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✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
(I needed to write a little something something for Badlands and after some requests on my asks, here it is 💚 hope you enjoy everyone 🥰)
Headcanon! Where Kwei acts like the strict, disciplined older brother, but the truth is he’s terrified of Dek’s first solo hunt. He keeps delaying him with excuses, checking his gear, adjusting straps that are already perfect,because he’s scared something will happen. When Dek finally leaves, Kwei walks him to the ridge and squeezes his shoulder a little too long. When Dek returns alive, Kwei acts calm and silent… but the way his pupils widen in relief gives him away.
Headcanon! Where Dek constantly “observes the environment” but somehow he is always two steps behind Thia, shadowing her every move. If she stumbles, he’s instantly checking her balance, pretending it’s no big deal while his mandibles twitch with worry. He leans down to her height without thinking, protective in a way he’ll never admit. Thia pretends she doesn’t notice. Dek pretends he isn’t doing it. Both are very bad liars.
Headcanon! Where Thia picks up little things during their travels (bones, stones, shells) and brings them to Dek so he can braid them into her hair. She expects him to dismiss her, but he treats each item like it’s something precious. He braids everything in carefully, explaining quietly that trophies tell a story. He won’t say it out loud, but he loves how her smile widens whenever she finds another small trophy to braid in her hair.
Headcanon! Where Kwei isn’t the type to speak about his feelings, so he shows them in practical ways. He fixes gear, sharpens blades, leaves repaired straps where you’ll find them, but never from his own hands and always without a word. He sits near you, never directly beside you, but close enough that his shoulder might touch yours if you lean back. Dek teases him about doting and Kwei gets offended… mostly because it’s true.
Headcanon! When during a hunt, Thia accidentally shoots Dek and he insists he’s fine even while wobbling like branch in the wind.
“I’m so sorry.” She apologises, her voice cracking and Dek simply nods at her, staying as expressionless as he can be. He pulls the bolt out with a muffled scream and tries to keep walking, but she forces him to sit down. When she tends to his wounds, he stays quiet so she doesn’t worry too much. Later, he quietly admits he didn’t roar at her because he never wants her to be afraid of him.
Headcanon! Where Dek limps back from a hunt, claiming he is “victorious” even though he is one step away from collapsing. When he finally passes out and Thia patches him up, he grumbles about her worrying too much. But the moment she isn’t looking, he rests his forehead against her shoulder in silent thanks. It’s a soft gesture compared to his usual demeanour and he hopes she doesn’t notice. She definitely does.
Headcanon! Where Kwei adjusts gear when he’s worried. Your armor strap is a millimeter off? He adjusts it. Dek’s gauntlet sits loose? He tightens it. Thia’s braid slips in front of her face? He tucks it back with the gentlest touch she’s ever felt from him. He’ll mutter something like “Sloppy gear gets you killed.” But really, it’s his version of “please be safe.”
Headcanon! Where Kwei stands between you and danger automatically, but he will never admit it. Whether it’s a storm, a wild creature or even another Yautja training too close, Kwei steps in front of the person he cares about without thinking. He doesn’t make a big show of it, he just shifts his stance so he’s blocking the threat with his body. If you confront him about it, he’ll say something like “My position was strategic,” but you both know that’s not the whole truth.
Headcanon! Where Dek lets you touch his face only when you’re worried. Yautja are protective of their faces, but if you grab his mandible to inspect a bruise or scrape, he doesn’t flinch.
He actually softens, eyes half-lidded, mandibles relaxing.
He’ll grumble something like “Your hands might be small, but be gentle.”
But it’s obvious he trusts you in a way he doesn’t trust others.
Summary: You, a human caretaker, are brought to Dek’s Yautja clan and quickly prove your strength and heart.
A/N: This piece is set years and years after the Badlands movie. In it, Dek started his own clan and is building a future.
The jungle air glowed with heat as your clan approached the clearing. High platforms rose above the trees like metallic roots, bound together with bone-white supports and pulsing lights.
Dek’s settlement had grown since anyone last visited. You could feel the hum of life even before you stepped inside.
Your place, as always, was at the side of your clan leader’s pregnant mate.
She walked slowly, hands resting under the swell of her belly.
You stayed close enough to catch her if she stumbled, your pack filled with herbs, cloths, and everything else she might need during the visit.
“Do not hover,” she teased, clicking lightly. “I am pregnant, not fragile.”
You smiled, yautja women were proud. And they should be.
“If you fall, the whole clan will blame me.”
“Then you will have to be quicker.” Her eyes narrowed playfully.
Before you could answer, a deep tremor moved through the clearing. Heavy footsteps approached.
The chatter of warriors quieted.
Dek emerged at the centre of the platform above, then leapt down with an effortless grace that made several younger hunters mutter in admiration.
He had changed.
The last time you saw him, he had been strong but not fully grown, lean, ambitious, hungry for respect after his hunt.
Now he was every inch a leader.
Tall, broad, marked with scars that told the story of the clan he had built with his own blood. His dreadlocks were longer, pulled back with gold clasps. His chest armour was custom-forged, decorated with the sigils of his new clan.
But his eyes, those were the same.
Sharp. Intelligent. Focused.
They slid past your leader, past the warriors, and landed on you.
You felt your heart hammer inside you.
He held your gaze for a heartbeat too long before stepping forward.
He bowed deeply to your clan leader.
He bowed respectfully to the pregnant mate.
Then he turned to you, and though protocol demanded only a polite nod, he bowed again, lower this time.
“Human,” he rumbled, voice deeper than you remembered. “You have returned.”
“It seems so,” you said softly. “You have built much since we last crossed paths.”
His mandibles flexed, a small flare that could have been pride. Or amusement. Or something else entirely.
“Come, your dwelling is prepared.”
Dek guided the group through the settlement.
Younglings peeked from behind woven screens. Warriors trained in the courtyards. The air smelled of heated metal, rich soil, and the herbal smoke rising from the healer’s hut, where you would be spending most of your time.
When you entered, the pregnant mate eased into the large padded nest prepared for her.
You unpacked your supplies, already slipping naturally into the routine of care.
“You have skilled hands,” Dek said from the doorway.
You nearly jumped. You had not heard him approach.
His size should have made him impossible to miss, even if he was smaller than the other yautja, he was still huge compared to you. He stood there silently, watching the way you smoothed the bedding and checked the temperature stones.
“I have experience,” you replied, trying to steady your voice.
“Yes, I have heard how you fought during the attack on your last journey.”
Your face warmed.
“I only did what I had to.”
“Then you did well. A clan is fortunate to have one who protects and nurtures.”
He meant it. Every word.
The pregnant mate let out a low chuckle.
“Dek… she cannot work if you fill the doorway like a great beast.”
For the first time, Dek seemed almost startled. His mandibles twitched, and he stepped back.
“My apologies, I will return later to check on your comfort.”
He spoke to the mate, but his eyes flicked back to you, quickly, quietly.
Then he left, disappearing into the bright afternoon outside.
The pregnant mate gave you a look filled with mischief.
“He likes you.”
You nearly dropped your satchel. “He- what?”
“He looks at you the way my mate looked at me before he realised he was in trouble. And before I knew I would let him court me.”
Your cheeks warmed even more.
“You’re imagining things.”
“Am I?” she hummed.
You turned away to organise herbs, but your pulse refused to settle.
Because she wasn’t imagining it.
You had felt it the moment Dek bowed to you, the moment his eyes traced your face as if rediscovering you.
A spark.
A pull.
Faint… but unmistakable.
As the healer’s hut fell quiet, you finally realised something:
Your clan had come for diplomacy and unity.
But you had stepped into something far more personal.
Something that felt like the beginning of a story you were not prepared for, and yet somehow wanted with a startling ache.
The first full day in Dek’s clan was quiet… at least at first.
You tended to the pregnant mate with familiar motions.
You prepared her morning drink, checked the heat of the nest stones, and opened the window-lattice to let in a gentle flow of air.
All the while, you expected the day to ease into an easy rhythm.
It didn’t.
Dek arrived before the sun had fully risen.
He ducked into the healer’s hut, carrying a steaming pot of broth balanced effortlessly in one hand.
“I bring sustenance,” he announced, voice almost too casual.
The pregnant mate raised an amused brow.
“Dek, it is dawn.”
“Yes.” He set the pot down carefully. “Food should be hot when morning arrives.”
You hid a smile behind your hand.
There was no way he had personally cooked it, leaders did not do that, but he had undoubtedly bullied someone into rising early.
The pregnant mate glanced at you knowingly before sipping the broth.
“Mmm. Good. And now you may leave. We are well.”
Dek hesitated.
“I… see.”
His gaze slid toward you, lingered just a moment.
Then he turned and left with a stiffness that made the mate snort as soon as he was gone.
“You do realise, that he came to look at you, yes?”
You sighed.
“I realise he is a persistent leader with a concern for clan relations.”
She stared. Silent. Judging.
“…Fine. Maybe a little more than concern.”
“Much more.” She reclined back with satisfaction.
He returned again at midday.
This time, carrying fresh water and fruit.
And a packet of cooling leaves, typically used only in healers’ nests.
You folded your arms.
“Dek.”
He straightened, clearly trying to look dignified.
“I am… assisting.”
“You left your entire clan’s duties to bring fruit?”
His mandibles clicked softly.
“It is fresh fruit.”
The pregnant mate outright laughed.
You picked up one of the fruits, rolling it in your palm.
“Is there something you need, Dek?”
His eyes lowered to you, and for a moment, he looked almost shy.
“Yes, to ensure you are comfortable here.”
Before you could form a response, he left. Though not quickly, not as if he fled, but slowly, reluctantly, as if stepping away from something he did not want to lose sight of.
He came again that evening.
The pregnant mate was resting, so you sat alone on the woven floor mat, sorting herbs by moonlight. The soft hum of insects outside wrapped the hut in a gentle stillness.
Dek’s silhouette filled the doorway.
“May I enter?” he asked.
You nodded.
“She’s asleep.”
He crouched down beside you, surprisingly quiet for someone his size. For a long moment, he didn’t speak. He simply watched your hands as you ground the softer leaves into a powder.
“You work with precision,” he said softly.
“You speak as if surprised.”
“I am not.” His gaze lifted to your face. “I remember the younglings you cared for. The patience you had with them. That is a strength few possess.”
"You used to leave them in my care when they annoyed you.”
“They annoyed everyone.”
“But they liked me.”
“They liked you because you were gentle and firm. A rare combination.”
You stilled slightly, not expecting the depth of that compliment.
Dek seemed to sense your pause and moved closer, but not touching you, never overstepping, just enough to feel his warmth.
“Your clan was wise to entrust you with this task. My clan is fortunate to host you.”
You glanced at him.
“You keep saying ‘my clan’ like it is something fragile.”
He tilted his head.
“I built it from nothing. Fragile things are often treasured.”
His honesty hit unexpectedly hard.
You lowered your voice.
“You’ve done well, Dek. This place… it feels alive. Safe.”
“You feel safe here?”
You nodded. “Yes.”
That seemed to affect him more deeply than any praise. A soft vibration in his chest filled the space.
He inhaled slowly, scenting you.
Not possessively.
Not aggressively.
Curiously.
As if trying to understand something new forming between you.
“I am pleased,” he murmured.
For a heartbeat, you thought he might reach for your hand. His claws twitched, but he stopped himself, glancing toward the pregnant mate’s nest as if reminded of propriety.
“I should not linger,” he said reluctantly.
“You have lingered all day,” you teased.
“Then… I should linger less loudly.” His mandibles twitched, amused.
You laughed quietly, and Dek went still. Enchanted.
Softly, reverently, he lowered his head in farewell.
Not a bow this time, a gesture given only to equals.
“Rest well,” he said.
Your name followed in a low, almost gentle growl. Then he slipped out into the night.
When the hut fell quiet again, the pregnant mate whispered from her nest, startling you.
“He is falling. Quickly.”
You pressed a palm over your warm face.
“…I know.”
What you didn’t admit, not to her, not yet to yourself, was that you were falling too.
The next few days settled into a rhythm that should have felt ordinary.
You mixed herbs, monitored her breathing, and massaged her lower back when the strain grew heavy.
Clan members brought offerings, stories, and laughter.
But the rhythm was not ordinary.
Not with Dek appearing so often.
Not with the way his presence altered the air.
It wasn’t just interest anymore.
It was instinct.
He loomed more closely, listening to your laughter with hungry attention, watching your hands as if mapping each motion.
When others spoke to you, his pupils tightened. When you brushed past him, his chest rose sharply, catching your scent.
The bond had begun forming without either of you speaking the word.
And then the day came when instinct and truth collided.
The warning call sounded at midday, sharp, metallic, cutting through the humid air like a blade.
You stood immediately, your hands already finding the pregnant mate’s shoulders.
“What is it?” you whispered.
“Scavengers. They search for unprotected nests. They smell weakness.”
Your gut tightened.
The healer’s hut was lightly guarded, meant to be a place of peace, not a battlefield.
Outside, warriors clashed.
You heard the snap of metal, the roar of predators, the shrill shriek of something desperate and wild.
Dek’s voice thundered commands somewhere near the centre of the settlement.
But a crash at the back wall snapped your attention. A scavenger, thin, pale, with talons like jagged bone, slashed through the woven panels.
It lunged straight for the nest.
The pregnant mate cried out, clutching her belly. She was ready to fight, but you were quicker.
You didn’t think.
You moved.
You grabbed the nearest metal rod, one used to stir the herbal steamer, and slammed it into the creature’s face with a brutal crack.
It reeled back, hissing, claws slicing the air. You stepped between it and the nest, feet planted, body coiled with a fierceness you hadn’t touched in months.
It lunged again.
You dodged and brought the rod down hard on its shoulder. It screeched and lashed out, claws grazing your arm.
The sting made your vision blur, but the pain pushed adrenaline through your veins.
“Come on, come get me.”
It rushed you with a savage, desperate speed but a roar tore through the hut.
Dek crashed through the doorway, spear already drawn.
He seized the creature mid-leap, slamming it against the floor so hard the hut shook. His blade flashed once, clean, final.
The scavenger fell still.
Dek’s chest heaved as he stood over it, his entire body vibrating.
Then his eyes snapped to you.
He saw the blood on your arm.
He saw the metal rod shaking in your grip.
He saw you standing protectively before the pregnant mate.
He froze.
“Human,” he rasped, stepping toward you. “You are hurt.”
“I’m fine,” you breathed, lowering the rod. “She’s safe. That’s what matters.”
He loomed closer, but not in anger, something far more intense.
His pupils had expanded fully, swallowing the gold of his eyes. He reached out, claws trembling slightly, and touched your wounded arm with a gentleness that contradicted the violence he had just unleashed.
“You fought, fearless. Without hesitation.”
“There was no time to hesitate.”
“You placed yourself between danger and her. Between danger and life.”
You swallowed.
“I did what I had to.”
He lifted your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.
“No, you did what only the strong-hearted do.”
The pregnant mate watched silently, understanding the gravity of the moment more clearly than either of you.
Dek leaned in, scenting the air around you, sharply, deeply, instinctively.
A pull.
A claim.
A declaration he did not yet speak.
You felt heat travel down your spine.
“Let me see the wound,” he said, voice thick.
You nodded, letting him guide you to sit.
He worked with the healer’s supplies as if they were weapons, precise, focused, dangerously attentive. Every brush of his fingers against your skin sent shivers through you.
“I saw you,” he said quietly as he cleaned the blood. “The way you moved. The way you protected her.”
You looked away.
“Anyone would have done the same.”
“No. Not like that.”
He bandaged your arm, his claws lingering on the final knot.
When he spoke again, his voice held a tone you had never heard from him.
“You are much more than what you believe yourself to be.”
“Dek-”
“I will not forget what you did today.”
“And what does that mean?”
He leaned closer, so close you could feel the warmth radiating off him, smell the metallic spice of his skin.
“It means, that something I thought was impossible… is happening.”
You didn’t get the chance to ask what he meant.
Because outside, his clan called his name, urgent, demanding their leader’s attention.
He stood reluctantly, mandibles pulled tight, but before he left, he rested a large, warm hand over yours.
“I will return,” he said, voice full of something deep and unspoken.
You felt the tremor beneath his skin. Felt the bond stirring.
“I know,” you whispered.
And he did return, faster than you expected.
And not because of duty.
But because the moment he saw you fight, he realised you were not simply worth protecting, you were worth choosing.
In the days after the attack, the healer’s hut grew strangely quiet.
Not silent, there was always the soft breathing of the pregnant mate, the faint hum of insects outside, the bubbling of your herbal pot, but quiet in a deeper way.
A settled way. A way that felt like the low breath before something meaningful.
Dek came often.
But he no longer arrived with excuses.
No fruit, no water, no pretexts about checking on the nest.
He came for you.
And the moment he entered the hut, it changed.
He filled it with calm. With warmth. With the steady weight of someone who wanted to stay.
On the third evening, you found him already inside when you returned from gathering herbs.
He sat on the floor beside the window-lattice, repairing a damaged piece of armour with slow, thoughtful movements.
You paused in the doorway.
“I thought you were on patrol.”
“I was.” He didn’t look up. “I finished early.”
You set your basket down.
“And you decided to come here?”
“I decided to be where I wished to be.”
Your heart thudded softly.
The pregnant mate glanced between the two of you, smirking before settling deeper into her nest.
You pretended not to notice her amusement.
Later, when the mate slept and the hut fell dim, you sat across from Dek, grinding herbs for her night drink. He watched your hands, his gaze warm and focused.
“You are precise. Every movement. Every choice.”
“I try.”
“No.” He leaned a little closer. “It is natural to you.”
You set the pestle down, studying him in the fading light.
“Why does that matter so much to you?”
His eyes lifted to meet yours, direct, unguarded.
“Because I see you clearly now,” he said.
“What does that mean?”
“It means you are unlike any off-worlder I have known. You carry strength in your hands, gentleness in your voice, and certainty in your stance. You are… whole.”
Your lips parted slightly.
You had never heard a Yautja speak like that.
“And I…” His mandibles shifted, expressing something almost vulnerable. “I find myself drawn to what is whole.”
You swallowed, unsure what to say. Dek reached out, touching a single claw to the back of your hand.
Not grabbing.
Just touching.
A question without words.
You did not pull away.
His pupils dilated.
He exhaled slowly, deeply, scenting the subtle shift of your acceptance.
“This bond, I did not expect it to form.”
Your chest tightened.
“Bond?”
“Yes. The pull toward you. It grows stronger every day.”
He moved closer, the heat of him warming the cool air between you. He kept his touch light, careful.
“If it scares you, tell me, and I will step back.”
You shook your head without thinking.
“It doesn’t frighten me.”
His shoulders relaxed. Tension melted from his posture. A warm, quiet vibration hummed in his chest.
“I find peace here. With you. More than I find anywhere else.”
You looked down at your joined hands.
“I feel that too.”
He stilled, mandibles pausing mid-click.
“You do?”
“Yes.”
He inhaled sharply, as if your answer struck him straight through the armour he wore so proudly.
His free hand lifted, then hesitated, until you leaned closer.
Dek touched your cheek with the back of his knuckles.
Gentle. Careful. Reverent.
“As strong as your heart is, you do not hide your truth. I admire that.”
“And what is my truth?” you whispered.
“That you are not meant for a simple path. You were meant to stand beside someone… not behind them.”
“Someone like you?” you asked softly.
Dek lowered his forehead toward yours, stopping only when he felt your breath on his skin.
“Yes. If you would have me.”
You closed your eyes, letting your forehead rest against his, your breath mingling with his in a quiet, ancient gesture of trust.
“I would,” you whispered.
His claws curled gently around your hand.
His chest rumbled with joy.
The bond deepened like a root sinking into solid earth.
The pregnant mate, still half-awake, murmured from her nest.
“About time.”
You snorted softly and pulled back, cheeks warm.
Dek’s mandibles flared in amusement, eyes bright with something soft and dangerous all at once.
He rose to his feet slowly, unwilling to break the moment too quickly.
“I will return tomorrow, not as a leader checking on a guest… but as myself.”
“And who is that?” you teased lightly.
Dek paused at the doorway, looking back.
“The male who is falling for you.”
The words lingered in the air long after he left.
You touched your cheek where his knuckles had brushed and realised something undeniable.
You were falling too.
And the next step was one only he could take.
Your clan had been settled within Dek’s territory for several days, yet the rhythm of life felt strangely new.
You still cared for your clan leader’s pregnant mate, you still assisted the healers, you still walked the familiar path between the healer’s hut and the central fires. But something about each day felt warmer.
Or perhaps it was simply Dek.
He visited you constantly now.
No excuses, no pretence.
He stepped into the healer’s hut with quiet purpose, always carrying something he thought you might need.
Fresh water. Rare fruit. Fine woven cloth for the pregnant mate. Tools adjusted to fit your smaller hands.
Sometimes he brought nothing at all, only his presence, only his desire to be near you.
You spoke for hours.
About your clans.
About the hunts you had survived.
About the night you protected the younglings.
About the quiet loneliness you never confessed to anyone else.
Dek listened. Always.
He listened as if every word you spoke was something sacred.
One evening, after a long day of tending to the expectant mother, you stepped outside to breathe in the cool air.
The sky above Dek’s home was scattered with stars, shimmering like powdered bone across black velvet.
You had not heard him approach.
But you felt him.
His warmth settled behind you before he spoke.
His voice was low, almost gentle.
“Walk with me.”
You nodded.
You followed him along a path that wound between the huts and storage grounds, all the way to the ridge overlooking the forest. Below, the canopy shifted in slow waves as the night breeze passed through.
Dek stood beside you, arms relaxed at his sides, gaze fixed on the view.
“You are strange,” he said suddenly.
You blinked.
“Thank you?”
He turned his head, and you saw the curve of a smile in the movement of his mandibles.
“You are brave enough to fight beside warriors. Soft enough to calm a frightened child. Quick enough to understand our ways. Proud enough to challenge me in conversation. I did not know a human could be all these things.”
“And is that good or bad?”
His eyes found yours.
Slow. Direct. Certain.
“It is good.”
The silence that followed was full. Not heavy. Not awkward.
Simply full, like the air between two people who had already begun to choose each other.
You had sensed it for days.
The bond forming.
The pull that felt ancient and instinctive.
But hearing him speak like this made something bloom in your chest.
He looked out over the trees again, thoughtful.
“In my youth, I believed strength was the only measure of a worthy mate. But strength is nothing without understanding. Without heart. Without a mind that sees the world clearly.”
He turned fully to you now.
Towering and calm.
Soft in a way he would show only to you.
“You are all of these.”
“Dek…”
He lifted a hand, slow and deliberate, and touched his claws to the centre of his chest. A gesture older than the clans themselves.
“I know what I wish, I wish to claim a mate who is my equal. Someone who stands with me. Someone who will share my future. Someone who is already here.”
Your lungs felt too tight.
“Are… are you saying you choose me?”
“I do.”
Your chest swelled so sharply it almost hurt.
He stepped closer, careful not to startle you.
“But I must honour both our clans. I will not approach you without permission. I will speak to your leader tomorrow.”
You froze.
“Tomorrow?”
He nodded once, firm and absolute.
You reached out, fingers brushing his wrist in a rare moment of boldness. “And what if my leader says no?”
Dek’s mandibles flexed in a slow, amused smile.
“Then I will convince him. With patience. And with truth.”
“And what is the truth?” you whispered.
He leaned down, close enough for his breath to warm your cheek.
“The truth is that I want you.”
Your knees nearly gave out.
He did not touch you further, but you felt surrounded by him.
When you returned to the healer’s hut that night, your clan leader’s mate raised a brow at the sight of your flushed cheeks.
“Oh, I see you have been on a walk.”
You hid your face with your hands.
“Do not start.”
She laughed softly.
“It is about time someone looked at you like that.”
You went to sleep with your heart racing.
The next morning, Dek sought out your clan leader.
You stood nearby, just close enough to watch. Your leader listened in silence as Dek requested your hand. His voice was measured, respectful, but sure. He did not waver.
Your clan leader considered. He looked at you.
He looked at the future child within his mate.
He looked at the two clans, so newly bound in alliance.
Then he nodded.
“Yes, I allow it.”
Your breath left your body in a rush.
Dek placed his fist to his chest in gratitude, then he turned to you.
He approached, slow and purposeful, as if every step carried the weight of a promise.
“Your leader has granted permission, now I ask you.”
He lowered himself to one knee before you, head bowed in the deepest sign of honour his people possessed.
“Will you take me as your mate? Will you stand at my side? Will you share my clan, my future, and my life?”
Tears blurred your vision.
“Yes, Dek, yes.”
He rose, cupping your face with both hands, careful and reverent.
“Then you are mine,” he said softly.
“And you are mine,” you answered.
The bond settled in your chest like a star igniting.
You were not just welcomed.
Not just respected.
Not just useful.
You were chosen.
By the Yautja you loved.
And now, that Yautja was your betrothed.
---
The seasons changed slowly on Dek’s territory.
The trees shifted from bright copper to deep shadowed green, and the air grew warmer as the twin suns rose earlier each morning.
The settlement expanded, huts rebuilt with stronger supports and wider frames, new hunters joining the clan that Dek had created from nothing.
And through all of it, you lived at his side.
Your wedding had been noble, marked by rituals older than any clan memory.
Dek had stood before you with his chest bare, colours painted across his skin in careful lines of ochre and deep black. You had held his hands, palms pressed to his as your clans sealed the bond with a single spoken vow.
You remembered the moment his forehead touched yours.
Peace had settled over you like a cloak.
Now, months later, that peace had become your everyday life.
Early mornings were your favourite.
You often woke before Dek did, curled against his chest while his arms held you with instinctive protectiveness.
His breathing was deep and steady, his warmth surrounding you completely. Sometimes he woke slowly, mandibles brushing your cheek in a fond greeting.
“Stay,” he would murmur in a low voice, still thick with sleep.
And you always stayed.
You helped around the clan in simple ways.
You continued to assist the healers, and you often visited the pregnant mate who had encouraged your bond long before either you or Dek dared to acknowledge it. She had given birth to a healthy youngling, and you found yourself caring for him whenever your duties allowed.
The child adored you, reaching for you whenever you walked by.
Dek enjoyed watching those moments. He said it made him think of your future.
Your evenings were filled with companionship.
Dek brought you along to meetings with visiting hunters, trusting your insight and your calm strength. You had become more than a mate. You were a partner, a counsellor, and a source of balance for the entire clan. The others looked at you with respect. Some even with awe.
But the nights alone were yours.
Your hut, expanded to fit a mated pair, was warm and soft with blankets and glowing lanterns.
Dek often sat behind you while you brushed your hair, his claws gently separating the strands so he could run his fingers through them. You loved the sound he made when you leaned back into him, a quiet, pleased rumble that vibrated through your spine.
Sometimes you spoke. Sometimes you simply existed together.
Both were enough.
One night, while the stars shimmered bright, you stood on the ridge where he had first confessed his feelings.
Dek came up behind you, sliding his arms around your waist and resting his chin on the top of your head.
“You are pleased,” he said softly.
You took his hand and lifted it to your lips.
“Very.”
He breathed out slowly, his chest rising against your back.
“I never thought I would have this. A clan of my own. A home that feels like peace. A mate who sees me clearly.”
You turned in his arms so you could look up at him. His eyes glowed faintly in the starlight, warm and certain.
“You earned all of it. And I am proud to be part of your future.”
His mandibles brushed your cheek with affection.
“You are my future.”
Your heart tightened with emotion. You pressed your forehead to his, the old gesture now familiar and comforting. He held you close as the night wind passed over the ridge, carrying the scent of fresh leaves and distant fires.
A life of love.
A life of partnership.
A life you had chosen together.
This was not the chaos of battle or the uncertainty of wandering.
This was something gentler, yet stronger.
A home.
A promise.
A life shared under twin suns.
And with Dek’s arms wrapped around you, you felt ready for every season still to come.
