Summary: Whatever you expected from your life when you were a child, dragging a barely alive clone through a forest hadn’t been anywhere on your bingo card. Still, this is the hand you were dealt, so this is the hand you’re going to play.
Pairing: Hints of Pre Tech x F!Reader x Phee
Word Count: 2451
Warnings: some violence, but not a lot. Reader is called Honey as a nickname. Reader described as having long purple hair.
A/N: None of my requests sparked any ideas this morning, so I decided to write something else instead. Sorry if Tech is OOC, I've never seen TBB. I hope you all like it anyway!
Click HERE to be added to my taglist
You wince as you trip over a particularly large stick. You manage to stay on your feet, though it’s a near thing. And it’s not helped, at all, by the man slung over your shoulder.
His breath is hot against your neck, and though it’s uncomfortable, you’re glad for it. It means he’s still alive. It means he hasn’t succumbed to his injuries yet.
Carefully, and with great difficulty, you adjust him in the hopes that he’ll stop hurting your shoulder if you redistribute his weight, but there’s only so much you can do.
You’re just not strong enough to carry him properly.
And you’re not tall enough for it either.
You use the sleeve of your shirt to wipe some sweat from your brow and look at the forest stretching in front of you. “Okay,” You whisper, more to yourself than to the man slung over your shoulder, “Okay. Just a little more. Just a little further.”
You take a deep breath to steel your nerves, and then you start walking again.
You walk until your legs start burning, and you keep going. You walk until your feet start throbbing, and you still don’t stop. You walk as the sun sets, and you walk as the moon creeps across the sky.
You only stop when you reach a massive lake. And even then, you aren’t able to stop. Even though your body is screaming at you. Even though all you want to do is lay down and sleep.
You can’t.
You lay your friend on the ground, resting his head on your folded jacket, and you check to make sure that he’s still stable enough. As soon as you’re sure that he’s not going to pass when you’re not paying attention for a moment, you busy yourself with making a small fire, and fashion a rough campfire tripod with some sticks found around your campsite.
You’ve never been so grateful in your life that your grandparents and parents were so extreme about making sure that you knew how to survive with the bare minimum.
You collect some water from the lake and set the kettle over the fire to boil the water, and once you’re sure that it’s not going to fall into the fire, you turn your attention back to the clone.
It looks like he fell from a great height, the fact that he’s alive is a miracle, based on what injuries you can see. You’re not a medic, or a doctor, but you have a first aid kit and a recent first responder’s first aid class under your belt, so you’re going to try and help him.
Slowly, carefully, you start removing his armor. You need to see the full extent of his injuries before you can try to help him. And, as more and more of him is exposed from under the armor, you’re shocked to see that he’s not in half as bad condition as his armor made it look like.
Oh, sure. He’s still badly hurt, but it could have been so much worse.
Maybe? Clone armor is like airbags?
You glance at the plate in your hand for a moment and then set it to the side. Maybe less airbags, and more like a helmet. The helmet is designed to protect you if you’re in an accident, right? So maybe his armor does the same thing.
Or he’s a breathing miracle.
You pull your first aid kit out of your hip pouch and pull out the trauma scissors so you’re able to cut off the material of his shirt, uttering quiet apologies for ruining his clothes even more than they’re already ruined.
Then you pull the boiling water off the fire and let it cool as you start preparing the bacta gel.
It’s annoying, but you have to mix the bacta yourself, rather than it coming already prepared. It means it keeps longer, but it’s such a gross feeling to mix yourself.
By the time the bacta is mixed, the water is cool enough that you’re able to use it to clean his bruises and his cuts, before applying the bacta to both types of injuries and wrapping them with clean bandages.
It takes hours.
By the time you finish, the moon is high in the sky, and you’re fighting exhaustion with every fiber of your being. You rip off your gloves and wipe your arm across your eyes, trying to rub the exhaustion away, and then open the small packet that holds the shock blanket. You shake it out, and then drape it over the lower part of his body, and then turn back to the makeshift camp.
You’ll get a couple of hours of sleep, and then start walking again. You’re sure you can use the blanket to make some kind of modesty toga for him, and maybe, without the armor, carrying him won’t hurt so much.
You can only hope.
At this point, you’re pretty sure that your bruises have bruises.
Tech wakes up.
This is a surprising revelation, seeing as he is 99% positive that his actions should have gotten him killed.
He is surprised, but not displeased with the idea of being alive. Being alive is much better than the alternative.
He takes a moment to take stock of his situation. He seems to be lying on the ground, rocks are digging into his back and the back of his legs. His armor appears to have been removed by someone, likely for emergency medical treatment.
His pain level is…tolerable. Uncomfortable, but not incapacitating.
All in all, he could be in worse shape.
He could be in better shape, too. But as the alternative is death, he is okay with it.
Tech opens his eyes, and he frowns. Right, his glasses wouldn’t have survived the fall. But his eyesight isn’t so bad that he’s not able to make out some things.
Namely, the sun is high in the sky, and he appears to be in some kind of forest. He can hear waves and makes the logical conclusion that he must be on the shore of a lake, or a pond, perhaps. He is not able to hear any running water, from a river, so he is not sure.
Hopefully, the person who saved him can answer that better.
“Go away!” Tech pauses when he hears a voice. Young sounding, though definitely an adult based on the pitch, and female. “Leave us alone.” Her voice pitches higher as if she’s afraid of something…or someone.
“Aww, what’s wrong pretty thing?” The person who replies is male, and there is a distinctive hint of violence in his voice, “Little thing like you, all alone in the woods? Don’t worry, I can take care of you.”
“I said, leave!” Slowly Tech sits up when he hears the woman take a step back.
“Why would I—” The man pauses, and then he laughs, “Well now, is that a clone? What a treat. I’ve always wanted to kill one.”
“What! No! Stay away from him!”
Tech grimaces as he tries to get to his feet. It hurts. Now that he’s moving, it hurts a lot. But then he hears the sound of flesh striking flesh, a sharp female cry of pain, and then a male snarl of rage.
“You fucking bitch! You stabbed me!”
The woman, a slight woman with long hair, and wearing what looks like hiking clothes, is standing defensively in front of him, a hunting knife held in a reverse grip in one hand.
Her stance is solid, and she seems comfortable with the blade. Though the stance is different from what he learned. Self-defense, then. Rather than a purely offensive fighting style.
He pushes himself to his feet and limps over to her, taking the knife from her hand with little resistance, “Let me.”
“You should be resting,”
“Even injured and barely able to see, I am still more than capable of this.”
Tech feels her eyes on him, “Be careful,” She finally says, “I saw a blaster under his shirt.”
“Noted.” Tech probably shouldn’t find it as amusing as he does that the man, built like Wrecker in size but nothing else, looks at him, and then at the woman standing slightly behind him, and then turns and flees.
The woman next to him huffs out an annoyed breath, “What a coward,” and then she turns to look at him, “You need to lay back down.”
“I am fine.”
“You’re not. And we both know it.” She folds her arms over her chest and widens her stance, “Listen, I called my uncle, he has a lake house not far from here. He’s going to bring his boat to come and get us.”
“Your uncle has a boat and a lake house?”
“My uncle is a doctor and my aunt is a corporate lawyer. They’re richer than God.” She takes a step toward him and takes her knife back, “So, please, lay down until he can make sure that you’re not going to keel over?”
“I suppose I can do that.”
With her help, Tech lays back down on the sand and gets covered with the blanket. He does not actually mean to fall asleep, but he finds himself drifting off without his permission.
The next time Tech opens his eyes, he’s lying on a soft bed and he’s not in any more pain. It takes him less than half a minute to determine that he must be in the uncle’s lakehouse.
He sits up and notices a pair of glasses sitting on the side table, and when he pulls them on he heaves a sigh of relief. They’re prescription strength, which means the world is no longer blurry.
Tech only gets a moment to examine the room (neat, clean, and pine-scented) when the door clicks open, and a slender man with salt-and-pepper hair enters the room.
He glances at Tech, and then smiles, “Ah, you’re awake. Good. How are you feeling? Any pain?”
Tech considers the doctor’s question for a moment, “There is some pain in my hips and upper back.”
The doctor nods, “That makes sense.” He crosses the room and sits in a chair not far from the bed, “Your injuries were very severe, young man. The fact that you’re alive is, frankly, a miracle. Honey, my niece who found you, did what she could but some of the damage was more than she could treat.”
“What kind of damage?” Tech asks.
“You have cybernetics in your left hip and your right shoulder.” The doctor says, “Honestly, the fact that you were able to walk on that leg at all should have been impossible.”
Tech frowns thoughtfully, “Your niece, Honey, was going to get hurt by someone bigger than her. I had to do something.”
The doctor smiles at him, “I know. She told me. And I, we, appreciate it, Mister—?”
“Tech. Just Tech.”
“Tech,” The doctor nods, “I’ll go and get her, she’s been worried sick about you.” He pauses and then presses a finger against his lips, “Don’t tell her I said that, she’ll get cross.”
Tech’s lips quirk up into a tiny smile, “Of course.”
The doctor leaves the room, and a moment later the woman, Honey, steps into the room. Now that he has glasses and can see her properly, Tech realizes that she is pretty.
She’s no supermodel, but she is very pleasant to look at.
Her long hair is purple, but it’s pulled into a braid at the moment. She also has several facial piercings, that he hadn’t noticed when he wasn’t wearing his glasses.
“My uncle says your name is Tech?” She asks as she drops into the chair that her uncle abandoned.
“It is. And your name is Honey?”
Her face flushes, “It’s a nickname—”
An older woman with a head full of white hair pokes her head into the room, “She got her nickname when she was about four, and she was adamant that she was going to ‘find the land of milk and honey’. Our little adventurer~”
“Please go away,” Honey groans as she presses her face into her hands.
The woman, Honey’s aunt most likely, laughs and pulls out of the room.
“...did you ever find it?” Tech asks.
She frowns at him, “It’s not real, Tech. It’s just a story.”
“Just because you have not found it, does not mean it is not real.” Tech counters.
A small grin crosses her face, “You know, you’re the first person who’s not laughed when they heard that.”
“You saved my life. It would be rude of me to laugh at you.” Tech replies, “Thank you, by the way. You didn’t have to.”
Honey huffs, “Yeah, well.” She shrugs and looks away from him, and Tech realizes that she doesn’t take gratitude very well, “I was out there anyway.”
“You must have lost a lot of gear to help me.”
She shrugs again, “People are more important than things. Things can always be replaced.”
“There are a lot of people who do not think that applies to clones.”
“A lot of people are stupid. You’re obviously a person. Just like every other test-tube baby.”
He likes her, Tech realizes with a start. She’s brash and stubborn, and she knows where she stands on things that are important to her. She’s the type of person who has hundreds of little hills that she has chosen to die on…and he finds himself liking that about her. He thinks that Phee will like her too.
Introducing them will be fun.
“I would like to call my brothers if I can,” Tech says, so suddenly that she starts, “And then, I would like to call a…friend.”
“Of course, you can call who you like. I’ll go and grab a comm—”
“And then I would like to help you look for this land.” Tech continues.
She laughs softly, “I’m telling you, it’s not real.”
“So it will be an adventure.”
She tosses him a lopsided grin, “Alright then, I do like adventure.” Honey then stands and hurries out of the room, “I’ll get you a comm, I’ll be back in a bit.”
Tech settles back on the bed, already thinking of what he is going to say to his brothers and Phee. He hopes they won’t be too upset with him for allowing himself to fall…though he knows that they will.
That is alright. It just means that they love him.
He glances to the door as Honey runs back into the room, a comm clutched in her hand and her arms full of maps and books, her face flush with excitement and her eyes glittering.
Summary: Whatever you expected from your life when you were a child, dragging a barely alive clone through a forest hadn’t been anywhere on your bingo card. Still, this is the hand you were dealt, so this is the hand you’re going to play.
Pairing: Hints of Pre Tech x F!Reader x Phee
Word Count: 2451
Warnings: some violence, but not a lot. Reader is called Honey as a nickname. Reader described as having long purple hair.
A/N: None of my requests sparked any ideas this morning, so I decided to write something else instead. Sorry if Tech is OOC, I've never seen TBB. I hope you all like it anyway!
Click HERE to be added to my taglist
You wince as you trip over a particularly large stick. You manage to stay on your feet, though it’s a near thing. And it’s not helped, at all, by the man slung over your shoulder.
His breath is hot against your neck, and though it’s uncomfortable, you’re glad for it. It means he’s still alive. It means he hasn’t succumbed to his injuries yet.
Carefully, and with great difficulty, you adjust him in the hopes that he’ll stop hurting your shoulder if you redistribute his weight, but there’s only so much you can do.
You’re just not strong enough to carry him properly.
And you’re not tall enough for it either.
You use the sleeve of your shirt to wipe some sweat from your brow and look at the forest stretching in front of you. “Okay,” You whisper, more to yourself than to the man slung over your shoulder, “Okay. Just a little more. Just a little further.”
You take a deep breath to steel your nerves, and then you start walking again.
You walk until your legs start burning, and you keep going. You walk until your feet start throbbing, and you still don’t stop. You walk as the sun sets, and you walk as the moon creeps across the sky.
You only stop when you reach a massive lake. And even then, you aren’t able to stop. Even though your body is screaming at you. Even though all you want to do is lay down and sleep.
You can’t.
You lay your friend on the ground, resting his head on your folded jacket, and you check to make sure that he’s still stable enough. As soon as you’re sure that he’s not going to pass when you’re not paying attention for a moment, you busy yourself with making a small fire, and fashion a rough campfire tripod with some sticks found around your campsite.
You’ve never been so grateful in your life that your grandparents and parents were so extreme about making sure that you knew how to survive with the bare minimum.
You collect some water from the lake and set the kettle over the fire to boil the water, and once you’re sure that it’s not going to fall into the fire, you turn your attention back to the clone.
It looks like he fell from a great height, the fact that he’s alive is a miracle, based on what injuries you can see. You’re not a medic, or a doctor, but you have a first aid kit and a recent first responder’s first aid class under your belt, so you’re going to try and help him.
Slowly, carefully, you start removing his armor. You need to see the full extent of his injuries before you can try to help him. And, as more and more of him is exposed from under the armor, you’re shocked to see that he’s not in half as bad condition as his armor made it look like.
Oh, sure. He’s still badly hurt, but it could have been so much worse.
Maybe? Clone armor is like airbags?
You glance at the plate in your hand for a moment and then set it to the side. Maybe less airbags, and more like a helmet. The helmet is designed to protect you if you’re in an accident, right? So maybe his armor does the same thing.
Or he’s a breathing miracle.
You pull your first aid kit out of your hip pouch and pull out the trauma scissors so you’re able to cut off the material of his shirt, uttering quiet apologies for ruining his clothes even more than they’re already ruined.
Then you pull the boiling water off the fire and let it cool as you start preparing the bacta gel.
It’s annoying, but you have to mix the bacta yourself, rather than it coming already prepared. It means it keeps longer, but it’s such a gross feeling to mix yourself.
By the time the bacta is mixed, the water is cool enough that you’re able to use it to clean his bruises and his cuts, before applying the bacta to both types of injuries and wrapping them with clean bandages.
It takes hours.
By the time you finish, the moon is high in the sky, and you’re fighting exhaustion with every fiber of your being. You rip off your gloves and wipe your arm across your eyes, trying to rub the exhaustion away, and then open the small packet that holds the shock blanket. You shake it out, and then drape it over the lower part of his body, and then turn back to the makeshift camp.
You’ll get a couple of hours of sleep, and then start walking again. You’re sure you can use the blanket to make some kind of modesty toga for him, and maybe, without the armor, carrying him won’t hurt so much.
You can only hope.
At this point, you’re pretty sure that your bruises have bruises.
Tech wakes up.
This is a surprising revelation, seeing as he is 99% positive that his actions should have gotten him killed.
He is surprised, but not displeased with the idea of being alive. Being alive is much better than the alternative.
He takes a moment to take stock of his situation. He seems to be lying on the ground, rocks are digging into his back and the back of his legs. His armor appears to have been removed by someone, likely for emergency medical treatment.
His pain level is…tolerable. Uncomfortable, but not incapacitating.
All in all, he could be in worse shape.
He could be in better shape, too. But as the alternative is death, he is okay with it.
Tech opens his eyes, and he frowns. Right, his glasses wouldn’t have survived the fall. But his eyesight isn’t so bad that he’s not able to make out some things.
Namely, the sun is high in the sky, and he appears to be in some kind of forest. He can hear waves and makes the logical conclusion that he must be on the shore of a lake, or a pond, perhaps. He is not able to hear any running water, from a river, so he is not sure.
Hopefully, the person who saved him can answer that better.
“Go away!” Tech pauses when he hears a voice. Young sounding, though definitely an adult based on the pitch, and female. “Leave us alone.” Her voice pitches higher as if she’s afraid of something…or someone.
“Aww, what’s wrong pretty thing?” The person who replies is male, and there is a distinctive hint of violence in his voice, “Little thing like you, all alone in the woods? Don’t worry, I can take care of you.”
“I said, leave!” Slowly Tech sits up when he hears the woman take a step back.
“Why would I—” The man pauses, and then he laughs, “Well now, is that a clone? What a treat. I’ve always wanted to kill one.”
“What! No! Stay away from him!”
Tech grimaces as he tries to get to his feet. It hurts. Now that he’s moving, it hurts a lot. But then he hears the sound of flesh striking flesh, a sharp female cry of pain, and then a male snarl of rage.
“You fucking bitch! You stabbed me!”
The woman, a slight woman with long hair, and wearing what looks like hiking clothes, is standing defensively in front of him, a hunting knife held in a reverse grip in one hand.
Her stance is solid, and she seems comfortable with the blade. Though the stance is different from what he learned. Self-defense, then. Rather than a purely offensive fighting style.
He pushes himself to his feet and limps over to her, taking the knife from her hand with little resistance, “Let me.”
“You should be resting,”
“Even injured and barely able to see, I am still more than capable of this.”
Tech feels her eyes on him, “Be careful,” She finally says, “I saw a blaster under his shirt.”
“Noted.” Tech probably shouldn’t find it as amusing as he does that the man, built like Wrecker in size but nothing else, looks at him, and then at the woman standing slightly behind him, and then turns and flees.
The woman next to him huffs out an annoyed breath, “What a coward,” and then she turns to look at him, “You need to lay back down.”
“I am fine.”
“You’re not. And we both know it.” She folds her arms over her chest and widens her stance, “Listen, I called my uncle, he has a lake house not far from here. He’s going to bring his boat to come and get us.”
“Your uncle has a boat and a lake house?”
“My uncle is a doctor and my aunt is a corporate lawyer. They’re richer than God.” She takes a step toward him and takes her knife back, “So, please, lay down until he can make sure that you’re not going to keel over?”
“I suppose I can do that.”
With her help, Tech lays back down on the sand and gets covered with the blanket. He does not actually mean to fall asleep, but he finds himself drifting off without his permission.
The next time Tech opens his eyes, he’s lying on a soft bed and he’s not in any more pain. It takes him less than half a minute to determine that he must be in the uncle’s lakehouse.
He sits up and notices a pair of glasses sitting on the side table, and when he pulls them on he heaves a sigh of relief. They’re prescription strength, which means the world is no longer blurry.
Tech only gets a moment to examine the room (neat, clean, and pine-scented) when the door clicks open, and a slender man with salt-and-pepper hair enters the room.
He glances at Tech, and then smiles, “Ah, you’re awake. Good. How are you feeling? Any pain?”
Tech considers the doctor’s question for a moment, “There is some pain in my hips and upper back.”
The doctor nods, “That makes sense.” He crosses the room and sits in a chair not far from the bed, “Your injuries were very severe, young man. The fact that you’re alive is, frankly, a miracle. Honey, my niece who found you, did what she could but some of the damage was more than she could treat.”
“What kind of damage?” Tech asks.
“You have cybernetics in your left hip and your right shoulder.” The doctor says, “Honestly, the fact that you were able to walk on that leg at all should have been impossible.”
Tech frowns thoughtfully, “Your niece, Honey, was going to get hurt by someone bigger than her. I had to do something.”
The doctor smiles at him, “I know. She told me. And I, we, appreciate it, Mister—?”
“Tech. Just Tech.”
“Tech,” The doctor nods, “I’ll go and get her, she’s been worried sick about you.” He pauses and then presses a finger against his lips, “Don’t tell her I said that, she’ll get cross.”
Tech’s lips quirk up into a tiny smile, “Of course.”
The doctor leaves the room, and a moment later the woman, Honey, steps into the room. Now that he has glasses and can see her properly, Tech realizes that she is pretty.
She’s no supermodel, but she is very pleasant to look at.
Her long hair is purple, but it’s pulled into a braid at the moment. She also has several facial piercings, that he hadn’t noticed when he wasn’t wearing his glasses.
“My uncle says your name is Tech?” She asks as she drops into the chair that her uncle abandoned.
“It is. And your name is Honey?”
Her face flushes, “It’s a nickname—”
An older woman with a head full of white hair pokes her head into the room, “She got her nickname when she was about four, and she was adamant that she was going to ‘find the land of milk and honey’. Our little adventurer~”
“Please go away,” Honey groans as she presses her face into her hands.
The woman, Honey’s aunt most likely, laughs and pulls out of the room.
“...did you ever find it?” Tech asks.
She frowns at him, “It’s not real, Tech. It’s just a story.”
“Just because you have not found it, does not mean it is not real.” Tech counters.
A small grin crosses her face, “You know, you’re the first person who’s not laughed when they heard that.”
“You saved my life. It would be rude of me to laugh at you.” Tech replies, “Thank you, by the way. You didn’t have to.”
Honey huffs, “Yeah, well.” She shrugs and looks away from him, and Tech realizes that she doesn’t take gratitude very well, “I was out there anyway.”
“You must have lost a lot of gear to help me.”
She shrugs again, “People are more important than things. Things can always be replaced.”
“There are a lot of people who do not think that applies to clones.”
“A lot of people are stupid. You’re obviously a person. Just like every other test-tube baby.”
He likes her, Tech realizes with a start. She’s brash and stubborn, and she knows where she stands on things that are important to her. She’s the type of person who has hundreds of little hills that she has chosen to die on…and he finds himself liking that about her. He thinks that Phee will like her too.
Introducing them will be fun.
“I would like to call my brothers if I can,” Tech says, so suddenly that she starts, “And then, I would like to call a…friend.”
“Of course, you can call who you like. I’ll go and grab a comm—”
“And then I would like to help you look for this land.” Tech continues.
She laughs softly, “I’m telling you, it’s not real.”
“So it will be an adventure.”
She tosses him a lopsided grin, “Alright then, I do like adventure.” Honey then stands and hurries out of the room, “I’ll get you a comm, I’ll be back in a bit.”
Tech settles back on the bed, already thinking of what he is going to say to his brothers and Phee. He hopes they won’t be too upset with him for allowing himself to fall…though he knows that they will.
That is alright. It just means that they love him.
He glances to the door as Honey runs back into the room, a comm clutched in her hand and her arms full of maps and books, her face flush with excitement and her eyes glittering.
So, i was thinking about young Jango Fett and how he would woo a woman that isnt apart of the Mandalorian culture marry him.
Hope i gave you enough information for the story!
Love yeah!
Cultural Miscommunications
Summary: You like to think that you're friends with Jango Fett, though you desperately want more.
Pairing: Jango Fett x Reader
Word Count: 1920
Warnings: Reader goes on a bad date
Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni
A/N: I hope that this is close to what you wanted. There's not a lot out there for Mandalorian dating culture, though, admittedly, I didn't look too hard.
The first time you met Jango Fett, it was because he approached you when you were at a store. He was a visitor to the planet, and was hoping for some advice on finding something that he was looking for.
You knew, from the first glance, that he was going to be trouble. A bounty hunter, and a Mandalorian bounty hunter at that? There are easier ways to break your own heart.
Still, he was handsome and polite, and it was a step up from the way that guys normally talk to you, so you favored him with a bright smile, and offered your help. If nothing else, it would be an interesting little story to share with your friends in the future.
After all, there was no way you were ever going to see him again.
Except you did.
Multiple times that week, and the first couple of times you thought it was just a coincidence, but then you started thinking that maybe he was following you. He spoke to you only one more time during that week, the last day before he left, and he gifted you with a book, one that you had wanted to buy but hadn’t been able to afford, and he told you that it was a thank you gift, for helping him with his job.
And then he left, and you thought that that was the end of it.
Except two months later, he was back. A little more worn, a little more ragged, and with a new ding in his armor, but he greeted you with a small smile, and a question for the best place to get some quick and cheap food.
And, well, you invited yourself to his lunch. Solely because you were worried that he was going to keel over if he didn’t have a buddy to make sure that he didn’t.
He didn’t, wouldn’t, tell you about his hunt, but he was more than happy to talk to you about the planets he’s been to, and some of the weird things he’s seen as a bounty hunter. And with a little prodding, he admitted that he came back here because it was the closest, safest, planet he could get too, and he really needed to rest.
You invited him to crash on your couch, and when he argued, you insisted intensely enough that he finally agreed. You allowed him the use of your shower, and your laundry, and your kitchen, and he spent the night on the couch, listening to a newsreel on your holo.
And when you woke up the following morning, Jango was gone. But there was a note left on the kitchen table, next to a hot caf and a breakfast sandwich from the cafe down the street.
That time you were almost sure was going to be the last time you saw Jango…and it would have been, had you not ended up going on a trip with your closest friends.
And you know, you know, that you were brought along as a cover-up for your friend's hookup with her pirate boyfriend, but you did enjoy the trip to Rishi, right up until you were cornered by a different pirate group. And then Jango was there, dealing with the people threatening you with ease, and he looked just as surprised to see you as you were to see him.
Though, to be fair, he was probably more at home on Rishi than you were. And you were thrilled to see a friendly face. He, on the other hand, was furious that your friends dragged you to such a dangerous place and then left you to fend for yourself.
You ended up on Jango’s ship while he returned you to your home planet, and while he was still upset about you ending up in such a dangerous situation, he wasn’t angry at you. In fact, once he calmed down, you had several very long, and very nice, talks.
And when he dropped you off in your home city, you couldn’t stop yourself from wrapping both of your hands around one of his and asking him to come and visit again.
His response was a surprised laugh and a “we’ll see.” But you had a good feeling that he would be back. After all, you were friends now.
*****
That was almost a year ago now, and you like to think that you and Jango are pretty close. When he’s on planet, he crashes with you, always on your couch, though you’ve offered him your bed on more than one occasion. He always refuses though. No matter how exhausted he is. No matter how many times you swear that adults can share a bed without it becoming weird.
He always flashes that small smile and takes your couch.
And when he leaves, he always leaves a gift. A trinket from his most recent hunt, something he saw when he landed that he thought you might like, or, most often, food from your favorite places.
Honestly, it’s enough to turn a girl’s head.
And you’re not dating him. You’re not, as much as you’d like it. Because you don’t go places and he doesn’t touch you, and sure, he buys you stuff, but he seems totally physically uninterested in you-
But you’re not willing to give up yet.
Your friends, however, are much less patient than you are. Which is how you ended up in this situation.
This situation being dressed up in a flowy dress and your hair done up, and on a date with someone you, frankly, wouldn’t spit on if he burst into flames. It was supposed to be a girls night out with your friends, not a surprise blind date with a man who’s been crushing on you, but hasn’t had the stones to talk to you.
So here you are, at a nice, relatively low cost, restaurant with this total stranger who hasn’t taken his eyes off your chest since you sat down. You can’t even remember his name, honestly, and you’re a bit worried to order anything on his dime in case he feels entitled to anything you aren’t willing to give.
So when your comm chimes, you heave a silent sigh of relief. And when you see who’s messaging you, you have to smother a delighted smile.
“I just stopped at your apartment. Where are you?”
“I was supposed to be out on a girls night,” You reply to Jango’s curt message, “It was a trick. It’s actually a blind date.”
Jango doesn’t respond, though you know he sees your response.
“He’s been staring at my chest for the last forty minutes, and I’m too nervous to order anything because I think he’ll think that I owe him sex if I let him buy me anything.”
Jango still doesn’t respond.
“Jango?”
“The Code to your apartment is still 34790, right?”
“???Yeah???”
“Great. Where are you?”
“Saint Mocianne’s, the pasta restaurant.”
There’s no response, so you sigh and stow your comm back. You were kind of hoping that Jango would come to your rescue, but it looks like it’s no dice.
“You know, it’s rude to answer a comm while on a date, babe.”
You forcefully repress your shudder of revulsion. “Sorry. Work stuff.”
“If you were my girl you wouldn’t have to work.” And then he releases a chuckle, “Well, you’d have to work in my bed-”
“Wow. You…you just said that. Outloud. Where I can hear you.” You say flatly, “I think I’m actually repulsed.”
He opens his mouth to say something when a warm hand lands on your shoulder, “Sorry, I’m late. I needed to change.”
You turn your head and a flash of delight crosses your face. “Jango!” You stand and fling your arms around his neck, “Thank you for coming, do you have any idea what he just said to me?” You hiss in his ear.
“I heard him, mesh’la.” He rubs his hand up your spine soothingly, and then releases you, “You’re in my seat.” Jango says coldly to your wannabe date.
He sputters, “No. This is my seat, and she’s my date.”
“I was tricked into a blind date,” You grumble, “I never agreed to go on a date.” You rest your cheek against Jango’s shoulder. And while Jango always cuts a fine figure, whether in his armor or just his body suit, he’s wearing much more casual dress clothes, and he looks good enough to eat.
“What? No!” The Blind Date stands suddenly, “I was promised-”
“What?” Jango asks, his voice silky smooth, “What were you promised?”
“I…” He pauses and seems to realize exactly the danger he’s in, “Nothing.”
“Smart.” Jango turns to you, “Do you want to stay and eat here, or would you rather go somewhere else?”
“Somewhere else.” You reply immediately. He flashes a small smile at you, and places his hand on the small of your back to guide you out of the building, “You look very nice by the way, Jango.”
“I thought you’d prefer it if I didn’t ride to the rescue in my armor.” He lightly pulls you to the side as soon as you’re outside, “Are you okay?”
You hum thoughtfully, and lightly trail your hand across his chest, “I don’t know, I think your armor would have proven the point nicely.” you muse thoughtfully. And then you smile brightly at him, “He didn’t hurt me.”
“Well then, the next time I have to ride to your rescue, I’ll wear my armor.” Jango says in a low voice.
“Hopefully there won’t be a next time,” You laugh, as you slide your hand up to his shoulder, “It’s not like I’m going out of my way to go on dates with people. In spite of what my friends want.”
“Oh?”
“Well, there’s a guy I like and he’s sending really mixed signals.” You start slowly, “He’s always there, he stays at my place when he’s in town, buys me gifts and makes me feel like I’m important. But he also doesn’t take me up on any of my overtures.”
Jango blinks at you, and then he huffs out a laugh and presses his forehead against yours, “I think we’re having a cultural miscommunication.”
“How do you mean?” You ask with a frown.
“So far as I’m concerned, we’ve been dating since the day I brought you home from Rishi and you asked me to come back.” Jango trails his fingers along your cheek, “All of those gifts, courting presents.”
You stare at him, your lips parted, “Are you telling me I could have been kissing you this whole time and I didn’t know?!”
He laughs, “I’m afraid so.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” You ask, “I would have definitely been taking advantage of that! Is there anything else that I should know?”
His grin becomes impish, and he flicks the pendant hanging around your neck, “Technically, this means we’re engaged in my culture.”
You release a heavy breath, and then stand on your toes to crash your lips against his. And he responds as though he’s been waiting for you to kiss him for ages. Which, thinking about it, he probably was.
You break the kiss, though you keep yourself pressed close to him, wanting him even closer. “Will you spend the night in my bed now?” You ask him, your voice breathy.
He laughs softly, “Will you marry me?” Jango asks in return.
And you surprise even yourself when you kiss him again and say, “Yes.”
Summary: Loving Cody is easy. It is too easy, for all that he doesn’t and will never feel the same way. But, maybe you can turn your attention to someone who’s been waiting for you to see him.
Pairing: One-sided Cody x F!Reader, Pre Bly x Reader
Word Count: 1500
Warnings: Reader gets kidnapped and starved.
A/N: It was just too cold to write this morning, lol. But I've warmed up since then and I love Bly, so here it is.
Click HERE to be added to my taglist
From the day you met him, you’ve loved Cody.
You love his smile, his quiet jokes, and how you feel safe when you’re with him. You love the way his eyes crinkle when he’s genuinely happy, and the way his nose scrunches when he’s disgusted.
And he’ll never feel the same way.
Oh, you don’t doubt that he’s fond of you. He’s always happy to see you, and he enjoys how you’re happy to cook for him and his brothers, though he teases you about using them as taste testers, rather than cooking for them because you want to do something nice.
He’s protective of you, and your time, and you know he’ll never allow anyone to take advantage of you, or harm you, so long as he’s around.
But he doesn’t love you.
And it’s fine.
Really.
He doesn’t have to love you. You aren’t entitled to his love just because you loved him first. You’re happy having his affection and his friendship. You are.
Sure, some nights you lay in bed and fantasize about what-if.
What if he did love you? What if he looked at you like you look at him? What if, when you’re with him, his stomach flips and his heart clenches? What if he lays in bed and thinks about you?
Most nights, however, those thoughts turn into tears.
But, no one knows about it. The only one who knows your silent grief is your comforter, and it doesn’t tell stories.
And so, you go on day by day. Greeting Cody with bright smiles and light jokes, and when he shows up with a girlfriend, you greet her politely and make sure that she doesn’t have any food allergies, and you treat her like a friend.
Sure, maybe she doesn’t last longer than a month or, in one situation, an evening, but you’re still kind and polite.
It’s ironic, you’ve actually managed to make some friends with his exes.
And you know Cody appreciates it. He told you, once, that he was glad that you were so welcoming to the people around you, and then he continued by telling you that you’re too nice for your own good.
You can’t help how you are as a person, and so you wave off his concerns when he brings it up. It doesn’t matter, in the long run, because he has all of his brothers looking out for you.
So, you suppose, if you want to be accurate, you have to admit that he does love you. But he loves you like a friend loves a friend, not like how a man loves a woman.
At least he’s still in your life, even if it’s not how you want. You just have to take what you can get.
But, all the same, when you’re kidnapped several months later due to your friendship with several Marshal Commanders, you know that no one will come for you.
All you can do is keep your mouth shut and pretend that you don’t know what your kidnapper is asking. You can’t do much, but you can protect them at least a little.
You’re not sure how long it’s been. There’s no way to tell what time of day it is here in the cell that has been your room since you were snatched from your apartment.
It must have been at least a month. At this point someone must have noticed that you went missing, right?
It’s not like your kidnapper was subtle about snatching you, seeing as they kicked open the door and destroyed your apartment in the process of kidnapping you.
Of course, who would they send to save you? The Guard? The Police?
No one?
The idea of dying in a tiny cell so far from home, so far from the people you love most, makes you want to cry. But you stop yourself before you can start. You only get a single cup of water a day.
You can’t afford to waste it.
Just as you wrap your thin blanket around you, and are considering moving to the other side of the thin cot that has been your bed for who even knows how long, you think you hear the sound of blaster fire.
Your gaze flickers towards the door of your cell as the sound gets louder and louder.
And then, you hear a voice. Familiar in the way that all clone voices are familiar.
“Here! I found it!” You hear some scuffling from outside the door, and then what you assume is a curse in Mando’a. Then, finally, the door slides open and stays open.
The man on the other side of the door is wearing white armor with yellow markings. Familiar yellow markings.
“...Bly?”
“You’re a hard lady to find, Sugarpop.” You scrunch up your nose at the nickname. Yeah. It’s Bly. He’s the only person in the galaxy who calls you Sugarpop.
“It’s not like I did it intentionally.”
“I know.” He steps into the cell and with surprisingly gentle hands, he coaxes you to your feet, “How are you? Are you hurt anywhere?”
“...I’m hungry. And cold.”
“I bet you are. No shoes?”
“They took them so I couldn’t run away.”
“Fuckers. We should have killed them slower.”
He really shouldn’t sound so cheerful when saying that. But it doesn’t actually bother you.
“Bly?”
“Yeah, Sugarpop?”
“Can I go home now?”
He stills and then a slightly strangled laugh fall from him, “Well, you see…”
“Bly?”
“We’re not on Coruscant.” He says hurriedly, “We’re actually in the outer rim. You’ve been a guest of the Hutt Cartel for the better part of 6 months.”
You stare at him, “Six…?”
“Yeah, Sugarpop. Six.”
“...my job…my apartment?”
“Ah, well…the Jedi did what they could, but both your boss and your landlord decided that you were dead three months in and you lost both.”
“Oh.”
“But, it’ll work out!” Bly sets his hands on your shoulders, and you can almost see his brow furrow through his visor, “You’ve lost weight. A lot of weight.”
“Well…well…I probably needed to anyway…” You offer, feeling slightly numb.
“Bullshit, you were perfect.”
You blink at him again, “Thank you?”
“We’ll get you healthy again, and you can help out in the kitchen.” Bly offers cheerfully as he guides you out of the cell and lifts you over a pile of broken droids, “It’ll be great.”
“There are a lot of droids here,” You mumble, more to yourself, as you nudge something away with your foot.
“Yeah, looks like the Hutts are working with the Seppies.” Bly glances at you, “You know what, Sugarpop? I think I’m just going to carry you.”
“You don’t have to—”
He scoffs as he scoops you into his arms, “Have to? Please. I’d pay for the honor.”
You stare at him, even as you slide your arms around his neck so you feel more secure, “Bly?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you flirting with me? While rescuing me?”
He glances at you, “Yeah. I am.” Bly glances away, “Cody’s a blind idiot if he can’t see how you look at him.”
Your face burns, “I wasn’t trying to be transparent…”
“You weren’t Sugarpop. I just watch you a lot.” Lightly, he bumps his helmet against your forehead, “Just waiting for the day you look at me like that.”
Bly steps over a pile of something that was probably a person at one point, and you drop your head to his shoulder. As he walks, you go back through all of the conversations you remember having with Bly, and slowly you come to a realization.
“Bly, have you been flirting with me since we met?”
He laughs, “You’re just now noticing? Oh, Sugarpop, we need to give you lessons on being more observant.”
You huff and nudge him gently, “Don’t be mean. Humans are notoriously bad at detecting flirting.”
“Yeah, well…” He pauses for a moment to kick a door open, “Cody’s an idiot and I’m right here if you want to turn those pretty eyes on me.”
“Just like that?”
“Hey, I’m a patient guy. And it’s a long flight back to Coruscant.” He carefully sets you back on your feet and he lifts his helmet to rest on top of his head, “I think you’ll find that I’m a pretty charming guy.”
It’s at that very moment that you notice that his grin is slightly lopsided and that his eyes are a few shades lighter than Cody’s. And it almost feels like a betrayal when your stomach flips nervously.
“Is that your opinion?” You ask as you ignore the butterflies fluttering in your stomach.
His grin widens, “Nope, lots of people have that opinion.” Something in his gaze softens, and his fingers brush your cheek, “I’m glad you’re not hurt, Sugarpop.”
A tiny smile lifts your lips, “Thank you for coming to get me, Bly.”
There’s a serious glimmer in his gaze as he takes your hand and brushes his thumb across your knuckles, “Always.”
Look at how cute she is 🥹 her hands on her hips and that tired little smile. She looks like she just spent the last few hours at a PTA meeting and she’s ready to jump in a bath and knock out reading her latest romance novel (that totally doesn’t at all involve a Jedi)
blah blah star wars modern au where instead of jango being a slut and then fucking off hes a good dad and he and his wife both wanted a big family so they had loads of kids, like 22 of them (19 sons & 3 daughters) and he loves them so much and theyre all his babies and he makes time for all of them and they all live happily blah blah
Alpha-17: Do you ever get the urge to just--
Alpha-17 picks up the nearest cadet and smooches his adorable chubby cheeks several times each. Then, he sets him back down.
Jango: ...No?
Thire: Are you ok, Tenten?
Fox, dazed and confused: ...Did I just get married?
Wolffe: I don't know, but I think we should tell our trainer...
nescient (adj.): unaware, a lack of awareness/knowledge, unknown, blissfully unaware
pairing: din djarin x reader
synopsis: he didn't like you like that. there was no way he liked you like that? right?
or
din and the reader are both oblivious to the obvious
word count: 2.1k
warnings: mentions of injuries/descriptions of a blaster wound and wrapping up a wound, idiots in love, possible grammar error due to my cat walking across my keyboard multiple times, slight miscommunication, fluff
masterlist
a/n: this is my entry for the @pedrostories secret santa this year! this fic was so fun to write, and it is for @ghostofskywalker! i love the prompts that you gave, and they work perfectly with din. i hope you enjoy! happy holidays love!
do not steal my work.
credit to gif creator!
You were not happy to be on Tatooine. The last time you two had stopped here, there was sand coming out of your supplies for what seemed like rotations, and you were not looking forward to that again. On top of the blistering heat, you couldn't say it was your favorite place to be right now. Din had a knack for returning to this sandy planet though, which meant you accompanied.
"Remember your canteen this time, the last time you forgot it you nearly passed out." You called out to him as the hatch of the Crest started to open, welcoming the rays of sun into the cabin.
"Thank you, I've got it this time." He motioned to his utility belt before walking down the ramp, seeing the curly-haired woman on the other side and greeting her. You were gathering some last minute supplies you would need for this hunt, alongside some extra items you knew Din would swear he would not need, but would gladly take if offered.
That's how it was with you two--you knew each other. You'd been traveling together for so long you couldn't remember when it started, and had grown to know the other like you were one.
It was for reasons like that that you had fallen for him, though you knew he would never feel the same. It took a while to process, but you decided to show your love in the ways you knew best to cope. Taking the lead on hunts when you knew he'd been through a lot, performing maintenance on the ship when he was (finally) asleep, tending to him when he was sick, and so on.
It was all you could do, so damn it if you didn't do it well.
A familiar water flask shook you out of your thoughts, and you playfully rolled your eyes as you picked up his canteen lying by some storage crates.
You made your way outside, briefly pausing as you saw Din converse with Peli. He was truly a kind man, and though he put up the front that he did, you could see right through it. Peli noticed you then, waving to you as you made eye contact. You waved back, making your way to the two of them.
"Good afternoon Peli." You nodded to her as she did to you as you took your spot next to Din. His shoulder pauldron was brushing against your cloak as you stood, and it sent butterflies fluttering throughout your stomach.
"I was just telling Peli here how you nearly fell asleep on lookout last time we were on a hunt, and how nice it is for her to look after our ship."
Our ship.
Yeah, everything was fine. Totally, completely fine.
"Tough talk coming from the guy who's average 'lookout' more often than not results in you accidentally catching something on fire with that new jetpack of yours."
You could hear the sigh from him a mile away, the playful undertones seeping through like harmonies in a song. "It happened one time."
"Try telling that to the garden you set ablaze. The garden, which I should mention, that took cycles upon cycles to cultiva--"
"--anyways Peli, we wanted to say thank you." You turned to him and stood there agape.
"There's no way you just cut me off."
"I have no idea what you mean." You could hear that damn smirk through the modulator.
"Okay you two, take it easy for a second." Peli laughed as she disappeared for a moment. "You guys take your time on your little adventure, I will be here with a fixed ship once you're back!" She waved you off as she motioned you two to the exit, to which you gave her a nod in thanks.
As you got to the outskirts of town, you handed him his canteen. "Thought you might be needing this."
A small chuckle rose out of the Mandalorian, and you had not a clue about the smile behind his helmet.
"Off we go?" You looked at him before holding out the tracking fob, the familiar beeping bringing a weird sense of peace to you.
"Yes, mesh'la, off we go."
And if you weren't overthinking it, you could have sworn that he stared at you for a few seconds longer than normal before starting on the way.
--
The hunt had been messy. You had gotten the guy but at the cost of Din's patience and a nasty blaster shot to your arm. The whole hunt was doomed from the start, you both had now realized, but it was a little too late to fix the way things turned out.
What was currently being fixed now though was said wound. Din sat on a crate next to you as you hissed in pain, quickly jerking your arm away from the bacta spray he had in hand.
"If you stop moving then we can get this healed sooner."
"If you would just get it over with instead of taking so long a new cycle starts, maybe I wouldn't be so jumpy." You said through gritted teeth.
It was remarkable, really, how gentle he was with your wounds. The duality of the man before you, an infamous bounty hunter who was afraid to make your arm hurt worse. You tried not to think too much into it.
He ignored you as he continued. "It's already cauterized, which is the good part. The bacta spray is going to really pinch though."
You looked at his visor, imagining that you could actually see his eyes. "Yes, Din. I've gotten a blaster shot before."
He huffed in response. He went to use the spray, but his gloves kept catching on it, causing you to chuckle. He really was adorable in times like this.
"What's so funny?"
"Oh, nothing."
And then he did something that left you almost speechless.
"Oh, nothing." He mumbled under his breath, playfully mocking you.
You looked at him wide-eyed, baffled. A sense of elation lit up inside you--yes you two had gotten relatively close, but it was always you who was insinuating the jokes, poking fun at him.
You smiled so wide it hurt, the familair sense of adoration washing over you once more.
"Oh, so you've got humor now?"
He nodded shyly, before he took off his gloves. It wasn't much that he took his armor off in front of you, but on the rare occasion that he did, it made you feel honored. And even though it was just a pair of gloves, the meaning behind just this simple action meant more than a million credits.
As he reached for the spray again, the pain in your arm started to throb. You had been able to put it into the back of your mind thanks to Din's distraction, but the air had now started to turn stuffy as the pain made itself known.
"If it helps," Din started as he finally was able to take ahold of the spray. "You probably won't die from this."
Who was the man standing before you now?
"Oh, now you've got jokes too?" One of his hands grabbed your own, and it sent a shiver down your spine. The rest of your words died on your lips as his hand nervously locked into yours, and Maker you swore maybe the shot in the arm did kill you because he started to swipe his thumb over your knuckles.
His hand gave yours a quick squeeze, and before you could process it you felt a blinding pain on your arm. He set the spray down as you squeezed his hand to release some of the pain, and it was mesmerizing how he was able to gather the supplies to wrap your arm up with one hand, yet his other still rested in yours.
"If you had moved just slightly, the blaster would have pierced your heart." He spoke with a finality laced with hints of fear, one that was unbeknownst to you.
"But it didn't hit that, did it?" You huffed in response.
"You're so...frustrating sometimes, you know that?"
A laugh escaped you. "Okay? Fork spotted in kitchen. You're incredibly careless when it comes to yourself too."
His hand still held yours, and whether he was aware of it or not, he gave yours another squeeze.
"You know, Peli said something to me earlier today."
Always changing the subject, this one.
"Oh yeah? What did she say?" You took this as your cue to start rubbing his knuckles with your hand, and for a moment you hoped that maybe he felt the same.
That was impossible. You knew him, and you knew his thoughts of you well enough by now. He would never feel the same way, not in a--
"She said we act like an 'old married couple'".
You swore your heart went into your throat.
"She--an--what?"
He nodded in agreement, before taking a deep breath. The air had shifted after that proclamation, the sounds of the Crest occupying the space between you two.
"I blew her off that is. She told me to get over myself, but I--"
"Din, you're not making any sense right now. Get over yourself?"
He must have realized that your hands were still intertwined, because he took his back slowly. It seemed like he was gauging a war within himself, one that you had no clue about.
Once the winning side was announced, you saw him quickly flex his hands--a sign of nerves.
"Din?"
"She said that because I have feelings for you."
It seemed as if you grew momentary tunnel vision, the world centering into only him at that second. All other sounds muted, and you felt the blood rushing in your ears as he saw you widen your eyes.
"I told her I knew you wouldn't reciprocate, and then she told me that--"
"You have feelings for me?" You didn't even notice that you asked that question.
"Yes, haven't I been making it obvious?"
"What? No, you haven't." There was no way this was happening. "I have feelings for you too." There it was, out in the open.
A wave of relief passed through him, followed immediately by confusion. h=He took a deep breath. "You what? There's no way."
"Haven't I been obvious?" You chuckled at the irony of it all. "I gave you my best vibroblade, fixed your ship whenever you were gone, brought back gifts from excursions for you--I wouldn't have done that for just anyone." You leaned back on the crate. "I thought you knew."
"I had no idea. I thought you were aware of mine." He mimicked your action. "You're the only one I'd take off parts of my armor for, I've--" He coughed, suddenly embarrassed, "I've been trying to court you for months. Your new blaster I won for you? The mudhorn crest you bare? In my culture, that's how we ask for one's hand."
You smiled, remembering how nervous he was to give you the wrist cuff emblazoned with the mudhorn not too long ago. You had just thought it meant that you two were close, nothing more.
"We're idiots, you know that?"
A soft chuckle emitted from his modulator. "I would have to agree."
He reached for your face then, bare hand on your skin. A chill rushed down your spine, his helmet looking directly at you. "In Mandalorian culture, we kiss differently due to our helmets. It's called a--"
"Kedable Kiss?" You glanced at his visor.
"You know what that is but you don't know our courting rituals?"
A laugh escaped as he cupped your face. "Excuse me for not reading up on the 'courting of Mandalorians.'" You spoke the last words in a mock serious tone, one that had you chuckling but him melting.
"I'm going to kiss you now if that's alright."
A shy smile appeared on your lips. "Such a gentleman with it."
"You're ruining the mood." He mumbled coyly, as he reached his forehead to touch yours. While this wasn't the type of kiss you were necessarily used to, the meaning was all the same. You closed your eyes as the beskar touched your head.
"You know something, mesh'la?"
"Hmm?" You had no idea what that word meant, but that was not on your list of priorities at the moment.
"I wouldn't put myself on the line for anyone but you." You moved your hands to hold his helmet, and you were glad you two were sitting because you did not trust your knees right now.
vaporwave
yousharknotpass
prguitarman
romaincrisis
