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mandalorewhore · 3 years

Text

Hunter (formerly Hunter and Prey)

Cis-Female Reader Insert/ Din Djarin

Gif by @themandaloriandaily

Thank u to @cptnbvcks, @whenimaunicorn, and of course @no-droids for the inspiration and your superior writing skills, whenever i was stuck on a portion i would reread all of u guy’s works and feel inspired again

Rating: Explicit Content Warnings: Exhibitionism, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Breath Play, Deep Throating, Masturbation, Pining, Depictions Of Violence, Canon-Typical Violence Words: 11k AO3 LINK

Summary: AU where Din Djarin stays with the mercenary group owned by Ranzar Malk. Takes place a few years before Din is contracted for Grogu's bounty. You're a merc trying to make a name for yourself in the group when circumstances end up having you run away with Din. You become his hunting partner in order to support yourself but you cant help falling in love with him, even as trained killers chase you across the galaxy.

FULL FIC:

As a mercenary, you wouldn’t consider yourself an overly sensitive person.

Maker knows you wouldn’t have lasted a week in the job if you couldn’t handle your emotions. Although you don’t consider yourself entirely void of empathy, having a sense of detachment is useful when your waking hours are spent committing crimes throughout the galaxy.

So why the fuck are you so jealous right now?

The obscene moans and harsh slapping that echoes throughout the hangar shouldn’t inspire a larger reaction than disgust as you dutifully continue to repair the blaster marks on one of the rogue-class starfighters. Luckily, it seems that most of your immediate associates have ran off into the deeper areas of the bay to toll your last mission.

Excluding three members, you guess.

Thank the fucking Maker Migs isn’t here You think bitterly, willing the sparks to fly higher and machine rumble louder as you carefully manipulate your buffing laser on the metal surface. His snarky attitude certainly wouldn’t lessen your misery as you try to drown out the sounds of sex. Raunchy words hiss, bouncing off the metal walls, before finding your feet and slithering up your limbs with a foulness that chokes you. Controlling the hot spinning laser seems to stoke your inner seething more than it distracts you.

“Mando! Stars, keep-fuck- keep doing that,” you hear Xi’an echoing. Fucking Xi’an. She knows what she’s doing to you. The cruel Twi’lek is far too observant to not know that she is practically comm-station broadcasting her sexual exploits to the entire crew, and with that sheer volume, might as well the entire galaxy. You truly wouldn’t care about her sex life if it wasn’t blatantly obvious that Xi’an was doing this to mock you. You know this is meant for your ears only, a repeat of every other time you’ve found yourself stuck with this chore.

Even if she wasn’t directly rubbing the fact that she was fucking the Mandalorian in your face, you don’t doubt that she would find a way to taunt your nonexistent sex life just for the fun of it. Another salacious moan echoes in the bay causing you to cringe and slightly jerk the repair tool in frustration.

Fuck, why did it have to be Mando? Aren’t there enough people on this kriffing space station to warm her bed? And how is he being so quiet right now? After a second you remember that’s a stupid question, considering he is probably the quietest person you’ve ever met.

His reservation serves to intimidate your targets, all the while unintentionally stoking that warmth in your belly when you are near him. His all-encompassing presence when he enters a room strikes fear in the hearts of the opposition, meanwhile, you are secretly pressing your thighs together in desire, enjoying the spectacle?.

You’ve found yourself reveling in the few jobs where Ran’s strategy has you in a decoy-role, weaponizing your feminine charm to lull your target into a false sense of power. The muscle composing of Burg and Mando make quick work of those men once they're thoroughly wrapped up in your wiles. Despite being placed together for jobs on several occasions you’ve never actually had a real conversation with him.

You’re too scared to talk to him, a near-silent man covered head to toe in Beskar, but you make money killing people and robbing gangs every week. It would be funnier if that purple freak wasn’t so vile. You don’t even know how to casually approach him.. Nice job killing those guys while I manipulated them into trying to fuck me! I’m pretty good with a gun, too. Maker, it’s so ridiculous that you don’t even bother with trying to figure it out. Other fantasies are easier to picture, such as the thought of him strolling across the room to slot himself in-between your spread legs, directing that intensity into your willing, aching body.

This infuriating crush is why you suppose that your envy wouldn’t be as biting if you caught some sort of noise from the man during these displays of exhibitionism. It would give you something to repeat in your mind while you stow away in the late hours of the night seeking your own release. You guess the inability to hear him is proof of how far Xi’an is pushing her volume. It’s all just to piss you off.

“Uhg, how miserable..” You mutter to yourself, allowing a little moment of self-indulgent angst. Typically, you wouldn’t allow yourself to wallow like a petulant teen seeing as you’re a literal fucking criminal.

I’m supposed to be a hardass, dammit you think, spirits low as repairs wrap up far too swiftly. You swear you’ll buff right through every layer in the ship if you keep procrastinating on finishing your job and wandering into the tucked away fresher for a shower. Wandering past….them.

Wherever they are choosing to fuck can’t be that far considering the slap of skin on skin is already fucking loud enough. The sounds seem to be emanating from a vent not too high up the wall, you deduce it connects to one of the bunk rooms not too far from the landing pad you’re working next to. It really is fucking loud with all these metal surfaces to echo off of. Making your way to your small bunk might cause you to go deaf and if the last thing you ever hear is Xi’an wailing as she rubs in the fact that you aren’t fucking Mando, well, you might just take this spinning laser to your head. Unfortunately, at this point, the exterior of the gunship couldn’t possibly get more pristine.

Sighing in defeat, you push up from your crouching position on the metal floor and start to assemble your tools for clean-up while the sounds of Twi’lek pleasure predictably pick up in volume.

“Fuck, fuck-Ah I’m close, I-I’m going to-“ A literal howl pierces the air as your gut twists with discomfort. Fuck, this is so awkward... and like, weird? Does he consent to this? Does he like that we can hear it? Maker.. Pushing that thought out of your mind you start to jog to your goal of the darkened hall that leads to the station fresher, still so wrapped up in jealousy that you almost miss the rough modulated growl accompanying the scream.

O-oh.

Oh shit. Was that Mando….Moaning?

The swirling jealousy is suddenly overtaken by a- stars- painful heat, so debilitating that you stumble and almost double over with an intensity that shoots through your groin. Okay well, now you feel like an actual pervert. This display of eroticism was engineered by Xi’an to make you uncomfortable, not so painfully turned on that it’s dizzying. You vaguely register a growing slickness between your legs as you hurry along the cold hallway, desperate to drench yourself in icy water and pretend to forget the sound of Mando moaning.

Shit, Maker, was he cumming? Was that what he sounds like when-- no stopstopnope. Don’t think about that. Your inner monologue is running amuck as you desperately try to block it out. This feels kinda gross, as if you’re a greasy peeping tom spying on Mando’s private endeavors even though this whole situation was shoved in your face to make you ache in countless, longing ways.

That deep growl repeats in your mind as you hum nonsensically under your breath, tapping your skull as if you can knock the sound out of your consciousness despite being well aware that you will go to your fucking grave with every detail. The top of your inner thighs is so embarrassingly slick that you have to resist waddling along the corridor to the showers. Just as you are about to round the first corner, one of the side bunker doors slides halfway opens with a whoosh. The smirking Twi’lek saunters out like the loth-cat who got the cream.

I suppose she did get the cream... Your split-second of sour mirth is further spoiled as Xi’an slides the rest of the door open revealing the gleam of silver beskar and red steel as the ever still Mandalorian adjusting his…thigh armor. You spy a large vent at the junction between wall and ceiling, confirming your earlier suspicions that she chose this location on purpose. Quickly glancing between Mando and Xi’an, your face uncontrollably floods with fire when her giggles pierce the air. You register his helmet tilting toward you right as Xi’an’s tongue slowly extends to liiiick her fingers, any curiosity at his gesture burning away in revulsion.

What does she get out of making everyone uncomfortable? You think to yourself, wanting to squirm away from the obscenity but resolving to hold your ground.

“Xi’an,” You greet the two shortly, hands linked behind your back. “Mando.” He nods.

“Sorry,” Xi’an offers in a voice devoid of guilt. “Were we being too loud? I would never want to distract you from your… projects.” Her taunting smile curls so widely that it is almost disturbing. “What would the team do without our junior mechanic!”

Her cackle rings through the suddenly freezing hall as you spin on your heel and try to not look like you’re fleeing. Red is tinting the edges of your vision from her insult while tears threaten to flood your eyes out of embarrassment.

You need to get to that shower quickly.

----------------

As the tepid shower rains down on your flushed body, you childishly wonder if you should run away. Or rather, if you could run away considering you technically don’t own any of the ships currently residing in the hangar bay. Although you technically have free reign to pilot most of the spaceships available, that freedom entirely applies to transportation between merc assignments . The thought of running away from your current acquaintances on a stolen ship is not appealing. In fact, the only crew member owning a personal vessel happens to be Mando, his Razer Crest gunship was often subject to your mechanic skills.

Mando, who always offered a genuine “Thank you.” after you’d spend hours touching up the vessel’s damage procured from the rare missions he lent its flight to. Mando, the person who you are presently trying to not think about while naked and still trembling with emotion.

Your sillier fantasies would sometimes involve stealing away in his gunship, hand pressed over his chest and leg thrown across his lower body like a romance novel while he skillfully pilots the ship away. Kriff, you felt like a soft girl whenever you run this scenario through your mind, so cliché and campy that you cringe at yourself. Thus, this particular dive into your consciousness was reserved for special moments such as lying in bed after a strenuous job, or after long days spent working through that junkyard of hangar bay trying to strong-arm your way into earning worth in the company. Private moments where you are finally comfortable letting your guard down to drift aimlessly throughout maladaptive daydreams.

Not so soft fantasies exist in your mind as well. Once again that modulated groan springs to the forefront of your mind causing your clit to throb softly. The conflicting feelings of embarrassment, rage, and painful arousal serves to create an energizing cocktail that goes straight to your pussy.

‘Fuck it,” You whisper breathily to yourself, “Nows as good a time as ever..” your fingers are trailing down your stomach as you say the words out loud. You adjust the water to be slightly warmer and sigh as the comfortable heat compliments your tickling fingers. If only you could replace your hands with the significantly larger leather-clad ones of a certain bounty hunter. The thought spikes your arousal as you lightly brush against your mound, choosing to tease yourself as images flash through your mind. The armor-clad Mandalorian gripping the back of your neck to you press facedown on the floor of his ship and take his cock. Or your legs spread wide across his hips, crushing your pussy on his groin while he’s seated in the pilot seat of his ship.

Your fingers dip slightly into your slick hole then drag up to your clit causing you to bite your free palm and hold back a moan. Eyelids heavy, you give in to the fantasies and begin to earnestly rub at your clit.

“Mmf Maker, f-fuck..”, you whine into your hand at the thought of him breaking your pussy open. You just know he fucks hard -- it’s a given that the crazy Twi’lek would be one for rougher sexual affairs. Someone who spends nearly every moment of life feeling nothing but the weight of fabric and beskar on their skin must be so fucking touch starved. You bet the opportunities he’s had to feel a tight cunt wrapped around his length would completely overwhelm his restraint. Muffled moans begin to fill the fresher as your fingers speed up between your legs, head hanging forward into the metal wall and water dripping off your brows.

Your eyes flutter shut as you pull your hand from your lips to tug at your hardened nipple, other hand still between your legs, imagining a dark visor being trained on your soaking wet, writhing body. The image sends a shooting pleasure up your spine as you spin around and press your back to the wall. Imagining his dark form watching you from the other side of the gathering steam, you open your thighs and spread your labia apart, sighing at the wet sound it makes. “Like what you see, hunter..?” you whisper into the empty room wishing he would find you in this shower.

Removing your fingers from your nipple you reach down to your crotch and greedily fill yourself with two fingers, pumping in and out as your other hand works at your swollen clit. The volume of your now unmuffled pleasure is likely overheard by anyone on this section of the station, but you can't find it in yourself to give a shit. If Xi’an can screech out her orgasms at any given opportunity to fuck with you then let them hear.

Let him hear.

Your imagination runs rampant at the notion that he could hunt down your gasps and take care of you himself, causing you to gasp louder. S-shit people can hear you, you just won't say his name out loud, it's fine, it's f-fine- The thought of him discovering you here is so hot that it's blinding, and suddenly your orgasm is rushing up to crush you entirely.

Your lower half is locked tight then suddenly your knees buckle and you’re cumming hard. Your choked gasps cutting through the steamy shower like blaster fire as you peak higher, uncontrollably calling out for the Mandalorian while white-hot pleasure wrings you dry. Let him hear you crying for him as you gush around your fingers, convulsing in bliss.

In the shuddering aftershocks, you don’t hear the uncharacteristically loud padding of leather boots retreating away from the fresher door.

------------------------------------------

You’re good at your job. You wouldn’t be doing it if you truly couldn’t handle the ordeal of being a mercenary. The whole point of the job is to take care of the dirty work, so those far disconnected wouldn’t have to dwell on their choices too hard. You’re used to not asking questions, motivated by credits and reputation alone. But in moments like these, a job going this awry… well, you just feel like pure shit. This hit was way too easy and far too filthy even for your career mostly consisting of professional filth. It was so glaringly obvious that even if your associate’s numbers were sliced in half, you would still sweep the ground with your winnings.

And what meager earnings they are.

The crew’s assignment this round was to hit a casino shipment just outside the outer rim planet of Cantonica. Due to the Razer Crest’s ability to fly under the radar of both Imperial and New republic records, Ran rudely allotted that Mando should allow his ship’s use for crew transport. You’re surprised he agreed at all, but perhaps the prospect of gain motivated him. His motivations are rarely clear to you. You’re guessing the price of a wealthy city’s supply sounded frankly too tempting for everyone involved; Ran was practically salivating over the drawing board for this particular errand. One would imagine a hull stacked to the top with credits and the finest luxuries for Canto Blight’s flashy tourists. It is Catonica’s main attraction after all.

But once the team’s resident crime droid, Zero, breached the cargo ship's record, the whole team is informed that the cargo-freighter ship only contains “organics”.

Slaves.

In the end, Migs remarked that there may still be something of worth to obtain from this job, and thus the plan morphed into an robbery on the surface once the cargo landed at its isolated dock. You reluctantly agreed to continue while Mando shortly nodded, both of you last to assent on this change in direction.

----------------

Some hours later you’re crouching in a derelict warehouse while the lessening blaster fire showers spark like fireworks across your corneas. The fighting between your crew and the dockyard guards has almost died down at this point and you take the moment to catch your breath behind a large stack of cargo boxes.

“Holy stars,” you gasp out, head falling between your knees as a wave of guilt consumes you momentarily. This job fucking blows. It’s so much easier robbing Imps and gangs because they are inherently bad fucking people. Robbing a group of slaves is the lowest point you think you have ever hit in your life. This is so wrong, this is so so wrong, they don’t even have ownership of their own lives and here your crew of fucking mercenaries swoops in with a vengeance over being cheated out of something that we didn’t own in the first place.

The last straw was when you witnessed a young bedraggled woman fearfully tossing the Twi’lek sibling, Qin, a small wooden necklace, the last possession from her life before slavery. You ended up turning tail and running deeper into the dock while Qin needlessly hissed at her just to enjoy her terror. You’re sure he’ll just toss the thing after the job is over.

“I never would’ve agreed to this…” You breathe out shakily to the empty air, hollowness swallowing your ability to compartmentalize your humanity from the nature of this work. You are still fighting the impulse to give in to that deep pit of sorrow when a large shadow makes you start and grip your blaster before relaxing in recognition at the chrome gleam.

“Oh, hey, Mando,” Smiling tightly in his presence as he approaches silently, his helmet tilted down at your crouched form. His gaze makes you straighten up quickly, realizing that you probably shouldn’t look so stricken in front of your crime associate. Gotta look tough, can’t let people think you’re too soft for this work. Man, didn’t he help start the company? That thought motivates you further to stand up and face him head-on.

“Not what we expected huh? Certainly no Canto luxury here..” you quietly murmur to his cheek groove.

If you looked directly where his eyes might be he would likely catch the sparkle of moisture threatening to pool at your bottom lashes.

“No,” he breathes shortly through the modulator. “Not this.” Something in his voice inspires the bravery to glance at his T-shaped visor. Compared to his usual tone of speech he almost sounds …stricken right now. Distraught by this display of debauchery your crewmates have shown the slaves and few people manning the dock. It's not noticeable unless you’ve been around him enough to read him on some level but deep down you know he feels the same way. You try to recall him taking part in the violent takeover and realize he was barely present for the ordeal. Aside from the initial violence that broke out during landing he hardly did anything and was noticeably absent once the slaves were targeted. In the back of your mind, you pray that he won't be reprimanded for the lack of effort. The thought is ridiculous but you’re scared anyway.

Stars, this is all too much, your head is swirling with grief and stress as your heart rate picks up and suddenly you are so desperate for humanity, for empathy that you lose your filter and-

“Couldn’t stomach it either?” You blurt out to him, desperately hoping he understands and will not judge your deep sorrow for the enslaved people affected by this brutal takedown. Your mind catches up in panic half a second later when Mando doesn’t immediately respond. Did you just seek sensitivity from the Mandalorian? Fuck. Wait. That sounded like an insult too. Fuck um-

“Ah, um I-I mean. I just mean I don’t remember you firing on anyone helpless and I um- I didn’t either, I didn’t fire my blaster at all to be honest I-Fuck- I hid. They’re just slaves not Imps, Mando. The guards were taken out in seconds and-” You hiccup and stutter as tears gather at the edges of your eyes and begin to fall. You feel so overwhelmed with anxiety and guilt that all of a sudden you forgot about his open show of emotion.

Pull it together, don't do this in front of the Mandalorian. He is the very picture of a stoic, hardened mercenary and now you’re kriffing crying in front of him? It briefly registers that this is the first time you’ve ever spoken one on one with him, the both of you were almost always alone or with members of Ran’s party during time off. You internally curse your existence for thinking you could tearfully word vomit in front of a fucking bounty hunter and get comforted by him. Your knowledge of Mandalorians is limited, despite knowing one, yet you think the point of his whole creed about giving up your identity and giving yourself to war. Why the fuck did you cry in front of a damn Manodlorian? You’re just starting to unfreeze from your panic-stricken muscles to dab at your cheeks when a gloved hand swiftly brushes just below your eye to catch a tear.

‘This wouldn’t have happened if that Droid could do his job,” You glance up at him in shock at his biting tone juxtaposed with the gentle gesture, but he’s already turning away, voice rotating with his visor. “The worst is over now that the shooting stopped. Let’s round up the others.”

He pauses with his back turned and you take that moment to compose yourself. You’ve only shed a few tears so your eyes can’t be that red.

“O-okay.. .” You reply, trying to inject your usual backbone into the tone of your response before moving to follow him around the piled boxes and regroup. Staring into your warped reflection in the back of his helmet you try to find the words to thank him but they get lost in the ghosts of today.

Your mind is still swirling but the clouds of despair have mostly cleared away. You know you don’t have time to dwell on your short interaction yet your mind is fully absorbed in his every move, both present and past. Coming from anyone else his reaction would seem shitty and dismissive but coming from Mando... well, you're honestly shocked. Those two sentences were fairly long for someone usually so silent. And what about his reaction to the way this job has gone? Him brushing away your tears?

You are gazing down at your feet deep in thought when you suddenly bonk into the back of Mandos broad back, wacking your forehead on the base of his helmet.

“Oww.” You groan lightly, rubbing your forehead and stepping to the right of his body, “Why’d you stop so sudde-'' It is then when you notice the muffled whimpering coming from the clearing in front of the both of you. A crimson pool of blood laps at the Mandalorian’s boots, its kiss staining the leather a deep black.

Now you are truly sickened, bile rising in your throat as a ragged gasp leaves your mouth.

“Why…? How can you..”

“Xi’an!”

Your choked whisper leaves your lips at the same moment the Mandalorian fucking barks the Twi’leks name.

A crumpled form adjacent to her body is the source of the whimpering and bloodshed, their contorted limbs looking less than human as muscles strain against metal binders. Xi’an’s triangular blades are dripping in her grip as she spins on her toes like a dancer and flounces childishly in the direction of your frozen form. Tearing your gaze away from the shell of a human you meet her eyes with open hostility. She stops several yards away from you.

‘Aha! So good to see you two. Isn’t this job sooo disappointing?” She calls out to the two of you casually. When no one responds her body deflates as she twists her knee inward and clutches one arm peevishly. Performative. “What? No hello? I could’ve died today!” She cackles at the notion.

Mando is a statue at your side. You can feel the rage radiate in waves off his body like a heater and you wonder what's going to happen if Xi’an pushes this further. Your heightened stress from moments before is vibrating throughout your nervous system, compelling you to step forward and speak up.

“Xi’an… this-this is completely unnecessary. The only thing required to complete our hit was taking out guards! What the fuc- and they were clearly incapacitated by you before you decided to take your blade to their skin!” Okay, that came out a little shakier than intended, but it feels like a disservice to hide your revulsion for her actions with the victim lying right there. “You could’ve just hit em’ in the skull with a blaster shot if you needed them out of your way!”

“Guards? Oh, I already took them out. This-” Xi’an punctuates the word a kick into the person’s stomach causing them to groan weakly, “Well, this is just an Organic as Zero would put it.” Organic? Fucking- You jump slightly and glance to your left when the Mandorlorian makes a shocked exclamation at her words. Maker, you’re so sickened you forgot he was with you.

“You mean a Slave? From the shipment?” He hisses the question through his teeth. You can’t see his face but you can hear the tension in his jaw, his body still a ridged form at your side. Xi’an pokes her tongue out and runs it lightly over the pointed edge of her teeth while she considers her response. She seems to be measuring her response to Mando with a little more care than she bothered with while speaking to you. You’re guessing that she cares far more about his perception of her than your personal attitude regarding the Twi’lek. Wouldn’t want to piss off her fuck buddy.

“Answer me!” He snaps when her response takes a millisecond too long. Your purple associate sighs, exasperated now.

“Yes a slave,” she hisses, drawing out the word in contempt, “Really I’m doing him a favor. From the looks of him, he was picked up on Tatooine. I doubt he even had a family to mourn him back on that shitty dustball of a planet-” Her eyes suddenly bulge as she clamps her mouth shut, gaze fixed on the armored man betraying a twinkle of... fear?

Slowly, you turn to him. The pit in your stomach is somehow weighing heavier than ever when you take in his body language. If you thought he was emanating white-hot rage before Xi’an’s response then you don’t even have words for how he holds himself now. You take a half step back in trepidation as the air around you seems to warp around the Mandalorian’s gravitational pull.

“A foundling?” His tone is unexpectedly quiet for someone who is manipulating the very atmosphere of this desert planet. Time seems to freeze. Shadows are ebbing at the edge of your vision and your head feels like it is going to pop in the pressure. You want to do something, anything, to relieve the pressing wall closing in on the three of you, to somehow end this interaction so that you can crawl in on yourself and bury the ghosts in the back of your mind. Fuck, your mouth is so dry, heart palpitating with a painful squeeze. Shit, fuck, what do you do? What did he mean by that question and why is Xi’an freaking out? You’re still fixated on the gleam of his helmet, rushing to find appropriate words when-

A flash of red explodes in your peripheral-vision, sparks seeming to fly 20 feet in the air. The words die in your throat in shock.

Did he? Did he shoot her? You barely saw him move yet as your mind races to catch up on this turn of events, you realize his blaster is drawn low on his hip, while the rest of him hasn't shifted an inch. The pressure cooker disappears in a sweeping wave of silence.

You swallow and turn awkwardly back to Xi’an. Oh.

He shot the slave.

Xi’an is just as stiff as you, her arms slightly raised as if she instinctively tried to ward off the blaster fire before realizing its trajectory. You are still processing his actions when a gloved hand wraps around your wrist and pulls you swiftly as he runs from the scene, tossing a flash bomb behind the both of you.

Without question, you run with him.

----------------

“Hey!” Within minutes your chest is burning from keeping up with Mando’s relentless pace. You’re fit from your job but he's twice as big as you and probably more than twice as fast. You get the feeling that he's moving slower than usual so you aren’t left behind. Struggling to control your breathing, you attempt to make sense of the jumbled thoughts by wheezing out, “M-Mando what are we doing?”

“Running.”

“Okay, fucking obviously!”

“To the Crest.” He clarifies just as shortly. Okay. Okay, once you reach his ship maybe you’ll get more answers. Right now, both of your priorities align with getting the fuck away from Xi’an before her vision returns and she comes after the both of you. But you can’t yet push some of the recent events to the side.

“You shot him.” You mean to phrase it like a question but it comes out more accusatory than intended with how breathless you are. “The slave you shot-“

“I ended his suffering.”

Oh. That makes sense, even if it makes your chest contract in duress you recognize his killing the slave came from a place of empathy. What exactly did he say right before drawing his blaster, something about… foundlings? You don’t know the term exactly but contextually you can guess it means orphan or alone. Fuck, this is so bad. Just what are you going to tell everyone? He may not have directed his shot at the Twi’lek but he temporarily blinded her. That still counts as an attack on a member of the team. Your chest is burning unbearably now so you slap at Mando’s vambrance to signal your need for a break. He drags you gasping around a corner into the shadowy edge of the warehouse.

“Listen, hey, look at me.” His large hand reaches out to gently grip the side of your face, warm against your skin and smelling sharply of blaster residue. Looking into his visor you realize your cheeks are damp again as hysterical hiccups threaten to make themselves known. “We are going to run. You don’t have to come with me of course but I unintentionally put you in the position of being complicit by attacking Xi’an. That-that wasn’t the plan… but I was leaving the company anyway”

His chest suddenly deflates as he rids it of air.

You realize you were holding your breath at the same time as him as you gasp out, before rubbing at your cheeks and asking dumbly, “Y-you were… leaving the company? Is Ran pissed?”

Stupid question. Of course, he’d be pissed at losing the one Mandalorian in the group. Mandos' presence gave him cred.

“Ran doesn’t know.”

“Ran doesn’t… what? When was this happening then?”

Mando’s visor turns away from your gaze and looks off into the middle distance. His gloved hand on your face is still gripping gently to lock you in place. “Today. That’s the only reason why I agreed to let him use the Crest for this job.”

He shakes his helmet slightly and turns back to your face, the metal covering his face becoming your main focal point while the room spins. You can't see his features, and never would, yet you feel as if you are looking directly into his eyes. Your body has impeccable timing when you feel your cheeks heat blushing.

However, your senses return in an instant when a familiar piercing howl echoes off the walls. The glove drops and he is gripping your shoulders,

“Can you run again?”

Adrenaline springs your limbs into action as you spin around, catching his wrist and pulling, roles reversed as you lead him in the direction of his ship.

Dust is billowing from below whenever your feet meet the ground. The steps sound like thunder in your ears as paranoia begins to worm its way into the forefront of your senses, every corner, every shadow, every blindspot could be hiding one of your former partners. Xi’an is an excellent assassin; time and time again her main skill has proven to be stealth, targets dropping dead expectedly. The Crest isn’t very far thankfully. It sits right on the back of the targeted freighter since Zero requires physical contact to hack the other ship systems for paths. Oooohh shit you forgot about the droid-

“Mando, Zero’s in there.” You puff out shortly in between breaths.

“Fuck that droid. I’ll take care of him, just back me up.” You both slide around a corner as he responds, bringing the two ships into your field of view. You are facing the rear end of the larger vessel, thankfully leaving the coast clear as far as you can tell. Mando’s helmet scans the area then nods, indicating the go-ahead with his fingers before running ahead of you. You follow him, casting fervent glances behind you for any signs of life. You reach the ship a millisecond after he does, his vambrance held high to lower the rear ramp. As the ramp begins to lower he grips your shoulders and spins you around dizzily.

“Stay right outside here. The second I enter the crest I’m dropping the Droid. I’ll call you once it’s safe.” You gulp quickly and nod in assent right before he leaps into the opening of the ship.

Seconds pass.

Your nerves are plucking way more than they normally would.. You never particularly liked Zero, but the sudden turn of taking out your ex-allies is making you high strung and nervous. Zero’s voice cuts through the silence, making you jump.

“Mandolarian, you are back early. Were the prospects plentiful despite being Organics?”

“No.” You twitch when a shot echoes in the hull followed by the clash of metal on metal.

The Mandalorian sharply calls your name springing you into action. You enter the ship immediately spying Zero’s body under the cockpit ladder, blaster wound still smoking with red-hot metal ringing the edges. Your eyes linger a little on the droid’s body, slightly leery at the death of someone who was your backup only hours ago, then you sigh and duck to get a handle on under his shoulders, dragging him to toss out the open entryway.

Grunting with effort you direct your voice at the cockpit, “Tossing the droid! Take off when read- Shit.”

One of the droid's hip joints gets stuck on a portion of the hull wall, preventing you from moving his corpse. Something wizzes above you at the exact moment you duck down to adjust the body, right where the back of your head was a second ago. One of Xi’an’s triangle blades ricochets off the wall and slides across the floor, stopping right under your nose. Oh f-

“Fuck! Fly, fly, she's here Mando!” You lurch to the floor as the thrusters kick in, twisting your head to try and get eyes on the clearing. Through the rapidly closing ramp, you see a flash of purple skin, but before you have time to react the Crest door snaps shut. Heart thudding at what feels like a million beats per second, you try to get your bearings on the floor. Twisting sideways you suddenly find yourself face to face with Zero’s corpse, revulsion whipping through you like lightning as you scramble backward on your hands and feet.

You can’t do this right now.

The last thing you want is to seem weak and needy in front of the man who just selflessly saved your life, for reasons still unknown, but you can’t do this right now. A creature of habit, you fold your neck between your legs, the same reaction you had to the violence on Cantonica. A minute, you just need a minute, a minute and then this horrible drone will go away, and you can deal with this, you’re a fucking mercenary… the blackness swarming at the edges of your sight overtakes you all at once and you slide limply to the floor.

------------------------------------------

You aren’t sure how much time has passed once you rouse. At your request, Mando tosses Zero's body before kicking into hyperdrive right about 120,000 feet in the air. You stare at its flight path until the speck disappears in the taupe shithole that is Cantonica. Feeling shaky as your adrenaline finally dips, you decide that the Crest could do with a once over before the long journey.

After performing a quick analysis on the Crests systems it’s determined that the two of you are lucky this hunk of metal can fly. Hyperdrive operating at 67% capacity, weak communication signal if it even works half the time, plus more damage than you can currently process. If there weren’t five million different stressors weighing on you, your mechanic brain would probably explode at the current state of Mando’s ship. He probably should’ve taken it to you, or anyone else handy with tools if he wanted it to be in proper form for departure, but it makes sense that he didn’t want to draw too much attention. Hopefully, his pilot skills will compensate for the Crest’s sorry state.

To be fair, the whole blow-up-your-coworker-and-run-for-your-life aspect didn’t seem to be in Mando’s original plan.

“So… where are we going?” You’re on the floor in the cockpit, back facing the passenger chair while the Mandalorian is seated pilot. After crawling under the console for a while you couldn’t bother to lift your aching muscles on the chair, resigning to scoot on your butt over to the closest object that could support you. As a result, you end up craning your neck to look up at him, his back straight in the chair.

“My original plan was to head to Nevarro to take on a few quarries. I’m still with the guild and Karga doesn’t give a shit whether I’m running with Ran or going in alone.” You bite your lip anxiously. Oh yeah, you kinda forgot your presence threw wrench in his plan. He notices and tilts the helmet sideways at you, “You’re not in the way. I’m not concerned about you joining me, someone of your skillset is helpful to have around. I’ll introduce you to Karga so you can get on your feet.”

The compliment lifts your spirits enough to make you playful, poking at his boot with your toe, “Gee, glad I’m useful enough to keep around. All I have is my blaster and the clothes on my back, so if you drop me, I’d be pretty fucked.”

You giggle quietly but you know it’s the truth. All of your possessions are back on the space station, but you didn’t own too many personal artifacts, aside from some clothes and weapons. The only thing of use would’ve been your credits. You worry again at the realization, dipping your head before continuing to speak,

“Shit Mando, I don’t have any money on me. It was all back in my bunk, I don’t know how I’ll help pay for things around here unless Karga decides I can take on a quarry right away. Even then I’ll have to bring it back before I ever have a lick to my name.”

“You can make it back. I’ll split the profit from jobs that you assist me on. Cut depends on how useful you are and once you prove yourself, Karga will give you the decent pucks.” He swivels the chair and faces you, knees slightly spread as he leans forward in the chair, “Deal?”

You swallow and nod your head, mind blanking at how your head is level with the bend in his hips. You don’t think he's trying to come across as suggestive but the effect, intentional or not, invites a flutter of desire in your tummy. The Mandalorian leans back on his leather backing and sighs, the sound gentle despite the modulator warping his natural tone,

“You aren’t in my way. I swear it. If I had more time before leaving I would’ve asked you to join me anyway, you're good with your hands and always had more… compassion? Than anyone else in the company. I admire that quality.” That makes you straighten back up to meet his visor. He sounds nearly shy.

“O-oh…” You never even thought he noticed you aside from when you touched up the Razor Crest. The compliment sends warmth throughout your body, as languid as sex pollen in the near feverish effect. You don’t know how to respond at all, you’re feeling disjointed, like you may reveal too much if you don't change the subject soon. You wish you could be snappier but you’re exhausted. Maybe try for a joke?

“I g-guess you value girls good with their hands, huh. H-haha?”

Silence. Hm.

That was the absolute worst thing you could’ve come up with.

It didn’t meet even a single one of your simple ass goals, which entail the following:

Thank him.

Change the subject.

Not reveal how much his words make you want him to rail you.

Wow, what the fuck- kill me. He hasn’t moved an inch, much less reacted to your shitty joke. The positioning of your bodies that you found so hot ten seconds prior is now a place you’d try anything to escape from. It’s almost comical how his height advantage serves to emphasize the disappointment in the small room. He hasn’t responded so you’re guessing he won’t bother to try. Heavy silence suffocates you to the point of desperation, you need to fill it with something right now or you swear you’ll die.

“I-I jus-t mean like- Well you had certain- ah- habits, you’d adhere to in your free time. Li-like um, I mean you didn’t hide much. Kinda obvious if you- listen, uh, I didn’t mean t-to say that I-I was joking around-”

“Get to the point.”

“I-” Your tummy fills with heat at his command. “Umm..” You wipe your hands on your thighs and glance down from his voice. The hours of on and off adrenaline must be majorly messing with your head. It’s kinda weird that you want him this badly after everything that went down today. Wasn’t your most recent concern something about avoiding death at the hands of a bitch you hate most in the galaxy? To be honest you can’t recall.

The proximity of his groin is suddenly at the forefront of your mind. Again.

He slowly tilts his helmet to look at you, arms bending to settle in a relaxed position on the armrests. You are extremely aware of how you’re blatantly staring at him but your mind is slow to come up with a valid response, blankness written in the reflection on his visor. His position on the chair is mountainous, looming over your body in a way that boxes you in between the passenger seat and the Crest console. You feel like a prey animal... In a sexy way? Maybe?

Although, when he leans back into his seat, helmet still trained on your face, you are unsure if you’re actually pissing him off or not.

“Say what you mean.”

Okay, the sexy is mixing a little with anxiety.

“Ah- Um well, I just mean like. It’s not like you hid it from me- everyone else too. In the company. Ran’s company? ‘Cause, I- We… always overheard you and Xi’a- Her…” Fuck, your mouth is so dry that last part came out like a squeak. “I’m sorry, I’m rambling again um, I kinda thought you were doing it on purpose. With Xi’an. Making me hear when you’d...fuck her.” Cheeks blazing, you duck your head back down, which doesn’t help at all since you’re just face to face with his crotch once more.

“You say ‘always’...” Mando’s inflection is lost somewhere between statement and question, his tone confusing enough that you end up lifting your head from its bowed position below him.

“Y-yes?”

“As in this was a common position you found yourself in? Did you overhear me multiple times?” Now he poses not one but two questions for you, neither of which you feel brave enough to answer steadily. You can’t deflect further at this point so you answer him with a sigh.

“No, I only heard you once. Xi’an always wanted me to hear her though. It was gross.” Mortified, you gather your legs under your body to stand up from the floor. You think the hyperdrive issue is fixed well enough to hold until Nevarro. When your hand reaches for the edge of the armrest to pull yourself up it is abruptly enveloped in warm leather. Half crouched, your arm jerks back a little in surprise at his touch.

“I wasn’t asking about myself specifically. And I wouldn’t force you to participate in her games, had I known.”

Maker strike my ass down. Can humans die from embarrassment? You wish it were possible if it got you out of this conversation. He’s correct, he didn’t specify whether you had heard his moaning. If you weren’t nursing these stupid feelings for Mando you never would’ve given away the fact that you memorized every tantalizing second of what you overheard. Not only is this embarrassing, but you don’t want him to think you’re a sicko who wanted to eavesdrop in the first place. The clarification about his awareness of Xi'an's timing is comforting but not enough to erase what you already admitted to him. You somehow feel sweaty and bone-dry at the same time, a flush spreading over your face.

“I’m so sorry.”

“I heard you too.”

You both speak at the same second, and a beat passes before either of you process what the other said. He- what? What is he talking about? Are we having two totally different conversations right now? When did you ever fuck someone on that space station anyway… unless he means… in the fresher…

This time he is the one who breaks the silence, “You’re sorry for… overhearing me?”

“Y-yes, I really, really, don’t want you to think I’m a creep or anything. Anything I heard was involuntary, I swear. Xi’an w-wanted to make me… Um…” You trail off shyly, sitting down again. His hand is still over yours.

“Get to the point.” His voice is filled with heat now, so low and compelling that you’d tell him anything just to keep it that way. You whisper your response, lifting your eyes to his dark visor wishing you could meet his gaze.

“She wanted to make me jealous. Over you.”

“Mm… You wanted me instead?”

“Maker, yes.”

The climate between you and the Mandalorian made a 180. Nerves dissolving like honey in tea, all at once being taken over by a hum of sexual tension while his fingers caress a warm pattern over your knuckles. Exhilaration builds within you, though in the back of your mind you are calculating the possible motives behind his advance.

You know sometimes, after a particularly rough day, people are compelled to relieve their pent-up stress through intimacy. There’s a reason why the market of sex work thrives under wartime, terror existing constantly in a fighter’s life must be paired with the softer, inner-most comforts of knowing another living being, or they’d go mad with sorrow. Brothels made a lot of money during the last stages of the Empire’s rule from both Imps, Rebels, and neutral parties alike.

It’s not out of the ordinary for you to seek each other out right now, yet can’t help but dream that this might mean more.

The Mandalorian’s hand currently encasing yours flips your wrist to trace the lines of your palm. Sighing you tilt your head to the side, a curtain of hair cascading across your features. His free hand reaches out to brush the strands away before he gently grips your jaw, hand large enough to press his thumb on the front of your chin while his fingers wrap lightly under your ear.

“I heard you too, pretty girl. You called out for me in the fresher… just what were you doing in there? Describe it- please.” He speaks with such allure that you break under his voice, pressing your cheek to his palm.

“I-I thought of you watching me while I touched my pussy. I was so wet thinking about how I want you to feel me after being under all your armor, Stars, even the wind can’t touch you Mando. I thought about how you must crave the feeling of something so soft… can I show you how soft I am?” Your free hand raises to rest gently on his knee, fingertips hesitating at the edge of his thigh piece. He is still fully suited for battle, explosives strapped to one boot and rifle across his shoulders.

You wish so badly to help him unwind, you would never disrespect him by trying to remove his armor, but you want to help him move past the experience that was Cantonica. Mando continues to stare at you for several tense seconds before melting into your touch.

“H-helmet stays on.” He breathes out shakily, a slight tremor running through his legs as your fingers lightly explore the fabric under the edge of the piece of metal. “But the rest… the rest can come off.”

He’s already moving to undo the magnetic connectors holding his cuirass in place so you scramble to follow his movements. The rust-colored armor on his body has complex enough attachments that you don’t really know where to begin. Your hands clamber around, mostly following his deft movements. Slowly a man of flesh and blood is revealed, and as his impenetrable exterior melts away you find the true shape of him.

The armor serves to add a few inches of bulk on his features, enhanced proportions making out a dramatic silhouette designed to be spotted from miles away. Without it his body is still so powerful, built hard as stone and broad, hard angles melding enticingly with a hidden softness. Not hidden- you realize -it compliments him completely. The pieces fall away and you’re left with the unexplored bareness of him. He is human and warm, evidence of this betrayed in rare moments where his hands travel lightly up your arms while you work at his pauldrons, brushing through your hair here and there before finally returning to your jaw to hover in front of your lips.

“Off.” He instructs shortly, brushing the seam of his thumb over your bottom lip. Your mouth falls open to explore him with your tongue, tasting salt, blaster residue, and a hint of the heat he holds in his body. Satisfied, you bite down gently on the glove ridge, watching as he pulls off the leather encasing his hand and drinking in the sight of golden skin as it is revealed to you inch by inch. All you’ve seen of him is one bare hand and somehow it is the sexiest thing you’ve ever laid your eyes on. Flames lick your body, spreading from your white-hot core, energy gathering with such impassioned motions that at any second now it will burst from your skin, a reaction so immense that you could birth another galaxy.

You want to taste his skin too.

“Fuck baby-” You take his middle finger down to the knuckle, emboldened by his slurred reaction, noises startling to babble out of the bounty hunter as his stoicism falls apart under your tongue. Humming around the digit, you start to bob your head gently, eyes locked on his impassive visor while filthy, filtered noises drift through the beskar. It’s like there is no barrier at all between you, the air thrumming with a longing so great that you feel one with the man crumbling before you. If you're not careful you will fall with him.

“Mando, Plea-se,” You stutter around him, voice shaking more than intended. “I want to f-feel more of you, let me touch you, please-” You squawk, mouth empty when he suddenly rips off the other glove, tossing it behind him before reaching down his torso to pull the hem of his trousers south. You gulp in trepidation, unable to tear your eyes away as enticing dark hair displays itself, leading to the base of his cock. He pauses, but you’re so caught up in discovering him that you don’t notice the tonal shift.

“Before I show you this-” dark words enunciated by palming his cock through the fabric, “I need to know where to put it.”

What kind of question is that? You’re honestly bewildered, mind blank before you realize that the options are overwhelming. In his own way, he is asking you to verbalize consent, which is very much appreciated. You want him in your pussy, to work his way deep in your body and in turn, discover just how human you are... yet… You feel oddly unprepared. It’s not that you don't think you can take him, in fact you can't recall ever being this wet in your life. It’s just… after today… you want to help him unwind but you’re still not fully there. You still want to please him, but you’re not ready to let him know you that way, not until you come back to yourself.

So in that case…

“I want you in my mouth, hunter.”

Mando growls then grabs your wrist, guiding it over the edge of fabric and onto his throbbing length. He shudders while you process the feeling of him. He is thick, the width of his cock so wide that your middle finger and thumb are straining to meet each other. You release him from his pants then try to pull at the hem to wiggle them down his thighs. He obliges and lifts his hips so that you can reveal more delicious olive skin, but he makes no move to assist you with his hands. You get the feeling that he is drinking in your efforts to touch him, the sensation of your jerky movements giving away how much you want him.

You kiss and nibble at every possible moment, one hand drifting lightly over the length of him, twirling at the base dusted with short, dark hairs, cupping his balls then moving back up, your mouth traveling to meet your fingers. Hissing, his hand flashes up to meet the back of your head, fingers tangling in strands to tug tightly on your scalp. With a light moan, you tongue along the side of him, teasing hot air more than actually licking him.

“Look at me- fuck - pretty thing, s-so fucking willing for me, I want to see you take my cock as far as you can, s-show me how much you can handle-” He pulls harder at your hair, dragging you roughly enough to control your neck, back up from where you were sucking at his hip to the head of his dick. “Are you going to show me yourself before or after I gag you on it?”

Fuck, you never realized how tantalizing submitting to another person could be, not until that came out of his mouth, rough enough to clip through the modulator. You elect to show him what you can handle. Leaning forward to meet the swollen tip, you part your plush lips and kiss at the drop of precum gathered there, before relaxing your jaw to take him halfway. He groans and nearly doubles over at the sudden sensation, holding you there for a second before you draw back up to spread your saliva more thoroughly. Lips rewet, you sink back down on him, gliding smoothly as you pull his cock deep within your mouth, drinking in his breathy groans.

“Maker, yes … that’s it, fuck-” You attempt to sink even further down on the Mandalorian’s impressive length, but stop short a few inches from his base, blunt head pressing in your throat. “-so good, s-so good for me baby, you look perfect like this.”

He’s so far back inside you that you can’t access your vocal cords to produce any noise at all, otherwise you’d be whining at his praise. Your hands are free to assist you at any time, you could circumvent his daunting length if you wanted help. But you want to impress him. Besides, your palms are warm on his torso, traveling under his shirt to feel the ropes of muscle there. You don’t want to remove them.

You surface to the tip, taking a deep breath in preparation before ducking to take him as deep as you can manage. He watches you, entranced at the sight of a face so lovingly strained to please him. Your gag reflex spasms but you will it away, determined to fully engulf his cock at least once even if you find you’re unable to handle more. The noises rising from your throat are brutal and raw as you choke around him, his helmet blurring when tears fill your eyes. You bob a little then almost give up when the urge to retreat floods your senses but then he starts talking again- so filthy that you can’t stop yet.

“You’re trying so fucking hard, fuck, I love seeing you wrapped around my cock, Maker, you feel so fucking good, I can’t imagine how your little pussy must feel, you’re so warm, so, fu-fuck, tight…” The stream of filth serves as your motivation to bob for as long as possible on his length, throat stretched obscenely around him. You realize hazily that there are tears streaming from your eyes, but the urge to pull off is lost in dizziness as the oxygen in your lungs depletes. You keep going and going, your high at its peak as you recognize that your body is starting to fade in black. You should pull off and breathe, one quick breath is all you need, but the way he’s filling you is more addicting than the purest Spice. He notices when you start to slump into his lap and pulls you up gasping for air.

Nearly fainting never felt so good.

“Shit, are you alright?” You nod and rest your cheek on his thigh, face turned on its side to meet his visor as he spins little circles in your vision. A soothing hand brushes against your cheekbone, tracing a gentle pattern on its height. “You were doing so good for me baby. No need to hurt yourself.” Mando’s voice is still breathless, offering you tenderness through a cloud of stimuli.

“I’m okay- I’m… I just need to catch m-my breath.” You’re still heaving unevenly but you want him so bad, you want him to finish for you, your wants translating into weak pawing at his dick trying to give him more sensation. He catches your wrist with an airy laugh and guides your uncoordinated movements to better stroke him. The sound fills you with light.

“Pretty thing, I know you want me. Try to not die on my dick before I’ve had the chance to feel your cunt.” His hand leaves yours on his length and reaches over your ass to cup the apex of your thighs through your pants. You jerk up and almost crack the crown of your head open on the chin of his beskar but his other palm is pressed between your shoulder blades, keeping you bent over in his lap. A garbled noise tears from you when his index and ring finger spread on either side of your outer lips, allowing his middle finger space to travel up and down your seam, so wet that you can feel the slickness gathering through two layers of fabric onto the tip of his finger.

“Ah, Fuck! Mando, I-I- wait please, please, wait-” He draws his hand up away from your wet center, reaching your asscheek before you yelp and snatch his forearm to stop him from retreating farther. “I s-still wanna, I wanna make you come. You first, before-before me.”

“Baby, you’re… fuck okay. Can I still touch you?” Mando caresses your hip at the fold where it meets your thigh.

“Later, let me d-do this, please.” He allows you to lift his arm from your spine and rest it on the crown of your head as you move forward and try to meet his cock again. Pulling his thighs to the edge of the chair, you settle back on your knees and stroking him one-handed while he hums low in his throat. You wrap your lips around the swollen head, sucking and swirling your tongue before taking him deeper, this time using a palm to stroke the last few inches instead of opening your throat. Starting up a rhythm of bopping and stroking his velvety length that pulls incredible noises out of the Mandalorian, each one going straight to your swollen clit.

Coming up for air you start to jerk him off faster with your slick hand, meeting the T of his visor with your heated gaze, hoping that you are finding his eyes. He must enjoy the sight of you jerking him off because his moans start to tighten, hips thrusting into your palm.

“K-keep fucking doing that, good girl, fuck I-I’m close, where-where do you want it, baby?” You respond by settling low near his thighs, putting his cock above you with your tongue sticking out, wetting the tip while your wrist moves faster. Somehow he’s harder than ever and-

Mando curses through his teeth as his cock convulses, warm spurts of cum painting your tongue, cheeks, and nose bridge, rivers of him flowing down your chin and dribbling on the swell of your chest. He grips the back of your head tight enough to hurt, then rips one hand down to stroke himself, smearing the mess across your features.

The fingers on your scalp loosen then graciously begin rubbing at the base of your neck to soothe the soreness on your head. One of your eyelids is sealed shut due to a rope of his cum crossing from nose to eyebrow, the other eye unfocused, hazy with pleasure as you listen to him come down from his peak. A low noise rises from your throat as he massages your scalp, feeling tingly all over as blood flows back to the area.

“T-Thank you… that was great, I-“ he breaks off when you start to gather his cum off your skin, licking it off your fingers while studying his visor through your lashes. “Hey, let me…”

He surprises you by wiping at your face with his cape, still hanging off the arm of the pilot chair from when you detached it. You giggle, “Is there a way to wash that on here? I can’t even tell if that hole in the wall includes a shower.”

“There’s enough to work with.”

You laugh louder at that, “That’s encouraging. I hope there’s ‘enough to work with’ so that I don’t meet Karga covered in cum.” Pausing to consider your current position, you add, “Actually, that might help my case.”

Face wiped mostly clean, you're able to open both eyes now, taking in his posture. A jolt shoots through you when you realize he’s holding himself differently for some reason, he looks almost predatory but maybe that’s just the effect of Beskar’s harsh angles... Nope, he’s leaning forward now, caging you in again.

“You want to look sexy for Karga?” Gulping, you try to figure out the best response but he continues before your slow-ass mind can catch up, “You’re right, that might help you get better pucks. But I don’t know if I want my hunting partner to be introduced that way. I still need to return the favor…”

He lifts your body with ease, pulling you sideways onto his lap. Mando’s warm hand slides along the bend in your knee, slow and sensual on your body. He caresses you aimlessly, relaxed in the afterglow of cumming so hard. You’re still tightly wound, energy balled in your body as his movements serve to wind you up even more. But he’s not moving any faster so you relax into his broad chest, enjoying the feeling of his bare skin.

Time blurs with your senses. His touch pulls you to a place right out of your daydreams, where everything is draped in velveteen and silk. You’ve honestly forgotten his original goal in the first place, and as his arm begins to drag on its path, it seems like he has too. The stroking on your arm has lowered your arousal to a simmer, leaving you content to stay laying across his lap, the glow of hyperspace streaking over your bodies. All at once, you realize he’s no longer moving over your body, his chest rising and falling deeply against your shoulder.

He’s asleep. Surprise registers sleepily somewhere in your exhausted mind, the realization behind layers of warm fuzz. Didn’t even think he slept.

There’s a full day of travel until you reach Nevarro. Snuggling closer into the warm crook of his neck to resolve to live in this dream for as long as possible. Who knows what tomorrow will bring.

#the mandalorian #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x reader insert #mando x reader #reader insert #fanfic #star wars #mandalorian fanfic #din djarin x reader #smut #smut fic #mandalorian smut fanfic #the mandalorian x you #mando x you

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parkersharthook · 5 years

Text

All My Sides Ch. 4

(Peter Parker x female!reader)

warnings: gunshot, gsw, crying, angst, happy ending

5.3k+ words

Ch 3

“I want you to take off your mask, Spiderman. Reveal yourself for who you truly are.”

“guys?” Wanda’s voice came over the comms very worried.

“yeah we heard it, we need to speed this up guys.” Natasha’s voice had a bite to it

Tony was mumbling to himself in his suit as he sped through the skies, “c’mon Peter.”

~.~

The entire Nation was halted as they watched on whatever screen they could find. All of times square was stationed and watching as each billboard played the horrific scenes. Some shook with fear while others cried for Y/n. No one knew what was going to happen.

~.~

“what?” Peter’s voice croaked out as Y/n’s eyes flew open. “you want me to reveal my identity? That’s it.”

Dr. Connors shrugged slightly, “that’s it.”

Y/n struggled in the chair as her bloodshot eyes were blown wide and she shook her head violently. She mumbled against the cloth gag that was in between her teeth. Dr. Connors growled and grabbed her throat to stop her movements.

Peter screamed, “Let her go! I’ll do it!”

Dr. Connors narrowed his eyes, “then do it.” Peter grabbed the bottom of his mask before letting out a deep breath. He steeled his nerves and lifted the mask off of his face. His brown curls came into view.

“there. Now let her go.” Y/n had tears streaming down her face.

“turn around, give us a spin.” Dr. Connors laughed, “let the world see your face.”

Peter was about to move when he saw a dark shadow outside the dirty window. Dr. Connors must have saw it too because he whipped around to face it. He looked between Peter and the window for a moment before all chaos broke lose. Natasha came sailing through the window, glass shattering everywhere. Clint came in through another one a moment later as Wanda tore through a wall. Peter’s instincts kicked in as he ran towards Y/n, putting his body in between her and the gun.

He looked her in the eye, “I’m going to get you out of here.” She nodded slightly as Peter gently took out the cloth gag. Peter turned to kick the gun away, but he saw Dr. Connors stretch his hand for the button. Peter doesn’t know how he moved so quick but before he knew it, he was pushing Y/n and the chair to the side as the gunshot went off.

The world gasped.

Peter felt pain rip through his chest as he collapsed to the ground.

“Peter!” that was Y/n. or maybe Wanda. Peter didn’t know, the loss of blood making his head all foggy. He barely made out Tony’s repulsors getting closer before his vision went dark.

~.~

The world waited with still breath as Natasha quickly took out Dr. Connors before the team quickly surrounded Peter. The team blocked Peter’s body from the camera’s view but they could still see the crying Y/n that was tied to the chair.

She sobbed loudly, “Peter.” Clint quickly moved to untie and the moment she was free she pushed through the superheroes and dropped to her knees, cradling the unconscious Peter in her lap. The team took a few steps back which allowed the world to really see his face.

He’s so young. One voice said in the quiet mass.

“Tony…” Natasha swallowed thickly, She stumbled over her words as she saw the bleeding boy on the floor. “you need… you need to scan him.”

Natasha had never been this frazzled, not when Clint was hurt, not when Steve was hurt, not when Bucky was hurt. But something about seeing this young kid that wiggled his way into her life made her heart squeeze painfully and her throat to close up. It was the touch of Bucky’s hand on her back that snapped her back into motion.

“Tony!” her voice was much sharper, snapping the frozen man out of his thoughts. She walked around the room looking for something to stop the bleeding, “scan him! Now!”

“fri-Friday… scan him.”

“scanning sir.” A light buzz overtook the room as the iron man suit looked for any internal injuries. “GSW to the left chest cavity, it hit a major artery, but it seems to me that Mr. Parker is still breathing.”

Natasha smacked Bucky’s chest, “I need your jacket. Right now.”

Bucky quickly pulled the jacket off of his arms and handed it to Natasha. She wrapped it around Peter’s limp torso and tied it tightly. She looked up at Wanda who was shaking with tears in her eyes. “Wanda I need you to close the wound, just until we can get him back to the tower.” Natasha spun to face Clint, “get the jet.” He ran out the door.

Wanda shook her head, hands trembling. “I can’t do it. I’ve never practiced on a person before. I haven’t trained enough.”

Natasha grabbed her hands and stared directly into her eyes, “you can do it, because you have to do it. You want Peter to live right?” Wanda nodded silently, “then you need to try.”

Her voice cracked as tears fell from her eyes, “what if I fail?”

“you won’t.” Natasha’s calm voice and steadiness settled the pit in Wanda’s stomach slightly but not nearly enough to quell all of her nerves. She slowly sank to her knees and hovered her hands over Peter’s chest. His skin was ghostly pale, his lips turning an ugly shade of blue.

Y/n was still sobbing, holding Peter’s head in her lap. She ran her fingers through his hair, smoothing his curls away from his face. She looked up at Wanda and whispered hoarsely, “please.”

Wanda swallowed and nodded, her fingers meticulously weaving the air around her. Scarlet tendrils floated around her fingertips as she carefully closed the wound, successfully stopping the active bleeding. A loud turbine filled the quiet space and Natasha jumped into action, forcing her catatonic team to start moving again. She made Steve and Bucky enter the jet first, having to jump from the roof of the warehouse to the open door. The two held onto the handles by the still open door, their hair whipping around their face.

“You have to carry him steady. We need to keep him flat.” Natasha instructed as she pulled Y/n from Peter’s body. She wailed and reached for him, but Natasha just passed the frantic girl to Tony who quickly disembarked from the suit and wrapped his arms around her. Natasha saw the few tears that fell from his eyes. Wanda lifted Peter with her powers while Natasha kept her hands beneath the boy should he suddenly drop. Wanda concentrated as she passed the boy’s body through the air and into the waiting quinjet where Bucky and Steve quickly caught him and carried him over to a table. Natasha’s eyes didn’t leave the jet as she talked to Wanda, “get me up there and then get Y/n and Tony to the tower. I’ll call for vision to help you.”

Wanda shot Natasha into the closing hangar doors and she broke into a sprint as Natasha landed gracefully. Natasha rushed over to the table where Peter was laying. “Clint, floor it!” She braced herself as the jet sped up. “Bucky, there is a stretcher in the corner, get it.” Natasha straddled the young boy as she started compressions, Bucky quickly rolling over the stretcher. She helped the boys move Peter onto the movable table.

“Clint call Banner and Dr. Cho, tell them we need an OR immediately.”

“already on it, they’re waiting for us right now.” Clint expertly landed the jet, but Natasha didn’t even wait until the doors were completely open until she was pushing Peter down the hallway, Dr. Cho immediately meeting her and directing the gurney towards a sterile OR.

“What happened?” Cho demanded as she wrapped a mask around her face.

“shot in the chest, Friday’s scan said it hit an artery. He bled a lot, but Wanda was able to stop it, pulse weak.”

Banner came up beside them as they transferred Peter to the OR table, “he’s going into shock. We need to start immediately.”

Dr. Cho pushed Natasha to the side, so she could start connecting things to Peter, “Natasha… you have to leave. You did everything you could.”

Natasha could only stand still, watching silently. Bruce turned slowly, picking up a large needle and moving it towards Peter’s arm. He watched the screen intently, “injecting antidote now.” He slowly pushed the needle into Peter’s arm, his heartbeat spiking immediately.

Bruce took a step back with the now empty bottle, his hands raised. Everyone in the room waited with bated breath as his everything on the monitors started going crazy. Natasha’s eyes sprung wide as Peter’s body started convulsing violently. She stepped forward, but Dr. Cho just raised her hand.

“Nobody touch him. Natasha you need to leave now.” She didn’t move. Dr. Cho looked over to another nurse, “remove her.” The nurse gently pushed Natasha out of the OR, but Nat didn’t go passed the prep room as she watched the young boy convulse through the glass window.

Slowly his heartbeat slowed down, and his vitals went back to normal. Dr. Cho took a step forward, examining his stats for a moment before clapping her hands once, “he’s stable. Let’s get to work people or our neighborhood won’t have a Spiderman anymore.”

Natasha couldn’t tear her eyes away when Bruce cut open Peter’s suit or when Dr. Cho reopened the wound or when she entered a large tube, pulling blood out as she pulled back. She wanted to look away, but she couldn’t, not even when she saw Dr. Cho start the sutures which always made her cringe. She didn’t move until Bucky came in, wrapped his arms around her body and moved her himself.

He took her to her room and sat her down on the bed not once leaving her side. She didn’t move as she heard Wanda’s crying on the other side of her wall or when she heard the continuous knock of who she assumed was Steve at her door. She didn’t move when Friday’s voice came over to tell her that Peter was out of surgery and well. She didn’t move when Bucky prompted her to get in the shower. She didn’t move when Tony came in saying that she could see him if she wanted.

She just didn’t move. Partially because she didn’t want to. Mainly because she didn’t know how.

~.~

“hey. You’re gonna be okay.” Y/n voice was soft yet coarse as she stroked the back of Peter’s hand, his limb still limp but at least the skin was warmer. Y/n didn’t look at his face, knowing that she would gag at the feeding tube that was in his mouth and the gross bruise that surrounded his eye from his fall.

Wanda stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame. She was lost in thought, not knowing if she was welcomed here or not. This was personal.

But then Y/n cleared her throat slightly and barely glanced over her shoulder, “you can come in if you want.”

Wanda entered awkwardly, twiddling with her finger pads slightly. She stammered, “how are you… how are you doing?”

Y/n shrugged, not letting go of Peter’s hand. “I’m doing okay. Just one day at a time… ya know?”

Wanda nodded, tucking a strand piece of hair behind her ear, “yeah I get it. Um… how have your family reacted?”

Y/n let out a humorless chuckle. It was inevitable that her family, friends, classmates, professors, coworkers, and pretty much everyone else was reaching out to her trying to figure out what was happening and if it was true. Was Peter Parker really Spiderman?

“my dad was not happy about the situation, but my mom was surprisingly supportive.” Y/n wiped a small tear away, “she just wants him to be okay.” She let a genuine smile tug at her lips, “my brothers are really excited though. It was kind of cute.”

Wanda smiled slightly and walked to the other side of the hospital bed,

“I had a proposition.” Wanda quickly raised her hands in defense, “only if you say so though.”

Y/n paused her motions and looked up at the young girl, “a proposition?”

Wanda nodded and bit her lip, “I can… I can kind of go into his head? Like I can see if he really still is in there.”

Y/n widened her eyes, “you can do that?”

Wanda nodded slightly and laid her hands in her lap gently. “Yeah…” She could sense Y/n’s hesitation, “but nothing would happen. I wouldn’t see anything but brain activity, beyond what the machine could pick up. No memories, no emotions, just him. It won’t change anything in there either… if you were concerned about that.”

Y/n shook her head a small strand of hair falling loose. “No I wasn’t. I know Peter trusts you and I- I do too.” She looked up at Wanda with a watery smile, “You’re possibly one of the best friends I’ve ever had.”

Wanda smiled back at her and covered her hand with her own. She squeezed it gently, “would you like me to do it then?”

“And he won’t feel anything? No pain or discomfort?”

“nothing.” Wanda reassured her.

She bit her lip in thought for a moment before nodding with a sigh, “yeah… let’s do it. But I don’t think I can watch.” Y/n gave a reassuring squeeze to Peter’s hand before turning away slightly. Wanda just laid her hand gently on Peter’s forehead and closed her eyes.

A moment Wanda was back with a small smile. Y/n looked to her with nervous, watery eyes. Wanda smiled at her, “he is completely fine. He’s just letting his body recover some more. He is very happy that you’re here with him, but he wants you to take care of yourself.”

“you- you talked to him?”

“he is very active, so it was easy to find him in there.” Wanda smiled softly, “he’s going to be alright.”

A weight was lifted of off Y/n’s shoulders at Wanda’s words. So much so that her body physically sagged with relief. Y/n rubbed her thumb over his hand and glanced his way mumbling, “he’s gonna be okay.”

“do you think you can eat and sleep properly now?”

She let out a breathy laugh as she nodded, loose pieces of hair falling around her face. Y/n nodded again, “yeah I think so.” Another glanced towards him, “he’s gonna be okay.”

Wanda walked around the bed to gently move Y/n’s body from the chair. She repeated the words once more, “he’s gonna be okay.”

~.~

“oh Y/n honey! How are you?” Y/n wasn’t completely sure why but the sound of her mother’s voice brought tears to her eyes.

“I’m okay… really.” Y/n sighed as she leaned her head against the wall, “I’m sorry that I’ve been MIA.”

“Honey do not worry about it. We completely understand, we’ve just been worried about you. How are you?”

Y/n smiled. Somehow, despite the fact that her boyfriend was shot on live television and revealed to be Spiderman, the first question was directed at her. And it was… it was nice. This entire time she had been stressing over Peter that she really had been taking care of herself. But now she was sitting in a vacant hallway, a pair of loose sweatpants and a matching hoodie of Peter’s covering her body.

Y/n smiled brighter, “I’m okay. I’ve been really stressed for the past few days but he’s gonna be okay.”

“Oh honey that’s great. But how are you? Showering? Eating? Sleeping?”

“yeah I am. Well… I am now. I just took a really long shower and ate some pizza, I just wanted to check in with you.”

Y/n could hear her mother’s happiness, “I’m very happy to hear from you.”

Y/n fiddled with a loose thread as she bit her lip, “how’s everything there?”

Her mother sighed heavily, “crazy. Reporters have been outside our door since the news, your brothers haven’t been able to go to school since … so of course they’re happy with it.”

Y/n let out a small laugh. “I’m sure.” She hesitated, “how’s dad?”

“I’m not gonna lie to you y/n/n, he’s not happy. He doesn’t like the idea that your boyfriend is a crime fighting superhero.”

“this is the first time Peter has ever had like a serious injury.”

Her mother’s voice was quieter, “you know it’s not Peter he’s worried about.” Y/n felt new tears prick at her eyes, “when we saw you strapped to that chair… we couldn’t breathe. Your father –sigh—your poor father was at the station, he had every man available trying to track you.”

The tears began to flow down her cheeks, “I imagine.” y/n’s voice cracked slightly, “I’m sorry mom… I’m really sorry.”

“oh honey… you don’t need to apologize for anything! Your father’s not mad at you, he was just worried and scared. Oh honey he was so scared.”

“I know, but you can tell him that I’m perfectly okay. There’s nothing wrong or hurting or anything, everything is a-okay.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” A beat of silence, “do you mind me asking what happened?”

“when I got kidnapped?”

Her mother sighed slightly, “since everything. The villain guy… he said- he said that Peter… Spiderman lost his powers? Is that true?”

Y/n sighed, “yeah… it was that weekend that I came home and had to leave early because of a ‘work’ emergency. Wanda called me and said that Peter lost his powers, so I came back to be with him.”

“how’d it happen?”

y/n shrugged despite the fact that her mother couldn’t see it, “I’m not sure. Peter said it was some kind of energy blast, but I don’t really know for sure.”

“so he didn’t have any powers?”

“none.” She let out a small laugh, “he actually lost his good eyesight too… it was kind of funny. Apparently, before he got his powers, he had poor hearing and vision, so I got to see him in glasses.”

“was he cute?”

“mom!” y/n responded with a smile before adding, “yeah… he was. It was actually a really fun time when he didn’t have his powers. I just felt like… like all of the stress I carried for him was gone. We hung out like a normal couple… went on dates and everything.”

“but don’t you do that normally?”

“yeah… it’s just different. Before, Peter always had an ear out for sirens or people in danger. Then… it was just the two of us.” She picked at the thread, “am I selfish for saying this?”

“I don’t think so. I mean, it’s normal that you would want any danger directed at your boyfriend elimiNated and for the two of you guys to have alone time with no distractions but…”

y/n groaned slightly, “but?”

Her mother continued, “but it is selfish for you to make him choose between Spiderman and you, because to me… it sounds like an impossible choice. If you can’t handle the stress of him being a superhero then you’re gonna have to break up with him. But you can’t make him make that choice.”

“yeah I know… thanks mom.”

“of course sweetheart. Is he awake yet?”

“not yet. Wanda said he is just taking time to recover. To save him, they had to give him the antidote so in theory he got his powers back. But Dr. Banner said that it took a toll on his body, so he was overly exhausted which is why he hasn’t woken up yet.”

“That makes sense… I guess. Well I hope—”

“mom! Mom! Guess what just happened!” Y/n smiled as she heard her brother, Henry, in the background.

“Sweetheart, I’m on the phone with your sister.”

“Y/n!? I want to talk to her.”

“Just give me a second… Henry! Do not grab at my phone!”

“please mom I really want to talk to her!”

Y/n giggled slightly as she heard her brother argue fervently. Her mother grumbled slightly, “okay here she is but don’t talk for too long, you have homework to catch up on.”

“okay!” There was slight static as the phone was passed between hands, “Y/n! Oh my god I can’t believe it! Peter is Spiderman?! That’s so cool! Did you know? Of course you knew! Have you ever been swinging with him? Is he really as strong and as fast as the news says he is? Can he really lift three tons? What’s the spider sense? When did he get his powers? How did he get his powers? Can I come visit you guys?”

Y/n laughed into her phone as her brother continued to spew more and more questions out of his mouth. “Slow down Henry I can barely understand you.”

He sucked in a deep breath, “sorry sorry. I just can’t believe it!”

Y/n nodded, “yeah it’s crazy I know.” Her attention was drawn to the figure coming down the hallway and soon realized it was Natasha. Y/n expected her to continue walking and not give her a second glance but when she stopped in front of her, a weird sense of worry filled her heart.

“he’s awake.” Her voice was quiet as to not disturb Y/n’s phone call but honestly probably not much could stop her brother from his rapid fire questions.

Y/n’s eyes widened, and her heart rate picked up. She quickly mumbled into the phone, “hey something came up and I have to go. I’ll call you guys back soon. I love you. Tell mom and dad that I’ll call them back and that I love them as well. Tell your brothers too.”

“is everything okay?”

Y/n smiled and nodded, happy tears filling her eyes. “everything is great.”

~.~

“I just..” Y/n let out a deep sigh as she took another sip of the coffee, “I just don’t know where to go from here.”

Natasha gave her a sympathetic smile, “you could always come live here with us.”

y/n grimaced slightly, “it’s just… I had a normal life and then over the course of one day it all changed. Like I can’t even go near my college or even my damn apartment without being stopped by someone.”

“it’s hard to go public.” Natasha said wistfully, “I experienced the same thing when I released all of shield and hydra’s information. All of my wrongs and personal history were suddenly everywhere, and I was being recognized. It was strange to go from unknown to famous overnight.”

“strange is an understatement.” Y/n mumbled.

“I wouldn’t worry about it too much. You know that we’ll help out in any way possible.” She gave Y/n a knowing look, “I’m sure everything will work out.”

“I hope so.”

~.~

“hey kid, what’s got you looking so down?” Bucky asked as walked up to Peter who was currently sitting at the dining room table, lazily moving his spoon around in his bowl.

He sighed slightly and shrugged, “not much.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and sat down across from the boy, “you and Steve both suck at hiding your feelings. C’mon, what’s going on?”

Peter slumped in the chair slightly, “I overheard Y/n talking to Natasha the other day…” He bit his lip, “I’m worried she’s going to break up with me.”

The news came as a shock to Bucky, “really? Why would she break up with you?”

Peter sighed and shrugged slightly, “I think she doesn’t want to be publicly dating Spiderman, too much pressure. I don’t know…”

Bucky shook his head, “Don’t assume anything. Anytime I’ve seen couples get in fights it’s because someone assumes something and acts on impulse instead of talking to their partner.”

Peter smirked slightly as he looked at Bucky, “talking from experience?”

Bucky huffed out a laugh, “unfortuNately.” He stood up and put his now empty mug in the sink, “just talk to her.” He started walking out of the room before pausing and looking back at the young man, “it’s good to have you back Peter.”

Peter smiled at him, “it’s good to be back.”

~.~

“we are out here reporting live from Stark Tower for the fourth day with no update. Y/n y/l/n, the girlfriend of the famous web-slinging superhero has yet to make an appearance or a statement regarding the situation. We have reached out to her family for a comment but so far nothing of substance has come back.” The reported glanced up at the tower, “Five days ago Spiderman was shot on National television after it was revealed that he had lost his powers. It is unclear how Spiderman is doing or if he’s even alive.”

Another reporter beside that one started up, “Who is Spiderman? He’s the web-slinging superhero that protects the great city of new York. Dubbed as the friendly neighborhood Spiderman, a hero who takes the time to help people cross the street or rescue their cat from the tree. But who is Spiderman really? A child. Peter Parker, a twenty-one year old, college student at NYU is the ‘hero’ protecting you from muggers all the way to aliens. Sources report he has been Spiderman for six year which means he acquired his powers and began crime fighting at the age of 15. 15! Typically at fifteen we haven’t even had our first kiss yet. That brings up the question, who was this child’s guardian and what were they doing? Who lets a child go out performing dangerous actions nightly. Another source reports that Spiderman has been working with the avengers for three years, which means that at least some people have common sense and only let him on the team when he was an adult. So really the question is, how qualified is Spiderman really?”

“Peter Benjamin Parker, that’s the full name of our newly unmasked Spiderman. He’s a 21 year old college student at NYU, who, according to sources, is majoring in chemical engineering and minoring in photography. The young adult, who has been Spiderman for six years, has a rather sad origin story however it is not unique when looking at the hero spectrum. Mr. parker’s parents died when he was six, and his uncle was killed just two months before Spiderman was first seen. His last living relative, his aunt, who had been his guardian for the last 15 years passed last year due to cancer. Peter B Parker now resides—”

“Can we shut that off please?” Peter groaned out as he rounded the corner, his hands stuffed securely in his jacket pockets.

Y/n grimaced slightly as she pointed the remote at the tv and quickly turned it off. She tucked her leg beneath her as Peter came to sit with her on the couch. She fiddled with her fingers, “how are you feeling?”

Peter nodded slightly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes from his nap. “a lot better.”

Y/n nodded, biting her lip. “that’s good. Great, really. Super happy to see you’re getting better.”

Peter didn’t say anything but offer her a small smile. It was awkward between the two, both stuck in a sort of crossroads. Y/n knew she loved Peter, but she wasn’t quite sure how to manage the whole famous thing. Peter, on the other hand, was living in constant fear that Y/n would break up with him at a moment’s notice. They both were wound too tightly at the moment. Either could snap. But who would do it first?

They sat in the tense silence for a moment before Y/n glanced at Peter and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “is there anything I can do for you? Anything you need?”

Peter shook his head, picking at the cushions. “No I’m all good.” He looked up to meet her concerned gaze, “is there anything I can do for you?”

Y/n gave him a sweet smile. She laid her hand over his and squeezed gently, “Peter you need to be worrying about yourself right now. I’m fine.”

Peter nodded, looking away and mumbling, “I wish I could just worry about myself.”

“What was that?”

Peter whipped around, quickly shaking his head to cover his words. “oh nothing. Me? I didn’t say anything.”

Y/n sighed and turned her body to fully face him. “Peter.” The way she said his name broke his heart. So sad and… and ready to give up. “What’s going on with us? I know you can feel the strain too.”

Peter bit his lip, struggling to contain his question anymore. He looked up at her glossy eyes and pursed lips and couldn’t handle it. He blurted out, “Are you breaking up with me?”

Y/n reeled back in shock. How could he think that? Where did he even hear that? Natasha wouldn’t tell him, would she? Maybe he—oh my god. Her brows furrowed angrily, “Were you eavesdropping?”

“I didn’t mean too!” Peter shrugged sheepishly before realizing you didn’t deny it. He looked up with hurt painted across his face, “so it’s true.”

Y/n rolled her eyes at the clueless boy, “No it’s not true you dimwit. But if you had really listened to the conversation then you’d have known that I’m annoyed with the lack of privacy not with you!”

Peter sighed and grabbed your hands, “I did hear that. It’s just… that’s probably not going to go away so the only thing that could make it better is…”

“if we go away?” Y/n asked with a raised brow. Peter sighed and nodded, looking down at your connected hands.

Y/n tugged his body a little closer to hers, “Peter. Peter, look at me.” He forced his head upwards, so their eyes met, “I love you. I love you so fucking much. I had no idea I could love a person this much.”

Peter was smiling at her, raising their hands so he could press a kiss to the back of her hand. He let them drop with a small frown, “I feel like there’s a but here somewhere.”

Y/n sighed and nodded, “but I have to be careful. I have my future and my career to worry about. Not to mention my family. Everything is going to be affected by this.”

Peter nodded with a sad expression, “I get it. I guess I’ve just been a little… sheltered? From it. I mean I’ve been in the tower since the accident and I don’t really have any family to worry about except for you.”

Y/n pouted slightly, “that was really sweet Peter.” She huffed, “God, you make this so hard.”

Peter let out a small laugh, “I don’t know if I should take that as a compliment or not.”

Y/n sighed deeply and laid her head on his shoulder, “I guess… I guess I don’t really know what to do. I don’t want to leave you and I don’t want you to leave me. But… but- but this is a learning curve.”

Peter nodded, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and placing a small kiss into her hair before hugging her closer. “I understand. Don’t worry about it, as long as I can keep doing this for a while.”

Y/n smiled and nodded, pressing a light kiss to his exposed neck. “yes please.”

Peter ran a soothing hand up and down her arm, “why don’t we worry about this later. We’ll sit down, talk about it further, maybe talk to the others so they can help. We’ll figure it out.”

Y/n nodded, “That sounds like a smart idea. Why not now though?”

Peter reached for the remote, switching the channel and turning up the volume. “Because The Godfather is on and it’s one of my favorites.”

Y/n chuckled softly and cuddled closer as Peter relaxed even more. Her arms wrapped around his torso as she pulled her legs underneath her body. She was halfway draped across him and Peter couldn’t be happier.

“you’re a dork.” Her words were slightly muffled in his shirt, but Peter still caught them.

“but I’m your dork.”

“unfortunately.” The quip came back quick and easy causing a large smile to break over Peter’s face. Yeah maybe things were gonna change, but their love for each other would last. He could feel it.

Epilogue

taglist: @awkwardfangirl2014 @givinggoodvibes @unhealthyobsessionwithmarvel @booksbeforebois @magical-fandoms

#marvel #spiderman #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fanfic #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader fanfiction #peter parker x reader fanfic #peter parker x reader imagine #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel imagine #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman fanfic #spiderman imagine #tom holland #emma writes #masterlist input

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analisegrey · 6 years

Photo

For @badthingshappenbingo

This is the square I chose for myself: ‘Lost their voice from screaming’

A continuation of these two pieces from my Birthday Whump Bingo challenge:

Part I (breathing, slow and controlled) Part II (’help me get him up’)

They’d come.

Shiro had promised, after all. Lance’d had faith, and they all followed through. He’d known they would come, had no reason to think they wouldn’t. It had been hard to remember that though, when the Druid was-

No. Lance wasn’t going to think about that right now. Pidge was here, Hunk was on his way, and everything was going to be fine. They were getting him out.

Pidge had her arm over his shoulders, holding him close, and it hurt, all of him hurt, but he also didn’t want her to let go. He willfully ignored the tears he could feel falling, and she didn’t mention it, for which he was ridiculously thankful.

Lance tensed as there was a clattering out in the corridor, but then Hunk skidded into the cell, out of breath.

“You...you got him! Oh thank quiznack, buddy, hey, are you ok, you look awful.”

Pidge snorted a laugh as Hunk winced, and Lance huffed what would have been a laugh if he could talk. He raised a hand in a so-so gesture and shrugged, which made Hunk frown.

“What- why aren’t you talking? Pidge, why isn’t he talking?”

“Dunno, but we should go. Help me get him up.”

Hunk immediately came over and squatted down next to Lance, switching his bayard over to his right hand so he could get his left arm around Lance, under his arms. Hunk then stood up, taking Lance with him. Lance knew Hunk was strong, but he was always kind of in awe when he did the whole ‘casual display of buffness’ thing. His next thought was wow, being upright hurt.

All the bruises and claw marks across his skin pulled, some of them reopening, and Lance grimaced, hands tightening into fists.

“Aww, buddy, I’m sorry, but we’ve gotta move. You good to go, or do you need me to carry you?”

Lance opened his mouth and hissed quietly in frustration when he couldn’t easily respond. He wanted to be able to walk out of here on his own, or at least with Hunk’s help, but he knew they needed to be fast; he didn’t want to take any chances of them being caught. So he sighed, and moved his hands in a lifting gesture.

“Gotcha. Think you can handle a fireman’s carry? I wanna be able to still hold my bayard.”

Lance didn’t think any of the wounds on his front were really more than cosmetic. They’d hurt, but they wouldn’t make anything much worse than they already were. He nodded at Hunk, and Hunk knelt down to get a grip around Lance’s knees before hefting him up. Lance wheezed out a noise, but then tapped on Hunk’s shoulder, ‘ready to go’.

The trip back to the Yellow lion felt quick, but Lance wasn’t sure if that was because it was, or because he kept fading in and out of awareness on the way. Hunk set him down gently on the floor of the cockpit, frowning apologetically when Lance winced at the hard floor; he was glad to be out of the cell, but the floor of the Yellow lion wasn’t much more comfortable a surface to lie on.

“Sorry, we’ll be back at the Castle soon. Coran and the others will meet us in the hangar. We’ll get you fixed up in no time.”

Lance nodded, and closed his eyes. Now that the adrenaline of escape was starting to fade, he was really starting to notice how awful he felt. The last few days, or what he thought were days, had been rough. He’d managed to hold out against the Druid, but he thought that had more to do with the fact the Druid was called away early than any superhuman effort on his part. He knew if the Druid’d had an extra day or so, he wouldn’t have lasted. In the absence of the Druid, the remaining guards had done what they could to make him talk; they’d beaten him, went at him with claws, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been fed. He didn’t know what they would have come up with next, but he’s very glad he didn’t get the chance to find out.

The next thing he knew, they were landing, and just the thought of trying to get back up again exhausted him. He’s saved from the effort by Hunk, who scoops him up in his arms now that he doesn’t need to worry about his bayard. It’s a much more comfortable carry, and again, Lance was thankful for it.

Hunk carefully made his way down the ramp and out of his lion, careful not to knock Lance into anything. Coran was waiting with a floating bed from the infirmary, the others just beside him, and Coran sucked in a breath between his teeth.

“Oh, dear boy, look at you. Bring him here, Hunk. Gently, now.”

Hunk sets Lance down on the bed, and Lance sighs. This is the most comfortable he’s been since...well, a while, anyway.

“Alright, back up everyone, give us some room. I’ll take him down to get checked out, and you can see him in a bit. Go get cleaned up, and I’ll let you know when he’s ready for some company.”

When they hit the hallway, the other paladins split off to head to the showers while Coran carefully pushed the bed towards the infirmary. Lance noticed that Shiro had split off with them and was quietly following, though he was staying a few steps behind.

They reached the infirmary, and Coran guided the bed over towards a free docking station, locking it into place so it wouldn’t move. Shiro took a seat off to the side, still not saying anything, but Lance was thankful he was there.

“I’m going to run some scans before I do anything else. Is that alright?”

Lance nodded, trying to straighten out on the bed from the huddled curl he’d been in on the way here. They’d all been scanned before, since Coran wanted to have a baseline for all of them, and he knew he had to be laying out flat and still for the scanner to pick him up correctly. It took him a moment, and he was trembling after, but he managed.

The scans were quick, painless. Coran read the results, and hummed thoughtfully.

“There’s nothing critical, no permanent damage, though you might scar from some of the lacerations. It’s up to you whether you go in a pod or not, my boy. It would help you heal faster, the scarring would be minimal. All of this will resolve on its own if given the chance, though. It would take a movement or so for you to be back fighting fit. Which would you prefer?”

He knew he should pick the pod, to be ready to fight again sooner rather than later, to be ready to help as soon as he was able, but a deeper piece of him rebelled at that. He didn’t want to go into the pod. He wanted to be out here, safe, warm, around his friends who could reassure him he wasn’t back with the Galra, that everything was going to be ok. A curl of guilt rooted in his stomach. How could he be so selfish, though? What if they needed him and he wasn’t ready? What if there was an attack and he couldn’t fly yet?

He was pulled out of his internal debate by Shiro calling his name. When he looked over, Shiro was smiling gently at him. “If you don’t want to go into the pod, it’s ok. Don’t feel like you have to if you don’t want to. We’re heading to Olkarion for a few days to do some work on the Castle, so things should be quiet.”

Lance felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. That- that was good. He still felt a little guilty about it, but if Shiro said it was ok…

He looked back up at Coran who was watching him expectantly, and shook his head, mouthing, ‘no pod’.

“Alright then. What we’ll do is get you cleaned up and bandaged, maybe an ice pack for that eye, then you can finish getting cleaned up and changed back at your room, maybe get you something to eat.”

Lance let Coran cut away the rest of the upper half of his flight suit; most of it was beyond repair or missing anyway. Coran kept muttering angrily to himself as he worked, and Lance had to keep reminding himself Coran wasn’t angry at him, but at what had been done to him.

He hadn’t thought he could feel more tired and still be conscious, but that just went to show how much he knew. By the time Coran declared him good to go, Lance wasn’t sure how he was going to make it to his room, let alone anything else. He was lying down, and his arms and legs were still shaking.

He was saved from figuring it out by a warm hand on his shoulder. Shiro had wandered closer for the first time since they got to the infirmary, and was standing next to the bed. “I’ll help him to his room, Coran. Why don’t you go let the others know Lance will see them later.”

Soon it’s just the two of them and the quiet sounds of the machines in the room humming under their breathing.

“Do you need a minute?”

Lance shook his head, and deciding he couldn’t put it off any longer. Coran had cleaned his wounds, but he would possibly kill for a shower and a change of clothes. He tried pushing himself up to sitting and was annoyed when he barely managed. Shiro helped steady him, waiting patiently as Lance caught his breath. Lance nodded decisively, and pushed himself off the bed. Shiro’s reflexes and the strong arm around Lance’s waist were the only things that kept him from faceplanting onto the floor. He huffed in irritation and tried to get his legs to steady under him, willed them to keep him upright, if only barely. He half expected Shiro to just pick him up and carry him, but Shiro did no such thing. Instead, Shiro waited for Lance to decide what he wanted, patient as a stone.

“It’s ok, Lance. Once you’ve had the chance to eat something and rest, that’ll go a long way toward helping you feel better. Most of this is residual.”

And Shiro would know, wouldn’t he? Lance shuddered, realizing, and not for the first time, that Shiro was achingly familiar with what he was going through, had likely gone through it more than once himself, for much longer. As much pain as he’s currently in, thinking about that kind of stuff happening to Shiro hurt more.

“C’mon, if you can, put your arm around me; it’ll help with your balance.”

Lance was dismayed at the effort it took to lift his left arm, but he did manage to get it around Shiro’s waist.

“Alright, nice and slow. Let’s go.”

It felt like the longest walk of his life, getting from the infirmary to his room, and Lance almost gave in and asked Shiro to carry him a couple of times. But every time he needed to take a break, Shiro would ease them to a stop, help Lance lean on the wall, and waited until Lance was ready to move again. By the time they reached Lance’s room he was shaking like a leaf, sweat pouring off of him, and he was never more glad that Altean bandages were waterproof. Shiro helped him ease down to sit on the edge of his bed, and he silently sighed in relief. Beds were awesome. His bed was awesome. The most wonderful bed in the whole universe really. He was about to tip over sideways to fully enjoy the full squish power of his matress when Shiro clucked his tongue and caught carefully at Lance’s shoulders.

“Nope, can’t let you do that yet.”

Lance tried to whine, but nothing came out, so instead he just made the most pitiful pair of puppy eyes he could. Shiro snorted a laugh, but still didn’t let him fall over.

“Nuh-uh. I promise you it will be worth it. Just a little longer, you can take a shower, and put on clean pajamas, and then you can lay down while I get you something to eat. Besides, the warm water will help your strained muscles, I promise.”

Lance heaved a dramatic sigh, but nodded in resignation, letting Shiro help him get back up to wobble into the attached bathroom all the paladin’s bedrooms had. Lance had never been so grateful in his life that the shower stalls had a build-in bench, because while he appreciated everything Shiro was doing to help him, showering was not one of the things he was prepared to accept help with.

Shiro had grabbed spare clothes and a towel and set them on the shelf near the shower, and gave Lance a critical look.

“I’m going to wait out in your room. Obviously you can’t shout if you need anything, but I’ll be listening. Knock on the wall if you need any kind of help, or if you start to feel faint, ok?”

Lance nodded, and shut the bathroom door. It was the first time he’d been alone somewhere safe since before his capture. He turned on the shower, set it to his preferred temperature, stripped, and stepped under the water. The water pressure on the Castle was always amazing, and this time was no different. The spray hurt a little as it hit some of his bruises, but Shiro was right, the trade-off of delicious liquid warmth sluicing over him was totally worth it. He felt his shoulders lower, tension bleeding out, and next thing he knew he was crying, his tears mixing in with the shower water. Silent heaving sobs wracked through him, and god, what- he was safe, he was fine, he’d be ok in a few days and ready to jump back into the fray in a week, this was stupid. He scrubbed himself as best as he could, and turned off the water, breath still shuddering through him. He got out, sat on the closed toilet seat as he dried himself off and got the pajama bottoms on. He decided the top was too much trouble, and left it with the towel by the sink. Shiro was waiting just like he’d said, leaning back in Lance’s desk chair with his eyes closed and arms crossed over his chest. When he heard the bathroom door open, he cracked his eyes open and smiled at Lance.

“Hey, how’re you feeling?”

Lance opened his mouth, even though he knew full well he couldn’t say anything, but his breath hitched, and god, he’d thought he got all the crying over with in the shower, but it looked like he wasn’t done yet. He stumbled over to his bed and crumpled down onto it, curling in heaving ball, more tears wetting the comforter where he’d buried his face in it.

There was the sound of the desk chair moving, then the bed dipped next to him, and he felt the cool pads of metal fingertips against the skin of his back, gently rubbing up and down.

“Hey, you’re safe, you’re ok. Are you in any pain? Do you need a painkiller?”

Lance shook his head against the bed and managed to move enough that he was part-way in Shiro’s lap. Shiro went with it, carefully helping him settle and hugging Lance firmly.

“It’s a lot to process, huh? That sudden realization that you’re out, that they don’t have you anymore.” Shiro’s voice is quiet, the movement of his hand up and down Lance’s spine feels meditative and soothing. Lance nods against Shiro’s chest, breath still hitching. His throat aches, burns with all the words he can’t say, might not have been able to manage even if he had his voice, and he shakes with it; Shiro just holds on, murmuring soothing nonsense at him until he starts to calm. He wants to feel embarrassed about it, but he’s so far beyond drained and exhausted, he just doesn’t have the energy for it. Maybe he’ll feel it later, that he cried his eyes out while being held by his flight commander, but that was a problem for Later Lance; for now all he wanted was to rest.

“Do you want me to bring you some ice chips for your throat when I get your food?”

Lance glanced up at Shiro, eyebrow raised in question.

“Feel free to let me know if I’m wrong, but- they didn’t take your voice, you lost it, right?”

Lance nodded slowly.

“While you were with the Druid?”

Lance shuddered, curling forward slightly, but nods again. Shiro squeezes him before pushing away slightly so he can see Lance’s face.

“You know we’re proud of you, right?”

Lance looks up at him, incredulous.

“Druids are...a lot to deal with. For anyone, even at the best of times. But you fought. You fought hard and you survived, and held on until we could get to you. So yeah, we’re- no, I’m- proud of you. You did everything right.” Shiro pulls him in for another hug, this one a bit tighter. It hurts, but Lance can’t bring himself to care. Shiro’s eyes are bright and shinier than normal when he finally lets go. “I’m going to get you some of the soup I know Hunk’s been making, and some ice chips for you to suck on; I know they’re what I wanted. They should feel pretty good on your throat. We’ll start easy and if those are ok we can see what else Hunk can come up with. In the meantime, rest. I’ll try to keep the others at bay until at least after dinner. Call us if you need us, though, ok?”

Lance can already feel himself sliding toward sleep as he nods. He’s awake just long enough to feel Shiro give his shoulder a squeeze, before he slides into the blissful depths of sleep.

#badthingshappenbingo #fandom: voltron #prompt: lost their voice from screaming #voltron legendary defender #vld Lance #lance whump #vld Shiro #vld Coran #continuation

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