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sirdindjarin · 1 year

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The Savior - Din Djarin x f!Reader

The Mandalorian, side-quest extraordinaire, accidentally frees a slave, kills a Senator's son, ends a criminal conspiracy, and falls in love. Just a month in the life of the galaxy's favorite chaotic space cowboy and his son.

The Savior / The Concession / The Choice (END)

A/N: i fucking love this man. here's the spotify playlist i made while hallucinating being wrecked by him. I accidentally based this fic on Euphoria by Angels & Airwaves.

AO3 Link🤠

TAGS: Fluff, m!falls first, plot with porn, helmet stays on for now, P in V, outdoor activities, protective!Din, soft-ish!Din.

WARNINGS: reader is/was a slave; references to abuse; no curses or slang outside of Star Wars canon (that's a warning if you hate that hahaha)

**************************************************************

"I thought vagrants were barred at the door. How did a Mandalorian get in here?”

The Mandalorian in question does not react to the insult. At the table before him, the taunting Trandoshan guffaws, but his laughter dies when he gets no reaction from the bounty hunter.

"What do you want?" He snaps, his green jaws clicking shut.

Instead of replying, certain the answer is obvious, the beskar-covered man leisurely surveys the colorful, boisterous room, his hands folded in front of him. Having already scouted the upscale casino, he does this for sarcastic effect. He’s also certain that fact is lost on his Trandoshan quarry.

Upon returning his direct attention to the lizard, a small movement in the booth catches his heat sensor. A young woman, likely his quarry’s slave by her frayed appearance, sits with her head bowed behind her master.

“Hey, tin man, you in there?” Your master’s voice sounds more like rocks scraping together than fluid language.

The Mandalorian chucks a bounty puck onto the table, the name and alien visage of Rathos Craaf glowing in a blue cone of projected light.

“Go quietly or don’t - it makes no difference to me.”

“Ahh,” Rathos Craaf hums in his throat and leans back in his seat, making your demure form more visible to the bounty hunter. “What’s the price?”

The Mandalorian again does not dignify a response.

“Can’t be greater than what I’m willing to pay,” Rathos insinuates.

The tense silence eats through your body as the ruthless men stare at each other - the probability of oncoming violence ratcheting up.

“Go prepare my ship,” your master barks suddenly at you, raising his hand.

Flinching, you scoot around the U-shaped booth to obey.

You weren’t always a slave. As a child on Kenari, you had been born into a world of vivid green, rippling blue, and rich, brown soil. Trained in both hunting and fighting from birth, you had been too young to save your village from the brutal relocation program of the Empire.

Dispersed onto harsher worlds, you’d been sold from one slaver to another until finally coming into the collection of one Rathos Craaf. He has been your master for several years by this point, and while not the worst, he was close.

“What will you do about the girl?” A modulated voice asks.

Pausing on the edge of the hard bench, you look between the two antagonists. Me?

“Who cares about the mudscuffing girl? Tell you what, I’ll sell her to you.” The crafty Trandoshan gets an even better idea: “Or - take her in exchange for the bounty. She’s considered top-tier sentient property.”

“Not what I was asking,” a gloved hand thumbs his blaster. “Once you’re in carbonite, wh-”

The Trandoshan lunges up from his seat with a booming yell, launching at the cloaked, beskar-free neck of the Mandalorian. Rathos’ claws reach around the smaller man’s throat, but the Mandalorian is lighter of foot, ducking out of the hold.

Off-balance, Rathos tumbles but rolls back on his feet, his scaly tail acting as a counterweight. Gasps and mutters spill from the crowd as people scramble out of harm’s way.

You remain seated in the booth, frozen and unsure. But then, as the silver bounty hunter aims his blaster, Rathos whips his tail into the Mandalorian’s legs, knocking him with a clang onto his back.

The blaster goes skittering through the crowd, and you’re shocked to find your legs racing after it.

The thunder of a powerful flame roars in the cavernous room as you weave through aliens and humans alike, searching. The blackness of the blaster appears on the gray floor and you dive for it.

Cold steel excites your skin. It’s heavier than you thought it would be, and though you’ve never fired one, your ancient muscle memory remembers the feeling of a bow in your hands; the trajectory, strength, and steadiness necessary.

Sprinting back through the crowd, you find Rathos pinning the Mandalorian’s chest. The solid armor prevents any of Rathos’ blows from truly hurting the bounty hunter, but the weight of the lizard is too awkward and great for him to shove away from this angle.

The fire-throwing vambrace comes up again and, as it billows into the Trandoshan’s face, you fire a blast at the substantial tail that had once been used against you.

Rathos bellows in pain, tumbling to the side, and the Mandalorian takes full advantage. He jumps to his feet, then connects his fist to his quarry's skull, rendering the creature unconscious. Binders clasp around the arms of your master and the successful bounty hunter staggers backward a single step to catch his breath.

You freeze at what you’ve just done, the blaster still pointed at Rathos. People murmur, and the words, “Killed by his slave” can be heard, though he is only unconscious. Your chest heaves, far more out of breath than the Mandalorian walking toward you.

“Thank you,” he says drily, taking his blaster out of your hands.

Unsure what else you should do, you follow your master as he is dragged without dignity along the smooth fogstone floor.

Exiting the casino, snaking down an alley, and traipsing to the outskirts of the city limits, the silhouette of a ship against the orange horizon becomes visible.

Neither you nor the Mandalorian have spoken a single word since he took the blaster from your hands, but as he presses a button on his vambrace to lower the loading ramp, he turns to you now.

“Grab his tail."

An order. That you could do. You immediately grab Rathos’ tail and lift. The Mandalorian half-drags and half-lifts the Trandoshan by his cuffed hands and the lizard is loaded into the ship’s hold.

Standing at the far end of the Mandalorian’s rather busted ship, you’re surprised to see a small, green being. Dressed in what must be a sack, its long ears perk up and its eyes glimmer at the sight of the bounty hunter. A happy coo reverberates in the quiet, metal space.

The child looks at you and makes another, similar noise. It waddles toward you, but before you can react, the Mandalorian scoops the child into his arms and sequesters it behind a thin blast door.

“You are free to go.”

It’s an odd statement. He must be familiar with the underworld. He knows how slaving works.

You’re not sure when you last spoke; you weren’t allowed to speak. But the bounty hunter seems to expect a reply.

“I am not. The law says I am to be returned to the slavers’ coalition for repurchase.” Your voice is scratchy from disuse and the helmeted man tilts his head in curiosity.

“You won't run?”

It seems too monumental a task. Hopes and fears trip over each other in their efforts to be heard. Freedom. Finding a place to call home. Your family was long dead. But… maybe there was hope of a family somewhere.

Where would I even go? No way I could stay ahead of the slavers. They’d send hunters like this Mandalorian after me. I’d be worse off than I am now.

“I do not know if I can,” you whisper honestly.

The Mandalorian looks at you - at least, you think he does - for so long that you begin to squirm under his gaze.

Without warning, the wind is knocked from you. Rathos’ tail slams into the back of your knees, crumpling you to the floor. His claws wrap around your neck, and you yell, plunging two fingers into his lidless eye.

“Traitorous shutta!” Spittle from your master flies onto your cheeks.

As he recoils from your jab, you squirm underneath him, trying to flee, when the weight on your chest vanishes in a rush of air. Coughing and wiping your face, you lie there momentarily until your throbbing pulse abates inside your head. You sit up and widen your eyes to hasten their focus.

The Mandalorian has the Trandoshan by the throat with both hands. Rathos sputters and gags, but you watch as gloved fingers dig harder into the scaly throat. The anonymous man shoves his quarry into the carbon freezing chamber and smashes the button with more force than necessary.

It's over.

When you woke in the dark that morning, never would you have expected to watch your master be frozen in carbonite aboard a bounty hunter's ship.

That bounty hunter turns to you now.

“I have something I need to do. I’ll give you passage if you provide assistance.”

________________________________

Crossing your arms, tucking your legs under your body, and leaning against the hull in your seat, you try to make yourself as small as possible. You wouldn’t have even climbed up here if the Mandalorian hadn’t indicated that you should.

He wanted to keep an eye on you. He did not trust you around the kid - despite (or perhaps because of) its interest in you.

Moments after leaving the planet’s atmosphere, a new emotion bubbles in your chest: elation. The stars flow by in a technicolor kaleidoscope; hues and shapes you have never seen race past your eyes. It’s beyond anything you could have imagined.

“Has it always looked like this?” You wonder to yourself.

You jump when a deep, electronic voice answers, “Yes.”

“Oh,” you murmur, realizing he had been watching you. “I’ve never seen hyperspace. I was kept in the hold,” you state without self-pity.

The Mandalorian lets that terrible fact hang in the air before eventually saying,“I recommend you get some sleep. It will be several hours before we reach Mid Rim.”

He turns away from you and folds his arms. The muffled clang of his helmet tipping back against the headrest tells you that he will be taking his own advice.

Interestingly, you feel safe enough to get some rest. Being constantly attuned to the temperamental wills and whims of others, you've become a great judge of character.

This Mandalorian, though quiet, is clearly capable of kindness to those who deserve it. A rarity for someone in his profession.

___________________________________

The blue cone glows in his hand, projecting the face of one ugly slug. The name at the bottom, written in a language you had been forced to learn, reads: Salaa the Hutt.

Fearful eyes flick up to the veiled Mandalorian, “A Hutt?”

The helmet nods, “You will be my way in.” You make a whimpering noise, but the bounty hunter continues. “You’re a slave on the run. I will be returning you for a small reward.”

Crushing disappointment deflates your body. Believing yourself to have been wavering between freedom and the life you had known, you realize, now that the decision was being made for you, that you’d chosen freedom. Further adding to your pain is your misjudgement of the Mandalorian.

I’d have never made it to freedom - far too naive. Thought a karking bounty hunter was doing something out of the kindness of his heart. Unbelievable.

Still, to your credit, you take several steps back, almost as though you might try to outrun the nimble, strong bounty hunter with a kriffing jetpack, of all things. You’re proud of yourself for even thinking about doing it.

The Mandalorian doesn’t react. He pockets the puck and opens his weapons cache on the hull wall. He lifts a small item from the assortment and shuts the doors. You can’t see what it is, and he doesn’t return to you.

He opens the blast door to the child’s tiny room. The baby snores in his bungalow, and the ever-fascinating Mandalorian rubs the green, fuzzy head before closing the door. He turns and strides toward you.

You take one more step backward, just because you can. Because you should.

He still says nothing. Closer, and closer, the armored man advances on you until you can see your nervous eyes in his breastplate.

“Give me your wrists.”

Is his voice naturally that persuasive or is it the vocoder?

Overriding your fledgling autonomy, you obey him with a preprogrammed respectful nod. He clasps binders around your wrists.

The Mandalorian steps away to retrieve another weapon, then he lifts his chin toward the boarding ramp.

Shouldn't you at least try to gain freedom? Beg him to let you go?

“Please, I can try to pay you,” this is a lie and he knows it. “Or I could work off the debt of transport. Something!”

It’s the loudest your voice has been in living memory, and it both surprises and emboldens you. But the Mandalorian does not seem swayed.

“Walk,” he orders.

You minutely shake your head twice. It means nothing to him, but everything to you.

An electronic sigh, then he takes a single step toward you. Fear switches you back into the subservient girl of the last twenty years. You flinch, your manacled hands blocking your face.

The Mandalorian falters, slightly abashed. “I am not going to hurt you. But you need to start walking.”

Slowly, you lower your hands. His gloved fingers curl around your bicep, and he leads you out into the sunny air.

It’s a hot day on Niamos. The beachside resort that serves as the capital city is teeming with families of all species bathing in the muggy air. The sandstone path that Mando - that’s what everyone calls them, right? - parades you down is packed with beachgoers. Embarrassed by your plight, you try to hide the binders, but it’s impossible with the angle he holds your arm.

Finding another gust of will, you reason, “Surely you could find a way inside without turning me in? You’re good at your job. You could've killed my m-”

“Salaa angered powerful people. There is a bounty on him and it’s higher if he’s dead.

“What does that mean?”

“He's careful. Employs expensive security. Easiest way in is through the front door,” Mando finishes.

Mando’s leathery hold on your arm is soft. Unyielding, of course, but he doesn’t hurt you. It saddens you to realize how different that is from your usual treatment. He had still binded you and planned on turning you in, but hey! At least he wasn’t going to leave a bruise.

Directing you down a narrow alley, the Mandalorian stops in front of a tan-colored, generic shield door. He raps twice on it, standing casually still. If he feels you shaking, he says nothing about it.

A Yaka man is standing behind the door when it opens with a whoosh. His metal implants reflect the sun and you squint. Behind him are another two Yaka and a particularly menacing-looking Zabrak, all armed with pulse rifles.

“We ain't buyin'," he slurs.

“I'm here to claim the slave reward.”

The Yaka stares at the impenetrable, T-shaped slit in the silver helmet, scrutinizing, before stepping aside. Mando guides you ahead of him, then you hear the spur-like sound of his step over the threshold. The close quarters are sweltering, and sweat beads on your temple.

“This way,” the Yaka servant veers to the right and up a steeply inclined hallway. The other members of the security team follow behind you.

The Mandalorian’s thumb slides over your skin. You would give it more thought if a wide, dingy room wasn’t quickly coming into view.

On the second floor, a muted, sparsely furnished area overlooks the residence across the street, and the beach beyond. However, you can’t see the view because the balcony is being taken up by a massive, blob-like shape, and a tall, spiky silhouette.

“Ahh,” the huge shape speaks, and for the first time in your life, you’re thankful you speak Huttese. “What is this?”

Bowing, the Yaka guard explains, “This Mandalorian has returned a loose slave.”

He grabs for your arm, but you lurch when Mando pulls you out of reach, warning, “Careful. She killed her master before fleeing."

The bodyguard recoils as though you personally threatened him. He steps away, waiting for actual instruction from his boss. The green Rodian next to Salaa tuts in his sour voice.

Deciding it was best not to speak, you raise your chin with dignity as Mando drops his hand from your arm.

“Why do you return her here?” Salaa the Hutt inquires. “Surely you know that I have been removed from my associations. Including the slavers.”

“I am here for information,” Mando drops the ruse completely, his voice calm.

“Information,” the Hutt laughs horribly. “I have much of that, pateesa. What do you wish to know?”

“You should ask what I have to trade first.”

“Hmm. You do not wish to trade the girl, I hope. Must be better than that,” the slimy giant slug laughs derisively.

You don’t even bristle. Worse things had been said to you daily.

The green, mohawked Rodian chuckles. Though you do not understand his language, the human bounty hunter does: “She is too sad-looking to be any fun. Pity.” The reptilian-looking male then makes a vile comment about what he can see through your ratty, loose clothing.

The Mandalorian's eyes narrow, and his right hand drifts toward his hip of its own accord.

“Make your offer, Mandalorian.”

“If you provide the information I need, I won’t claim the ten-thousand-credit bounty on your head.”

That horrible, bulging laugh bursts from the ex-crime boss once more, hurting your ears in its pitch and volume.

“Far too aggressive, Mandalorian. I decline.”

Salaa’s stubby arm motions at the armed security who raise their rifles at the two of you.

While you freeze in terror, the Mandalorian stills in focus. Faster than a hyperdrive, he clenches his fist. Miniature rockets whistle through the tense air, eliminating all three bodyguards; the angry Zabrak, the mouthy Rodian, and the blubbery Salaa remain.

The Mandalorian draws his blaster, pushing you behind him, and fires from his hip as the Zabrak guard begins to raise his modified arm. What type of weapon it held, you’ll never know because he falls to the ground, dead, before he can use it.

The Rodian darts away from Salaa, circling the room. To you, it seems as though he is intending to flee, not fight, but the Mandalorian fires a laserblast at his bug-eyed head, dropping him.

Mando calmly swivels his blaster to Salaa.

Resigned, the Hutt slimily states, “Ask what you wish to know, pateesa.”

“I have been told that you have seen another Mandalorian. Where?”

“Ahh, that is all? I have seen one here.”

“On Niamos?” So surprised, Mando forgets to keep the tone from his voice.

“A beskar-covered man does not go unnoticed on a planet filled with water-bathers,” Salaa laughs again. You visibly wince.

“Where?”

“Where else? Water’s Edge.”

Mando twists his head toward the opposite window as if he could see his fellow Mandalorian from here. He holsters his weapon and turns to leave.

“Those Yaka were expensive guards, pateesa,” the Hutt grumbles ominously.

“You paid too much.”

He returns his hold on your arm, pushing you forward. Marching awkwardly down the sloping halfway, you try to make sense of his actions.

Your face screws up in confusion, “You didn’t turn me in or claim the Hutt’s bounty. You're earning no credits.”

That’s the defining feature of a bounty hunter.

The silence lengthens as you reach the ground floor, and hurriedly exit the sandstone building. As you soak in the blistering sunshine, the hand on your arm turns you to face him. The Mandalorian’s quick fingers remove your binders.

“That’s it?” You rub your wrists even though he had left them on the loosest setting.

“Passage for assistance,” he reminds you.

He then nods once and takes his leave. For an interminable length of time, you watch as he calmly walks away, breaking only when he turns down an alley and is lost from sight.

What the hell do I do now?

__________________________________

The new day is growing late. Din Djarin basks in the heat of the single sun. For being one of those odd planets without plural light sources, the strength of the lone sun is incredible. Din much preferred the scorching, arid planets to the ice-covered ones, and Niamos is perfect. The breeze gently carries through his light flight suit, while the sun warms whatever dark material is visible around the beskar.

While Din feels more comfortable in this climate, heat signatures can be a little bit more difficult to read. He had managed to track a faint heat signature around Water’s Edge. The day before, immediately after speaking with Salaa, Din had come to check the place out, but his quarry had left some hours previously and he had lost the trail.

Din enters the establishment for the second time in as many days. Inside is a large, open floor with dining tables set out across the expanse. High society clinks glasses as they wait for the next act to grace the small stage. Din surveys the room, switching between heat sensors and normal vision, before concluding that the Mandalorian he searches for is beyond the far wall.

Heads turn and stare as Din, strutting as if he belongs, makes his way to the unobtrusive doorway next to the stage. A Mandalorian stands out here. This was a place for people who employed bounty hunters, not those whom they hunt. Din slides the door open, and he is greeted by a dark hallway.

Light spills from a room to his right. Din flips on his heat sensor again, and presses his lips together in satisfaction when the heat signature picks up.

Rounding into the room with confidence, Din observes everything at once.

A large mirror, complete with lights, sits above a desk. A rack of clothing stands lonely in the far corner. And on a stool in front of the mirror sits a Mandalorian, their flaky, blue-painted armor having seen better days.

“My name is Din Djarin,” he announces. “I have been tasked with finding other Mandalorians in order t-”

“Oh, my stars!” The Mandalorian squeals. The helmet is removed by purple hands, and a humanoid species stares in awe. “I’ve always wanted to meet a Mandalorian. I- I do this character because I just love your culture so much.”

Blinking behind his helm, Din confirms what he's already becoming sure of, “That armor you wear - it is not real beskar.”

“What? This stuff?” The actor scoffs. “This is expensive paint and cheap wetboard.” He stands up, advancing unwisely on the real Mandalorian. “Can I ask you some questions? I’ve got a real opportunity here to elevate my perfor-”

Din backs out of the room in a single, fluid motion, punching the button for the door.

He sighs.

***

A blaster shot turns the corner of the building Din had just walked past into dust and debris. He spins, drawing his own blaster, expecting to see the Empire itself. Instead, a young human bounty hunter stands there, nervously fumbling with her jammed blaster. The Mandalorian rushes her, pinning her by the collarbone against the alley wall.

"Bounty?”

Terrified, she nods and whispers, “Yes.”

"Who contracted it?"

She wheezes from under Din’s forearm, “Don't know. It's open Rim-wide for now. Just told to kill you and the girl.”

Under his helm, Din’s brow pinches. “The girl?”

The wide-eyed woman shrugs, again in the dark. If this inexperienced bounty hunter managed to track him down already, it's likely another has found you. Din releases the woman roughly and rockets up into the sky.

_______________________________

The sights and sounds of the beach are incredible. The late-daylight is deliciously warm as it touches your skin through the holes in your clothing. You sit on the top step of the tiered beach area, staring out at the water as you try to come up with a plan of action. Having slept on a lounge chair last night, you’re nearly grateful for the decades of poor lodging training your body.

The sky is hazy, but the flash of sunlight glinting off of something tiny flying far above has you twisting your head and squinting. Unable to make out the object, you return your attention to the ocean and ignore it.

From behind you, a voice calls your name and you automatically turn.

As you stare down the barrel of the blaster pointed at you, you remember no one should know your name here.

"Let's go," the bounty hunter tells you.

It's a woman with red skin and long, blue, braided hair. Etches in her cheeks make her bone structure look even sharper.

You frown. What you’d told the Mandalorian had already been proven correct. You weren't able to run.

Resignedly standing to your feet, you take a step, but go stumbling forward as the woman kicks your back.

Your second foreign emotion of the last twenty-four hours sparks in your chest, glowing as hot as the sun above.

"Hey! I was going," you glare.

"Move faster, scum," she orders.

You continue walking, your eyes scanning for something, anything, to get you out of this.

Ahead on the right is a large crowd of vendors and their customers. If you can duck through them, maybe you can lose the blue-haired madwoman behind you.

A cold, circular shape presses between your shoulder blades as you march, and your bravery starts to fail. If you make a single wrong move, you'll be shot before you even get to the crowd.

Just do it - better to die now than live as a slave.

The crowd swells as a school trip pours out from a nearby museum. Your confidence rises at the sight of the increasingly busy, confusing horde.

Closer. So kriffing close.

The female bounty hunter cries out suddenly as a blaster shot scalds her arm. She defensively spins, kicking out powerfully behind her.

A large species you're unfamiliar with, tall and teal, is thrown sideways with the force of the kick. The competing bounty hunter recovers into a crouch and shoots at your captor, hitting her in the chest.

With a violent exhale, she falls. Too busy sprinting into the crowd, you do not hear her final, pathetic breath.

Weaving, keeping ducked and hidden, you whisper a constant stream of 'excuse me.' You don't want to push anyone, knowing a reaction from an offended beach-goer could give away your position.

The unblinking bounty hunter, your newest enemy, stands tall above much of the crowd, and it doesn't take him long to spot your trail.

Thundering forward, happily shoving people you had so politely passed, he roars. Fear ices your stomach.

The sound of a sputtering jetpack drowns out the noise of the people. Never breaking stride, you search for the source of another bounty hunter.

I know I’m a runaway slave who assaulted her master before turning him into a carbonsicle but, banthashit, is the price on my head really that high?

The massive hunter gains on you, and just as you clear the other side of the crowd, you gasp, pained, when he snatches your hair. You whirl, packing all of your strength into your right fist. Your blow lands on the creature’s lower jaw, which seems to be two pink tubes, and it wails grotesquely.

The grip on your hair loosens and you rip away, but the much larger creature lunges for you again. It pulls you upward by your shirt this time, and you scream. Kicking out, your foot knocks a breath from the ugly bounty hunter, but it does not release you.

Staring at you with shallow black eyes, it speaks in a language you don’t understand, but the intonation is clearly a question.

Gasping, you boldly say, “Let go of me and I’ll tell you.”

The creature seems to understand Basic because his three-fingered hand leaves your shirt.

Before you get a chance to make up a lie, the hulking bounty hunter vanishes in a flash of silver. Your head snaps in the direction of travel, and a trail of exhaust follows.

A hundred yards away, the jetpack flares out and the two fall to the ground in a tumble of fighting. A strangled laugh exits your mouth.

From bigger fish to bigger fish. Eventually the biggest fish would win and come after you.

The sound of the ugly creature roaring ends abruptly with a choked grunt. You push your legs hard as you run. The doorway to a cantina catches your eye as an intoxicated human stumbles out, and you rush past him.

Inside the dark, clamorous, smoky business, you slide into the booth furthest from the door, hoping that neither hunter saw you duck in. Panting heavily, you tell the droid waitress you’d like a bit of spotchka. You’ve never had it, but you’ve seen how relaxed and brave it makes people and that sounds wonderful right about now.

The circular cantina door slides open and the silhouette of a tall, broad Mandalorian is outlined by the glaring sun. You can’t tell what color or condition his armor is in, but your stomach clenches all the same. It had been an entire revolution of the planet since your Mandalorian had left, so it can't be him.

Wonder if he found his friend, you think about his ten-thousand-credit question for the Hutt. Must’ve been quite a reunion if it was worth that much.

Shrinking back against the wall of your booth, you shift completely out of sight and pray to whatever Ancient is listening that the stories about their helmets’ capabilities are exaggerations.

The droid waitress sets your pretty blue drink on the table without comment, for which you’re grateful. You don’t think your voice works.

Clinking metal is audible despite the volume of the rowdy bar. The sound gradually grows louder as he approaches your booth.

“What are you doing?” The Mandalorian has his hands on his hips, and though you cannot see his face, you’re certain he looks like a disapproving parent.

“I- what?” You squeak, completely confused by his question. And why he's here.

He moves to sit down across from you, and your nerves flare.

“Why are you still here?” He asks the same question you want to ask him.

“Where was I supposed to go? I have no credits.”

“There is work available on this planet.”

You pause, unhappy to give away just how out of your depth you are, “You mean paid employment? I’m not familiar with the process."

The Mandalorian doesn’t speak, he simply stares at you until you break your stare first.

Looking down at the grimy table, you trace a piece of graffiti with your finger and whisper, “Thank you.”

Mando shifts his head in askance.

“For saving me from the slave hunter.”

“He wasn’t a slave hunter.” Mando’s helmet tips down to where the bright blue liquid sits on the table. “You going to drink that?”

You shake your head, too self-conscious now.

“Good.”

He slides out from the booth and motions for you to walk ahead of him.

________________________________

Standing in the bay of the Mandalorian’s ship once more, you engage in a staring contest with the little green baby as it sits on the floor. Its ears move like he’s listening to Mando speak on his holocall above in the cockpit, but its eyes remain on you.

You’ve always liked children. While they could be blunt, they were kind to you and other slaves because they hadn’t yet learned any differently.

“How old are you?” You ask softly.

In your experience, children prefer to be spoken to as one would an adult, so you refrain from the baby-voice that springs to the surface when you look at the adorable infant.

He tilts his ears toward you.

“You’re pretty cute." The baby coos, then babbles once.

“You really are cute. And you seem highly intelligent. Have you been with the Mandalorian long? He seems to pick up strays easily,” you smile warmly.

The child awkwardly gets to its feet, toddling toward you. Remembering how quickly Mando had taken the child away when it last interacted with you, you slowly move backward toward the ladder. You don’t know if it's dangerous. Maybe the cuteness is a front.

A gurgling noise, as if it’s trying to tell you something, breaks from its little mouth. He raises his hand, pointing, and you whirl.

The Mandalorian is but a few feet away, watching.

How the kark did he get down the ladder so quietly?

“I’m sorry,” you don’t know what you’re apologizing for.

Mando strides around you and crouches to pick up the baby, “We're leaving this planet. I won't have enough fuel to get across the galaxy, but there is a job a few systems over."

He cradles the child so gently that it makes your heart ache.

Who is this guy?

The child in his arms makes grabby hands at his helmet, so he tenderly sets it back down. Mando heads back toward the cockpit, indicating you should follow.

Up the ladder, sitting once again in the same seat, you keep your eyes on the Mandalorian as he begins the lengthy takeoff procedures.

“The bounty hunter you encountered was not after the slave reward.”

“But she knew my name?”

“I am referring to the Aqualish you punched.”

“Oh.”

The Mandalorian does not immediately continue, focusing on his tasks for several minutes.

“There is a reward out for you,” he flips another switch. “And a bounty.”

“Both? Why both?”

“The bounty is secondary. Dependant on you giving them m-”

A panicked, childish cry echoes from below, and you’re only a moment behind the Mandalorian as he leaps down the hatch to the hold.

You gasp in horror as you see the long-eared, big-eyed baby squished in the crook of another kriffing bounty hunter’s arm. The loading ramp closes slowly behind him. He must’ve jumped in at the last moment.

Mando raises his hands, indicating his desire to negotiate.

“Do not hurt him,” he says. Instead of coming out as a plea, his vocoded words come out as a warning that makes your hair stand on end.

“Din Djarin, you are wanted for the murder of Senator Nesota’s son. I know your reputation, and therefore do not wish to fight. I’ll release your… this," he nods at the green baby, "when you’re in carbonite. There,” the human bounty hunter nods his head at Din’s own carbon freezer.

He killed a Senator’s kid?

The child frowns, his ears drooping, and he focuses hard on the bounty hunter. His little hand curls, and the man’s ruddy face turns purple. His eyes grow red and glassy.

Din reacts quickly, drawing his blaster and firing at the hunter’s face. The man falls with a clattering thunk, and the child rolls away, unmoving.

“No," you cry. "Is he alright?” You start toward the kid, fear in your voice.

“He’s fine,” the Mandalorian replies, holding his palm up for you to stay back. He reverently lifts the unconscious kid. “He’s just asleep.”

The Mandalorian - Din Djarin - murdered an important person’s child. And his own kid just choked someone without using its hands? I didn’t inhale spice, did I?

“You killed a kid?”

Din believes you’re still thinking of the baby in his arms. “I said he’s sleeping.”

“A Senator’s son?”

“Oh. Yes, the Rodian with Salaa.” Din hadn’t known he was the son of a powerful person, but it wouldn’t have mattered.

Relief floods you once again as your evaluation of the Mandalorian’s character remains intact. After seeing the way he cared for the little green one, how could you have believed he would harm any child?

“Okay." You return to the wildest topic, "What just happened with your kid?”

Din sighs. This was getting more dangerous than negotiating with a Tusken. He places the kid in his hammock and shuts the door.

Turning on you, he threatens, “Never speak of him outside this ship.”

“I- I wouldn’t,” you promise, surprised by the fierceness in his voice.

Din is satisfied. He’d watched you speak to his ward earlier, and the kid seems to like you immensely. But he doesn't solely rely on the kid's opinion.

The experienced, Mandalorian bounty hunter's own character assessment is top-notch, and he finds that he feels strongly about you. He doesn't categorize or identify the specifics, however.

The Mandalorian does not ask for your help in removing the dead bounty hunter from his ship, so you look on in silence as he does it alone. He lowers the landing ramp, drags the body to the edge, and watches it roll down unceremoniously. He turns and stalks past you.

“So, where's that job?”

“The Outer Rim.”

You sigh. “Of course it is.”

__________________________________

The planet blinds you when the Razor Crest launches out of hyperdrive. Brilliantly green, the single sun reflects the vibrant landscape right into your eyes.

Shielding your face, you venture a question. The Mandalorian had not finished explaining.

"Why is there a bounty on me?"

Even through the modulator, you can hear his dry tone: "You aided a bounty hunter in entering the Hutt's hideout through false pretenses which ended in the blasting of a Senator's son."

"Right," you frown, slumping in your seat.

"Don't worry. The bounty on my head is far larger than yours."

You scoff under your breath. So reassuring.

A deep breath, then you postulate, "Is that what the bounty hunter was asking me? About you?"

Din doesn't respond. He didn't hear the Aqualish's question. He was too busy aiming at its body with his own, but his best guess is yes.

"That's the reason you saved me," you mutter, oddly dejected.

A loose end. That's what you are.

Din often - almost constantly, actually - appreciated his helmet for the freedom it gave him to show any emotion at any time. No need to worry about a convincing poker face when no one could see it.

"You could have told them where my ship was."

"Except I thought you'd flown away the day before," you argue, saddened that he thought you would’ve talked.

Of course, he didn't know you, and he had a child to protect, but it still stings.

"Why not just kill me?" You wonder seriously.

You're a liability. Two separate prices on your head? The Mandalorian's easiest solution is obvious. A slave of no importance, no one would put a bounty on his head for your death.

Din Djarin's armor clanks as he spins the chair a quarter-turn toward you and he cocks his head.

"I don't want to die," you read his body language correctly. "But I don't understand you."

The Mandalorian silently returns to his piloting duties as he nears the lush planet. He does his best to shut his thoughts away, but he stumbles over you again and again.

Din had rescued you because he didn’t want to see you harmed for his actions with the Hutt. The idea of protecting himself from prying questions had been an afterthought.

He had flown above the city, looking for your trail. Since you hadn’t moved much, there wasn’t much of a trail to find. Then he spotted the crowd roiling and parting for the violent Aqualish.

When he watched it yank your hair, he felt angry. An emotion he experienced less frequently than many of his friends would believe. Frustration, irritation, sure. But true fury was rare for him.

Not wanting you dead was basic decency, but the anger had been interesting.

On some level, Din knows his emotional responses to you deserve greater scrutiny. But he doesn't have the time nor the energy.

When the Razor Crest lands in a grassy clearing between forest walls, Din rises from his chair and commands, “Stay here. Watch the child.”

“O-okay,” you agree hesitantly. “What do I do when he wakes up?”

The Mandalorian stares, uncomprehending.

“You… you don’t do anything for his… condition?”

“I told you he’s fine.” Din thinks for a moment, and remembers there is actually something you should know: “When he wakes up, he might be hungry. Do not let him eat the metal ball on the thruster.”

With that, he climbs down the ladder, and out of sight.

_________________________________

As the fist flies at you, you subconsciously register that your assailant must be right-handed, because this left hook is much sloppier than the other. Or maybe it's because his left arm is still human.

Ducking, you escape the jab and slam your palm-sized stick into the quarry's metal shins. He doesn’t react except to kick your thigh. You cry out, knowing it will bruise if you survive this.

The blaster you had taken from the Mandalorian’s cache lies just out of reach. The silver gleam is stark against the rich soil of the forest floor.

Enraged, the cyborg quarry leaps at your hunched form, knocking you flat. Surprised by his speed, you forget to keep hold of the heavy branch you use as a weapon.

The growling man rips the stick from your hands and slams it against your throat like a vise, choking you, “Die, wretch.”

You turn your head to the side, providing yourself with a precious moment of air before the quarry shifts to cut that escape route off, too.

Swinging your leg up, you kick him in the back of the head, pushing him forward. You take the opportunity to headbutt him - thankful that his head is still completely human - and he falls sideways. Right next to your blaster.

You snatch up your wooden weapon, but it's too late.

He laughs mechanically as he grabs the blaster, swinging it at you. “Too late, sweetheart.”

Panting, you don't raise your hands. If he's going to kill you, he'll do it when you charge him.

You take a step and the sound of a laserblast ricochets through the trees.

The creature cries out, dropping the weapon, his arm useless at his side. Wires spark from the elbow joint that had been blown away.

"Found you," the Mandalorian says flatly, his blaster pointed at the machine.

The metal man lunges but Din fires again - hitting the quarry in what should be its gut. It doubles over, groaning, then topples, fighting for labored breath.

He must still have lungs underneath, you shudder.

Still trying to catch your own breath, you gasp, "How-"

"Heard the fight. You were supposed to stay on the ship," his voice turns scolding.

Clenching your jaw, you finally find a steady breath. You had stayed on the ship. This piece of space junk had broken inside through the cockpit window.

As you sat in the hold, dutifully watching the kid, the sound of glass shattering alerted you that it was not Din who was back so soon. You had snatched up the baby, touching him for the first time with no concern about his potential dangers, locked him in the little room, and ripped a small blaster from the Razor Crest’s weapons cache.

You crouched at the far end of the hold, against the closed boarding ramp, waiting, uncomfortably far from the child.

A cyborg, more spidery-droid than man, with a human head and fleshy left arm had come skittering down, bypassing the ladder completely. Unwilling to chance a blaster shot going through the baby’s door, you hit the button on the landing ramp and scrambled out.

The forest. It was your home. Your element. If there was any chance you could kill it, to prove to yourself that you could survive this life - it was then and there.

Of course, you hadn't expected the quarry to get your blaster.

"I tried," you breathe as Din binds the still-groaning quarry.

The helmet turns to face you, understanding. "He entered the ship?”

You nod, and Din stands bolt-upright, his head whipping in the direction of the Razor Crest.

“It’s fine,” you assure him pointedly, walking with your hand outstretched toward the worried Mandalorian. You remember your promise not to speak of the child, “Your ship is fine. Knew you'd hate it if he trashed the thing, so I ran out here.”

The Mandalorian visibly relaxes his broad shoulders, and your heart tugs once again.

"Thank you," Din says with hidden feeling.

His sincerity wedges a lump in your throat.

He really loves that little guy.

Din turns and snatches the connector between the binders, pulling the quarry. Its metal feet dig trenches as it tries to stall, but the Mandalorian is far too strong.

Somehow, it's the first time you've truly noticed. Din is extremely strong. Is it the suit?

Can't be. It's just metal and fabric.

The realization might as well be a thunderbolt to your brain. Your assailant must weigh as much as a land speeder, and here your bounty hunter was carting him along like a sack of starfruit.

An unfamiliar feeling, something like hot, sharp sparks shoot through your stomach. Your eyes follow the Mandalorian as he makes his way back to the Razor Crest.

Is this attraction? You’ve never experienced it. Far too busy surviving, wanting someone in that way is a foreign concept to you. You roll your eyes at yourself. Din Djarin, a kriffing Mandalorian bounty hunter is not going to look twice at a slave, and it's best to kill those feelings before they take root.

***

Across the large clearing, at the ship, the bounty hunter waits patiently while the boarding ramp lowers.

“She yours?” The quarry asks curiously, his voice wheezing. "You orbited me like a karking moon, but as soon as I go after her, you come runnin’.” It laughs.

The cyborg doesn't expect a verbal answer; he wants a reaction.

Din turns his head slowly with a cold warning, “I would advise you to stop speaking.”

“I damaged her pretty good for you. Might wanna che-” his taunting words end in a pained grunt when Din slams his fist into the man’s cruel mouth.

Surprised by the sudden violence, you inhale sharply. Din hadn’t knocked the thing unconscious, so what was the point of that?

The Mandalorian hauls the creature up the ramp and shoves him into the carbon freezer.

“Should’ve killed me,” the cyborg threatens with a laugh as he freezes into a solid mass.

Din turns to face you and asks in a low voice, “Are you injured?”

The rush of adrenaline you had been riding on slowly fades, and you remember the only blow you’d received had been the one to the side of your thigh. Your hand falls to it, feeling the area through your tattered pants.

A small amount of blood comes away on your fingers.

“Oh,” you murmur.

You pull up the ripped, baggy material, exposing your entire leg. The skin had split with the force of the blow, but there’s no serious damage and it would heal on its own.

The cyborg must’ve been trying to unnerve us. Or distract the Mandalorian? Maybe he thought Din would check right away, you almost laugh aloud at the ridiculous idea.

Din, for his part, really wishes you would let your pant leg fall. It’s insane, it makes no sense to him. Millions of people walked around in far, far less clothing than you, and Din never reacted like this.

But here you stand before him, slowly checking out the inch-long cut on your mid-thigh, and the Mandalorian can’t tear his eyes away.

When you look up at the helmet of Din Djarin, he fixes his face as though you could actually see the way his lips had parted. You fleetingly, timidly, smile at him and, miraculously, let go of the flowy pant leg.

Released from the spell, Din exhales and makes his way to the child’s room.

“You can use the refresher to clean that, if you’d like.” He does not look at you as he speaks.

“Is the baby okay?”

Din need not answer as the child himself murmurs in happiness at the sight of the two of you. To Din’s abject shock, the kid lifts his hands toward you.

You laugh once, flattered. “Can I?”

Din simply turns sideways so that you can fit between him and the hull wall. You reach for the child and it snuggles into your arms, touching your chin.

A brilliant smile lights your face.

“Are we friends now?” You whisper to him.

The baby babbles a response you’ll take as an affirmative.

“I’ve not asked. What’s his name?” You turn your still-smiling face up to Din.

Again thanking the Mythosaur for his helmet, he stares, stuck on your glowing expression as you cradle his ward. His brown eyes swim with an emotion he’s never felt.

“I don't know.”

Taken aback, you realize that there is a far deeper story here.

Did he steal this baby?

You move on quickly, “What do you call him?”

Din shrugs. “Kid.”

The child makes a cooing sound, then reaches for the Mandalorian. You hand the baby to his stoic guardian, and your smile changes to a satisfied one.

“He looks like he belongs there,” you laugh. Then your eyebrows pull together as you regret the too-comfortable comment.

He’s a bounty hunter, a killer, and he may or may not have stolen this fuzzy, long-eared infant.

And you’re just a runaway slave.

You back up a step, feeling awkward now. “You said I could use the ‘fresher?”

Din simply nods his head in the direction of the tiny facility.

When you've shut the door, Din's body relaxes.

***

But not for long. He didn't account for the sound of your clothes hitting the floor and the sound of the sonics. You are steps away, unclothed, and some wild instinct inside him awakens. Ashamed, he sets the child back in the hammock and climbs up to the cockpit to relieve himself.

_________________________________

The planet is purple. Dark and cloudy, the yellow, green, and blue street lights cast strange shadows. Neon signs of every shade flash from every corner. You've been to thousands of cities like this one. An underworld.

The Mandalorian landed the Razor Crest on the outskirts despite there being a busy spaceport made for that purpose. He transported the carbonite body of the cyborg to the edge of the city where he was met by some anonymous creature in a cloak. He asked no questions.

Din had entrusted you with the care of the child. He directed you and the kid to go on ahead to one of the less-reputable inns. The worse-looking, the better. People were more likely to mind their business.

You've found the perfect one. Din wanted seedy, he was getting the seediest. After all, most of your tasks as a slave had been spent in this environment since your masters hated to be seen in them.

But seedy didn't always mean crumbling and derelict.

Din, having tracked the child's chain code, returns later that night. His eyebrows rise at the size of the room.

"I said find an inconspicuous place to hide. You got the emperor's suite," he places his hands on his hips.

There are technically three rooms: the main living space, complete with couch, table, and a space to prepare food; and two small bedrooms both on the same side of the building.

"It was their only available room. Trust me, this place is as disreputable as they come. And he didn't upcharge," you rise from the couch. "If that was what you were worried about. I… made a deal with the clerk."

Din advances on you, "A deal?" His voice is tight.

"I didn’t involve you. I promise."

The Mandalorian clenches his teeth. Anything involving you, involves him.

"The kid?"

You tilt your chin across the apartment and laugh, "He wanted the room with all the toys.”

Din disappears into the room, and you chuckle at how long the child had been fascinated by the weird sculptures inside.

A low, rasping voice travels from the open door, "Hey, kid. Missed you, too."

Your smile deepens and your heart swells with emotion toward the two of them. Though they are not your family, it's comforting to watch them be one.

The modulated voice sounds again with a short laugh, "She can't hear you. Do you want her?"

You shake your head fondly, the kid had been babbling and reaching for you every time you set him down.

After a significant pause, Din softly admits, "I agree. I like her, too."

Flushing with shame for eavesdropping, you move to the far side of the apartment, to another large window.

Several minutes later, quiet footsteps get louder as Din leaves the child's room and closes the door.

"He tried to lift one of the sculptures," Din scoffs.

You laugh, picturing the child peacefully sleeping after tiring himself with the effort. It wasn't the first time today. Growing serious, you turn to face the Mandalorian.

"He helped me today. Someone grabbed at me and he… did what he does."

Din takes two huge strides toward you. "Did anyone see? What happened?"

"No one saw. It was in a closed alley. I-" you pause in momentary reluctance, then remember who you're talking to. "I took care of it."

You glance at the blaster on the table that Din had given you earlier that morning.

For the first time in a long time, Din's sigh is one of relief instead of irritation.

"Thank you," he says. "Again."

You wave him off, "It was between a scumsucker and the kid. Wasn't exactly hard," you try to make light of it.

Din shakes his head slightly. "I've seen you use a blaster. I'm glad the kid was there," he deadpans.

You exhale in feigned irritation, pleased by his playfulness.

He comes to stand next to you at the open window, and the peaceful silence is companionable.

As the breeze flutters, you shiver noticeably and his torn, rough cape curls into your ankle. The Mandalorian turns his head to you and reads how low your heat signature is.

Din stalks back to the entryway where he had set down a cloth bag. He snatches it up and brings it over to you.

"I hope they are acceptable."

Hands outstretched, you freeze as you realize you're being given a gift. You blink and look up, desperately trying to read a face you know you can't.

"Um, I've never -" you whisper, needing to tell him why you look like you've been struck. "Never had someone give me something."

Inside his beskar armor, Din grimaces. Had he overstepped? It might get even worse when you see how personal the items are.

He releases his hold on the bag and you open it, pulling out a pair of clothes. They're dark blue, and, while somewhat flowy like your current clothes, these do not have holes, stains, nor bad memories associated.

And they are a gift from Din Djarin.

How do you thank him for these? They certainly weren't cheap. The clothing is sturdy but light, beautiful but practical.

Embarrassingly, tears collect in your eyes.

"Oh, wow," you look up at him, panicking. "I can't take these." It was too much.

Din has an excuse in his arsenal.

"Take it as payment for your help with the kid."

You look back down at the material in your hands, rubbing the soft fabric.

"Thank you, Din. Really. I- I don't know how to thank you. You have been so kind to me."

His cheek pulls upward when you say his name for the first time. How sweet it sounds in your mouth.

"You needed them. These," he waves at the shredded scraps on your frame, "are no longer clothes."

You smile timidly, unused to being treated so well. "I'm going to go take them off and burn them."

The Mandalorian taps his vambrace. "I have the means when you're ready."

"Thank you again," you murmur, escaping to the refresher.

Din steps to the center of the room and places a hologram disk on the low table.

While you're busy, he's going to figure out how to get out of this.

***

After an actual shower, real water loosening the knots in your muscles, you exhale in pleasure at the feeling of the clean, well-made clothing on your skin. You feel like a person.

It's similar to seeing hyperspace for the first time. It scares you with how good it feels, knowing you’ve missed out on so much.

You slide open the refresher door to see Din seated on the couch, facing away from you. He sits reclined, his legs spread wide. The Mandalorian hears the door open, but he does not turn.

Stomach growling, you head to the cold storage near the front door. The box of food you'd bought from a vendor sits on the countertop. You unpack it carefully, still in disbelief you can eat whatever you want.

"Are you hungry?" You call to the Mandalorian as you continue to pull items from the box.

"You are no longer a slave. You do not have to serve me." The deep, rough voice sounds from right behind you, and you jump in surprise.

"Dank farrik, you move quietly."

Din reaches around you for one of the fruits you had purchased with his credits. His nearness has your body tensing, but he backs away almost immediately.

"How do you eat with that on?" You wonder, clearly meaning his helmet.

"I don't," he answers, walking into the other bedroom.

***

A week passes in that calm hotel apartment. The child provided more than enough entertainment for you, attempting to lift different objects of his desire at random.

For Din, so used to the child's antics, you are the object of his attention. You brush it off when he stands near you at the window, when he ensures that you have something to eat, and when he silently takes the couch over the comfortable bed.

But you're unable to ignore his touch.

Just after you wake, the dual suns begin to peek around the tall city buildings. Trying not to wake Din on the couch, you tiptoe to the window in the main room, still enthralled with the city view. You’ve seen cities thousands of times throughout your enslavement, often imagining running away to explore. Now that you have the opportunity, you find that you don’t want to go.

Seated on the bare floor, your arms wrapped around your knees as you watch the suns rise, you're wandering down halls of your own thoughts when a voice drifts into your consciousness.

"I will get your bounty lifted."

Turning your head, Din leans forward on the couch, his forearms on his knees.

"If that's what you are concerned about."

You shake your head, "I'm not concerned. I think I'm happy."

You had just come to that conclusion a moment earlier. It's an emotion you don't remember feeling. It's like your lungs are expanding after twenty years of suffocation.

You look back at the city and smile contentedly, "This is the best my life has been."

The admission is extremely personal, but you can’t keep it to yourself. It’s liberating. You weren't ready to fight for your freedom when the Mandalorian came for your master, but you are now.

Din’s footsteps advance on you until he’s standing off to your right. He says nothing.

After an interminable length of time, wondering what he’s doing, you twist and look up at him. His helmet turns toward the window just as you face him.

His hands are folded behind him, but a sliver of something flesh-toned is visible.

Is that his wrist?

Your stomach drops. His bare skin. It looks warm-toned and soft. You close your eyes and turn away, back toward the window.

“I am glad,” Din says.

“About what?” Since it has been several minutes since either of you have spoken, you’re unsure if he’s responding or making a statement.

He simply looks back down at you as if that answers your question.

“We’ll be leaving today,” Din continues to study you, appreciating the way the orange dawn lights your face. “You’ve almost drained me of credits with this palace of a hotel.”

You deny the accusation with a laugh, “I did not. I told you I made a deal.”

“And you have not told me what that deal was,” he says, a hint of a threat in his tone.

Din is on edge about your ‘deal.’ The night before, he had gone down to the reception desk to intimidate the clerk about it, but the employee you’d dealt with hadn’t been there.

“I promised you already - it has nothing to do with you or him,” you motion toward the child’s room. “It is not worth your attention.”

Din scowls. “You are also under my charge, and if you’ve placed yourself in danger, I need to be aware of it.”

Your face snaps up, uselessly trying to make eye contact with him. His charge? Why does your face feel hot at those words?

Finally taking pity on him, you answer, “He was a gambler. I bet him I could win more rounds of sabacc. And I did.”

The Mandalorian is stock-still. That was all? Din had gotten incredibly worked up over what you could possibly owe this mysterious desk clerk, and all you’d done was a bit of hustling?

“Why would you not tell me that right away?”

“I didn’t want to seem like I was bragging,” you frown. Din had tasked you with something and you had wanted to complete it with as little fanfare as possible.

“What other skills have you been hiding?” Din’s tone is half-mocking, half-serious. He knows next to nothing about you despite the monopoly you’ve had on his thoughts.

You side-eye him, unsure of his intention. “I can do basic ship repairs. I can speak four languages. I know how to fight.”

“I am not convinced of that last one.”

“The cyborg caught me on a bad day,” you protest.

"It was fortunate you were not seriously injured. I wouldn't have the credits for this," he nods his head up at the high ceiling.

For the second time, your head turns to scrutinize him, but he’s as impenetrable as ever.

"Why not?"

Din's silver face snaps down to you. "The quarry would not have made it into the carbon freezer."

And as you open your mouth - to say what, you have no idea - a quiet knock raps on the front door.

Spooked, you whirl so that you face the door, still seated.

“It’s alright,” Din’s deep, rough voice soothes.

When he holds out his hand to help you stand, you take it without second thought.

But it wasn’t just a hint of his wrist that you saw - his gloves are completely off. His rough palm slides into your grasp, and his thick fingers close around your hand.

Eyes widening, you audibly gasp.

Din raises you to your feet with no effort, and you wind up far too close to him. Your breath fogs on his chestplate, and your pulse thrums in your ears.

Too-quickly, his thumb rubs your skin, and then he releases your hand. Do you imagine the sigh he makes as he steps away?

Your eyes are glued to his broad form as he retrieves his gloves from the couch, then heads to answer the door.

“Should I -?” You whisper.

“Stay,” he says simply.

It’s unbelievable how one word could affect you. You swallow hard and clasp your hands together in front of you.

***

“As you are well aware, Mandalorian, my esteemed patron was unhappy to hear about her son’s death. However, you are of concern to us for a different reason. If we are able to reward you for your silence regarding where her son was at the time of his unfortunate, accidental death, this business might be put behind us.”

The slimeball flashes her biggest smile at the bounty hunter.

“What am I being paid to be silent about? The Hutt was banished by the Republic due to his slavery connections. Is the Senator afraid of her choice in friends being known?”

The emissary smiles nastily. “Let us say that the Hutt is also on my list of individuals to speak with.”

“I require explicit terms regarding this agreement. I am a Mandalorian, I can assure you of my discretion.”

“Very well. You will not divulge the conversation regarding slavery you overheard between the Senator’s son and Salaa the Hutt, and we shall reward you with twenty-thousand credits to be paid over the course of three months.”

To your horror, Din rises from the couch and nods his head, saying, “I accept your terms.”

“And what about her?” The emissary wrinkles her nose as she indicates you.

“She is a slave,” the Mandalorian says with harsh finality.

You physically shrink next to him. He had insisted you remain while they spoke, but now you’re regretting agreeing to it.

The distaste with which he had uttered the word ‘slave’ makes you feel unclean, unwanted. Tears threaten to spill over, and you keep your head down in a familiar, submissive posture in case they do.

The bounty hunter escorts the Twi’lek emissary to the door while you sit, head bowed, on the couch.

“Senator Nesota will be most appreciative. If you are ever in Coruscant, she would be delighted to have you visit her apartments. They are most grand.” She disapprovingly glances around the hotel room. “I assume you had your slave pick this one.” The emissary briefly places her hand on the Mandalorian’s forearm, “Remember, we are friends now, Din Djarin.”

The helmet saves his entire operation, for Din cannot stop the disgusted scowl that mars his face. This piece of scum uses his name to both threaten and flirt; the difference in his feelings between her saying it and you saying it are blindingly stark.

“I do not have friends. My name is not for your use,” he says evenly as he punches the button for the front door.

The emissary walks away without another word.

When Din closes the door, he turns back to you with a sense of relief for more than one reason.

But something is wrong.

“Do you not feel well?”

You shake your head, “I misunderstood something. That’s all.” Your head remains bowed.

“You will not look at me.”

“I am… embarrassed,” you mutter honestly.

An emotion Din has never experienced or understood, he is at a loss. Instead, he sits across from you and tosses you the recorder.

The small, comm-looking device lands on your lap, and you pick it up, curiously rolling it in your hands. You press the button.

“Very well. You will not divulge the conversation regarding slav-”

You stop the device and look up at Din with renewed hope, “You were lying.”

Din leans forward in his seat, “I was not lying. I gave her my word as a Mandalorian. But you didn’t.”

“That’s a stretch and you know it,” you laugh.

Din shrugs. The moral reasoning works for him.

“I am to send this recording to the Republic, correct? Get the senator removed from office?”

“She will no longer have the funds to pay our bounties. They will be considered void.”

Your smile falters. He had done what he promised.

Din tilts his head, “You’re unhappy about that?”

“It’s not your problem, of course. But I have to deal with the slaver’s reward. And… and I am not sure what I should do, where I should go.”

Really, you’re saddened because there is no longer any reason for you to stay. You wish there was.

The Mandalorian is silent, weighing his choice of words carefully.

"There is room on the Razor Crest. The kid is fond of you. I can pay you for your services to him. And, occasionally, the ship needs repairs - you can assist me with those.”

“Is this that ‘legal employment’ you told me I needed?” You grin. “I would like that very much.”

“You will need to learn how to fight, though,” he shakes his head, his tone teasing. “The kid can’t save you every time.”

____________________________________

You sit on the hold floor, the child in your arms. Having left the inn rather early, the child is still asleep.

Jostling as Din lands the Razor Crest on a new planet, you slowly stand and place the little lump in his hammock and shut the door.

The Mandalorian drops down into the hold, passing you and hitting the button for the boarding ramp. Deciding to trust him, you don't ask where you're being taken.

The answer isn't far. Din stops right at the treeline and hands you the same silver blaster from the previous week's fight with the cyborg.

"You need to learn to use it."

"I've done well with a blaster before," you protest. "I shot Rathos."

"But you didn't shoot the cyborg," you can hear the frown in his deep voice. "Pick a tree."

Nervous to be evaluated by a master of the craft, you hesitate briefly before aiming at a massive trunk a few speeders lengths away.

The plate of his armor brushes against your back as the Mandalorian gingerly sets his heavy hands on your shoulders, straightening them. With his boot, he taps the inside of your foot, indicating you should widen your stance.

You blink rapidly. Your face flushes with warmth. Why is your heart thundering? Can he hear it?

He can.

His own heart rate increases when his helmet's display shows your heat signature rising. Din pushes it further: his leather-covered hands slide down to your waist where he turns you a fraction - completely unnecessarily.

Close enough that, were he unveiled, you could feel his breath, he murmurs, "Fire."

Utterly distracted, you squeeze the trigger as a matter of following his command. The blaster shot continues on through the treetops, singeing leaves.

Din straightens, his hands leaving your body, and he huffs.

"You distracted me," you explain. "I can hit it."

You realign the weapon and inhale deeply, releasing on the exhale just as you would with an arrow.

The tree sizzles as you hit it dead-center.

Spinning to face him triumphantly, the smile freezes on your lips.

One of the suns on this planet has begun to drop behind him, and his large frame casts you in shadow. He still hasn't moved away from you. The way his mask is angled toward you makes you believe he's lost in thought.

"What is it?" You whisper in the tense silence.

Din feels dizzy. You're a natural with a weapon you'd fired all of three times. Your words cudgel his mind. He had distracted you enough to miss a huge karking tree.

"Do it again."

You nod and return to the target. Throwing your mind back to your childhood, you once again hit the tree dead-on.

Weighing the blaster in your hand, you turn back to him and say, "I still prefer wooden weapons. Or at least something resembling a spear."

"Why is that?" His voice is rough, and his hands find a home on his hips.

"That's how I grew up," you answer.

"Okay. Grab one."

Your mouth drops open in confusion, but he finally leaves your personal space and picks up a slender, twigless branch.

"You can't be serious," you sputter a laugh, certain he had just found a sense of humor. "I'm not fighting you."

"Why not?"

"Um. Because I can't."

"You can." He holds the stick out toward you.

You stare at him, watchful, as you curl your fingers around it. Din removes a small, cylindrical object from his utility belt. He pumps it once and it unfolds into a thin cane-like weapon.

"It's been twenty years," you frown. "You're going to win."

But, when that makeshift spear is in your hand, it all rushes back. The key to winning is in gaining ground. Whatever you do, push your opponent back. So, you launch at him first.

Only partially surprised by the speed of the typically-timid girl now coming for his throat, Din manages to duck out of the way just in time. But you whirl to the opposite side he expects, and swing your weapon into his helmet. It clangs, and you stand upright.

"I'm sorry!" You react, fearful both from years of mistreatment and not wanting to hurt Din.

He ignores you, swishing his weapon toward your middle, and you jump backward. Hating that you conceded even that little ground, you quickly drop to a crouch and sweep at his knees like Rathos did to you.

Din rockets upward a few feet, then drops back down on your other side. He swings at you and you parry.

Dancing for several steps, you eventually land a blow to his ribs where the beskar does not cover. Din's modulated groan makes you feel a rush of two separate emotions.

You don't want to hurt him, but that sound ignites a heat between your legs.

Din retaliates, kicking his tipless spear into your chest and shoving you backward. He knows your move, now. You don't like giving up ground, so you'll throw yourself at him, arms raised to strike.

When you do exactly as he predicts, he drops his weapon completely, grabbing you around the waist and spinning. He throws you to the ground, coming down on top of you.

You laugh, exhilarated, "Almost."

Something is jabbing your hip, and when you shift to identify it, Din grunts again. Your eyes shoot to his hidden face.

Under the helmet, Din's brown eyes are blown, pained at how aroused he is. He can't handle much more of this. Your wide eyes and galloping heart match his, but underneath him you look so vulnerable that he feels downright predatory. His stiff length twitches.

Din’s voice is raw, barely contained, "Tell me to stop and I will." His gloved thumbs push your bottoms down.

Speechless, your core pulsing, you nod.

Din unfastens the material around his middle, pulls his desperate cock from the flight suit, and hastily positions himself against you. Your slick coats him as he drags himself through your folds. He groans through the modulator.

“Oh,” you gasp when he eases the tip past your entrance.

Unable to wait a moment longer, Din sheaths himself inside you with a determined grunt, his patch of dark curls mingling with yours.

Your hands try to fist in his flight suit, eyes wide at the incredible feeling of him filling you. His right hand cradles your jaw as he starts to rock his hips, cursing as he does so.

For the first time in his life, Din resents his helmet; both for the separation from your soft skin, and the heightened senses it gives him. How is he supposed to last when he can see your heart racing, hear your quiet cries as though they’re inside his own head?

In an insufficient compromise, he rips off his gloves. His tan skin is calloused and scarred.

“Yes,” you plead.

Din intertwines his fingers on both hands with yours, hypnotized for a precious second by the intimacy. Reverently, you press a kiss to his knuckles. He makes a wild sound deep in his chest, then plunges your hands above your head.

Pushing your chest to his, you signal that he can do anything he wants to you. He collects both your wrists in one hand.

Din rhythmically arcs into you, the sound of his body - soaked from your arousal - striking yours nearly driving you insane. When you’d imagined it before, you wondered if looking into the blank face of his helmet might be off-putting, but you find that it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter because it’s him. If anything, it’s erotic to trust him so blindly.

Din is resolved to know your body better than you do. With his free hand, his fingers nimbly massage your clit until you jerk.

“There?” He confirms.

You nod, unable to speak. His heavy, straining cock dragging through you, and his rough fingers replace the output from all other senses.

When he finds the perfect combination, he doesn’t let up until your eyes screw shut and you shake, incoherent underneath him in ecstasy.

“You can say it,” he hoarsely encourages through the modulator.

It was already on your lips, “Din.”

The hand that acted as a manacle releases you as he places his palm on the ground, giving himself as much leverage to bury himself as deep as possible. The toes of Din’s boots dig up clumps of grass as he thrusts into you, the sound of skin slapping skin lost in the breeze. Your legs curl around his waist, pulling him deeper.

He feels the spark at the base of his spine and knows he doesn’t have much strength left. Your fingers twist into the fabric of his flight suit again, clinging to him for all you’re worth.

Din makes the mistake of looking into your lust-filled eyes as you speak.

“Let go,” you whisper tenderly, feeling his tense body begin to fracture.

Din has no choice but to obey you, pumping himself into you with a long, harsh sigh. He works his release inside you, gradually slowing until his arms shake.

He finally drops to the ground beside you, breathing rapidly.

Suddenly shy, you want nothing more than to reach over and take one of his hands, but you lack the confidence. You also don’t know what to say.

Din doesn’t believe there’s anything to say. He had never been so tempted in all his life, and he had not passed the test. A shred less self-control and his helmet might’ve followed the gloves.

In fact, the temptation is still so strong that he begins to plan for its eventuality.

____________________________________

#din djarin #my fics #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #star wars #star wars fanfic #din djarin fanfic #din djarin fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #Spotify #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #grogu #baby yoda #my writing

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socksjinie · 2 years

Text

🚨 crime 101 — blurb #1.

header & arts — made by @singguks

summary — townsville is not the same as when they were kids... neither are the boys. some things have definitely changed, but not the way the powerpuffs see them. or has it?

genre — powerpuff girls au ; angst ; smut ; fluff

pairing — taehyung x blossom ; jimin x bubbles ; jungkook x buttercup

rating — M

warnings — just buttercup being angry and blossom being done with her sisters for now!

[ masterlist ]

the new beginning.

the city of Townsville wasn’t the same anymore.

back in the day, when the Powerpuffs were only children, crime was manageable and their rivalry was just boys commanded by their criminal dad. every day they would get calls about missing pets, gangsters in the park, and sometimes Mojo Jojo would act up — that would be the highlight of the month as buttercup would call it — but apart from that, there wasn’t much on their plates. not that much to worry about.

and now everything was different. felt different.

for starters, they were teenagers. almost young adults, preparing to leave for college one year from now — if they manage to leave — something that Blossom isn’t very positive about.

and crime in Townsville had aggravated. which was certainly weird because the Rowdyruff boys had left town a couple of years back when their dad had been imprisoned for good… the Powerpuffs weren’t dealing with pickpockets anymore, or even the nuisance that is the Gangreen gang, no. they were now dealing with HIM — his infernal majesty — as he would call himself.

he appeared in town last year, overly flamboyant, toying with everyone’s emotions just to stir things up and show his true intentions: overpower everyone to be the king of an unruled city. and as the powerpuffs came quickly to the rescue of the mayor, who had called them in utter fear, the diabolical being only grew more enthusiastic about the act. since then, HIM had made it his priority to take down the girls — he despised their group and the bond they had. he liked to toy with people's fears, and being in a group only made that harder.

but still, it was manageable. they grew accustomed to fighting and putting their free time aside for the greater good.

and everything, with all its chaos, was in its right place.

until they set foot in school on the very first day of their last high school year.

“and then I heard them talking again which was so weird because not a day before they had declared war against each other…” Bubbles kept rambling words Buttercup pretended not to hear while Blossom led the group ahead, all smiles.

“I honestly don’t know how you get to know all that gossip,” Buttercup dismissed while scrolling through her Spotify playlist in search of a better song; the middle child always had one earpiece on and music serving as her soundtrack.

“oh, shush, you love my reports!” the blondie poked her waist playful, “I know it!” and although Buttercup rolled her eyes, she was also biting down a smile.

“Utonium!” they all heard and the playfulness ceased. Blossom's smile froze on her face.

hearing their last name was always a bad signal, especially on school grounds.

the girls had stopped in the hall as they saw Miss Bellum walking toward them with a cheerful smile. “Are we all ready for our last year?”

“Of course, Miss Bellum!” Blossom answered for the three of them while Bubbles kept smiling — she was very fond of her long-time teacher — and Buttercup just stared with her arms crossed, clearly not interested in talking about school or anything related to it. “This last year will be promising, I can feel it.”

“That’s what I like to hear, Blossom,” the teacher smiled proudly, “I’m looking forward to our ace’s projects this year!”

that’s one of the many reasons Blossom was the head girl of the Powerpuff, and probably the reason why Professor (their father) considered her the oldest even though the three of them had been created on the same day, at the same time. Blossom was the responsible one, the example to follow, the one authorities liked best, and always the best student — not only in her classes but also in the whole school.

“oh and the Principal is looking for you three! step there for a second but don’t arrive late to class!” Miss Bellum advised sternly.

“yes, Miss Bellum!” Blossom and Bubbles answered in unison while Buttercup faked a polite smile.

they kept watching the teacher walking away before taking a right towards the office.

“great, we get to see the little man on our first day!” Buttercup faked enthusiasm, making her sisters laugh.

on the way there, however, Blossom felt weirdly on edge. and what made her worried was that she was always right about these things, she had a “danger sense” after all. so she hurried her pace, making the sisters follow her even if unconsciously.

it was no surprise to anyone in school — or anywhere in Townsville — that the girls possessed superpowers. it was something well known. and they were free to use said powers whenever they needed them in case they were in danger. but it was strictly prohibited to use any of them in their daily lives. the only one allowed, because it wasn’t something she could control, was Blossom’s danger sense.

the redhead made sure to follow Professor’s rules as well as keep her sisters in check. she wouldn’t worry much about Bubbles, the youngest generally followed well what Professor told her… her only problem was that Bubbles refused to not talk to animals, but that was quite harmless, so Blossom didn’t mind it much. as for Buttercup… well, that one was harder. she had quite a temper, and it was hard to make her do something she didn’t want to do, even their father struggled most of the time with that task. what made the leader rest assured was the fact Buttercup normally didn’t care much about anything. she liked to break rules? yes, she did, more often than not. but she also hated the school ambiance and people in general, so she would stay in the shadows, earphones placed and her mind more concerned about her little world. besides, if Blossom was really honest, Buttercup didn’t need her powers to find herself in trouble. last year, her dark-haired sister managed to break a boy’s arm on the school grounds and she wasn’t even using her super-strength. the boy was a bully and she was only defending a peer, but still. she did break his arm.

so when they came to a halt, twenty feet from the Principal's office door, because Bubbles suddenly tugged on their arms stopping them from taking another step, Blossom was taken by surprise.

“I- I know that laughter.” the blonde said, blue eyes shot with shock.

“what laughter?” Blossom asked, concerned.

“no way he- he came back??” Bubbles seemed to be talking to herself, deep in thought. the other two exchanged glances.

Buttercup saw the older sister starting to turn as pink as her eyes glowed, probably realizing what was happening. there was only one thing the sisters did that could piss Blossom off: breaking rules.

“wow!” Buttercup interrupted before the two could start an argument — she had always had a soft spot for Bubbles — feigning surprise in her tone of voice “so this is how you know so much about everyone! damn, Bubbles!”

but the youngest wasn’t even paying attention to what was happening beside her, all of her focus was solely deposited on what was happening behind the Principal's door. and in an outburst act, she stormed in that direction.

when she reached the doorknob and pushed it forward, her sisters were already behind her. Blossom, because she wanted to lecture her, and Buttercup because she was curious to see what the hell was happening that left Bubbles so out of her mind — not that it took much.

“you!” Bubbles pointed even if the door wasn’t all open yet.

and the scene before them triggered different reactions.

Bubbles' eyes were kind of teary, glancing at the boy that marked her childhood so much right in front of her, all grown up. Jimin too couldn’t take his eyes off her, and you could say a melancholic smile was adorning his features. The two were clearly having a mental conversation. Blossom, however, was having a hard time processing what was happening out of sheer panic. her eyes were swiping the room, and every time they fell on Taehyung’s figure, his body language so relaxed while sitting on a chair and determination so big in his eyes, she felt the urge to scream. but actually who executed the action was Buttercup, who gave a glance at where Jungkook was standing, with arms crossed and a cocky smile on his face, and she just couldn’t take it.

so staring deadly at the eyes of their bald Principal she barked, “what the hell are they doing here?!”

the little man cleared his throat, more to recompose himself out of fear Buttercup did something to him than anything else, and calmly proceeded.

“boys, you can go on now. I’ll talk to you soon.” as soon as he said so, Taehyung got up from the chair and led the way through the girls who were still standing right at the door, without hesitating or wasting time looking at anything but forward.

Jimin who turned back to share another meaningful exchange of glances with Bubbles was grabbed by the neck to keep walking by Jungkook that stated, “scratch what I said before, this year will be great after all!” and consequently leaving a jaw clenched Buttercup behind.

[ back to masterlist ]

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lunaastoir · 3 years

Text

fluff/relationships w the liyue crew

characters included: xiao, childe, beidou, and zhongli

ik i forgot ningguang i promise i’ll include her in part 2, i just didn’t have time :(

all x a gn! reader

my liyue babies :,) ft. ningguang in spirit

an: i was listening to my soft playlist (more like listening to cupid’s chokehold on repeat, no i am not basic 🔪) and i thought some fluff headcanons would be cute w these sweet people

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

xiao

ok so no surprise that he hates liyue harbor

he hates anything w a lot of people in it so he prefers to stay at wangshu inn tyvm

but by contrast, you love liyue harbor sm (it’s gorgeous i mean c’mON)

you go there often to retrieve your commissions in order to stay closer to xiao (liyue harbor is closer than mondstadt he argues but you’re well aware that they’re both equally far away)

so if anyone asked, xiao would absolutely refuse to go to the harbor like i hate people??? why would you even ask???

but,,,he’s so sOFT for you

if you asked??? he would agree in a heartbeat

but since he’s >:( angsty boy, he makes you think that he won’t go even when he’s already decided that he’s coming w you

he puts up the “if you so require, then i guess i will assist you with your travels in liyue harbor” but in reality he would definitely have said yes even without the almond tofu

while he hates the harbor, he thinks that with you anything is bearable :,) simp

you take him to see xinyan to vibe w her music and you can tell he really enjoys it

even tho he’s like 🕴 the entire time, you see the softer look on his face and the very slight smile on his lips as he listens to the music and watches the crowd

so so so cute very soft for him

i do see him as a subtly touchy person in public like brushing the hair off your face, swiping his thumb across your cheek, or gently pulling your hair back when you have a plate of food in your hands

the type to link your pinkies together - he claims it’s so you don’t get lost but yk better

after the concert is done you take him to that one waypoint near mt. tianheng and the both of you just watch the city lights and the way they reflect beautifully on the water surrounding the harbor

personal headcanon that xiao absolutely loves stargazing since he believes the stars are the one true constant in his life especially since he’s experienced so much loss (basically they’ll never leave him god i hate myself why do i make everything SAD)

mini headcanon off of that - he doesn’t stargaze with people,,, like ever

it’s something he loves to do alone so the fact that he lets you stargaze w him and even allows you to shift your head onto his lap while you watch the sky is a huge deal

he loves it when you softly whisper abt how your day was or something you saw that made you laugh

he just loves hearing your voice, it automatically calms the voices in his head

you absolutely ADORE when he has flowers in his hair especially cecilias (cecillias? ceccillias? idfk) and you make a point whenever you go to mondstadt to pick a fresh batch of cecilias just for xiao while enlisting the help of your favorite bard

these soft moments on the mountain are usually when you’ll sweetly tuck in a flower or two in his hair while laughing

he’ll blush fiercely while looking away but will tuck the cecilias in securely as you’re unable to do so due to the position you’re in on his lap

all in all - this was not meant to come out as a date idea but we’re going w it

this is so cute xiao pls let me put flowers in your hair sweet boy <3

childe

god, loml, my favorite war criminal after eren yeager

there’s never a dull moment w this man - if you wanted peace and quiet, why the hell are you dating him bestie???

is the type of person to yell out “Y/N, i can’t believe i ran into you here!” if he sees you somewhere even tho you explicitly told him you were going to be here in the morning (ik you have a good memory ajax don’t lie to me 😐)

i don’t see him as being obnoxious w pda unlike someone else kaeya but he would definitely participate (think: handholding, cheek kisses, an arm around your shoulders)

loves it when he comes home and sees you in an apron cooking

domesticity just makes his heart melt so you can be sure that your face will be peppered w a lot of kisses afterwards <3

absolutely ADORES it when you trace his scars absentmindedly when you’re lying down or even when you’re having dinner in public

he’s been far from his family for so long that small acts of mindless affection like this really make his heart happy

you have him drunk on your love luv haha see what i did there

he will let you put makeup on him. no i do not take criticism ⛄️

he already has on lowkey thick eyeliner,,, don’t be shy put some more bestie

he will shamelessly go out in public w whatever you made him wear - doesn’t really give a shit even tho he has a reputation to maintain

speaking of reputation,,, yk his mask? yeah that one - the red hair accessory that he has on his head

well on the mask, he attached a little charm the both of you got together on your first date during lantern rite

it’s this adorable fox that we all shamelessly kill for meat and he placed it so it anchored to the side of his mask so when he fights it isn’t a nuisance or anything (does that make sense??? i hope it does)

his subordinates notice and while they’re stoic around childe, behind closed doors they do whisper abt the mysterious person who’s captured his heart

not so mysterious anymore when they literally see him cling onto you during his daily patrol around the harbor 💀

it’s ok tho he’s lucky he’s cute

bestie,,, pls give him a neck massage

i just KNOW he’s tense there idk something abt the way he carries himself just screams “my neck hurts so bad someone pls help me i would ask but my pride literally will not let me”

so give him a neck massage :) don’t worry tho he’ll definitely return the favor and then some

LOVES TICKLE FIGHTS

he’s obsessed w them,,, it’s just the faces you make??? he can’t get enough

he loves seeing the pure joy and the brief fear (he’s kind of a sadist) in your eyes before he attacks you w those damned hands

it reminds him a lot of simpler times w his siblings and he’s happy he brings you joy and makes you forget your worries - at least for a little while

all in all, he’s a good boy and no i will not tolerate childe slander 🔪 kaeya slander tho 😏

beidou

you pulled beidou??? wow everyone’s jealous (pulled as in literally from the banner and in this context but no i do not have beidou and no i definitely do not want to talk abt it)

god made beidou and zhongli just so all of us could have a sexuality crisis

anyways, being w her is hard i will not lie

not bc she isn’t a capable lover - no, quite the contrary

she’s an amazing partner but the problem here lies in the fact that she’s almost never on land

it’s hard working a long distance relationship but y’all love each other so it works out :,)

when she is physically present however, expect to never be bored

she’ll quietly fix the wrinkles on your shirt or fiddle with your fingers in her hands while she recounts her adventures out on sea

she sometimes gets worried she bores you, however the way your eyes light up every time she tells a tale always reassures her otherwise

definitely the type to let you use her claymore if you want to learn

she’ll provide useful tips as she tucks her hands into your sides gently, positioning you correctly so you don’t hurt yourself

miss girl is an AMAZING cook

i just know she cooks the best meals - i mean she’s friends w xiangling after all

whenever she comes home from a voyage she’ll always insist on making something for you even if she’s abt to pass out

pls tuck her into bed and promise her that she can make you something in the morning <3 the poor woman needs rest

brings you back trinkets but they’re actually very practical

she knows you won’t have much use for a simple charm (not that there’s anything wrong w that) but she believes you’ll like something practical more so she might get you a new engraved knife from the most recent place she’s been to

definitely the type to surprise you when she docks

i can imagine her anchoring her ship out a little ways from liyue harbor and rowing to the dock in order to make sure you aren’t alerted of her presence (i’m sorry the mental picture this made in my mind is SENDING ME INTO ORBIT but she means well i love you)

will take you to remote spots she’s found in her travels through liyue

for example - the little heart shaped island and the island quest (?) that you had to use kaeya the bridge maker for in order to get to im sorry i’ll stop w the kaeya slander

she’ll get you seashell bracelets or necklaces idk why but she gives me those vIBES

they’re super nice ones too, only the highest quality for you

yes she’s a bruh girl but i also see her as someone who would enjoy intimate moments like watching the sunset or something

“yo wanna catch the sunset, i heard it looks sick from the jade chamber” said before ahem it yk fell from the sky

kasdjksfashfjsahf yes ofc i would love to catch the sunset w you pls come home luv

anyways, she is a woman i would give the world for

zhongli

ok gimme a sec i need to get my gentleman mode on

this man,,, THIS MAN

everything w him is so soft like your entire eXISTENCE w him could go in a museum it’s that beautiful

in the morning when he visits you, he always brings you a cup of your favorite tea and a bouquet of glaze lilies he got from madame ping

holds the door for you, pushes the chair out for you, uses a napkin and brushes sauce off your lips when you’re eating - you name something sweet, he’s done it

secretly loves it when you fuss over him

he doesn’t like to fight but say he encountered a group of hillichurls he couldn’t avoid and promptly defeated them but ended up tearing a part of his tux(?) (is it a tux? i could not tell you)

not that big of a deal, i mean it’s a scratch, he’s a 6,000 year old god, he’s dealt w much worse

but seeing the worried crease in your brows as you usher him to sit at the table while quickly grabbing antiseptic to clean his wound

“it’s just a scratch, my dear. do not worry i’ve dealt with much worse.”

you quietly protest abt how “yes zhongli, i understand you’re an archon and have gotten worse injuries but i’m worried about infection just please let me take care of you ok? <3″

when you say that he feels weird emotions,,, wdym take care of him?

he’s always taken care of himself or been expected to take care of others as the former ruling deity of liyue so having someone else genuinely worry abt his wellbeing creates a warm feeling in his chest

he strikes me as the type to knit you something??? idk maybe it’s the grandpa vibes but i headcanon that he would knit you a scarf for the colder weather, it’s cute

in the privacy of your home, he really likes picking you up

he loves it when you wrap your legs around his middle while he gets up to go do the dishes or smthg

domesticity go brrrr

if you’re into making flower crowns, he would totally have you on his lap and wordlessly hand you a glaze lily whenever you expectantly hold your hand out while weaving the flowers together

he expects you to make the crown for yourself but when you place the crown on his head and it fits perfectly while simultaneously tucking a glaze lily behind your ear, he looks at you dumbstruck

his mouth parts open in awe and it’s quite literally the cutest thing

you’ve broken him

thinks it’s the sweetest thing - will keep it on his head for the whole day

he’ll even put it in water before he sleeps so it won’t wilt and he can wear it the next day <3

scenic picnics!! scenic picnics!!

the type to take you to the nicest spots in liyue to chat abt the history of the land w you over a cup of tea and your favorite food (whatever you like, he doesn’t mind)

recounts the people he’s met in his long life before finishing off by saying you’re by far the best person he’s met

zhongli strangles lovingly come home soon

thanks for reading! if you have any requests don’t hesitate to send them in <3

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amerrierworld · 3 years

Text

Don’t Hide Us

for the request: idk if you write this, but would u do Lou x Debbie x reader smut? if not just Lou works. Maybe at the end the team finds out they're together and they all have big reactions xoxo

Summary: An evening of strip poker ends with a surprise.. or rather six surprises.

Characters: Lou x Debbie x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,467

Warnings: smut with both our ladies but more dom!lou, and some fluff at the end :D

Being with two other people was not easy, especially when said people were heavily involved with frequent criminal activities. Despite being quite mature and organized, they were also absolute crackheads.

You don’t know how it happened, but you had somehow been pulled into a game of strip poker- and halfway through you realized they most likely had rigged the whole thing, because you were nearly naked in your chair in just your undergarments, and Lou and Debbie wore shit-eating grins.

“It’s really not fair if you two always gang up on me, you know,” you huffed as your second sock came off.

“What are you talking about, we’re playing absolutely fair,” Lou replied. Her tie had come off and was now wrapped around her head, messing up her bangs. She was only wearing her silky waistcoat and boxer briefs, but seemed the most relaxed. Debbie, like you, was in her bra, but was still wearing her high-waisted pants.

“Bullshit, Miller,” you scoffed, taking a sip from your drink. “Now hurry up, I'm getting chilly over here.”

Lou’s bar club was closed tonight, and you three were sitting close to the pool table, a languid playlist thumping through the large speakers. Dimmed lights, surrounded by the smell of vodka and cigarette smoke. You felt a deep heat stir inside you as Debbie wormed her way out of her pants after losing another round.

Lou took her time looking her over as well until she flicked at the dangling tie from her head,

“We’re still playing, Lou. Get back to it.”

You giggled at the sight of them, which made them look over at you simultaneously, and you felt your stomach drop. Unsurprisingly, you lost the next game.

“I’ll turn the heat up for you baby,” Lou grinned as you moved to take off your bra. You blushed, shimmying in your seat as the cool air made goosebumps rise along your body.

Debbie reached over to run a hand over your shivering thigh. The table you sat at was a small, round wooden table, and a single lamp hung above all three of you, swinging precariously.

“Oi, no touching yet, Debs,” Lou scolded, bumping the brunette in the arm. “We’re still playing, right?”

Debbie pouted dramatically, but you played on. Your nipples were practically aching from the cold air warring with your internal heat, making you squirm against your hard wooden chair.

Then suddenly and unexpectedly, Lou lost a round. Her fingers danced along the buttons of the waistcoat teasingly, eyeing both you and Debbie with a grin.

“Maybe we should call it after this,” you suggested, because Lou’s abdomen was slowly coming to light and your mouth was watering.

“Agreed,” Debbie sighed. Lou had kept her chains and jewelry on, and you hated the way they accentuated her neck and wrists and fingers, hated how you were distracted by them.

A rush of cold air gave you a rush of adrenaline as your heart rate picked up, and you practically flew across the table to grab Lou and kiss her hard before she even got the article of clothing off.

Her chair was tipping back and would have fallen had Debbie not reached over and steadied it. Lou’s hands were warm and large and ran over your back as you sat on the table in front of her, your legs spreading and revealing the obvious wetness gathering between your thighs through your underwear.

“We’re not finished the game yet, baby,” she said. You immediately yanked your underwear down and tossed it with the rest of your abandoned clothes.

“There, I lose,” you pushed up and then you were straddling her in her chair, rubbing against her warm thighs. Her hands came up on your back, large and firm, as you kept kissing her.

“I think she’s extra feisty tonight, Deb,” Lou said huskily. You had grabbed one of her longer chains in between your teeth and made direct eye contact with her as you clasped the gold jewelry in your mouth.

“I don’t blame her,” the brunette’s voice was low, quiet, and she moved to toss the rest of the cards and chips off the table before putting herself where you had been sitting moments ago. Her feet rested on the edge of the chair, by your thighs, so you were effectively trapped by the two women.

You were enjoying the lavish attention you were getting from them both, until Debbie yanked your hair back and sucked hard on your neck. You lost your grip on Lou’s neck and fell back against Debbie, instead wrapping your hands around her upper thighs, nails digging into her skin.

Then Lou’s lips were wrapping around one of your nipples and you squealed as a warm tongue slid across the hard nub.

Lou was restless, you could tell, because she didn’t hesitate to bring a hand to you cunt and rub a thumb over your clit as Debbie continued her assault on your neck.

Lou’s hands were holding your own thighs down so you could barely move between the two of them, and continued to rub you furiously. Your abdomen muscles kept spasming as she passed over your sensitive clit, tighter and tighter until you shook with a whining, shaking orgasm.

You collapsed against Debbie, who momentarily lost her balance, and then suddenly was lying flat on the table, you on top of her.

“Oh, perfect,” you heard Lou whisper, before your legs were yanked apart to spread and hook over Debbie’s thighs underneath you. You felt a brush of hair against your inner thighs and then Debbie gasped loudly underneath you, her mouth right by your ear and her grip on you unforgiving.

Lou was eating Debbie out on the table as you lay limply on top of her, feeling her tremble and shake under you. Her arm wrapped tightly around your middle to have something to hold onto. You could hardly move. You tried squirming and doing something because her gasps and whimpers and the sounds of Lou’s mouth on her cunt made you desperate again.

You could only watch the lamp hanging above you, swaying hypnotically as you felt Debbie’s legs rise and buck. Her lips sucked on your neck again, teeth nibbling until you groaned out loud.

You sat up, watching Lou fuck Debbie with her tongue inside her. Then you reached down with your own hand and lightly touched Debbie’s swollen clit, and she nearly threw you off of her. Lou grinned at you with her eyes; her own hands were occupied in holding Debbie steady, so you sat about rubbing her clit with deft fingers until you heard that familiar cry, and she came on Lou’s tongue.

Lou sat back, spreading her legs and grinning at the sight of both of her girls laying exhausted on the table. You caught her eye and she licked her lips, pupils blown.

Your legs were shaky as you attempted to get off the table, helping Debbie up in a sitting position, her chest heaving, sweat shining in the poorly lit space. Lou rubbed her legs, almost apologetically for making her thrash and whine so much. They kissed languidly, and Debbie reached down to cup her between her legs, but she pulled her hand away and sucked two of her fingers in her mouth before saying,

“No. Later,” she said, conclusively. She looked over at you and pulled you closer, and your hands subconsciously came up to play with her necklaces again.

“This was my idea after all,” Lou said, “and you two look- well, thoroughly fucked. If I may say so myself.”

You walked back slowly- because your legs felt stiff. You were still adjusting your outfit, feeling like everyone around you could see the dark bruising forming on your neck. And that everyone could see Lou and Debbie’s messed up hair- or the fact that all your clothes were wrinkled and messy.

The evening sun was hiding behind the skyline and the sky was a lot darker by the time the three of you had reached Lou’s place, only you were stopped in your tracks by someone waiting on the front steps.

“Constance?” Lou asked, baffled, her hand slipping out of yours. The young woman was standing at Lou’s door, undeterred and munching on a Subway sandwich.

“Oh, hey! Where you been? I’ve been calling like, non-stop,” she said, “I was gonna return the key, remember?”

She jangled a set of keys that you recognized- everyone from the team had received a copy of them during their heist, and Lou groaned,

“Shit- I completely forgot. I hope you haven’t been waiting too long.”

“Nah, Tammy drove me.”

“Tammy? What- where-”

A honk from the street made you look over and see Tammy in the driver’s seat of a car waiting by the curb. She was grinning and waved her hand at the group of you standing on the sidewalk. Next to her was Amita.

“Did you bring everyone or something?” Lou said, exasperated.

“Uh, of course not! Just them- and Nineball. She’s in the backseat.”

“Why?” Debbie nearly shouted, holding your hand even tighter.

Constance jangled the keys again, and this time you noticed there were far more than just one person’s set of keys- they must’ve gotten together to carpool the keys to Lou’s after Constance had planned to drop them off. And now they all saw the three of you walking home- clothes disheveled and covered in lipstick prints.

You groaned, knowing your state, wondering how it looked, wondering if they’d found out yet. This wasn’t really how you had planned to tell the team. You weren’t sure if any of you three had been planning to tell anyone at all.

“You’re a thief, Connie, couldn’t you have just broken in?” Debbie added, bringing you back to the conversation, “would’ve saved everyone some time.”

“Now where’s the fun in that?” Constance grinned as Lou brought everyone inside.

You nearly sprinted up the stairs, wanting to get out of sight as soon as possible, but Lou had grabbed your hand before could even take one step.

“Not so fast,” she whispered hoarsely, “you’re gonna suffer just as much as us. No abandoning post.”

You pouted at her but relented, welcoming the other four women who started chatting.

“I’m terribly sorry if it's a bad time!” Tammy said, “but it’s been so long since all of us have been together, you know? And I was only in town for a little while, so I thought I’d reach out to Connie and-”

“It’s fine,” Debbie interrupted her, sincerely, but slightly frustrated, “it’s good to see you all. Although we don’t have everyone in, only-”

As if on cue, the door that had been left open a crack swung open all the way, revealing Rose and Daphne, arm in arm.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Lou sighed, and you grinned, sliding up to her and pulling on her hand with yours,

“Picked the wrong night for poker, huh?”

“Oh my goodness, girls!” Daphne squealed, pushing her thick sunglasses on top of her head, glossy lips spreading wide. “We were just passing through- had no idea everyone was getting together!”

“Neither did we,” Debbie replied, receiving their hugs and hello’s.

“So what were you three up to before you got back?” Amita asked, oh so innocently. You nearly choked on a can of Coke.

“We were... out,” Debbie said bluntly. You could see in her eyes; she was blanking entirely on how to recover from this.

“I was teaching them how to play poker at the club,” Lou added, absentmindedly picking at her nails.

“But... you only ever take people out for poker on a date, Lou,” Tammy piped up, confused. Of course Tammy would fucking know that.

There was a dreaded silence, and you realized you were absolutely fucked when the first voice cried out,

“No! No way!” Okay, so Constance had definitely figured it out. You blushed furiously, only confirming her suspicions as she scanned you and your girlfriends.

“What?” Debbie snapped.

“You guys are fucking, aren't you?” Nineball asked, nonchalantly, as if that wasn’t one of the biggest revelations of the century.

You expected screams- a major uproar, glasses to be thrown in surprise, but instead, there was a moment of stunned silence before there was a collective “Oooohhhh...” of realization. Then they all began talking over each other

“You know what, that makes a lot of sense-”

“Yeah I was beginning to wonder if you really just didn’t care about fashion with how your outfit looked- or if you just hadn’t seen a mirror...”

“Oh my god, it’s bad enough Debbie mothers all of us already. Now there’s three of you together?”

“I kept asking Y/N if she was seeing anyone and wanted a blind date or something, but she was so vague-”

“So how is the wedding going to work?”

“Isn’t that, like, a lot of limbs to deal with?”

“For some reason I’m surprised but also not at all.”

“Okay, okay, okay!” Lou shouted, finally shutting your friends up. “Yes, fine, the three of us are seeing each other. But we’re not just fucking, alright?”

“It’s an actual relationship, and if any of you have a problem with that, you can get the hell out.”

“Holiday shopping must be so expensive,” Rose murmured over to you as your girlfriends kept defending your situation, and you couldn’t help but giggle. And then you began laughing, loudly. So absurd was the situation that you couldn’t stop laughing.

“Is something funny?” Debbie asked, crossing her arms, annoyed. You giggled and nodded,

“Yes, all of this is funny.”

You got up and crossed over to Lou and Debbie, holding their hands and looking over your group of friends; none of them showing any sort of malice, only content amusement and smiles.

“I find it funny that you’re both getting so worked up about it when no one here is having an issue with our relationship. Nothing’s gonna change from how it was before, right guys?”

A few nodded in response and you smiled, absent-mindedly straightening Lou’s askew tie.

“So there’s really no problems then, hm? Why don’t we just... crack open some beers and keep the party going?”

Constance hollered in agreement, and just like that, the atmosphere was back to normal, drinks were being opened, and although your throuple situation was still a topic of conversation, it wasn’t nearly as malicious as you thought it would be.

“You know, I always had an inkling that something was going on, but I couldn’t put my finger on it,” Daphne said, gleefully. You rolled your eyes and gave her a glass of wine.

“Got room for one more?” Nineball asked. Lou chucked an empty soda can at her head.

#lou #lou miller #lou miller x reader #lou miller x you #debbie #debbie ocean #debbie ocean x you #debbie x lou #ocean's eight #oceans 8 #oceans8 #ocean's 8 #oceans 8 fanfic #lou x debbie x you #wlw #lgbt #merry writes

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galaxysupreme17 · 3 years

Text

Things I will Write

Tv Shows: Grey’s Anatomy, Law and Order SVU, Glee, Criminal Minds, Gilmore Girls, American Horror Story, Ratched, Studio 60 on the sunset strip, Stranger Things, Super Girl, Private Practice, Station 19, Agents Of Shield, Younger, Bunheads, Good Witch, The people v. OJ Simpson, Supernatural, Fuller House, Full House, Wandavision, Steven Universe, Mrs. America, Scream Queens, Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist, Friends, SMASH, The Addams Family.

Movies: The Prom, Mamma Mia, The Conjuring 1, 2, and 3, The Good Witch Movies, The Avengers, Suicide Squad, Blue Jay, Mamma Mia Here We Go Again, Ocean’s 8, The Devil Wears Prada, Twister, The Addams Family, Little Women, Harley Quinn Birds of Pray, Harry Potter, Heathers, Frozen 1&2, Casper, Beetlejuice, Star Wars, Descendants, Marry Poppins, The Hunger Games, Twilight.

Generally I will write anything as long as you ask! I write character x reader or character x daughter reader. I can write preference and oneshots. I will also write character x character stories!

I can try to write smut stories but I don’t know how well I can write those. I prefer to write fluff stories as they make me most comfortable. Like my first story I can write stuff with anxiety/depression/suicide. I will usually write those if I am feeling really down or am really anxious.

If I write those out of the blue it will probably involve Olivia Benson, Cordelia Goode, Sarah Paulson, Mariska Hargitay, Ellen Pompeo, Jen Aniston, Kate Walsh, Cate Blanchett, Sandra Bullock, Meredith Grey, Lexie Grey, Addison Montgomery, or Natasha Romanoff as they are my comfort people/characters.

Like I said if yall have any request just send them in!

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castiel-barnes · 3 years

Text

Damerons Music.

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Fem! Reader. AFAB (reader is married to Poe.)

Summary: Poe has quite good music taste and when flying on mission and fighting the First Order it can be quite amusing, especially as you’re talented and cocky as Poe.

Warnings: Angst. Fluff. Fun. Music references.

Wordcount: 1.4k

Tags: @phoenixhalliwell

Leia loved the two of you and trusted the two of you immensely. She had been a mentor to the two of you. But there were some days when she really wondered what was going in your heads. She had officiated your small wedding as part of the celebration, after the Star Killer base explosion. At the evacuation of D’Qar, the two of you ran all the way to the bridge to find Leia. Skidding to a stop in front of Leia you and your husband at this time shared a single brain cell.

“Permission to jump in an X-Wing?” You said in unison with Poe,

“Permission granted.” Leia responded smiling at your synchronicity with Poe as you both turned and ran. The two of you ran full speed with BB8 in tow, towards the hanger and your X-Wings.

“Do you want music today?” Poe asked kissing the top of your head,

“Yeah, surprise me today. Be safe flyboy.” You responded as you put your helmet on and smiled at him.

“I think I know what i’m gonna put on. You be safe too sweetheart.” Poe stated with his signature smile. The two of you started up the engines on your X-Wings and flew out the hanger, as soon as the First order fleet arrived out of hyperspace. The two of you flew towards the fleet and stopped in a two fighter formation just in front of them. Poe patched the two of you into First Order comms and decided to have fun.

“Attention! This is Commander Poe Dameron.” Poe started,

“And Lieutenant Y/N Dameron.” You chimed in. Wondering if Leia did actually have a message for Hux.

“Of the Republic fleet, we have urgent communique for General Hugs.” Poe continued as he looked over at you briefly,

“This is General Hux of the First Order. The Republic is no more. Your fleet are Rebel scum and war criminals. Tell your precious Princess there will be no terms, there will be no surrender...” Hux stated looking out the window towards the two of you.

“Hi, we’re holding for General Hugs.” Poe stated. You snickered knowing exactly what he was doing,

“This is Hux. You and your friends are doomed. We will wipe your filth from the galaxy.” Hux responded already sounding annoyed.

“Okay. I’ll hold.” Poe said humming to himself,

“Hey Poe, do you think we have time to order some food?” You asked smiling. You were both still on comms with the First Order so they could still hear you.

“Yeah, I think we’ll have some time. Could really go for some blue milk pancakes.” Poe replied looking at you again, he knew that you knew what he was doing.

“Hello?” Hux said slightly confused,

“Hello? Yup, I’m still here.” Poe replied.

“Can they hear me?” Hux asked one of the officers who had patched them through, and the officer nodded. “He can?” Hux continued,

“Hugs? With a H? Skinny guy. Kinda pasty.” Poe said somewhat describing Hux,

“Oh don’t forget the ginger hair and the anger management issues.” You added on, getting your blasters ready.

“I can hear you. Can you hear me?” Hux stated very clearly annoyed by this point which was hyping you and Poe up even more for getting under his skin,

“Look we can’t hold forever, we have something important tonight. If you reach him, tell him Leia has an urgent message for him.” Poe stated looking over at you and nodded. He was giving you the final shot to get under his skin.

“I believe that they’re tooling with you sir.” Captain Peavey informed Hux who instantly glared at Peavey,

“About his mother.” You said, hearing Poe chuckle and then hearing music start playing that was heard on the Finalizer. I fought the Law by the band Clash started playing, the perfect song to play whilst pulling difficult manoeuvres around in space fighting the first order.

“Good choice of song today honey.” You complemented Poe on his song choice,

“Thank you darling, I knew you’d appreciate some good music. And nice blow to Hux about his mother.” Poe responded and you knew he was smiling. The two of you flew in formation pass the bridge of the dreadnought that was accompanied by the Hux’s Star destroyer.

“Damerons, I suggest that you keep the flirting to the minimum because on behalf of every senior officer on bridge right now. I don’t think we want to hear you flirting. Or singing.” Leia stated coming over the comms startling you both for a second, because you forgot she could hear you.

“Yes Ma’am.” You both said in unison. Pulling around the front of the dreadnought, both of your had gone for the surface cannons but that was until the First Order cavalry arrived. BB8 let out a frantic beep which notified Poe of their arrival.

“Y/N!! We’ve got a lot of company coming our way.” Poe almost shouted over comms,

“I see them baby, beebs get another song on. And make it a good one.” You replied and also talked to BB8. Somewhere in the playlist, BB8 found the best song that went along with this type of situation. Danger Zone by Kenny Loggings. You and Poe chuckled knowing the origins of the song, but this song got you hyped.

Everyone knew that you and Poe had good music taste. They loved how in sync the two of you were, especially when the two of you were flying. It was like watching the Festival of Ancestors on Pasaana, the synchronicity of everyone celebrating together.

*****************************

You worried about Poe a lot. He had a lot of weight on his shoulders, and sometimes it showed especially when the two of you were alone. For a long time he was Leia's successor, Commander of his own squadron and Leia's most trusted pilot.

When Leia passed, Poe became General and asked Finn to co-general with him. The weight added up as the responsibility of General was passes down to him. At the battle of Exegol, the fight was hard for a while it looked like the battle was a loss. You heard Poe scream as he saw Snaps X-Wing burn up and crash. Thankfully Lando and Chewie turned up in the Falcon, with what looked like the entrie galaxy backing you up. You both smiled, a tear coming yo your eye. The call was answered.

"Hey baby, why don't we get this party started?" You asked Poe as you flew past him,

"Honey, I was thinking the same thing. R2 put some good music on." Poe replied also talking to R2. BB8 wasn't the only droid with some good music taste, R2 put on a classic up beat song. Blitzkrieg Bop by the Ramones 1976. Smiling briefly you got back to flying fast and pulling some hard G forces.

*****************************

It'd been months since the war ended. You had helped Poe and Finn clean up the mess that had been left behind. The two of you had been sleeping better than you had during the war, but you both had trouble some nights. Poe more than you some nights.

You felt Poe thrashing around and mumbling.

"No... Snap... nooo.!" He mumbled eyebrows pinched,

"Baby? Hey Poe wake up honey. It's alright." You stated gently rubbing his arm to wake him up. He sat up shaking and breathing heavily. You looked at him, his eyes looked distant and watery.

"Poe?" You asked quietly, placing a hand on his shoulder hesitantly,

"I- I'm sorry b-baby. I'm sorry." Poe responded looking at you sheepishly. He still wasn't there in the room mentally, from what you could tell he was in his cockpit on Exegol watching his best friend die over again.

"Don't be sorry baby. Don't be sorry. You're here on Yavin. We're not fighting that war anymore." You replied stroking his hair back.

"Beebs, put on Dream a little dream of me by Doris Day. Come here baby." You continued pulling Poe of your shared bed gently. You held him gently and swayed slowly. Poe laid his head gently on your shoulder, and every now and then you heard him sniffle. Everytime he sniffled you placed a gentle kiss to his temple.

"I love you baby. Thank you for being with me through everything." Poe said quietly,

"I love you too, you know I'd be here for you always." You replied. The song ended and you pulled him back onto the bed, letting him use you as a pillow. He was shaking a little still, but after letting you look after him Poe fell back to sleep easily.

Everyone knew that the two of you had a dynamic like no one else, and everyone enjoyed the music you played when flying. But behind closed doors, you were both calm and the music you played was calm and soothing.

The Damerons are an energetic couple, but you were both calm and relaxed when it was just the two of you.

#star wars #writing #poe dameron #poe dameron x reader

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auror-lovie · 4 years

Text

I Loved You, Mr. Scamander; Chapter 2

━━━•✦.✧. Author’s Note.✧.✦•━

Chapter 2 is O U T!

GOSH THE AMOUNT OF RESEARCH I DID JUST TO MAKE THIS CHAPTER.

Besides the point, I had a lot of fun doing the research. (Where was this version of me in high school-)

I hope you guys enjoy it! This chapter is a bit longer than I anticipated. It was a mix of research, personal experiences, and listening to the same song for hours-

You can find the playlist and the taglist form link in my bio! (Or you can just comment, send an ask, or PM- whichever feels comfortable)

━━━━━•✦.✧. Summary .✧.✦•━

After Hogwarts, (Y/N) and Victoria become the MOM’s Investigation Department’s secret weapon. While celebrating the completion of a recent case, she meets someone new. Who knew that this someone is related to her first love?

━━━━━•✦.✧. Add-Ons .✧.✦•━

A little back story of what happened during their last year at Hogwarts

Theseus~! ( Gosh, I hope I didn’t write him too out of character. Then again, in this chapter, he’s fresh out of WWI )

Victoria and (Y/N)’s friendship is solely based on the friendship I have with my fellow RavenPuff best friend. ( If she ever finds this fic, though I doubt it, I love you~! )

Fluff! (Hopefully)

Theseus and Reader being oblivious to these coincidences.

CLICHE ROMANCE STUFF. I’M A HOPELESS ROMANTIC, OKAY???

Hilarity ensues

Blood, but it’s a short scene

Slight angst at the end

━━━━━━•✦.✧.☾.✧.✦•━━━━━

Before Newt left, he promised to owl them. He was set on working for the Ministry to work with magical creatures in some way. Though his letters always came at odd hours- stupid time zones.

The day after Newt's expulsion, (Y/N) and Victoria had cut ties with Leta. They couldn’t trust her after what had happened. Despite all that, (Y/N) wished Leta the best in life.

For once the roles reversed, Victoria wanted to hex the hell out of Leta, but (Y/N) talked her out of it. Told her that it wasn’t worth it. Instead of spending all that energy on hating someone, it was better to wish them the best and let them go.

Sixth year had come to an end. On the day everyone was set to go back home for the summer holiday, Headmaster Dippet had summoned Victoria to his office.

“Headmaster Dippet,” She said as she stepped into his office. “What can I do for you?”

“You can take this, Miss Howard.” He replied, his hand gesturing to a small, yet elegant metal box that sat near her side of the desk.

Puzzled, Victoria walked closer. She hesitantly grabbed the box and opened it. On the small cushion, laid a navy blue pin, with the words HEAD GIRL in bronze.

“T-This is an honor, sir.” She stumbled, picking it up. It was funny how valuable a small badge would be. How much weight and responsibility it held while being almost as light as a feather.

“I want you to wear it on the first day back.” He gave a small smile.

“I understand, Professor. I can’t thank you enough-“

“Hush child. Come next year, you’ll curse me out for giving you the responsibilities.”

In their final year at Hogwarts, they made it their best year yet. They went to all the Quidditch games and Hogsmeade trips. They studied their hardest and gave it their all. When they graduated, they both got “Exceeds Expectations” and “Outstanding” in all the subjects needed to apply for the Auror Training Program. These subjects were Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Herbology, and Charms.

~*~*~

Auror training required strenuous work to complete, but nothing they couldn’t handle. It was mandatory to undergo a rigorous series of character and aptitude tests. These tests showcased how well they reacted under pressure. They trained extensively in advanced magical combat, other elements of practical defense, and methods of criminal investigation.

Other training courses were Concealment and Disguise, Stealth and Tracking, Battle Instinct, Best-Laid Plans, Duelling in the Dark, Field Training, History of the Dark Arts, Method in the Mad-Eye, Resilience Training, and The Auror Advantage; while poisons and antidotes were also essential studies. Their training lasted for three years and was difficult work.

(Y/N) excelled in courses like Battle Instinct and Dueling in the Dark. Victoria showed her prowess in courses like Stealth and Tracking and Best-Laid Plans. Their personalities complimented each other. Apart, they had their successes, but together? They were a force not to be reckoned with. You’ve heard of power couples, but they were a powerful dynamic duo.

The Ministry of Magic in the Investigation Department is where they started. They were the department’s secret weapon. The only people who knew of them were those also in the Investigation Department. If they left the department due to any reason, they would be obliviated of their memory of (Y/N) and Victoria.

•✦.✧.🔎.✧.✦•

Another report was finalized and another dark wizard in Azkaban. In celebration, Victoria had convinced (Y/N) to go out to a pub with her. Coincidentally, the muggle world was celebrating a victory of their own.

At the pub, (Y/N) and Victoria was sitting at the bar, both on their second glass of Sidecar cocktail. Their work clothes were more wrinkled than usual as they relaxed on the stools.

The place was hot (despite it being winter), loud, and reeked of perfume and alcohol. People were celebrating the victory of “The War to End All Wars”. Men in uniforms were all around. Some were at home with loved ones. Others were kissing random strangers at the pub or hanging around with their mates. Then there were a couple of groups raising a glass to their fallen comrades.

“I’m headed to the restroom. You coming?” Victoria asked after finishing her glass.

(Y/N) swished her drink in her glass. “I’m good. I’ll wait here for you.”

Victoria nodded, “Alright, dear. Remember no boys, and if one won’t leave you alone- hex him or punch him.”

(Y/N) gave her a look.

Victoria laughed. “Be alert.” She said before leaving.

She nodded, “I will, Vi. I always am.” (Y/N) let out a sigh as she watched Victoria walk towards the restroom.

Her train of thought started with work but soon drifted to Newt. Over the years, she and Newt continued to stay in touch. Since she graduated, Newt had served on the Eastern Front- not in the war, no. He was there to wrangle some Ukrainian Ironbellys. That year, Augustus Worme commissioned him to write a book about magical creatures.

“Of course he took the job. It’s the perfect job for him…” She mumbled before taking another sip.

If there was anything (Y/N) wanted to do right now, it would be to go home. Being at a pub wasn’t her thing- neither was it Victoria’s, but she let it slide this time. ‘To whatever God or higher celestial being up there, please keep Newt safe.’ She thought, staring at the remaining liquid.

“Hey, what’s a pretty little lady like you doing in a place like this all by herself?” A male voice cooed as he sat on the barstool to her left.

Snapping out of her thoughts, (Y/N) turned to face a man in uniform. He had short blonde hair (but if it were any longer, it would break regulation) and light brown eyes. Attractive? Yes. Her type? Definitely not.

“I’m not here by myself,” (Y/N) eyed the single chevron patch sewn on the upper half of his uniform’s sleeve. “-Private.” She said before meeting his gaze. “I’m here with a friend.”

“Private Keaton Williams.” He said as he took one of her hands in his, bringing it up to kiss her knuckles.

‘Merlin’s beard. Where’s Victoria?’ She thought as she saw the satisfaction on his face. (Y/N) slowly retracted her hand, holding it close to her chest.

“Thank you, Private- er, Williams. But I should be looking for my friend.” She said, getting ready to stand.

He held onto her wrist, preventing her from leaving. “Come on. We both know it’s a lie. You’re not really here with anyone.” Keaton teased.

She tried to think of a way to turn him down. She couldn’t hex him- he was a muggle. There were rules about using magic in the presence of muggles! And she couldn’t punch him. How could she punch a man who had fought for the country she called home?

“She’s with me.” said another male’s voice. This time, it came from behind her.

Keaton looked past (Y/N) to see another man in uniform. “Oh wow. I’m another bloke in a uniform. What makes you so special?” He mocked.

“I don’t condone men flaunting their uniform as a way to catch a woman’s heart.” The one behind her replied. “I’ve dealt with idiots like him. Play along.” He whispered in her ear. (Y/N) nodded, before taking back her wrist.

“I know how to get what I want 's all,” Keaton boasted, then turned his attention back to (Y/N). “Let’s go, love. Let this soldier show you a good time.”

(Y/N) turned to get a look at her savior. Oh great. Yet she stared for a second longer- he looked so familiar.

Shaking her head from her thoughts, she leaned into his chest. “I’m sorry, Private Williams. You had no chance from the start. This soldier had already caught my attention.”

The man looked shocked for a split second before playing along with her little skit. “Ah yes. I’m glad I was able to return home to the love of my life all in one piece.” He said before wrapping an arm around (Y/N)’s shoulder.

She blushed. ‘Love of his life? No- stop it. It’s a ruse.’

Keaton looked at the other, eyeing his rank. “What’s a Sergeant got that I don’t?”

The man shifted, a crimson ribbon pinned to the pocket flap of his left breast pocket revealing itself. “I have the right mind to back off when a woman says no.”

Keaton looked again, seeing the ribbon, and gasped. The Victoria Cross Award. “Y-You’re him. T-That Theseus guy… The War Hero.”

Theseus. The name of her saviour was revealed!

Theseus rolled his eyes. “It’s Sergeant to you. Now scram before I report you to your commanding officer.”

“Y-Yes Sergeant,” Keaton said before walking away from the pair.

(Y/N) let out a sigh of relief as she relaxed her shoulders. “Thank you… Theseus, was it?”

Theseus hummed in agreement, removing his arm from her shoulder. “It’s no problem…” He trailed off, running his hand through his hair.

She turned in her chair to face him. His hair now slightly messed up due to his recent action. His uniform suited him- good and squared away. But his face. It was so damn familiar. It was as if she’d seen those blue eyes somewhere before.

“Uh… Like what you see?” Theseus joked.

(Y/N) blushed. “I-I didn’t mean to stare…” A small pause before sticking her hand out, “I’m (Y/N).”

Theseus gently took her hand, bringing it to his lips, and placed a gentle kiss on her knuckles. “Theseus. Charmed to meet you.”

‘Did… Did he just…?’ (Y/N) giggled, taking her hand back and interlocking her fingers together. “So what’s a wizard like you serving in the military?”

He sighed, sitting on the seat that was once Victoria’s, “The military part was a cover-up to get me on the front lines. Even if the muggles were at war, that didn’t mean dark wizards would stop their heinous crimes. I was working double time. A field agent for the Ministry and a Sergeant for the British Armed Forces.”

(Y/N) nodded. “Thank you for your service… For our world and theirs.” She smiled at him.

The silence was deafening between them, but it wasn’t awkward in any way. It was more comforting.

(Y/N) brought herself to look at his eyes again, her pupils dilating. His eyes made her heart swell with love- the type of love she reserved only for Newt. Though, she couldn’t help but spill a little bit of that to Theseus. Love at first sight?

Theseus returned the smile. How could someone, let alone a stranger he met, be this beautiful? His mind drifted to a small montage of made-up scenarios. He could see a growing relationship with her- a family even. Would his mother approve? Would Newt approve? She’d make a great addition to the Scamander family.

“Sorry I took too long. Ready to- Merlin, (Y/N)! I leave for five minutes!” Victoria’s voice yelled from behind Theseus.

“Sorry about that.” (Y/N) mumbled.

He turned in his seat to face Victoria. “I-I’m sure you’d like an explanation, but first, hello.” He stuttered.

(Y/N) emerged from behind him, walking over to her friend. “Vi! This is Theseus. Theseus this is my best friend, Victoria.”

‘He looks so familiar. I’ve seen his face somewhere before.’ Victoria thought.

•✦.✧.🔎.✧.✦•

On Theseus and (Y/N)’s first date, they went to a coffee shop.

“So you’re part of the law enforcement? Are you sure you retired from your military work?” She joked.

Theseus chuckled softly before sipping on his tea- he was never a coffee person. “First, yes. I’m retired. And yes, I work within law enforcement. I’m what you call “well respected”. And what about you, love?”

She blushed. “I work in the field then do some paperwork. That’s all. Nothing that special.”

“Hm…” He thought for a moment before an idea popped into his head. “Ever thought about working for the Ministry? They could use a couple of recruits in the Auror Department. I’m sure Victoria would join as well. Training is only about three years and with your skills, I’m sure you two would be a great Aurors.”

(Y/N) smiled before sipping on her cup of coffee. ‘Only if you knew…’

~*~*~

For their next date, they went out for a walk in the park. It was cold out, so they wore their long coats and their house scarves.

“No way! You were a Hufflepuff? I thought you were a Gryffindor!” (Y/N) exclaimed as he neared their meeting spot.

Theseus smiled, “Well, hello to you too.” He then stood in front of her, ruffling her hair. “Well then, Little Miss Ravenclaw, aren’t you full of surprises?” He teased.

She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “What house did you think I was in…?”

He gestured to his Hufflepuff scarf.

“If the Sorting Hat sorted me again, I’m pretty sure I’d be in Hufflepuff. If Victoria got sorted again… She’d definitely be a Slytherin.”

“Then again, you’re the feistiest Ravenclaw I’ve ever met.” Theseus teased, poking her cheek softly.

(Y/N) swatted his hand away from her face, “W-Well you’re the cockiest Hufflepuff I’ve ever met.

~*~*~

The third time they went out, they went to a fancy restaurant.

“Theseus… Where are we going?” She asked as they walked hand in hand.

“Somewhere special. I’ve been dying to take you out here for months.”

“Oh?” She asked. “What did I do to deserve this?”

He smiled as they turned the corner. “Ah, here we are!”

(Y/N) looked at the building and gasped. “Theseus… The Ritz?! This must've cost you a fortune!”

He kissed her cheek, “Anything for you.”

~*~*~

Then came their fourth date. Theseus had decided on that night, he’d make their relationship official. He would’ve done it sooner, but he’d only met her a year ago. He wanted time to get to know her and make sure it wasn’t an impulse decision. To his surprise, she agreed. So after a year-long wait, he took his chance. Nothing to lose… right?

After dinner, they decided to take a walk in the park. A last-minute plan she was not dressed for.

“You know, despite its kleptomania for shiny things, I always wanted a Niffler. They’re such interesting creatures.” She admitted.

Theseus chuckled- a sound that was now music to (Y/N)’s ears. “You sound like my brother. He’s into all that care of magical creatures stuff. Me? Not so much.”

She hummed, “I’d like to meet your brother sometime…”

“I’ll set up a date for all us to have tea when he comes back from his travels.”

“C-Can’t wait!” She stuttered as she rubbed her upper arms for warmth.

He noticed this and nonchalantly removed his coat. He draped it over her shoulders, “Sorry. It’s my fault you’re cold.”

She held the lapels of his coat, “But now you’ll get cold!”

“It looks better on you than it did me.” He gave her a playful wink.

(Y/N) gasped as she remembered a moment like that. All those years ago at Hogwarts- with Newt. Though she dismissed the thoughts of her first love. Newt wasn’t there with her. Theseus was. Newt hadn’t taken her out on those wonderful dates. Theseus had. Newt didn’t love her. Theseus did- or so she hoped.

Theseus had stopped them in front of a water fountain. The sound of trickling water and the echoes of the city filled the silence. He shoved his hands into his pockets. Were his hands always this sweaty? He took a deep breath and exhaled. It was now or never.

“Theseus, darling, A-Are you alright?” She asked, one of her hands cupping his cheek.

He hummed and leaned into her touch. Despite the cold, her hand was radiating so much warmth. He looked at her lovingly, “Yes, dear. Everything is fine.”

“(Y/N)… During my Hogwarts years, I never gave dating a second thought. And after I graduated, I immediately started working for the Ministry. Then I got sent to war. Merlin- I never want to step foot in a muggle war ever again.” He paused to make sure she was paying attention.

Her hand returned to the warmth of his coat. She nodded, giving him the okay to continue.

“And when I returned home, I was so set on returning to my duties at the Ministry. Then I met you. You wonderful, beautiful, intelligent woman. I couldn’t believe that I caught your attention. I know I’m rambling and your feet must be in pain for standing for so long, so let me ask you this.” He paused for a second. “Will you allow me to date you properly? To make this- us, official?”

(Y/N) smiled. “Theseus… I never thought you’d ask. I’d love to be your girlfriend.”

Full of joy, Theseus wrapped his arms around her and spun around. Their laughs mixed, composing a duet that harmonized with each other perfectly.

When he set her down, she sighed in content. “Oh, Theseus…”

He cupped her face, his thumb caressing her cheek. “Can… Can I kiss you?”

She nodded. “Yes-”

He cut her response short, closing the gap between their lips.

•✦.✧.🔎.✧.✦•

The New Year’s season came to pass and it was the start of the 1920s. Victoria and (Y/N) transferred to the Aurors Department. Effective immediately. They loved the Investigation Department and everyone there. Must've been something serious if their transfer was immediate.

Little did they know, Theseus was the Head of the Auror department.

On the way to the meeting room, (Y/N) was ranting about the sudden change. Victoria was saying her thoughts about the matter but listened to her friend’s distress. They walked past an office and Victoria caught the nameplate on the door that read “Theseus Scamander”

Scamander? Oh-

Before Victoria could ask questions, they had gotten to the meeting room. There were other Aurors in the department. Everyone there knew each other, so Victoria and (Y/N) were the “newbies”.

Victoria turned to (Y/N), “Hey… You know that boyfriend of yours, did you by any chance get his last name?” She whispered.

(Y/N) shrugged, “No. I didn’t think it mattered.”

“Well, let me tell you-”

The Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Torquil Travers, entered the room from the back entrance. “Fellow Aurors! As you all know, Grindelwald is gathering up recruits for his “For the Greater Good” revolution. All of you are here today to form up a special task force in bringing him and his organization down. Leading you in this endeavor is the new Head of Auror Office and retired War Hero, Theseus Scamander.”

A round of applause erupted, welcoming the new Head of Auror Office.

Turning towards Travers, Victoria clapped along. “I’m sure it’s not your Theseus-”

“Oh shit.” (Y/N) cursed as she saw her beloved walk through the doors.

Theseus nodded as he walked towards his new task force.

Travers patted his back, “You’ll need to choose an assistant and a communications liaison, but take your time.”

Theseus scanned the room. He knew all of the people, some he trusted, and some he didn’t. Then he saw a pair he knew all too well- but he only saw them outside of work- (Y/N) and Victoria.

(Y/N) gave a shy smile, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.

Victoria smirked, “You’re screwed.”

As the applause died down, Theseus announced, “I’ve already chosen the people for the positions. For my assistant, I’ll be having Miss (Y/N) (L/N).”

She blushed as she felt everyone’s eyes on her. Though slightly confused, the other Aurors in the room applauded.

Victoria leaned down again, “Try not to make too much noise in his office, eh?”

(Y/N) opened her mouth to gasp, but nothing came out. “I would never!”

“And my Communications Liaison will be Miss Victoria Howard.”

(Y/N) nudged her friend, “You’re stuck with us now.”

Victoria laughed nervously, waving at everyone. “Brilliant…”

~*~*~

The three of them were in Theseus’ office. (Y/N) was pacing back and forth as Theseus was sitting at his desk and Victoria leaning against the bookshelf.

“Why me? Why another Scamander?” She groaned in agony. “How did I not know!” She muttered.

“Love, what’s the problem?” Theseus asked, slightly worried.

“You wouldn’t by any chance have a brother would you?” Victoria asked, looking at him.

“Yeah.” He replied, his attention still towards (Y/N), who was still pacing back and forth.

“About this tall?” She said, extending her arm to its highest point.

“Around there.”

“Loves magical creatures?” She asked, now crossing her arms over her chest.

“More than life itself.”

“Got expelled from Hogwarts in his sixth year?”

“Yes. Wait, how did you-”

“I figured.” She gave a curt nod before looking at her distressed friend. “Honey, you need to calm down.”

(Y/N) stopped in her tracks and faced Victoria. Her eyes were on the verge of tears.

Victoria's expression softened as she shoved aside the blunt responses she had prepared in her mind. “Hey… Come here…” She cooed as she walked over to her with arms wide open.

(Y/N) quickly ran into Victoria’s embrace, letting the tears fall. She mumbled something into her shoulder.

“What was that, dear?” She asked softly.

(Y/N) pulled away, “I said, what am I going to tell Newt? I’ve told him that I recently got a boyfriend. How is he going to react when it’s his brother?”

Victoria rolled her eyes. “What’s it to him? He’s your best friend.” She said, emphasizing the fact that Newt was just her friend. “If it’s his brother or not, who you date is not his business.”

Theseus stood from his seat and walked over to the pair. “If it makes you feel better, we can invite him over for tea and tell him.”

(Y/N) moves from Victoria’s arms and walks over to Theseus. “I… I think I’d like that.”

•✦.✧.🔎.✧.✦•

Despite Theseus and (Y/N)’s relationship, they never let it get in the way of their work. (Y/N) had the same workload and deadlines as the others in the task force.

Victoria was still expected to represent the Ministry’s Auror department, write news releases, and coordinate the distribution of information along with her fieldwork.

Theseus randomly assigned partners in every stakeout or raid- mostly because he’d feel like he’d protect the hell out of (Y/N) if she was paired up with him all the time. (Y/N) was capable, and he knew that.

Though there are sometimes where one of them got hurt and the other can’t help but care for them.

(Y/N) had made Theseus take off his blazer and rolled up the sleeve of his left arm. Blood dripped from the wound caused by one of Grindelwald’s recruits. She sat on a short stool with a bucket of warm water off to the side, just within arms reach.

Theseus slouched in the chair, flinching at the slightest touches (Y/N) made with the towel. She had wiped off all the dried blood surrounding the wound. Then she started dabbing the towel ever so gently on top of it. The towel was damp and warm, but it didn’t make the pain any softer.

He grimaced as he inhaled sharply, jerking his arm away from her.

“I need to clean your wound, love” (Y/N) said, reaching over to where he moved his arm.

“But (Y/N) it hurts!” He whined.

“You’re being childish.” She replied.

“W-Well you’re not the one on the receiving end!”

“Honey, you were a soldier. I’m sure you’ve dealt with more serious wounds than this…”

“That’s because I didn’t have someone as cute as you cleaning me up.”

“Flattery won’t get your wound cleaned up.”

“Can’t you just use a spell?”

“Unlike most wizards, I like to do some things without the use of magic.”

He huffed childishly, not looking at her.

“If you didn’t move, it wouldn’t hurt as much.”

Theseus grumbled, still moving his arm away.

“Theseus Scamander, hold still or so help me I will hex you!”

“I thought we didn’t allow magic in the bedroom~” He teased.

“Theseus! We’re at work!”

•✦.✧.🔎.✧.✦•

After months of asking and asking, Theseus had finally convinced Newt to come and visit him- to finally meet his girlfriend. (Y/N) had already decided on the tea so they were waiting for Newt to arrive.

As they waited, Theseus was looking over some reports as (Y/N) was leaning on his bookshelf, doing some light reading.

He sighed, setting the papers in his hand back down on his desk. Glancing over to (Y/N), he smiled, ‘She’s beautiful even when she’s reading…’

Theseus looked at her ensemble. A white long-sleeved button-up, a grey vest with a matching blazer, and dress pants. He looked at his suit- the same color scheme. Were they always matching?

He looked at her again and noticed that this time, she wore a tie with her suit, but not just any tie. A yellow and black tie- His Hufflepuff tie. Theseus smiled, “Hey (L/N), nice tie.”

(Y/N) nodded, turning the page of her book. “Yeah? I put it on this morning.” She said nonchalantly.

Theseus stood and made his way over. When he stood in front of her, he took the book from her hands and set it to the side. “Where’d you get it?”

She looked up at him. Was he always this tall? “Hogwarts. From when I went there. Duh.”

“Really? Because I remember you telling me that you were a Ravenclaw,” He said untucking the tie from under her vest. “This is clearly a Hufflepuff tie.” He held up the end of the tie in her line of view.

(Y/N) gasped. “I swear, it was an honest mistake!”

“Hmm…” He trailed off. “I kind of like seeing you in my ties. It’s cute.” He said, leaning in close.

“Thes… We’re at work… A-And your brother could walk in any minute-”

His fingers slid up the material, finally wrapping around the knot. “Yeah… But I haven’t kissed you since we left my flat…” He whispered, tugging softly as if to bring her closer.

She could feel herself leaning in close. Her lip mere millimeters away-

“Here we are! Head of Aurors Office!” Victoria said, opening the door to Theseus’ office. She and Newt walked in.

(Y/N) quickly pushed Theseus away, shoving the tie back under her vest.

“Newt!” (Y/N) exclaimed, shoving herself off the bookshelf.

“Brother!” Theseus said happily as he walked over to Newt.

There, Newt stood in a nice suit, a mustard yellow vest, and a blue overcoat. In his hand was a suitcase. The enchanted suitcase that (Y/N) had read so much about in his letters.

“Wait, when you told me in your letter that you had a boyfriend, you never told me it was my brother,” Newt said, slightly hurt.

“We meant to tell you!” Theseus said defensively.

“When? When I catch you almost snogging each other?” Newt retorted, glaring at his brother

“No! It would be over tea! Which we would be having right now…” She pouted.

“I think… I think I’d like a rain check on that…” He said as he started to back away.

“Newt! Don’t do this!” Victoria pleaded.

He finally turned around and walked to the door. When he got there, he stopped in Victoria’s line of view. Newt didn’t face her. He looked straight ahead, grip tightening on the handle of his case. “You knew and didn’t tell me?” Newt asked bitterly.

Victoria placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. She opened her mouth to say something and for once, she didn’t have a blunt response or snarky remark. “It wasn’t my position to say…”

Newt scoffed. “It would’ve been nice to know beforehand,” He said before shoving her hand off and walking away from Theseus’ office. Away from his brother. Away from his friend. Away from her. Newt hadn’t seen then in so long and now that he had the chance… He just left…?

(Y/N) quickly ran after him, “Newt, wait!”

Victoria leaned against the door frame, banging the back of her head against the wood. “It’s always a Scamander…”

Theseus looked at Victoria. “Did… Did they have something?”

Victoria sighed, stopping from her current action to look at Theseus. “It’s not my position to say…”

~*~*~

In the hallway, (Y/N) finally caught up to Newt. She held onto the material of his sleeve.

“Back there,” She panted. “What was that about?”

“You… You’re dating my brother?” He asked. Stupid question, but he needed to hear it again to make sure he wasn’t imagining it.

“Yeah, what’s it to you?” (Y/N) said, but her tone made it sound rude.

“Didn’t think he’d be your type…” Newt mumbled.

“And you know what my type is?” She replied, slightly offended.

“I…” Newt paused. ‘I was hoping that it’d be me.’ He thought.

(Y/N) sighed, finally letting go of his sleeve. “Look, you’re my best friend and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I’ll admit that it was my fault, but I don’t want to lose you just because I’m dating your brother. I-”

“What?” Newt interrupted. “One Scamander isn’t enough? You need both of us in your life, do you? Why do you need me? You already have Theseus wrapped around your fingers.” He snapped.

“What is up with you, Newton?” She groaned in frustration. “You know what? Now is not the time. I’ll give you all the time and space you need. When you’re ready to talk about this, I’m only an owl away.” She turned to leave, but not before saying something that made Newt realize how he felt about his best friend.

“Just know that before Theseus,” She paused. “It was always you.”

#fbawtft #fbtcog #theseus scamander x reader #theseus scamander #fantastic beasts fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #Series: ILYMS

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waywardnerd67 · 3 years

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2021 Star Spangled Bingo Masterlist

**COMING SOON**

The Winter Lawyer – Bucky x Reader Squared Filled: Lawyer AU Summary: (Y/N) searches for a lawyer to help with a high profile divorce and walks into the office of a former lover from her past. Warnings: Fluff/Smut Word Count:

Are These Yours? – Steve x Reader Squared Filled: Meet Cute Summary: She never expected to meet Captain America at the laundry nor did (Y/N) expect for him to show up at her apartment with something she had left behind. Warnings: Fluff Word Count:

Date Night – Steve x Sharon Carter Squared Filled: Hydra Attack Summary: Steve finally works up the courage to ask Sharon on a date. Their seemingly perfect night ends with a great loss. Warnings: Angst/Fluff Word Count:

Falcon & Hawk – Sam x Reader Squared Filled: Growing Apart Summary: Best friends, partners, lovers. It was always her and him. Falcon and Hawk. Now her wings were clipped as he soared through the skies saving the world. Now, she must make the most difficult decision of her life. Warnings: Angst Word Count:

Recruit – No Pairing Squared Filled: Meeting the other Avengers Summary: (Y/N) spent the last year training with Captain Steve Rogers and Airman Sam Wilson. Now, graduating to be in the Avengers she is now getting the chance to meet her new team. Warnings: Fluff Word Count:

Playing House – Bucky x Reader Squared Filled: Undercover Together Summary: In order to infiltrate a Hydra cell, Bucky and (Y/N) must go undercover as husband and wife. Feelings she had buried long ago now coming to the surface. Warnings: Fluff/Smut Word Count:

Saving Me – Steve x Reader Squared Filled: Child Abuse Summary: Her only goal was to thank the man who saved her when she was a child. Nothing could compare her for what happens when she achieves that goal. Warnings: Angst/Fluff Word Count:

Soldier Boys – No Pairing Squared Filled: Playlist Summary: Steve, Bucky and Sam decide to train together. Warnings: Fluff Word Count:

On The List – Steve x Reader Squared Filled: Watching Porn Summary: Steve has only one more item on his list and asks (Y/N) to help him with it. Warnings: Fluff/Smut Word Count:

Hungry – Bucky x Reader Squared Filled: Food Play Summary: What started out as a playful food fight becomes much more for Bucky and (Y/N). Warnings: Word Count:

Girl From Queens – Steve x Reader x Bucky Squared Filled: Queens Summary: A vigilante has been taking out criminals in Queens. Steve and Bucky decide to go search the vigilante out only to be met with a girl from their past. Warnings: Fluff/Smut Word Count:

The Scientist – Bucky x Reader Squared Filled: Chaotic Lab Summary: It has always been her and him since they found him in the snow. The love of her life and center of her world. Now, she has found him once more working with those she had actively been working to take down. Warnings: Angst/Smut Word Count:

Love and Honor – Sam x Reader Squared Filled: Friends to Lovers Summary: She trusted him with her life since they were kids. Somewhere between fighting in the desert and being recruited into the Avengers, feelings had developed between them. Warnings: Fluff Word Count:

Visitor Pass – Steve x Reader Squared Filled: Dept of the Ocean Summary: Steve goes to visits (Y/N) at her new post at Raft. Warnings: Fluff Word Count:

Frenemies – No Pairing Squared Filled: “Why the long face?” Summary: (Y/N) calls for a meeting to get two Avengers to speak to one another again. Warnings: Fluff Word Count:

Comfort – Steve x Reader Squared Filled: “Need a medic?” Summary: Even Captain America sometimes needs to be patched up and coddled. Warnings: Fluff Word Count:

Self Care – Bucky x Reader Squared Filled: Dildo Summary: In need of relaxation and a release, (Y/N) is caught by her partner amidst taking care of herself. Warnings: Word Count:

Checkered Flag – No Pairing Squared Filled: Race Driver AU Summary: Team Captains is in the race of their lives against Team Iron. Warnings: Fluff Word Count:

Sweet & Spicy – Steve x Natasha Squared Filled: Breakfast in Bed Summary: What was intended to be a nice gesture turns into a heated moment between two Avengers. Warnings: Fluff/Smut Word Count:

Keep Up Old Man – Steve x Reader Squared Filled: “You never what? You didn’t finish!” Summary: Date night with Steve always ends up in a competition. Warnings: Fluff Word Count:

The Right Partner – Pre-Serum!Steve x Plus Size!Reader Squared Filled: “Come on girls. They are playing our song?” Summary: Bucky convinces Steve to go out on a double date before he ships off to war. Steve never thought he would meet the woman that would change everything for him. Warnings: Fluff Word Count:

Handsome and the Hag – Steve x Reader Squared Filled: Model AU Summary: She was an ordinary woman whose whole world was centered around the world’s most beautiful man. That world is knocked off kilter when he approaches her with the opportunity of a lifetime. Warnings: Fluff Word Count:

Three’s Company – Bucky x Reader x Natasha Squared Filled: Bisexual Character Summary: (Y/N) comes out to her lovers hoping they will not hate her for lying to them. Warnings: Angst/Fluff/Smut Word Count:

Volunteer – No Pairing Squared Filled: Interacting with kids Summary: Steve and Sam go to visit an orphanage meeting a special young lady who could one day change the world. Warnings: Fluff Word Count:

The Symbol to my Soul: The Captain’s Star – Steve x Sharon / Dean Winchester x Reader Squared Filled: Free Space Summary: A new branch of the Avengers are saving people, hunting things and assembling Earth’s mightiest heroes. Everyone has a mark on their soul chosen according to their destiny and imprinted upon their soulmate to reveal who they are. Steve’s soul mark had belonged to one woman whom he could never be with only to find out that it was truly meant to someone even closer to him. While working with (Y/N) aka Lady America and her soulmate, a hunter named Dean Winchester, they provide clarity to his hesitation to act on what his destiny demanded of him. Warnings: Angst/Fluff Word Count:

#ssb2021 #waywardnerd67fics #star spangled bingo 2021 masterlist

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writefasttalkevenfaster · 4 years

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Writing Q&A Tag Thing

I was tagged by the amazing @the-novel-on-the-left! Thank you <3

Which fandoms do you write for?

Oh too many. SVU, Criminal Minds, Elementary, Marvel, DCU, Stranger Things, Spiderverse, Law and Order, and most recently I’m making a foray into Star Wars.

Which characters do you write?

Again, too many - Rafael Barba, Sonny Carisi, Aaron Hotchner, Spencer Reid, Hopper, Thor, Captain America, Peter B. Parker, Sherlock Holmes, Tony Stark...I’m sure I’m missing some.

Is there any character you currently don’t write for but want to, if any?

Oh yeah definitely. Well I’m writing for Poe Dameron rn and I definitely want to write for the Mandalorian (i’ve started a fic, haven’t finished it yet).

Who is your favorite character to write?

Oh every character is difficult in different ways - Reid was hard b/c i like to get into the mind of the character i write, and his mind works very uniquely so it was difficult to get into his mindset. I also struggle with Captain America, like Steve is so hard to pin down honestly.

Are you working on a fic right now?

....too many. I’m working on a Poe Dameron fic that has taken over my life and is now 10K. I’m still not done, i don’t know when I’ll be done honestly.

I’m working on a Hotch fic, a Tony fic, a Sherlock fic, a Harry Wells fic, a Sonny fic, an Agent Whiskey fic, a Mandalorian fic, and god knows what else that’s saved in my drafts (last time i counted I think i had eight, but i’m sure there are other ones i just never finished).

How long are your fics usually?

Really depends. The Poe fic is mostly an outlier - i’m not one for long fics - i prefer one-shots. usually somewhere between 1K-4K.

What do you write most off? Fluff, smut, angst, dark?

I used to write a lot of angst, lately its been more fluff - now its just a mix of everything.

Do you have a playlist or specific music you listen to when you write?

Depends on what i’m writing - usually just one song on repeat b/c it becomes background noise. For the Poe fic, it’s been Lover by Taylor Swift or Say so by Doja Cat.

Are there things you like to do while writing?

I get incredibly distracted - or i’m so into it that i don’t stop until I’m done. It’s one of the other.

What writing program do you use?

I go back and forth between google drive and word doc - lately its been google docs since I can write on my walks outside.

How long have you been writing for?

For a long time - I used to help my brother brainstorm for his novel. I didn’t start writing myself for real until I was 11 or 12 after I won two writing contests in my grade. And that’s when I realized i really loved it. And i never stopped.

I tag @juliawinchester14, @mrsrafaelbarba, @infj-slytherclaw,

#about me #wftf replies #writing tag game

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umbraastaff · 5 years

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I’ve just been thinking--it’s about time I make a proper index for my TAZ fics, huh? Also contains: mini-series, ficlets, goof posts, and lyric comics.

(All of the fics are rated G, or T at most for McElroy-appropriate language.)

FICS

I Saw Seven Bounties | Canon Compliant, Enemies to Friends, Complete | Mostly lighthearted, episodic recounting of Kravitz and Barry’s rivalry throughout those first twelve years on Faerun. 24K. -->Extras: Lich Eyes, Fantasy Starbucks, Alt POV for Chapter 1 & Chapter 5, Sorry

They Say Fire Took Phandalin | Small-town supernatural/sorta-haunted-house AU | Fresh out of grad school, Barry Bluejeans takes a job and a house in the rural nowhere-town of Phandalin. And it’s not like he thought fitting in would be a walk in the park, but the people there all act really weird, and it’s almost like they’re expecting something of him, too. 11K/~20K.

What Can’t Be Done Alone (Detective Squad) | Canon Divergent, Found Family, Fluff | AU where the voidfish works a little better, and Angus never finds the Bureau. Instead, he finds a strange lich in a cave, and he most certainly continues to work this case and not gradually get adopted instead. 18K/~22K. -->Extras: Drangus AU Oneshot

If I Wanted to be Funny I’d Name This Fic “The Time Belt” | Futuristic sci-fi AU feat. time travel | Taako meets the only people in years who recognize the Institute’s name. Known time criminal Barry Bluejeans continues to evade law enforcement. 2K/??.

Overgrowth / Undercurrent | Roleswap AU, Johnchurch, Pining, Twoshot, Happy ending optional | Overgrowth is a oneshot that follows John, the Starblaster’s chief diplomat, through a series of parleys with Merle, the center of the plane-consuming mass of plants that’s been chasing his crew. Undercurrent is a sequel about their post-canon reunion. 4K + 6K. --> Extras: PLAYLIST by @merle-casts-zone-of-truth

Davenport Remembers | Post-canon, Oneshot | Davenport meets with his crew members to try to reconcile his anger with Lucretia, or to decide whether he should. 1.5K.

MINI-SERIES

AU Where Taako is a Lich - Pretty much what it says on the tin here, folks!

Baritz (ask series) - A fusion of Barry and Kravitz, who took over my blog and answered asks for a while. (He originated in the Gallows/S&S lyric comic.)

Good Adventures (Good Omens crossover) - The Antichrist’s wishes summon the wrong boatful of aliens. Thankfully, it seems they’re apocalypse experts. [with plot-ideas help from @avijohann.]

Omen Zone (Good Omens crossover 2) - Barry is a demon. Kravitz is an angel. Kravitz probably won’t ever admit that they’re friends.

Pokémon: Century Version (Pokémon crossover) - Stolen Century AU where they’re all pokémon trainers. Faerun spin-off: Double Trouble

Till Death, Don’t Let’s Start - Barry fucks up. Kravitz is present.

Very Normal Blog Posts (ask series) - In which Garfield is not at all dangerous, and I am perfectly fine. <alt: chronological link - desktop only>

COMICS & ART

Gallows/Steady and Stronger (Double lyric comic) - Canon-divergent AU where, as the world is ending, Barry gives up to Kravitz. [Image description version]

[Lyric Comics] - Other, shorter lyric comics based on single verses of songs.

Dear Scientist’s Log (series) - Illustrated ship logs from Barry J. Bluejeans.

Movie Madness (Comic) - Barry obsesses over the unforgivable.

Palette Prompts (Arts) - Art from art meme prompts.

Pregananant (goof comic) - You know the one.

REAPER (Comic) - Baritz fuses with Lup.

These Jeans? (Animatic) - Barry advertises jeans.

They’re Both Tessa Thompson (Comic) - Lucretia has a nightmare. Barry reassures her.

War (Goof comic) - prompt: "taakitz with CAT”

What’s bigger than this? - The Red Robe.

FICLETS

Back Soon - Kravitz leaves a note with unfortunate wording.

Bodyswap: Barry & Davenport - During Wonderland.

Casual - AU where the red robe talks like a normal person.

Command - Barry misuses his magic.

Davenport - There’s something unsettling about that butler.

Hangin’ Out - Lup and Magnus.

Harvest - Roleswap AU: Barry is the Hunger.

Healing Necromancy - Merle tries to teach Barry some tricks.

Hope - Barry knows she’s still out there.

How Long? - Taako is frustrated.

In Pieces - The staff.

Liches Forget Too - AU.

Lucretia Forgets - In which there was a mistake with the voidfish ichor.

Lup’s Robe - Gifts from Taako.

Mourning Glories - The flowers in Merle’s beard.

New Years - Celebrations and fears.

Parole - Barry and Kravitz bonding hours.

Phone a Friend - Baritz (the fusion from Gallows/S&S) meets Angus.

Raising the Dead - Barry has to use his crew members’ corpses. [sequel]

Robbie...? - Magnus breaks into the brig immediately after Petals to the Metal.

Second Apocalypse - Based on that one party liveshow. What was the rest of the crew doing, again?

3 Sentence Fics - Pairing + AU prompts.

Smartstone - Lup gets stuck in a Stone of Far Speech, instead.

Stir Crazy - Barry waiting for a new body to grow. Thoughts of Lucretia.

Writing Things Down - In case you forget (again).

You Remember - Taako remembers.

PROMINENT GOOFS

Barry’s Dead - But he’s fine! Calm down!

Character Development - Joke’s on you, DM!

Crystal Kingdom - An absolutely bonkers arc.

Dealer - Merle pun.

Decapitate Me - for making this post

Don’t Care - Taako during the finale. [bonus]

Epilogue - Bracer struggles. [bonus: 1, 2]

Explain the Hunger (Good Omens crossover) - Magnus explains the hunger to Aziraphale and Crowley. They react in varying ways. [with cursed art contributions from @avijohann and @mspainttaz]

Fifteen Dollars - Plus interest. [Bonus]

Fullmetal Kingdom - They’re the same, right?

Gender - And lack of roles.

Gnomes Don’t Exist - They’re all aliens, actually.

Hot Diggity Shit - Been a while.

Icon Confusion - The saga of people thinking my icon is a carrot. [chrono link - desktop only]

Incomprehensible Denim - Jeff Angel’s illegal pants.

In Case it Changes Anything - Taako, Kravitz, and lies.

Irresponsible Teens - Magnus and Lucretia get into trouble.

I Saw Seven Nerds - That’s the post.

Gogurt - Taako’s crimes.

Learning to Drive - i.e. Barry & Davenport Bonding(?) Hours.

Live Shows - The general mood.

Lucretia’s Efforts - A proper meme? On my TAZ blog?

Lup Said No Thanks - That time Magnus was in a tree.

Magnus’ Death - So many close calls.

Nearest Middle-Aged Woman - Clint’s characters’ friends.

Necromancy? - You must be mistaken!

Ned’s Aliases - The Truth.

Pirate Debt - Davenport during that one liveshow.

Punch Squad - SQUAD!

Reaper Cloak - Thoughts.

Relic Names - She probably changed them.

Responsible Necromancy - Good and bad ideas.

Resume - It’s not like they thought it would be relevant.

Schools of Magic - And the Sash was what, again?

Self Care - Respect the dead, please.

Server Shenaniganry (art) - TAAKO THE CAT, NO!

Soulmate AU - Where your soulmate’s greatest enemy is on your wrist. [alt]

Stern’s Truth - You Know.

Taako’s Last Name - Taako’s last name.

Team Composition - The post where everyone wants to argue with me about what qualifies as a wizard.

Third Option - Taako saves the day.

You’re Laughing - End of Suffering Game.

THEORIES/MECHANICS/THOUGHTS

Aloof - Holes Taako refuses to fill.

Barry’s Lucky Possessee - Graphic novel theory hopes & dreams.

Catpiling - Stolen Century thought.

Davenport’s Deaths - Sucks when you always wake up driving.

Death Leaves a Mark - Stolen Century AU concept.

Everyone Else - Some people didn’t get perfect endings.

Fantasy Nonsense - lore about the word “fantasy,” as in “Jesus Fantasy Christ.”

Fragments - Magnus’ memory.

Forgiveness - Old post about the crew’s thoughts on Lucretia’s actions.

Forgot to Erase - Lucretia’s errors.

FULL TIMELINE POST - the Balance timeline.

Gauntlet - (disproven!) Theory about the final relic, from before it was confirmed in the show.

Gnome Nicknames - Thoughts on Cap’nport.

High School AU - Some old headcanons.

Home World Names - The pattern in surnames (or lack thereof) on the IPRE’s homeworld.

Hour - This isn’t a thought so much as an Actual Thing That Magnus Said before the time loops had started, which is absurd.

Idiots in Love - The IPRE’s collective braincell was lost for all of Legato. [2]

Liches, Alone - Being stuck as raw emotion for an awfully long time.

Losing Julia - And subsequent developments.

Love - What was remembered and forgotten.

Love Without Fear - Thoughts on bonds during the Stolen Century.

Memory - Barry actually shouldn’t have remembered anything.

Nickname - Memory of Lup.

Paladin Barry Theory - Converging evidence on Barry’s multiclassing.

Paradox AU - blueprint for 8th, 9th, 10th, etc. Bird AU of your choice(s). (Extra)

Phylactery Mechanics - How liches differ.

Produce Flame - Mechanics of John killing Merle.

Recklessness - THB’s actions recontextualized.

Relic Schools of Magic - They don’t have them!!!

Relicswap AU - Where all the birds get swapped out.

Seven Birds as Gods - Ask-prompt thoughts.

Staring at the Sun - The birds and their light sensitivity.

Story, Song, & Sorcery - Effects on the young population.

Sword Tornado - Magnus Mechanics. [bonus: Time Warlock]

The Good Place AU - A series of crossover thoughts.

Tree Climbing - Davenport shenanigans.

Unique Magic Types - [and combo styles]

What Killed Maureen - hint: it wasn’t Fisher.

#the adventure zone #taz balance #mine #index #there were a fair few in here that id forgotten about too!#god i hope i didnt mess up any of these links

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the-darklings · 5 years

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[lets talk about writing]

Thank you so much to my lovely girls @deviantramblings & @thedragonkween for tagging me, this was a little different but I really enjoyed answering these!

(putting answers under the cut because I got carried away ayyy)

–

short stories, novels, or poems?

Novels. This is purely because I like stories building from the ground up and getting completely sucked into a different world. I could spend days upon days reading novels tbh. Short stories have recently grown on me though. They can really pack a punch and take a lot of skill to do well. Poems...everyone has very different opinions on what is actually considered “poetry”.

what genre do you prefer reading?

I’m huge on Fantasy. Throw in some Romance (rarely on its own though), Sci-Fi, Mystery and we’re good to go. I enjoy the richness of fantasy worlds because it takes a really good author to do good world building/magic systems etc. Also, I’m a sucker for political manipulations and magic.

what genre do you prefer writing?

Depends on my mood. I suppose at the core of my writing is Romantic fluff/angst. Though I also really enjoy writing Sci-Fi (though, again, I’m nowhere near intelligent enough for hard Sci-Fi lol).

are you a planner or a write-as-I-go kind of person?

I used to be a chaotic writer. Never planned anything and suffered for it tbh. Now I certainly plan more but I’m also a very big mood person so it’s a mix between the two truthfully.

what music do you listen to while writing?

I have entire playlists built for certain characters and had music inspire me while I’m writing lots of times before. It’s like air to me. But the actual content of these playlists varies because some songs might be there for a certain reason? Sometimes it’s sad, sometimes it’s very upbeat or dark. Each song usually corresponds to certain fics/scenes etc.

fave books/movies?

We’re going to be here a while ayyyy:

Books: Harry Potter, The Book Thief, The Poppy War (is it duology? series? dunno but the first book alone is worth a mention), Misborn Series, Shades of Magic Series, Vicious, The Grisha Trilogy/Six of Crows Duology, The Hunger Games, Alice (and many, many more)

Movies: The Shawshank Redemption, Inception, Beauty and the Beast, The Dark Knight Trilogy, Gladiator, LOTR/The Hobbit trilogies, Spirit Stallion of the Cimarron, Rise of the Guardians, the majority of Marvel movies (and many more yet again.)

any current WIPs?

Too many to count ayyy. But I’m currently slowly writing my first Arthur Morgan x Reader fic. It’s at 3.5k so far.

if someone were to make a cartoon out of you, what would your standard outfit be?

Black jeans, white/black/white/red or grey shirt, leather/denim jacket and sneakers.

create a character description for yourself:

A (poorly) multitasking idiot addicted to coffee and complex characters that will never be real.

do you like incorporating people you actually know into your writing?

Rarely. But fun fact, in by the grace (of hatred in my veins) the criminal that kidnaps the Reader? He was based on my former best friend lol.

are you kill-happy with characters?

Depends on the situation. I typically dislike unhappy endings because I want shit to work out in my fiction, ya know? Make me suffer but gimme a happy ending. That being said, as all of you know by now, I’m fine with hurting/killing characters if the narrative requires it. I do what needs to be done lol.

coffee or tea while writing?

Both. Tea more often than coffee because I do most of my writing later in the day but yes.

slow or fast writer?

Again, depends. I can write anywhere from 200 a day to 4k a day. Depends on the day/time I have available to me, and most importantly, inspiration.

where/who/what do you find inspiration from?

I’m a very visual person. I have Pinterest boards, writing inspo tag etc. photography, quotes, they all inspire me a great deal. Music as well. They’re all crucial to my creative process.

if you were put into a fantasy world, what would you be?

Assassin. Because I would be out to get all that ass and get rich obviously. Bonus points if I get cool superpowers.

most fave book cliche? least fave book cliche?

Fave: enemies to lovers or just power couples in general. Nothing more brilliant that two people who hate each other and through circumstances come to realise that they are more alike than they ever imagined. Terrifying separately, a pure nightmare together. Shout out to mutual pining, and slowburn too.

Least fave: cookie cutter “chosen one”. I’ve seen this trope done really well but most of the time it irks me so much. Especially in fantasy books because I feel like I’m reading the same character over and over again.

fave scenes to write?

Angst and romantic tension scenes. Kisses are fun too because you really poke around the sensations/thoughts/feelings of a character.

most productive time of day for writing?

I try to do as much writing as possible during the day but it rarely works out because I’m typically really busy during the day. Evening time is when I sit behind my computer properly so I try to dedicate it to the blog (like answering your questions etc) but I now take a more chill approach and write more during the evening time. But again, my productivity depends on my mood/health.

reason for writing?

Enjoyment (despite how painful it is). The idea of others liking my writing is amazing though. I’ll be honest, I also find people really fascinating? I like thought process/construction of characters and these wild stories you are able to tell through words alone. Writing is just pure creation? I love it. My friends would probably tell you that I also have a lowkey God Complex lmao.

–

tagging: @drmsqnc // @connorshero // @deviantcrimes // @thirium-ink // @deviancy-wasteland // @deviantsupporter // @the-kryomancer // @shadows-echoes & @negotiator-on-site and anyone else who decides they’d like to try it!!

#this was fun!#thank you for the tag #tagged #about me #etc #tag game

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theoneandonlyowengrady · 7 years

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We’ll Get Out of Here

Reader x Peter Quill

#35 [writing prompt link on my blog] “We’ll get out of here, one day.”

Requested by: @summertime-nd-butterflies

Warnings: angst | fluff | triggering (in a sense- fighting)

Summary: Originally this was going to be a cute, short one-shot like my previous one here but then I had this idea, and, well... Mostly it’s about being in a relationship with Starlord and wanting to go back home to earth, but then a fight breaks out and something unfortunate happens.

Word count: 3,278

His fingertips ran over the soft skin of your stomach under your shirt, his head resting half on your arm and half on your chest. He was half asleep, still dressed up for the day, his hair frizzy from their latest encounter. There had been bad luck with those odd jobs recently.

“We’ll get out of here, one day,” he whispered, placing his hand flat on your stomach, “I promise. Maybe we’ll even try to have a calmer life.”

You cracked a tiny smile, and slowly started playing with his hair. “That would be nice if you weren’t Starlord. You know, now that you’re guarding our galaxy, you can’t just retire.”

“I’ll work from home,” he said lazily.

“The entire galaxy, from Terra?”

He huffed. “I hear they’ve got their own super-heroes down there, maybe I’ll go ahead and join them. Pay some rent. Go to some concerts. Sit in a park, feed the birds.”

You chuckled. “Who knew you were such a simple man?”

It was silent for a moment. “I did,” he said, “I’m tired.”

You pressed a kiss to his forehead, “I know, go to sleep. I’ll be here in the morning.”

He let out a deep breath and his eyes fell closed. There was a little window besides where you slept, and you looked out to the stars, in all their glory, shimmering against the black sky.

You woke up slowly the next morning, your head aching from a bad nights sleep. Peter had already gotten up to take his turn watching and flying. Drax was snoring somewhere, and in the distance, Peter’s music was playing, just a low rumble gently coaxing you awake.

Your stomach growled. There usually weren’t very good breakfasts aboard the ship, which something else you had said that you missed about home. Stupid aliens, they usually abducted cows, yet one day they decided you looked a little tastier.

You forced yourself up, rubbing your eyes with one day while the other supported your weight on the small cot. Gamora sat awake, leaning against some cabinets and staring into some device she had found somewhere one on of your missions.

“Good morning,” you tried. She grunted, her eyes never leaving the screen before her.

You shrugged, your socks gliding along the cold floor. You yawned, your lungs filling until they almost hurt. “Peter?” You asked softly. Root stirred as you past.

“Up here,” he said, bobbing his head to his playlist. “You okay?”

You nodded, sitting down in the seat next to his. “I’m okay. Just tired. Do we have anywhere to go today?”

He reached a hand out to your thigh, his eyes glancing over to yours. “Yeah, just getting some stolen thing back for some rich guy.”

“Ugh,” you sighed. “those are the worst.”

He laughed, “it’ll be fine. It’ll be quick, and it’ll pay good.”

You smiled, “I guess that is good, then.”

He held open his palm, signaling of your hand. You pressed your fingers in between his, looking down at the callouses and scars. “Did you mean what you said last night,” you asked, “you know, about earth?”

He was silent. “I think so,” he tried, “I probably wouldn’t manage staying there too long. But I know you wanna go home, and, well, I could get you there. But I think I’d miss you.”

You sighed. “I’d miss you for sure,” you said, “things are rarely so simple. Maybe we could just visit, then? Grab a beer, pet some dogs, get some new music?”

“You don’t like my music?” He teased, raising his eyebrows, “I can’t believe this.”

“Oh, stop,” you said, rolling your eyes, “I mean more variety. I can only listen to the ‘ooga chacka’s” so many times.”

He smiled, his lips stretching into a thin line across his cheeks. His eyes crinkled up at their corners. “We should get everybody else up,” he said, “it’s an early job. We might as well get it done with.”

“I guess,” you groaned, standing up, his hand falling from yours. “I love you, Peter. You know that, right?”

He looked up at you, a little smirk playing on his lips. “Of course. And you know I love you,” he reached out and touched your stomach, “every little bit of you.”

“I hate these rich guys,” Rocket grumbled, putting his gun together with some loud clicks.

“I am Groot,” Groot said, frowning.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, you big softy.”

Drax took his seat with a thud besides them and yawned. Gamora had her head in her arms, half-napping as we rode into our next fight.

“It’ll be fast, you guys. And we need the credits. We’ll get a nice hot meal after this one, huh?” Peter said, throwing his head back towards us.

“Sure, sure,” Rocket groaned, rolling his eyes, “it’s always a hot meal, a bar, get kicked out of the bar, the ‘don’t you know who we are’ speech, and then getting tossed on our asses for the world to see.”

You laughed. “This time will be different.”

“You are an optimist,” Drax said with a throaty laugh, “it is a good quality, Y/N.”

You offered him a smile and sat down, combing through your hair with your fingers.

The lights around you buzzed and clicked off suddenly, sending a wave of anxiety down your body, your feet tensing beneath you. Everybody went quiet, and Gamora perked up.

There was a crash somewhere outside the ship, just barely audible.

“We’re landing, now,” Peter said, and there was a sharp change of course downwards to a small planet.

“What’s going on?” You whispered, reaching onto the table for a knife.

“Their attacking us,” Gamora said, “they always get the lights first. This thing will end better on solid ground.”

You nodded, clenching your fist around the blade’s handle. You swallowed. Everything would be okay, it always was.

The ships frame shuttered and groaned, the kind of sound that only metal could make, the kind of sound that haunted your nightmares. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, counting to ten.

One.

Two.

The floor began to shake.

Three.

Four.

Five.

The ship turned abruptly and knocked something down from the shelves.

Six.

Seven.

You landed, and it was quiet for a short moment.

Eight.

Nine.

You held your breath for a second.

Ten.

The doors fell open, and light flooded the dark space, directly across from you.

Gamora dropped and rolled towards the wall, and Rocket put Groot down onto the floor. You sat frozen, staring into the empty light as your vision adjusted.

Peter sunk from his chair and inched forward, and you could feel his eyes boring into the back of your skull. But instincts told you to stay still.

Nothing happened for a long time. You sat, knife in your lap under folded hands, breathing and staring forward. Until, slowly, carefully, a woman rounded the corner, and oddly shaped gun-like weapon at her side.

“State your business.”

You stiffened, forcing yourself to maintain eye contact. “I think you know our business.”

The woman looked at you down her nose, scowling. “I believe that our business has nothing to do with you people,” she said, “we won’t kill you if you leave now.”

You looked at her, not wanting to speak for the team. You knew they wanted to finish the job.

“What will it be, then?” The woman asked.

Gamora jumped up and sent the sword surging down on her within an instant. She blocked it with her gun, the echo of metal on metal signaling the sounds of war to ensue.

You froze for a moment before Peter yanked you up and placed a kiss on your forehead, “don’t scare me like that again. Come on. Stay behind me.”

You sighed, shaking your head, keeping your knife down as you moved out. A rush of adrenaline coursed through your veins.

On the turn, a man jumped out and grabbed Peter, his hands slicing viciously. You jumped forward, grabbed its shoulder and stabbed down with your knife. It tripped backwards, and you wrapped your body around his torso and forced all of your momentum to the side. He fell flat on his stomach, blood pouring from his nose. You gave him a good punch to the head to make sure he was out. You didn’t like killing anybody.

Peter tripped for a second, regaining his stability. He nodded to you, then turned and faced the oncoming crowd of criminals. He clicked his mask on and spun his guns, per usual, and walked on, shooting.

You knelt down, scanning the perimeter for anybody watching. Rocket stormed out of the ship, shooting into the distance. You rolled your eyes and took small, quiet steps around to the other side.

Somebody grabbed your shoulder and whipped you around, cracking your back with a low crunch. You winced, but sent your fist forwards off of your momentum. It crashed into somebody’s face and sent them reeling, but only for half a second. They threw a punch to you, but you jumped backwards, spinning your knife in your hand. You danced around them, turning into a strong hit that sunk the blade into their side.

They cried out, but threw up a knee into your gut. You choked for a second, but caught yourself and pulled your hands back in. A trail of blood fell from their hip. You kicked out their knees and, quickly, as they fell, stomped your heel into their wound and brought your knife down into the other side.

“Matching scars,” you whispered, standing up and sending a forceful kick into the side of their head.

You could see Peter taking cover and shooting. Gamora emerged, sweaty, stained, but overall unharmed. She joined the rest of them, still catching her breath.

This isn’t so bad, you thought, taking a breath, they don’t even know how to fight.

Somebody sent a shot into your thigh. You cried out, collapsing forward onto the person before you. Somebody came from behind you and slammed your head down, holding you by the back of your hair. They lifted you slowly, pulling on your scalp and peeling you off of the ground.

Blood dripped down your pants, pooling at your ankles.

You reached back your good leg in a desperate attempt to break free, crushing the guys knee and sending him down, with you still in hand. You brought your hand up your side in a swing, the knife digging into the mans arm. He wrestled to keep his grasp on you, but you lept up, your thigh screaming in protest. You limped backwards.

You spun as another one reached out for you, this time a woman, and swiped by her face with your knife.

She dodged it, lowering herself and tripping you with her ankle, which was attached to a long, fit leg.

You hit your head, and your knife went flying off to your right, away from you. You rolled over, reaching out for it, but it was way too far out of reach. She jumped up to slam down into your chest, but you rolled backwards and she caught her knuckled on a hard rock and screamed out a curse.

You got to your feet, backing up in the direction of the rest of the fighting, hoping Peter or Gamora or Rocket or Drax would see. Another girl came to her side, one of those guns in her hands. She aimed it towards you, her eyes cold and intent.

You sprinted towards the ship, diving behind a small cover as she shot in your direction. The shot bounced off the ground and burned up a small bush, the heat burning your cheek. You swallowed, backing up slowly.

“Peter,” you said low, looking all around you, “Peter.”

You saw him getting closer, shooting in every which direction. Groot stood on the edge of the ship watching you.

“I am Groot,” he said as you knelt inside of the ships large door.

You nodded, out of breath, “anything left in there? Knives, swords, something that works? Anything?”

He shook his little head, waving to you. You sighed, forcing a smile back at him. You couldn’t just hide away. You had to help them. That was your job, along with the everybody else who were still fighting and yelling.

The woman with the broken knuckles and her friend grew closer, speaking in a language you couldn’t understand in soft voices. You pushed Groot to the side so he wouldn’t be seen. They came closer, still, and you felt panic slip into your thoughts.

You looked around the ship for something, for anything that you could use against a weapon like that. Your thigh dripped blood onto the cold metal with a low, ominous sound.

You had nothing. No choice but to hide, or to just go and hope you didn’t die, but that didn’t seem likely. Neither of them did. Maybe, if you timed it just right, Grabbed one of them, preferably the fire-gun wielding one, and yelled out for help, you’d get away with maybe a broken bone or two, or maybe a burned up arm. They were going to see you no matter what, if you just sat there.

You waited until they were as close to you as possible without them seeing anything. You inched out, behind the small cover that was there, beside the burning bush. You took in a deep breath.

Most of them were retreating over there. They’d probably forget about you and go help, get them from behind-

The one with the gun paused and took aim, and you shot your glance over, right at Peter’s back, bright red.

You shook your head. Now or never.

You jumped over the cover, tackling the gun girl at her torso, the shot going straight up into the trees around everybody. A large branch fell and crushed one of the guys shooting at Rocket with a loud bang.

You wrestled her for a moment, holding the gun parallel between both of your faces. Knuckle girl kicked at your stomach, but you squeezed your core and held on with your thighs, struggling to get the gun. All you needed was the gun.

Knuckle girl tackled the side of you, crying out as she did so, and the both of you rolled until you crashed into another rock, limbs flying and hair tangling.

You got on top of her, held her arms down. Her fingers twisted and bent in very wrong directions, and she tried desperately to keep her lip from quivering. You felt bad.

You looked over just as her friend charged up her gun. You fell back and held up the girl as your shield, and she screamed out, clawing at your face, drawing blood just above and under your eye. She screamed as the shot collided with her back. You let out a gasp of pain as her body slammed back into yours and pinned you against the rock. You had nowhere to go. The other girl was coming towards you.

A man came first and yanked you up. You kicked your feet, but he was too strong compared with the other ones. He held your arms to your back, your shoulders aching and cracking. You cried out.

“Peter!” You yelled as another man came and grabbed your waist, pulling you backwards, “PETER!”

He turned, his eyes focusing on you as they pulled you back. A shot came from the side and just nipped his shoulder, spinning him around. His face contorted into a look of pain, and he reached up his arm and shot four times int he direction of the shot that hit him.

“Peter!” You cried, more men coming and holding you back. Soon you could;t even kick. It was like you were suddenly paralyzed. You couldn’t move anything, it was all too heavy.

Peter reached for you, began to run, shooting the men at the sides and the approaching ones.

“PETER!” You yelled, struggling.

“Y/N!” He shouted. Gamora turned around, her hair bright and spinning like a dress around her neck. Rocket glanced over, eyes wide.

They pulled you backwards into the trees. Peter couldn’t run fast enough. Your breaths sped up. Tears fell over your eyes and stormed down your cheeks. You sobbed, trying to break out desperately.

A shot hit Peter’s arm again, knocking the wind out of him. He fell over slightly, kicked up dirt as he kept his balance and ran for you. It was all very slow.

You tried to keep your calm, and counted again.

One.

Peter cried out for you, aimed the guns forward.

Two.

He pulled the triggers and two beams of light shot past either side of your face, blowing your hair up. It hit at least one person, and you could move only slightly.

Three.

You pulled on your arm and tugged, relentlessly, until you could send an elbow back into the one holding your waist.

Four.

“PETER!” You cried, watching the blood drip from his fingers. He ran to you. As fats as he could.

Five.

They rained their hold on you and dragged you so fats you couldn’t even feel your feet bouncing up against the ground.

Six.

Suddenly there was a ship there. They were bringing you into that.

Seven.

“Peter, Peter!” You cried, your chest heavy and breaths too quick.

Eight.

He ran to you. God, he ran so fast. He shot aimlessly, and you could hear them bouncing off the ships walls.

Nine.

The door started to rise. The last time you heard his voice, he was screaming your name.

Ten.

It was quiet, except for your crying. They finally dropped you to the floor. Peter’s shots hit the ship, but the sound was muffled. The engine rumbled. You propped yourself up and looked around you. It was dark, and they were watching you.

“Peter...” you whispered.

Peter ran, watching as the ship began to lift. He thought he could still hear you screaming. He shot up there. Over and over again, until he was tackled down.

He slammed the butt of his gun into the guys head and knocked him out almost as quickly as they had fallen.

“Y/n!” He yelled, voice cracking under the strain of his loss.

He stared upwards, tears staining his cheeks. He didn’t even notice the blood covering him.

He turned and sprinted back to the milano, yelling for Gamora and Rocket to come on.

In his rush, he accidentally kicked Groot to the side, and he yelled out in his small squeaky voice, “I am Groot!”

He started up the ship and closed the door so fast it knocked down Rocket and Drax as he ran in.

They were up, and just barely in the distance he could see the ship you were on. He went as fast as he could, so fast, the ship cried and groaned and whirred.

Once they were out of the atmosphere, you were gone.

“No,” Peter struggled, slamming his hands into the console, “no, no, no, no, NO!”

“Peter,” Gamora tried, sadly.

“NO!” He screamed, knocking over his tapes with a heavy fist. He collapsed and held his head in his hands. And entire universe for you to disappear to. How would he ever find you?

Drax caught his breath where he sat on the floor. “We will find her, Peter.”

Peter ignored him, and he cried. The last thing he remembers hearing your voice say was his name, screaming it, crying it, begging for him to help you.

He sat up and moved forward. And began his new mission, more determined than ever.

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