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tropes-and-tales · 7 months

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Too Much for You

Day 3: Collaring (Bob Floyd x F!Reader)

(For the 2023 Kinktober event that I created on my own because I am boring and basic and am trying to keep it simple this year...found here!)

CW: Smut (Oral, m!receiving; oblique talk of other sex acts; oblique talk of power dynamics in the bedroom); 18+ only.

Word Count: 2865

AN: This was requested by the lovely @callsign-frostbite!

The Hard Deck is often segregated by cliques, like a high school lunch room: the fighter pilots post up by the pool tables and piano, the fixed wing aircraft pilots claim the stretch of the bar with the dart boards and juke box. The bar proper is the neutral zone, but the two groups rarely mix.

Bob Floyd falls in with the fighter pilots because he’s the back-seater for one, but he feels like he might fit in better with the darts-and-jukebox crowd. They are more sedate, seem more confident in themselves. There’s less of a nightly dick-measuring contest.

It doesn’t hurt that you’re part of the darts-and-jukebox crowd: the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, poured into your uniform so it fits like a glove. You move with that same quiet assurance as your fellow fixed wing pilots, but you’re like a bright point of light, always pulling Bob’s gaze to you. You’re fascinating to watch: when you’re playing darts, when you’re leaning over the jukebox, when you’re dancing a smooth two-step to the songs you pick.

Hangman is the one who first notices Bob’s puppy-dog staring, follows the WSO’s blue-eyed gaze across the Hard Deck where you and the other pilots drink and converse. Hangman nudges Nat, who whispers in Rooster’s ear, who beckons Javi over, and within minutes, the whole crew is watching Bob watching you.

Hangman is the one who first tells Bob not to bother.

“She’s not the one for you, Baby on Board,” he tells Bob while he clasps his shoulder, jostles him a little in his seat. “You need a shy gal. A homebody who will greet you at the door with fresh-baked cookies. A Betty Crocker-type.”

Nat scoffs, shakes her head. “You make him sound like a complete square.”

“Well…” Hangman trails off, shrugs with a wide smile. “I mean…”

“He’s not a complete square, Bagman.” Nat crosses her arms, and she squares up to her fellow fighter pilot. “And anyway, what’s wrong with her? She’s cute.” She tilts her head in your direction.

It’s Javi who has the dirt on you, which sounds like so much of the usual Navy outlandish gossip. He leans in close and tells Bob all about you.

“Her call-sign is Nix,” he says, and he keeps his voice low, as if you might hear over the din of the crowd. “Because she flies one of those Poseidon recon planes. But she’s a complete freak, man. I served on a carrier with a guy whose roommate’s brother dated her. She’s totally into that freaky bedroom shit. She’d eat you alive.”

Bob swallows hard, but he can’t help the flush that breaks out across his cheeks…or the faint throb of lust that drums along with his heartbeat.

“What do you mean, freaky stuff?” It’s Nat who asks the question; his pilot turns and watches you with frank interest now.

Javi shrugs, takes a sip of his beer. “BDSM stuff.” He looks at Bob, gives him another shrug. “Sorry, man. She’s too much for you.”

-----

After the fact, Bob bristles at his teammates’ collective verdict.

Bristling leads to simmering, which leads to outright resentment. The days pass, and Bob teems with indignation. How dare Bagman? How dare Javi? How dare any of them make assumptions about him? Sure, he’s quiet and unassuming and a back-seater, but it grates on his nerves how they act like they know him that well.

They don’t know him at all.

Even their dumb nickname for him: Baby on Board. They forget that he passed the same rigorous training they did, that he graduated from Top Gun just as they did. He’s a goddamned grown man, and they treat him like a boy.

The two cliques at the Hard Deck rarely mix, but halfway through a Friday night, Bob taps into his latent courage—the courage his teammates fail to recognize—and marches over to where you stand by the jukebox. He can hear Hangman behind him, trying to urge him back before it’s too late, but you catch sight of Bob’s approach out of your peripherals and turn to watch him. You neither frown nor smile; your expression is exactly neutral. Bob digs deeper into his hidden reserve of courage, and he holds out a hand.

“I’m Lieutenant Bob Floyd,” he says, and he hopes his teammates can see how he doesn’t stutter, how he meets your gaze levelly because he’s a goddamned man and not a boy. “I heard you fly the new P-8 Poseidon.”

“I do.” You hold your hand out to shake his, and you gift him a smile that seems guarded. “Though it’s a few years old now.”

“Still new by military standards.”

Your smile relaxes, and you drop your hand. “Very true. Are you a pilot?”

Bob shakes his head, tells you he’s a weapons specialist officer, and the conversation flows naturally to your respective aircrafts, the systems on each, and if Bob admired you from afar, he likes the obvious love you have for your airplane even more.

He spends the rest of the night with you, and the hours fly by like nothing. He leaves with your number, and the feeling is better than even the confused look on Bagman’s smug face—that quiet, unassuming Bob Floyd pulled the number of an unattainable fellow pilot.

-----

If you’re into freaky bedroom stuff, it doesn’t make an appearance right away. You and Bob take your time—it doesn’t help that you’re both active duty. There’s a stretch of time, just as your burgeoning relationship is on its shaky new legs, where you’re both deployed on separate missions.

Bob thinks it’ll be the end of the thing between you, but somehow strengthens your relationship. Absence making the heart grow fonder, all that cliched stuff. When you’re finally both back stateside, you make it official: Bob Floyd the WSO and you, the pilot who flies surveillance missions—an official couple.

Your first month as a couple, it’s that awkward period where you’re just figuring each other out in the bedroom. It’s clumsy at first but passionate, the two of you abandoning any pretense of coolness for the ardor that you have for each other.

Bob loves all of it: the time he spends between your thighs, coaxing orgasms from you with his mouth. The time you spend on your knees doing the same for him. All of the varied positions, you riding him, him riding you. The quickies and the love-making where you spend entire hours reveling in each other’s bodies.

BDSM stuff, Javi had said. Bob only has an inkling what that may mean. He imagines whips and chains, a gimp mask, tears of pain. He is open to nearly anything you might want to do, but the idea of pain in the bedroom makes him wary. He doesn’t want to hurt you, even consensually. If it is something you demand, he might have to end things.

The thought tortures him. Each day, he falls more in love with you. Each night, he is slow to fall asleep at the unspoken fear that you may be too much for him and the inverse: that he may not be enough for you.

Bob should have remembered that the Navy is little more than a hive of gossipers. People tell tales, and truth get twisted in the retelling.

Javi and his buddy’s roommate’s brother. Your alleged ex. It was a ridiculous game of telephone. The topic kinda comes up organically over dinner one night, talk about exes, and it leads to Bob blurting out his fears. That he’s not adventuresome enough for you. That when you inevitably ask him to tie you up and whip you, he won’t be able to satisfy you.

The look on your face is priceless. You gaze over your plate at him and ask, “huh?”

He can’t turn back now. He swallows hard, his mouth suddenly dry. “BDSM stuff,” he clarifies. “I don’t…I don’t think I’m into that.”

“Bobby—”

“But I’ll try.” He cuts you off, and he feels sick to his stomach to have brought his silent fears to light with so little finesse. “I’ll try, sweetheart.”

You set your fork down with a quiet clink, and you reach across the table and take his hand. When he chances a look at your face, you don’t seem angry or disappointed. Instead, you smile at him softly.

“You can’t believe everything you hear,” you tell him.

-----

Javi and the gossipmongers in the Navy are half-right: you are not into BDSM.

You are into playing with power dynamics.

Bob gets an education in an entire spectrum of sexuality he’s never even considered before. He’d be ashamed—embarrassed, maybe, as he usually is when it came to frank discussions about sex—but you’re an amazing teacher and, well….he finds that perhaps he’s into playing with power dynamics too.

And you’re both switches. You’re both capable of being dominant or submissive. The possibilities are endless. Bob’s mind boggles at the surfeit of scenes the two of you could play out, and it boggles further to find that those scenes make him fall more and more in love with you. It always felt hokey, talk of how sex was a way to build a connection. Bob never had it before, but now?

Now he has it.

-----

The day goes poorly for Bob: Hangman continues to live up to his nickname, and his rivalry with Rooster spills over to the rest of the TOPGUN pilots. Bob and Nat get paired up with Jake during a dog-fight exercise, and they lose over and over because the man is incapable of teamwork.

Bob can’t control Jake.

Bob can’t even control the plane. He has to cede control to Nat, and he’s usually fine with it, but he feels extra helpless as a back-seater during exercises like this.

But Bob, if he asks nicely, can control you—so when he gets home, frustrated and irritable, he asks if he can be in charge.

You gaze at him a long moment, and your eyes get steadily darker as your pupils dilate.

“Of course,” you tell him.

-----

Bob in charge: he makes you change into the sweet powder-pink lingerie he bought you. A casual cotton dress. He has a housewife kink, he’s found, and he likes to play around with the dynamic of pretending you’re waiting at home for him.

Lingerie, dress. He also helps you put on the collar, a deceptively simple silver band of metal. Not too tight. There’s a little hook at the end for a leash, but neither you nor Bob ever use it. The collar is just a visual reminder of who is in charge, and who is being led.

Bob in charge: he orders you onto all fours. He sits on the couch, freshly showered after his shitty day. He leans back, splays his legs wide. He crooks his forefinger at you.

“Come here, kitten,” he says.

It’s as simple as this. He gives you an order and you obey. He’s in charge; he tells you to crawl to him on hands and knees and you do. You kneel in front of him, your hands on your thighs, your eyes fixed to his face in an expression of adoration. You wait for his next order.

There’s no frustration like with Hangman. There’s no fickle controls like in the back seat of his and Nat’s plane. There’s no dog-fight practice where they lose Maverick in the sun, where they have to do hundreds of push-ups on the tarmac until Bob’s arms burn and his cold fury simmers.

“What do you want?” he asks.

“I want to make you feel good, sir,” you answer, and your voice has a deference it normally doesn’t. Bob feels the tension of his day bleed away bit by bit, then all at once.

Bob in charge: he orders you to put your mouth to him. He’s already half-hard, but he loves the feeling of your warm mouth on him, coaxing him to full life with your worshipful tongue laving him, suckling against his sensitive tip until he’s hard as iron and throbbing in your mouth.

He lays a hand on the back of your head, another tame display of dominance, but he doesn’t force you. He shifts it to cup the side of your face as you take him to the root, your nose pressed against the sparse, coarse curls at the base of his cock. Keeps his hand there as you bob your head, as you take deep breaths through your nose.

You’re reverent when you’re submissive. You always take your time. You cup his balls lightly in one hand, and when you feel them start to draw up—a sure sign his orgasm is approaching—you back off a bit. You release him from the warm confines of your mouth and draw the tip of your tongue over the prominent vein that runs along the underside of his cock. You lick the tip of him, suckle there again until he’s breathing harsh, punched-out breaths. Then you engulf him again, hollow your cheeks and actually hum against him, and the tip of him bumps against the back of your throat until your eyes water.

A lone tear breaks free when you blink, and Bob shifts his hand, brushes it away. He taps you on your chin lightly.

“Eyes on me, kitten,” he orders you, and a moment later, you look up at him.

You look beautifully wrecked: eyes wet and liquid as you gaze at him, your eye makeup streaked and ruined. Your lovely mouth stretched wide around his cock.

“You look pretty as a damned picture,” he tells you, and it’s true. He holds you in this position for a beat, wants to commit the image to memory. He wants to carry this moment with him for future frustrating days—when TOPGUN is grueling, he wants to remember that he has this to come home to.

Not just a gorgeous woman on her knees with her lips wrapped around him, either. You’re that, of course, but you’re more. You’re also the woman who orders him around, who calls him a “good boy,” who cups his face the way he’s cupping yours right now. You’re also the woman who ties him to the bed and teases him relentlessly. You’re also the woman who spends long, lazy Sunday mornings with him, making love in a languid, sleepy way that feels like heaven.

You’re also the woman who flies a spy plane, a lieutenant in your own right, a no-nonsense aviator who commands respect with your quiet competency in a field full of blowhards and jackasses.

Bob releases his hold on your face. He slips his hand down to your throat, and he hooks his forefinger around the metal collar, now warmed from being against your skin.

He tugs it gently. “I’m close,” he warns you. “You gonna take everything I give you? Swallow it down, kitten?”

You pull your mouth away long enough to answer. “Yes, sir,” you tell him, and you sound just as wrecked as he does. He knows what this game does to you. He knows your powder-pink panties are slick with your own arousal, your pretty little pussy likely twitching and clenching around nothing, waiting for him.

He nods, and you bend your head to him again. Your mouth is wonderfully warm, surrounding him, and you pick up your pace. Your hand on his balls squeezes him gently, and he feels his orgasm—delayed several times now—thundering towards him. His hips judder upward, involuntary, chasing the feel of your wet, sucking mouth, and you gag lightly against the action but you never stop.

You never stop once he’s given you an order.

A moment later, the heavy tension in his belly snaps, turns to light and heat that crackles along his spine to the base of his skull, crackles down to where his balls pull up taut in your hand as he comes. He groans out your name, swears as he pulses in your mouth, and each throb of his cock is answered by you swallowing against him, the slim column of your throat working to take everything he gives you.

And you clean him up at his order too, your tongue shyly running over his softening cock, and then your hand tucking him back into his sweatpants before your eyes find his face.

“Thank you,” he tells you. He hooks his finger under your collar again, gently leads you from the floor and onto his lap, and he wraps his arms around you. He presses his head into the side of your neck and sighs out the lingering bit of his frustration from the day, but he’s completely relaxed now. Once he’s recovered, he’ll repay you, but for now, he wants to bask in his post-orgasm glow with you on his lap and in his arms.

And he thinks back to Javi’s words, all those months ago. She’s too much for you, he’d said. Which turned out to be completely untrue: you’re just enough for him. You’re perfect for him.

#bob floyd #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd x reader #robert floyd imagine #robert floyd x reader #robert floyd #top gun maverick #kinktober 2023 #tropes and tales

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simpingcowboy · 1 year

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Needs

Pairing: Din Djarin x M!Reader (no gendered language)

Word Count: 600+

Warnings: SMUT, oral sex (m receiving), mentions of gagging, just generally sloppy oral sex

Summary: Din sucking dick. That's the drabble.

A/N: I'm headcanoning Din as having an oral fixation. Goodnight <3

Before you could even register what he was doing, Mando had already plopped down on his knees before you. Din's hands running over your hips as he desperately pulls your bottoms down.

"Din you don't have to-"

"I want to." He says stiffly. His warm ungloved hands making contact with your thighs as he admires the sight in front of him. You were already straining against your underwear. The mere sight of the fully armorered Mandalorian on his knees before you was making you much harder than you care to admit.

The truth was Din looked perfect like this. His armor made him look strong and powerful. Then still was his exposed face, sweet soft brown eyes, cute curls draping over his forehead. His hands too, strong and capable but years working under the guard of his gloves left them feeling soft. This was the way you saw the Mandalorian, for the faceted mess of contradictions and duality he was. Having all of him below you was an overwhelming sight.

Finally, Din slips his fingertips into the top of your underwear and pulls down, freeing your cock. It bobbed slightly, earning you a groan from your Mandalorian. He looks up at you hesitantly. His eyes meticulously scanning over the length of your cock. You speak up, wanting to give him an out

"You really don't-" before you can get the words out Din's tongue flicks the top, lapping up a bead of precum into his mouth. You couldn't stop the moan that escapes your lips if you tried.

Din closes his eyes and lets the taste of you linger on his tongue. A visible shiver runs down his body. He was so eager to have you, but denying himself for his own masiconistic pleasure. His wide brown eyes reconnect with yours. They're blown out and filled with anticipation. A tinge of red spreads over his cheeks as a terrible idea overcomes him.

"Fuck my mouth...please" He begs, his mouth open wide, offering himself to you, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Din, are you sure?" You hesitantly stroke his head, feeling over his curls. Your body growing desperate. As much as you wanted him, this was new territory for both of you.

All your concerns are forgotten when Din slides the tip of your cock into his mouth, urging you on. He sloppily licks up the slit, a mix of precum and saliva already making a mess of his pouty lips.

"Fuck-" you moan. Finally giving into your desires, you firmly grip the back of his head. You were gonna enjoy this.

Your hand on the back of his head keeps him steady, letting your hips fuck into his mouth forcing him to take the rest of you. A muffled gag coming from your mandalorian as you fill his mouth with yourself. Looking down, he looks so sweet with your cock in his mouth. His jaw spread open for you. Dribbles of saliva already escaping from the edges of his mouth. Long strings of lovely sounds come up from him. A repeated rhythm of choking, moaning, and wet sounds fill the crest as you fuck yourself as deep as you can down his throat. Din looks up at you with those warm brown puppy dog eyes, urging you to go harder, faster, rougher.

"That's it Sweet Boy. Take it. You're being so- so good for me."

Both your hands now find their way to his head. Your grip tightly pulls on his curls, already tousled. Now maneuvering his mouth to slide up and down your cock as you continue fucking his face. You bring him all the way down to the base, that pretty arched nose bumping against your skin.

Din finds reprieve in this. He loves when you use him, literally forcing him open, filling him with yourself. It's his own kind of worship. Filling his brain and body with nothing but you.

He needs this from you.

And you always give Din everything he needs.

#Am writes #din djarin x reader #din djarin x M!reader #din djarin x male reader #din djarin smut #din djarin fanfic #din djarin fanfiction #the Mandalorian smut

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thewriterowl · 1 year

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Headcanon that the Force amplifies Luke's already present "Desert Boy Feral Cat" behavior to an insane levels. And Din? Just shrugs and is like "cool this is my life now" because his tolerance for weird bullshit is unmatched.

Someone gets bitten because they tried to take away Luke's plate that looks basically done? There's clearly still some meat left on those frog bones, they got what was coming to them.

Luke gets startled and Force-sticks himself to the ceiling? He's just being vigilant and Din is very proud of his riduur's sharp instincts.

Luke chases the laser scope Din is using as a laser pointer for him for an hour? Good training, and bright lights *are* pretty cool.

Bo and Paz: You married a big, insane cat.

Din: *watching Luke teach Grogu how to hunt frogs with the Force and their teeth* Yeah, but he's also very soft, and he purrs when I scratch him behind the ears.

Din is just so in love.

"Djarin, your...Jedi-thing growled at me."

"Well, did you try to pet him without permission?"

"I...guess?"

"Then you deserve it." And then goes back to reading his tablet over galaxy news and sips his caf.

Din unable to find his Luke, searching a bit, before he's all, "ah" he comes over and leans down, belly on the ground, to see his Luke's eyes glowing eyes from the shadows of under their bed. "Baby, you want breakfast?"

"Mrrrrrmmmm."

"You need to eat a few bites."

"Hiiissssss"

"I got you blue milk."

"Oh! Ok, Din!"

"Mand'alor, why are you late to this meeting?"

"My husband finally slept in for once in his life and he was on top of me."

"ok...but why are you late?

"Because my husband was asleep, curled up on my chest?"

"But why doe that make you late?"

"....because my husband was curled up asleep on top of me."

"Why didn't you just...move him?"

"...."

"M-Mand'alor?"

"Someone arrest him."

#owl inbox #dinluke

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wannab-urs · 10 months

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The Spreadsheet Digest - Fic Recs | Vol. 9

Hi friends!! This week I read several series that had like... a lot of parts... including ones I've previously recced but just now finished (Looking at you Lie To Me by @iamskyereads). I also went to Pride and basically read nothing from Saturday to Monday. That being said, I'm pretty proud of the amount of fics I was able to scrounge up for y'all this week, and I think we have a pretty good selection.

The Spreadsheet can be found here and you're always welcome to tag me in a fic or send it to my askbox if you want me to read it (I'll read any Pedro boy!).

Recs below the Pedro:

Puppet - an Ezra one shot by @jksprincess10

I love these fics that are like "What if we went to extreme lengths to shut Ezra the fuck up," and I especially love how this one ends. Also the side effect bit made me giggle. You're a genius, Nad <3

Hot and Heavy - a Joel series by @tieronecrush

I think I established recently that I'm a sucker for the nanny trope. We also know I love angst. So here we have one of those time bomb relationships where we know it's gonna end, not once, but twice. Excellent angst/tention building. Then we also have super fucking sexy delicious smut, Joel being a fucking adorable father, reader being like actually awesome... and I lowkey think readers mom is on it but that's just me. OH and "Mariposa" are you KIDDING ME?! perfect.

Run to You - a Marcus Pike series by @foli-vora

Talk about angst... and it's fucking PERFECT. The little flashback scenes and then the sharp cut to such a painful present situation UGH. The world building is excellent. The characterization is so fucking good bc of COURSE Marcus would fall in love on an op of fucking course he would. Marcus "Marry Me" Pike over here. Fucking idiot. I love him. I can't wait to see how this story progresses. It is so. fucking. good.

Pretend Alleyways - a Dieter/Marcus Moreno series by @radiowallet

Would I ever have thought about pairing up Marcus Moreno and Dieter Bravo? No. Am I eternally grateful someone put my two softboys together? YES. They are so perfect together. So sweet and precious. They need each other fr. This made me all warm and fuzzy inside and also horny obviously.

Like Water in Your Hands - a Joel one shot by @beskarandblasters (Part of the Punisher anthology)

I. Love. This. So. Fucking. Much. Top tier. The smut? The plot? The characterization? Queen shit.

Don't Be Scared - a Din one shot by @beskarandblasters

Din being scared/nervous omg. So cute and sexy. I love him so much UGH. Looking forward to the Din revival fr

the lakes - a Joel one shot by @tieronecrush (Part of the folklore anthology)

This is literally one of my greatest non-smutty fantasies with Joel. Just telling him how much he means to me and promising to be there for him and convincing him to let himself be happy and comfortable. I wanna hug that man so bad AGH. This was beautiful Sam <3

Summer Lovin' - a Joel one shot by @atinylittlepain

I don't know why I've been reading so much asshole!Joel lately.... but I'm loving it. I love all the little details in this. I was genuinely pissed the fuck off at Joel. I have more sympathy for the ice cream than that fucking idiot. Sarah, his ex, and reader all deserve so much better than that dipshit UGH

Unusual Situation - a Din/Ezra one shot by @absurdthirst

Not only am I back on my Din/Reader/Ezra bullshit AND my M/M/F bullshit in general, but this is the fic that caused it. These two space idiots were meant to be together, I am 100% certain. The way Ezra manages to gently reassure Din that reader wants him while they're both balls deep in various holes....??? How do you do it. How do you make something tender and sweet while also being complete and utter filth. I am fascinated.

Of Gorgons and Gardens - a Din/Ezra series by @concussed-to-pieces

Following the absurdthirst story, I found this one.... and boy howdy. I am a SLUT for sex pollen fics, so obviously that was excellent. I also love how it was like "oh the plant makes men want to fuck women" but hinted that neither of them would be particularly upset about fucking each other either. Mando was like... i don't give a fuck, dude. And then it went from absurdly smutty (but also kinda sweet) in part one, to just like tender and sweet in part two. Like yeah yeah horrible harrowing near death experience yada yada... the STUBBLE SCENE??? The PAIN KINK?? the TOUCHING?? I just about died. And then in part three we get my top all time kink PLUS Din and Ezra and Reader just being so sweet it hurts a little. I am feral for these boys UGH. AND AND the nickname being bird in mando'a was so clever??

Late July - a Jack (Whiskey) series by @concussed-to-pieces

So I read the Din/Ezra thing and obviously had to peruse the masterlist. I love my dear appalachian cowboy. I really really liked the whole premise of this story and the follow ups. The smut is fucking masterful but also like hello, plot??? Truly incredible. I really liked seeing frat-boy Jack and also seeing him work through his trauma and shit. But also Jack tied to a chair need I say more?

Defanged - a Din one shot by @concussed-to-pieces

Alright so this one is the same sex pollen from OGaG but it doesn't hurt which is super dope. Hey Alexa play "In Love with a Stripper" but it's Din in love with a sex worker just bc he put his dick in her. I fuckin love this.

hunt and peck - a Javi P one shot by @toxicanonymity

You really said lets take this slut and make him even hornier and I LOVE IT.

----------oldies but goodies-----------

soft!dom joel - a Joel a series by @joelscruff

Letterman Jacket - a Javi P series by @fuckyeahdindjarin

I want you to stay - a Dieter one shot by @ezrasbirdie

Below the Line - a Dieter series by @prolix-yuy

Midnight Rider a Jack (Whiskey) one shot by jazzelsaur (ao3)

Rare - a Joel a one shot by @swiftispunk

One Hundred and Fifty Seven - a Din one shot by @theidiotwhowritesthings

Heatwaves - a Javi P two shot by @mishasminion360

In the Dark - an Ezra series by @frannyzooey (favorite ez ever maybe)

Lover of mine - a Dieter one shot by @psychedelic-ink

Morning - a Dieter series by @write-and-buried

--------------my recents-------------

In the next one - based on Lucy Dacus' (boygenius) song We're in Love and a standalone addition to my loose fit Dieter series A Ghost of You - focuses on Dieter's belief that he's been with you in every single past life and lost you in each of them + him coming to terms with his belief that he'll lose you in this one too.

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

Happy Reading

#the spreadsheet digest #vol 9 #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro fics #pedro pascal character fanfiction #fic recs #joel miller fics #ezra (prospect) fics #din djarin fics #marcus moreno fics #Jack Daniels fics #Mandalorian fics #Agent Whiskey fics #marcus pike fics

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flightlessangelwings · 10 months

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Thank you so much to those who participated in 2023’s Pride Challenge and to those who helped spread the word and showed love and support to those who participated!!! Here is the Masterlist of everything I was tagged in throughout the month! If I missed yours please let me know so I can add you and reblog your post too!!

Prompt post

❤️🧡💛💚💙🩷🩵💜

🌈 Care to Join? By @pimosworld

Layla el Faouly x f!reader x Steven Grant x Marc Spector x Jake Lockley, Prompt “Can I kiss you?”

🌈 You’re a bit too loud by @corporalicent

alicent hightower x rhaenyra targaryen, Prompts “We’re dead if we get caught but fuck it.” & “You look so beautiful right now and all I want to do is fuck you senseless.”

🌈 The Knight and her lady by @saradika

knight!fennec shand x princess!reader, Prompts “Can I kiss you” and fairylate au

🌈 Feeling you can’t fight . Chapter 2 by @melodygatesauthor

Moon Boys x m!reader

🌈 Pride on Nevarro by @simpingcowboy

Trans!Din x GN!Reader, Prompts “Do you trust me?" "Hold my hand tight. I'll protect you." and a photo prompt

🌈 Peter’s second chance romance by @morriganwarrior

Peter Parker x m!oc, prompts Can I kiss you, I think I'm in love with you, You did all this for me

🌈 His Hers and His, A Messy Pile of Affection story by @flightlessangelwings

Frankie Morales x fem!reader x Benny Miller, Prompts “What do you think of my last name with your first name?” and the rainbow photo in the moodbard

#fawpride2023 #layla el faouly x reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #moon knight x reader #fennec shand x reader #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #frankie morales x reader #benny miller x reader

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pccyouthleader · 11 months

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Hedgehog Hodgepodge: A Story of Espionage, Confusion, and an Evil Plan Gone Haywire

Chapter 2: A Close Call

Shadow reached Aurora’s house in less than a minute. Stepping off the path, he leaned against a tree to await her arrival. But as the minutes ticked away, he became restless.

What’s taking her so long? he wondered.

When she finally came into view, he noticed that she was trudging along slowly. He continued to watch as she stopped and started digging around in her bag. Aurora pulled out her communicator and started reading something as she began walking again.

Suddenly, he saw a group of kids appear on the path behind her. Riding bicycles, skateboards, and scooters, they came flying towards her at a rapid speed. Must be some of the kids headed to the Young Heroes program, Shadow thought. Surely they see her! Two of the older boys were in competition. They raced at breakneck speed, egging each other on and not watching their surroundings. As they sped closer and closer to Aurora, Shadow realized that no one was paying attention, and she was about to be plowed over if he didn’t do something.

“AURORA!” he boomed, kicking on his air shoes and racing towards her. She stopped and looked up from her device.

“Shadow?”

He doubled his speed and swooped her off the path right as the boys reached where she had been standing. She let out a loud “OOF!” as Shadow’s body collided with hers and propelled her off the road. The contents of her bag went everywhere, and both boys wiped out in the nearby bushes. Shadow set her down gently before rounding on the two youth.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?! You could have seriously injured her! Or worse!” He continued to berate them until Aurora had gathered her senses and stood up.

“Shadow, it’s okay,” she said gently, placing her hand on his arm. She moved to where the boys had fallen, picking up a small first aid kit that had flown out of her bag.

Shadow took in the scene, and realized that it was the boys who were injured. Serves them right, he thought coldly. One of his greatest fears was something happening to Aurora. She was carefully checking the two - a young bear and leopard from the village - when the other kids in the bunch finally caught up.

“Wow, M-Mister!” cried a young chimpanzee. “That was awesome!” The other boys joined in with murmurs of awe and a million questions. The girls grouped together and giggled, admiring the handsome black-and-red hedgehog.

As the din of voices grew louder and louder, Aurora stood and addressed the kids. “Guys, this is Mr. Shadow. He’s a very good, um, friend of mine,” she said, blushing. The kids started their barrage of questions and comments again. Seeing that Shadow was becoming overwhelmed, she held up her hand. “We can talk about it later,” she laughed. “All of you best hurry up and get to YH before you’re late. You know how Mr. Knuckles would feel about that.” Nodding in agreement, the youth started off down the path again.

Aurora watched until the last kid was out of sight, then she attacked him. She threw her arms around Shadow’s neck and buried her muzzle into his chest. Breathing in his scent was enough to calm her shaken nerves after nearly being pancaked on the road.

Taken off guard, he placed both hands on her face and pulled her to him, kissing her aggressively. Heat tingled through Aurora, and she kissed him back. She could feel the deep need and longing he had for her. After a few moments she pulled away, fearing that if she didn’t, there would be no stopping him from taking her completely.

“Oh, Shadow, I missed you so much,” she said, once again burying her face in his chest. He tightened his arms around her and attempted to reign in his desire.

“I missed you, too,” he mumbled, his deep voice rough after the aggressive kiss. “We’d better gather your things before one of those terrible drivers from the village runs them over.”

Aurora laughed. “You’re right,” she said, moving to pick up her bag. Shadow helped her pick up the contents that had been strewn about - the first aid kit, a bottle of medicine, and various papers. “What is all this?” he asked. She turned to him and he realized just how tired she looked. “Light, what’s going on?”

Aurora sighed. “My mom’s been sick - like really sick - for the past few days. We don’t know what it is, but she has a doctor’s appointment later today. Dad’s a nervous wreck, as you can imagine, so he’s asked me to run all her errands.”

“Errands?” Shadow asked, confused.

“Yeah, I’ve been taking work in for her and delivering files as needed,” Aurora continued. “She’s been feeling better in the evenings and has been trying to catch up. I’ve been getting up early to turn everything in before I head to YH.”

Shadow didn’t care for many people, but Amy Rose was an exception. She was kind and caring, and the only hedgehog who could have tamed his “frenemy” Sonic. Amy was usually the picture of health, and he wondered what could have gotten her down like this.

“I was headed back to the house to take her this medicine before work. Wanna come by?” Aurora took his hand and they began walking. “Wait a minute!” she said. “Where’s my communicator?” They looked around until she noticed it laying by a tree just off the road. “Oh no!” Running over, she saw that her device had been smashed against the tree when Shadow had saved her from being run over.

“I’m sorry,” he said, seeing her sad expression.

“It’s okay,” she said reassuringly. “It’s about time for a new one anyway.” Aurora gathered the pieces of her device and placed them in her bag.

Taking Shadow’s hand once again, she set off for her home

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic fanfiction #shadora #sonamy #shadow the hedgehog #sonicboom #aurora belongs to e vay #Hedgehog Hodgepodge

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ramayantika · 1 year

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So in my old school in kolkata, there was a girl. Let's call her Indu. So when I joined this school, the class teacher had told the class about me and my brother because we were the first and the only twins to join the class. Naturally, all the girls said hi and talked to me and told me about the class and the students.

Indu was dark skinned, wore specs and sometimes combed her hair in very unique hairstyles that made one question: How on earth do you do that and come to school.

But anyway Indu befriended me, gave my school notes just like the others too and helped me out for the first week of school.

Cut to grade nine and ten. Now we all were fair skinned girls. Half of them were think and had good figures too which made them attractive and boys had no problem talking to us. And colourism is still deeply rooted in us that the guys made fun of Indu and the girls just rolled their eyes or avoided her path. Indu would get annoyed easily and she had her own family problema tok which she had solely shared with me and I understood why sometimes she used to have angry outbursts. Like imagine a 14 year old with whom nobody wants to be friends because they are dark in colour and don't look nice and pretty plus the classmates openly boycott you too. So sometimes she used to answer back in anger, but she never did that with me or my brother.

In the tenth grade, I don't know why the boys started this trend of calling her 'cancer'. Each morning she would enter the class, they announced, "cancer is coming. Bey cancer aarhi hai jaldi chal" And by chance if any boy saw her before coming to class they would groan and say that aaj din kharab jayega. They would also gag and make sounds when she raised her hand to give an answer to a question.

Now the girls wouldn't engage in that openly, but they would sideline her or just smile in front of her for two minutes and walk away. I remember one time she was sitting beside me, and in front of me the girls were signalling me to leave her and sit with them. Each time I talked to her, they would joke, "indu toh is your best friend now, isn't it?"

My close guy friend too called her Cancer and onetime my brother stood up and asked him what has she done too you so bad that you need to call her cancer. He said, she deserves it because she is rude everytime.

I was silent. I couldn't take any stand for her even though she had helped me out because I didn't want to lose my friendship with others. During picnic and children's day parties, we all would est together and joke while she went alone to the food counter and got her food. Some girls out of pity called her just to be 'nice' to her but behind her they made fun of her sparkly stone pink dress.

There was a dance competition I was supposed to take part in, but I couldn't. She was performing on ghoomar and had dressed exactly like rani padmavati. People in class were whispering all sorts of things yet she walked with her head held high. I could never tell her that she really good in that lehenga.

Anyway she was among the best students in our class too. Now that I live in isolation with no friends, though my situation is still far better than what she had to face because I have never been mistreated, I feel bad that I couldn't do a single thing for her. If I were in her place I would dread coming to school knowing that people see you as a curse each morning. For me, all my friends have gone ahead and found their friends and stuff in uni and I feel that I am good for nothing and I am bad at everything. Thinking about her makes me think that what strength she must have had back then to still come to school and perform well in class.

Anyway she got her good friends in 11th and 12th. She had changed her school I think it was Mahadevi Birla girls in kolkata and now she is here in Kiit bhubaneshwar. I am sure that she is really going to be a very strong individual in life and I really hope that she becomes so successfull so all those people in class who made fun of her literally go silent.

The other girls I remember they would sing those songs which mean everyone is beautiful, scars, colour weight doesn't matter, yet they treated her this way, and I am no good too because knowing it to be wrong I could never call them out.

They post stuff like inner beauty and stuff but do we really believe that? Do they really believe that?

#samridhi speaks #oh and some of those boys were themselves dark skineed yet made fun of her

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burnwater13 · 10 months

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Grogu understood that some words explained themselves. Told on themselves. They were words that you didn’t use everyday, but if you used them, well, boy howdy, would you get people’s attention and if you were Grogu, you’d probably get some scolding after using any one of them. So why did Din Djarin get to say ‘Dank farrick’ and no one cared? Huh?

It didn’t seem fair to Grogu. Not fair at all.

First, it’s important to note, Grogu doesn’t use that word every single day. Contrary to what Peli Motto said after watching for a week when his dad, the Mandalorian, was off doing something with Daimyo Fett and Administrator Shand. Grogu may have grumbled, ‘Womp rats’ more than once, but not the big DF. Nope. Not him.

Second, it is also important to note that same Mandalorian dad, Din Djarin, used Dank Farrick as if it were some how going out of style and he needed to use it before it lost all of its magic. For example, spills caf on the floor of the cabin - ‘Dank Farrick’. Misplaces his last can of armor polish - ‘Dank Farrick’. Finds Grogu’s muddy foot prints all over his armor when he wakes up after a long hard day of doing nothing but whittling, ‘Dank Farrik’. Honestly, you’d think he’d be happy he had something to do, but that had just turned into not finding that last can of armor polish.

Finally, Grogu had an excellent reason to express his frustration when his plan didn’t work out. That is what expletives and other similar words were for, as you know. To express high emotion in a manner that is accessible to almost anyone. Grogu had felt more than a little entitled to use that expression on that day.

The day had started out nice enough. Frogs and broth for breakfast. Running around the pond playing catch the butterfly. Taking a nap under the scrub tree. Having lunch with his dad at the table that was still covered with all the art drawings he’d completed the night before. A typical day with Din Djarin and Din Grogu. Right?

Well, that’s how it started. But just have lunch, Marshal IG-11-M (the dash M signifies Marshal, because of course it does) stopped by the cabin and asked to talk to the Mandalorian. Privately. What? Why would a droid want to have a private conversation with his dad? There was nothing that Din Djarin should know that Grogu shouldn’t know. They were master and apprentice now. Father and son. A clan of two. But that didn’t matter. His dad told to go play by the pond for a while so he could talk to the Marshal.

Grogu had reluctantly complied with that directive, order, unwelcome communication. He shuffled his feet and walked as slow as he could and was even more put out when his dad lifted him up, put him on the other side of the cabin door and closed it. Womp rats!

Grogu had to consider whether or not to have a temper tantrum right then and there or to save that up for another time and figure out what the droid was telling his dad. He opted for reconnaissance instead of revenge. He felt that was the more balanced choice when considering how the Force would look at his behavior.

So his first option was to just drop down and listen at the small gap between the door and the floor (ha, ha, door and floor). He heard a few words but unfortunately IG-11-M stepped back as it was saying something to Din Djarin and stepped right on the tip of Grogu’s ear, which had poked past the threshold at the door. Ouch! That really hurt!

Grogu had rolled away from the door and in walked in little furious circles because he still didn’t want his dad to realize that he hadn’t gone down to the pond. Now he just had to deal with the pain, which was a lot of pain because those flat metal feet that IG-11-M had were solid and heavy, as if they were designed to squish ears. Maybe they had been.

As soon as Grogu had dealt with the immediate aftermath of his injury he was even more determined to find out what they were talking about. He looked up at the door so he could shake his fist at it (there was some residual pain left to work out) and noticed the window. He didn’t often noticed windows because they were never set for his height, but this one was perfect. He could hop up onto the sill and listen from behind the curtains that one of the bartenders at the tavern had made for them. Apparently his dad had compelled a number of the bar’s patrons to pay their tabs and the bartender was grateful.

Anyway, Grogu put his plan into action and hopped up on the sill and hid behind the yellow/green fabric with the tiny heart shapes on it. He made sure that he didn’t let either ear scoot into he room itself because he sure didn’t want to give himself away or somehow have another ear related mishap. One was more than enough for any day, ever.

“Yes. High Magistrate Karga has demanded that attend the event. As his guardian it would be inappropriate to do otherwise.” The Marshal’s tone was serious and dreadful.

Oh no! What sort of trouble had Grogu managed to get into this time? He thought he and the high Magistrate had an understanding… what happened in that office while Grogu was just eating the snacks and spinning in the chair stayed in that office! Was he gonna tell his dad about the time he spilled paint all over the floor when he making up the new signage for the High Magistrate? Or was he gonna tell him about the time he took the protocol droid apart using the Force but then couldn’t put it back together completely? He’d told the High Magistrate that certain parts weren’t essential for all droids. It’s true! Look it up.

Grogu had become so consumed with all the possible little, bitty, tiny infractions that he had committed, he forgot how wide the window sill was. He took that one step backwards and found himself looking up at the ceiling while his dad and IG-11-M were looking down at him. At least he’d fallen on top of the table. But now he had landed on the dishes left over from lunch.

He knew his dad didn’t understand what had really happened when he yelled out ‘Dank Farrick’ at the top of his lungs. How could he? The fork thing was under Grogu, piercing him in a most unkind way, but Din couldn’t see it at all. He had no idea. He just shook his head and said, “Grogu, maybe next time, use the door.”

Dank farrick!

#calendar prompt a day #the mandalorian #grogu #din djarin #IG-11-M

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cahrlotah · 2 years

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𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭

I'm so sorry, the requests are taking so long bc I was on vacation and then I've had some problems with my uni <3 Hope you guys like it

NO PROOF READING! Because im a lazy bitch.

English is not my first language so sorry if there are any grammar/spelling mistakes Word count: 2.2k

IF YOU ARE A MINOR DIN

Trigger warnings: f&m sex, marking, degrading, dom!reader, sub!reader, dom!Eddie, use of female anatomy, rough sex at the end, unprotected sex, mean!Eddie

The night is warm, not so unusual on this side of the States. The interior of my car is cold, thank God to whoever decided that it was a good idea to put an AC inside a car. Driving through the streets of Hawkins during summer is the best, specially when everyone is celebrating the fourth of July, all the people of town are in the high school field throwing fireworks and just celebrating this day. Im going to my boyfriend Eddie’s house, he said he had some kind of surprise for me.

When I pull up to his drive way I can see that something is not as always, the lights of his trailer are off, just some dim light can be seen, I knock on his door and he opens it letting the scent of vanilla and coconut form… candles?! fill up my nostrils.

He has just gone all over the top to surprise me today. His trailer is all cleaned up, there are small candles lit giving it this lovely atmosphere, he has also cooked some dinner and classical music is softly playing in the background.

“Whoa Eddie this is beautiful” I exclaim turning around appreciating every single thing he did.

“Do you like it?” He asks, his face light up when I nod fanatically. I wrap my arms around his neck, his hands fall on my waist pulling me closer to him. “You look so pretty tonight” he whispers, our faces so close I can feel his lips above mine. He breaks the distance between us, the kiss is soft, delicate even as if he thinks he is going to break me. When he breaks the kiss, he silently guides me to a small table decorated with some flowers, two large thin candles are lit in the middle with to plates of smoking pasta a la bolognese, if you know Eddie Munson you know he is not the best at cooking, so this means a lot.

We eat by candle light, we talk about everything and anything at the same time, he also explains me the next D&D campaign he is working on. His face lighting up each time he mentions those two freshmen boys and how they inspire him on creating some new plot lines and all that. After we finish eating, we lay down on the sofa, we decide to watch “Dirty Dancing”, even though Eddie doesn’t like it he is willing to watch it just because I watched a Horror especial on TV last Friday.

As the movie plays we both realise that maybe watching a movie is not the best plan we could have come up with, so we turn the tv off and go to his room.

Now this is more like Eddie, the smell of tobacco and weed is now on my nostrils, his room is still messy but I have seen it worse, but it doesn’t matter to me, at the end of the day that is how Eddie is like an organised mess. I lay on his bed, not before taking my shoes off, while he changes the classical music for some Black Sabbath. He takes off his t-shirt, letting me see all of his tattoos.

“Enjoying the view sweetheart?” He asks with a cheeky smile when he notices my eyes glued on him, but who can blame me? He just looks so good.

“Mmhh” I nod. Then out of nowhere he jumps on top of me making us bounce on the bed. We both laugh. His lips are cold when he touches mine, it sends goosebumps all over my body. His hands gripping into my waist forcing them to touch the mattress. Mine try to pull him closer but he doesn’t allow it, he uses one of his hands as handcuffs, gripping into my wrists hard. His other hand, now inside my t-shirt, plays with my tits.

The make out session continues until, the sexual desire for each other is so strong that the thing that is bothering us the most are our clothes. As Eddie frees my hands, I go directly to his belt, untying it, slowly unzipping his pants as a bulge desperately tries to scape the prison that his pants are. I smile at him, loving the effect I have on him. He makes all my clothing disappear, only leaving my underwear on.

“A” he starts to kiss my inner thigh “fucking” he continues to go up “goddess”, he finishes in the hem of my underwear.

“Holy fuck Eddie, I need you” my voice escaping my mouth as one of my hands grab his curls. My grip is not so hard, so he looks up to me. He is grinning, he watches me as my body reacts to his touch, he slides his fingers around my underwear, he knows what he is doing to me. His free hand pulls my panties down, exposing everything to him. He can’t stop smiling, he slowly moves the hand that was resting on my thigh upwards, goose bumps all over my body as a reaction to his touch.

“I think this” he says in a seductive voice and pointing to my breasts and coming closer towards me “needs to go”,he whispers into my ear, then, his lips meeting my neck and his hands on my back undoing my bra. A couple of seconds later, the “click” sound of my bra can be heard, Eddie throws it somewhere in his room, at this point I don’t even care. His hands travel all the way to my tits and his lips start to go down from my neck to my collar bone, to my tits, leaving there some marks.

As he is on top of me, his hand goes right in between my legs, when the cold metal of his rings touches my sensitive area, it makes me moan into his mouth.

“Just like that, princess”, he enters one of his fingers inside me, my hands gripping into his bedsheets and my head rolling back. “Honey, no, you have to look into my eyes if you want me to keep going” he says in a demanding tone. I look at him, he is smiling because he knows I will do everything he tells me to. This makes me somehow mad because I want to have the control, I want him to beg me as I beg him, I want him to be so desperate for my touch he whines until he can’t handle it.

Something in my head clicks, and my goal for today is to be in control. As he keeps fingering me, moans scape my mouth, it doesn’t allow me to think straight, my mind is all foggy, the only thought on my mind is how good he is making me feel. It takes me a couple of minutes to “sober up” and make a plan to make Eddie Munson my bitch for at least five minutes.

“Eddie!”I moan out loud for the whole trailer park to hear, he stops to look at me “I want to try something new” I say as calmly as possible.

“Yeah?” He asks lifting his eyebrows “ And what does my little princess want to try?” he slowly crawls to be on top of me smirking. I smirk back. When he lets his guard down to kiss me I take the opportunity and wrap my legs around his waist and using all the strength that I have I turn our positions around, so now I’m on the top while he lays under me.

“This” and just like that, I start to kiss him passionately while simultaneously moving my hips along his boner. His hands are quickly to go to my hips, trying to mark the pace of my movements, but my hands reach his aggressively and I pin them down next to his head. “Today, I’m in charge” I say in the most seductive voice I can, he smirks, does he like that I am being more dominant towards him? I ask myself.

I grab is dick and move it around my sensitive area, teasing the both of us, he closes his eyes when he feels his dick entering me, his mouth fully open, we both moan at the same time, our voices becoming one. My hips start to move up and down, Eddie’s hips lift up each time I go back down, making each thrust harder and harder.

“Jesus fuck, princess,” he lets out on a single breath “I- I didn’t knoooww holy fuck” he moans as I press my hips to his and start moving forward. “You co-could do that, shit” at this point he can’t take it and moves his hands to my waist, following my pace. “I’m going to come” he closes his eyes, giving me the chance to start going up and down again. He moans louder this time“Fuuuckk” he pulls me downwards, his hands gripping on my skin, his eyes roll back and a loud groan leaves his mouth. “Jesus Christ (Y/N), fuck what a nasty whore you are” he says pulling out. I lay next to him, a big smirk on my face. I feel good with myself. “Why are you smirking?” He lays on is forearm while some of his hair falls into his face.

“I would never have known that you would let me make you a sub, even if its for one night.” I say proudly, thing that kinda annoys him as he throws himself back again, laughing. “Why are you laughing?” I question him, now being me the one who is resting on her forearm.

“Babe” he lets out a small laugh “do you really think I would let you do that if I didn’t want it to happen? Are you really that dumb, my little princess?” He is now facing me, his hand moving my hair out my face . “Answer me baby.” He comes closer to me “do you really think I would let you do that if I didn’t want it to happen?” His voice sounds heavier, more intimidating. I can’t move, I can’t say anything, there is a knot tied inside my throat. “Yeah, that’s what I fucking thought. Now open those legs of yours so I can show you who is in charge” his voice sounds demanding, I have never seen this side of Eddie before, that doesn’t mean I don’t like it.

I do as I’m told, my legs open slowly for him, his gaze moving from my eyes to between my legs, he smiles for himself as he places small kisses on my thighs, he bites into them making me moan. He makes his way up slowly, placing kisses everywhere he can, not reaching my cunt, just teasing me. As he comes closer to my sensitive area, I can’t help but to whine.

“Beg for it baby” he demands as he looks up to me and he enters to of his fingers inside of me.

“Fucking shit Eddie!” I, instinctively, grab the bedsheets while my back arches a little. “Pl-pleasee fuuckk” the movements of his fingers fastens “Eddie fuck me plea-please I ne-need you” I don’t even know how I ended that sentence.

“Whatever my princess asks for” and just like that he enters me, each thrust stronger than the one before. His hands not moving from my hips, just in case I pull them up, he brings them down each time. The only moments he moves them is when my hair gets stuck on my face or when my hands reach for his shoulders, when that happens he grabs them with one of his hands and puts them over my head whispering “ Do you like that right? You fucking stupid whore”.

Each time he says something mean, the collision between our bodies is harder. My head rolls back and my back arches. “Aww my little bunny is going to cum?” He asks making fun of me, I nod, my brain all foggy. “Then beg for it slut”, Eddie’s hips start to move slower, teasing me.

“F-f-fuck Eddie please!” I moan.

“Sorry darling but I didn’t quite caught that. What did you just say?” He puts his hand behind his ear, mocking the fact that I’m not begging the way he wants me to. He goes inside of me one more time, harder than any other this night, I let out a moan, my back arching more and my grip to his bedsheets becomes stronger. “Say it” he orders

“Fuck, Eddie please I fucking beg you to let this little whore cum all over your dick” I scream as I feel the orgasm building up inside of me. I look into his eyes, I know I look like a fucking mess and I know that he loves that he can do that to me.

“Then cum over me darling” he thrusts in and out of me and in a few seconds I’m making a mess all over his dick.

Tag list. @eddiesdungeon @cyberfaii @idkkk127 @e0509 @victoriacourone

#eddie smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #joseph quinn #stranger things #eddie munson smut #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #i am an eddie munson simp and im proud #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic

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pedroswhore · 2 years

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To Break Old Oaths

Hi guys this is my first Mando fic and I’m pretty anxious as this is my first time. So constructive criticism and feedback would really be appreciated. Also I’m gonna warn everyone that my grammar is horrible and although I will try my best if I miss a lil comma or so please don’t crucify me. This is a slow burn enemies to lovers fics, with a heavy amount of smut in later chapters (if it gets that far). We will be diverting from cannon because mando would never leave Grogu, also the razor crest lives. (No one’s screwing in the star fighter regardless of how how hot it is). I really hope you enjoy this and let me know if it’s worth continuing or not. Xoxox / Pedroswhore

TW: rated M explicit sexual descriptions, mature language, male masturbation, implications of past sexual activities. Din Djarin x Ofc

Chapter 1

The Trees of Ianthe

…

He wondered if his silence was cruel, as he glanced at the little womp rat watching him with wide depthless eyes.

Anyone could tell him going days without speaking could be isolating for a child but he never knew what to say. How exactly could you talk to a fifty year old baby, who only expressed himself with patu.

Still those eyes followed him a while as he put in the coordinates for the bounty, he sighed picking him up and placing him in his lap the child clamoured around to turn to him.

“What do you need kid?”

He asked his voice a little rough from not having been used these past couple of days. A clawed finger reached for the silver ball on his console eyes expectant as he waited for his father to finally relent.

“No, you’ve got toys”

Din scolded him as he gestured to the various trinkets he had picked up for his little pest. He pointed to the console.

“This is not a toy”

The child’s ears drooped dramatically as he expressed his disappointment and those bug eyes began to fill with tears. Din cursed if the kid set off, the time it would take to get to his destination would be filled with unforgiving wails.

“Fuck kid don’t cry fine you can have the maker damned thing”

He screwed the silver ball off and handed it to an eager paw as the kid cooed excitedly. Din found this difficult being a buir - a father often at times he was sated with the child being fed and sheltered.

But it was becoming impossible to go on hunts, when his mind wandered to how he had to leave the kid behind alone on the ship. He would leave enough food out in the open mostly just dried meat packets and ration bars. This was the way, he would not part from the child even if it weighed heavy on his shoulders, he would never part from his son.

He’d try to talk more, maybe that was what the boy was missing company, he knew shit all about child rearing. But even he could conclude leaving him for hours on end alone was not something fathers usually did.

He heard the ball hit the floor and looked to the kid in his lap snuggled against Beskar. Ears dropped a little drool pooling in the corner of his mouth. Dins lips tugged upwards before he thinned them out again and got up to place the womp rat in the hammock above his bunk. He stripped himself off his armour, and placed it in a corner, before heading to the fresher.

He usually avoided the mirror at times he forgot he was forgiven of his creed, he was not forbidden to look upon his own face. He would wash his face in the dark, brush his teeth muscle memory aiding his blindness. Trim his beard he remembered was brown not black when it began to outgrow his helmet. He caught his reflection, a few more wrinkles had gathered at the corner of his eyes. Hair was beginning to curl at its length a few fly away greys.

It was enough, this glimpse reminded him he was just a man beneath his Beskar he knew it was an assumed burden. To carry the weight of his helmet but they did not know how the weight in its familiarity was his greatest comfort. The Beskar, the weapons that adorned his body it was the only identity he could cling too. He looked like the remnants of his father, yet there was no joy behind tired eyes, just duty - his creed becoming him as it always had.

When the water hit his body and the day washed off him he, thought of how he had a clan how with Grogu he managed to belong. Whether the pests felt as if he belonged with him.

This was the way, to find comfort in burdens. Din pulled on a fresh shirt threadbare, rough against his skin, abrasive against new wounds.

He traced the cut he had cauterised a few days ago, refusing to let the kid heal him when he could just clench his jaw and breathe through the pain. Even the touch of the cauteriser was welcome to Din, it affirmed that his skin had not become Beskar. It was a privilege to bleed to feel something other than guilt.

For Din new wounds were penance.

…

She did not miss the silence in her home, the chatter of eager children was welcomed it was encouraged. The walls were painted with the brightest of colours, imprints of little hands had won against the once beige walls.

She smiled as she passed the portraits they had made of her, of themselves pinned on her walls. The dents in the bannister, a result of rigorous play but she never raised her voice, the noise the wildness that filled her house was nostalgic of a time she clung too.

She would not mind if all her decor had been bruised or broken as long as the noise never stopped. A tear-stained child tugged at her dress, her eyes spilling cheeks ruddy. She instantly bent down to sit her on her hip.

"What is it darling?"

She asked softly, patting away the child’s tears with her sleeve.

"Mama," the child sobbed as she stroked her hair.

"A few more hours, Rosie, and your mama will come pick you up,"

She comforted her as Rosie sniffed against her chest.

"How about we make some cake just this once, huh sweetheart?" she smiled down at her.

“I know mama said no to eating sweets, but you've been a good girl, and good girls get cake."

Rosies' eyes widened as she wrapped her arms around her neck, gleefully exclaiming, "cake!" As she carried her to the kitchen, after checking on the baby in the crib, only a few months old, his parents had to travel the world for their trade.

She has been delighted to take him off their hands for a few days. The more children she could fill her home with, the better. The widowed mechanic had left his twins with her some time in the morning. The two boys, albeit mischievous, had settled as the sun had begun to set.

They were taken with the assortment of crayons and snacks she had offered to them when she realised their boredom was making them irritable. A light shanty played on that old radio she had salvaged from the market. She sang along as she strapped Rosie into her chair in the kitchen as she went about baking, stopping to serenade the curious child from time to time.

A heavy knock on the door pulled her out of her song. It was impatient. As the door knob rattled, she flinched, biting the inside of her cheek. It filled her with a sense of dread. She thought it had been years since no one had come for it. No one knew. She swallowed her fear it was probably nothing she convinced herself.

As the impatient knocking, elicited a sharp "I’m coming" from her.

She picked Rosie up and put her on her hip. brushing the tendrils away from her face. As she walked to the hall, she heard the door being slammed open. The boys ran to her, hiding behind her skirts, alarmed by the noise. The air left her lungs as she recoiled at the warrior standing at her threshold. The door splintered open.

His armour shone in the low light, an abundance of weapons strapped to his person, gloved hands holding up a blaster. She wanted to scream and run as she always did. She knew she could not outrun him or escape the reaper before her, his armour making him look like an old god of war. Just as merciless. He stalked closer, a hulking mass death incarnate looming over her, blasters drawn but not aimed.

Until he reached her frozen figure. Rosie began to cry and she rocked her. Tears did not spill down her face, as she stood rooted to her spot.

"It’s okay darling," she whispered, "you’ll be okay." She did not dare move back to even consider grabbing a knife and cutting her throat when she had children clinging to her.

This wide-eyed child who felt safe in her arms, whom this warrior had now tainted by his greed. The cool metal of the blaster ghosted her forehead.

“Please their parents are coming for them let them go home safety,” she pleaded.

"If you run, I will find you." He let go of her wrist but still crowded her. She exhaled, holding the twins' little hands together in her own.

Pulling them to Nathan’s crib as tears streaked down her face, her back turned, she quickly wiped them away with the back of her hand, refusing to let them see her face laden with terror.

"It’s okay, it’s okay," she whispered to the screaming child, picking him up with one arm, as Rosie refused to be put down. She held him in the crook of her arm, rocking, swaying, and still the child would not quit. He was hungry. The mandalorian watched her as she moved to the kitchen corner of her cottage. She could feel his stare. And both anger and fear flooded her at the way he watched her and the children, terrifying them beyond measure.

"Rosie, please darling, I need to put you down, the baby needs to eat." She tried trying to detach the child from her hair, her dress.

The twins held each other’s hands, still clinging to her legs. Rosie whimpered and it broke her heart. She turned to the mandalorian, her heart in her mouth, her voice shaking. "They are afraid; you need to move back." She forced him out. He did not move a statue of Beskar and blasters.

"You must doubt yourself, hunter, if you think I can conspire to outrun you when I have children clinging to me."

His gaze never left her, but he stepped back and she breathed easily. Forgetting for a moment, she was still at his mercy. "Rosie, come now sweetheart, Nathan is hungry," she cooed as her hands untangled from her hair and she untangled herself from her chest.

Her cheeks splotched, her eyes wide as she was set on her feet. The little girl turned to the hunter, still close to her skirts. as she warmed Bantha milk on the stove. Her hands were shaking as she set it alight, the baby still in her arms. She was too afraid to set him down, worried that the liberty she had been granted would become too much.

Rosie tentatively stepped forward and before she could stop her, she charged at the mandalorian in an outburst of anger, little feet clad in wooden shoes kicking at the hunters' legs. "No hurting Lilly !" she yelled as loud as her little voice could. She froze, staggering forward.

"She’s just a child" she pleaded, assuming that he would aim his blaster. Instead, he picked the kicking, screaming child up. She ran to him, clawing at his arms trying to tug Rosie out.

"She doesn’t know what she’s doing. Let her go, let her kriffing go!" she cursed. He ignored her as he held the child’s wrists to stop her brave assault. He held her in the crook of his big arm. Rosie looked impossibly smaller. "I will not," he grunted out.

Rosie did not relent. "Lilly says lying is bad." She argued, her brows drawn, squirming to be free. He put the blaster away. "I will not hurt her," he lied, sating the child. Lilly moved back. The hunter was not planning on letting Rosie go, but he did not seem to have any intent on hurting her, just calming her. She kept an eye on the mass of metal as he sat on the dinky little armchair, Rosie on his knee, helmet trained on the cowering twins.

Lillia tried to ignore his presence as she put Nathan down for a second to fill his bottle with milk. She stayed standing as she fed him the twins, not moving from her side. Rosie settled against the hunter, her wrists freed as she curiously traced the mandibles. Asking him an array of questions about his favourite colour, if he too could pee like the twins, babbling away. She watched him, trying to read his body language if not his face, whether he was volatile enough to switch on the little girl he let climb all over him. The entire time Rosie sat on his knee, she held her breath. The mechanics' knock came first, like a reckoning. He shot up, and Lillia took a shaky breath as he put the girl down.

"I’ll open the door, let me safely give the children back."

His head tilted towards the twin. Not a word was said between them. But she knew he would not offer her that freedom. Instead, she turned to the twins after putting Nathan down, holding each of their hands and giving their noses soft kisses.

"I love you both; tell your daddy not to worry about me," she said softly, indifferent to whether the mandalorian heard her or not.

She could practically feel his footsteps align with hers as she opened the door. The mechanic's smile dropped as he took in the mandalorian. He took a step forward, and so did the wall of Beskar behind her.

"They were wonderful, Silas," she said, breaking the tension, smiling tightly.

His hands shot out to take his sons away from the predator behind them. "Is he wanted company Lillia?" the mechanic asked, his lips thinning.

"Yes," she said, killing all hope for the mechanic, who wanted nothing but to take the sweet girl in his arms and make her his own.

He nodded, offering her a smile and shooting the hunter a look of distaste before taking his children.

She watched the mechanic leave, the two little boys chatting away. He looked back, and she turned away to the hunter. To be met with silence, yet he was so close, too close to her. She was seething when she got to the kitchen, muttering under her breath how long she had evaded the man looking for her.

And now he had sent a damned mandalorian. She nearly tripped over him. Her face flushed, she caught herself. As Rosie rushed to her, "Lilly, Lilly," she tugged at her dress. Lillia picked her up, sitting on her hip yet again. Whipping back to the blasted hunter, "How far do you think I’ll kriffing go?" she snapped when she hit her face against his Beskar.

Golden brown tendrils curled away from her face, escaping the once-neat braid, as her cheeks ached and venom pooled on her tongue.

"Greatest hunter in the guild, following me around like a fucking shadow," she continued, her tone rising and rising.

Her helplessness, her frustration at the fact she had a toddler on her hip, the spark she had inside of her had long faded. And the twin blades she kept in her boots were inaccessible.

The hunter stepped forward menacingly, a gloved hand shooting out to grab the back of her neck. She was too full of her fury to care about how she had so recklessly dishonoured him. Rosie's little hands cupped her pounding cheek.

"Hurt?" Rosie whispered. as orange-tipped fingers settled brusingly on her neck. Lillias’s fury waned as she glanced at the nervous cherub looking up at her with such tenderness.

She'd rather not be exposed to her impending corpse, and there was no way she'd be bound to a hunter, even if he was a mandalorian and she couldn't anywhere to impale him.

"No, sweetheart. "It was an accident," she reassured her, softening her voice. Cupping her hand with her own, the Mandalorian looked down at his fingers, not leaving her, his proximity unnerving. "

I told you I'd keep my word; no one will come for me; there's no fight here," she said, her skin hurting from his touch.

"You will watch your mouth, girl."

His voice was stoic; no need for a threat or a warning, just a simple command. She nodded, convincing herself she was forcing this docility, but in truth, her head bowed instinctively. His presence demanded it from the way he towered over her, all bulk and autonomy.

His weapons were not as daunting as the wide expanse of his shoulders. He took up too much space, making her cottage suffocating. She saw a mountain of what she presumed was a man, but with no tell, she could not read him, listen to the song of his aura, or begin to decipher him. He was steel and silence, the rough edges of his voice rooting a deep seed of fear and rage inside of her.

Some arrogant part of her convinced herself she could take him, bring him to his knees, leave the rust bucket on his arse. He finally gave her space for an inch or two to move her fingers, lifting her off her neck. As she moved to the oven, she pulled out the cake with a kitchen towel. Vanilla and sugar filled the room, and Rosie clapped excitedly from her seat on the wooden counter.

She busied herself with cutting the cake, cooling it, poking holes so the heat escaped, yet the heat that transcended the leather of his gloves lingered on her skin. Rosies' mother knocked on her door, and she caught her breath in her throat as she watched them walk up to her door. She has painted a green that is reminiscent of the great elder trees of Ianthe, growing tall and unwavering. Rosie’s hand was in hers, Nathan in the crook of her arm, his things in a linen bag on her shoulder.

She choked back a sob at the woman’s sweet smile, the light radiance emitting from her tired face. Her gaze was soft as she scooped her daughter up. Her gaze flitted with worry when Lilly opened the door wider and the helmed warrior’s presence became obvious. "Roohi, I need you to take Nathan, something came up." She tried to speak as her voice became thick with tears.

Roohi looked at the mandalorian and the girl. He dwarfed her, her eyes terrified but her composure unrelenting. "What came up?" she pressed, taking Nathan in her arms, her stare pinning the warrior full of resentment.

"A debt," Lillia offered her response, sordid, a weariness settling into her bones. Roohi put Rosie down, pulling Lillia into her embrace. I am here, I always will be. Whatever debt there is, you tell us, we’ll work together.

"That’s enough." The hunter's voice penetrated the embrace, and Lillia jerked back as if she had been shot. She smiled despite the sadness that etched itself on her face. She pulled back. "I will be okay.

"I'll come back," she reassured the woman in front of her, wrapping her arms around herself. "Sorry Roo," she all but whispered before the mandalorian shut the door. Instantly crowding her, capturing both her wrists with one hand, she exhaled, as his cuffed hands settled on her hips to turn her.

And she offered a sweet smile and said, "Do I terrify you, mandalorian?" She asked, holding up her bound hands. Again, silence greeted her, his helm tilting down to meet her eyes.

"You should be terrified," she exclaimed, her gaze fixed on his visor. "Maybe I'll cut your throat before you can pull out those beautifully crafted blasters." Her voice was honeyed, but her words were goading, eliciting a reaction; she'd rather be killed by a goddess cursed Mandalorian than feel his gaze on her again. She pressed herself forward, trying her hand, refusing to be further unnerved by the way he handled her like prey.

"There must be some ugly scars under there, perhaps an old withered man with nothing left to give but to take." Her words were soft, a faint smirk on her lips. Perhaps hurting his creed would bless her with the kiss of a blaster. How quickly she had become ready to end the life she had made. She would do it a thousand times over, take a shot to her heart rather than be at her ransomers' mercy. The hunters' hand found its familiar place on her neck. He closed the distance, impossibly larger than life, his gloved paw taking up the entirety of her neck as he pressed against her windpipe. She leaned into his touch, choking slightly.

"Stop talking," he grunted.

She looked up at him through her lashes. "g-go on-n," she fought back against his grip. "B-brin-gg me-e in cold"; it was now becoming painful to breathe, let alone speak.

Still, she held her ground, looking up at the mandalorian with a plea in her eyes and a smile on her lips. As he tested the strength of his fingers on the slender curve of her neck, A tear slipped from her eye as her blood chilled and he let go. Air filled her lungs and her eyes watered as she held back her cough. He took her by the arm and she kicked and screamed, dragging her feet, still hopeful of a little death.

Despite breaking her vow, he did not say a word, just pulled her with brute force until she fell, her white dress sullied by the mud. He hauled her up by her waist and threw her over his shoulder. Her fists hurt as she hit Beskar, but she would rather he kill her; she would not return. She refused. Her exhaustion caught up with him, but he did not slow his stride, even with her added weight, a gloved hand holding her tight on the back of her thighs.

So she gave her all in antagonising him, and he did respond once by pressing his fingers tighter into her flesh. But soon enough, the words gave out too, and she just hung off his shoulder, fear sticking to her bones at being frozen in that chamber. Lillia could tell that his ship was old. It was practically falling apart.

Maybe the death trap would kill her if he refused to. He pulled her off his shoulder just to pin her against his ship, his thigh keeping her legs apart from crowding his helmet to her ear. "If I hear word out of you girl you’re going into carbonite"

His helmet dug into her shoulder as he spoke, the edge in his voice still sleeping through despite the modulator. She nodded, she would agree to anything to avoid the carbonite. His ship was - cosy for a mandalorian, trinkets everywhere ration packs on the counters a silver ball rolling around on the floor.He cuffed her to the ship wall, as she sat folded on top of crates her legs splayed out in front of her.

Her dress had ridden up to her waist, exposing her thighs. Her skin warmed when the mandalorian’s helm followed the length of her legs before it returned to her face. He bent down to check the cuffs before his fingers reached her waist and he pulled the dress down to her knees as if he was mocking her, helpless how she was at his mercy. Maker if her hands were free, she would have thrown something heavy enough to dent his big ass head. She grunted in exasperation at being filthy, sweaty, and cuffed to a crate, she wanted to relent and she did closing her eyes letting her exhaustion overdone her.

***

He didn’t expect her, didn’t expect the younglings clinging to her skirts, the toddler on her hip, nor the wild, striking eyes that dared him to hunt her. Despite how her hands trembled at the blasters aimed at her, he did not expect her. It was a decision he did not have the liberty to make, but he made it there and then.

She would not be harmed. He ground his teeth under the helm, grateful for the anonymity it gave him. That she did not see the frustration on his face. She would be another mouth to feed. The credits on her head could keep the crest flying and the pantry full for a year. If he did not bring her in, others would not think twice before killing her.

She would be another maker damned mouth to feed. He needed her to fear him, so the blasters stayed on her even if the children's whimpers made him waver.

She asked only that he wait until the children could be returned. To his annoyance, some sick part of him was relieved that the children were not hers; she looked too young on the cusp of adulthood to have already had three children. He ignored her pleas when she thought he would harm the little girl charging at him with such rage that he smiled behind his mask.

As the girl climbed over him fury in the redness of her cheeks, he remembered his foundling back in the crest. He sat her on her knee and trained his helmet on the woman. She was still watching cautiously as she fed the baby in her arms, her eyes softening, her hair falling into her face.

He fought the urge to tuck her hair behind her ears. The girl on his lap was inquisitive distracting him, her little hands mapping his helmet, having long figured he posed no threat. He found it fascinating that he had witnessed many bounties armed to the teeth piss themselves in his presence.

But here she was, the little warrior clamouring around his arms, the childish lisp making him smile yet again. She was oblivious to the way the widowed mechanic looked at her, his eyes hungry, his fingers longing for her when his hand ghosted hers. To Din, it was recklessness rather than bravery.

He had no desire to make more children orphans, but he would not hesitate. He stepped close when the widower tried, smirked beneath his helmet when he looked back, and she didn’t. He nearly ripped his eyes out when they fixated on the smooth curve of her shoulder when she bent down to embrace the little boys. His eyes were following the inking of a vine disappearing down her shoulder.

He did not want to kill the girl’s mother but her interrogation was making it difficult, yet the girl was quick in her reassurance, convincing warding of the woman’s questions for her own good. He noticed their hurried glances as slammed the door ending their goodbyes. There was a flush to her cheeks, the tell-tale signs of rage a wildness that made his own skin run hot.

The word fuck out of her mouth was sweet torture, gilded honey dripping in venom. If he was a weaker man, he’d have bent her over that table, flipped over her dress and claimed what the maker offered. His jaw clenched at the way she argued with him, as if he were her equal. He didn't expect her to be aware of the fight lurking behind her eyes, and even in her tenderness, the sharp gaze did not leave him. Even her violence was gentle, small fists bruising when they hit his Beskar. Her words were biting, but he would not dignify her with a response.

Even when she questioned his honour, his fingers just dug into soft flesh and her white dress rode higher. The trek to the crest was excruciating to have her writhing and muttering as his hand shamelessly caressed her thigh. It was not helping the way it was becoming painful to not stroke his aching cock at the memory of her pendent hanging between her breasts.

He regretted silencing her. At least her noise kept those feral thoughts at bay, and now it was just the urgent whispering of his instinct telling him to seek peace in her warmth, to let the silk of her skin soothe the ache between his shoulder blades to quell the part of him that was already weeping for her.

The carbonate terrified her, kept her quiet. She did not struggle when he cuffed her to a crate. She was too volatile to be free with the ship on solid ground. His helmet fixed on the curve of her generous thighs, a scar ran over her knee, and he bit his tongue to stop himself from groaning at the way he became impossibly harder. He left her almost limping to the cockpit, seething at the way his body was reacting as if he had never seen a woman before.

He usually made quick work of his instincts in silence and relief. And yet he had never met a woman that sparked such urgency, one that made him stain his trousers as if he was an adolescent, not a man well past his prime. It was need, an unbridled need that made him slump against the cockpit door, his hands losing their efficiency as he ripped off his armour.

His skin was scorched as visions of her thighs in that white dress hiked up to her waist clouded his thoughts. He finally got to his cock, releasing a low hiss when he held himself at his base, his calluses against the sensitive skin only fuelling the fire in his blood. As he palmed himself, low grunts filled in the whirring silence as he debauched himself, a woman lost and found on the other side splayed out for him. But he was not that type of man.

His breaths stuttered as his balls tightened and he reached his peak coming over his hand onto his flight suit. Making a mess, his shoulders heaving as his body took its fill. He rested against the door, his head bowed as he tried to shake away the image of her, trying desperately to keep his body at bay. He was half hard when he tucked himself back into his flight suit, breathing deeply as he cleaned himself up, frustrated at his lack of control.

For kriff's sake, he had to be a better man than this if he was to keep her on his ship. If he was to protect her. He’d have to protect her from himself from the way his body demanded her, burned for her.

Next Chapter 2

#star wars #pedro pascal #the mandalorian #din djarin #original female character #grogu djarin #mando smut #mandalorian smut #pedro pascal characters

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sqeedledob · 9 months

Note

recent fluff ask game: same for blanket!!

OK I THINK I ACTUALLY HAVE SOMETHING FOR THIS

Bri you might actually remember this, this is one of the older Jaxthena drabbles tee hee

Jax groaned in his sleep, yet another nightmare striking him. Two weeks. It had been two weeks since he’d been able to get a proper night’s sleep. Here he thought he was over these bad dreams, thought he had managed to chase them away… Instead, he realized, he probably just buried those emotions. Aki had a point when she said he might want to start talking things out, but being the stubborn ass he is, he opted to keep things to himself. And look where that got him: peace for a while, but one trigger set him back several years. They started up again with the most recent mission the team had been on. Jax didn’t think going to his old Province would affect him but damn was he wrong. Boy oh boy was he wrong, he should’ve taken Antonia up on that offer to stay behind just this once. Of course, he couldn’t let himself, right hand man and all that: he had a duty. The nightmares all began the same way: he was running. Running, always running, just like back then. He was only seven when his parents gave him the choice: get the fuck out or get reported. Only seven when they accused him of theft and the Boss... He shuddered. He was running down those same alleys as when he was a kid, and from what? He didn’t know. When the creature caught up to him, he’d always startle awake, never getting a clear look at it. He popped up in bed, gasping for breath as sweat dripped down his temple. He felt the flames within him start to lick at the surface of his mind in response to his panic, and he quickly did his best to smother it. Deep breath in, deep breath out, come on Jaxon. He turned to his left, seeing Ezume curled on her side, facing away from him. He scooted closer to her and wrapped an arm around her waist. Gently, he pulled her to him, and nuzzled his face in her hair. This… This was much better. Feeling herself get pulled into her boyfriend’s chest, Ezume gave a small smile. Placing her hand against his and rubbing his knuckles to help sooth him. She could feel him shaking a little, his body temperature still higher than usual, and knew he was likely still suffering from the aftermath of another nightmare. She waved a hand, manipulating the water in the air, cooling the space around them, and hopefully helping him relax. He grunted as she laid her hand over his own, disappointed he’d woken her up, “‘m sorry, I din- mean to wake you.” He mumbled groggily, wrapping their legs together and burying his face deeper into her hair. She only gave him a light chuckle in response, bringing his hand to her lips to press a kiss to the back of it, “You know I never sleep anyway.” Deciding there was no point in trying to hide it anymore, she turned up the brightness on her holopad, proving her point. “Mmm, don’t like that,” he grumbled back, pulling her even closer to his chest. “Movie?” She asked, swiping through the list of downloads they had collected over the years. He hummed in response, tucking her head under his chin and squinting at the bright light in his face. Taking it as a yes, she pressed on what she knew was his comfort movie, and snuggled in for the night. Well… the rest of the night at least.

#OC BK: Jaxon #OC BK: Ezume/Athena #OC BK: Aki #OC BK: Antonia #Fluff #Writeblr #ask game #nightmare #Ask box #Ask answered #THEYYYYYYY

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tristayranambrosio · 9 months

Text

Things Forgotten and Reforged Part 2

Trist had never been a Tavern-Bard. He’d played at a Cabaret and even then half the time he was playing Host and Call-boy for the nobles who thought they were slumming it in the Row when they were really being pampered by a former noble who -actually- wanted to do some good for those less fortunate, Nestor had adopted him after all in all but writing He and Palehoof were what passed as parents though far too late to instill any confidence in the Wayward Youth that seduced widows and widowers for a bed to sleep in when under the Cabaret Tables didn’t cut it…

So when he awkwardly attempted to step into the recluse he was overwhelmed by the warring dins of the space. Dozens upon dozens of too sweaty and drunken patrons yelling so loud the noble colleague of his was being drowned out entirely from the entry.

While he no longer needed the cloak to keep from being arrested here in Stormwind, Trist knew enough that his distinctive hair would surely alert those in the crowd that knew him and on this mission he truly did not wish to draw attention to himself, or get distracted. He often dismissed the notions that he was some household name, that his presence meant anything, but if he was being entirely honest, his anonymity was a thing of the past. The name he’d always hoped to make for himself -had- been made, and there were likely even pictures in the paper of what everyone’s familiar Pink Haired bard and Blue Haired Fiancé had gotten up to at a beachside. How they’d both taken a familiar celebrity as a lover that they both seemed just as wrapped around as one another. That wasn’t new. People making the assumptions they did in gossip that just because Trist was spending time with someone they were automatically sleeping together… though in fairness in this case…

That wasn’t important, his wandering mind and kindling flames with a certain Starman he’d pined after for years was -not- why he’d come to the Blue Recluse.

He squeezed his way past the press of bodies at the bar to get a better look at the modest stage that the Bard played on. He was a middle aged fellow, well fed and would have been nicely dressed if it wasn’t a few years out of fashion. He leaned back on a new seat that had been given to him after the last braw that had broken out had claimed his old one for a casualty. Trist strode over and dropped a few gold pieces into the Bard’s hat sitting at his feet which made the man’s brows raise.

The performer leaned in and asked, “That’d be a tip fit for a man lookin for more than a song, friend.”

Trist chuckled, “Just a few answers.”

“Yer not a guard are ye?” The large man narrowed his eyes.

“Gods, no they’d never take the likes of me. Been arrested too many times myself.” It was true. More often than not in attempts to stop bullies from being their lovely selves to people.

“Ask away mister ‘hood’ indoors with yer deep pockets.”

“Did you play here when the Lady of the Violet Hour hosted?” Trist asked unphased.

“Once or twice, she’s closed up didn’ ye hear? Was in the papers. Father’s ill.” The musician kept playing and tried to read Trist’s face under the shade of the hood and the dim of the space itself, “Yer also not ‘er type, no time for the void elven folks, Addy’s a good girl.”

“I’m sure she is.” Trist agreed wishing he could be his charming self, but looking as shady as he did certainly was doing him no favors, “I’m actually asking about if… any of the old Violet Hour’s… tables or chairs are still about.”

“Hrumph, not much of the Hour survived the bloody black-flame -death- that was visited on the place and the Park. And since they’ve closed up, there's no reason to keep any of it about.” The Bard was clearly losing interest.

“Y-yes but I was hoping that maybe -something- was left.”

“Ye can go digging through trash if ye want boy but there’s not but ash and broken things left of the Hour, well that and the People, the lot of the staff and the Lady ‘erself.”

“Trash, fine, where?”

That made the Musician do a double take, “Yer an odd duck tossin small fortunes about and askin to dig through trash.”

Trist shrugged, “What can i say, I’m feeling Nostalgic, thanks for the time, Your ‘E’ is a bit out of tune.”

The Bard went red faced for a moment looking like he’d let Trist have a piece of his mind but when he plucked a check on the string, sure enough… Fuming the musician turned one of the lute pegs cursing rich men and their ears. Trist grimaced a bit as he made his way through the busy space slipping away towards the back.

Eventually, hiding in plain sight, Trist made it to the back alley behind the Recluse startling two servers who had clearly come out for a smoke and a bicker, they dropped their cigars and ground their ashes under boots before hurrying in assuming they’d been caught at something they shouldn’t have been, leaving Trist alone with a pile of waterlogged shipping pallets and broken barrels.

Anyone else would have seen it as a dead end but Trist carefully sorted through it all. He found an old Barrel that had lost a fight with an axe and retrieved the patch that bore the violet hour’s brand… and sighed, it wasn’t exactly what he’d been looking for but it was something.

Just as he turned to retreat he saw a large oddly shaped board, it was stained and smelled of mold having been in the back under a gutter, but with a push he was able to push was turned out to be an old Sign off the brick walls it had been tucked against and behind the dumpster set to be emptied some time never.

‘The Violet Hour’ The sign read in what once had been a vivid gold leafed paint that had been stripped and scrapped for what was considered valuable, the purple paint of the field the words were on had bubbled and peeled on its own but as he read the sign that detailed the specials for meals from day to day his eyes lit with delight reading near the bottom, ‘Live music Performed by Ithilios Starstrider & gues-’ The words had been cracked off and burnt but Trist’s smile was impossible to shake now.

He carefully knelt beside the sign and with great reverence and care, so as not to risk destroying already rotting wood, to extract The name off the sign retrieving the panel it was carved into.

Trist tucked the salvaged sign close to his chest just as rain started to patter on his hood and a few displeased strays and denizens skittered down the Alley. Taking their que, the beaming bard humming his way down the cobbles and puddles walked through the rain to his next stop.

#roleplay #moon guard #world of warcraft #leo #warcraft rp #wow oc #music #the violet hour #tavern rp #the blue recluse #bard

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interdimensionalmenace · 1 year

Text

Thoughts while watching The Mandalorian s3e7 “The Spies”

SPOILERS

(Form recap) still have bad vibes about Bo getting the saber back fuck

Ew imperial probe droid

the code is a TK number

FUCKING GIDEON

Oh she IS spy. Figures.

Back to Gideon

Those helmets look like clown t-visors + Mando kit + Imperial Mandalorian commando gear wtf

OH SHIT THE CLONING TANKS

WHAT’S IN THEM

THRAWN NAME DROP

COMMANDANT HUX??? IS THAT FIRST ORDER GENERAL HUX’S FUCKING DAD???

Project Necromancer good lord

Captain Pelleaon. That’s familiar. Why.

Bitch I hope if Thrawn comes back he whoops your imperial asses

They’re speaking of Thrawn’s return like he’s an imperial messiah obdjeknw

BRENDOL HUX. It is his fucking dad what the hell. Ofc he’s involved in Project Necromancer

Bitch what do you mean you’re not obsessed with cloning and Hux is, Gideon

You jackasses better be afraid of the Mandalorians

“We shall be rid of the Mandalorians once and for all” good luck with that bitch

THE THEME. OH MY GOD THE THEME.

Aww Nevaro healing

The parallels between the Chimera and Kryze’s light cruiser having stuff painted/etched on their hulls

Look at all the SHIPS!!! So many Kom’rk class fighters, the light cruiser, the transports AAAAA

Ex-Death Watch meets Children if the Watch damn

Looks like a fucking West Side Story confrontation lineup

And they all IMMEDIATELY take off their helmets lol

The NOD

Paz and Axe know each other I bet??

IG-11!!!! Awww he’s being piloted (sorry IG-12)

Aw poor guy running from Grogu lol

IG-12 = Grogu’s Mando armor haha. This is a bad idea.

HE CAN SPEAK WITH IT HAHA

It’s like learning to ride a bike lol

“Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes—“

MEILOURUN

Yo wtf did they catch to eat I wanna know

They’re all so quiet yikes

Great Forge = hub okay good to know

Din ofc you’re going no one doubted that bitch

Koska!!!

Axe.

PAZ.

BAHA THE ARMORER. I don’t like what she and Bo have planned

Ooo the SW theme playing as they leave orbit

Bitch look at that fleet, look at Mandalore and CONCORDIA

why is Grogu in a copilot seat

Look at them all in the drop seats!!!!

Fucking rain lol

YESSSSSS DROP FROM THE SKY YOU CRAZ ARMORED WEIRDOS

everyone shaking their heads. Yeah that’s sad.

NOW we drop

Fucking sick

God I love Kom’rk fighters

Not the sped up clouds in the sky

I still can’t believe everything’s really GLASSED. That’s horrifying.

Hey uh where IS Gideon’s hideout + sector btw? And who did he have in those cloning pods?

SHIP? Bad ship good ship?

LAND SHIP

M- Mandalorians?

MANDALORIANS???

MANDALORIANS!!!!!

Nite owls awwwwwww

Bo… you surrendered…. I mean I can’t. Blame you. Now we know how the Darksaber got to Gideon. Last ditch effort to save Mandalore and it was glasses anyway. Ay…

“Mandalore has always been too powerful for any enemy to defeat. It is always our own division that destroys us.” And you’ve witness that so many times Bo. Ouch.

That shot of Din tho

This is a very Bo (tm) episode. She’s very Bo-Katan-ish here. I love it.

YEAH BOY THE HONOR AND INTEGRITY TALK. DIN PLEDGING HIS HONOR TO BO. HECK ELYEAH

I love their little land ship so much

GREAT FORGE ROAD TRIP HELL YEAH

I love that Grogu is now a mech operator

What’s on the other side of the storm waiting for them please don’t let the fleet be gone

Paz and Axe?? Playing chess??? Mando chess??

Axe shut your face hole. Don’t dig your own grave. Paz, you dramatic little shit. Why do I bet this fight is going to help tho? And ofc it’s Paz and Axe lol

Axe your trying to fight a human tank

GROGUUUUU

we love the child stopping the adults from fighting

“He didn’t learn that from me” TRUE AF. Fin you probably got into scuffs like that with Paz 24/7

W H AT IS GOING TO HAPPEN IN SPACE

I don’t like the suspense of getting back to the Gauntlet. It’s sketchy.

M- MYTHOSAUR???

Nope just another deadly thing that lives below Mandalore’s crust. SPACE DINOSAUR

Aw no the land ship!!

Further down? Into the crust with the monster that lives beneath the crust?? Oooo would not like that. I’d go but ooooo not a fan

Oo cool caverns

GREAT FORGE GREAT FORGE GREAT FORGE— this is heartbreaking actually.

Jet packs?? OH FUCK

So that means Gideon is on-planet those are his troopers

It’s BESKAR??

I love Paz’s blaster so much that thing is so good

Oh come on no “OYA MANDALORE”

Fuck that’s Gideon’s hideout

They’re going to try and exterminate them all on-planet. It’s a trap.

Oh fuck Gideon’s fleet. OH NO THE DOORS

AMBUSH

FLAMETHROWER

TRAP CHAMBER. OH NO.

DIN

ohhhhhhhhh you demagolka bitch you have no RIGHT!! Darth Vader copycat. Fuck you.

You have nooooo right to the bes’karta or that helmet or ANY OF THIS. Fuck you fir making Mandalore your base of operations Gideon oh my stars

“Mandalore will live on in me” shut the hell up

Beskar Dark Troopers fuck

Wait never mind fuck you even more your colonizing pos

YES YOU SHOULD HAVE KILLED HIM FUCK DIN SHOULD HAVE KILLED HIM ON THE LIGHT CRUISER BUT HE HAS TOO MUCH DAMN HONOR

FUCK YEAH BO USE THAT SABER LIKE YOU LEARNED FROM YOUR JEDI BUDDIES

PAZ

Paz fall back. Paz fall back. Paz. PAZ. PAZ NO. PAZ

Paz istg don’t die.

OH SHIT THE GUARDS

PAZ

Oh fuck you for ending it like that OF COURSE IT WAS JON AND DAVE ON THIS ONE

I am. Not okay.

Thoughts later not now. I am sad.

Fuck Gideon so, so much I hope Din and Bo kick your ass

#the mandalorion spoilers #the Mandalorian s3e7 #Mandalore #moff gideon #paz viszla #Star Wars #star wars the mandalorian

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harrylee94 · 2 years

Text

In the Footsteps of Luminous Beings - Chapter 35

You can also find this on AO3!

Summary: “Cobb!” Luke called when he spotted him, and he walked the last few steps to greet him with a hug. “It’s good to see you.”

“Good to see you too,” Cobb said as they pulled apart. “I see you managed to convince everyone I was at least worth hearing out.”

The young man sighed. “They’re not entirely convinced.”

Cobb waved him off. “If they had been, I would’a’ been worried. It’s good to know they know better than t’ trust any fool at their word.”

“It was my word,” Luke said.

“Like I said; any fool’s word.”

Notes: This is it! The end of the story! Thank you all so much for joining me on this journey; I hope you enjoyed!

TW for mentions of slavery

Chapter 34

——————————————————————

Epilogue

It had been a few weeks since those exciting days in space, travelling to other worlds, when the freighter came in to land outside of town. Din had stayed a week, gone for three, then come back again, and was planning on heading back out again when Cobb had received the message that the ship was coming from a number he’d started to wonder would never appear on his communicator.

There were no alarms when the ship settled into the sand, only a few startled banthas and excited whispers, and Cobb walked out to greet his guests,

The ramp lowered, and a few moments later a familiar figure appeared, albeit in paler clothing than last time they’d met. As soon as he stepped out onto the Sands Cobb knew he was raised here; it was in the way he held himself, how he spread his weight, ready for if the sand started to make its way out from beneath him. The folks who followed behind him, however, had not.

The woman who followed behind was wearing appropriate clothing, as was the young boy at her side, her hair braided and pinned to her head while the kid’s was cropped short, though not in the usual cut seen for boys his age on Tatooine. He also looked very serious, and seemed to be attempting to copy some of his mother’s poise. The man who eventually followed behind didn’t have any of that, and held himself with a perhaps too familiar confidence.

The Wookie was a surprise.

“Cobb!” Luke called when he spotted him, and he walked the last few steps to greet him with a hug. “It’s good to see you.”

“Good to see you too,” Cobb said as they pulled apart. “I see you managed to convince everyone I was at least worth hearing out.”

The young man sighed. “They’re not entirely convinced.”

Cobb waved him off. “If they had been, I would’a’ been worried. It’s good to know they know better than t’ trust any fool at their word.”

“It was my word,” Luke said.

“Like I said; any fool’s word,” Cobb said, and Luke huffed as the woman laughed.

“Only met you once and he’s already sussed you out,” she said, holding out her free hand as her brother pouted. “Leia.”

“Cobb Vanth,” he replied, taking the hand in a short, but firm shake, though his finger caught on a pin in her sleeve, then held out his other hand to the kid. “Nice to meet you.”

The boy looked surprised by the offer, glancing at his mother for guidance before taking it. “I’m Ben.”

Cobb had to quickly school his expression into a smile, the name catching him off guard. “Nice to meet you Ben.”

Ben stepped back when Cobb released his hand, still rightfully wary of him, only to whine in annoyance when the other new man came along and messed up his hair.

“Han Solo,” he said, his grip on Cobb’s hand tighter than necessary, and an obvious display of strength. A stupid one, but still, Cobb could give him this at least. “I hear you’ve been calling yourself Luke’s uncle.”

“Cuttin’ right to the chase I see,” Cobb said, making sure not to shake out his hand when Solo finally released it from his grip. “Aren’t you gonna introduce me to your friend first?”

“Han,” Leia hissed, then smiled back at Cobb. “This is Chewbacca.” The Wookie warbled a hello. “He’s been our friend for many years.”

“Welcome t’ Tatooine,” he said. ��Now, I hope you don’t mind, but word spreads faster ‘n a ronto round here, and I may’ve let it slip that the Hutt Slayer was comin’ t’ visit.”

Leia’s eyebrow rose. “‘Hutt Slayer’?”

“The town’s goin’ through a bit of a transitional stage, shall we say,” Cobb explained. “One of the things people’re thinkin’ of changing it the name; so far Freetown seems t’ be the most popular choice.”

Her eyes brightened in understanding. “Well, I suppose I could spare an hour or so.”

-o-o-o-

The kids were in bed now, tired out from a day playing in the sun and all the excitement from the impromptu celebration and welcome of a hero and her family. It might have taken them a little time to relax, and they had only had a few drinks, but eventually they had opened up, and they were smiling and laughing with everyone else, talking to half the town. Cobb was sure they already knew some of his most embarrassing stories, but now they were all back in his home, settled around the table.

Din was leaning in the doorway to the bedrooms just behind him, listening out for any noises that might come from the room their boys were sleeping in, curled up around each other on the bed, but in his full armour he did strike an imposing image, and Cobb noted how Han kept glancing at him, as he had since the moment they’d been introduced.

Cobb blew on his tea, allowing the drink to warm his hands as he took a sip. “I suppose you’ll want my story.”

“If you’re comfortable sharing it,” Leia said, kindly, the day having softened her initial disposition.

Cobb nodded, and he heard Din shift behind him, ready to support him. He had another sip of tea.

“I was born just over fifty years ago to a woman by the name of Shmi Skywalker,” he began. “Now, I don’t rightly remember where she came from, but I know she was born free. I was not so lucky, and neither was my brother.” He took note of how Leia stiffened at the mention of his twin and adjusted his story. “My mama named me Jacobi, after something from her home planet — I forget what exactly — and she protected us as best she could. She was very strong… but even she couldn’t protect me from the will of the Hutts.”

He took another sip of his tea.

“I was six, the first time I was sold. Thirteen the next, then fourteen… I was sold, then gambled away three times when I was seventeen, and after that I stopped keeping track. I never saw my family again.” Din’s hand fell on his shoulder, and he squeezed his fingers in thanks. “I was the unusual one, the rebel, the one who acted out. I used my reputation to protect others when I could, until I couldn’t take it anymore.

“I ran away, ‘bout twenty years ago now. Just got up an’ left. There was a chip in the back of my skull though, and it went off. Not sure how it worked, but… I prob’ly should’s died that day. But I didn’t.” He sighed, looking back up at his audience, each of them rapt with attention. “That was the first time I used the Force. Didn’t know what it was then, had to keep wand’rin’ a few more hours before I got any answers, and even then it was only in riddles.” He sent Luke a smirk. “Some kooky old wizard who lived out in the Wastes found me, took care o’ me ‘til I was well enough t’ make my own way again.”

Luke’s eyes grew wide. “Ben?”

Cobb nodded. “He showed me where you lived, told me you were the son of the brother he’d failed, that this was his task, to watch over you.” He shook his head. “Was one of the things we disagreed on; why would one kid matter so much more than all the slaves of Tatooine? Didn’t make any sense t’ me, so I let him do what he thought was right, and I took a stand against the Masters.

“Now, there’s a lot of things I did that I ain’t proud of in those years — I had a lot of anger in me then — but freeing those people, getting them home, somewhere safe, where they could live free lives… I will never regret that.”

Luke gasped. “You were the Red Ghost.”

Cobb hesitated, but eventually he nodded, all too aware of what the Masters had put on his wanted posters, half of it even true. “I made mistakes, got people killed, a lot o’ them in one occasion. Ben found me that time, helped me through the aftermath, to understand what was happening, pulled me back from an edge I wasn’t even aware was there. Wasn’t long after that I came here, became Marshal and protector of the town.”

“You are well respected here,” Leia said. “Your people look up to you.”

“And your Mando friend here,” Solo added, still clearly unnerved by Din’s presence. “Haven’t heard him come into the story yet.”

Cobb smirked. “Well, after I freed the town from an invasion with thanks to some Mandalorian armour I traded off some Jawas—” he sent Din a look over his shoulder, and he was visibly cowed, “—Mando here showed up looking for Mandalorians. Instead he got me and a deal; I give him the armour if he help us with the krayt dragon problem.”

“That would be the creature the rib bones in the cantina belonged to,” Leia said.

“The very same.”

His niece hummed, looking up at Din. “I’m told you were swallowed by it before blowing it up from the inside.”

“That’s true,” Din replied.

She smirked. “You’ll have to tell me what that’s like.”

“Wet,” Din replied, then a few moments later added; “And warm.”

Solo snorted, but kept quiet when Din looked at him. Cobb had to fight not to let his amusement show, though Leia showed no such compunction.

“I take it you met Luke soon after that,” Leia said, and Cobb nodded “Yes, my brother might have mentioned your little escapade on an Imperial cruiser.”

“Not something I’d normally do,” Cobb said, “but then I’d probably do just about anythin’ to make sure that kid’s safe.”

“I know the feeling,” Leia said, eyes slipping past them both to the corridor. “I hope you know that we’ll be visiting again… Uncle.”

Cobb blinked at her. “You believe me?”

“I may have done a DNA test to confirm things just after we met,” she said. “I just… I wanted to see what kind of person you were, before I said anything.”

Cobb recalled their handshake, how he’d thought he’d been caught by a pin, but it seemed his niece was sneakier than he’d realised. He could hardly blame her, but the continued secrecy throughout the day… “You were afraid I’d be like my brother.”

Leia looked sadly at him, but there was no guilt in her gaze. “Please understand; that man did many terrible things, things that I can never forgive. If there was even a chance you were like him…”

“You would have left and never come back,” Cobb said with an understanding smile, holding his hand out across the table, open for her to take it, which she did almost immediately. “I am grateful for the time you’ve given me, and if you choose never t’ come back here, then I’ll count my blessings and leave it at that.”

She smiled. “Which is why we will be returning.”

Cobb felt his heart swell; he couldn’t have heard anything sweeter.

-o-o-o-

“How long will you be gone?”

Din shrugged, tying his pack to the back of his speeder. “This lead has been the most promising yet,” he said instead. “I have to follow it.”

Cobb nodded. Din had been looking for the remnants of his people for the best part of four months, and each lead he’d followed had only ever led him to a dead end. Every time he returned more despondent than the last, and more determined that the next lead would be the one to lead him to them. It hurt to watch, but Cobb knew this was something he had to do. “I hope you find them.”

Din paused in his packing, turning back to Cobb and crowding into his space, pressing his helmeted brow to Cobb’s as he held the back of his neck. Grogu, held in CObb’s arms between them, cooed as Cobb sighed, leaning into the touch.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve your kindness,” Din said, “but I am more grateful than words can express.”

“I’ll always be here for you, darlin’,” Cobb said, squeezing his arm. “Door’s always open.”

Din remained in place for a few moments more before pulling away, taking the kid in hand and settling him carefully on the back of the speeder with his bags. He swung his leg over the seat without any other warning, but waited, allowing Cobb to say goodbye to his boy.

“Ret'urcye mhi,” he said, then pulled away, heading off into the desert.

Cobb watched after him for a time, but headed back to work before he was out of sight. He’d see him again, sooner or later, and when he did he’d welcome him with open arms.

——————————————————————

Once again a huge thank you to everyone for reading and commenting! You're all amazing!

Next story is bound to start forming in the next few weeks, but until then... Farewell!

Chapter 1

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vanishedangels · 2 years

Text

First wound of pride

Summary: Din Djarin was once a son, he was once a foundling. He is a mandalorian now, a father and a king. This is his journey.

Pairing: Din Djarin/Paz Vizsla.

Relationships: Din Djarin & The Armorer, Din Djarin & Grogu.

Characters: Din Djarin, Paz Vizsla, The Armorer (aka Verdandi), Jano Prima (OC), Svart (OC).

Rating: M (+18)

Warnings: Descriptions of PTSD, anxiety.

Tags: Canon Compliant, Coming of Age, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Friends To Lovers, Lovers To Enemies, Enemies To Lovers, Identity Crisis, BAMF Din Djarin, Human Disaster Paz Vizsla, Smut.

Chapters: 1/8

Navigation: Next Chapter ->

Excerpt:

A droid. His nightmare standing in front of him in the flesh.

"No droids." He said slightly shaking, his breath coming uneven.

"What did you say, rookie?" The instructor leaned forward, his visor scrutinizing Din's face.

"I said no droids." Din retorted through gritted teeth.

Chapter 1: Heart of glass

The sounds of blasting and screams of horror were haunting his dreams every time he closed his eyes. He often woke up covered in cold sweat, crying in pain as his heart ripped in half.

Every time he looked around only to find the other foundlings shushing him, Jano was the one running towards his bunk, soothing him by using kind words, holding him in the dark.

Din was twelve years old when he was rescued by a child of the watch and he was now a foundling. Their days consisted in training and working as a community, they learned about providing, harvesting, cooking, repairing machinery.

He would use his chores in order to forget, to put his mind at ease. Fortunately, Jano was there, they became close, he was Din's anchor, he liked to pretend the boy was his brother. The brother he never had.

When the foundlings turned fourteen, they were send to the fighting corps. Din and Jano were excited, Jano laid down on Din's bed next to him.

"I can't believe it! We're gonna become mandalorians, Din." He said staring at the ceiling. "Kriffing finally!"

Din chuckled looking at his friend's face, he looked so happy, his green eyes brighter than ever. "Yeah, I'm glad we're going together."

He closed his eyes, resting his hand on his stomach, in two days they were leaving. Din felt like a grown man, the galaxy was waiting for him, nothing would stop him. Nothing.

They were received by a group of mandalorians. Din walked inside the barracks carefully close to Jano. The fighting corps hid his facilities underground, the air felt dense and humid, the dim light of candles wrapping bodies covered in beskar.

The foundlings were standing in front of them, a mandalorian in black armour greeted them, inviting the group to sat down at the long tables, Din looked at Jano nervous, his eyes pleading him to stay close. Jano nodded.

They sat next to each other as a group of older kids started serving tiingilar. Din looked up at the boy handing him off a bowl. He was tall and broad, with dark hair, brown eyes and tanned skin.

When Din took the bowl from his hand, the boy locked eyes with him, Din pressed his lips together avoiding his gaze, fixing his eyes on the tiingilar.

Jano received his bowl and waited until the boy walked away to asked Din "What was that?"

Din frowned and shook his head, still staring down "What was what?"

He elbowed Din "Come on, vod, I know you, you looked like a tooka kitten when this guy looked at you."

Din shrugged "He was so big." He said absentmindedly.

Jano bursted into laughter, Din flinched hushing him "Shut up, vod!"

Din could feel his face going warmer, stupid Jano.

"Yes, he's so big." Jano composed himself, "Did you see those arms? I'm dying to get as ripped as that guy. That's the training, vod, imagine us in a couple of years."

Din chuckled nodding, yes, he noticed those arms but unlike Jano, he wasn't thinking about the training, he was a little ashamed since that didn't cross his mind. The only thing he registered was how handsome the big boy was.

That was new. He had never thought about any person in those terms before. He looked around, his eyes searching, the boy was two tables away, still handing round the tiingilar.

Later that evening, the foundlings were gathered in a training room, three mandalorians explained to them how things worked in the fighting corps. Then they walked the kids towards the barracks rooms.

"Make groups of six people and choose a bunk, that's going to be your room for the next four years." A mandalorian called Sju said to them.

Din couldn't sleep that night, Jano was cuddling up against him. His mind was parsecs away, he closed his eyes remembering his father's voice, his mother's eyes, and the look of horror on their faces the last time he saw them.

He cried in silence, still mourning them. Life wasn't fair, he learned that at a tender age.

The next morning a group of kids entered the room, Din sat onto the mattress swiftly, Jano was rubbing sleep from his eyes, his head against Din's chest, he narrowed his eyes clutching Din's t-shirt.

Din widened his eyes when he saw that the big boy was one of the guys waking them up. He stared at Din and Jano, his eyebrows lifting, he seemed surprised. He walked in Din's bunk direction.

He rested his elbows on the mattress crossing his arms, since Din's bunk was the top one. "Did you sleep together, cuties?" He asked and Din's heart skipped a beat.

Jano let go of Din, Din knew he wouldn't take this guy's shit "Yeah, we had wild sex all night long, the other four guys joined us." He shrugged one shoulder pointing at their roommates, the older boys laughed at his boldness.

The big boy chuckled "No need to be that wary, little one." He moved his eyes to glance at Din "What about you, cyar'ika, are you wary too?"

Din blinked at him, feeling something warm nesting in his stomach at the affectionate term the boy used to address him "I'm even worse. What are you doing here?" He tried not to show the way this guy was making him feel and he was also desperate to impress him.

"We are waking the rookies up, it's part of our training, now dress and come to get some breakfast." A blonde girl retorted.

Din nodded, he was ready to leave his bed after Jano when he felt a touch on his knee, he froze locking eyes with the big boy again, but this time he didn't break eye contact with him.

"What's your name, sweetheart?" The boy asked almost whispering.

Din pretended that it was a secret between them and his breathing was going faster at the thought. "Din Djarin." He said under his breath relishing in the boy's attention "What's yours?" He asked gingerly.

The boy chuckled sending shivers down Din's spine "Paz Vizsla."

Din smiled taken aback by this boy, Paz. "How old are you?"

Paz raised his eyebrows smirking "Sixteen."

Din gasped "And you look like that?" He squeezed his eyes shut when he realized how eager he sounded.

Paz squeezed his knee gently, laughing, Din found that captivating "How do I look, Din?"

Kriff! The boy saying his name for the first time made his head spin. His voice was as deep as his brown eyes, Din couldn't handle it.

"So bulky." He answered noticing his cheeks burning.

The boy, Paz, closed his eyes, fluttering his eyelashes "I hope you like that." He withdrew his hand from Din's knee and turned around. Din's eyes were fixed on his broad shoulders.

He stayed there until Jano called for him "Come on, Din, we're getting late."

Din rubbed his knees with his hands, still processing what had happened a minute ago. It was real, a boy touched him an he felt electricity between them. A magnetic pull that he couldn't avoid even if he wanted.

When they were walking down the corridor, Jano touched his shoulder "I can't believe big guy flirted with you, vod."

"What's flirt?" He asked sincerely.

The snort that escaped his friend's mouth made him frown. "You know that thing Svart does whenever Verdandi is around him?"

Verdandi was one of the most respected members of the tribe, she was known as The Armorer. Svart was the mandalorian that rescued Din when his home village on Aq Vetina fell under the separatists droid forces' attack.

Everybody knew that Verdandi and Svart had an on and off secret relationship, still they weren't clan, the reasons, unknown.

Din was still thinking about Jano's words in regard to Paz' acting when their instructor started talking "This is your first training class, you have already been trained in hand-to-hand combat."

The man was sporting a white and green armour. Din was dying to get his own beskar, even when he knew he couldn't remove his helmet in front of others ever again.

"Today you're gonna learn how to fight in groups, show me your strategies. No vibroknifes, no blasters, only you and your bodies."

Din looked around, the rest of the kids started making distressed noises, to be honest, Din was feeling uneasy already. Jano took his hand in his own, they were sitting on the floor, legs crossed "We can do this."

"I need four of you, come to the arena. Come on, quick!" The mandalorian in charge said.

Jano tilted his head towards the arena, smiling, his green eyes full of excitement "We should go first!"

Din frowned "Alright. Let's kill it!"

When they stood up, three other kids did the same, the instructor dismissed one of them.

"Very well, you are gonna show us how you work as a team." The instructor pointed at a training droid as the unit started approaching the group with heavy steps.

Din zoned out, flashes of a war zone, his village blowing up into pieces, his parents telling him to hide. "We love you, son." the last words he heard before a big droid stood in front of him, ready to kill him.

A droid. His nightmare standing in front of him in the flesh.

"No droids." He said slightly shaking, his breath coming uneven.

"What did you say, rookie?" The instructor leaned forward, his visor scrutinizing Din's face.

"I said no droids." Din retorted through gritted teeth.

"This droid is part of your training, you're going to face droids even more lethal that this one, this one is a close combat droid, it's almost harmless." The mandalorian shook his head in disapproval.

Din started to feel tears pricking his eyes, the instructor leaned back "Your blood pressure is getting high, rookie, are you blinking back tears?"

At that very moment Din heard chuckles and laughs coming from his comrades, his stomach clenched, his heart was pounding fast and his chest was tight "I can't breathe, sir." Din replied feeling dizzy.

The last thing he felt was his instructor holding him by his armpits, hauling him to his feet. "On your feet verd'ika!" Din grabbed his vambraces feebly. And then, everything went black.

Din blinked slowly adjusting his eyes, he moved his hand finding his friend's leg, he hummed trying to sit onto the mattress.

"Don't." Jano said pressing a hand on his chest. "How do you feel?"

He looked up at Jano's face, the boy was sitting next to him in his bunk "What happened?"

"You blacked out, Din. Are you alright?"

"Kriff." He closed his eyes moving his head to the other side, avoiding Jano "What a cream puff..."

"Hey! Don't you dare talking like that about yourself!" Jano scolded him.

Din groaned "The droid, the fucking droid, vod, he got inside my head."

"I know."

"How are you, rookie?" Din flinched when he realized his instructor was standing next to his bunk.

He cleared his throat "I'm okay, sir, I've never been better." Din chuckled trying to charm his way through the situation.

The man snorted out a laugh "Alright verd'ika, now move, the showers are closing in ten minutes, go, take a shower, you already missed the dinner. Don't miss shower time too."

The shower room was empty, Din sat down on the bench, he was taking his boots off when he heard steps approaching the entrance.

He lifted his head, hands still on the fasteners of his brown boots. Four older comrades came close to him, they stood in front of Din blocking his way.

"Look who's here guys, the no-droids' kid." A boy with dark hair and blue eyes said, resting his hands on his hips.

"Oh, sweet little boy, first training day and you're already shitting on your pants." Another said leaning forward, his dark eyes piercing.

Din's eyes shifted between them. He felt his blood boiling "Go away, I need to shower, go the kriff away!"

"Oh, he's bold, didn't know you had it in you, snowflake." The dark haired guy reached out to touch his head.

Din dodged his hand and grabbed his wrist, he stood up tightening his grip around it.

The guy frowned, almost showing confusion. "Hey, I thought you said he was a wimpy kid." Said a guy behind them.

"Get off me, asshole." The dark haired guy said pressing a hand around Din's throat as they started tussling.

Din felt a sharp pain in his stomach, he realized someone had kicked him while he was lying on the floor, still fistfighting with the dark haired guy.

A howl escaped his mouth, when suddenly the dark haired guy was yanked away. Din looked up only to find Paz grabbing the guy by the nape of his neck. His face close to his "I'm gonna pretend this didn't happen, our superiors won't know about this, but if you touch this rookie again, I will kriffing report you!"

The guy gasped grimacing. "Let me go, Paz."

"Not until you say you understood." He retorted, his jaw clenching.

The dark haired guy nodded closing his eyes. Paz let him go and the four of them were rushing to exit the showers.

Din was groaning on the floor, propping himself up on one elbow, Paz offered him his hand, Din stared at him for a while and then he shoved his hand, Paz chuckled when he saw Din standing up by himself.

"Stubborn." The big boy said with a pleasant expression.

Din rolled his shoulders, lifting his chin up "I didn't need your help, I can take care of myself." He said feeling his ego bruised.

"I know you can, but, Din, they had you four to one." Paz maintained the distance between them.

"I like those odds." He said and he sounded like a brat.

Paz chuckled again in that delicious deep voice and Din felt a little less ashamed "Promise me you would never come here alone. Ever again."

Din nodded, he noticed the dimples on Paz' face when he smiled and he was tempted to put a finger on every one of them.

"I'm serious, I don't know what are you doing here by yourself, but next time, just don't. Ask your boyfriend to stay with you, the first days here could be a bitch, you know." He said walking Din to the barracks rooms.

Boyfriend?

Din was trying to learn by heart every detail about the boy next to him, the colour of his skin, the way his chest moved when he talked, his mind was too busy to correct Paz, and if he wanted to believe Jano was his boyfriend, maybe he could take advantage of that.

"Good night, Din." Paz said resting his arm on the room's door frame.

Din was enamoured with the sight. He nodded, staring down, avoiding Paz' massive chest on display. "Night, Paz." He said entering the room.

Din climbed up to his bunk, Jano was already sleeping in the lower one. His body was sore, his ego bruised and his heart broken.

Din stared at the ceiling thinking about his parents, he prayed for strength, he really wanted this, he really wanted to be a mandalorian.

He felt the emptiness consuming him until he fell asleep.

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