still partially in his hand.

"I was focused on trying to see you through the smoke. I didn't think you'd be there." You clutch the brown garment tight around you and softly smile up at him, "Thank you."

Din nods, the clinking sound of metal audible as he returns to his log across the firelight. Your mouth gapes for a moment when you realize that the material around your shoulders is his torn cape.

"Do you not get cold?"

"I do."

"Why not wear one yourself then?" You lift part of the cloak in indication.

"Mandalorians are taught to withstand uncomfortable circumstances. As a foundling, I frequently exercised in far less temperate weather."

"A foundling?" You query, your eyebrow raising.

The Mandalorian leans back and shifts his legs apart to better distribute his weight.

"My youth was upended by war. When my village was destroyed, I was found by a Mandalorian."

"The name is quite literal, then?"

"My people are quite literal," Din crosses his arms and his commanding presence is distracting.

He looks so big sitting on the log, his legs open, back straight, and arms folded.

"We have similar beginnings," you swallow, trying to ignore the burning inside that has nothing to do with the fire.

"I was a little more fortunate in who found me," Din states. He leans forward to finally adjust the rod holding your dinner.

You lose your gaze in the flaming light, remembering.

“I still can’t believe how much things have changed,” you murmur.

Din Djarin can’t either. He has a life-altering decision to make, and a child to let go of, and both thoughts weigh on him like a karking Mudhorn. Din sighs internally at his unintended choice of simile.

Your eyes stray upward to the navy sky, breathing deeply. The frigid air burns your lungs, but you only draw more in, relishing your freedom to do so.

"You did not deserve that life," Din’s rough, mechanical voice answers over the sound of the crackling fire.

You frown, "No one does."

Running with the Mandalorian was a great way to stay ahead of the slavers. Paid employment, constant movement, and no one besides Din knowing your name - it was too good to be true.

Dropping your head from the sky, you level the Mandalorian with the most heartfelt gaze you can manage, "Thank you. I would've never had the courage to run without you."

Unable to see his reaction, you feel the distance most acutely. It isn't just flame and metal that divides you.

"I-" Din starts, but you cut him off.

"But mostly it's thanks to Grogu," you grin, trying to lighten the mood.

The helmet bobs as though he's amused, then Din sighs dramatically.

"I need to separate you two."

"I love him," you giggle, remembering a moment a few days earlier when he had picked up a very dignified, sentient species of frog and tried to eat it. "He is such an agent of chaos." You laugh into your cloak-covered hand.

Grateful that you can't see the fervent emotion glimmering in his brown eyes, Din studies you. Your fond smile is lit by the glowing fire and the cold winds blow redness into your cheeks and nose. You’re secure in his cloak, and it makes his chest ache.

"Shit," he breathes. The hiss through his modulator doesn't pick up the word well, to his relief.

It's not a surprise if you do truly love the kid. He is adorable and you've been with him every waking moment for three months, but the word you've just introduced is jarring to Din.

Talking about Grogu brings the dangers you all face to the forefront of your mind. Your smile falls.

"Will you continue to teach me to fight?" You don't immediately register the sudden rigidity of Din's posture, so you press on, "It’s upsetting to me that I'm better with a blaster than with the skills I was taught and trained in by my family."

The Mandalorian is relieved. You've given him an excuse to say no.

"I cannot teach you the methods of your people."

“That’s alright; anything would be appreciated.”

Din shifts his thigh on the log, agitated, and you struggle to fill the silence, “You don’t have to, of course.”

Then, as the silence lengthens, and you watch his helmet glint as he looks away, you realize what he must be so uncomfortable about.

“Oh. I am not asking we repeat that. I’m sorry,” you raise a hand to chest height as if you’re trying to physically defend yourself from the awkwardness. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“I know.”

“I- Din, really I only meant the…” you grimace and clamp your lips together, unable to bear the tension. Standing, you insist, “I swear to you, I never expected more.”

Forgetting to return his cape, you unconsciously hold it closer as you retreat into the Razor Crest.

The Mandalorian does not watch you walk away. His conflicted eyes remain trained on the crackling fire. Sparring with you brings every heart tug, every little attraction he has to you to the surface, and that's too frustrating to manage while IMPs track him and he deals with letting go of Grogu.

But Din knows he really should continue to teach you. It’s in your best interest, as well as Grogu’s. His hangup is entirely selfish, and Din is not a selfish man.

***

Hours later, when the sun has started to rise once more on this short-cycle planet, the Mandalorian finds his brown cape hung on the door to the refresher. He jerks it off its resting place, and goes to tuck it back around himself, when he notices that something is wrong.

Frozen, the Mandalorian stares at the brown, rough material in his hand. There are no holes in it anymore, only stitches.

_________________________________________

Combined with the sound of intentionally-loud footsteps, Din places Grogu - who had jumped between the two of you all night - on the edge of your cot, allowing the child to wake you up. Din strides to his weapons cache.

You yawn, then snicker at Grogu’s delighted face as he babbles what must be his version of Good Morning.

“Morning, kid.” You pet his ear and he begins to purr.

“You should stop babying him,” the Mandalorian doesn’t look at you as he searches among the weapons.

“Why? He’s a baby.”

Din shuts the doors to his stash. “He is fifty years old."

“He's what?”

Din shrugs and inclines his head in humor. You stare incredulously at the middle-aged child who rotates his little head between you and his father.

“His species is unknown, but they age differently than we do.”

“Uh, yeah. Fifty?”

Din’s modulator makes a rasping sound. It could’ve been a small laugh, but you’re not sure.

“Is fifty so terrible?”

Something in Din’s voice makes you look up at him. He casually leans against the hull.

Unsure if you should have the gumption to even ask, you stutter, “A-are you also fifty?”

The beskar mask does not move as the man behind it debates his reply. He decides on honesty.

“No,” Din states. He clasps one hand over the other in front of him, adding, “But I will reach that number in less than a decade.”

You make a small, accepting gesture as you had subconsciously placed him around his early forties anyway. In any case, it doesn’t matter to you. He is the Mandalorian who (somewhat inadvertently at first, you’ll admit) saved you. Even without that gratitude, you would feel an attraction to him. He was strong and kind and protective. Ruthless, sure, but only when necessary.

Din pushes off the wall, “You didn’t ask why I woke you.”

“Oh.” It hadn’t occurred to you, so used to being woken up - far more rudely or violently - each morning for the prior two decades. “Alright, why did you wake me?”

He reaches behind his back, unhooking an item, and holds out the fighting stick he had used in that skirmish between the two of you.

“I will teach you what I can.”

***

Din Djarin is careful not to touch you, even through his gloves. He doesn’t trust himself anymore. Instead, he instructs you in tactics. After clocking your strategy in less than three moves, Din is worried about your future opponents doing the same.

“You dislike giving ground, but there will be times you’ll have to. It’s how you will outmaneuver them,” the Mandalorian stands, hands folded, his knee cocked, as he speaks.

“How do you know that?” You ask in response to his first statement.

Din clenches his jaw at the memory so very close to other memories, and answers you in a contained voice, “You were not subtle.”

You smile, abashed. “See, that is why I asked you. I’m far too inexperienced.”

Din closes his eyes in frustration.

You continue nervously, thinking about how hesitant he had been to agree to this, “My master took me to many fights, and you’re the best I’ve ever seen. I value your opinion.”

Din is used to compliments. Those whom he returned quarries to often praised him for his work. But your praise is one he actually wants, and something throbs in his chest. Then he grows irritated with his rampant, immature yearning for you.

Din speaks harshly, “This is for the protection of the child. You are his guardian when I am not nearby.”

Locked onto that T-shaped, black slit, your eyes flicker a little at his callous, impatient pronouncement, but you nod.

“Of course. For the kid.”

__________________________________

Unhappy to be removed from where he had curled up on his father’s pilot seat, Grogu had insisted upon sleeping in the cockpit with his little metal ball. You had assured the Mandalorian that you didn’t mind staying in the passenger chair for the night. The cushions were comfortable enough, and it made the child happy.

An hour after Grogu had begun purring in his sleep, you’re brought to consciousness by a deeper, labored sound. Bolting to your feet, worried about the Mandalorian below, you descend the ladder.

The door to the Mandalorian’s bunk had not fully closed, apparently jamming on some loose junk part that Grogu must’ve picked up. There is no light on in the enclosed space, so you cannot see him. But you can hear the way he mutters your name once, rough and agitated. You can hear the sound of material jerking and his rasping, vocoded grunts.

Your throat tightens and your breathing stops. Eyes wide, you slowly back up, terrified for him to find you in this way. A molten weight in your stomach wants you to push open the door and take care of him, but after the manner in which he spoke to you the entire afternoon, and the obvious way he tries to forget about that day in the field, you can’t. You can’t even fathom why he would be uttering your name. It’s too confusing.

Dazed, you return to the cockpit and try to block him out. Sleep does not come to save you for far too long, and when it does, it provides you no escape from the Mandalorian.

__________________________________

Din’s tortured use of your name had kept you awake far into the night. When you groggily open your eyes the next morning, you know you won’t be able to let this go. You must talk to him. Bravery is a muscle you’re trying to flex anyway, so you might as well try it on the scariest thing you can think of: an angry Din Djarin.

While Grogu plays with a ship part you pretend to have never seen, one Din had pried out of the receiving slot of his bunk door this morning, you and he traipse down the boarding ramp, intending to save the rest of the Gornt meat for traveling.

Absolutely guessing at how you’ll begin this conversation, you decide you’ll just hope for the best.

“I- I heard you last night.” It’s barely more than a whisper.

The Mandalorian stops dead in his tracks and you stumble, trying not to run into him. He turns on you, a solid wall of muscle and metal, but says nothing. You swallow and force what shred of courage you have to the front.

“I heard you say my name. You don’t have to do that alone. I can help you,” your final words are almost inaudible.

The Mandalorian provides food, shelter, and companionship. Ignorant to any kind of normal relationship, friendly or greater, you want to show your gratitude. And if that was how you could help him, all the better.

Your inner self, the one that’s been unthawing since the day your master was frozen in carbonite, wants Din in a far more genuine manner. You want him. His compassion and honor, his fatherly love for Grogu, his non-pitying care for you, and his primal confidence have you in danger of becoming a hopeless devotee.

“Help me,” he reiterates, his tone worryingly neutral.

“Passage for assistance,” you try to ease the tension slightly with another old quote of his. “I can still assist you. It’s repayment for your aid.”

Even as you say it, you feel the depth of the lie. You want Din for yourself.

He’s silent. At his side, the fingers on his right hand fidget. The broad bounty hunter leans over you. As he tilts his head, the cold sun glints off his armor.

Din’s voice is as sharp as his vibroblade but twice as lethal, “You are no longer a slave - do not make me say that again. This is not a business transaction.”

Not a business transaction? While technically a rejection, his clarification makes you dizzy. Your breath comes out shakily, fogging in the chill air.

“Okay. What if that’s not my real reason for asking?”

That does it. Stunned, the Mandalorian might as well be a statue made of beskar. Din had found it easy to believe you allowed him to touch you because you felt in his debt, and he hated it. Made him feel as slimy as a Hutt.

“Tell me.”

Din watches your facial expressions run the gamut and he knows that whatever you’re about to say is the truth.

“I care about you.” Will you ever stop whispering? “For you, not just what you’ve done for me,” your second greatest act of bravery this morning is touching his cold chestplate. You swallow as you look up into that blank face.

Din doesn't move. Doesn't think he can move, but then his body responds before his mind does. Soft leather brushes your cheekbones as he takes your face in his large hands. He tilts his cold helmet to your forehead, and you instinctively close your eyes, sighing in relief. This was not what you were expecting when you followed him out here.

You can't hear the first thing he says, but it sounds like dank farrik. You laugh quietly in his hands.

"You are a menace,” he mutters a little louder, the modulator somehow enhancing the timbre of his voice. “You and the kid.”

Grinning, you open your eyes as he lifts his helmet from your skin. “Don’t bring him into this,” you joke.

Din’s thumb ghosts across your lips and you shiver. The Mandalorian is calm. This is inevitable now. He need not fight himself any longer. He grasps your wrist and brings it upward. Gently guiding your fingers underneath the edge of his helmet, Din presses them to his lips.

Utterly shocked at this new gift, you gasp. A scratchy cloth wraps around the bottom of his chin, but above it, his soft, scruffy facial hair and plump lips make your skin tingle. Nerves jumble in your lower stomach. He presses another kiss before slowly lowering your hand.

You tell him disbelievingly, "I thought there was no way -”

“What you thought was wrong.”

Your heat signature rises at the sincerity in his voice. Din tilts his head, watching your reaction to him. He lets his covered fingers drift over your lips again, then he drags them down the column of your throat and past your exposed collarbone, enjoying your whimper. Your pupils are dilated.

“You want me now, don’t you?” He asks, his voice hoarse.

You nod, whispering past your suddenly dry mouth, “Yes.”

The Mandalorian crouches for a split second, hefting you into his arms with no effort. Your legs automatically wrap around his middle, arms around his neck. His hands clasp underneath your thighs as he strides up the loading ramp as though every second he delayed was one wasted.

Din lays you out on his bunk and hits the button for the door without looking at it. He does not turn on the light. In the tiny, black room, you can hear him divesting himself of his flight suit and armor. It makes your heart throw itself against your chest. You sit up and struggle out of your own clothes, wanting nothing between you and him.

“Will I ever get to kiss you?” You ask timidly.

Din answers you immediately. His rough palms bracket your face, then he reverently pushes his lips into yours. His facial hair brushes against your skin and you weakly moan into his mouth, parting your lips for more. The Mandalorian groans, as well, enraptured by this new sensation.

Din wraps a muscled arm around your waist, crushing you to him in the small space. His warm, broad chest forces yours to mold around him. Your hands gently drag along his torso, mapping him. He shudders underneath your fingers.

His lips break like waves around yours. You could be floating above the bed and it would feel no different. He kisses you like it’s what he needs to survive; his occasional noises of desperation stake your heart and dampen your thighs.

“Need to touch you everywhere,” Din’s real, untampered voice knots your stomach.

“You can do whatever you want,” you breathlessly repeat the unspoken affirmation you’d given him the first time.

He chuckles, and you shiver again, drunk with lust. Din lowers you back onto the hard bed, settling over you.

His hot mouth surprises the sensitive skin of your breast. Din moans, involuntarily you think, as he tastes you there, gently pulling and sucking. You jerk, pressing up into him with a cry. Who knew that could feel so good?

His big hands flow down your sides, pressing into you, exploring, and you get a burst of understanding. This man is starved.

Your hands comb into his hair, and while you wonder what its color is, you’re choked up to find that it’s soft and wavy. Din groans loudly when your fingers rub on his scalp. He seems invigorated by it as he growls and returns to your lips with a fever. His tongue demands you allow him inside, but there is no resistance on your end.

Suddenly, Din breaks the kiss with a wet pop of his lips. He vanishes from above you, but then two large hands slide up your thighs. He pushes them apart and your breath hitches.

“You trust me?” The Mandalorian knows the answer, he just wants to hear it.

Nodding dumbly in the dark, you realize he can’t see you and squeak, “Yes.”

He shifts down and presses a row of kisses up your inner thigh. His nose brushes your coarse hair, and your breathing breaks a second time.

Din flattens his tongue and licks the spot he already knows you like. You jolt and his arms wrest around your thighs, holding you in place for him. You whimper as he buries his face in your folds, shocking your system. Your hands return to his hair, and his chest swells as he quickly shoves you toward your end. His nose continually nudges your bundle of nerves and each time it feels like you’re hurtling through hyperspace.

Your back arches when he traps your clit between his lips, and he responds with another obscene noise. This time, the vibration of his deep voice rips your orgasm from your marrow. Crying out his name, you quake, chest heaving through the waves of euphoria.

Too overwhelmed by all his options, Din moves back to your mouth, breathing heavily himself, “Incredible.”

He licks into you again, his hand cradling your face to allow him deeper. Taking advantage of his position, you wrap your legs around his trim waist, pulling him down. His hips cant toward you, and you feel his length fall onto your abdomen. You hadn’t forgotten how big he was, but the heft of it makes your body tremble.

The Mandalorian could be a patient man, but this would never be one of those moments. Din fists himself, rubbing once along your soaked seam. He pushes forward, steadily feeding his cock into your tight, forgiving heat. Din grunts several times, overstimulated.

“You don’t know what you’ve done, mesh’la,” he gruffly murmurs, his naked voice still so shocking to hear.

You have no idea what he means, and you file it away for later study. Solely focused on how he feels halfway inside you, you clutch at the back of his thick thighs, encouraging him. But then he snaps his hips, driving himself to the hilt.

“Din, oh,” you sharply gasp.

He grinds his pubic bone into your mound, stimulating you; his chin tilts up, proud, when you shudder. The Mandalorian grabs one of your hands and brings it to where he’s joined with you.

“You feel that?” Din’s voice is weighty, meaningful.

“Mhm,” you sigh, your fingers leaving his hand to explore his dark curls. He’s right. The deviant way his thick member disappears inside you is intoxicating.

He languidly draws himself out, letting you experience every ridge and vein, pulsing with your filthy sounds. He re-enters you just as intentionally, and when he’s given you everything, he leans down and drags you into a kiss. A kiss that means something to him. His tongue surges through your mouth in a single stroke before his full lips pull on yours, one hand gripping the back of your neck.

He lets you go, trailing his mouth down your throat, obsessed with the taste and the feel of you on his skin.

Din returns to your lips, his forearms framing your head. His fingers twist in your hair, and he begins to pump faster. His length strokes along a spot that makes your eyes flutter in the pitch blackness. Your nails carefully rake at his toned back, drawing a strangled moan from him as he shoves himself inside again and again. Losing a measure of self-control, he thrusts hard, placing a palm on the back wall for stability.

Your hands finally, finally, reach up for his face, expecting at any moment that he’ll stop you. His lips are parted as he pants in exertion, his facial hair fluttering with his breath. Din’s cheekbones are round and high; his nose is angular and fitting.

“I knew you were handsome,” you praise, the words fluctuating in cadence with his pounding strokes. “Wouldn’t have mattered.”

He scoffs, barely conscious of what you’re saying. His forehead drops to yours again, and he can’t believe the life he’d known had unraveled so drastically. In under a year, Din had gained a child and this.

“Turn over,” he orders.

Of course, you obey without hesitation.

His calloused fingers slide around your hips, pulling them upward. With your chest still pressed into the bunk, you moan when he slowly re-inserts himself. He nearly chokes when your body draws him in; the angle and drenched grip of you makes him shake his head in disbelief.

“You okay?” He rumbles.

Your chin scrapes on the metal bed as you nod, “Please move.”

He clasps an arm around your middle, hunching forward. His scruff and lips tickle the top of your spine as he begins to rut into you. It’s already too much - Din grunting, his chest hair scratching your upper back, his muscled arms holding you in place as he fills you over and over. You begin to clench around him again, crying out harshly in a rush of pleasure. Your legs shake, giving out underneath you.

The Mandalorian’s large hand splays across your breast, and he pulls you backward onto your knees alone, welding you to his perspiring chest. As his length plunges up into you, his lips brush your ear. He’s whispering something, but you can't understand the words.

Then, Din exhales with a groan and rolls several long, pulsing strokes, burying his come as deep as he can with a final, gravel-filled grunt.

***

In the dark, there’s only the sound of two people fighting for breath. Din has leaned against the cool wall; he tugs you to him. You sit somewhat beside him, your legs tangled together. Your head rests on his heaving shoulder, and every now and then, you feel the press of his lips in your hair. He laughs once, quietly.

“What is it?”

“Your life is not the only one that has changed.”

Blinking rapidly, your heart glows with warmth. Yours had changed the most. This Mandalorian had come into your non-existence and given you everything. Courage, freedom, responsibility, love.

“I know you like to fight, but this is one I’ll win,” you laugh softly.

___________________________________

Tagging:

@morks-watermelon

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfic #din djarin fanfic #pedro pascal #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin fanfiction #my writing #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #my fics #personal #grogu

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bruh-myguy-what · 1 month

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Hello! Could I possibly ask for a Echo/reader (Gn)

Setting could be 79’s maybe some angst with someone calling out echos “missing parts” after he rejects their advancements, and he feels a bit dejected about it. The reader (after insulting the other person) would take him back to the Marauder and comforts him (it can be smut or fluff either is fine)

Thank you! Have a nice day <3

He's More Than That***

Pairing: Echo x GN!Reader Warnings: Smut (my first so you must forgive any issues), Twi'lek woman being mean to our beautiful cyber-clone, cursing, filthy nonsense at some point, oral (Echo receiving), intercourse/sex, fluff Word Count: 5K Summary: Hunter, Wrecker and Echo waned a temporary reprieve from their constant stay in the Mauarder and decided you should be their babysitter for the night at 79's. Reluctantly you join and overhear a conversation Echo had with a Twi'lek who doesn't seem to take being rejected by him very well. After defending him and convincing him he deserves more, he shows you exactly what you deserve from him. A/N: When you requested this, anon I absolutely had just admitted- the same day!- that I was basically now an Echo girlie. I hadn't ever really noticed how adorable he was or how much I actually loved him until after the finale. Like I've always loved him, but I was never a girlie until now and now I simp. Also, I've never really written GN or smut so the two together really threw me for a loop lol so I hope this is alright for you! I do really appreciate you sending in a request, feel free to send in whenever you'd like!

Requests are open if you have anything you'd like to send in!

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The atmosphere of 79's was as smoky and dingy as ever, the blue/green lights of the neons hanging around illuminating faces and bodies as they moved about the bar. It hadn't been your idea to be here tonight, usually opting to stay back on the Marauder with Tech and Crosshair for the sake of serenity, but when the other three boys begged you to come along so that they have a designated babysitter who wouldn't get wasted, you couldn't deny them. Hunter wanted to get away from the ship to what he labeled "loosen up" which you knew meant he needed to get laid before the stress made him strangle his brothers. Wrecker wanted to drink some regs under the table and joke about how 99 was better in every aspect while listening to good music.

Echo, on the other hand, didn't give you a reason why he decided to join in on the outing. It wasn't his usual scene. Not anymore, anyway. As far as you were aware he also preferred the relaxed atmosphere of the ship; the two of you spending your time playing a game or watching a bad holomovie you'd downloaded on one of the datapads the Batch kept aboard for entertainment. It wasn't really like him to want to drink all that much, not since he joined Clone Force 99. He'd told you a few stories of him and his twin, Fives, trying to pick up a few women here and there while hanging around the clone bar back in the day but you never thought you'd actually see him here.

You peeked to the corner of the club, seeing Hunter cozied up with a pretty green Twi'lek woman- her legs draping over his lap as he kissed along her neck. At least he'd be less snappy on your next mission. Then you heard Wrecker laughing boisterously over the music as some reg tapped out, his squad mates dragging him away from the table. He'd be content too and it's almost as if you could already hear him hollering at Crosshair to regale his win over the regs. Resting your eyes back on the pale clone sitting at the bar independently, you watched from across the hazy atmosphere wondering if you should approach him or leave him to his thoughts.

You and Echo had a relatively close relationship. His reserved yet courageous demeanor was always something you had admired about him, and whenever he'd joined 99, you were among the first to buddy up with him. You knew exactly how it'd felt not to be "one of the brothers", even with how close you'd become with the Batch. So, it seemed easy for the two of you to cling to that shared understanding. You felt a smile reaching your lips at some of the memories you'd shared with Echo, a familiar ache settling in your chest and you determined that joining him at the bar was the best idea- even if not for him, but for yourself.

You made sure to clock him in the spot he was settled in before tearing your eyes away and descending the stairs to the main floor, losing sight of him through the dense crowd. Weaving through, apologizing to a few couples who were dancing or going about their "business" on the floor, you managed to emerge from the mass of people to find an empty bar stool- entirely devoid of your companion.

"What the-" you muttered to yourself under the loud music, "He was just here." Swiping a glance up and down the span of the bar, the friendly sight of a pale clone adorned by blue neons captured your attention. He seemed to be speaking to someone, though you couldn't quite see who it was from your current position so you stepped up closer to casually join the conversation when you overheard Echo decline whatever they had offered.

Curiosity got the better of you and instead of being a good friend, leaving the man alone to hopefully find some solace for the night, you stood just close enough to eavesdrop a little more. "I appreciate the sentiment, and you're stunning, don't get me wrong." His voice was as sweet as ever, a little solemn you could tell, but only if you knew him well enough.

Was she really all that pretty? Were Twi'leks the type of person Echo was into? Against your better judgment, you leaned forward onto the bar to glimpse the woman he had complimented, and your heart sank at how her pretty eyes glimmered against the neon lights.

Then you heard her laughter. It sounded as if she were laughing… at him. "Oh, honey," her accented voice cut through the music with its patronizing tone. "You can't honestly be refusing me when you look like," and you watched as her pretty eyes scanned the clone before her, gesturing lazily with her manicured hand, "that."

Maybe you'd heard her wrong. You'd definitely heard her wrong… right? There was no way in the galaxy that she was insulting him about his looks just because he told her no… right?

Echo stammered in shock, momentarily caught off-guard by her comment. It wasn't as if he'd not been used to people making remarks about his… unmistakable condition. He just hadn't anticipated the Twi'lek to be so hostile at his decline. "Well, I-"

"I mean, seriously? Look at you, you're a mangled mess." She let out an irked breath as if she were, suddenly, too good for the current conversation. You noticed her lean away from Echo, surveying the rest of the room full of clones, "I bet you don't even have all of the right parts to please anyone anymore, do you droid?" The Twi'lek's snide grin as she huffed out another laugh made your blood boil.

Droid?

Did she actually have the audacity to call a man of war, who kept her safe from the rising Separatist threats, a droid? She couldn't even begin to understand the horrors of war Echo had seen.

You heard a disparaging laugh bubble up from your friend, noting how his shoulders sank only a fraction, head inclining to the cup in his hand. His back had been facing you, turned completely to the attention of the Twi'lek in front of him, so you couldn't entirely make out his expression- though you'd felt as if you'd known him well enough to imagine the rueful smile etching his features about now. "Ah, yeah," he breathed with a soft, somber chuckle, "I guess I am a freak at this point, eh?"

"It isn't about that anyway," you finally chimed over his shoulder.

Echo's eyes widened at your raised voice, his hurried voice muttering your name in surprise. "What are you doing?" His brown eyes glanced between you and the Twi'lek nervously as you walked around to place yourself between the two of them.

"I don't think he'd have trouble pleasing anyone that had the decency to see past a few war scars. But clearly, that isn't you, you'd only be a waste of his time." The knuckles of your fingers began to ache because of your clenched fists and only at Echo's gentle touch did you relax.

The soft voice you'd come to rely on whispered past the music into your ear, "Cyare, please, it's not that big of a deal, really." Though his tone was even you could tell he'd been embarrassed that you'd overheard the conversation.

"It is though, Echo. You don't deserve to be spoken to that way just because you don't want to whore around for the night." You defended sharply, throwing a look back at him then quickly pinning the Twi'lek to her spot once more. "He has plenty of satisfying features, I'll have you know. He's funny, loyal, protective. He loves his brothers fiercely. He doesn't shy away in the face of danger. He's the first to answer when help is needed, he's reliable, and a wonderful man who deserves more than what most people give him."

Condescending giggles rippled over her pink lips as she covered them, a manner of mischievous glee sparkling in her eyes as she watched the protective display. "You defend him as if you two fuck."

A burn crept up your neck and into your cheeks at the allegation but you couldn't slow your words quickly enough before you said, "I'd be damn lucky if we did."

Echo's grip on your arm flexed at your statement, tentatively pulling you back toward him to de-escalate the rising frustration in you. "Cyare, maybe that's enough." He whispered again.

"You two are cute. No wonder he didn't want to sleep with me. Whatever," the Twi'lek waved you off noncommittally, then pushed herself off of the bar. "There are other handsome men around who need my attention." And with a subtle flip of her lekku, she merged with the swaying crowd.

Frustration simmered beneath your surface as you watched her disappear, more nasty remarks popping into your mind after the confrontation was over. "Stupid, nasty-"

"Cyar'ika," Echo's warm voice broke your hostility, his fingers raising your chin to meet his eyes, "what was all that about?" The pale brown hues narrowed in concern as if you had just been in a serious altercation on his behalf and were injured in some way. "It's not like that doesn't happen all the time, what with the regs calling us defective," his laughter dying as he noticed your soured expression.

You crossed your arms over your chest indignantly, "Just because people insult you, Echo, doesn't mean it's okay. You don't deserve to be treated that way. By anyone." The reassuring brush of his hand- passing from your chin to your shoulder- made you even more upset as if he were okay with being so dehumanized by someone. You pushed his hand away, not because you were offended by his touch- far from it- but because you needed him to take your words to heart. "And stop with the Mando'a, you know I don't understand what you're saying. I'm being serious right now, ya know? You're not a droid. You're you. You're Echo."

The slight tilt of his head made your heart lock up as he smiled at you. He didn't say anything, he just stood there, the pale brown of his eyes highlighted by greens and blues from the bar. It was something you two often did, communicate with just a few looks, something that Crosshair had hissed and griped about, witnessing it on multiple occasions. As the two of you stood there silently for a moment, you began to notice his smile shift and the color of his cheeks showed a little darker. "A-About what you said to her-"

Your entire world came raging back, the music suddenly too loud for you to think properly. "O-Oh right! The...uh-"

"F-Feeling lucky if the two of us-"

You hummed in agreement, with his sentence, not your earlier sentiment. Not that if you thought about it long enough you would've disagreed with your truthfulness brought on by impulse. In fact, you had thought about it quite a lot since meeting the Arc Trooper. You couldn't help yourself, really… he was quite literally amazing at nearly everything he did. He was fluid on the battlefield, quick to make decisions, soft, and compassionate when someone needed comforting. He walked around as if the horrors of his dreams didn't haunt him, opting instead to care even more for those around him. Echo was a man of honor and you marveled at how he carries himself. Not to mention being in close quarters with him, or any of the Batch really, only heightened your ever-growing desire toward him. It was practically inescapable to see someone either in their blacks, partially dressed, or completely naked while on the Marauder. You had seen Hunter and Wrecker shirtless on more than a few occasions and even once seen Tech remove his blacks to use the fresher, and nothing was really wrong with any of those instances. Though the one that lingered in your mind, that just kept nagging at you when you were particularly desperate to reach out and have his pale hand touch you, was when you'd walked in on Echo after he'd finished in the sonic. You thought Crosshair had been the last one to use the fresher and hadn't seen anyone else take a turn, but when you pressed the button revealing the cybernetic clone with just a towel hanging around his waist you froze. You could've acted normal about it, muttering an apology and turning around but you'd only stood there floundering.

And that was how you reacted in this very same instance- dumbstruck and speechless- as your cheeks and ears burned desperately.

Clearing his throat, jolting your attention back to his face, Echo rubbed the back of his neck bashfully. "Well, we can just forget about it. I'm sure it seriously threw her off when you said that, so that was a good tactic." He joked kindheartedly, eyes closing in that familiar charming, laid-back smile of his.

He honestly thought you were joking. Or just trying to defend him by saying anything that sounded good.

Maybe that was okay.

Maybe you could get away with not making anything awkward between the two of you. Maybe he saw how anxiously you reacted when he brought it back up and was gracious enough to drop it for your sake.

But was that fair?...

He deserved to know how handsome he was, just as much as any of his brothers- 99 or otherwise.

"Besides, like she said- whether it was meant as an insult or not- I'm a mangled mess. We can't have you wasting your good looks on me, now can we?" Echo tapped the tip of your chin with his hand gently, winking mirthfully at you.

He was being serious.

He didn't have any clue how desperate you were some nights to call out to him. Echo genuinely thought he was unwanted and he harbored it like a man devised for loneliness.

Never reciprocating his humor or obliging him in his self-deprecation, you remained stern, eyes locked with his handsome pale face. "I would fuck you right now in the middle of 79's if I knew we wouldn't get banned from the only clone bar on Coruscant."

Disbelief filled the clone's expression, eyes dilated to the size of Tech's goggles, his cheeks flushing a red bright enough to rival the neon lights. It was a terrifying leap to take, conveying these tight-lipped secrets you'd been carefully preserving but if it made Echo understand that he was just as desirable as any other man- clone, Jedi, or otherwise- then you'd shout it at every single person in the bar tonight. Your name fell from his lips in an airy exhale, frantically his eyes searched for any sign of banter or sarcasm but he was only met with decisiveness in your returning stare. "You..." he breathed again, deliberately slowing his racing heart, "You're being serious." At your resolute nod, brows furrowed and eyes stern, Echo looked down at himself critically. "B-But, I-"

"Do I need to prove it to you?" you provoked.

Echo's bewildered stare snapped back to your face, brows raised high in astonishment. "Pro-Prove it?"

Again you nodded with resolve. "You deserve it just as much as Hunter. I'll prove it to you right-" and before you could finish your sentence you were yanked forward away from the bar, weaving through the crowd. Echo's pale hand gripping your upper arm tightly enough not to lose you amongst the moving bodies. Confused but curious, you followed his lead.

Pulled to one of the single restrooms you felt yourself being slung inside, Echo behind you now, locking the door. The dingy lights were also a staple in the small room, the most of the illumination coming from the neon lights outside the high window. "Echo, what in the galaxy-"

"Say it again." His voice rushed as you turned to meet his urgent but dangerously narrowed eyes, the low tone startling you.

You knew he was referring to what you had said by the bar, but which part, in particular, left you timid to respond. "Say what again?" You finally managed, anxiously fiddling with a loose string on your pants.

The clone across the room looked positively possessed as he took only a single step toward you. "Tell me you want me." Echo pressed, the gravel to his voice making you shiver. "Please," his whispered demand nearly lost to the bass rumbling the walls.

This was certainly not where you had envisioned the night to go when you agreed to come out with your squad mates, but as you took a breath, you dove right into the dream. "I want you, Echo." And with the speed of an Arc Trooper, the man descended on you, pressing you into the wall. His body crowded around you, leaving no room to breathe in anything but him as his lips furiously pursued yours. Though he seemed desperate in his actions, there was a hesitation you felt in him. He was leaning against the wall by his arms, keeping himself just a hair's breadth away, afraid to touch you. Pulling back enough to speak against his lips, your hand found his cheek. "Touch me, Echo, please," your own plea a whisper.

His breath shook against your mouth as he faltered, "I-I'm afraid of ruining this…" His sincerity was the fear of a desolate man. "It's been so long… way before I looked-"

Reaching up beside you where his arms lay against the wall, gently guiding his hand and scomp-link to your body. "You can't ruin anything for me, I promise. I've been wanting this for so long, just touch me." A breathy exhale that sounded like a soft chuckle washed over your face at himself and to keep him from overthinking anymore you surged forward to press yourself against him fully- lips connecting.

The kiss you shared this time, was less desperate and hasty, instead imbued with passion and certainty as your tongue came out to greet his bottom lip. Mandalorian curses escaped under Echo's breath, voice trembling as he did, welcoming the dance you challenged. "I can't believe you want me… How could you want me?" Disbelief greeted you as you kissed him again trying somehow to get your affections across.

"How could I not?" Your simple reply caused him to look at you squarely, again searching your face as if he could find some hint of sarcasm or deception- but he found none. With a warm smile, you started unstrapping your armored chest piece and undressing from your standard issue GAR clothes. "Like I told the Twi'lek," you started as you set the clothes on a bar beside you, trying to maintain your composure with intense brown eyes observing you eagerly. "You're loyal, and kind. Funny as hell, adorable when you get embarrassed, charming when you aren't feeling too tired to banter around with me or your brothers," the last one made him chuckle a bit but it died off when the last of your clothes fell away and you stepped back up to him. "And no matter what's going on down here," you glanced down to where his codpiece sat, "I know you'll satisfy me completely."

"Kriff..." Echo stammered softly at the warmth of your hands reaching to unclasp his armor, a questioning look in your eyes. He grinned timidly, "I didn't think at this point you'd even feel the need to ask, cyare," to which you went at undressing him, yourself. Upon lowering yourself to the floor to undress his lower half, even with him imploring you to not get on the bathroom floor for him, you marveled when his blacks were pulled past his thighs.

"Well, color me surprised," your wistful voice made the clone groan in embarrassment as he covered his mouth with his hand, looking away bashfully. "Looks like you won't be disappointing anyone, will you, Echo?" You teased, glancing between the adorably sheepish look on his face and the solid cock that greeted you. Nothing amiss whatsoever. How could he be so insecure when he harbored this under his blacks?

Echo shifted on his robotic legs, anxiously, "There's no need for the commentary, cyar'ika," he complained, his voice deeper than usual as he stole glances at you between his legs as if he were caught watching something he shouldn't.

Smirking, you shrugged nonchalantly up at him, "Guess I'll just have to keep my mouth busy then." Your tongue splayed out over your bottom lip to experimentally lick at the head of his cock, reveling in the shaking gasp that escaped the clone.

"Oooh, k-kriff," Echo groaned helplessly, eyes screwing shut at the feeling blitzing through him like a barrage of blaster fire. The way his husky voice stretched out your name made your body ache for his touch.

You wanted more.

All of it.

All of him.

Your tongue danced along from the base to the tip a few times, placing delicate kisses here and there over his pale skin. It was sweet, watching him enjoy himself with such a small form of affection. The way his eyes fluttered every time your tongue swiped over the tip, how his teeth found purchase on the skin of his bottom lip to keep himself from making too many sounds. "Y-You gotta stop t-teasing me, mesh'la, please..." Echo breathed desperately, hand falling to the back of your head.

"Please, what, handsome?" The naïveté in your tone betrayed the way your eyes twinkled dangerously up at him and made him groan again, hand coming around to thumb your bottom lip, mesmerized by you.

"Please suck my cock." Desire finally blossomed in his eyes, the adorable timidness dissipating and giving way to a man who hungered for more. "I want to feel your mouth around me… I've wanted that for so long."

The admission surprised you, but you couldn't focus on it for too long before you acquiesced and took his cock into your mouth as far as you could before he hit the back of your throat. Echo choked out a moan at your motion, feeling the way your mouth warmed his skin, your tongue lapping around him. "S-So long… oooh, kriff. Wanted to feel your pretty mouth suck me off."

The filth murmuring from his pale lips was only fueling your lust as you hollowed your cheeks and started to bob your head back and forth on him. "I-I can't believe this isn't one of my-my dreams, oh fuck," Echo whispered as he looked down to meet your gaze, groaning at the hazy look in your eyes and whispering an astounded 'look at you' as his hand pressed into the back of your head. His hips thrust, against his better judgment, shoving himself further into your throat provoking a moan from the both of you simultaneously. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you relaxed, allowing him to fuck into your mouth at his leisure, the sounds he makes stirring you up more.

You pull back to catch your breath, a string of drool trailing from your tongue to his soaked cock. "You've dreamed of me sucking your dick, have you?"

"I've dreamed of many sinful things concerning you, cyare." Echo's voice was solid as he pulled you up by your arm, crushing his mouth to yours in a searing kiss. His tongue tasted yours for a moment, scomp pressing into your lower back so you were flush with him. The large expanse of his hand explored your body, mapping every scar and dip of skin to commit to his memory. "Your body is even better than I could've fantasized it; much softer, stronger." He whispered against your neck, placing warm open-mouthed kisses along it.

"Echo," you breathed out his name, his mouth dizzying you. "Show me what you've dreamed… I want to know."

The chuckle that escaped through his lips and fell over your skin sounded dangerous as if you asked him to show you his crimes. "Bend over for me then," the drawl of your name spurred a whine from you that made him grin and you spun around in his arms to place your hands steadily against the bar drilled into the wall. "Kriff, and I thought the sight of you sucking my dick was going to make me cum..." Echo muttered from behind you, his hand brushing down the curve of your spine, admiring the way goosebumps chased after his fingertips. "This view is sure to ruin me."

"Echo, please," you whined over your shoulder at him. The sudden change in power lost on you as you shifted your hips back to meet his, yearning for some sort of relief. Teasing him had done a number on both of you and you needed him to relieve you somehow.

"Looks like I can't deny how badly you want me now, can I, cyar'ika?" The cybernetic clone chuckled from behind you, leaning his tall body over your back to whisper, "Not when you beg for my dick like that." The warmth of his breath tickled the back of your neck and you moaned at the feeling. Without any more taunting, Echo finally leaned away from you to watch himself slip inside of you. "Shit… look at how you take me," he sounded nearly astonished by how his cock disappeared inside, appreciating the sight before him- second only to how you choked his dick.

"Stars, Echo," you moaned desperately, wincing at the stretch of him inside of you, panting as you took more as he pushed deeper inside. "M-More, please, fuck me Echo, please."

"Greedy, aren't you," Echo teased lightheartedly, chuckling at how you begged for him to take you. He seemed to be enjoying himself as he sank into you fully, his typical jovial attitude returning. It wasn't even as if he were teasing you in an expected sexy way. He was teasing you as if he caught you with your hand in the ration box, looking to take extras. The feeling of his cock dragging inside of you as he gradually pulled out to just the tip and then just as slowly pushed himself back in nearly made you sob at the burning fixation for him to shatter you. "I love feeling you like this. I can't believe you want this as much as I do. Kriff, you are stunning. Everything you do floors me." You continually whined his name as he spoke, moving in and out of you at an agonizingly slow pace then you felt his hand brush up your back and grip your shoulder tightly as if bracing himself. "You're the reason I said no to the Twi'lek. I just want this, only this," he moaned as he pulled out one last time before stopping, whispering, "Only you," then hammering into you at a fracturing pace.

"Oh fuck, Echo!"

"That's it," Echo praised in his warm encouraging tone, your name falling from his lips like a tribute as he drives his cock into you over and over until you were almost screaming. His stamina was devastating, the force behind his thrusts calamitous as your body rocked against his. "What a breathtaking sight you are taking me like this, kriffing hells. I'm gonna cum," Echo stammered as his hips faltered narrowly.

You'd hardly been able to process anything he'd been saying, too deafened by the passion though you felt his hips shift a bit, slowing their pace and you begged, "Inside, inside please."

"Maker, y-you can't say it l-like that," Echo chided with a choked moan, "I-I," and with a shocked gasp, Echo's hips stilled as they pressed into you. The Mandalorian praises that intermingled with your name, the way his mouth fell to your shoulder, leaving open-mouthed kisses, everything coalesced to a white flash shooting through your body. A sob of his name reverberated off of the bathroom walls, echoing around the two of you as your release hit you. The force seemed to hit your knees and you faltered on your feet but were caught quickly by Echo's scomp-link arm, reeling you back into him.

"Careful there," the smile in his voice evident as he nosed at your temple, pressing a few gentle kisses along your cheek. "Just relax, I gotcha." The gentleness of his touches weaved around you, lulling you against his firm body and the mechanical parts cool against your hot skin. "Sorry, I know some of the pieces might be prodding you." He winced at the thought abruptly.

You shook your head in response, steadying yourself against him by wrapping your arms around his neck and nuzzling closer. "Perfect… You're cool, it feels good, don't move."

Echo was once again left silent by your unconditional favor of all of him. "You continually amaze me," his chuckle affectionate as he hugged you closer. "Now, let's get dressed and get out of this filthy place. I've been thinking about another holomovie we could watch."

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glorystark · 2 months

Text

Empty eyes | Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean doesn't take Charlie's death too well and because of the Mark of Cain affecting him, he tells you things that will regret.

Warnings: moc!Dean Winchester, Dean being a dick, minor mentions of injury, swearing, ANGST, major character's death

Pairing: Dean Winchester × reader

Featuring: Sam Winchester

Word count: 2,3k

We watched in agony as Charlie's body, wrapped around a white sheet, burned in the flames. This should never have happened to her kind soul. She died so we could save Dean. I couldn't help but feel guilty; my heart ached because I lost a friend, again. I knew Sam felt the same. We both asked Charlie for help with the Book of the Damned, and we both lied to Dean about the book being destroyed. Now it was too late to make things right. Memories flashed through my eyes, making me tear up. I remembered when she helped us with the Dick situation, or when I taught her some hunter-kind-of-tricks. How happy she was and wouldn't stop thanking me. She didn't deserve this, anyone but her.

“Charlie,” Sam started, grabbing my and probably Dean's attention. “We are gonna miss you. You're the best.” He stopped when his voice cracked, and now I was sure he felt far worse than me because looking back, he suggested not telling Dean about the Book of the Damned not being destroyed, which I didn't agree with at first. But seeing Dean, my Dean, slowly fade away right in front of my eyes changed my opinion. Maybe it was selfish, me and Sam both were. But we couldn't let Dean become something he fears, a Monster. We couldn't lose another person, another family member, but we didn't realize who we were putting in danger on this path.

“We love you, Charlie, and I'm so sorry,” I said, blinking through tears.

“Shut up,” Dean said coldly, making Sam and me look at him. “You got her killed. You don't get to apologize.” He continued.

“Dean-“ Sam started, but Dean cut him off.

“You too, you two are the reason she is dead,” he said, not taking his eyes off the flames.

“We were trying to help you,” I said, still looking at him.

“I didn't need help,” he said bitterly. "I told you to leave it alone.”

“What were we supposed to do, just watch you die?” Sam asked, not letting me be the only one receiving the cold tone from his older brother.

“The mark isn't gonna kill me.”

“Maybe not, but when it's done with you, you won't be you anymore,” I stated. “Dean, you're all we got. So of course we were gonna fight for you because that's what we do,” I said softly.

“Yeah, she's right, we had a shot-“ Sam was cut off again by Dean.

“Yeah, you had a shot. Charlie is dead.” He finally turned his head to look at me and his brother, who was standing next to me. His dark emerald eyes bore into mine, and I couldn't recognize them. Never have I ever seen him look at me with those eyes. Because no matter how much crap we went through, he always made sure I was fine, and his eyes held nothing but sweetness and, on most occasions, worry. “Nice shot.”

“Are you even listening to me? You think I'm ever gonna forgive myself for that?!” I snapped, not being able to keep my voice down anymore. He is grieving, but so am I. If I could, I would trade places with her.

“You know what I think,” he started, still with the same voice tone. “I think it should be you up there and not her.”

I felt my heart break for the hundredth time today. I parted my lips, not taking my teary eyes off him, which clearly showed how hurt I was. Sam let out a small gasp and widened his eyes after he heard Dean's words, clearly not expecting his brother to go that far.

I knew he blamed me, probably even more than Sam. But knowing that he wanted me dead hurt more than any physical torture I've experienced.

Sam called his name, still shocked after what he heard, but his brother just walked away, breaking my heart more and more.

—————

It has been a week since I lost Charlie, since I lost my Dean. He has been searching for the Stynes ever since but has been having a bit of trouble finding their location. So meanwhile, he went on a few solo hunts. He hasn't said a word to me and to Sam, just a few like ‘buy some beers’ ‘did you find anything about the Stynes’.

He found another hunt for today and was packing his bag in his own room. We both haven't stepped in our shared room ever since the accident, which meant we weren't even sleeping on the same bed. I'm done with being ignored, so I knocked on his door and opened it without waiting for any response. He didn't even turn around, probably knowing it was me.

“Dean,” I called his name, not even knowing what I wanna talk about, but getting him to look at me was the first step. “Dean,” I called, this time louder, and when he still didn't turn around, I walked towards him and grabbed his arm. “Alright, I'm done. When will you finally stop ignoring me?!”

He looked at my hand, which was grabbing his arm, and slowly turned around, finally looking at my face. “I'm not ignoring you, I just don't want to talk to you or be near you,” he said bitterly, pulling his arm away and reaching for his door.

“Dean, you know you're not the only one who lost someone, okay? And believe me, I know it's my fault she's gone, and I'll never forgive myself for that. But, god, you're practically killing me. I miss you,” I said desperately, waiting for something in his eyes to change, waiting for him to embrace me in his strong arms, but... Nothing. His eyes didn't even hold hatred anymore, just emptiness.

“I don't know what you expect me to say, ‘I'm sorry you were so stupid’ ‘I'm sorry you got another person killed off’ ‘I'm sorry you're so fucking useless’ Huh?! Is that what you want me to say? You want me to feel sorry for you?!” he yelled, showing the anger and darkness in his eyes while he harshly slammed me to the wall, making me whimper slightly. His words cut deep into my skin, but I tried my best to ignore them, knowing this Dean wasn't really my Dean.

“I want you to understand, I want you to know that I'm sorry. I want you to tell me that we're gonna go through this like we always do,” I said softly, looking deeply into his eyes, trying to crack him.

He let out a dark chuckle and grasped my shoulders, lowering his head to be on the same height level with me. “You want me to tell you that we're gonna go through this? Well, baby, in that way, I'd be a big liar.”

“Dean, me and Sam, we are so close to saving you. Please, just don't let the mark control you,” I begged, feeling small under his touch.

“I don't want nor need you two saving me, and believe me, at this very moment, I'm trying to not let the mark control me, so don't provoke me,” he whispered against my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

"I thought you trusted me.”

“Well, that trust was destroyed when you got someone who was like a sister to me killed. Have you ever noticed how many innocent people died because you were being too stupid?” he said harshly.

"We all have made mistakes, Dean," I said, as I thought about the hunts where innocent people died, and I couldn't save them. I didn't want Dean to know how much his words were affecting me, but, god, I felt like a crumpled paper.

“Seems like that's the only thing you ever do,” he smirked, letting his eyes fall on the floor again before looking up at my eyes again. “Tell me, how does it feel knowing you don't mean anything to anybody and you're just a burden in our lives? How does it feel knowing nobody loves you?”

That's it. That was the punch line to make me break into tears.

“Y-you love me, you said that before.”

“You know I lie to get laid,” he said, smirking, proud of his response.

My heart was racing more and more, and I felt nauseous.

“Dean, please-“

“You're nothing, do you hear me? Nothing!” he grabbed my cheeks harshly. “Your existence doesn't matter. You.don't.matter.” he said, spitting the words out before letting me go. He took his bag and walked out of the room, not even glancing at me. I slid down the wall as I started sobbing silently.

Then I heard a buzz from my phone.

New message from Sammy:

“Y/N, Dean just said he found a hunt, probably three to four werewolves, and he told me to go with him. I was really surprised but didn't question him. I think he's getting better. I'll also talk to him on the road. Next time, he'll definitely ask you too, just like old times. Don't stay up and don't worry; we got this :) love you.”

He asked Sam to go, but not me. If he hadn't told me that he hated me a few minutes ago, I'd think he was worried. But if it was really 3 or 4 werewolves, there's nothing to be worried about. He just wants to stay away from me. He told me I was a burden to them; he'll probably throw me out of the bunker soon.

Dark thoughts ran through my mind, and suddenly a rush of anxiety ran through me. What if there were more than a few werewolves? What if they get hurt? What if Dean hates me even more?

I checked Sam's message again and saw that he sent me the address of where the werewolves' location is and where the hunt would probably take place. I quickly rushed to my room, grabbed my car keys, and went to drive to the location.

—————

I was hiding behind some of the trees in the forest, watching as each of the boys fought one werewolf, two already dead ones on the floor.

Everything seemed good so far; I mean, their guns were on the floor, but they were fighting each werewolf single handed and there was no need for me to make my presence known. The boys were winning as always. And that's when I realized they don't really need me in their life. I knew the words that came out of Dean's mouth tonight weren't really Dean's, my Dean. But he was somehow right; before I became the hunter I am today, I made many mistakes. Some were small, and some led to people getting hurt or even killed. I also put their lives in danger multiple times because I was being reckless. Finding the demons that killed my parents blinded my vision. I was ready to get back to the bunker when I saw both of the werewolves giving up until I noticed something.

A werewolf close to Sam's back, and it seemed like none of the brothers noticed him. I searched for my gun but remembered I forgot it in the backseat of my car. I cursed under my breath and did the only thing possible right now to save Sam. I couldn't let Dean lose another person, especially his brother, who I knew meant the world to him. I couldn't put him through something like that again when there's a chance to save the younger Winchester.

So I ran towards Sam, trying my best to not slip because of the woods on the floor. The Werewolf was close, and nobody noticed him. I'm not the only stupid one after all. The boys turned their heads to me for a slight second, surprised at my presence, but didn't stop fighting the other werewolves.

Until I pushed Sam away from the werewolf he was fighting onto the floor. He seemed confused at first, until he saw it. I assumed Dean did too but couldn't be too sure since he was behind me. I let out an agonizing scream when the werewolf grazed his claws into my stomach and the other one, which Sam was fighting before, grazed his claws into my back before my lifeless body fell on the floor. Dean didn't hesitate more seconds before getting his gun from the floor and shooting all the werewolves.

I was bleeding like a waterfall from my body and my mouth. But the good thing is-

I didn't feel any pain, or anything in that matter…

Dean Winchester’s Pov:

No no no.

This can't be happening.

It's all a nightmare, just another stupid nightmare.

I heard Sam's crying voice telling the love of my life, his best friend, to wake up, holding her torn apart body in his arms, asking her why she pushed him away. But there was no answer.

It's a nightmare happening in real life.

Her beautiful y/e/c are open but so empty, unrecognizable.

I stood over her body, not being able to move from my spot.

There is so much blood everywhere.

Her blood.

This is hell.

No, I’ve been to hell and it's worse than hell.

I started tearing up more and more, reality hitting me more every second.

I let out an angry scream and fell on my knees when I remembered my last words to her.

“You're nothing, do you hear me? Nothing! Your existence doesn't matter. You.don't.matter.”

She wasn't nothing, she was my everything.

She mattered, she was the reason I kept going, now she's gone and it's all my fault.

All my fault.

All of the words I said came back to me, making my chest hurt.

As I knelt beside her lifeless body, surrounded by the aftermath of our shattered world, I whisper into the silent abyss, "I'm sorry, Y/N. I'm so sorry."

And deep down I felt the Mark laughing…

344 notes · View notes

dragonrider9905 · 2 months

Text

Infectious Love

Summery: After a failed, almost confession of love, you and Hunter's relationship is skating on thin ice...that is, until someone falls through (or gets stabbed in the gut), so to speak.

Warnings: Angst, lots of it, but comfort too. Lots of emotions. Mentions of blood and sickness.

Hellooooooooo @imaginesfordifferentfandoms tis I, your Secret Santa in the @cloneficgiftexchange!!!!! I really, really, hope you like it. I worked really hard on it ;D So I hope it turned out the way I imagined it in my head ;D Enjoy this kinda longish drabble XD Hehehehe now you understand all the questions I asked. I hope you don't mind I went with Hunter. You seemed to not mind any of them; he's my favorite so I know I can get carried away :D and I wanted to make sure the story was nice! Also, I gave Hunter's scarf a destiny. A fate. A sense of purpose. We now know what happened to it. I have spoken.

Furthermore, I'd like to throw a huge shout out to some people who deserve it. Firstly, @ghostofskywalker. Thank you so much for organizing this event and all the other ones like it. They are always so much fun and I enjoy them immensely. It is safe to say the others who join feel the same way. Thank you for all the hard work you put into it all! Also, thank you to @photogirl894 for being an awesome beta reader and supportive friend. I don't know if I would have finished this fic on time if she hadn't helped me through all the rough spots by her encouraging words. Bestie, you read everything but the ending...I hope you like it <3

The decree is written, now, let the story unfold.

“As a father, you couldn’t ask for a better place to raise a child.”

You’d heard Shep say these words to Hunter your first day on Pabu, and you had to admit, it made your heart flutter a little bit. You’d fallen hard for Hunter a long time ago but duty always got in the way. At first, you hadn’t realized just how much you cared for him during the Clone War, serving as their medic, until Hunter received a shot in the chest. It was then that you realized, or rather were honest with yourself, that your friendship was always more than just a friendship. Almost losing him gave you a clarity and an honesty with yourself that you needed, but that didn’t make things easy. In fact, they made them harder.

Because now you knew how YOU felt, but you had NO IDEA how he felt. Every day, you’d face a new challenge, a new battle, overcome insurmountable odds against the Separatists on top secret missions and won. Every night, you’d have a heart to heart with Hunter, talking about things that made him laugh, made you laugh, things that made you cry, or things that upset him.

But never unburying that heavy secret locked away in your heart.

You considered yourself brave in many aspects but not when it came to problems with the heart. You could tell Hunter anything and everything, except how you felt about him. Instead, you’d find little things every day to show him you loved him. You’d fix his caf the way he liked it, you’d make sure the others were considerate of his sense, you listened to him when he wanted to rant, you showed him you trusted him. You were his shoulder to lean on, his unofficial right hand man. Technically, Crosshair filled those shoes but not always. You tried to be the head of reason when the boys fought and patched them up when they were done arguing.

Then the Clone War ended with fateful Order 66. Your world turned upside down and even though circumstances were different, your situation was the same.

That secret would have to be pried out of your cold dead hands.

You’d been on the run, constantly in fear for your lives and that of the child in your care. You’d started to love her as your own daughter, and you could see Hunter did too. You’d seen Hunter with Cut and Suu’s children before, but somehow, this was different. He’d cared for her as a father would. And that made your heart melt more than you ever thought it could.

Now, here on Pabu, having something that resembled peace and a chance at a life, was it time? Could you actually have the dream you despaired of. The dream which was a nightly comfort but in the morning seemed unreachable as something you thought you couldn’t hope for?

Shep’s words teased you. Taunted you. Pried at you.

Perhaps, perhaps it was time to open your heart?

“So have you reconsidered staying?”

“For soldiers, putting down roots is an occupational hazard.”

“Is that all you are? Soldiers?”

You’d seen the thoughtful look on Hunter’s face. It was the one he made when he was considering something. There was no contention, just thoughtful pondering.

Somehow, some way, that moment spurred you and you worked up the courage.

Hunter sat in the cockpit, swirling his knife. You approached and leaned against the door. You’d love to sit there and watch that for hours. You smiled a little to yourself, waiting for him to recognize your presence so as to not scare him into a mistake (not that he’d ever but…better be safe than sorry.)

“Echo said he’s on his way. Will be here in a few rotations.” he said without looking up. “Omega will be glad to see him.”

“Yeah, she misses him, the poor kid.”

Sheaving his knife, he turned to you.

“So, what can I help you with?”

“Oh, you know, just checking in on my Sargeant. You’ve been in here all day.” You placed some fruit native to Pabu in front of him. You never could remember the name, but you’d noticed he liked them.

“Thanks,” he gave half a smile while you took the seat next to him. “What kind of trouble are Wrecker and Omega getting into?”

“Ohhhh probably best not to know right now. Just enjoy the few moments of peace while you can.”

He chuckled and cut into the fruit.

“Soooooo” your heart pounded. You were actually going to do it. You got this…just had to breathe and remain steady, it’d be ok.

Hunter gave you a side eye, silently offering you a piece of the fruit. Kriff, he can tell. You tried to slow your heart best you could.

“So.” He prompted you.

You laughed. “I heard Shep the other day. Something about settling down…ever think about it?”

He sighed. “More than you know. I honestly don’t know what to do about it. I’d like to but… It’s … complicated.”

“Ever think about marrying a pretty woman and having a family? Raising Omega somewhere safe where she’d be happy…”

He huffed a little.

“Who’d I marry? Please don’t suggest the woman Wrecker’s friend was trying to set me up with.”

At the words, the muscles in your face felt heavy and turned sour. The twinkle in your eye went out and the joy in your demeanor dissolved.

An empty smile remained on your face. No indication to the outsider that anything had changed. But Hunter wasn’t an outsider. He knew you inside and out.

Who’d I marry? You weren’t even a consideration. You weren’t on the list. Of course you wouldn’t be. It’d be foolish for you to think that. Why’d you hope in the first place? You should have known better.

Swallowing hard, you bit back tears and forced a laugh.

You had Hunter’s full attention now. He sat up straight and leaned forward a bit.

He immediately sensed the change of demeanor. Your heart rate plummeted but beat hard. Your focus was gone, staring into nothing. Even if it was just for a millisecond, he’d have noticed it, but it lasted longer than that.

Your hollow laugh filled the cabin.

He knew he messed up.

Hunter moved to speak again but it was too late. You’d gotten up and moved toward the door.

“Well um, I should go check on Omega and Wrecker and see what they’re up to before they do too much damage. Yeah, yeah…”

The next moment you were out of the cabin and down the ramp without a second look behind you.

Kriff. He had to fix this.

He almost went after you. He almost made it out the ship, but an incoming transmission stopped him. This could be the one he was waiting for. He looked longingly out to where he saw you hugging yourself, making your way slowly across the shipyard, and went back inside the ship.

Kark it all. This’d better be important, Echo.

Tech was gone. Omega was taken. Crosshair a prisoner. Echo abandoned them, again. It was just you, Wrecker and Hunter now. A ship once filled to bursting with life and light, warm with the love and laughter shared between its walls, was now cold with an emptiness, a magnanimous devoid maw that the ship had never known before.

Tech was dead. Crosshair was gone. Omega was taken.

He was lost.

Hunter might as well have added you to the list of lost as well, because even though you were physically on the ship, you weren’t with him. You were distant. Gone. In every way possible other than physical. You’d done your best to keep Wrecker and himself together. You’d been the same insurmountable strength you’d always been for them to lean on. You were being the strong one for them because you knew they couldn’t right now. He was angry, frustrated, focused and lost all in one but didn’t know where to direct that energy. As always, you came through. You acted the same as how you did throughout the entire Clone War, except not. The actions were all there, but there was a lost life to it.

A lost love.

And it was his fault.

Though you were strong, you weren’t invincible.

During the day you’d serve them. Got them food, made sure they rested, used every resource imaginable to find the little lost loved one. You tried to make them laugh and smile if you could or focus on the task at hand. Completing small missions to get by was his bane, because all Hunter wanted to do was find Omega, but you brought him back to the present, reeled in his reckless side when it got to be too much. You kept track of the inventory and how and when to push on.

But every night he’d hear you silently cry yourself to sleep.

You’d go and comfort Wrecker, then you’d offer the best gesture you could to him to encourage him, then you’d retire to your bed, broken down by the day. Tired, exhausted, empty.

He saw it. And he caused it.

And he hated himself for it.

He’d lost you in a hasty, foolish sentence. One he’d said without much forethought. One he said because he was afraid if he’d said too much, or given any indication of the deeper feelings he had for you, you’d have rejected him and he’d lose you entirely. He thought he could be your friend. You deserved so much more. So much more than himself and what he could offer. He’d wanted to stay your friend so that way, even though he couldn’t have you, you’d be happy. He’d make sure that whoever he was, the man you’d marry would give you all the love he couldn’t.

Turns out he was wrong.

You did return his feelings and he broke you.

He should have gone after you, but he didn’t. He thought he’d have time. He thought he could do it when you’d return to the ship and he could sit down with you uninterrupted but he was wrong, so wrong. Echo arrived and in moments, though he didn’t know it, his life turned upside down. When the mission was declared, his focus turned to that.

He should have talked to you. He should have let you know how he felt.

But the manner of your hurt shifted. You were no longer hurt, but cold.

Perhaps you didn’t want him to love you anymore. He didn’t know what to do. So much was wrong. So much that shouldn’t have been, was now his reality.

In truth, you DID deserve more than him. Perhaps this was for the best. This hurt would pass and you’d meet the one you were supposed to be with. You could get over this fancy for him and live an actual life with someone else.

The thought made his stomach churn and threatened to vomit, but perhaps, that’s what was meant to be.

After all, sometimes to love someone you had to let them go. And Omega, she needed him right now, fully focused on nothing else but finding her.

It was late in the night watch, Hunter sat alone staring at the broken pair of goggles and a plush toy that belonged to the child of the ship. His child, not by blood but by choice.

Taken from him in a cruel twist of fate.

He closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair. Hunter wasn’t normally one for crying but he felt close to it now. He didn’t know what to do, but he knew Omega took priority over himself. He HAD to find her. Bring her home. Oh Force, what was Hemlock doing to her?

He felt his head start to pound and his brow furrowed.

It hurt so much to love. This was love, wasn’t it? After all, what would he know? All he knew of it was what was in the novels and holofilms…

Something cold touched his head and he jumped in surprise. Opening his eyes, he found you had taken a few steps back surprised, with a blanket and an ice pack in hand.

It didn’t go unnoticed you’d had the scent of fresh tears on your hands.

“I’m sorry, I thought you were in one of your uncomfortable sleep cycles.” You offered gently. “You looked like you had a headache so I brought you this.” You shook the ice pack.

Hunter sat up and rubbed his head. “I…can’t sleep.”

He looked down. It was so hard to keep your gaze. His throat tightened and tears sprung against his will. All he could do was sigh, long and heavy.

Hunter was silent, not knowing what to say. He tried opening his mouth a few times but closed it at every attempt, frustrated.

You slowly drew near him, considerate as you always were. Giving him a chance to stop you if he wanted or needed, but he didn’t. You crouched down in front of him and took his hands.

A shock of surprise sprung his head up immediately and sent a shiver through his body. His brain registered your hands were cold and instinctively he moved to warm them, covering them completely with his own. But his mind was fully focused on your face.

Your eyes glittered with unshed tears and your mouth had a half, crooked smile. A ghost of the one you’d had before. But there was something in your gaze he’d missed, he’d longed for.

It was ‘that’ look.

You hadn't looked at him like that in a long time.

There was a warmth and a love aflame. A gentleness that hadn’t been there these long past few weeks.

If eyes were truly the window to the soul, he’d seen that the embers were dying, but not gone.

You squeezed his hand.

“We’ll find her. I promise.”

There was such a conviction in your voice, determination. A rawness that almost freighted him. A testament to the power you had. The power of your will and spirit. The power of your determination. One of the reasons he loved you so much. One of the elements in your looks that he yearned to see again after missing it for so long.

He squeezed your hands.

“Thank you for everything.” He swallowed hard, voice now scratchy and sore.

You nodded and stood, pulling your hands from his. You placed the pack on his forehead and placed the blanket on him in two swift motions and made to go. You were fast, but not too fast for him. You’d tried to retreat, but Hunter jumped and grabbed your arms, centering you to himself.

A surprised look crossed your face and he saw you searching him, wondering.

“We need to talk.”

You looked away, tears starting to gather again, a breath catching in your throat wanting to break free.

Hunter cupped your face with his hand and slowly, softly turned your gaze back to him.

“Please.”

You nodded, but then looked away again.

“Ok, but not now.” Your voice was heavy and empty. That void look entered your eyes, extinguishing the flame that was there before.

“No, you should get some sleep, you look exhausted. You’re always looking after us. Tonight, take care of yourself, yeah?” He rubbed his thumb against your cheek, whipping away a tear that escaped. “Tomorrow.”

You nodded. “Tomorrow.”

Lifting the blanket you’d brought for him, Hunter placed it over your shoulders with a reassuring squeeze then turned back to his chair, cradling the ice pack to his forehead.

Tomorrow came, but started off all wrong. Emergency lights flashed and sirens blared. The Marauder made an emergency landing on the treacherous mountainous planet below. The hyperdrive malfunctioned and threw you out of hyperspace. It was a tumultuous, uncontrolled landing but Hunter managed with minimal damage to the exterior of the ship. The haul was a little banged up, but other than that, the smoking hyperdrive was the focus of your concern.

There was no Tech to fix the ship now. You were on your own.

“Do you think you can fix it?” Hunter looked at you worriedly. You’d helped Tech plenty of times in the past. You considered yourself pretty capable with all the training you received from him.

Taking a look around, you carefully considered.

“I think so, but it’s going to take time. This superficial stuff I’m not too worried about. We’ll have to make port somewhere soon anyway for supplies. We’re low on everything.” You’d been looking at the inventory the last few days and the lists were concerning. “I think we have enough credits to get by until we can do a job and earn more.” You rubbed your forehead. “I’ve been running numbers on how to keep ourselves sustained without needing to distract ourselves from our mission with a whole bunch of side missions anymore. I think it’ll work but you’re going to have to trust me. But I digress. I’ll patch up the hyperdrive which seems to be the main problem. I’ve got a weird feeling about this place, I don’t want to be here too long. Weather might not hold out for extensive repairs either.”

“Alright, we’ll discuss this when I get back. I’ll scout the area and see what we’re dealing with.” Hunter turned to leave, then paused. Half looking back he spoke: “And, I do. Trust you, I mean.”

With that he put his helmet on and shouted to Wrecker.

“Keep her safe. I’ll be right back.”

It’d been an hour. And Hunter wasn’t back.

Whipping the sweat from your forehead you heaved a big breath.

“I think that’ll do it Wreck. Where’s Hunt?”

Wrecker looked nervous. “Not back yet.”

You looked at your wrist chrono and raised your eyebrows in surprise. Highly unusual.

“Ok, I’ll go look for him. Protect the ship.”

“We should stay together.” Wrecker added quickly, “I’ll come with you.”

“I would like that too but at this moment that’s a luxury we can’t afford. We have to split up.”

Wrecker groaned. “Bad things ALWAYS happen when we split up.”

You softened and patted his shoulder comfortingly.

“I know, big guy, I know. But the less we argue, the sooner we get Hunt back.”

Wrecker paused and nodded. “Ok.” He sighed and took his place by the ramp of the ship. “And…..it’s good to hear you call Hunter, Hunt again…”he trailed off uncertainly, “but it’s kinda making me scared. You think he’s….?”

Your heart clenched in realization. You didn’t think how your hurt would shed and affect others. “Oh Wrecker….” You started but he stopped you.

“Aw Doc, I am just worried about ya. You two always meshed together, you know? So when you didn’t, and now get soft again…” He shook his head. “Get Hunter back, and everything will be ok, yeah?”

“Yeah, it will. I promise.” You started off your sentence quaking but with every word you found your conviction. It was time to go.

“I hope you two can work things out. I always liked it that way, ya know?”

You smiled, “Yeah I do actually, and I did too.”

“Well, do you think that … whatever happened…you two can fix it?”

Your smile faltered a little bit but Wrecker didn’t see that. Really, only Hunter would have been the one to notice.

“I’ll do my best.”

With one last nod to Wrecker, you set out.

You weren’t exceptional at tracking but Hunter taught you a thing or two.

It was time to bring Hunter home.

Hunter skirted the edge of the cliff carefully. His foot set a few loose rocks tumbling into the unknown. Knife unsheathed and corned against the endless void beneath him, he glared at his enemy. Hunter met these villains almost as soon as he left the ship. It didn’t take him long to realize their harmful intentions and led them away from the ship, hoping to buy you as much time as he could to fix the ship. He’d taken out ten of these bandits already, but this one was of a higher status, he could tell by the large hat he wore and more expensive weapons he possessed. He’d be more of a challenge but that would only make it more fun.

Hunter growled and lifted his knife in the ready. Blood and sweat dripped from his face from the few scratches and scrapes he had.

He was prepared for anything.

“Get away from him!” An agonized voice filled with terror screamed.

Your voice.

Hunter’s heart dropped to his stomach and for the first time since the crash, terror entered his veins. He was prepared for everything, except that.

Garnishing your blade, you swiped the air to show the mysterious stranger you were serious. “Leave him alone!”

Hunter’s throat closed up. You didn’t have your blaster, and while still decent with the blade, you weren’t ready for this yet. He hadn’t finished your training.

“Meshla, no!”

Hunter reached out, distracted only for a moment but a moment is all it took. In the second he tried to get in between you and the enemy, a kick to his stomach sent Hunter over the side

“Hunter!” You screamed after him in terror.

What you didn’t see was the flip he made or how he grappled onto the rock. If only you had the enhanced senses he did, you might have heard his hard breathing, the uneven sob, and the continuous prayer that somehow you could live long enough for him to get to you.

His heart pounded. He wanted to call for you but that’d only make things worse for you. He grunted as silently as he could. He had to get to you.

He heard your angry grunts, the slices of knives through the air, missing their marks. He heard you yelling unintelligibly and savagely. The man’s gleeful laughter.

Your painful cry.

Those were some of the longest seconds of his life. What happened? He tried to climb faster but the rock was so slippery.

Watching Hunter get shot. Finding him shot again in the same place all this time later by Cad Bane, and now seeing Hunter tumble over the edge was more than you could handle. Anger like you’d never felt it bubbling all over you, tingling your fingers and guiding your blade’s every movement with hardened focus.

No, you couldn’t lose him like this. You wouldn’t. The man was quick, practiced. But you’d had a good teacher. Now wasn’t the time to doubt. Sure, you wished your blaster had survived the raid on Ord Mantel but there was nothing you could do about that except replace it when you made port.

You tumbled, dived, parried. This demon wouldn’t win. He made a hit on your arm and you cried out. The evil, smug smile he had was enough to refocus you instantly. Jumping for him unexpectedly, you caught him by surprise. You pushed your entire body against his in a close roll.

And your blade found a home in his heart.

Breathing hard, it took you a moment to realize…you’d won. You defeated him! Hunter would be so proud.

Hunter!

Diving for the cliff, you slid toward the edge.

“Hunter? Hunter!”

Hunter looked up at you, face hidden behind his visor but all the emotions were spilling from his mouth. “Are you ok? Mesh’la, what the karking hells?”

“Grab my hand!” Ignoring him, you reached down. “I’ll pull you up.”

Hunter clasped your hand but you let out a cry of agony. Collapsing in a heaping pile. You were shaking but your grip held firm.

“Mesh’la…”

“Don’t you dare let go. Don’t you dare.” Your demand was dry and forceful, but fear spilled from every word. “Please.” Your plea was soft, broken.

“Alright.” He tightened his grip.

Tears streamed down your face as you panted, hulling him up. Hunter seemed so heavy. You’d done exercises like this before and it was a lot easier. Hunter seemed to notice your lack of strength too.

You pulled and heaved and scooted and rolled until you managed to get his body over the lump. Immediately, Hunter started his barrage on you in between heaving breaths of his own.

“What were you thinking? Don’t you know you could have gotten yourself killed?”

You got to your feet and brushed yourself off, head dizzy with emotion and adrenaline.

“Do you,” you panted, “have any idea what you did to me? Don’t start with me…”

“Oh honey, just wait until I get started—“

You turned to look at Hunter who also had gotten to his feet, the words registering, but sounding quite distant. Was he yelling? You weren't sure. Suddenly, your breath was knocked from your lungs and a sharp pain invaded your entire body.

Falling to your knees, you clutched your side to find it wet and sticky, and warm. You didn't need to pull your hand away to look at it to know there was blood, yet that's what you did, and you were shocked nevertheless to find the red, sticky substance on your hands. Gasping with wide eyes, you missed Hunter’s cry of alarm.

“You’re bleeding!”

Hunter ran over to you and caught you as you crumpled to the ground in pain. Gathering you to himself, he rested your body against his.

Tearing off his scarf from around his neck, Hunter pressed it to your wound.

“You’re losing so much blood.”

“Nah, I know exactly where it is. Here, there, and a little over there.”

“Not funny.”

“I thought it was.” you faintly chuckled.

With a dark look, he cut the red fabric into strips and bound your abdomen tightly.

“I’ll get you back to the ship as soon as I can, just hold on for me ok?”

You nodded but your eyes now felt so heavy. You just wanted to sleep.

Scooping you up, Hunter started at a full run.

The bouncing hurt. Every pounding bounce sent fire mixed with ice through your body. Your head rolled back and your eyes shut.

“Hey, hey, cyare, look at me. Look at me! Don’t give up on me yet, please.”

Hunter came in running.

“Wrecker! Wrecker! Get the ship started, we’re leaving NOW!”

Wrecker didn’t miss a beat. He saw you dangling limpless in Hunter’s arms and dashed up the walkway. Wrecker tore through the room, doing the start up sequences as fast as he could then meeting Hunter in the gangway, he threw the med kit at him.

Back in the cockpit, Wrecker took the controls.

Placing you in his bed, Hunter slapped your face.

“I know you’re in there, wake up! Wake up! Don’t leave me now, I need you. I can’t do this without you. Omega is depending on you. You’re stronger than this, come on!”

Injecting you quickly with a stim and re-wrapping your wounds, Hunter frantically chaffed your wrists until your eyes fluttered open.

“Hunter?” You were looking around, trying to sit up.

“Hey, hey don’t get up.” He placed a hand on your forehead, then your pulse points. He felt you slowly but surely starting to equalize. “Just rest for a bit, ok? I’m going to stay right here if you need anything.” He pulled up a chair next to you.

“I’m ok,” you smiled weakly, “I was so scared when I saw those tracks. I thought I’d lost you again. But you’re ok, and that’s all that matters to me.” You squeezed his hand, then let the darkness take you.

All was still and dark. The Marauder gently rocked in what would pass for the early hours of the morning, if there really could be a morning or night in space.

All was still and quiet inside the Marauder. Wrecker was by the controls watching the ship’s course and motion beacons, Hunter was fast asleep, leaned over the bed and holding your hand.

You on the other hand were restless. Buckets of sweat fell from your forehead. Dizzy and disoriented, even laying down, a nauseous feeling crept up your stomach into your throat.

You wormed your hand out of Hunters, not wanting to wake him. It’d been too long since he’d gotten any sleep at all and at last the complete and utter exhaustion took him over. You pushed on the bed, attempting and failing to drag yourself up.

You glanced at Hunter, considering only for a moment, then resurfaced your determination. No, you’d let him rest. You could do this. Grasping the blanket’s cocooning you, you attempted to untangle the heavy sheet entwining you. It was so heavy, suffocating.

With a heaving breath, you pushed your feet off the bed and lunged your body forward.

You were standing.

But as soon as you got up, you realized your mistake. The ship spun and the dull aches over your body were awakened. Your stomach’s pain blew its trumpet and your ears felt like balloons that were going to pop. You must have swallowed marbles because there was barely any room in your throat.

Oh well, you could only push forward.

Stumbling into the bathroom, you turned on the cold water. Perhaps that would help.

The first thing Hunter noticed was his hand was cold and clammy. The lack of warmth left a devoid and empty feeling embedded with a nervous foreboding.

Next came the darkness, which became a haze, and that haze turned into a bubble as he fought he was to consciousness. The bed in front of him was empty and Hunter could vaguely make out the things around him, noises indecipherable. He thought he heard trudging of feet scraping against the floor, the turning of a facet with the gush of water, then a loud crash, and thud with a BAM!

Instantly his body was alert. Dashing toward the source of the sound, he knew subconsciously what he’d find. Your body on the floor, sprawled out and drained. Your face was pale as death, eyes hollow. You didn’t look like this a few hours ago?

“Mesh’la? mesh’la! what happened? Did you hit your head? Why are you up?” A thousand questions spilled from his mouth in worry.

Worming his body behind yours, he gathered you up gently. You mumbled something that was lost even to his hearing.

Concerned, Hunter removed his gloves, and placed them on your face.

You leaned into his warmth, shivering, unable to get warm, yet your skin felt like fire to him. You were burning. Beads of sweat danced on your forehead as large as the tears that fell from your eyes.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Cradling you now, he carefully wrapped himself around your body. This allowed you to curl in on yourself and tuck yourself in further to his chest.

“‘M sry.”

Kriff, you could barely speak.

“Don’t be sorry. I got you now.”

“Hunter, I-I can’t hear you too well.”

A wall of realization hit him hard. Kark it, he knew what happened.

The fever, the swelling, the loss of balance and your voice, not to mention your hearing?

You had an infection.

Fear invaded Hunter’s senses. He’d never been sick like this, having super immune genetics (one thing to thank the long necks for he supposed). But now, how could he help if he didn’t know what you were going through exactly?

This wasn’t the first time you were sick like this. He remembered the story you told of your childhood, and how one winter, you fell through the ice which resulted in something like this. The incident left you vulnerable and weakened, and he worried about you.

You were tough and fought it out. But what if you couldn’t fight this one off? Would your second brush with death be enough to claim you?

Tears swelled your eyes and poured onto your cheeks. Small sobs started to wrack your body as emotion overtook you.

“I…sorry…don’t burnden…’Mega, gotta find…”

“Hey, hey, it’s ok, I got you, I got you. You’re not a burden. We’ll get you better then we’ll find her. Hey, I got you, it’s ok.” Hunter had no idea how he managed to sound so calm. He’d never seen you like this before and it terrified him. Your small sniffles and hiccups reminded him of a small child. Every nerve and essence of his being screamed at him to protect you.

“I’ll get you some water, I’ll be back. You have to stay hydrated.”

“Stay, I’ll get it.”

Hunter looked up to find Wrecker looking down at the two of you with a sad look in his eyes. “You should be with her.” He disappeared then returned a few minutes later with a full flask of cold water.

Hunter brought it to your lips, but you barely swallowed any before relinquishing your strength to an empty sleep, exhausted by the struggle.

Silence bore down on the three of you as Hunter and Wrecker looked on while you slept an uncomfortable sleep.

“I knew we should have stuck together.” Wrecker said sadly at last, not looking at Hunter. “I told her I’d come with her…”

“It’s not your fault, Wreck.”

“Bad things happen when we split up, I told her that….”

“This is all my fault.” Hunter hung his head. “I—”

“That kind of talk isn’t going to help her, Hunt. Don’t even think that. She made up her own mind. She was scared for ya, Hunt. She even started calling you ‘Hunt’ again.”

Hunter looked up surprised, then back down towards you. You’d stopped that since that morning on Pabu. You’d been formal with him afterward. It was either Sargeant or Hunter.

He shifted then lifted you in his arms, bringing you back to the bed. He set you down then ran his fingers through your damp hair, worry evident in his eyes.

“We need to get her to a hospital, Wreck. I don’t know what to do…Without Tech…I’m really scared right now.”

Wrecker placed a large, comforting hand on Hunter’s shoulder. “Then we go. We’ll get her better, Hunt. Don’t worry. I think we have a few of those fake IDs left Tech made. We’ll make something work.”

Swallowing hard, Hunter nodded.

Instead of letting go, Wrecker’s grip tightened. In one swift motion, Hunter was enveloped in a hug. If he was being honest, he didn’t mind in the least.

Hunter sat by you in silence as the ship flew through hyperspace toward the hospital, watching your fitful sleep. Your forehead was creased in pain and your mouth turned into a pout. One hand carefully stroked your sweat soaked hair, the other intertwined with yours.

The waiting was the worst part. Not being able to do anything to help or accept, fate could only take its course and he could only stand by and watch. The worst enemies were the ones he couldn’t protect you from and he hated that. He couldn’t fight the infection with his blade, or take away your pain by shooting the cause with a blaster bolt.

He leaned his forehead against yours and swallowed a sigh. Was this agony what you'd felt when he'd been shot? He remembered what delicate care you took of him. You'd been more than thoughtful, and tried not to show your concerns but he saw them anyway; just as he could always see you. But there was something else there that at the time he hadn't realized. And now he hoped he hadn't realized it too late.

“You asked me before if I’d settle down like Shep asked……………and in my dreams, yes. I always wanted to, even before he asked, with you. It was you, it was always and only you.”

Silence was your response.

“Please, don’t leave me now. I already lost the others, I can’t lose you too.”

The steady rhythm of your heart was promise enough for him right now, he had to hold onto hope.

“We can take it slow. Take our time. We don’t have to rush into anything but please, please stay with me and I’ll be yours for the rest of our lives. That’s my promise to you. I–I love you. Always have, always will.”

Perhaps if he’d hadn’t been so tired, he would have noticed the slight squeeze of his hand you have him.

Hunter walked into the hospital carrying you wearing civilian clothing hoping he looked more inconspicuous than he felt. He approached the nurse at the front desk.

“Excuse me, my wife needs help. She had an accident…”

“Chain codes.” the nurse said flatly without looking up but holding out her hand.

Hunter fished them out and gave them to her.

“It’s urgent, she needs to see a doctor ri–”

“Just sit down over there and the nurse will be with you shortly.”

“But she needs a doctor NOW!”

The nurse glanced up annoyed.

“Keep that up and she’ll have to wait a full rotation, buddy.”

Hunter glared but didn’t say a word. Normally he would have fought back harder but with your life on the line, he couldn’t find it in himself to do it. So he did as he was bid, and took a seat in the waiting area.

You blinked your eyes open with a smile.

“Hey Handsome.”

You reached up for his face, and he took your hand in his and gave it a quick kiss.

“Hey,” Hunter kept his voice low, giving you a quick smile before making a quick survey of the area, “to catch you up real quick, we’re married. You’re my wife and we took you here after an accident on our farm. You’re going to be ok, ok?”

His eyes darted across your face, looking, searching, for any indication that his words would come true. Even here and now on the brink of being saved, he felt like you’d suddenly vanish and be taken from him.

He didn’t know what he expected from you, a nod of recognition maybe? But he didn’t get that. Instead, you chuckled.

“Married? Already? So much for wanting to take it slow, Hunter.”

To his surprise, a laugh burst from his lips, a smile replacing the worry for a second. He shook his head. Even now, you were trying to look out for him, making him laugh while you were the one who needed help.

“Always looking out for me, aren’t you?” His voice was warm and full. The deepness of his voice like chocolate on your sore ears, not that he’d know that of course. All he could hope for was that you could hear the depth of love and gratitude he had in such a few words.

You smiled, “always have, always will, I promise you that.”

Hunter heard the nurse approach and looked up, only to be faced with a jaw dropping phenomenon.

“How can I help you today? Wait…Hunter?”

It was Nala, your old classmate.

“Nala?” Hunter repeated, stunned. “You work here?”

“Yes…” her eyes drifted down to you.

An unsettled feeling came over Hunter. You hadn’t been in touch with anyone since Order 66. Whose side was Nala on?

He didn’t have to wonder long when her face went white and she dropped down on one knee to be at your level.

“What do you need? Let me assess her and see what I can do.”

Nala came running up carrying various vials and all but shoved them in Hunter’s pockets.

“Give her this as soon as possible. It’s safer for all of you if you just take it and administer it on your ship. I got word of Imperials coming here shortly. I’ve listed instructions on how to give it to her safely. You should go before someone recognizes you and hands you over. Goodbye, and good luck. Take good care of my friend. When she gets better, tell her to give me a call!”

With that, Nala turned and left, trying her hardest not to give an impression of concern.

Back on the ship, Hunter did as instructed. After making sure you were carefully placed in bed and made as comfortable as possible, he enlisted Wrecker’s help as soon as they’d jumped to hyperspace. Hunter knew Wrecker wasn’t going to like it, but there wasn’t another way.

You’ll want to give this one to her first. It’ll regulate her body so she can take the following medications. It’ll help her breathe easier and adjust to what’s coming…it won’t appear so right away so don’t worry. You’re going to need to give this to her in quick succession so don’t wait to see the effects.

Hunter injected the hypo into your arm.

This one is the IV with the antibiotics. Get her hooked up quickly and make sure the bag is drained before you take it out.

He rubbed your arm and inserted the needle.

This one, inject into her chest near her heart. This one will hurt the most.

This one, he couldn’t do.

“This…is going to hurt.”

“I know.” You stared at the ceiling, trying to catch your breath and collect your courage. “It’s ok.”

Of course you knew, you were a medic. He would have cringed at his own words, but he couldn’t help it. His own fear mocked him and he wasn’t ashamed of it. Pain was pain, and nothing could make him like it or want that for you. All he could do was prepare you in any way he could.

Your breathing was labored, huffing your breaths, greedy for air, gluttonously swallowing in as much as your lungs would let you.

“Tell me.” You looked into his eyes, trying to focus, “tell me about it? I can’t seem to remember anything from our big day. What happened? Who was there? How did it go….How did I look?” You huffed a little laugh at the last question, “nevermind, don’t answer that.” Your laugh caused a coughing fit to follow.

Hunter gripped you firmer as your body racked, fear unmasked in his eyes.

Shutting your own, you tried to center yourself.

“Crosshair probably made trouble, didn't he. He and Wreck competed to see who could eat the most cake and got sick, right?” Your voice was nothing other than a whisper, but Hunter could still pick up the dream-like tilt in your voice. The little smile as if it was a real memory, breaking across your lips.

“Of course, would you expect anything less?”

Another chuckle turned into a gasp of air.

Hunter kept his gaze on you as he spoke, his hand on your cheek facing him so you wouldn’t have to see what was to come. Rubbing gentle circles in your cheek and wiping away tears, he tried to speak without a shake in his voice. He didn’t know if he succeeded, but ever after that, he’d remember the images burned in his mind both, of the story he was telling and the raw reality of your pain.

“Tech filmed the entire thing; we’ll have to rewatch it; would you believe Echo had more champagne to drink than anyone? He was so happy the entire night. He was also the only one next to Wrecker to cry.”

You smiled through gritted teeth.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You looked beautiful all dressed in white…” he stumbled over his words now as Wrecker garnished the needle, “your dress dazzled with little jewel thingies and you liked spinning in it because it reminded you of a waterfall or a butterfly’s wing. I couldn’t keep my eyes off you. And when you walked toward me, I was a mess, because I knew I was the luckiest man in the world, and I couldn’t ever have imagined you more beautiful.”

You swallowed hard.

“Omega couldn’t stop smiling or singing; and when the music at the Pabu sunsets starts and the orange sun starts setting in the sky, it hit you just right and…”

You screamed as muffled of a scream as you could, but it rang in Hunter’s head so loud it bounced around until he felt like he was going to be sick.

“Aaand, and, when the sun set, we resaid our vows under the stars, just you and me. Always, just you and me. I’ve got you, it’s ok.”

Your eyes rolled back and all went dark.

Breathing never felt so sweet. You smiled, feeling like you could laugh and cry at the same time. The pain was gone and you felt great! Energy was surging, and life felt beautiful again. Despite the illness, you remembered everything that happened with vivid accuracy. Though your eyes were closed, your mind was very awake and registered everything in perfect memory.

Not just the pain, but the sweet moments too. Hunter taking such good care of you, his poor fear and concern, the thoughts he confessed because he thought you couldn't hear.

You felt the urge to stretch but couldn't move. Opening your eyes and looking around, the sight made your heart melt. Hunter was curled up half beside and half behind you. His body was curled in around yours, holding you as if he feared when he woke, you wouldn't be there.

Your heart was gripped by the softness of the gesture and you didn't want it to end.

You reached your hand up, running your fingers down his face and neck. The touch was enough to wake him. He stirred, then jolted with realization.

“You're awake!!!” Tears gathered in his eyes as he cupped your face with both his hands. “You're ok.” He smiled and swallowed so hard you could hear it. You embraced him, burying your face in his neck.

“I love you.”

You froze. You didn't expect him to actually confess to you while you were awake. Hunter sensed your hesitancy and started to pull away, but before he could move an inch, you were grabbing him toward yourself again.

“I love you, too. So much.”

“Can…we talk? I can't wait anymore.”

“Of course.”

Hunter turned shy. He found his hands extremely interesting as he fiddled with the blanket rim. His face turned red and he tripped over his words.

“I only said what I did because besides you….I wouldn't want to marry any other woman. Who would I even marry…if it wasn't you?”

He paused briefly before continuing.

“I always felt like you deserved way better than me…I can't offer you anything but myself and that's not much of a gift.”

“Hunter! No! You—”

He gave you a sheepish look and cut you off.

“And I'm so sorry for everything that happened, for how I hurt you. I should have gone to you sooner, I should have…”

Now it was your turn to cut him off, but instead of with words, you captured his mouth with yours in a kiss

You felt his shock, which made you smile, and soon he joined and returned your soft show of love, holding you even closer than before.

“You scared me.” Hunter said, kisses becoming needier.

“You scared me first!” You countered, meeting his veracity. “More than once!”

When you both stopped for breath, you settled back in his embrace.

“Hunter, you're all I could ever need or want. The gift of yourself is more precious than anything or anyone in the galaxy, and that's more than I deserve. All I've ever wanted was the war to end so we could have a family of our own, your brothers all be near us if they're not with us while we raise Omega and children of our own.”

Hunter's face darkened.

“I wasn't strong enough to protect you or keep this family together. I lost Omega.”

“You didn't lose her, Hunter. She made a choice. She didn't want to lose you, and neither did I. You don't control the galaxy or have some responsibility for everything that happens. It's ok to breathe, Hunt, and let go. All we can do is move onward and face the galaxy together, just like we always do.”

Hunter nodded, the shadow slowly falling from his face, replaced with something gentler.

“And that story I told before, about you in the white dress?”

“Yeah?” You blushed sheepishly, recalling with a bubbling laugh trapped inside your chest.

“What do you say we make that real?” Leaning closer, he whispered in your ear, “I want to see you all in white, for real. I want to be yours, only yours, forever. I want to have a family, with you and only you. My brothers can all live close by and we can all be together. We can raise Omega the way she deserves to be raised…and I can love you, the way you deserve to be loved.”

“Yes! Oh yes! My sergeant, I am yours and only yours, now and forever!”

Filled with new determination, you smiled even wider, gripped his hand and got out of bed.

“Come on, now, love, let's go get our kid. Time to bring our family home. Time to start healing and growing.”

"The Empire be warned, we're coming."

Dividers by @stars-n-spice @ve-ti-ver and @djarrex

#I gave Hunter's scarf a fate #We now know what happened to it #It deserved a story #Hunter's scarf is important and we recognize that here #sergeant hunter x you #hunter x you #hunter x reader #hunter #the bad batch #tbb hunter #star wars #tbb wrecker #tbb crosshair #tbb tech #tbb omega #tbb echo #star wars the bad batch #clone fic gift exchange #TBBE24

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clu-ven · 1 year

Text

Uh oh... there's only one bed! The Bad Batch Edition

word count: 2.1k - tw: mention of nightmares

After getting ambushed by some bounty hunters, what started off as a simple job quickly became a shootout. Luckily, no one got hurt but thanks to a few explosions and blaster fire from almost every direction, the Batch got split up.

Thankfully the bounty hunters retreated after the initial shootout, jumping on their speeders and fleeing. Although this makes things a bit easier, you’re still separated, with most of the Batch already regrouped. Now the last two people left to join them are you and him, the both of you side by side and listening intently to the others over an encrypted comm channel.

After some debating, the Batch concludes that you two should find somewhere to spend the night and join them back at the ship tomorrow, deeming the trek back to the Marauder too dangerous after dark.

Once you find a gloomy (but cheap) motel, you go up to the main desk and ask for a room. With the excitement of the day turning into exhaustion, neither you or him think of clarifying what kind of room you want, presuming the receptionist gives you the key to a twin room.

Expecting to see two beds in the room, your eyes go wide when you open the door to see only one…

HUNTER

Entering the room to see only one bed, Hunter sighs, his shoulder deflating. It’s been a long, strenuous day and debating over who gets the bed isn’t what he needs right now.

He automatically offers it to you, not only out of exhaustion but because he genuinely thinks you deserve it more. Hunter’s never had a comfy bed, often preferring to nap on the chairs aboard the Marauder than the actual bunks. So the way he sees it, sleeping on the floor is more familiar to him.

But of course this doesn’t suit you, insisting that he takes the bed instead. He’s too tired to do this “No you should have it” “No you” debate and so he’s quick to compromise, commenting on how the bed is big enough for the both of you.

Hunter’s extremely respectful when you’re both in the bed together. He keeps close to the edge of the bed and opts to sleep on his side so he takes up as little space as possible.

And that should be it… both of you staying on your respective sides of the bed and nodding off to sleep.

But that doesn’t sit right with Hunter.

He’s overtired but being in a new environment means his senses are on high alert. Hunter doesn’t see how he’s supposed to get any rest while his senses are completely on edge. And so he turns to the one thing his senses are familiar with… you.

You hear him turn over and within a few seconds, you feel Hunter’s arm slowly wrap around you. He does this very cautiously, keeping an eye out for any sign of discomfort from you. But when you let out a soft sigh and move towards Hunter, he takes that as a good sign.

With his arms around you, Hunter nuzzles his face into your hair. Your scent grounds him, your body acting as a safety blanket to his senses as he finally drifts off to sleep.

He keeps his arms around you during the night and when you wake in the morning, you find your head softly pressed against his chest and Hunter’s face still covered by your hair. He wouldn’t speak about this afterwards, unsure what to say or how to explain his need to have you close but if you ever find yourself in a similar situation, Hunter will definitely be cuddling you again.

TECH

When Tech sees the bed, he understands what the most logical solution is… albeit slightly flustering to think about.

Sharing the bed means the two of you will get some proper rest and considering you’ll both need to make it back to the ship tomorrow, rest is something you both desperately need.

But Tech doesn’t suggest it immediately, taking his time to look around the small room for any viable alternatives. He could sleep on the floor but considering the large amount of stains and random discolouring, Tech’s pretty sure he’ll catch some kind of sickness if he lays down on it.

Already beginning to build a barrier of pillows down the middle of the bed, he shares his thoughts with you and how he believes sharing the bed is the best option. You (obviously) don’t oppose his plan and help him with the barrier.

But is the barrier needed? Nope, in fact within an hour, you’re already dismantling the pillow barrier.

You both try to get some sleep but after the events of the day, you’re worried and ask Tech what he thinks will happen next. That turns into a conversation about if the Empire will ever truly let the Batch go and then discussing what you both hope to do in that ideal world, where the Batch is truly free. During this conversation, you both begin removing pillows from your barrier, finding it hard to have such a deep conversation with pillows blocking your view of one another.

Tech knows he should cut the conversation short and get some much needed rest, but there’s something within him that stops him from doing so. Usually it’s impossible to talk with you for this long without some kind of interruption from the others.

It’s rare to get so much time to talk to you one on one and now that he has all night with you, Tech doesn’t want to waste it. Kriff, fantasising about the future is the last thing Tech would normally do but with you? He can do it all night if you want.

It’s almost the early hours of the morning by the time you drift off to sleep, your head lazily resting against Tech’s shoulder as your eyes begin to close.

Tech doesn’t mind, shortly drifting off to sleep after you with a small smile on his face and arm wrapped protectively around you.

WRECKER

This doesn’t really phase Wrecker. The second his eyes land on the lone bed, he only has one question; do you want to be the big spoon or little spoon?

The way he sees it, there’s not much he can do to change this nor is this a big deal to him.

You’re both good friends and this wouldn’t be the first time you’ve fallen asleep together. Simply, it is what it is and Wrecker’s okay with that.

It’s been a turbulent few weeks but Wrecker sees this as a break away, a mini vacation for just the two of you.

If you haven’t eaten yet, he’ll suggest you both go out to a local shop and buy as many snacks as you can. Wrecker is basically seeing this as a sleepover and what’s a sleepover without some midnight snacks?

The room is pretty basic so while there’s no way to watch any holomovies, Wrecker instead finds entertainment in your stories about life before the war. Any story you have, whether it be about your childhood or a night in 79’s, Wrecker wants to hear it.

The both of you spend most of the night sprawled across the bed, doing little competitions like who can throw a snack highest and catch it in their mouth.

When you’re both out of energy, there’s no actual discussion about sharing the bed. It just happens naturally, your head resting on Wrecker’s large arm as sleep takes over.

When you wake up the next morning, you’re on top of Wrecker, who’s snoring softly against you. His arms are thrown loosely around you as he holds you against his chest. Yeah you’re basically his replacement for Lula the Tooka doll.

It’s hard to get up, not because of Wrecker’s grip but because he’s so damn cosy. Closing your eyes, you decide another five minutes of bliss wouldn’t hurt.

ECHO

He won’t admit it but when the door slid open to reveal only one bed, Echo got a twist of anxiety in his gut.

Suddenly he doesn’t feel tired (or at least that’s what he tells you). And besides, the bounty hunters could still be lurking around so it’s dangerous for you both to sleep. Before you can question it, Echo gives the order that you sleep and he’ll take watch.

Echo can be quite a stubborn guy when he wants to be, so no matter how many times you suggest he gets some rest or offer to take the first watch, Echo brushes it off and insists he stays up.

It doesn’t take much thought to figure out why Echo is so adamant about staying awake. Sleeping next to you would be a dream come true for him but what if his modifications hurt you while he’s asleep?

One accidental move of his arm during the night and he could hit you over the head with his scomp link. The very thought of that frightens him so if it were to actually happen, Echo is sure he wouldn’t recover.

After much back and forth, you get him to take watch while sitting on the bed, his back against the headboard as you sleep next to him. That way, at least Echo has some comfort, you under the duvet beside him while he sits rather rigidly next to you.

You fall asleep pretty quickly but you move quite a bit. Tossing and turning in your sleep, your brain can’t seem to relax, too wound up with all that’s happened recently.

Eventually, you roll a little too close to Echo, your body bumping off of him as you throw your arm around his waist. He stills, unsure whether he should move or if doing so would wake you.

Within a few seconds, you curl your body against his, your head resting on his thigh as you hold onto him, finally seeming peaceful in your sleep.

Echo has to admit, it’s pretty cute to see you relax almost the second you cuddle him, a warm feeling igniting in his chest. Suddenly, his worries begin to melt away and he wants to curse himself for overthinking the situation and not grabbing on to this opportunity while he could.

Despite being somewhat annoyed at himself, Echo’s grateful you’re next to him, nuzzling into him as you sleep. Absent-mindedly trailing his hand up and down your back, Echo rests his head against the cushy headboard, letting sleep take over.

CROSSHAIR

He rolls his eyes. That’s his first reaction. After all the shit he’s been through today and now this?! Crosshair isn’t happy.

You almost don’t catch what he says, his words coming out as a mutter as he tells you to take the bed and he’ll keep watch. Crosshair isn’t in the mood to debate this, so any suggestion you make of him also getting some rest is met with a sarcastic reply or a quip about how you’re wasting energy complaining when you should be sleeping.

While you get into the surprisingly soft bed, Crosshair sits at the bottom of the bed, sniper in hand as he cleans the weapon. It doesn't need to be cleaned but keeping himself busy helps fight off the urge to sleep.

Silence fills the room and you drift off to sleep, knowing you’ll be safe with Crosshair keeping watch.

But as soon as you fall asleep, that feeling of safety fades away and the nightmares begin. They don’t happen every night but when they do, the nightmares completely take over, causing you to mumble to yourself and flail in the bed.

When you leave out a particularly loud cry, Crosshair pauses, glancing behind his shoulder at you. He doesn't need an explanation of what this is, suffering from his own nightmares.

Settling his sniper down on the wobbly coffee table, Crosshair moves closer to you, sitting beside your sleeping figure and watching as your face becomes clouded by dread.

He’s not sure what to do, but hesitantly Crosshair places his hand on your shoulder, trying to still your erratic movements as he says “It’s alright, I’m here, you’re safe with me”.

His voice soothes you in ways you can’t even describe, his tone so calm yet confident. He’s shocked when the nightmares seem to subside, further encouraging him to continue his reassurances to you.

The more he reassures you, the more you seek out Crosshair’s warmth, your arms instinctively reaching out to him. As you try to cuddle him, Crosshair rolls his eyes before moving deeper into the bed, letting you cuddle into his side. This isn’t how he expected the night to go but now that you’re sleeping with your face in by his neck and leg on top of his, he assumes he’s stuck like this until you eventually wake up.

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thefrogdalorian · 2 months

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Nowhere Else To Run

Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Summary: Despite the fact that sharing a cabin with you and Grogu on Nevarro has given him the peaceful life he was searching for, Din cannot escape the nightmares of his past which haunt him most nights.

Although he feels unworthy of your love, the only time things make sense is when you take him in your arms and dutifully put his pieces back together. Even on nights when he feels he does not deserve it.

Word Count: 3.4k ✯ Rating: Teen ✯ Content Warnings: ✯ PTSD, nightmares, descriptions of canon-typical violence, survivor's guilt, Din feeling unworthy of love, Din's violent past, reader's hands described as being smaller than Din's. Author's Note: I created my blog six months ago, so here is a little Din drabble to celebrate. Title is taken from 'All These Things That I've Done' by The Killers (which is so Din coded) and I also listened to 2 Rocking Chairs by Jon Bellion a lot recently, so that might have inspired some of this too! Really hope you enjoyed it and here's to many more months of Din Djarin brainrot ☺︎

✯ My Masterlist ✯ Read on AO3 ✯

On the nights he startles awake, haunted by the nightmarish, twisted visions of the worst things he has done, he is certain that he does not deserve you. With all his evil deeds laid bare as his mind plays cruel tricks on him, Din Djarin remains convinced that he could live a thousand lifetimes and never be worthy of your love.

His eyelids fly open as his bare, muscular chest heaves. His golden skin is covered with a sheen of sweat. Din raises a trembling hand to wipe the moisture from his furrowed brow. Disorientated and afraid in the darkness.

His sharpened senses, honed thanks to his previous life as a bounty hunter, begin to function with all the effectiveness which once led to him being deemed the best in the parsec. He cringes as he remembers his narcissism, disgusted by how dishonourable it was to take pride in such an epithet.

First, Din feels your presence at his side. A warm mass of flesh in the dark, coldness of the night. So close that he could reach out and touch you if only he were not petrified that doing so would shatter your beauty. He yearns to draw comfort from you. Yet, he is too afraid to bring you down to his level, to defile your splendour.

Then, Din hears your soft snores. Truthfully, the sweet sounds you make are not quite snores at all. Merely the even, shallow sounds which indicate that you are peacefully resting. He relaxes slightly, relieved that his unwanted awakening has not disturbed you.

Emboldened by your continued slumber, Din sits up and gazes at you. Your stunning features are barely illuminated by the faint moonlight which streams in through an ill-fitting blind, yet even such a simple glimpse leaves him overwhelmed by your beauty.

As he quietly watches you, Din wonders what he could have done to deserve you in a past life. He certainly is not worthy of you in this one.

How could someone as wicked and treacherous as he ever be worthy of the love you envelop him in each day of your lives?

The guilt creeps in, then. It snakes its horrifying tendrils around Din's entire being and suffocates him under the weight of his regret and his pain.

He feels guilty that he has even found himself in a position to receive love like this in the first place. Especially after everything he has done, all the pain he has caused and contributed to.

Din wonders whether it is cruel to keep you around. To have intertwined his life with yours in the way he has. Surely you deserve someone better than him.

Inviting you to move in with him changed so much for Din. It deepened and strengthened his relationship with you while opening him up to experiences he had missed for much of his life. How to share space with someone else, to show affection and receive it in return.

Sharing a bunk with someone for the first time meant Din could not continue outrunning his past. It was a race that had begun decades prior on the day he lost everything on Aq Vetina, a marathon which continued well into adulthood.

The race was almost won when Din took the job that changed his life and led him to Arvala-7 in the hunt for the bounty who eventually became his son.

Yet it wasn’t until Din found you that he had finally crossed the finish line.

He still remembered the horrified look in your eyes when he awoke for the first time in your presence, thrashing and screaming as the night terrors plagued him. Terrified by the haunting visions that made his past as vivid as though it was happening right before him.

The nightmares are indiscriminate when they strike. Extensive in their scope.

In slumber, Din is confronted with the shameful jobs he took from the most reprehensible individuals in the galaxy, reminded of the ego he once possessed.

He relives how readily he hunted people for his gain, collecting bounties without a care for who he hurt. Who was he to be the law? To be judge, jury and, on occasion, executioner? Din is pained at the memory of the life of sin he led.

Din sees the job on Alzoc III in harrowing detail. The unspeakable acts of violence he had a hand in. As much as he tries to downplay his role and blame the atrocities on the disgusting band of crooks he ran with at the time, deep down, Din knows that he was a willing participant in the barbarity.

He replays the moment when, in a cruel, unforgiving tone, the gold-helmeted woman he had always idolised coldly informed him that he was a Mandalorian no more. Din is tormented time and again by the knowledge that he rendered himself an apostate in the eyes of the people who saved him; who taught him how to live. Being a Mandalorian and swearing the Creed were the only things aside from violence Din had truly ever been successful at. Walking The Way of the Mandalore was the only thing which had brought him anywhere close to achieving inner peace.

But most chillingly of all, Din is reminded of the gravest transgression of his life. An act of cruelty he knows that he will never truly forgive himself for committing, for as long as he lives.

Night after night, Din is haunted by how he had given up the child you both adore beyond comparison, who sleeps peacefully next door, to the Empire for the measly sum of a camtono of Beskar.

Was that truly all Grogu’s life was worth?

Of course, Din knows that there is no sum in the entire galaxy which would prove comparable to how Grogu has enriched his life.

Even though Din has seen the error of his ways, as he thinks back across the decades and counts his mistakes, Din Djarin knows that he is not a good man.

Yet, somehow, he has found you.

You are the greatest blessing to happen to him, matched only by his son.

He thinks of the way you still look at him with such love in your eyes, even after knowing the atrocities he committed in a past life; it almost embarrasses him to be loved in such a manner.

Somehow, Din has secured your unconditional love. A fact which proves every now and then, both suns shine on a womp rat’s tail. That even the most undeserving of rodents can occasionally have the greatest of fortunes.

Even when the terrors overcome him, you have never contemplated deserting him. No matter how dark and disgraceful the visions he divulges to you are.

When he wakes up yelling for his parents or screaming for Grogu, whom he is momentarily convinced the Empire have recaptured, you are always there to reassure him and to hold him while he sobs; to kiss his pain away with a touch of your soft lips against his tear-streaked cheeks.

Even knowing all he has done, you still look at him as though he is responsible for hanging all the stars which twinkle in the sky above your cabin on Nevarro.

Din recalls evenings spent on the porch with you outside the unassuming cabin you share by the lava flats of Nevarro. Watching the sun set beneath the horizon as he holds your smaller hand in his, while he admires how your hands fit together as they rest on his lap. He thinks about how smooth your skin is there, how it is so unlike the calloused roughness of his own.

You are softness and humanity in the face of his wickedness.

A wave of nausea overcomes him. Din is stricken by an overwhelming urge to get away from you. To put some distance between himself and you before he corrupts you with his immorality once more.

He ponders that perhaps he will find some relief on the porch in the dead of night. A solitary figure, save for his thoughts and the ghosts that haunt him. Sitting in total silence, apart from the bugs which chirp in the distance, is an appealing prospect.

So Din slowly swings his legs off the edge of the bunk, careful not to disturb you. He cringes at the way the sheets rustle. It is a minor offence compared to the many sins Din has already committed. Still, he does not want to add disturbing your peace to that list.

He sighs in the darkness as he perches on the edge of the bunk, a forceful exhale which causes his shoulders to droop when he realises you are still sleeping soundly. Din is relieved that you are unaware of his distress.

He is tantalisingly close to the door when the moment of solace is cruelly snatched away. His careful steps across the wooden floor were evidently not soft enough.

The gentle sound of your voice cutting through the darkness stops him in his tracks. Din turns to face you.

“Din?” you whisper, voice thick and husky with sleep.

The wave of guilt that washes over him is immediate. It threatens to wash him away, to drown him.

“Go back to sleep, cyare,” Din shakily responds, hoping he sounds convincing to someone so attuned to his every mannerism.

“Did you have another nightmare?” you ask, clearly unconvinced by his display.

Din Djarin may be many things, but he is not a liar.

Even under the merciful cover of darkness, when he would not have to look you in the eye as he skirted around the truth, he cannot bring himself to lie to you.

“Yes,” Din finally responds. His voice cracks as he struggles under the pressure of admitting his weakness.

The light is on before he can protest, and you rise from the bed before he can insist that there is no need. Din blinks rapidly for a few seconds as his retinas adjust to the rude intrusion into the darkness.

When his eyes finally focus, you are standing right before him, already moving to gather him into your arms.

It is strange to him, this notion that he ever needed someone to pick him up and dutifully put his shattered pieces back together. A human needing repairs is an alien concept to Din Djarin. While he has always been adept at finding and fixing faults in his impressive arsenal and starships, he was never able to identify his weaknesses and repair himself. Until he found his Clan.

It wasn't until Din saved the kid that he realised he had been running from something for his entire life. Since that terrible day, when he watched over his father's shoulder as the bodies of his neighbours hit the dusty floor. Crumpled heaps, which used to be people until moments ago, were clad in the same distinctive red robes as him. The terror he felt as his parents ran through the streets, determined to save him, their only son.

On his worst days, Din wonders if their sacrifice was worthwhile. He frets over what they would think if they could see what became of their precious boy. Whether they would be disappointed to see the life he followed. A life of such violence, such mercilessness.

Your warm presence against him, as you take him into your arms, snaps him back to the present. Din willingly melts into your embrace, relishing the human contact.

“Talk to me, Din,” you whisper as you hold him to your chest.

When you run your fingers through his hair, he loses all composure and breaks down into small sobs. Din shudders in your arms as you trail soothing fingers through his hair with one hand and rub your hand in circles on his back with the other.

“I don’t deserve you,” he eventually murmurs, voice quivering.

Din feels the way you shake your head. You gently place your hand underneath his chin and tilt his face up. Din's eyes meet your gaze and he notices how your eyes are full of concern for him. He can hardly look at you, feeling mortified at being studied like this.

Allowing himself to be vulnerable like this is still so fresh to him. To have his soul laid bare like this is uncomfortable and unnatural.

“You are not the worst things you have ever done, Din,” you whisper as you gently wipe the tears he was unable to prevent trailing a hot path down his cheek with your fingertips, “You cannot change the past. I know that you are a good man, Din, and I love you. All of you. You would not be the man that I adore without those parts of you. For better or worse, they shaped you into the man you are today.”

Din trembles under your gaze, under the weight of your words. Unsure whether he can allow himself to accept the unconditional love you offer so readily to him, time and again.

The tears stream steadily down his cheeks, as you continue to soothe his soul:

“In you, I see a caring father. A considerate man who will do anything to protect his Clan. A fearless Mandalorian warrior who has turned his fighting prowess towards a more noble endeavour. To rid the galaxy of any threats, to build a better life for your son. That is an honourable undertaking, Din.”

“I am not an honourable man,” he scoffs, instantly rebutting such a compliment. He is far too undeserving of such praise.

“You are,” you sigh, gently stroking his cheek with your thumb. There is such tenderness in your gaze and in how you touch him that he struggles to keep his emotions at bay. His bottom lip trembles at your next words, “Your life is not defined by your most evil deeds. I wish you could see yourself through my eyes. I adore you, Din. There is so much of you that is loveable.”

Din sighs. In his current mental state, he is unable to believe your words. Unable to let them sink in, to find solace in your reassurances. He looks away from you, shaking his head in a silent response.

When he finally feels able to find your gaze again, he watches as something shifts in your eyes. A tether of patience snaps.

There is a firmness in your tone the next time you address him.

“Do you know how empty our lives would be without you? How much the little boy in the other room adores you?" you plead in an exasperated tone. "He’s asleep right now, surrounded by a mountain of plushies that his father bought for him because even though you intimidate most you come into contact with thanks to your appearance, I have seen firsthand that, beneath your armour, you have a pure heart. And you are wrapped around each one of his little green talons.”

At the mention of his son, Din cannot help the way his lips curve upwards, the ghost of a smile crossing against his features. A welcome respite from the tortured look he has worn since he awoke from his nightmare.

“Grogu adores you, Din. He idolises you. You would do anything to secure his happiness,” you nod, “And mine. How lucky am I to know a love like that?”

“I do love you," Din nods, "And I’m going to spend the rest of my life taking care of both of you,” Din vows, the cracks in his voice replaced with steely determination.

Din notices the way you seem to loosen at his words, knowing that the man you know and love is gradually returning to you. His insecurities and devastation have been replaced by his determination to protect you from anything in the galaxy which could harm you.

“Then, let’s get some more rest, honey,” you whisper as you press a soft kiss onto Din’s stubbly cheek.

Din nods and laces his fingers with yours, allowing you to lead him the few steps back to the bunk you share. He slides underneath the covers, watching you as you round the bunk to join him. Once you have slid beneath the sheets, you turn the light off and plunge the room back into darkness.

Yet, the darkness which permeated every atom of Din Djarin’s being has vanished. He can only see the light now. The way your love illuminates every part of his life. How unrelenting, yet not overbearing, the way you adore him is.

Especially when you gently encourage him to roll over on his side so you can wrap your arms around his tight waist and nuzzle into the centre of his back. Your nose and mouth nestled between his broad shoulders.

Din lets out a sigh of contentment.

In your arms, there is tranquillity. The necessary remedy which soothes his anguished spirit.

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

Later, when Grogu is finally sleeping soundly after another long day of being doted on by his parents, Din finally makes it to his intended destination. Although he tried to reach the porch in the middle of the night, he would rather be here now. Especially since you are by his side, sitting next to him. It is a moment of rest after a hectic day spent entertaining a hyperactive Force-sensitive toddler with a voracious appetite.

With your presence in his life, Grogu has only continued to flourish. Din’s chest swells with pride as he thinks of his son's progress and all the milestones he has reached. Din knows that being a good father to Grogu is the most important role he will ever fulfil. He treats it with as much seriousness as such a responsibility warrants.

But Grogu is asleep.

Now, it is just Din and you. He smiles as he looks at your hands together, and appreciates how your fingers are intertwined. Din relishes the comfort he draws from your physical presence. He feels soothed by the knowledge that he has hidden nothing from you, that you can still love him regardless of his past transgressions.

Din looks out across the landscape towards the rolling volcanic hills of Nevarro, dusted a pale pink and orange colour in the fading light of dusk. He thinks about how he will grow old with you here in this little cabin. If fate grants him such an honour.

He cannot help but smile as he thinks about how you will sit out here on this very porch, holding hands with each other. When his patchy facial hair is flecked with grey and even when it is entirely white. When the wrinkles on his face are as lined and drawn as the crevices which scar the surface of Nevarro. Perhaps Grogu will be old enough to run around by then. Maybe he will have gained the gift of speech.

Regardless, even many rotations from now, Din knows with absolute certainty that he will still think you are the most beautiful sight in the galaxy. Even after years of adoring each other, he will still wonder how he was ever so lucky to be worthy of your love.

Din is excited to spend the rest of his life proving to you that he is the good man you repeatedly inform him you still see, even amongst all his flaws. It is a heavy task, yet one he relishes. Love had terrified him for so much of his life. When he discovered its beauty, he was determined to make up for lost time.

It is a heavy thought that he may never exhaust his capacity and reach the depths of all the love he has realised he possesses.

For now, though, Din turns his head to look at you, a soft smile lighting up his face as the sunset illuminates his features. The colour has returned to his cheeks. You return the gesture, gently sweeping your thumb across the back of his hand.

In the fading light, your face glows golden, only accentuating your beauty. Din wonders again how he was ever so lucky to know a love like this.

Except now, he does not doubt that he deserves it.

Now, Din Djarin allows his chest to be flooded with the warmth he feels when he embraces your love.

He accepts it, even after all the things that he’s done.

#din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fluff #din djarin angst #pedro pascal characters #my fics #cannot believe it has already been 6 months where does time go eh!

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manachiichan · 2 months

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To see the world that you are so proud of...

Synopsis: Growing up obediently following your empress' shadow, your horizon broaden the moment you met a pirate doning a strawhat who somehow ended up on your island.

Pairing: Monkey D. Luffy x Kuja!Reader, Platonic!Boa Hancock X Fem!Reader

Spoilers from the Amazon Lily and Marineford arcs. Reader is a pure sunshine who is both kind and naive. This is mostly focused on yours and Hancock's relationship.

|| One Piece Masterlist ||

|| Part 1 || Part 2 ||

"Rejoice.. From this day and so on, you will directly serve me alone...."

Growing up, all you ever did was listen and obey those who ranks stronger than you. And that person was no other than Boa Hancock, the Empress of your island.

When your mother died unexpectedly, she took you under her watchful eyes. Being only a child at the time, you were unaware of how dangerous your surroundings were. Surrounded by the jungle and waters filled with sea kings, you will never survive.

The women were all like walking on eggshells around you. Your mother was a fearsome warrior that boarded the Kuja Pirates' ship. She was well respected by her peers and because of that, the rest treated you like a delicated flower that deserved to be sheltered.

You were a child without a maternal protection and guidance.

But after being graced by her benelovence, you grew to adore the snake princess and bow to serve her with everything you have. Hancock treated you like how she would treat anyone below her, yet in your child like mind, she was the only one who didn't see you as fragile as glass.

And to repay that, you went and learned the ways of the women in the island.

"Snake Princess, please allow me to serve your every needs! I won't hesistate to do all of them!"

"Snake Princess, I brought you your tea. Just like how you like it..."

"Please leave quietly. The Snake Princess is currently occupied and cannot see an audience."

"My empress, you seems to be slightly fatigued, should I draw a herb bath to soothe your mind and cleanse your body?"

"I'll be on guard by the door if you ever request anything, Snake Princess. I'll be happy to aid you with all of my capabilities...."

You learned and mastered observation haki at a young age as you often went and learned everything that should and shouldn't do around the Pirate Empress. After all, you felt like you owe your life to her.

But that's also when you finally saw through the mask she often wore. She has a deep fear somewhere in her heart that she tried so hard to hide, the same fear that her sisters share with her.

You kept silent about it as you thought it wasn't your place to ask. But after that, you began to see her in a different light.

Boa Hancock is much more valiantly elegant than what you previously thought. And you admire her strong demeanor in hopes that one day, you'll be like her too..

As a Kuja warrior, you strived and hone your skills in hopes of pleasing your Empress even more. You worked harder to be a better version of yourself. You became the best hunter of your tribe while fully adapting to your own snake weapon.

Hancock rarely talk to you, however, she kept you often at her side, doing her bidding.

"What is with that smile on your face?"

"I'm happy, Snake Princess. To be able to prove my worth by serving you, it's the greatest honor..."

Most women would cower under her cold gaze, but you on the other hand, was brave enough to stare back with much admiration, carrying and obeying with a gentle smile on your face. Pure genuine, you didn't fawn over her like how the rest did, nor threw yourself under her feet as she walk pass by.

Everything you do was all voluntary that she didn't even have to use her charms to force you to obey.

Eventually, your obedience lead to Hancock trusting you completely. Becoming her right hand woman, whom she could trust Amazon Lily with. She know that you will never betray her with how much dedicated you are on serving her.

You were too kind. Whenever she looks out on the window of the castle, she would often see you helping out your fellow women with a huge smile on your face. Every requests thrown at your direction, you immediately agreed on, as if rejection is not on your vocabulary.

She knew by then, that she chosen the right person to trust on.

The first time you actually met a man, was when Hancock commanded you to stay back on the island as she sails away with her sisters and the elite warriors of the tribe.

"Snake Princess, why do I have stay here? I am confident in my abilities that I won't be considered as a hinder.."

You pleaded, carefully observing her reactions if ever you annoyed her with your words. To be near Hancock, means that you have to be careful not to anger her to avoid loosing her favor on you.

"You are not ready to sail on the Perfume Yuda yet. So use that strength on keeping this island safe until I return..."

Being often near the snake princess, gave you privilage to lead your fellow warriors whenever she and her sisters are not around. They listen to your instructions carefully and proceed to do their respective chores dedicatedly.

As you were given the task of protecting the island by Hancock herself, you took the initiative of scouting the jungle along side three other woman named Marguerite, Sweet Pea and Aphelandra.

"While we're here, should we perhaps hunt a beast for today's lunch?"

You asked the trio, hoping to bring a good feast for the warriors who scouted the other areas of the island, but before anyone could respond, you all notice smoke coming from the far side of the jungle. Wordlessly, you gave the women a commanding look before running off to the source with them following behind.

And that's how you met the strange man now called Luffy.

You found him beatened and unconcious with mushroom growing on his body. Not knowing his identity before hand, your pity for the injured had allowed him to enter the village.

Allowing Belladona and the rest of the women to tend his wounds, you and Marguerite provided on sewing new clothes identical to his previous tattered ones.

Marguerite embroidered floral patterns on the vest and you sewed a new pair of clean shorts.

Until the elder, Nyon revealed his identity of being a man.

"So this is what a man look like....?"

Unlike the rest of the women who all got defensive on his sudden outburst, you on the other hand could only continue to stare with curiosity.

Because you could clearly see his intentions. He was annoyed with how the rest wanted to pull his balls of gold, how feminine his clothes were and how tense he was when weapons pointed at his direction.

Yet you can see the desperation on his eyes. His desperation to leave the island, and return to his friends, atleast from what you heard him shout.

"Wait, stop...!"

You told the women to cease all actions but it was then, their arrows rained towards his cell, forcing himself to break out.

"He is not a threat!"

"(Name) all men who enters this island must be eliminated. That is the rules given by our ancestors that is upholded for centuries!"

Kikyo scolded you. Reminding you of where your loyalty lies. If your Empress ever finds out that a man entered the island under your supervision, you knew that you'll be the one paying for the consequences.

You feared to see the disappointment, Hancock would send you once she finds out. Hate to have suddenly betrayed her trust of getting fooled by a man whom you allowed to enter in the island. And you hate to disappoint her.

But the women are willing to help you out by pretending that this had never happened. Once you capture the man and kill him, this will all be a forgotten event. Boa Hancock will never know that a man soiled her land with his filt....right?

So with a conflicted thought, you went with the rest to pursue the strawhat wearing man.

Somehow, you found yourself being held hostaged by the same man. At first, you and the other Kuja warriors were all chasing after him through out the village, when all of sudden, he turned around to face you.

Looking through the crowd of women, his eyes landed on to your guarded ones, stretching his arm, he immediately wrapped them around you before running off.

He kidnapped you, atleast that what you thought as he made his way out to the village with you in his arms.

"I need that paper back..."

He was after the paper you found on his tattered clothes. You stared at him warily as your snake slithered from your shoulders to your arm, forming into your weapon. You hoped that you wouldn't be using it against him but you can't avoid taking that risk.

You stared at his impatient form, silently observing his every move. You can tell that he has no intentions of fighting you either.

"You mean this....? What does it do...?"

Curiosity over took your judgement as you pulled out the paper to his field of vision. Seeing the absolute relief on his face made you lower your guard a little. What was the importance of a small piece of paper with a name written on it?

"My friends and I got separated, I need this paper to see them again."

"Who...are you anyways...?"

"I'm Monkey D. Luffy. I'm a pirate..!"

He spoke with a boyish grin on his face that you couldn't help but reprocate. He kept his distance seeing how you weren't comfortable being near a man....yet. He spoke fondly of his crew.

Like how you often spoke about the Snake Princess.

"The Snake Princess rules this island, she's wary of outsiders like you, but once you see through the mask she often wore, you can see how caring she's really is...!"

"I see! You really like the boss of this place, huh..? She must be really nice then."

You didn't realized that you were talking rather eagerly like you knew him for years already until you hear his laughter. Feeling slightly embarrased that you lost your composure, you immediately went to defend yourself.

"D-don't get ahead of yourself, man! Just because I'm talking to you, doesn't mean I'll let you do what you want here... No men are allowed on this island!"

You were already getting attached to him, he doesn't seem to be a threat at all. You thought as you saved him from drowning after his attempt to make a raft.

And before you could even think about helping him escape, the defense warrior group finally found the two of you in which he decided to flee.

By the time, you caught up to him, you knew it was already too late. Hancock was already aware of his presence and had ordered for his capture after he crashed on her chambers when she was bathing.

"Where were you, (Name)?"

You couldn't face her, you could only stand behind her with her sister Marigold on your front.

"Forgive me, Snake Princess... I was out there trying to capture that man..."

Boa Hancock is a rather observative woman. She observes people who falls under her rules. She knows her worth and what she is capable of and use it for her advantage.

Imagine to her slight surprise, you weren't there to greet her return at the end of the red carpet. That was her first suspicion, you never failed to show up first whenever she returns to the Island after weeks on sea.

She got even more suspicious when every woman she came across to lied when she asked of your wherebouts. Their only replied was, you had to hunt down a troublesome monkey that involves the rest of the island's defense troupe.

So when this man appeared, she knew she has to demonstrate a taste of her power to all of the women on the island. You included. She is the Empress, and it is her duty to protect the women under her care. She ought to show an example of how truly vile men are.

You who were oblivious of how truly cruel the world is. Too kind and obedient for her liking yet she couldn't find the heart to tell you off. She wasn't blind to see the adoration on your face whenever she is nearby. Nor she was oblivious to how genuine your actions were. She can see the unwavering loyalty you shown for her.

However she wasn't expecting you to grow attached to Luffy.

She noticed how your behavior shifted to tense and discomfort seeing him fight in that arena.

"What is it, (Name)?"

"Nothing, my empress..."

She could applaud you keeping your emotions in check. However, she found herself staring at you in disbelief when your cool finally broke when Marguerite, Sweet Pea and Aphelandra step in, attempt to save Luffy.

"My apologies, but I was the one who brought him to the village. If anyone deserves to be punished, it should be me. Those three merely followed my orders."

"You know what happens to those who defy me, (Name). Why are you defending the guilty?"

Taking up the courage, you managed to look her directly in the eyes. Those cold and dull hues that holds deeper emotions within. With a deep breath, you gave her your usual smiles.

Your compassionate smile of purity.

"I was the one who allowed permission for him to enter the village, my empress. So I should be the one held accountable. Marguerite, Sweet Pea and Aphelandra did nothing wrong, so please allow me to take their punishment alone.

You pleaded them to be spared. Seeing how you are willing to take the risks of saving the girls including Luffy slightly wavered her resolved.

"....You disappointed me, (Name).."

But she is still the Empress, and she has to show her authority over the island. Knowing full well that her powers could not affect you in any way, she asked a few warriors to take you away. You who looked back at her with a dejected face.

The man wearing a strawhat look angry on your behalf. He fought bravely against her sisters, demanding to set you free as you were innocent from all of this.

"She did nothing wrong! She was only trying to save me!"

Hancock kept her composure as she watched the battle raged on. What was so special about this man that you were willingly to defend him.

You were just too kind that it slightly annoyed her. You should only reserve it to her and her people alone. Your kindness shouldn't be shown to filthy men who will only take advantage of you.

This was the first defiance you've ever done. Hancock gritted her teeth as memories flashed between her eyes, ransacking every single one, yet she didn't remember you showing any disobedience like this before.

Just when she was starting to treasure you.

Only when the battle was over, she finally understood. Luffy was kind in his own way. Is that why you defended him? Because you were aware that he was not like those men who once trespassed the island?

Luffy seems to know the secret she was so desperate of hiding, so does that means that you already know? What do you see in her now?

Only when she was finally alone in her room, was she began breaking down, silent tears fell down as she didn't want her sisters to hear. Having you by her side for years as her closest aide made her conflicted. She only kept you nearby was because of pity.

You loosing your mother at such a young age. Your mother who was apart of her crew, died at sea because of her warrior pride to protect the rest. It was by guilt, your mother's death at her ship is what made her take you under her wing.

She watched you grow up into a formidable warrior serving her with nothing but pure genuine adoration. It was nothing like the lust thrown to her way by both genders whenever she was present.

It was a gaze of a child with innocent admiration. You look up to her as a person and not just someone with otherworldy beauty.

Which is why she didn't let you join her crew. Giving excuses that you weren't strong enough to travel the seas on her ship. She didn't want you to see how vicious and filthy this world truly is. Nor for people to take advantage of your kindness.

What will happen if you knew the truth? It was her selfishness that killed your mother. Her selfish orders is what caused your mother to loose her life. Will you still have the same look on your face if you ever find out her slave mark? Or are you already aware of it?

Knowing you for years, no. You would never look at her differently even after she told you her secret. But the truth? It was because of her that you grew up without your mother's tender love and care.

But even so, she gave in with her fears. Through out the years, even she tried hard to push you away with her cold atittude, you still managed to find a place in her heart.

You were patient with her. Serving her with a bright smile that herself couldn't help but grew fond of. You tolerate her bratty attitude and beauty even when she knew that didn't have any affect on you. Only you were the one who can see through her lies and stayed.

But Hancock is a selfish woman, she was drawn to your warmth that she decided to keep you close, Because she was selfish, she only wants to keep your kindness to herself.

Because being around you, she can be a regular person that people never fawn on. Not like a luxurious item that people wanted to have, but a person who has her own feelings and wants.

All she hope is that you would forgive her like how you always do.

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