I Have No Idea What He's Saying But I Agree

He is everything to me. Everyone says: "thank you Amy"

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Crying rn 🤣😔

Steam III

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x f!reader

Genre: ATLA au, enemies(?) to lovers, forbidden romance, royalty au

General Warnings: violence (bending fights), injuries (mentions of broken bones, burns, blood, bruises), alcohol consumption, mentions of prostitutionSmut Warnings: multiple smut scenes, fingering, dry humping, slight exhibitionism, oral sex (f & m receiving), unprotected sex, handjob, hair pulling, marking, virgin!reader, wonwoo has a tiny bit of a corruption kink

Length: ~15.4k | Fic Length: ~64k

Credits: banner: @caelesjjk and @shadowkoo | betas: @tomodachiii @miniseokminnies @gyuswhore @haologram and @wqnwoos

Note: part 3 lets gooooo. crazy that this'll all be over soon. i hope yall enjoy the chaos and more shenanigans from two dumbies in love

summary: Wonwoo is the best fire bender in Capitol City. Or he is. But a water bender he's never seen before changes everything.

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |

m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

If you hadn’t respected your grandmother so much you would’ve killed her for throwing you to the wolves. It was the inevitable end to the week's festivities, finding a husband. But so far, none the men brought forth sparked any reaction other than disdain and disgust. 

You hated it. You hated them. You hated the entire ordeal of selling yourself off like a prized calf at auction, batting your eyelashes and giggling at unfunny jokes.

But it was your duty. Whether you liked it or not, it had to be done.

That fact repeated in your mind like a mantra as another suitor fumbled through a story about his opinions on nothing.

However, no matter how hard you tried to focus on the men in front of you, all you could think about was the one standing off to the side behind you.

Wonwoo hadn’t mentioned the books you gifted him the previous night; one as an apology for Maoki’s childish behavior, the other as a thank you for taking you to the Lower Block. There wasn’t much time for conversation between the fiasco of the talent show and the early morning appointment with your seamstress he was forced to wait outside of. Maybe after lunch you would have the opportunity. Your copy of The Pearls of Drak was better off with someone who could appreciate it, but the Poems of Stars was a spontaneous choice to throw in. 

That particular copy stayed by your side since childhood, filled with smudged annotations, tear stains and bleeding ink from spilled drinks. You knew the verses by heart yet returned back to it again and again. For some reason, you wanted Wonwoo to read it. More than just the poems, you wanted him to read your copy; see if he found the same meanings you did. If he shed tears at “The Moon’s Widow”, or laughed at the old man in “The Constable”, or if he found “The Belle Dame” as beautiful as you did.

“And Capital City is fine, but the country is where children should be raised. Where they can run and play and learn in the great outdoors. I love the outdoors. Earth beneath your feet…”

Your grandmother meant for it to be an informal tea party. Chatting with multiple men at a time; a convenient way to ease into the courting process considering there were so many suitors to consider, to call upon them individually would take weeks. But the men talked over one another or attempted to subtly block each other from your view so you were forced to receive them one at a time at a table in the corner, a long queue spiraling through the chamber.

You assured it moved rather swiftly.

Duke Zul continued to droll on about his disdain for the city and how the countryside was far superior in all merits. He was old. Too old. As if he was around to witness the mountains form and the oceans rise.

“My apologies, Your Grace.” You smiled; the perfect picture of a demure princess. “But we seem to be out of time.”

The duke blinked, shocked by the interruption. He probably forgot you were there considering you hadn’t spoken since he sat down. It was a nice break from repeating the same set of sentences over and over again like a parrot but it didn’t help the throbbing vein in your temple.

Unfortunately, the moment Zul abandoned his seat, someone else stepped forward to take it.

“Your Highness.” Jao bowed so deeply the hem of his coat swept against the marble floor. A ridiculous shade of green that would only look fashionable on him.

“My Lord,” you greeted in return. “Please sit.”

Flopping into the chair, Jao nibbled on the almond cookies spread on the table before scanning your figure boldly. “Forgive me for being so bold but, you look ravishing this morning.”

“How presumptuous,” you snickered. Jao sang like a dying bird but he always managed to make you laugh.

He picked a piece of lint off his shoulder. “I must say, I’m unimpressed by my competition. They all seem so…plain.”

Jao’s attendance was more for appearances than anything else. He was the spare and could do as he pleased, who he pleased; those who pleased him were decidedly male. Everyone knew it. But his family was powerful and no one made a peep when he demanded time with an old friend.

“Yes, it takes a man of character to wear orange trousers and a green shirt.” You hid your smile in a teacup. 

“I’ll have you know this is the style in the Earth Kingdom.”

“I was unaware the Earth Kingdom was so fond of circus clowns.”

Jao’s brow furrowed. “My brother has been on the throne for ten years and you didn’t know?”

“My deepest apologies.” You dunked one of the cookies in your own tea and bit off the corner.

“I’ll forgive you,” Jao said. “Now, how about we go down to the sages and get this entire ordeal over with? This hard to get game is starting to lose its charm.”

“I—“ you started.

“Your Highness,” Wonwoo interrupted, eyes trained suspiciously on Jao. “You have a meeting.”

“I do?” you asked, eyes wide. There were plenty of meetings happening but none required your presence. Your grandmother made sure of it.

Wonwoo nodded slowly, dragging his eyes away from Jao and setting them on you. “Yes. Now. With Minister Vasa.”

There was no Minister Vasa at the palace this week. There was no Minister Vasa in the history of the kingdom. What was Wonwoo doing?

“Right…Minister Vasa. Sorry, Jao, I must go.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” Jao nodded before leaning close, “When you're done with your guard, send him my way.”

“You are horrible,” you whispered.

“Horribly in love,” Jao sighed, snagging another cookie before skittering off.

The line of men groaned in objection as you passed but you ignored every single one of them, cooing empty pleasing words to soothe them. There were more important things to take care of. Like whatever game Wonwoo was playing at.

Out in the hallway, you rounded on him. “Is there a reason I have a meeting with Minister Vasa all of a sudden?”

He had the sense to look embarrassed and a little guilty; ears red, throating bobbing as he swallowed. You tried to object when he grabbed your elbow and steered you further down the hallway away from the room filled with eavesdropping lordlings.

Around the next corner, he finally released you and spoke. “You looked uncomfortable. I was trying to help.”

You blinked in shock. You hadn’t thought about Wonwoo paying attention during your meetings even with him a few feet away. The thoughts you had about his opinions were limited to his amusement at seeing you paraded around, the comments from royals with barely enough brain cells to function. You hadn’t considered he was watching you during the entire ordeal. 

You took a step closer, backing him towards the wall. “You think Jao made me uncomfortable?”

“He asked you to elope with him!” Wonwoo argued.

“Jao is a harmless flirt.” Another step forward, and Wonwoo’s back hit the wall. He didn’t seem to notice.

Wonwoo grumbled. “He didn’t seem harmless.”

You stepped closer, leaving barely an inch of space between you. “You don’t think I could handle Jao myself?”

Wonwoo seemed to finally realize the position he was in, eyes widening when your hands rested on his chest. “You’re right, he probably needed someone to protect him from you.”

“Oh, I’m just sooo terrifying, aren’t I?” Your eyes locked on his mouth. 

He dipped his head, lips brushing your ear as he spoke. “I heard you have a nasty habit of freezing men to walls.”

“Baseless rumors,” you said breathlessly, barely an inch away from kissing him.

Down the corridor, shoes shuffled along the floor, knocking you from whatever trace possessed you to kiss Wonwoo in the hallway where anyone could see. 

They were distant but gaining swiftly. Afraid it was someone coming to speak with you about how rude it was to leave your own party early, you searched for somewhere – anywhere – to hide. Luckily, you recognized the woodland tapestry on the far wall and pulled it aside, shoving Wonwoo behind it before joining him. He tried to speak but you silenced him with a finger against his mouth.

“Why are we in the dark?” Wonwoo whispered, lips dragging against your finger. The words tickled across your skin where you pressed together.

You shushed him, ears perked as the footsteps drew closer.

There wasn’t much space in the cubby to begin with and paired with his broad frame, you were close enough his chest brushed against yours with each inhale. Wonwoo eyes widening when you leaned a little closer; pressed a little firmer, crowded him against the wall with nowhere to retreat once more. He was so warm and solid, completely unlike your element. Intoxicating. Even with someone right outside, you couldn’t resist the urge to touch him. Your hand slid down to his chest and rested on the waistband of his pants.

No one expected you anywhere; you could easily raise on your toes to kiss him and nobody would have a clue; just like you wanted to before being interrupted by reality. You could drown in him, completely swept away while people shuffled right past the tapestry none the wiser. Only swollen lips and ruffled clothing to give you away.

He must have thought the same, eyes darting towards your mouth before he leaned closer…

Only to tuck his face in the crook of your neck and trace the curve with the tip of his nose.

Your fingers curled in his shirt as his breath puffed against your skin, a flare of goosebumps raising with a shiver. The click of footsteps passed and disappeared, but you remained tangled together in the dark.

“Thank you for the books, by the way,” Wonwoo whispered. 

“Did you have a chance to read some of it?”

“A few pages,” he sighed, hands flexed on the dip of your waist.

“Sorry Maoki ruined your copy.” Your own arms snaked around his shoulders, fingers toying with the hairs at the nape of his neck until Wonwoo shuddered. This close, you could feel the blood rushing in his veins, the throb of his pulse beating heavily. Like that night in the forest. “What did you think?”

“The Belle Dame seemed familiar…”

“How so?”

Before Wonwoo could answer, a new pair of footsteps echoed down the corridor. 

“I swear, I thought she went this way,” a squeaky male voice said.

You jolted back, the space between you and Wonwoo growing as you listened intently to the conversation clearly not meant for your ears. His leg still pressed between your legs and your hands bunched in his shirt but whatever haze filled the space evaporated.

Another deeper voice responded, “And what are you planning to do when you find her? Demand a private audience? I doubt she even knows your name.”

“I’ll have you know we spent yesterday afternoon in the gardens together. We would have had a lovely time if it wasn’t for her guard dog getting in the way.”

Maoki.

“She’s absolutely vile,” a new voice chimed. They all stopped right in front of the curtain where you were tangled with your guard dog in an incredibly compromising position. “If she wasn’t in line for the crown then no one would put up with it!”

“Even with the crown, she’s not worth the trouble,” said the deeper voice.

“I don’t know…” said Maoki. “There’s some satisfaction in taming a woman as head strong as her.”

“If she doesn’t bite your head off first.”

“Women like her just need the right man.”

You didn’t need to be tamed by anyone, let alone someone like Maoki. You moved to reveal yourself and remind him of that fact but Wonwoo stopped you with his hand on your elbow, the heat of his palm warming through the delicate fabric of your dress, his thumb rubbing small circles.

“I’ve never met such a beautiful woman with such an ugly disposition.”

When they moved on, you stayed rooted in place, flushed with embarrassment. It would have been one thing to hear their opinions of you alone but in the company of someone else the insults made you flush. Did Wonwoo agree? Were you the vile woman people only put up with because of the glittering crown atop your head? Because it was his job? Was his only motivation the fact you held his life in your hand?

“Are you okay?” Wonwoo asked.

The security of the dark, a safe place where dangerous thoughts existed in excess, vanished. He was too close. To you, to the truth, to melting the careful mask of regal indifference crafted from years in the court. You weren’t able to keep it in place as firmly with Wonwoo around and it was terrifying being so close without the armor of a crown. You were practically naked in front of him, only able to hide because he couldn’t see the pinch of your mouth.

You swallowed the embarrassment like thick medicine, healing the parts of you softened and hardening them back as they were. “I’m fine. I’ve heard worse.” 

Not wanting to look at him, you left the alcove and strode down the corridor back towards your apartment. You’d make up some excuse about needing your seamstress before the ball tonight or taking a nap to fill the afternoon, find something to read. Or maybe hide away in the bath until your fingers pruned. Whatever it took to avoid the pity in his eyes.

You didn’t need any excuse. The dress you originally planned to wear needed finishing alterations. Your seamstress Maya pinned and unpinned the hem of your gown dozens of times, hiding her exhaustion with your indecision under her breath. It was beautiful. The red fabric poured down your figure, clinging to every curve and the open back revealed just enough skin. No jewels or embroidery, just simple silk. Something felt missing but after the fifteenth attempt, you and Maya called a truce.

“A little bird told me you left your party early this afternoon,” Han said as she pinned a comb in your hair. 

Sami dabbed perfume around your neck. “With Won—”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You watched in the mirror as they exchanged a look over your head, thankful the other servants had dismissed themselves for the night already.

Han grabbed a delicate gold necklace from the stand on the counter and clasped it around your neck. “You like him.”

“Of course I do.”

It felt horrible and freeing to admit it. You spent the entire tea party imagining if it was him sitting across from you and not the others. Just you two. Alone. Talking about books, and his friends in the city. Exchanging stories from childhood. You wanted to know exactly how he got the silver scar at his brow. Share the time you and Mingyu tried to scale the garden walls and ended up with matching scars of your own on the center of your palm.

You liked Wonwoo so much, maybe even felt even more than that; but your feelings didn’t matter. He was who he was and you were what you were. 

Han plucked another pin from the velvet tray and pressed it into your hair. “Then what’s stopping you? You’re the princess. If you can’t be with whoever you love, then what hope is there for the rest of us.”

“I—“ you began to argue, eyes closing. The vein in your temple throbbed. 

“If you really wanted to be with him, you’d go to your grandmother and tell her,” Sami said.

“What if he doesn’t want me?”

Han looked to Sami with disbelief. “She’s joking.”

“The tournament is the day after tomorrow.”

“I know,” you said, focusing on your hands in your lap.

“Are you sure you don’t—”

“I want to get this over with. In silence. If you don’t mind.”

They wrapped up their work as you asked and left with a gentle squeeze on your shoulders. With no more reasonable delays, you exited your room and found Wonwoo sitting on one of the couches reading a book in a crisp black uniform.

He looked up as you approached, wide eyes skirting over your body. The book tumbled out of his hand and onto the cushion as he rose to his feet.

“You look—” he started softly.

Not wanting to hear whatever he had to say, you cut him off. “Let’s go. I don’t want to be late.”

The ballroom was packed. You smiled at the crowd even though your heart squeezed, mind replaying over what Wonwoo was going to say over and over again but the crowd inside the ballroom swallowed you whole; an easy distraction. Men and women introduced and reintroduced themselves; like packs of wolves in glittering gowns and fine suits, teeth gleaming in the light of the chandeliers. In the chaos, you forced yourself to concentrate on the years of court manners ingrained in your bones. You were an untouchable island and you would survive tonight and the day after. And when the week was done, you’d be married and whatever Wonwoo planned to say would be forgotten.

Music and laughter bounced off the walls, the dance floor a sea of jewels and colorful silks as couples twirled around. From the ceiling acrobats tangled themselves in silk ropes, flipping and twisting, unraveling just to climb back up and start again. Actors stood on pedestals, skin painted and wearing masks to resemble different spirits; they froze in place as partiers circled them. Through the massive windows of the far wall, you watched hundreds of lanterns float into the sky from the gardens.

One of your favorite festivals and the usual cheer felt impenetrable. If you couldn’t enjoy it, then you’d distract yourself from feeling anything at all.

You danced with every man who asked, successfully avoiding the edge of the dance floor where he waited next to your grandmother. The music swelled and faded over and over until their faces blurred together as you were led straight into the next song. You knew Wonwoo was watching. He was always watching, but you avoided his gaze even though it prickled across your skin. 

When the current dance ended, you curtsied to Kabaar who walked away with a disillusioned frown; most of the men you danced with did. What they anticipated, you didn’t know. You tried to smile and nod and flatter but insincerity rang clear.

The orchestra took a break, leaving you to hover awkwardly on the floor without a partner. Your feet were sore and your head hurt but there were few options to hide without the cover of music and dancing. A walk in the garden? Perfect place to be alone in the dark with Wonwoo. Sneak out the servant's entrance? Your grandmother would kill you. You could douse yourself in wine again but that left you back in your room with Wonwoo. The only option was to take your place on the dias next and rest your feet until another song started.

“How many more are left?” 

“Just two,” Lin said. “Gyan and Char.”

A servant walked passed with a tray of wine and your fingers itched to tip the entire thing over, give yourself a reason to leave early. You snagged a glass and downed it quickly before grabbing another. Your eyes rolled. “Wonderful.”

Lin opened her mouth, no doubt to chastise you for the vulgar display but Gyan materialized as if summoned, offering his hand. 

You turned, a smile plastered back in place. The wine already flushed through your veins. You finished your second cup before taking his hand and spinning back out to the floor.

The rosy glow from alcohol served little relief. Gyan jerked you around the floor, narrowly missing your feet with each step. “You are a lovely dancer, Your Highness. Like a deer.”

“Thank you,” you nodded, teeth clashing together as he pulled you roughly; completely ridiculous. In your tipsy haze, your self control slipped from its tight leash; on instinct, you looked at Wonwoo for the first time tonight. His eyes widened in shock before he schooled his features back to neutral. Then, when you didn’t rush to look away, he offered an awkward smile.

The first time you looked directly at him all night and it was just as dangerous as you knew it would be. 

Luckily, the music changed for the last dance and someone else appeared out of the crowd to distract you.

“Your Highness,” Char announced with a deep bow. “Please honor me with a dance.”

“Of course.” 

Char danced far better than Gyan. He whirled you around the dance floor with graceful expertise, none of the stomping of Gyan or loud chatter the other suitors maintained. The orchestra swelled to fill the silence lingering between you and Char as your mind wandered thousands of miles away.

You stumbled when Char broke the delicate silence. “Have you ever been in love, Your Highness?”

Over Char’s shoulder, you looked straight into a pair of brown eyes again. He seemed prepared this time. The room faded under Wonwoo’s gaze full of unspoken things, full of all the moments someone or something interrupted. A jolt rocketed down your spine. Did he like to dance? Did he know any of the court dances? His bending was graceful enough, he’d probably pick them up quick enough if you showed him. Would he hold you like Char now? Hands proper, high on your bare back just below your shoulder blades. Or would he keep you closer than necessary? Hold you close while spinning across the dance floor. And if he did, when you looked up and met his eyes, would he kiss you in front of everyone without a care in the world?

Char spun you away, breaking your staring contest. With your back to Wonwoo, you looked up at the man guiding you across the floor as he spoke again. They weren’t the rich brown you’d grown fond of. They were green and full of pity.

“With your blessing, I intend to compete in the tournament tomorrow and if I win I hope we could grow fond of each other. I think we both understand what it's like to be torn between our duty and our desires.”

“I—” you stuttered. “I would be honored, my lord.”

“I believe we must do the best for our nation, even if our hearts lie elsewhere.” he said, his voice soft, as though the words were almost for himself as much as for you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, voice quivering. Was it that obvious? 

Char looked unconvinced. “Then I apologize for misreading the situation.”

The waltz continued.

Wonwoo stood at attention next to the raised dais where your grandmother sat, her ladies floating around with their maddening laughter as you spun across the dance floor gracefully. Maoki had squeezed himself into the first dance, stumbling about the dance floor, struggling to keep up with your strides. It would have been comical if Wonwoo wasn’t focused on finding a way to kill him.

If she wasn’t in line for the crown then no one would put up with it!

The crown on your head was the least alluring thing about you. If anything, it was the most frustrating part and the entire reason Wonwoo warred inside his mind at all times about his feelings. 

There was so much more, so much you didn’t show the others but Wonwoo witnessed behind closed doors. You were funny, charming, stubborn, infuriating…

He couldn’t figure it out. One moment you were dragging him into dark corners, pressing yourself against him, trying to kiss him. And he wanted to do it. He would have if Maoki didn’t interrupt, spewing nonsense. But then the next you scurried away and ignored his existence. 

It was exasperating. The worst part is he didn’t know if he wanted you to stop. He wanted you. He wanted you in the garden when your lips curled into a frown as you read. He wanted you in the training pavilion when you launched a torrent of water at his head and laughed. He wanted you when you threatened a noble with a smile on your face. He wanted all of it; you in all your forms. He wanted you all the time. But he couldn’t have any of it. 

By the end of the week you’d have a husband and Wonwoo would be back in the barracks with nothing but memories to haunt him.

As every man but him took a turn guiding you across the floor, Wonwoo grew more restless. There were no knowing looks or silent jokes. There was nothing. You were completely absorbed in whatever they said, smiling and nodding along. But he saw the strain at the corner of your eyes, the muscles in your neck taunt and not from perfect posture.

And then, during Gyan’s turn, when he marched you around like the man had frogs in his pants, you looked at him and Wonwoo barely managed to catch himself from racing across the room and whisking you away to demand an explanation. He stayed rooted in place, watching as the music dissolved and the Queen announced her departure. You didn’t wait before leaving as well, striding out the open doors with Wonwoo struggling to follow. 

Servants trailed with him but Wonwoo ignored them. He spent enough nights listening to the prolonged routine of their fussing, this was no different. He fell into line next to them, eyes glued to the dip of your spine visible from the open back of your dress. His fingers flexed at his sides, itching to reach out and feel the heat of your skin against his palms.

Through the door from the sitting room to your bedchamber, he watched from the corner of his eye as they removed your outer robes and jewels before ushering you into the bathroom out of sight. The few servants left prepared your bed before funneling out until Wonwoo was left in stifling solitude with the weight of his feelings. 

He had no business being jealous and yet it squeezed his lungs until he couldn’t breathe. Seeing you bite your tongue pained him. Wonwoo wanted to hear whatever scathing comment bubbled on your tongue, sharing it like a secret only between the two of you. To see that careful wrangled control slip, unravel a shred of your facade to confirm you were still beneath it all. 

Most all, he wanted to wash away that lingering sadness clouding your eyes.

He couldn’t bear the thought of you upset, willing to do anything to fix it. 

He knew one way; a completely selfish, ludacris way to make you feel better. He paced his room like a caged lion as he turned the idea over and over; weighing the benefits and drawbacks. No matter how foolish it would be, the same point reared its head: you’d like it. It was stupid but before he could think more about it he was standing outside your door, hand raised to knock. Just as his knuckles met the hard wood, it shot open. 

“Oh!” you gasped, jumping back in surprise. “I was gonna call a servant for tea. Did you need something?”

Water from your bath clung to your hair, dampening the fabric of your nightgown and making the white fabric sheer around your collarbone. 

“No, I—” His tongue felt too big for his mouth. Like a little boy again gathering the courage to speak to his schoolyard crush, Wonwoo shuffled on his feet as you stared at him confused.

“You what?”

“Do you still have those servant clothes?”

There was a long pause before you nodded.

“Have you ever been to the festival in the city?”

You shook your head no. More beads dropped from your hair with the motion, sparking in the low candlelight as they fell before blotting your top. Wonwoo did not look. 

You weren’t wearing bindings beneath your nightgown. It made perfect sense but Wonwoo never thought about it before. He tried hard not to now.

“Do you want to?” he asked.

Whatever consequences conjured in his mind about sneaking you out of the palace dissolved as a beaming smile took over your face. He couldn’t help but smile too.

“Really?”

“Yeah, but we have to hurry or we’ll miss it.”

You whipped around, beeling for the gigantic bed in the center of your room. Wonwoo instinctively followed. You pulled a pile from beneath the mattress before looking back at him.

“Turn around,” you commanded.

Wonwoo did as asked but even though he couldn’t see you undress, he heard everything. The woosh of your nightgown hitting the floor, the sound of you shimmying the pants up your legs. Two times you’d been completely naked only a few feet from him and it drove him mad. He forced his body to remember why he was doing this; even if he wanted to crowd you down into the mattress and show you all the ways he was better. More giving, more devoted. Wonwoo was going to give you something those lordlings and princes never could: a real taste of the city.

It was easier to navigate the tunnels now that Wonwoo knew where they led. Emerald Park laid deserted and with the celebration at the palace still raging on, the Noble District was still. Wonwoo thanked the spirits for his months of mundane patrols, easily avoiding the footpath of guards as you followed close behind. This late at night most windows were dark and the ones that weren’t, framed people still partying and drinking, completely unaware of anyone sneaking past their door. 

It didn’t take long to reach Merchant’s Row where the streets were packed with more people than usual, most wearing colorful spirit masks and costumes for the occasion; giant paper puppets of spirits floated through the air, lanterns of all colors burning brightly as fireworks exploded overhead, the moon a bright backdrop to dazzling displays.

You fell into step next to Wonwoo, fingers tangled together to keep close. He tried not to think too much about it. 

“Why are they wearing masks?” you asked.

“Tradition.”

Wonwoo snagged two half masks from a merchant stall, a dragon for himself and a parrot for you. Your eyes crinkled as he pulled it over your head. This close he could count every single eyelash. He had the sudden urge to kiss you. Not the wanting kisses he’d come to expect with you. He wanted to kiss you, hold your hand, and just… be. Was he imagining you leaning closer or was he? Your eyes dropped to his mouth and then—

Someone barreled into him before he figured it out.

“Spirits, I’m so sorry!” the man slurred. “Wait, Wonwoo?”

Wonwoo turned to find Soonyoung staring at him with glazed eyes and ruddy cheeks stark against a green unagi mask pushed up on his head. Clearly, the man had started partying early like every year. Wonwoo smelled the reek of fire whisky and there was smudged lipstick hugging his collar. 

“I thought you were working at the palace?”

“Yeah, they, uhhh” Wonwoo panicked. “They gave me the night off.”

But Soonyoung didn’t care for his explanation, he was staring past Wonwoo and staring directly at you with wide eyes.

“Wait, you’re that girl from the warehouse,” he shook a hand in your direction, the bottle of firewhisky clutched in it spilling over. “I’m a huge fan.”

You looked unsure, passing a weary glance to Wonwoo and stepping closer. “Um, thank you?” 

“No, thank you. I haven’t seen Wonwoo get his ass handed to him like that since we were kids.”

“Well,” you smirked. “It wasn’t that hard.”

“Do you work at the palace too?”

Wonwoo felt you go rigid. “Something like that.”

Soonyoung leaned conspiratorially towards Wonwoo, whispering loud enough even people across the street could hear through the clamor,“I like her. Here, have this.” 

He forced the half-drank bottle into your hand. Wonwoo watched as you took a confident swing and immediately regretted it.

“This is disgusting!” you sputtered. 

“The more you drink the better it tastes! Nice to meet you!” Soonyoung called before the crowd swept him away.

With his friend gone, you turned back to Wonwoo, face twisted in disgust. “People drink this?” 

Wonwoo snatched the bottle and took a long swing, eyes set on yours. Your face glowed, sweat from every pore thanks to the heat of packed bodies; your lips still wet from the whiskey as your eyes trained on his tongue licking away a rogue drop at the corner of his mouth. 

It was you who broke first this time.

Wading further down the street, you staunchly ignored Wonwoo and combed through the wares of vendors. Talismans and scrolls of all kinds promising a safe winter crowded most tables, others presented jewelry and pottery, spices and cakes. The buzz of whiskey numbs his brain but not his skin. Your hand is still tangled with his as you tug him along. Wonwoo realized he doesn’t really mind shopping, at least with you. You don’t buy anything but you ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ over everything like you couldn’t have it all if you really wanted it.

The apothecary’s stall proved to be trouble.

Colorful vials and jars lined the table like neat rows of soldiers in different colors, all with various contents; some ingredients and some finished products. Most were unrecognizable to Wonwoo but he knew the one in your hand well enough.

“That’s not for you,” Wonwoo said as he plucked the vial from your hand and placed it back down, ears burning.

You immediately picked it back up and cradled it to your chest with a furious scowl. “How do you know?”

“It’s an aphrodisiac,” he said harshly. “Planning on seducing someone?”

You don’t need to, he thought. The bottle of fire whiskey in his hand became a dead weight instantly. He took about swig to distract himself as you scrambled to put the vial back.

“For a couple such as yourselves, I’d recommend this one.” The merchant, an old woman with deep wrinkles and silver eyes, lifted a similar vial filled with an inky blue liquid. “Just the thing to help the seed take.”

“The seed?”

Wonwoo pulled you away before she answered. He couldn’t do anything about the images in his head, they were there whether he liked it or not. You, him, back in your bed; so much naked skin; planted between your legs for hours until you both gasped for air. Where he could learn what every hitch of breath or tiny whimper meant, play with you until you're nothing but a soaked mess for him to clean up with his tongue. And only when you begged him for it would Wonwoo give you his cock. Again and again until the inferno inside him ceased.

You wouldn’t beg, though. He knows you wouldn’t because he wouldn’t be able to drag it out long enough that you’d have to. He’d give you everything, cave before you even thought to ask. 

“You don’t need to be such a brute,” you huffed and shrugged his hold off your arm. 

“She’s trying to sell you fertility potions!”

“So! It’s not like I was planning to buy it!” 

In Wonwoo’s head, he imagined the night much differently. Loose flashes of you laughing, gleefully enjoying the chaos of the holiday while he stood back and soaked the sound in. This was anything but that. He didn’t want to argue with you. He especially didn’t want to endure a hard on because of an argument with you; a fact he would never admit even under torture but there was something about the way the air crackled around you when you got fired up. But that hadn’t been the point of sneaking you out of the ivory palace walls.

He wanted a night where you weren’t a princess, and he wasn’t your guard; a night where you were just you, and the insurmountable mountain of reasons his fondness was dangerous didn’t threaten to drown him like a tsunami. Apparently the spirits didn’t agree.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’ll forgive you,” you sniffed. “If you show me where to get one of those things.”

Wonwoo followed your gaze to a group of kids stuffing their face with fried dough covered in powdered sugar. Luckily, he knew exactly where to get one but the velvet purple tent of a fortune teller lured you in.

You tugged at his sleeve, dragging him closer. “Come on, it’ll be fun!”

“She’s a hack,” Wonwoo snorted.

“What’d you say?” an older voice called through the opening. A woman came out of the darkness, hunched over with knobby fingers and thick dark hair with bolts of gray.

Wonwoo began to corral you away. “Nothing, ma’am. Have a good night.”

“Wait!” she croaked. Her face might have been aged but her silver eyes crackled with energy. “Madam Via sees the unseen, hears the unheard. Step inside and I can find the answers you seek. Or, perhaps, a glimpse of the future?”

Wonwoo shot a glance at your hopeful face before scrubbing a hand down his own and asking, “How much?”

“Three gold coins for her, five for you. I don’t like smart mouths.”

He kept his next remarks under his breath while handing over the coins.

“Come this way dear, I can tell you’re the more pleasant one.” Madam Via returned back inside the tent, leaving you and Wonwoo alone.

“Well, at least she has one thing right,” you snarked.

“I doubt she knows what happened in that greenhouse.”

You stuck your tongue out at him before disappearing behind the curtain.

Wonwoo didn’t like the idea of you going in alone. What if the fortune teller recognized you? As unlikely as it was, the idea made him uncomfortable. But he remembered that you were you and if anyone could handle themselves it was you. Your bite was far worse than your bark and Wonwoo trusted you to handle yourself should need arise. 

It hadn’t stopped him from trying to eavesdrop. 

But the thick purple walls of the tent trapped any noise from the inside. He rocked back and forth on his toes, the chatter of passersby filling the silence alongside the chimes of glass beads strung up around the tent. Having grown comfortable standing at your side at all times, to have you suddenly disappear felt like half of him was absent.

He counted the number of beads in the curtain covering the entrance, traced the golden embroidery of the tent walls until his eyes returned to their starting point. He finished off the bottle of fire whiskey and the weight on his shoulders lightened as his thoughts turned hazy. 

You barrelled out of the tent with an impatient tuff before masking your features. Whatever Madam Via told you, you hadn’t liked it. Your mask was gone and Wonwoo pulled his off too, suddenly feeling silly.

“What did she tell you?”

“Don’t make unnecessary journeys. Oh, and to avoid Komodo Shrimp for the next few days.”

Wonwoo scrunched his nose. “Why?”

“Probably because they aren’t in season. I don’t know!” Your eyes rolled. “She said to send you in.”

Wonwoo shook his head. “I’m not going in there.”

“Awww, big scary Wonwoo afraid of a little old lady,” you teased.

He sighed, knowing there was no way to get out of it. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll stay right here.” He ducked inside.

“Welcome,” Madam Via greeted from her seat at a round table covered with a dark cloth, its surface cluttered with cards and brilliantly colored crystals he’d never seen before; a clear crystal ball sat in the center.

The smell of incense strangled the air, smoke curling towards the ceiling. Inside the tent, low candles illuminated the space in a warm glow, the walls covered in tapestries of different colors and images. It made him feel claustrophobic.

“Sit down, you’re letting all the cold air in.”

Wonwoo mumbled an apology and sat on a cushion across from her.

Madam Via produced a ceramic teapot and pushed it into his hands. “Warm this.”

He didn’t think to ask how she knew he was a firebender. The teapot was cool in his hands but Wonwoo slowly pushed heat into it until steam started curling from the spout. The old woman used the time to spoon dried leaves out of different containers into matching cups and set them in front of him.

“Now, pour the tea.”

“I thought I was here to get my fortune read, not for a tea ceremony,” he quipped.

“I like your girlfriend so I’ll let that one slide but next stupid question and I’ll put a curse on you.” She shook a knobby finger at him. “Now drink your tea.”

Wonwoo wanted to argue but thought better of it. The tea tasted earthy, notes of jasmine and rose bloomed on his taste buds. He finished it quickly, barely allowing it to linger on his tongue before swallowing the last mouthful.

Madam Via snatched the cup from his hands and examined the contents. “Well, isn’t that interesting.”

“What?” Wonwoo tried looking into the cup.

“Reading the leaves is an art. Look at the sides of the cup, what do you see?”

The leaves stuck in odd patterns around the rim and walls of the porcelain. The top formed a clear ring but the sides seemed like nothing more than tangled threads. At the bottom the sediment from the leaves resembled a deformed blob. None of it meant much to him.

“I see…a dirty tea cup.”

“What that girl sees in you,” the fortune teller mumbled under her breath. “Look, there. The leaves form a heart at the bottom.”

“That's a blob,” he said.

This time she swatted him with a fan.

“Fine! It’s a heart. What's the big deal?”

Madan Via swatted him again before explaining. “Hearts mean love and relationships. With the knots on the sides it could be conflict. A crossroads…maybe. A path split in two, but you are caught at the intersection, unable to move in either direction. Any recent trouble with your girlfriend?”

Wonwoo’s ears burned red and he mumbled, “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“You love her, she clearly loves you. I’m not sure it’s as complicated as you think.”

“I didn’t say anything about lov—“

“It radiates off you both like the stench of the western harbor. A blind man could see it.” Madam Via rolled her eyes like the idea exhausted her. “I won’t pretend to understand whatever reasons you have for not being with her but what I do understand is you don’t meet a woman like her every century.”

Wonwoo knew she was right but he didn't feel like giving her the satisfaction of agreeing.

“Now, see how some of the leaves form a circle at the rim? It indicates a happy union is on the horizon. So maybe if you had any sense you’d find a way to make things work.”

Yeah, right. Anger burned in his chest. This lady clearly prayed on the hopeless, selling promises of futures with no possibility of coming true. A happy union? In what world would he be allowed to marry you? He’d have better luck airbending than changing the way the world worked. Maybe if you both ran away and started over, became the couple that existed here in the Middle District away from expectations. But how long would that last? You’d never agree anyway; and he didn’t want you to. If he had you, it’d be nothing less than all of you. Crown included.

Wonwoo didn’t say anything.

“Anyway, the future’s a mess. You’ll figure it out, or you won’t. Kiss the pretty girl you love or don’t.” She shrugged. “Doesn’t matter to me.”

Wonwoo shook his head, shifting on the cushion. “Are we done here?”

Madam Via’s eyes rolled for the umpteenth time and took a sip of her own suddenly steaming tea. “She asked about you.”

That kept Wonwoo in place. “She did?”

“Of course she did.”

“Whatd she ask?”

“I’m not a charity,” she sniffed. “For two more gold I’ll tell you.”

Crazy old snit. Wonwoo rolled to his feet and ducked out of the tent without looking back. 

Of course, you were gone. It really shouldn’t surprise him.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he seethed. He shouldn’t have been that angry; not after spotting you barely a few steps away watching the other festival goers dance but Madam Via’s words wove a cord of frustration deep inside him and it boiled into hot vexation. A muscle jumped in his jaw as he clenched it shut.

You took one look at his face and laughed. “Who ruffled your feathers?”

“You were supposed to wait outside the tent.”

“I’m maybe ten feet away. Is it that big of a deal?”

“What if you got lost? Do you know how to get home?”

“I’d figure it out.”

“Before or after getting in trouble with the guards? Again.” Wonwoo burst out, unable to contain himself.

To your credit, you didn’t stomp your foot like he knew you’d like to. Instead, you iced him out completely and focused back on the people skipping around the plaza to the rapid drumbeat.

Happy union my ass.

He hadn’t enjoyed watching from the sidelines as other men led you around the room earlier. He hated it. Especially when Gyan stomped you around the room like an idiot. He hated that he took so much notice of the fact you pointedly refused to look at him until that point, and then again when Char spun you around the dance floor. As much as he didn’t want to dance now, Wonwoo knew this might be the only chance he’d get.

“Do you… do you want to dance?”

“Are you going to yell at me again?”

Wonwoo shook his head and proceeded to forget everything but relief as you took his hand. The bad mood woven into his veins by the fortune teller fell away, flooded with content to replace it. He spun you around and around to the beat of the drums, time fading until it was just you two and the world outside blurred. This was what he wanted; to be the only two people in the world. Together. 

The next dance involved lots of spins and lifts. As with most peasant dances, partners passed around before coming back and each time you turned away from him, Wonwoo’s heart zapped with something as you came back, beaming from ear to ear. 

He decided he’d dance until his legs stopped working if that smile was a reward.

The music swelled, drums and claps increasing in tempo. On the next pass, Wonwoo snagged you around the waist and pulled you into his chest. Whether it was the fire whiskey or all the spinning that made him dizzy, Wonwoo didn’t know; but it didn’t matter when he bent down and kissed your cheek – a fleeting touch of lips against your skin. It wasn’t anything grand, but as soon as he pulled back, you both froze and his face flushed.

“I—” he faltered. There was no explanation strong enough for why he did it. 

Then you rolled up on your toes and kissed him with unmistakable certainty, right there on the outskirts of the makeshift dance floor, not a care who saw. Your mouths fit together like puzzle pieces, your hands wrapped around his neck keeping him close like he’d consider pushing you away. Wonwoo pulled you closer to banish the thought. He didn’t want the heat of pressing you into a wall where no one could see. He wanted the comfort of kissing you out in the open, like any other man in love was allowed to.

Love.

A deafen clap of thunder roared from the sky forced you two apart. Wonwoo jerked back and blinked wildly, pulling you closer in confusion. Something wet hit his face and then again and again as the clouds opened and released thick curtains of rain that soaked you both to the bone in seconds.

Wonwoo grabbed your hand and pulled you through the streets, back towards the palace. The roads cleared thanks to the storm sending everyone inside for cover. He dodged around corners but no one paid attention to a pair of young people running home from a typhoon.

The Noble’s Quarter was dark and Wonwoo knew the guards on patrol would be waiting out the storm at the watch station, waiting for the change in shifts given the late hour. He barreled through the streets with you in tow. Lightning illuminated the streets through the thick sheets of rain but it was muscle memory that guided him back to the statue in the park. He pried open the inconspicuous opening and descended inside, waiting at the bottom for you to join.

One second he was watching you descend the ladder, next he was on his back, cushioning your fall.

“Wonwoo! Are you okay?”

He coughed from your elbow plowed into his stomach.. “What the hell—“

You scrambled up right, sitting on his stomach as your hands caressed his skin, looking for damage. “I’m so sorry! I saw a guard and—“

The rain had matted your hair down to your skull, clung to your lips. He swallowed. Rain rushed outside, a dull hum to match the ring in his ears. You drew water from his hair and he felt the sore spot at the back of his head warmed as you healed the worst of the damage. Wonwoo tried very hard to keep his hands on your waist and not slide them up, pull you down, and kiss you breathless. Your hands traveled down his neck, ghosted over his jaw and made him shiver.

There was a shout from above and you sat up straight, eyes wide.

“We need to get back.”

You both took off down the tunnels, feet pounding against the ground and breath panting loudly. Finally, the familiar passage outside your office rushed up. But you took a last minute turn to a new door Wonwoo had never seen before.

It led to your bedroom.

You waltzed ahead, shrugging off your tunic and stripping to your bindings without a care. Wonwoo had seen you in far less but it didn’t make the roar in his ears any less demanding despite the pain in his back demanding attention. You tossed your clothes back under your bed and turned to him, guiding him to sit while he tried to stare at anything other than the press of your breasts against the silk.

“Does this hurt?” you asked, fingers prodding the tender flesh of his back.

He’d certainly bruise come morning, some lingering soreness if he was lucky. Wonwoo couldn’t find much reason to care about it. Fatigue already blurred the corners of his vision. It’d been such a long night already. If his options were staying awake to find a healer down in the infirmary or going to bed and dealing with the consequences later, he’d trudge down to his room and see to it first thing in the morning. He’d tally it along with all the other wounds he found himself collecting in your presence. “I’m fine.”

“Let me help.”

In the end it was the softness in your eyes that made him acquiesce. In the dark, with the candles and lamps extinguished, the worries that kept him grounded floated away. The rain pounding against the windows lulled his heart. He always slept best when it rained. You disappeared into the bathroom and came back with a pitcher of water.

“Take your shirt off.”

Wonwoo spurted, suddenly completely awake. That was out of the question.

“I can’t heal you through your clothes,” you huffed. 

He swallowed again, remembering the last time you healed him in the field. But this time would be different. He’d let you heal him, maybe kiss you again, and then he’d go to his room down the hall – alone – and pretend it was your hands touching him until he came and fell asleep.

He tugged the soaked shirt over head and closed his eyes.

If he was of sound mind, then the severity of the situation would have him rushing to flee. Alone with the princess, in her bed, with his shirt off and your own clothes crumbled on the floor painted a damning picture. But only the cool relief of the healing water dragged across his spine registered; knotted muscles relaxed, the sting of raw skin dulled and then disappeared under the gentle passes. His eyes closed before leaning forward to give you as much room as possible to continue the hypnotizing pattern.

“Better?” 

You snickered at Wonwoo’s grunt of approval before continuing.

“You’re so tense.” Your palms dug into his shoulders with more force. No longer were they hovering over the skin, now the water provided a wet glide as you massaged the knotted muscles into submission.  

A groan of relief clawed its way out before Wonwoo could swallow it back down. “I’m in charge of a princess that refuses to stay out of trouble.”

“She sounds awful.”

Wonwoo peered over his shoulder to find you focused on healing a cut on his upper arm, a pleased smile spread across your face as the skin knit together in a faint pink line. “She’s not so bad.”

His early arousal stirred just out of reach, stoked into an ember from the fan of your breath against the short hairs at the base of his skull. If he leaned back he would feel your breasts pressed against him, your lips in reach. He wanted to, he really really wanted to. He almost did when you pressed your mouth to his shoulder.

But you pulled away and the cold that rushed into the empty space brought the tiredness he’d ignored all night forward. He could feel the sun just below the horizon; dawn wouldn’t be far off, promising another full day as minder to your meetings and tea parties, listening to entitled nobles fawn over themselves.

Exhausted, Wonwoo slumped forward.

He’d move to the sitting room. All he needed was a minute to find the energy…

You woke shivering. Stripped down to nothing but your under bindings, you tugged the covers tighter, soaking in the pleasant warmth radiating across your back; pushing back into it for more. The sun barely peeked over the horizon, the corners of your room stained dark.

A warm breeze tickled across your shoulder. Odd. Perhaps you forgot to shut the window last night before bed.

It's then you registered a weight across your waist and a rhythmic press against your back in time with that comforting gust of hot, humid air. Consciousness flooded in with each grating moment; until you were awake enough to slap behind you, making contact with something fuzzy and hard. 

A masculine grunt responded, accompanied by a tight squeeze of the arm across your waist, dragging you closer.

Wonwoo.

He nuzzled further into your neck with a sleepy sigh, shifting his leg until his knee pressed between your own.

You considered slapping him again; however, the weariness of last night is too much to overcome for another swing. The consequences of him spending a night in your bed seemed so small next to the relief of his body heat against the cold. Wasn’t his job to protect you? Your greatest threat since he came to the palace was only the lingering cold you felt when he wasn’t around.

You remembered what the fortune teller said last night. 

“Oh dear, Temperance in reverse,” the woman tsk’ed. Her tent was thick with smoky incense, candles burning low to cast the room in shadow.

You eyed the upside down illustration. “What does it mean?”

“Imbalance, struggle, strife. Being pulled in a hundred different directions. There’s conflict between what you want and what you think you can have.”

You can say that again, you thought.

“Maybe something to do with the young man outside?” she continued with an inquisitive brow.

You refused to respond and pulled another card from the spread, laying it next to the first one. A couple wrapped in a warm embrace stared back at you.

“Well, there you have it.”

“Have what exactly?”

“The Lovers. You might be used to making decisions from the head, but you must embrace what your heart wants. A powerful relationship can make the conflict Temperance warns of clearer. Or maybe the relationship itself is causing you confusion.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” 

“And why not? He’s easy enough on the eyes despite the attitude.”

“It's not…there’s nothing going on between us. He wouldn’t—and I can’t—“ you stammered.

“What does your heart want? Think about that and pick the next card.”

Your fingers brushed over the deck, itching to pinch one of the gilded edges and pull it out. You picked the bottom card and laid it down on the table.

“Oh, this is just too easy. The Two of Cups. Embrace your heart. Even if it seems impossible, maybe you’re making things overly complicated.”

It is impossible! you wanted to scream.

As if Madam Via heard your thoughts, her face softened a fraction. “Listen, life is too short not to take advantage of good things. You say it’s complicated? Maybe it is.”

“So what do I do?”

“You do what every person who has ever been in love does: enjoy it while you have it and worry about the future later.”

Worry about the future later…

Maybe the crazy old woman was right. For once in your life, you wanted to enjoy things for what they were in the moment. Like in the warehouse, or against the wall at the market, in the field, in the bath, in the alcove yesterday. Like last night when you danced with Wonwoo and no one cared, not a single soul paid you two attention and he kissed you so infuriatingly close to your mouth before acting like he hadn’t. And when you kissed him after because if he was going to kiss you he needed to do it right. You wanted simple and what you had right now was as simple as it got. Wonwoo asleep in your bed. Wonwoo’s arm tight around your waist. Wonwoo’s cock heavy against the curve of your ass.

There wasn’t anything more simple than stretching against the length of his body, pleased that the tantalizing firmness greeted you with a stretch of his own. Your thighs squeezed on instinct.

You’d seen plenty of men shirtless, through training or tutoring sessions with healers. But seeing men half dressed and feeling the defined muscles so intimately against your back were very different. 

You rolled over to face him, buried your nose against the soft divot of his collarbone and breathed. Sleep tried to claim you again with the gentle rise and fall of his chest but Wonwoo didn’t let you. He was too tempting. Smooth warm skin, soft stomach your nails trace over mindlessly, his own slow breath ghosting against your forehead. You wanted to wrap yourself in him like a blanket and spend the day tucked away. Simple.

The hand around your waist tightened again as you brushed a kiss against his throat. You wanted to kiss him again like last night, when no one was around to offer reminders of how bad an idea it was. Somehow, you knew if you spoke the entire illusion would shatter. All those expectations would rush in; the reasons you shouldn’t want Wonwoo the infuriating way you did – can’t want him. So you didn’t speak. Instead, you feathered more teasing kisses across his shoulder, up his neck, and then a final one on his lips.

Take advantage of the good things. Like how Wonwoo’s hand skated up your back, the pleased groan in response to your nails digging into the crease of his hip bone.

He kissed back, slowly at first, dry chaste passes of his mouth across yours. The kind of kisses you could wake up to every morning without complaint; the inferno of previous encounters completely dormant. You didn’t think about anything else, only the easy way he rolled on top of you for the sake of kissing; tangled your fingers between his own and pressed you further into the mattress. The morning stubble on his chin scratched teasingly along your skin. Your hands acted on their own, cascading down his sides and across his back. The band of his pants brushed the tips of your fingers and you pushed beneath to find more intoxicating heat his body provides.

It was like that for a long time, returning the lazy kisses on your cheeks and chin, nose following the curve of your jaw. But then your legs spread to better accommodate his weight and he was there. The contact stoked you out of sleepy bliss, igniting desperate want. Your hips couldn’t help but curl up slowly, rocking against the length of him pressed right against your bindings.

A million reasons not to do it clouded the air but there was one good reason: you wanted to. And Wonwoo obviously wanted to. What you two did away from prying eyes was a secret you could live with if it meant you got to have at least some part of him.

Wonwoo rolled agonizingly slow between your legs. Each thrust of his sheathed cock pushed tiny mewls from your lips as his trailed further down your neck. He kissed everything he could; the sensitive skin beneath your jaw, the hollow of your throat, down to the seam of your bindings. All while his hands warmed your skin.

He tugged at the knot of your bindings until the silk strips slackened; tracing every newly bare strip of skin with his tongue as you arched and pushed more of your chest into his mouth. 

“Please,” you sighed. You free hand knotted in his hair to give a deliberate tug. “Please.”

Each kiss across your chest and stomach only pushed you closer to the edge of insanity. You coaxed a hand between your legs for the smallest bit of relief, but Wonwoo was already there. He tugged at the small knot keeping the fabric secure until they loosened and then there was nothing between your bodies; you sprawled beneath him completely naked and exposed in the cold sunlight. He mouthed across your thighs, stubble leaving you raw for his tongue to sooth away.

This must be exactly what the maids giggled about over your head. It didn’t seem so funny now that you had it for yourself; the need for him urging you to claw out of your own skin. 

You whined and squirmed under the first tender push of his fingers, parting you for his tongue that followed soon after. The sensation was wholly new and unlike anything you’d felt before. Nothing, not the things you’ve done to yourself or the memorable way Wonwoo fingered you the first time compared to the sweltering glide of his tongue.

“Wonu,” you gasped.

It must be the validation he needed because timid licks became heavy laps across your clit and sucked with enough force you jolted from the bed. Your hips rolled into the intoxicating friction. If you were frustrated before by the incomparable satisfaction of his fingers then this is a whole new level you’d never find again; completely addicting.

He flicked his tongue, fingers curved deep along your inner walls. You were so wet. So embarrassingly wet you’d blush about it if you had the brain power to even consider caring. Wonwoo made sure you didn’t, heady grunts of his own muffled in your core as his hips flexed down into the mattress.

You writhed for it, sweat beading along your skin as instinct took over and every twist of his tongue was met with a grind of your hips along it. Another drag of his mouth and your jaw clenched, legs kicking in an attempt to scramble away but Wonwoo pulled you to him — further down the sheets  — and smothered himself between your legs; rewarding your dry moan with the stretch of another finger. Your eyes went fuzzy but you keep them open because he’s not wearing a shirt and the muscles roping along his spine are too mouth watering to look away.

Fingers itching for something to ground onto, your nails raked through his hair, over his bare shoulders until faint pink lines criss-crossed over pale skin. He moaned again, humped the bed in search for his own pleasure and you sat up on your elbows to watch. 

It's all too much. The first wave drowned you. A squeeze along his fingers, and your hips rocketed off the bed; chasing the rough suck of his lips on your clit. You chanted his name, or something like it, until branded your tongue.

And then it was over. The comedown fizzled through your veins, muscles pliant as they twitched with aftershocks. You didn't — couldn’t — think of anything other than the dull throb and the terrible emptiness inside you as he removed his hand.

Wonwoo peppered more kisses along your stomach and thighs, slow and lingering as you caught your breath.

You pulled at his hair until his face was level enough to kiss, your tongue snaking along his lower lip until he opened his mouth, the taste of yourself evident but not undeterred. He kissed back eagerly as if suddenly you both were more awake. 

Your hand curled into his pants and swallowed a hiss of pleasure as you stroked his cock. You wondered how he would taste, if there was enough time before your maids arrived to kneel between his legs and make him shake and beg like you had; if he’d take the time to teach you exactly how to make him come and let you practice again and again until you were both satisfied.

A prod at his chest with your free hand had him rolling over, lap the perfect seat for you to command him however you saw fit. You kept him locked in a kiss, panting and whining into it as two sets of hands forced his pants down his thighs. He sucked a nipple between his teeth, rougher than before, like he couldn’t get enough of anything. You weren’t any better; jerking him off, grinding against the flexed muscles of his thigh. Wonwoo’s hand cupped yours around his cock, squeezing your grip until it tightened like a vice and fucked himself through it; his stomach collapsed from a sharp gasp.

He was so close, a vision of messy black hair and flushed cheeks beneath you, chest glowing with sweat. An arch of your hips was all it’d take for him to be inside you, filling you, driving away that aching need he’d left since that first night you kissed him. You dove down and lapped at the tender dip of his neck to distract from the foolish idea. 

Your name cracked from his lips, voice low and almost pleading. You were back beneath him in a flash; hands fisted in the sheets as he parted your legs and hooked them around his waist. His cock dug into the softness of your stomach before he moved lower, until the tip nudged your entrance, just breaching as you shifted up to search for more and then…

A sharp rapt at the door shattered the silence, followed by Han’s voice. “Your Highness!”

Wonwoo popped up over you, eyes wide in shock like he hadn’t realized exactly what you both were doing. You shoved him off and rolled from the bed.

“Put your clothes on!” you whispered, words like acid on your tongue. Truly, the last thing you wanted him to do was redress and face the day. You’d much prefer stripping the rest of him and spending the entire day in bed with Wonwoo between your thighs.

However, want as you might, having him in your room was threat enough to both of your reputations, nevermind that you spent the night with him; let him touch without a single protest in ways no one ever had. Almost let him have everything.

Lunging for your robe, you managed to cover enough to avoid suspicion of having Wonwoo in your room. Alone.

You answered the door with too much enthusiasm.

“Your Highness! Wonwoo is—in here?” Han peered over your shoulder to where Wonwoo stood by the window – thankfully – fully dressed. Only the mess of his hair gave inkling to what happened only moments prior, your core still tingled with after effects.

“Yes! Yes, he was helping me with a, um…”

“A bird,” Wonwoo nodded.

“Yes, I slept with the windows open last night to watch the fireworks and woke up to a bird…”

“A big bird!”

“Huge!” you exclaim. “And Wonwoo helped me…get the bird out.”

“Hopefully the poor thing is alright,” Han tutted, approaching the window to look for the imaginary bird she’d never find. 

“It flew right out, perfectly fine,” he rushed to explain.

Han’s shoulders sagged an inch in relief. Apparently, that was enough for her to drop the entire issue of Wonwoo being in your room. “Would Your Majesty like for me to draw a bath? Such stress so early will not serve you well for your meetings.”

“That would be wonderful, Han.”

Wonwoo stood cemented in place as Han disappeared into the bathroom. 

“Shouldn’t you…”

“Right, yeah,” he nodded before striding out the door.

The door to your suite clicked shut with Wonwoo’s departure. Immediately you collapsed into the bed once again, batting away the comforting warmth still lingering from entangled bodies. The pillow you landed face first in still smells like Wonwoo. Like the rain from last night, the powdery smoke that always lingered around him, and the cling of soap. Without thought, you inhaled until your lungs stretched uncomfortably.

So preoccupied, you didn’t hear the pitter patter of Han’s slippers until she stopped at the foot of the bed with a wicked gleam in her eye..

“It was huge, huh?”

“Shut up.”

Out in the seating room, Wonwoo forces his thoughts to the most unpleasant ones he can think of. Hoshi’s sweaty socks, the burn of a thousand fire push ups, freezing showers in the barracks…

He knew it was a bad idea. You had to know it was a bad idea too.

Mingyu lent against the fair wall outside Wonwoo’s room, shaking his head.

“A bird? Really?”

“Shut up,” Wonwoo growled.

“I don’t even need earthbending to tell you're a shit liar. You’re lucky I sent Han in there and not the more chatty servants.”

Wonwoo’s face burned. “I’m not lying.”

“Your shirt is on backwards.”

Wonwoo whipped his head down. His shirt was buttoned and proper but the fact he looked is incriminating enough.

“Whatever you two are not doing, I recommend really not doing it because she’s going to marry one of those princes and next time it might not be someone as gullible as Han who catches you.”

“We weren—”

“Those councilmen are looking for any reason to challenge the line of succession. If it looks like YN can’t control herself – like she let a man below her station compromise her – then her marriage prospects go down. Way down. As in not getting married.”

Mingyu was right. Sneaking you out last night was a risk. A risk he’d been willing to take at the time but a risk nonetheless. But what happened this morning was dangerous, to you, to him. If Han hadn’t interrupted, what would be happening right now? Would you be welcoming Wonwoo between your legs? He’d gotten carried away, forgotten the expectations you carried and why feeling you around him was a horrible idea. And if Han hadn’t knocked? If she stumbled in like a servant was meant to, then what? 

Would she simply have turned a blind eye to her sovereign welcoming her guard between her legs like an eager lover? 

“The Queen invited you for an audience this morning. Wash up and get dressed. You stink.”

“Did she say why?”

“Yeah, I ask her to explain every decision she makes.” Mingyu rolled his eyes. “Be ready in an hour. One of the maids will get you.”

“What about—”

“I’m on babysitting duty today.”

Mingyu left his room and Wonwoo contemplated drowning himself in the bath. 

If the Queen knew what he’d been up to then she had endless ways to ruin his life. His mind wandered wild through the possibilities as he washed up. It seemed no matter how hard he scrubbed his face, your scent and taste clung to his senses; the sweet sound of your voice gasping his name, the wet heat of you on his cock. 

Even the degenerate acts of the morning hadn’t outweighed the comfort of waking up with you in his arms, the gentle kisses across his chest that nearly convinced him he was still dreaming. Anything after that was beyond the realm of reality as far as he was concerned. 

Whatever the Queen knew, or suspected, Wonwoo decided what he had with you was worth the risk. He enjoyed the time he was privileged enough to be granted, the short opportunity to love you and be your friend. Now he’d have to pay up. And if the cost was his life, so be it.

Wonwoo liked rules. The palace was full of them, some more exasperating than others but they kept him from losing his mind trying to figure out how to act. 

Rule one: under no circumstances was it okay to touch the princess.

Rule two: do not speak unless spoken to.

Wonwoo at least had a chance to abide by the second one. Maybe it would earn him clemency for breaking the first one so recklessly.

“Captain Jeon, sit please.”

The Queen perched on a cushion in the center of the Azure Chamber. Candles and lanterns kept the space warm from the storm raging against the windows, fighting to break in. Even the deafening thunder is nothing compared to the crash of his pulse flooding his ears. There were no servants along the walls or bustling back from the table to serve the queen. She was utterly alone and Wonwoo remembered how you cornered Galin the same way.

Spirits help him.

Wonwoo sunk to the cushion across from her, stomach sinking deeper into the floor. He folded his hands in his lap, head bowed. It was easier to maintain bravado in the privacy of his room. In front of her, he felt like a scolded child waiting for judgment. 

“Tea?”

He nodded mutely. 

She gave a dry laugh. Through his eyelashes, Wonwoo saw her knobby hands spoon tea leaves into the porcelain cups as she talked. “You can speak, I won’t take your head for it.”

Not detecting a trap yet, Wonwoo answered. “Yes, Your Majesty. Tea would be great.”

Steam curled above the cups, a thin curtain between the two sides of the table. The queen seemed to appraise him and without realizing, Wonwoo unfurled his hunched shoulders and sat up straighter. 

“What do you think of my granddaughter?”

This is it. A clear trap so she could banish him. 

Wonwoo kept his eyes on the tea cup in his hands. “She will be a great queen, Your Majesty.”

“I have no doubt about that but what do you think about her? Not as queen but as a person.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“I’ve had dozens of men sit in front of me and wax poetically about my granddaughter and her virtues. She’s beautiful, she’s intelligent, she’s patient—” 

Wonwoo snorted and immediately flushed with panic.

“You disagree?”

“I think…” He risked looking up at her and found her lips quirked in amusement. It gave him the confidence to speak freely. “If that’s all they can compliment then they haven’t been paying good enough attention.”

“Now why do you say that?”

“She's beautiful but she’s as stubborn as a camel elephant. She is intelligent but she’s aggravating.” He shook his head. “She doesn’t listen. Her patience only lasts until the tip of her nose.”

The queen stared at him, surprised by his honesty.

“What else do you notice about my granddaughter?” 

“She’s smart, caring. People respect her. Maybe not the nobles but the staff do. Even in the,” he trailed off. The queen already knew about the nights out of the palace but he felt like those moments - when his friends sung your praises after the fight in the warehouse, when the fortune teller grew fond of you immediately - those were private. 

“Even where, Captain Jeon?” She leveled him with an expectant look. “When you snuck her out of the palace and into the city?”

He could have denied it; spun some story about how he had no idea the princess snuck out right under his nose, no knowledge of the maze of secret passageways beneath the palace. Wonwoo sat up straighter and decided if he was going to go down, he’d do it with dignity. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

She returned the porcelain tea cup in her hand to the lacquered tray, peering at Wonwoo with a smirk. “At least you have honor. Tell me, how did the citizens react to their princess in disguise.” 

“The people in the Middle Districts didn’t know her but they liked her. She earned their respect without them knowing who she was.” He didn’t admit he liked you the moment he laid eyes on you, before he knew your name, or how fierce of a competitor you were; he liked you more after. It felt like a lifetime ago.

“I heard she did quite the number on you in the warehouse as well.”

“I—” Wonwoo silenced himself by taking a too large gulp of very hot tea.

“Captain Jeon, do you think anything happens in the palace that I don’t know about? I believe you witnessed her meeting with Galin.”

“You knew he was stealing and did nothing?”

“Who do you suppose whispered in his ear to approach my granddaughter about a new investment? You’ve met the man. He’s not bright enough to tie his own pants let alone run a scheme. It is better to keep the arrogant ones on a shorter leash than the rest.”

“So you set her up?”

“My granddaughter is stubborn and refuses to take the easiest path. Some lessons must be learned the hard way. She needed to learn not to take their word at face value.”

“But why?”

“The royal court is like a poisonous garden, some of the most unassuming plants are the deadliest. She needed to be tested and I believe she would have failed if not for you.” 

He sat speechless.

“Finicky thing, water. It isn’t unyielding like earth, but it’s stubborn in its own way. You can’t keep it where it doesn’t want to be. No matter how you try to contain it, it will find a way around any obstacle. Water can be patient, slowly cutting the path it wants over years and years. But it can also be unwilling and destructive.” She looked to the dark windows, lightning reflecting off the panes. “My granddaughter needed to learn when to act and when to lay in wait for the right moment. At this very moment the nobles are in a frenzy because Galin’s meeting with her. They don’t know what was discussed but they know his grandson no longer resides in the temples his family has learned firebending at for generations. They know his daughters have returned to his estate in the countryside. Her actions have rippled across the court.”

“You don’t approve?”

“Oh, quite the contrary. I think she did a wonderful job taking advantage of that old idiot. There are a few nobles that respect her already. The ones that don’t are close friends of Galin’s and are afraid of her.” 

“Good.”

“And you love her.”

“Yes, but—“ Wonwoo choked. There was honesty and there was stupidity and he feared he crossed the narrow line. “I didn’t mean…”

“When I was her age, I loved a man who was considered below my station. A guard who I became friends with as a young woman in the palace. There were hundreds of reasons not to pursue him and I was too afraid to pursue what I really wanted. I was afraid the nobles would not respect or fear me if I chose love over my duty. It’s one of the greatest regrets of my life.”

“But the king?” Wonwoo trailed off. The queens face grew fond, as if remembering the late king.

“I learned to love my husband and we grew very fond of each other,” she admitted. “But I don’t want my granddaughter to grow fond of a man when she has the opportunity to avoid the mistakes I made and marry a man she loves.”

She was talking about him. You loved him. Or, at least, the Queen thought so. And she was on his side. The queen, the one person with the power to make things work, wanted him to be with you. It didn’t feel real.

For a moment Wonwoo thought you wouldn’t appreciate being left out of such an important conversation. If he wanted to be with you, marry you, then the first person he should’ve spoken with about it was you. He imagined the anger, the hopefully empty threats to refuse given he didn’t ask you if you even wanted to marry him. But he also realized it was a good thing he didn’t because if he knew you wanted him completely – entirely – and there wasn’t a way to give you that, he’d never live with the disappointment.

“Tell me what to do.”

The queen pressed her hands to the table. There was a loose family resemblance but it was obvious in the raise of her chin and the stubborn tilt of her brow  “The tournament for her hand starts tomorrow. In all honesty, I find it barbaric but the nobles respect tradition even if it’s a formality.”

Wonwoo knew about the tournament vaguely. Eligible royalty would declare themselves interested by competing, the winner married you. But Wonwoo wasn’t royal.  “I can’t compete. I don’t have a title. I don’t have anything.”

“Nowhere in the rules does it require competitors to be titled. I believe, in my most recent reading this morning, it said competitors only need to be in good standing with the crown. Since I am the crown and I like you, I’d say that’ll do the trick. Besides, you don’t need to prove you are as good as those brats. You need to be better and based on Aiko’s appraisal of you, I’m confident you’ll succeed.”

“I… I don’t know what to say.”

“Do you love my granddaughter?”

Wonwoo answered without hesitation. “Yes.”

“Enough to marry her? To commit your life not just to her but to the kingdom?”

Then, Wonwoo hesitated. He knew he loved you, that he wanted to be with you. But did he want to rule a country? Live his life on display for the world to see? With a silver crown balanced precariously on his head?

“It’s a lot to ask. And it won’t be easy. Many of the nobles will object, even ones who I’d consider friends. But I’m quite fond of change. And you might be what this kingdom needs.”

Was he ready to help rule a country? He didn’t have the education or the money the others had; didn’t possess the connections from generations of high society. What could Wonwoo offer you that no other man could? What could he give you beyond himself?

But he remembered those times you sought him out in a crowd. When you drowned in the weight of responsibilities, he managed to pull you back above the surface. When you rushed ahead, he pulled you back. And when you didn't let anyone see the true you - you trusted Wonwoo to see and understand.

The only thing Wonwoo could give you was a sanctuary to ease your burdens.

Maybe that was enough.

“I’ll do it.”

You hid in the farthest edges of the garden, where the bristle grew in thick unkempt patches and the hedges nearly reached the sky. The worst of the rain had given way to a steady hammering, clouds thick enough the moon couldn’t shine through. Your shoes were ruined; caked with mud. The saturated ground refused to swallow more water, puddles the size of swimming pools spanning from one side of your escape to the other. Wind whipped cheeks burned from each stinging drop of rain and the warm tears you couldn’t stop. It was dull knowledge at the back of your consciousness. 

Your heart laid heaving at your feet, half of it left in your room with Wonwoo. The other half still sitting in your chest ached for him too. Neither part belonged to you and you don’t know when it happened; when Wonwoo stole your heart and left you missing him even when he was within arms reach.

Or maybe you gave it to him that first night you snuck down to the warehouses and watched match after match for hours, only paying attention when Wonwoo was at the center of it. Or in the market when he saved you and didn’t have to. In the forest when he treated you like an equal. Maybe you chipped a small part away for him each time and now there was nothing left; nothing except for the lonely void for him to fill in ways he never could. 

But it didn’t matter. What you felt wasn’t important, whatever it was couldn’t come true. There wasn’t a magic wand to wave and fix everything that was broken. What could you do? What could you do when there was no way to be with the only person you ever wanted?

You wanted to find Wonwoo and demand an answer; shake him until all the pieces fell into place. 

However, your grandmother swept him into a meeting and kept him all day. None of the servants would tell you where they were and even when you discovered their location the guards wouldn’t budge. You found yourself pacing like a caged tiger, back and forth in front of the doors; hours dragged on and no one emerged so the gardens offered a respite from the anxiety. 

Dread filled its place.

You felt the rain all around. Everything it touched dully tickled at your senses. That’s why you weren’t surprised when Wonwoo finally approached after spending fifteen minutes watching you from the archway. 

“You’ll catch your death out here.”

“How horrible,” you said. You kept your eyes glued to the pond at your feet, how the surface rippled wildly from the rain. “What do you want?”

Wonwoo appeared in front of you, kneeling in the mud at your feet, only an arms reach away and yet so much further. “I’m seeking an audience with Your Highness.”

“Didn’t you spend all day with my grandmother?” You didn’t even attempt to hide the hurt in your tone. The last day of your freedom and he spent it locked away from you. 

“Unfortunately, she couldn’t answer my question.” He’s soaked to the bone, the crisp lines of his uniforms limp from the weight of water. You’re at home in a storm like these. Wonwoo looked woefully out of place.

You swallowed thickly. “And what is your dilemma?”

“I'm in love with the queen-to-be. And I'm inquiring if she loves me too.”

The tears came hot and fast; you tried to blink them back but it was useless. Your head tilted back slightly, inviting more rain to sting on your face;  they mixed with the tears washing down your face.

“I…” Your voice cracked. Wonwoo leveled his gaze with your own, searching for something. The mist of the rain blurred the space between you. “Of course I do and try as I might, I can’t figure a way out of it.”

An eternity passed in silence. Wonwoo watched you, the pathetic sight of red rimmed eyes and soaked clothes. He didn’t shy away from the ugliness you felt. He leaned closer, his hand trembling slightly as he grabbed yours, as if testing the waters. You let him.

“What if I had a way?”

“Wonwoo…” you sighed and looked away. You couldn’t bear to look at the desperate longing in his eyes; or how it mirrored your own heart.

“Don’t say my name like that.” He moved closer,  hands resting on your thighs. You felt everything through your dress. His hands are almost unbearably hot even in the cold rain.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re saying goodbye.”

The rain fell harder. Deafening. You exploded with it, solemn tears turning into angry ones. “Isn’t that what we’re doing? After tomorrow this ends.” You motioned towards your hands. “I won’t have you standing next to me if I can’t have all of you. I won’t. I won’t do it.”

You’d been lulled into a false sense of security the past week. Dealing with reality in the daylight and having him in the shadows and the quiet dark of the night. You fooled yourself to believe it was enough, at least for the time. But you had to marry and your husband – no matter how forgiving – would never tolerate your closeness with Wonwoo; you wouldn’t be in their shoes. 

Wonwoo didn’t let you hide from him. He cupped your face, forced you to look at him but you shut your eyes and refused; pressed his forehead to yours so his breath ghosted over your lips with his next words. “If you could marry me, would you?” 

You wanted to scream It doesn’t matter! It didn’t matter that you loved him. It didn’t matter if you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him. You couldn’t have him. The world worked in absolutes and this was one of them.

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s impossible. Why even—”

“I didn’t ask what was impossible. I asked if you’d marry me.”

You didn’t hesitate to finally open your eyes and meet his brown ones. “Yes.”

“Then trust me,” he asked softly. Begging.

“What exactly did my grandmother say to you?”

Wonwoo blanched, blinking as if he hadn’t expected you to ask. 

“I—We have a plan. You’re not going to like it…”

“But?”

“She told me not to tell you.”

You exploded from the bench, crowding down on Wonwoo.  “Are you serious? You expect me to blindly follow whatever plan you made with her and I don’t even get to know what it is”

“It has to be done a certain way.” Wonwoo stood and swept you into his arms. There was no one out here to see, no one stupid enough to catch an early death. Besides you two. “Just trust me. Please?”

You sank into him, savoring the comforting warmth he brought with him everywhere. You traced the hem of his collar with soft fingers. You did trust him. It wasn’t natural for you to put your faith in many people but time and time again Wonwoo showed you he was a good man. “Fine. But if this doesn’t work I’m going to drown you.”

“I’d expect nothing less,” he whispered into your hair. “Now will you come inside? It’s disgusting out here.”

Back in the seclusion of your apartment, you pinned Wonwoo to the couch, commanded his lap and sucked the rain from his lips. You lingered, sunk into the warmth of his hands tenderly tracing your back; the same comfort of a warm summer breeze softly brushing your skin even in the chill of damp clothes. You both lingered there. Tucked away from the rest of the palace, an unspoken promise lingering in the air. You kissed him until the aching in your chest dulled.

You didn’t know what the morning would bring but you trusted Wonwoo. 

And that was enough.

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---

WHAT IS THIS I AM BARKING

AN ICON

A FRESH START [20]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: description of injuries, language, spoilers for S3 The Mandalorian, mentions of death experiences, anxiety, PTSD references

Word Count: 5,066

Updates every Thursday

#20: SHORT STICK BEARS HIS WRATH

.

"you can't heal if you pretend you're not hurt." -aliza grace

.

Grogu had a habit of making friends wherever he went. So, it didn’t surprise Din to see that a bulk of Ari’s crew were gushing over his son and offering him different things to play with. After parking the N1 and walking to the address Ari messaged him, what looked like an old fighting gym, he entered to see a small group of people surrounding Grogu who stood on the table and babbled. They listened intently, cooed back to him, and offered him a variety of objects to either eat or play with.

Din’s eyes landed on Ari who was sitting in a desk chair, feet kicked up and ankles crossed, while frowning at the sight. When her gaze drifted toward him she blew out an annoyed breath of air. “Finally. Can you please take your son and go? It seems while he’s around my crew is,” Ari turned to yell out the next words at the people surrounding Grogu, “Incapable of doing their kriffing jobs!”

“The stressors of running a criminal empire.” Din snorted.

“Aw, you think my little show is an empire?” Ari grinned impishly. “That’s cute. I appreciate it, but I don’t think I’ve reached that level of notoriety yet.”

“Yeah, well, I have faith in you.”

Din knew her main skill set was in smuggling. He assumed that’s what she was still doing, just branching out and roping others in. Still, Din wasn’t too worried about breaking up her party or shining a spotlight down on her. Of all the evil Din had seen in the galaxy, Ari was harmless. Well, mostly harmless.

“Hey boss, can we keep it?” A large man turned and pointed to Grogu who had his hands up in the air as he babbled about a story.

“Him, you idiot.” Ari corrected. “It’s Mando’s son.”

“Oh, sorry.” The man replied. “Can we keep him?”

“See what I mean? Useless.” Ari scoffed. Din called out for Grogu who took the time to gather up all the snacks being offered to him then jumped into his pram to drift over. Ari crossed her arms and snapped for the others to get back to their jobs. They gradually drifted away. She looked at him. “So? How’s the doc?”

Din tilted his head. “Left him thirty minutes outside the city to crawl back.”

“That all?”

“I may have…” Din chose his words carefully. “Stacked the odds against him.” Ari chuckled in amusement and he nodded. “I need you to keep an eye on that for me.”

“How so?”

“Make sure there’s a corpse, and if there isn’t,” Din shrugged nonchalantly, “Make one.”

The request rolled off his tongue as if he were in Nevarro going to his neighbor’s house to ask for some sugar. Din saw no issue in his request. If he wasn’t on such a time crunch in his eagerness to return to you then he’d stick around and double check for himself. 

Ari nodded. “Alright. I’m counting that as two favors now though. So, you owe me.” Din dragged his helmeted gaze to look at her and raised an eyebrow in skepticism as if she’d be able to see. Ari read the tone enough to snicker. “Fine. Fine. We’re even then.”

“Deal.”

“So,” Ari whistled, “If you and your ‘not wife’ ever tie the knot will I get invited to the wedding? Do Mandalorians have weddings?” 

“Stop talking.” Din shook his head and turned to leave. He chuckled under his breath. Grogu followed after him⏤ the child’s cheeks full of some local dessert. Great, now he’d be bouncing around the cockpit of the N1 for Maker knows how long.

Ari called a good-bye after him as he left. “Nice seeing you too, Mando! Safe travels!”

Nima told you not to freak out. Her exact words had been, ‘Alright, everything is okay and you are safe and it’s all going to be fine but you need to know this’. Your first horrific thought was that the news would somehow involve your boys. It had been a knee jerk fear that filled your entire soul with dread. Then Nima followed it up with, ‘Kurt’s trial was put on hold’.

And, as wild as it was, you felt relief. That had been your initial reaction. Before Nevarro, hearing those words would have made you immediately throw up. But in this situation, all you could think was how grateful you were that the bad news didn’t involve Din or Grogu.

“I’m sorry.” Nima murmured and you could see how devastated she was to share this news with you. She was the kind of person who felt every emotion she had so deeply. It’s why she was so lively and bubbly as her day to day happiness shined through. However, in moments like this, it broke your heart to see her so empathetic to your own pain. “I went back and forth on telling you, but you made me swear to update you on any news I thought was important and this seemed important. Plus, I didn’t want you to hear on accident from somewhere else or⏤”

“Nima.” You reached out to squeeze her arm and gave her a smile. “It’s okay. Thank you for telling me.” The longer the news lingered in your mind the more it began to unravel your sense of peace. “What happened? Do we know why?”

She shook her head. “They won’t report it yet. Just that it’s delayed.”

Could trials be delayed right in the middle of it? You didn’t know a lot about law or the system surrounding it. Nima was rambling about something or another, trying to bring you comfort, but your thoughts drifted away. You wished Din were here. That wasn’t a surprising thought. Every single day since they left, multiple times a day really, you’d see something or think of something that made you crave their presence more than the baseline. Just yesterday you bought a bag of Grogu’s favorite blue cookies from the sandwich shop just for the hell of it. 

You heard your name, mumbled in concern, and your focus snapped back to Nima who was staring at you as if she was waiting for you to crumble. Slowly, you could feel the edges of your nerves beginning to fray, but that’s what work was for right? Distract you from all those dangerous thoughts and fears.

“Seriously. I am okay.” You reassured her once more. “This stays between us, right?”

“Of course.”

Your day carried on as if the news hadn't been shared with you. It would be the one day you wanted to keep busy that all of Nevarro decided to be the picture perfect definition of health. It was in part due to the droid being repaired which took off a lot of lower level urgent cases rather than emergent and it even saw some people with active conditions routinely. That would be it's primary purpose until the new guy that Karga hired eventually got out here.

When you went home for the night, you had only been moving around the kitchen for a few minutes, getting dinner ready, when your com rang for a holocall. You set your armband on the island counter to stand and answer. Grogu’s face immediately filled the entire screen with a loud ‘Ma!’ which pulled a laugh out of you. You needed that. 

“Grogu, share.” Din replied though you could only barely see him behind Grogu’s face.

“No.” Grogu replied simply before he began to babble about his day. He was getting better at expressing himself every day and you were picking up on words like ‘new friends’, ‘more food’, and even something that sounded like he was trying to tell you there was someone he didn’t like. Din sighed loudly, but you could hear the amusement in his tone.

“Uh huh.” You nodded your head, giving the little green boy your full attention, “Tell Ma all about it, baby.” It wasn’t until a solid five to ten minutes later that Grogu was appeased with the amount of attention from you that he was willing to share with his father. He wiggled out of the camera’s space so you could actually see Din, and the boy waved with a quick ‘Love Ma!’. You actually felt your heart tighten in your chest. “Love you too, baby.”

Grogu crawled away, probably to stir up trouble where he could find it on the small ship, and you bit back tears. The longer you sat with the news about Kurt the more you felt wired and anxious. Getting to talk to Grogu and see the cheerful boy made a world of difference.

“Mama’s boy.” You heard Din mutter with a chuckle while watching Grogu crawl away to wherever he went. His gaze quickly focused back on you and he let out a soft sigh. “Ner kar’ta. How was your day?”

“It was fine.” You leaned against the counter.

For the next half hour, you and Din talked about anything and everything. He told you about how the rest of his trip on that Outer Rim planet went, and he told you he dealt with Daelar. Din didn’t give you details on the specific, but you found that you didn’t really need them. You didn’t really care. Then you told him about your day, but gradually the two of you got off topic and trailed on about other things. Din was speaking, you could hear the sound of his comforting voice, but you found yourself accidentally zoning out. Your mind not falling into a specific thought, but just drifting away. It wasn’t until the third time that Din called out to you that you realized he had been doing so in the first place.

“Hm? Sorry.” You shook your head.

Even through a holocall, halfway across the galaxy, you could see the worry that Din wore. He had shifted forward in his seat, elbows on his knees, and there was a tension in his shoulders. If that didn’t give him away then the tilt in his head and the tone of his voice did. “What’s wrong? You’re troubled.” He didn’t ask if you were troubled. He just knew you were. “Tell me. Are you okay?”

“I am. I promise.” You replied. The last thing you wanted to do was worry him. Knowing Din, if you told him about Kurt he would do something drastic like immediately come back to Nevarro. Which, on one hand, was tempting, but it would just mean he’d need to leave again. Plus, you knew how important this mission was to him. You were not going to intercede with your own issues and drama. So, you decided on a lie of omission. “This afternoon there had been a patient with a chronic illness I didn’t remember much of. He was also Rodian and their anatomy is a blur to me. So, it was a lot of research and just working on the fly and I guess my brain just won’t let it go. I’m second guessing myself.”

Din’s entire body relaxed, but he stayed leaned over so he was closer to the camera⏤ closer to you. “Don’t. You’re incredible at what you do and immensely clever when you need to think on the spot.” You felt your cheeks warm at his blatant complements. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re the greatest physician in the galaxy.”

You snorted. “Right. And that’s your totally unbiased opinion.” Din nodded. “All that medical knowledge you have makes you an expert in that decision.”

“I have twenty plus years of working a cautery, thank you.” Din replied with a chuckle.

“Yes. Obviously, so qualified.”

“Fine.” Din’s voice took a teasing edge. “You’re the best physician in all of Nevarro. Is that better?”

You let out a loud laugh and just as it had eased your anxious heart with Grogu, Din settled your soul as well.  Din was immensely proud of himself. You could see the smug air about him even through the holocall. When your laughter died down, you rested your chin on your hand to hold up your head.

“I miss you.” You mumbled.

Din sighed. “I miss you too, ner kar’ta. But it won’t be much longer.” You perked up. “I am stopping to speak to an…old friend.” The way he said the words made you doubt that this person was an actual friend⏤ or that the relationship was tumultuous at best. “Then on to Mandalore.”

A soft smile filled your features at the news. 

“Ma! Ma!” Grogu was yelling again as he tried to get into the picture.

Din scooped the boy up to set him on his laugh and playfully scolded. “You had your turn, ad’ika. It’s my turn with Ma.”

“No. Me.” Grogu argued.

You watched in amusement as Din continued to tease Grogu into a silly argument on who got to have your attention. Maker, you needed them back soon.

Ever since Nima shared the news about Kurt, nightmares plagued you. It was an odd mix of past and future. Some nights Kurt would be carving into you, telling you that you didn’t deserve to live, and other nights you’d have to watch helplessly as he hurt Din and Grogu.

You preferred the nights where Kurt made you bleed.

That added to the fact that while on Mandalore Din was not going to be able to call you due to interference really distracted you. Sleep deprived and anxiety riddled while working in a clinic with medical tools was not the ideal combination. The bacta tank needed refreshing in case of emergencies and during a quiet moment in the office you had told Aayla you planned to get it done. It was dirty work, cleaning the bacta filters, but you didn’t mind it. You hoped forward motion, keeping yourself busy, would keep you awake and sane.

So, when your hand slipped on the mechanism, causing the thick filter door to slam shut on your hand, it had been entirely your own fault.

"Fuck!" You screamed in agony as you felt the bones in your fingers snap. Blinded by the panic, your natural instinct was to try to pull your hand out, but the door was closed too tight for it to budge. All it did was send sharp, lightning strikes of pain shooting up your arm.

Aayla was by your side in an instant and she was shouting commands or reassurances at you, but your mind was in a fog. Maybe it was the pain or the exhaustion, but your body slumped forward onto the bacta tank as your vision went black.

It came back seconds later, but you didn’t feel the same. Rather than pain, you felt the telltale sign of something running through your veins to bring you relief. You were also now lying on a cot rather than standing over the bacta tank.

“What are we supposed to do when the doctor needs a doctor?” Mayfeld scoffed. You couldn't see him from where you laid, but his voice was easily recognizable. So was Vanth’s who replied.

“Use the droid.”

“The droid? That’s your solution? Let the kriffing droid work on the woman Mando is head over heels for?” Mayfeld cried. “He’s better about the damn things, but if he heard about this he’d come back to Nevarro just to kill us. Then he’d somehow save our asses from the brink of death just so he can kill us again.” 

You groaned and all your words came out groggily, “Stop talking. Both of you.” There was the sound of steps and suddenly it was Vanth’s face in your vision grinning down at you. “Why are you in here again?”

“Well, because the doc went and got her hand jammed up in some machinery.” Vanth replied. His words reminded you of the injury and you lifted your left hand to see a splint wrapped around your last three fingers. The ring finger was the worst, but all three were discolored and swollen. Vanth’s teasing tone switched to sincerity. “How’re you feeling, little lady?”

“Drugged.” You complained and rubbed your face with your good hand. The lack of pain was nice, but you hated how certain strong medications could make you feel.

“Yeah,” Mayfeld chimed, “That’s the e-bacta shot we gave you.”

“E-bacta??” You scoffed. “Where the hell did you get the e-bacta and why did you bring it into my clinic? That shit is illegal for a reason.” This version of bacta was so potent and strong that it was only one step down from spice, really. Addictive as hell and hard to keep from degrading. “Why did you do that?”

Vanth pointed at your broken hand. “Because that looks kriffing miserable. We’d put you in the tank altogether just to be cautious but we had to break the damn thing to get you unlodged from it.”

“Shit.” You forced yourself to sit up and the room spun. Both men reached out to steady you. “The tank is broken??”

Mayfeld snorted. “Yeah, and so is your hand. Focus on that instead.”

You rubbed your face in a poor attempt to gain some clarity. “Please tell me no one told Mando.”

Maybe he’d still be on Mandalore and there’d be no service for someone to tell him you got hurt. This was just like a few days ago when you learned about Kurt. You couldn’t make Din worry. He needed to focus on his own task and not be thinking about you.

“Told Mando?” Mayfeld cried. “Nobody wants to make the call and tell the indestructible tin can that we let his girl get hurt.”

Vanth shrugged. “We were gonna draw straws later. Us, Karga, Nima, Peli. Short stick has to bear his wrath.” He grinned at you. “But now that you’re up and talking, little lady, looks like we don’t need to do that.”

Mayfeld nodded and pointed at the man. “Yeah, good point. She should tell him. He won’t kill her.”

“Either stop talking or give me more e-bacta.” You grumbled.

Ignoring the well meaning but overbearing men, you cradled your broken hand in your lap. The splint on your hand was decent. You’d need something more permanent, but for a patch job it was solid. The sound of doors sliding open made you glance up to see Aayla fluttering in. She put her hands on her hips with a solid attempt of intimidation.

“I already chased out Nima. Now you two, as well?” 

The men glanced at you and you tilted your head and added. “Go. Don’t tell Mando.” As they neared the door you called out one last time. “And…thanks, guys.”

You did appreciate them and how much they cared. Even if some of that caring just came from a healthy fear of Din. Not that you thought Din would actually hurt either man. They were friends and this had very clearly been your fault.

“Did you do this?” You pointed to your hand and Aayla nodded with a sheepish grin. “It’s good. It’s really good, Aayla.” The woman beamed at your praise and you chuckled. “Did you get any scans yet?”

“Yes. We did.” She brought over a datapad and opened up the program that held all the imaging. You took it from her to look over your own scans and winced. Dank farrik. Hairline fractures on your pinky and middle finger, and an actual break in your ring finger. No wonder you blacked out. “Do we need to get you to a facility? Does your finger need surgical correction?”

You praised her line of thought then shook her head. “The fracture will heal itself once splinted. In order to test the tendons I need the swelling to go down just a bit so I can try moving my finger.”

Aayla stepped away and then returned with a cream and some ice. She got you situated on the cot and lifted the bed so you could lay back without being entirely flat. She was going to be a good doctor one day. After she went through school and all that. You leaned your head against the pillow and shut your eyes. It would be best for you to get some solid shut eye while the e-bacta was in your system. 

Since reaching Mandalore, everything had happened fast. Back to back to back, Din had what should have been considered one of the worst days of his life. Nearly dying three times qualified as a terrible day. However, Din was not dead. More than just not dead, he was redeemed. 

Din Djarin was no longer an Apostate.

He was Mandalorian once more.

That alone could make this a wonderful day, but the knowledge that this meant he could proceed in pursuing you was overwhelming. If he thought about it for too long it’d send him to his knees. The first thing he wanted to do was call you, but that plan was derailed when Imps bombed Bo Katan’s home. Considering the woman had saved his life, and watched Grogu when he was unable, the least he could do was get her to safety. Maybe the covert wasn’t the best place for Bo Katan Kryze, but Din needed to go there anyway so why not use it as a shelter.

As Nima liked to say: two porgs, one blaster.

When everything had settled, the first thing he did was find a quiet spot to call you. Grogu was passed out in his arms and Bo Katan was sitting not too far away in contemplation.

“You alright?” Din questioned.

Bo hummed. “Suppose so. Not how I expected this day to go, but…”

“I’m sorry. About your home.” 

“...Thank you.” Bo said after a beat of hesitation.

Din could tell she was still in distress. Lost in her thoughts. He could’ve pressed further, attempt to help her some more, but it would have to wait. If Din didn’t talk to you right now he’d burst. The excitement of being redeemed mingled with the knowledge that for a brief moment today he thought everything had been over. 

He activated the holocall and leaned against the cave wall. 

When your face appeared on the screen, Din sighed in relief. Being trapped on Mandalore, sending Grogu away, your face had been the last one he thought of. “Ner kar’ta.” He breathed out. Din didn’t even care that Bo was only a few feet away and able to hear his entire conversation. “You are…”

He was going to call her a sight for sore eyes, but you looked more than exhausted. Something was wrong. Your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes and you didn’t have that same glow that Din admired. Before he could question, you spoke, “You can call! That means you’re not on Mandalore anymore, right? How’d it go?”

“I am redeemed.” Din said with pride and despite how tired you look the smile you wore brightened in excitement. You cried out about how happy you were for him and how proud and how much you missed him and couldn’t wait to see him. Hearing that praise from you was somehow better than hearing the Armorer confirm he was no longer an Apostate. Din shook his head, deciding to steer right back to his concern, “You look terrible, ner kar’ta.”

You forced a chuckle. “Exactly what a girl wants to hear.”

“You are the most stunning woman I have ever known, and every day I get to see you, bask in your beauty,  is a blessing I am undeserving of.” Din said sincerely and he watched your face twist in mild embarrassment. Your smile turning cute and sheepish. He grew serious once more. “But right now, you look ill. Hurt. So I will ask again," Din shook his head, "What. Is. Going. On?”

You twisted your lips, weighing pros and cons, and then with a sigh you lifted your right hand so it came into the screen’s view. Din’s eyes widened at the swollen and discolored look of your fingers wrapped in a makeshift split. 

“Me’bana!? Cuyir gar o'r aaray??” Din barked. Grogu stirred briefly in his arms. “Pehea rucuyir gar shupur'yc!?”

“I don’t speak Mando’a, honey.” You sighed with a small amused smile.

If Din wasn’t so caught off guard and worried about the state of your hand, the nickname that fell from your lips so easily would have made him flush in warmth. Din shook his head. “Are you alright?? What happened?”

“It was stupid.” You shook your head. “Cleaning the bacta tank, I slipped up. Got my hand caught in the filter door.” That wasn’t like you. Typically, you were very cautious and careful with your work. “It looks worse than it actually is, I swear. The swelling has gone down a lot.”

Din narrowed his eyes at your wording. “How much time has passed? When did this happen, ner kar’ta?”

“...Yesterday?” You said it like it was a question.

“Ner kar’ta.”

“Yesterday morning.” You confirmed sheepishly.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You were on Mandalore. No service.”

Din tilted his head, “You tried to hide it at the start of this conversation. If I didn’t press, would you have told me about your accident?” You pressed your lips together and winced. Din blew out a breath of air. “Dank farrik. Ner kar’ta…” 

“I didn’t want to worry you.” You said softly with a frown.

Din shook his head again, keeping his voice firm. “I need to know these things.” The thought that you were injured was staggering, but knowing you could be hurt and keep it from him? All he wanted in life was to protect you. Take care of you. “You need to tell me⏤”

“Why?” Bo suddenly called out loud enough that your face morphed into confusion at the sound of an unfamiliar voice. “Did you tell her about how you nearly died three times today?”

Din flinched and your jaw popped open. The exhaustion seemed to be wiped away and replaced with a mix of anger and shock. “You what!?” Din began to speak but you cut him off. “You nearly died today!? Din! What the hell is the mystery voice talking about!?”

“Well, it wasn’t⏤”

“You were gonna scold me about my broken hand and not mention multiple near death experiences??” Din winced. That was a fair point. He didn’t see it from that side. The sight of your discolored and swollen digits had blinded him about every other detail of the day. “Din Djarin⏤ Do you have a middle name? I want to yell your entire name at you but⏤ never mind. Just⏤ Maker! Are you alright? Are you safe? Is Grogu⏤”

Din cut in, “Yes. To all of it. Grogu is safe,” He lifted his arm enough that she could see the snoozing boy, “I am safe, I am okay. In fact, I am less injured than you are right now.” He sighed. “And, you’re right. That wasn’t fair of me. I just… I panicked.”

Your gaze softened but the concern remained. “Yeah. I guess… As long as you guys are safe.”

“We are, and we’ll be home soon.” Din promised. Your lips twitched up into a smile. “Who is taking care of you right now?”

You chuckled. “Uh, me?”

Din hummed in displeasure. He should be there to help you⏤ to take care of you. It killed him to be this far from you. A part of him wanted to stand up right now and fly home, but he needed to talk to the Armorer tomorrow. He needed to have something forged.

“Maybe you should stay with Nima…”

“I can take care of myself, Din.” You grinned. “I’m the greatest doctor in the galaxy, remember?” Din chuckled under his breath. “You really are okay, though?”

Din nodded. “I swear to you, ner kar’ta.”

They only spoke for a few more moments because Din was adamant you go to bed even though it wasn’t very late in Nevarro. You just looked so exhausted. Maybe he’d talk to Karga about a vacation. If they got the new physician to move to Nevarro then the city could afford to spare you for a few days. Vanth could stay a little while longer to cover for him. Din just wanted to take you somewhere nice⏤ somewhere relaxing. Though he should probably focus on actually courting you before he starts thinking of honeymoon options.

When the holocall ended, Din glanced over at Bo who simply tilted her head at him. He scoffed, “Really?”

“Seemed like pertinent information.”

“Your hand still looks like shit.”

You glanced up at Nima with a tight lipped smile. “A little rude considering I saved your hand.” She snickered. She wasn’t wrong. The swelling had improved but the bruising still looked Maker awful. Though, with Aayla’s help you were able to get a real splint on it. “I thought you were bringing me lunch.”

“I thought you were going to come with me to lunch.” She argued.

Luckily, the clinic wasn’t busy. So you shrugged out of your white coat, leaving you in just your scrubs, and then followed Nima who was leading the way with a bounce. There had been no further news on the Kurt situation which left you in turmoil. However, Nima had been doing her best to distract you and anytime anxiety did try to wash over you, you just reminded yourself that your boys would be home in the next 48 hours or so. 

“The Razor Crest project is going so well.” Nima clapped her hands. “I mean, we’re still missing some key pieces, but Peli and I are nearly done with the engine rebuild. Can you believe that?” You hummed in interest. It’d be nice to see it eventually. The Crest was such a strong presence in so many of Din’s story and Grogu’s pictures. Obviously, this wasn’t the exact same. Version 2.0, but still. “Peli said⏤”

The sound of a low rumble filled the air. As you, Nima, and all the other citizens standing outside paused to listen to the sound, a large shade began to cover the city. As if the sun was being blocked out. You looked up and your eyes widened at the sight of a huge ship.

“Shit. That’s a Corsair.” Nima mumbled in shock. Just as the words left her mouth, an alarm began to blare loudly and the voice of a droid called for evacuation to the lava fields. You didn't even have a spare second to panic because that’s when blaster fire rained down on Nevarro.

mando'a translations

ner kar'ata: my heart Me'bana?: What happened? Cuyir gar o'r aaray?: Are you in pain? Pehea rucuyir gar shupur'yc?: How were you injuried?

taglist:

@aheadfullofsteverogers @yyiikes @kneelforloki @c-ms1ut @sgt-morgan @luthienaliceisilra @fawn-kitten @missbabyjay @coldlamaspersonspy @dilfsaremyfavourite @jamesbuckybarnes @yorkeylover @teawrites01 @emily-roberts @djarinxore @impala1967666 @shelbyteller @faithrenner @dindjarindude @dankfarrick29 @rh1nestonecowg1rl @garbo-lesbo @anythingforattention @tearfulsolace @onceinamando @catharinaroxastova @uwu-i-purple-you @modiddys-blog @stagerightlauren @mini-bees @xxinvisblexx @adoringanakin @sagegreensensei @spidey-3 @sydney-1209 @thepascalofus @hrtsforpascal @banana-lol @daybleedsintonightfall11 @lil-dragon-draws @guccistardust @ideajpeg @harriedandharassed @leithatnight @elfamosotoga @damnzelsoul @the-anchored-sailor-girl @morks-watermelon @katelynmarieyt @taylorann2013 @chonkercatto @dheet @liadamerondjarin @fallinallinmendes @missdicaprio @jennaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa @alphaash99 @djarinsmixtape @pcrushinnerd @closedaddition @thelovelyhann @harrys-sunflower-bakery @mayaaaaah @theway-thisis

i wanna thank damon for letting jure be sexy, he doesn't get that opportunity enough

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Blow by Blow | 0.3 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader au

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

Synopsis: Bradley’s washed up before his career has even really begun. He doesn’t want to fill his father’s shoes and he doesn’t want someone else to either. Stuck in limbo, living the same way he always has, the opportunity to step up wanders through the door of his gym in a mini dress and heels that are a size too big.

Warnings: unspecified age gap, violence, probs boxing inaccuracies somewhere along the line, blood and injuries throughout the fic but will be specified in the warnings of the chapter. Smut and other 18+ content, minors dni, no warnings in particular for this one

…

“Why aren’t we doing what you and Payback were doing?” You question as Bradley straps the pads to his hands. He scrunches his brows and looks down at the guys, then back to you incredulously.

“Because I’m not going to hit a girl.” He scoffs back. You suppose that would be unfair, but not because you’re a girl. Because he has been doing this for as long as he can walk, and you’re about as graceful on your feet as a deer on ice.

“So what’s this?” You tap your hands together, wearing gloves that fit this time. There aren’t really any women’s gloves for you to borrow — girls don’t really come here, let alone train here. Nat let you borrow hers. She’s watching with interest at the side of the ring whilst Mickey covers her 11am session.

“Call it target practice, not that you need it apparently.” Bradley jokes, tilting his head from side to his, neck still stiff from that shitty couch upstairs. He’s just messing around, the lamp didn’t even leave a bruise — hitting the floor, now that’s left a mark around his elbows but he’s fine. He’s been through worse.

Rooster hadn’t planned on getting to drunk to drive home last night — spending the day with a sore neck after having to walk back here to spend the night, and also being assaulted with a lamp — those seem like fair punishments for his lapse in judgment.

Your ears heat up slightly. You swallow and offer him a sheepish smile.. “Sorry again, about that.”

He looks you up and down and then smiles, rolling his broad shoulders back. It’s been a while since someone looked at you like he does. “Sorry for breaking in and almost flashing you.”

It’s in your head. You’re getting in your own head about this. It’s just because you saw him and his stupid tanned muscles last night. He’s not flirting with you.

“Almost…?” You aren’t quite sure you heard him right, you take a step closer. He smiles at you and knocks the pads together in his hands, flirting.

“Yeah, I usually sleep naked — you stopped me right in time,” He chuckles, then sniffs. “Alright. You ready?”

You stare at him. He raises his eyebrows at you expectantly. You glance across at Phoenix, who is close enough to have heard what he just said to her. She’s practically wincing.

Swallowing softly, you turn your attention back towards him and nod.

The terminology he uses isn’t exactly beginner friendly, but you understand what he’s asking you to do. Different combos, different variations of swinging towards the pads on his hands — hardly rocket science.

Jab. Jab. Hook. Bradley sighs and shakes his head, “Hit like you mean it, Bambi — this is just sad.” He taunts. You frown, shooting another glance towards Phoenix. “Now!”

You flinch at his raised voice, blinking hard as you turn your head back to face him. Phoenix pinches the bridge of her nose. She probably should have filled him in. Taking a deep breath, you do as he asks. His brows furrow as you complete the combination.

He looks over at Phoenix at the edge of the ring and notices her shaking her head at him. He pauses.

“Have you ever even hit anyone before?” Rooster asks, making no effort to hide his distaste for your current technique. There’s a judgment to his tone that you weren’t expecting. You shift your weight uncomfortably from foot to foot.

He’s hot and cold, and confusing.

No one ever took it easy on him during his training, and that’s what made him good at what he does. It wasn’t until someone took pity on him that it all got screwed up. Going easy on clients doesn’t work.

“No…?”

“Alright, um… maybe we take a couple of steps back,” He lifts his hand and bites the Velcro on the back of the pad, shaking it off of his right. hand and then pulling it off of the other. They clatter to the floor messily. Your skin burns, embarrassed. You’re in the centre of the gym, quite literally on a platform. Rooster curls his fingers towards Phoenix, “Nat, wanna give us a hand?”

“Someone ought to.” She scoffs as she pulls herself up and steps under the ropes. She smiles and nudges her elbow into yours. Bradley rolls his eyes playfully at her.

The practice that you do next is much more tame. Natasha holds your hips, making sure that you stay in ‘stance’. Her arm guides past yours, her fist moving from vertical to horizontal — arm rotating as she extends it. Slow movements with her chest to your back.

You breathe out softly and copy.

“No, not —“ Bradley sighs and catches your wrist, stepping closer. He extends your arm slowly and turns it like hers, then nods. He looks up, meeting your gaze. “Like that. Okay?”

You nod softly.

Footwork is important in boxing, you know that much. It’s as important to be fast as it is to be strong. And yet, Bradley’s got you standing completely stationary, extending your arm and rotating it.

It’s important, making sure that your jab looks good before he moves on to anything else — walking before running, and that kind of thing. You’re already sticking out like a sore thumb, doing this with them just makes you burn with embarrassment.

Still, you won’t admit that here.

After maybe thirty minutes, Bradley reintroduces the pads. He stands in front of you, Phoenix holds your hips.

“Go ‘head, Bambi — impress me.” He murmurs, holding the pad up in front of you. Slow at first, you do exactly what he showed you. His lips quirk at the edges. He nods. “Mhm. Harder.”

Natasha looks past you, staring at him, unimpressed. She knows her best friend well — and he’s an idiot for flirting with you right now. It’s not his fault, he’s just messing around. He likes to tease girls, it’s part of the fun.

Besides, as far as he’s concerned, you broke up with your asshole boyfriend and are probably looking for a rebound. Looking at your short skirt and the tank top that you had strolled in here in, Rooster would be more than happy to be your rebound.

His tongue slips forwards and wets his lips as he glances you up and down. He’s well aware that there are people watching — the guys that train here aren’t used to there being a pretty girl in the ring. They stopped looking at Nat after she launched a dumbbell at a guy, maybe it was a bit much, but it had worked.

You continue, hitting into the pads. Natasha can feel you relaxing into it.

“Harder.” Bradley insists, the impact of your punches barely rocking the pads in his hands. You do as he says, and he lets you go on for a while, but you’re holding back.

It’s boring.

“Alright. I’m gonna take a break before Lou shows up.” Bradley decides finally, taking the pads off of his hands and stepping closer to you. You lift your chin, eyes on him as he invades your space to set the pads down on your forearms. “Not bad, Bambi.”

You’re left awkwardly holding them, still wearing Nat’s gloves as he steps under the ropes and drops down from the ring. Natasha takes a split second to watch him walk away, then shakes her head. Asshole.

“Ignore him,” She mumbles, shaking her head as she takes the pads from you and tugs at the velcro on your gloves. “He’s a dick to everyone that he trains. Method in the madness or whatever.”

You almost scoff. If that’s him being an asshole, you can handle that. Compared to what you just walked away from, this is a playground fight. You can handle your own here. Especially with her to back you up. You smile softly at you new friend.

“Maybe next time, I could practice with just you?” You suggest gently. Natasha nods, smiling back at you.

Bradley whistles as he tucks himself back into his shorts, stepping away from the urinal and walking over to the sink. He wets his hands, then soap, then washes. The soap in here is cheap and never lathers right, but that’s Mav’s department. Bradley couldn’t care less about this kind of crap.

He looks at himself in the mirror above the sink, wiping his hands on his shorts and running his fingers through his hair. His eyes skim along the long, jagged split in the mirror. Somebody should probably get that fixed.

“Now you listen to me, dickhead,” Natasha starts, unfazed as the door slams into the wall. Bradley flinches, eyes going wide.

“Nat, this is the men’s room!” He protests, turning around to face her, eyes going wide. She continues towards him as the door swings shut again, pointing her finger into his chest. Bradley stares down at her, confused.

“Don’t fuck around with her like that. It’s not what she needs right now.” She wants him seriously, looking up at him, eyes narrowed. She might be half his size, but she has shown him more than once that she’s not to be messed with.

Still, that doesn’t mean he won’t argue back.

“Are we talking about me flirting with her?” Bradley asks. He folds his arms over his chest and leans back against the counter. Natasha shoves at his chest.

“Can you just be normal around a girl for once in your life, please?” She huffs.

“Everyone needs sex, Nix. It’s natural.” He shrugs calmly.

“Not her — not from you,” Phoenix insists. Bradley stares at her, trying to read her face. All he knows is that Phoenix ran into you after you had dumped Jett. From what Bradley knows about Jett, he wasn’t surprised that you didn’t want to see him again to grab your stuff. He’s starting to think that there might be more to it than that. “Just don’t mess with her head right now. I think this place could be good for her, and you’re going to ruin it. So — don’t. Okay?”

“Fine, but if she comes onto me, then—“

“She won’t.” Phoenix answers, shaking her head as she turns away from him. Bradley scoffs as she pulls open the door and leaves him in peace finally.

After over a decade of friendship, Natasha has never cock-blocked him before. Sure, she has done her best to dissuade him from making some poor decisions, but nothing like this. He turns towards the mirror and frowns slightly.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that whatever went down between you and your ex-boyfriend was bad, but Bradley’s curiosity claws at him. He thinks about it.

Sad eyes, shaking hands. What came before.

Phoenix thinks that time heals. Maybe that’s what she’s trying to give you — time. Bradley disagrees. He has had plenty of time and he’s still just as angry as he was back then. Getting better doesn’t work like that, not for him.

“Shit…” You mutter softly, staring at the text. Your heart sinks.

Jake raises his eyebrows as he wipes at the back of his neck with a towel. He takes a long drink from his water bottle and lets out a heavy breath, “Everything okay, kid?”

You look up from your phone. Clearly it’s not, Jake can see that much on your face.

“Y-Yeah… yeah,” A soft shake of your head, you sigh and close your eyes. Do not cry, do not cry — don’t fucking cry. “My friend just let me down is all.”

“Anything we could help with?” Coyote asks without hesitation. Jake looks at him and scrunches his brows. This is how they always get roped into the stupidest shit. Javy smiles sincerely at you.

These guys have already done too much. You shake your head again, “No, I was just supposed to get some things from my old place today. My dog and stuff. My ex is going to be at an appointment and it’s like the one time that he’ll be out… it’s — it’s just annoying.”

“I love dogs.” Javy declares. Jake drapes the towel over his shoulder and shrugs. He knows about what happened.

“I’ve got a couple of hours free.” Jake agrees.

They’re standing side by side, both sweaty and clearly exhausted. Without looking at each other for reassurance, they offer you the same soft, sincere smiles. You stare at them.

Jake dips his hand into his pocket and pulls out his keys, “My car or yours, kid?”

Your old apartment is about a twenty minute drive, a ground floor apartment with a small space at the back of it. Jake’s brows furrow slightly as he slides out of the driver’s side of his car, “Jesus Christ — is that your dog?”

Barely listening, you fish your keys from the front pocket of your denim skirt and head for the front door. Jett’s car isn’t here and you don’t know how long you’ll have. Jake and Javy share concerned glances as you rush towards the loud, deep barking coming from the apartment. Jake winces as the door springs open, preparing himself to witness a viscous attack.

Instead, a chunky tan and white pit bull launches himself into you, wiggling and wagging his tail.

“Oh, baby — Mommy missed you so much!” You coo over the fifty pound dog as he knocks you onto your butt and immediately throws himself into your lap, licking your face. Jake stares in disbelief. That cannot be the same creature that had been barking so incessantly a second ago. Not the excited blur of dog that’s all over you being called baby.

Javy laughs and heads forwards to join in. You breathe in softly and hold your hand up. He stops in his tracks.

“Hold on, he — um, he’s kind of shy about meeting new people,” You explain gently as you push yourself up onto your knees and wrap your arms around the dog to keep him against you. “If you both just come and sit, like right here, and let him sniff you, it should be okay.”

Javy obliges immediately, sitting cross-crossed a couple feet away from you, in the parking lot of the condominiums. Jake approaches slowly, uncertain as he sits beside his best friend. You smile and kiss the dog’s shoulder, slowly loosening your hold on him and letting him wander forwards.

He stalks towards the two of them, slow and cautious. Jake holds his breath. He’s never been great with dogs. Javy lifts his hand, calm and still as the dog sniffs him first.

“This is Tank.” You announce, smiling softly. Javy seems to have passed the friendship test, Tank moves on to Jake. He takes longer to decide when it comes to the tense blonde. After a few seconds of sniffing, Tank’s tail begins to wag. He presses himself into Jake’s lap, snuggling into his chest as he sticks his big head out towards Coyote.

A couple of minutes under the San-Diego sun, the four of you getting to know each other.

Jake helps you grab what you can, only the stuff that matters, while Coyote stands watch. Tank appoints himself the unofficial foreman, making sure that everyone is doing their jobs, following you from point A to B as you load Jake’s truck with as much as you can carry.

“Thanks, for helping me out with this stuff,” You say softly as Jake closes up the back of the truck bed. He turns and offers you a small, cool smile. Javy beams at his side. “I really appreciate everything you guys have done for me.”

Javy steps forwards and wraps his thick arms around you, forgetting his strength for a moment as he squeezes you tight. “We look out for each other at Bradshaw’s. Happy to help. Right, Jake?”

Jake can’t help but laugh at the concerned, half-crushed and worried look on your face. He nods and pats your shoulder as he heads for the driver’s seat. “Yes, we do. Now let’s get this guy home before he pisses on my seats.”

…

Yup

Has this been done yet ? But i want mando to rescue his fav prostitute (maybe smut👀) I know he would care about her and form a real connection. Happy birthday btw 🎉

One Last Time

A/n: Not by me, that's for sure and thank you!!! He really would, he's such a sweetie in this one, he just doesn't know how to communicate well

Warning: Smut, human trafficking (extremely hinted at), dark themes, I notice a lot of the fics with prostitute reader Mando's mean so in this one he's a sweetie, Mando being delusionally in love, Dark Fic!!!

“I’m taking you.”

You don’t look surprised; you show a hint of sadness before you compose yourself again.

You grab his hand, pressing it to your neck as if you wanted to tempt him to caress your warm skin.

Your forefinger presses against his. He feels the small disk underneath your skin. Then you angle his hand up, the tips of his fingers touching your earlobe.

They apparently have you recorded and tracked. Like an animal.

“I belong here.”

He shifts closer, the cheap material of the couch crinkling from the movement.

“What if you belonged to me?”

Instead of them.

“I don’t belong to anyone.”, you say, like you were trained to do.

He was quiet for a moment. You sat still. He liked looking at you, especially when you weren’t doing an act. Even if you couldn’t see his face, you knew he was frowning.

Your smile was too teasing, too curved. Fake.

“What if I purchase you?”

That caught you off guard. You blink before you respond in humor.

“Your silly, why would they put a price on a person? Even if I did have one, you wouldn’t be able to afford me, even with your beskar.”

He nods as if you were discussing war plans. Crossing out his options and making new ones. His thumb absentmindedly smoothing over your cheeks.

“What if I steal you away?”

Your eyes widen and you swallow thickly. He can see you think, your eyes flickering to him and the door repeatedly.

Then, as you take a breath in and look at him straight on, you present a challenge with a smirk, your eyes brightening with hope.

“That’s if you can steal me away. I doubt it. There are guards at every door, cameras at every angle the second you step out the building.”

You press a kiss to his gloved palm and sit up quickly, his hand running down your arm and to your hand. //

“Y’know, I know most of the guards actually.”

He tilts his head. He can feel heat build in his stomach at your words. He knows who they are, they don’t particularly look nice.

“They talk to the workers when we wake up for breakfast, they slack off…”

You look to him pointedly.

“I don’t even think they pay attention to their own job at that point.”, you sigh.

You hope the droids looking over the footage and sound didn’t pick up the conversation.

For a moment you think of what would happen if they caught you now. A shiver runs down your spine. They would probably ban him from the city at that point, they had the power to do that.

The fear of never seeing him again was far greater than the punishment they would deal you, you realize.

His hand squeezes lightly, stopping your fingers from trembling and directing your focus to him again.

“Do they-?”

“No. They know I’m off limits.”

He nods, staring at the way you try to smile, your eyes reddening and your lashes starting to stick together from the moisture of your welling tears.

“Good.”

You chuckle when he stands, moving to your door.

“I’ll be back soon.”

For a moment your smile falters.

The soon coming after his usual sentence was new. He was always truthful, like that one time he mentioned how he didn’t really care for the uncomfortable lingerie you were forced to wear or how he only chose you because of the way you stood as the head of the brothel showed him around the rooms.

Soon was never going to be the truth for him. He had bounties to hunt, things to take care of and he would come by every two weeks.

His initial request of having himself be your sole “client” cost him some heavy credits. You fucked him the whole night when he came back, just having found out all of your other appointments were cancelled for good, or at least as long as he comes back to pay the next time he returned back for services.

He knew he would be gone, he never lied to you. So the soon was peculiar. You smile genuinely when he reaches for you one last time, urging you to stand and dismiss him.

His helmet makes you shiver, he started bumping heads with you whenever he left two months ago. He said it was like a goodbye kiss, and for once, in a long time, you were the one slightly swooning.

You willed the joyful tears in until you shut the door, collapsing into yourself in a heap on the floor.

They don’t care if you cried after your customers left, they just didn’t want the loose threads to show when the services were being given.

——————————

He lied to you.

The two weeks were up, you cringed when they handed you a tablet, names upon names of clients scheduled for the next week.

You trusted, you gave your companionship to a man whose face you've never seen. You've fantasized of a salvation, of freedom.

An inkling of trust was built when he reassured you that nothing had to happen, that he just wanted to get rid of the pin he was given in exchange for a bounty.

The 'boss' didn't care that much, especially since he kept coming back, even if his free services were up. He wanted to take up your time, give you rest from the others that would come your way.

He thought himself oh so noble, helping someone out, bringing a peace of mind.

It suddenly became something much more, one night he was pent up, tense, and heaving with energy. He had lost a bounty, some credits, but he was always on schedule for you.

You did like you were supposed to. You moved to relieve, expecting him to push you away. Preparing for him to slap your hand away softly like all of the other times, making you chuckle from the shake of his head.

You were surprised when he didn't move to remove your hand gliding up his thigh.

He didn't stop you when you reached into his pants, pressing your robe down so that you could straddle his thighs and so he could cup your breasts.

He was hooked the second you licked your hand covered in his spill. His chest heaved, his hands gripping your hips, your robe now discarded on the floor.

The thought of someone else seeing you like this made him pause. He decided then that this sight was only for him.

You guess he was like the rest. Demented in his mind games, manipulating you to think he had ever cared for you as a person.

You should have known you became an object the moment he started fucking you.

It was only a matter of time before got tired.

——————————

You lay in bed, eyes wide open, watching as the drapes to your room flowed and flapped from the wind.

You dread going to sleep only to wake up with a man that wasn't Mando coming into your bedroom. It was unfair you thought.

Why did he get your hopes up?

As you start to let your eyes droop closed you hear a tapping on your window. You choose to ignore it. But the next time was louder.

You were upset, throwing on a robe and grumbling towards the window to see what the commotion was. You hoped it wasn't those men again, throwing pebbles at windows in order to get the attention of the workers.

Your breath rushed out of your lungs. His shadow looms over the floor, the city lights blooming behind him. His hand was flat against the glass, his fingers tapping repeatedly now that you were up.

His chest fills with pride at the fact that you rush to open the frame. His hulking form squeezing through precariously. You push him inside, closing the curtains quickly.

He chuckles when you look him over, running your hands over his arms and chest, looking for signs of altercations.

"They didn't see you?", you ask, panicked.

He pats his waist, his blaster sitting nicely in his holster on his thigh.

Typically, all weapons were taken at the door, you've only seen him as bare as he could be, armor and his flight suit only. It was jarring to see how many weapons he carries on his person; you wonder how much it weighs, he was practically covered in ammunition and guns and knives.

"I took care of them."

He was dangerous you realized, a splatter of red almost glowing on his helmet. He grabs your hands, and you continue to stare, your body tense in contempt.

His helmet makes you shiver, he slouches so that your foreheads touch. He sighs.

"We need to leave."

You step back.

"We need to get the others..."

He stands straighter, he sighs again. His hands now at his sides.

"We don't have time."

"Please. I've known them for the longest, they deserve freedom too."

He nods. For a brief moment standing still with his hands on his hips. You purse your lips, moving to sit on your bed as he contemplates, most likely coming up with a plan.

"What took so long?", you ask, hating the silence.

The glint coming from his pocket makes you pause. The device in his hands was box like, probes by the sides.

He kneels before you, pressing it against your hands and when you stare down at him in question he points to your neck.

"It deactivates it, I had to search for one that pairs with yours."

From his pocket he takes out a syringe, you tense. You hated medical equipment, you hated needles. Anything to do with doctors. It was never a good sign when you had to go to the doctors.

"It hurts. Badly. It's better if you're numbed for it."

You shake your head.

"I can handle it."

His helmet tilts.

"No, you can't.", he says plainly.

His hand grips onto your shoulder, you try to push him away. The needle was getting closer to your neck, you keep on shuffling back until your body hits the headboard.

"It's for your own good."

You shake your head, his grip on your legs was solid, unmoving. He crawls over you and you close your eyes tightly, knowing you couldn't fight back even if you wanted to.

You feel a prick slightly above the bump on your neck.

For a moment you thought it was over with, and then he pressed down, the liquid now moving through the needle and making you yell out.

He shushes you. It felt like he was shoving half molten metal down your veins. You start to get drowsy, from your head to your toes and all around your body, you felt heavy.

A minute after you lay limp in your bed, he pulled the sheets over you, you could barely move your eyes, your fingers twitching to reach his hand.

He leaves you there and for a moment you think he was going to leave you in the brothel entirely, paralyzed with whatever he injected you with, feeling numb even to the sheets beneath you.

But as he raised the device up to your neck your eyes widened ever so slightly.

He was right. It would have hurt. You could feel the tingle of it, a slight prick as it turned on. You let out a breath of relief when it stopped, but then he lowered the probes to your arm, directly on top of your birth control device.

You watched as it vibrated under your skin, the same prickles you felt from your neck now on the inside of your arm.

The drug's effects were starting to work more efficiently, your eyes started drooping, your hearing getting cloudy and your fingers starting to lose sensation.

The last thing you heard was the sound of whooshing, a heat that you could feel from where you laid, crinkling with energy. His footsteps resound around the room, the door sliding open.

You hear the shouts and screams seconds after, right as you lose consciousness.

You wake in his arms, a fur blanket covering you from the cold of the underground city of Coruscant. You recognize your surroundings as a hangar, a large ship in the center, shiny and luxurious.

Your surprise gasp as the hull of the ship opened amused him, he chuckled as you grip onto his shoulders as he walks up the ramp. It was very clean, seats and amenities lining the walls of the hull, the lighting low and warm.

You pull the coat over your back as your feet touch the ground, warmed from the heater. He leads you to a seat, you yelp when you almost sink into the plush couch, it was soft, and well padded.

Suddenly the ship lurches, and you wait a few moments, the windows open and you could see as you rise to the upper levels of Coruscant. You finally see the sun and you stare until it felt as if your eyes were burning.

His hand meets your shoulder, kneading into it.

"Don't cry.", he whispers.

"You're safe now."

You smile at him, wiping tears you didn't even know were falling and chuckling.

"Thank you.", you stutter through emotion.

He likes the way you smile, and he likes the way you smile because of him.

——————————

You stare into the mirror. It was strange to see the bandage on your neck, you didn't even remember him taking out the chip, or the small pill shaped metal on your arm.

He told you it was better that way, the small incisions he made would heal quickly, if you were conscience, you would have risked messing him up.

The bandage was expensive, bacta patches were hard to come by, especially the good kind, but bacta shots and cream?

The cut was practically gone as you peeled off the bandage. You stare amazed at how neat the line was.

And then you look around the bathroom. It was big for a ship, some products were lined against the walls, high end shampoos and conditioners that you've seen be gifted to some of the girls at “work”.

Oils, hair masks, lotions and waxes were sprawled around the cabinets. Makeup you couldn't even recognize their uses for as well. A bottle of lube makes you chuckle.

There was even an array of options for your shower head. You tried all of the various pressures and settings, deciding on a harsher spray, wanting to rid the feeling of Coruscant off of your body.

You stay there for a while, half amazed at how the water was still running warm and trying to take your mind off of where you were before.

Your anxiety raises when you think or where you were going to travel to, where you would stay, and what if they somehow found you again.

He startles you as the door slides open. You clutch your chest, hiding and for a brief moment, shaking your head from the way your heart beats out of its chest.

He starts taking pieces of his armor off, you let your hands fall to your sides. He was wordless whenever he came into your room. Most of the talking was done after the deed was done.

You step from the shower, starting to lift your legs out of the tub but he lifts his hand for you to stop. You look at him quizzically.

You appreciated that about him. He liked you to feel good too, comfortable. He was the only person to make you cum, the only one that gets turned on by hearing your moan and squirm in his hold.

He was good with his hands that was for sure, he even gave you a pair of his gloves once. Something to remember him by as you got lonely.

You were concerned when he stood in front of you, unmoving, his hands flexing nervously.

When you extend your hand he takes it, you've done this several times, calming someone nervous, someone unsure of themselves. You didn't expect yourself to do this for him.

"You know me. Don't be nervous."

He nods stiffly, and he does the unexpected. Using the hand that was held in your own he lifts his helmet. You stare and suddenly he feels younger, worrying if his crush likes his haircut, if you like the way his nose sloped downwards into his plush lips, if you thought the patches of grey on his beard were attractive or not.

Your eyes narrow and he feels vulnerable, much more vulnerable than you even if you were the one completely naked, at least he still had his underwear on.

"What if I told you I expected you to be orange."

He tilts his head down, smiling sheepishly, his full head of hair attracting your hand like a magnet. It was soft, of course it would be if he wore the helmet all the time.

Your hand tightens over his arm, pulling him in to stand at the edge of the tub.

"Who knew I got lucky with such a looker."

He finally sees you, without a filter, without cameras or the helmet. He couldn't help but lean in, to feel your lips against his even if he didn't really know how to kiss.

But you stop him, a finger on his lips, tapping playfully. He didn't see the way you swallowed harshly, too focused on the way you smiled teasingly.

Of course, why would you want your first kiss to be in a random ship's fresher. How unromantic of him.

"No kissing, Mando."

"Din.", he corrects breathily. "Din Djarin. T-that's my name."

You cup his cheek lovingly. He was giving you the eyes, it was strange. It was making your heart race ever so slightly. Maybe, you thought, this last time before he left you god knows where, should be special.

You kiss right next to his lips, pushing down his boxers, and gripping his cock. He kicks off the fabric with his foot before getting in the tub, crowding your towards the wall, having a spray of water cascade over your both as you kiss down his throat.

You were surprised when he took the lead, holding your hips against his and leaning down to nip at your jaw. His tongue lays flat against your skin, drinking in the water that slides down your neck and to your clavicle.

It was holy. It touched your skin, making a path down towards your breasts and to the peaks of your nubs.

He sucks it in greedily, moaning as if he were drinking water for the first time, thirsty for more. Your taste was intoxicating, it was making him feral at the thought of sucking something else from your nipples.

More sweet and nutty than the floral taste of your skin.

Now that your birth control was deactivated, he thinks that in the next few months, it could be possible.

He moves further down, your hands caressing through his wet locks as he bites over parts of your flesh, gripping and squeezing as he explores you with open mouthed kisses.

He gets down on his knees. He stops and stares in between your legs.

"Can I...?"

You shift but his arms around your waist keep you still.

"No one's ever... I don't know if it'll be good."

He feels many emotions at once. In one hand it's pride that he gets to be the first to have you like this, on the other it's the anger that no one had ever attempted to.

"I don't want to dissapoint you..."

In our last time you wanted to add, but he shushed you before you could speak.

He looks up at you, his palm pushing your thigh up until it was over his shoulder. You swallow thickly, feeling his breath on your folds. He licks his lips curiously.

He's never done this before, but he's seen holos, holos of men and women going down and spreading legs, kissing and sucking as if they were real lips. Making their partners shout out into the air, their backs arching and their hips twitching to their mouths.

He's seen how the crook of a finger can make someone gush mouthfuls of arousal. He wanted that for you, he wanted to do that for you.

He dreamt of the day he could finally taste you.

He shuffled forward and your back met the wall making you shiver so hard you had to grip onto his head to stabilize. You chuckle awkwardly. He was looking up at you, his head level with your mound.

His intense gaze broke and he pushed his face into you. He adjusts you upwards, making your back slide against the walls.

You were on the tips of your toes, the backs of your shoulders pressing harshly against the metal walls and your back arching, pressing your hips into his mouth so that his tongue could slide in deeper.

This was amazing you thought, all of the years of giving pleasure and just now getting it back in return because of Mando-no-Din. It made you sad, it made tears fall from your eyes from how lucky you got.

You would pray to whoever gave him the pin in the first place, get down on your knees and bow for leading the only kind soul you've ever known in your life to you.

He moans for you, for the musky taste of your slick, now spreading around his face and down his throat from the spraying water. He kneads your thigh, his other hand pressing against your ass so that he could push you closer to his face, so that he could tighten your legs around his head.

He wanted to suffocate, he only wanted to live to please you.

His fingers run over your opening and his lips wrap around your clit. When he pushes in two of his thick digits you cry out, your hands moving over his head to pulls at his locks He sucked relentlessly, furiously as he feels his scalp burn.

His hand thrusts quickly, and he licks greedily from your opening, interchanging between his mouth sucking on your clit to lapping at you as more of your arousal is scooped out with the curl of his fingers.

He hits the sensitive spot at the edge of your opening every time he flicks his hand.

Your chest was burning, your stomach tightening as he continued, your orgasm approaching like a train, hard and heavy and knocking the breath out of you.

Your whole body burned when he continued despite the way your cunt tightened around his fingers so tightly he couldn't even move, despite the way you practically threw your head back against the shower walls and gave an animalistic cry.

"Din!", you shouted. He growled at that.

A harsh suck on your swollen and overused nub finally makes your body shake uncontrollably, your voice was lost to half silent groans and the way your body was willing your lungs to stop working.

You gushed over his hand, the lower half of his chest covered in you. He licked what he could, the water washing off most of it from his chest.

He stares at your pussy, amazed. It was so swollen and you were still twitching. Even as he moved your thigh off his shoulder and gently put you to your feet, he could still taste you in his mouth.

He hummed from the way you clutched onto his shoulders, shaking and only able to stand for so long before your legs gave out and he had to lift your legs up and around his waist.

He holds you, angling the showerhead against your back and head so that you wouldn't get cold.

Your hot breaths against his neck made him shiver. You chuckle when you stop shaking, finally able to take a full breath in without panting.

He presses you against the wall again, your legs still tightly wound against his waist, your pussy rubbing against his cockhead, hard and aching.

He groans when you shift against the wall, reaching to the base of his cock and angling towards your opening. When you tighten your legs he groans, simultaneously pushing himself into you as your ankles lock together.

You stay like that, leaning most of your weight against the wall, reaching for bottles of shampoo and conditioner and massaging it into his scalp.

He moans every now and then, fighting the urge to bury his head back in your neck when you pull him back to rinse off his head with a smirk.

You wash him with a sponge, moaning softly and stopping to close your eyes and rock gently against him every now and then.

"Fuck, Din, you've always been huge.", you murmur, catching your breath against his collarbone.

He thrusts when you rinse him off completely, getting lost in the way you moan his name so sweetly, the way you claw at his back and clench down tightly.

The water stops, already run out and you don't even notice from the steam surrounding you, both of your bodies producing enough heat to keep you warm.

His thumb lazily traces around your folds, moving over your clit when you bite into his shoulder, sucking bruises after your, this time less powerful, orgasm.

He grunts, pushing as deep as he could, your hips flush against each other as he cums for what feels like minutes.

You both catch your breath. You rub his back and rest your head against his shoulder as he keeps you plugged with his cock.

“I love you.”, he moans, kissing the side of your head.

Your hands tighten around him as he moves, curling around the back of his neck.

You moan lightly from the way you bounce lightly on his cock as he carries you to a room, as spacious as the bathroom and just as full of goodies you didn't know the uses for.

He was emotional you assured yourself, he just came in you without protection, your taste probably still on his tongue. It was just an overdose of oxytocin running through his body. Of affection.

He didn't mean it.

“Flattered.”, you murmur. He chuckles while lying down with you on top of him. A small oof coming from your lips as he adjusts on the bed.

His hands wound themselves around you and as you finally dried amongst the warm air, he pulled the sheets up your body, covering you both completely with the scent of cleanliness.

Your head rests against his chest, your stomach on his.

You didn’t do cuddles. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t before. But now, with Din holding you close, feeling his breath as his chest lifted and fell, you think you liked them.

——————————

It was strange seeing him with his armor again. You felt honored, as if you knew a secret no one else did. But when he led you outside, wearing clothes that fit you perfectly and that were of the finest quality you've ever seen, you thought he was jesting you.

Of all places to dump you in, he decided that Tatooine was where you belonged?

Just as you were about to plead for him to at least take you to the planet over a short woman with a strong mane of curly hair pops out behind a pile of crates, small droids following behind her.

"Take this piece of space trash out of my hangar Mando!"

She stalks to him with a wrench in her hand, but stops when she sees you, slightly behind him and sticking close to his side.

"Oh not you sweetheart. That."

She points to the ship; you nod as if you understood.

"What happened to the starfighter?"

She gasps, not allowing him to speak. He sighs.

"Don't tell me it was incinerated by the imperials again."

You turn, clutching his arm in worry.

"Imperials?"

He turns between you both quickly, stuttering.

"No. It's fine. I just have special cargo at the moment."

She looks between you both, your hand lightly on his forearm and his chest puffing beside you.

"aaah. I see."

She eyes you up and down and you shift on your feet, feeling nervous.

He told you he was going to introduce you to one of his friends, someone who was going to help you. He also said that she knows about you. How much is what you worry about.

She turns suddenly, shouting over her shoulder about a gift she had for a green baby? and that she had to scrounge around for it.

You look back at him, and he shrugs shaking his head.

She came back, procuring a small doll and shoving it into his arms as the tiny droids dragged you by the pants to the side, a small door sliding open and revealing a room.

It lifts its arms, as if shouting 'ta da'. You smile softly, imaging a life here. At least the start of it.

You think of maybe learning a few things from Peli, start working along with her, maybe expand to other towns in Tatooine.

Your heart warms at the prospect of friends, maybe finding someone to spend your life with. Someone kind and caring. Someone who didn't see you as an object.

That would be nice, you think.

Peli shouts your name. You walk over to them, Din was discussing something with her, expressing himself with his hands clasped together in front of him as if he were explaining something to a child.

You chuckle when she waves her hand, pulling you roughly by the arm to her side.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll take care of her, alright?"

You chuckle, she was growing on you.

But then she let go of your arm and Din stepped forward, his hands placed on your waist and pulling you forward. You look up at him, your brows furrowed. The way he was holding you was intimate.

"Din, what-"

His helmet made you shiver, he stays still against you for a while, holding you close. He backed away slightly, his hands caressing over your arms.

His hand lands heavily on your shoulder, Peli was watching intently.

"You'll be safe here. I'll come back once I finish preparing our home for your arrival.”

Our?

Your head perks up at that. You look up confused. His words repeated in your head. Our... home?

But he was a client. A friend, someone you trusted. That was all he was, you thought he knew that too.

You repaid him for rescuing you in the shower, you didn't think that you owed him anything after that. You wanted a normal life, with normal friends and a normal spouse and normal kids.

Surely he didn't think you would stay with him after everything that happened. After everything it seemed he was dealing with in his own life.

His palm covers your cheek, his thumb rubbing over it lovingly.

You smile, he was too lovesick to realize it was the same face you made when you were attending other clients. He leaves with a nod to Peli, his hand sliding down your arms and squeezing your hand.

She gives you a once over when his ship was finally out of sight. You looked dazed, you were probably tired. And by the crease of your eyebrows when he mentioned home, you were out of the loop.

“He lives on a planet near Mandalore. That’s where he’s taking you. Your going to meet his son, Grogu..”

Son?

Now you were even more confused. Everyone knew about him and his son, they practically became legend.

“You don’t know who he is, do you?”

You shake your head. She sighs exasperated.

“He’s the most powerful mandalorian in the galaxy. He’s their ruler.”, she says proudly.

He was her friend and he saved her life maybe once or twice. She also liked to boast that she practically knew royalty.

“I thought he was a bounty hunter, he told me he was a bounty hunter. That was the reason he could afford-…”

“Oh, he is. But it’s mostly for sport now.”

You stay quiet.

“He talks about you all of the time. This woman he met that makes his heart squeeze- my words not his- he’s not the sentimental type, at least not like that.”

You seemed fidgety, your legs shifted, you fiddled with your hands. You were cute she thought. You easily flustered.

“You wanna know something?”

She didn’t look to you for a response.

“He told me once that he thought you would be a good queen.”

Your heart stopped, your eyes were watering.

“Aw don’t cry! I hate to ruin the surprise, it’s just I heard so much about you! I couldn’t help it, I’m excited.”

You smile, wiping your face, forcing yourself to appear content.

“He said he’ll make you the most beautiful wedding too. You two will make such cute babies afterwards, I’ll even lend you the nurse droid I just fixed up. It’s in the back actually let me go get it.”

She scurries to a storage room full of scraps and metal, leaving you standing and looking up to the sky, wondering how the hell you were supposed to manage so many surprises at once.

——————————

A/n: I like the idea of Din just going to tatooine and spilling his life to Peli, failing to mention that he met this really stelar woman in an illegal brothel 💀

Probably blushing and talking it up about future baby names and his entire imaginary wedding in one night half drunk

I’ll write a fic about it or sm i don’t know I need ideas for Din being vulnerable and talking about his love life

Peli still offers to babysit even when Din said he wanted a whole army of children; she thinks they’ll come out the womb with full beskar armor low key and thinks that would be super cute