#the way they right tension... the atmosphere... good lord

[spigosaur]

No matter how good or bad Doctor Who is ever gonna get again, there will never be an episode better than series 4 episode 10: "Midnight". It's the episodification of perfection: It has perfect pacing, an amazing score that's really creating a scary atmosphere and extreme tension, the acting is fantastic - especially from David Tennant who's perfectly portraying the Doctor's fear and powerlessness, increasing the tension even further during the climax, and Lesley Sharp who not only proves impressive skills by having had to memorise everyone's lines and speak them perfectly synchronised but who also managed to give the creature this uncanny eeriness which is further amplified by the fantastic sound mix.

I love how not a single character is portrayed as bad or evil, just scared and irrational. And at the same time, while some characters - especially Jethro and Dee Dee - are clearly more likeable than others - Jethro's parents and the professor - no character is constantly right and everyone makes decisions or says things that the more knowledgeable audience probably disagrees with. "Midnight" isn't about a morally wrong villain, it's a comment on human nature and how under the right circumstances the most ordinary people are capable of extreme and immoral behaviour. It's basically lord of the flies but way better!

I could keep rambling about the cinematography and the amazing ending that really makes you feel the trauma the Doctor has experienced on this adventure and the beautiful design of the planet and so much more because really everything is perfect about this episode and I love it so! so! much! I've watched "Midnight" more often than any other Doctor Who episode and yet I still can't get myself to look away from the screen for a single second whenever I rewatch it because - again - it is the perfect episode!

tl;dr: I love Doctor Who series 4 episode 10 "Midnight" because it's the most perfect episode of all perfect episodes ever no I'm not exaggerating

[mageknight14]

Nagi and Beat: What it Means to be Empathetic

One thing I really appreciate about Nagi and Beat's characterizations and dynamic in NEO TWEWY is how the game portrays them as the two of the most emotionally mature and empathetic party members in the game and how they express that maturity in distinct but equally important ways.

Let's start this analysis off with Nagi. The game makes a point to show off multiple times that she’s in-tune when it comes to others’ emotions. Take the side quest with Buddy Rapids on Week 2 Day 4, for example.

When he flips out over not receiving a glass of water from Ken Doi and everyone is flabbergasted by how he reacted, Nagi actually takes the time to empathize with and explain why he would feel that way, that he probably felt unwelcome or deliberately provoked.  She literally absorbs emotions of others like a sponge, to her own detriment. She has this ability, knows it, knows how to work with it, but she can’t exactly turn it off. It gets to the point that an overwhelming burst of negative emotion from the people around her can cause her to emotionally break down, as we see from when she reacts to how the citizens are suffering from Shibuya Syndrome.

She analyses people and feels them whether she wants it or not, and due to being a combination of simultaneously open minded and very direct, those not true to themselves strike her as very wrong, in the wrong, or plain bizarre, as we can see from how coldly she treats Motoi and Fret at first. She’s true to herself, and to others, and someone not reciprocating on the same level is a bad thing in her book.

She suffers from hyperempathy and easily 'taps in' to what people are feeling, but she can struggle with finding the appropriate channel through which to express her feelings, such as her initial coldness towards Fret. Because of this, besides her infatuation with Sho, she’s fairly passive towards the group dynamic and synergy at first, instead to either gush about her beloved Lord Tomononami, EleStra, or both. This is especially notable when tensions start to rise between Rindo and Fret at the beginning of Week 2 and she can do nothing but weakly comment at the tense atmosphere in the air. 

However, as we get to see throughout the game, she begins to lighten up towards Fret and if you look closely at how she interacts with him, she progressively becomes less outright insulting towards him and more distant and hesitant once she puts together than he might actually have a reason to be putting up a front. By the time week 3 rolls around she's not insulting him at all, actually engaging in convos with him because she's realized that Fret is a genuinely good person who acts fake as a coping mechanism. Most of this realization starts showing up during week 2 because Fret gets stressed enough by the situation they're in to let the "mask" slip on multiple occasions— you can see that Nagi's expression changes when her portrait is present during these instances because she starts to put it together. 

While her arc isn’t as pronounced as the others, it’s still there nonetheless and revolves around her learning that she does not need to dismiss people right away and look past the surface, exploring in learning how to nuance so to speak. To cap it off, by the time week 3 comes around, she actively steps up to the plate more than once to help the others sort out their issues and integrates more into the group, truly embracing her role as the team mom, as seen as when she helps the other characters cope with their own issues on Week 3 Day 5. 

Now, let’s contrast this with Beat. While he isn’t as academically intelligent as Nagi, can be slow on the uptake, and not really keen on using his head, he still gets a few good hits in and has a cutting-the-knot way of problem solving that is as much a positive as a negative quality. 

In the first game, he calls out Konishi, who is presented as very smart, on her "unforeseen circumstances", and for someone mixing words a lot, he used those surprisingly straight and deliberately angers her so that she can focus on him while Neku snags Rhyme underneath her notice. He feels that the game is "whack" in NEO and is the first to call out Kubo against it and be suspicious of him while the others just found him sleazy and hatable ("might ask gramps some questions"), fairly quickly discerns that Fret and Rindo were at odds concerning the decision of trusting Kanon or not and that they needed to sort it out, and even recognizes Fret’s grief concerning Kanon herself and opts to let him have one last moment of hope and get some closure on the whole thing rather than just letting him bottle up these feelings in a negative manner forever.

I’d say that while Beat may not be academically smart, can often takes things at face value and can be considered dense at times, he is emotionally incredibly intelligent, even if not in the same way as Nagi: both are highly receptive to others’ moods and feelings, but while Nagi processes them with her heart and brains, Beat processes them with his heart and guts. 

Conversely, while Nagi suffers from her hyperempathy and can struggle with finding the appropriate channel through which to express her feelings, Beat intuitively 'taps in' to what people are feeling and also intuitively 'taps in' to what he can say to cheer people up or to motivate them to keep moving forward, as shown when he inspires the group to keep going forward even when things get dire at the beginning of Week 3 Day 4. 

Nagi stumbles butt-over-head into people’s psyches and while she has a good grasp on the information and psychology, being excellent at reading people, she doesn’t have the means of transforming that into a pleasant interaction if things are at odds. Beat, however meets people partway, at middle ground, or if he senses that he needs to, goes all the way to drag them out of their shell. He doesn’t embarrass himself with the unnecessary, as he doesn’t like to beat around the bush but also seems to think that people do have their own reasons of acting the way they do. To solve the problem, you address the problem, politeness and other fioritures can wait (which, again, is as much a positive quality as a negative one). Nagi has more tact with it because she can sense when things will go on the fritz, and because she’s more actively trying to get along with people than Beat. Even when giving the cold shoulder, she still has restrains (it takes a breaking point to call someone a "degenerate ape") and at worst ignores what bothers her, or makes it clear. Beat, on the other hand, would directly hop to 'I don’t like you, yo' and show scathing hostility, as he does with Sho and Coco who, in contrast to Kariya, Uzuki, and Shoka, are not at all apologetic when it comes to their actions and still antagonize him, in which he responds back in kind. You wrong him or his friends, you’re on his shit list, period.

This difference is seen most predominantly when the Wicked Twisters meet up with Sho again. Beat is immediately hostile thanks to his previous encounters with Sho in the first game and is ready to assume the worst of him, unaware of the shared history Rindo, Nagi, and Fret have with Sho at this point. And when Sho seemingly validates his concerns by attacking him and his friends, he's ready to write him off entirely. And it's not like Sho even cares about what Beat thinks of him to try and correct him afterwards.

Nagi, on the other hand, immediately notices that something is off about Sho compared to when he allied with the team in the first week and picks up that it may be Noise-related. And sure enough, she turns out to be correct. Sho had been absorbing Rindo's Dissonance Noise while he was away and when he absorbs a whole bunch at once, his mind gets overwhelmed and he goes berserk, attacking the Wicked Twisters in the process. Sure enough, when Neku quite literally beats some sense into him after he was already worn down by the team, Sho doesn't antagonize them at all whatsoever. and even gives them cryptic advice concerning the storm that's coming their way later.

To put it into perspective, Nagi is receiving all channels 100% of the time and as such had to define herself strongly against them to hear her own, affirming her personality and being very direct. It’s a radio always on that she can just tune out somewhat, but not turning it off. And if things get too overwhelming, she can take too much of that negative energy into herself and become severely affected herself if she doesn't have an immediate outlet. It's why she flips out at Rindo when she first meets as she was already unintentionally channeling the emotions of others and was being harassed by the DRS team beforehand and her missing the special EleStra pin was essentially the straw that broke the camel's back.

Beat, in contrast can hop from channel to channel and tune in on people, but only a few of his choosing at a time. Hence why he’s more receptive of a variety of different people, if they are amicable to him. He instantly hits it off with Fret, wholesomely accepts Nagi, even reaches out to Rindo who’s more unsure and shy (seen in the day after recruiting him as he’s the first to come up to him to see if things are okay), wholeheartedly accepts Shoka in the team and develops quite the protective streak for her among the rest (seen when he warns Susukichi about taking her after Ayano’s passing). He’s the big brother all the way. Compare this to how he reacted to Neku and Shiki in TWEWY, where he welcomes the latter at first after apologizing to the duo for mistaking them as Reapers but immediately takes a justified dislike to the former because Neku was kind of being a huge prick at the time. 

I think all of this is incredibly interesting in how the writers go about in portraying that nuances of what it means to be empathetic and emotionally mature and it just goes to show how much the TWEWY team cared about detailing the psychology and mindset of each character in a way that makes them all the more real.

And as a side note, I really appreciate Nagi and Beat’s dynamic. Rather than have them conflict as they could have so easily done (the athletic, skateboarding musclehead and the nerdy educated woman) the game has them genuinely enjoying one another's maturity and working to support the rest of the team, with Nagi even patiently translating anything she needed to of her dialogue for Beat's sake, as well as draw comparisons between the way Nagi treats Beat and Fret to foreshadow her issues with the latter and I think that's just neat.

[ioddgirl]

Do you guys pair the Slasher/Monster with the final girl?

As a horror fan, I did. And I've come to wonder if there's something wrong with me. Since ordinary people don't would do that, nor would that cross their minds

And the fact is that, at certain moments, there is a weird tension between the antagonist and the protagonist. Have you felt it too? Is that tension planned? Or do we only see it?

Well, I think I have the answer. The truth seems to me that the writers do it intentionally. I think they are inspired by gothic/dark romance

It's a modern way of narrating such stories. You know, the popular "beauty and the beast" concept

● But, What's dark/gothic romance?

Dark romance: Dark romance is a lot like how it sounds--romance novels with darker themes, with mature content for adult readers. Dark romance novels often come with content warnings, and they can explore BDSM, role playing, abduction, rape fantasies, and kidnapping and captivity

The "hero" is usually an inflicter of most if not all of that. There is a huge audience for it, but no matter how tortured or "justified" the "hero" is, I just can't get past it to see him as redeemable or loveable in any way.

Gothic romance: Characterized by a dark, foreboding atmosphere and outlandish, sometimes grotesque, characters and events, gothic fiction has flourished and branched off into many different subgenres in the centuries since its creation.

Female leads would come to dominate gothic romance, especially after the publication of Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre in 1847. A young woman struggling to maintain her independence as she falls for a dark, brooding, handsome man

● How would the basic concepts be interpreted in slasher movies?.

"The Distressed Heroine: Typically, the lead of a Gothic Romance is a woman attempting to figure out what is right for her heart, and what society expects of her. She will usually have a force, often an overprotective father, standing between her and her love, though she, or someone else, will find a way around him. Regardless of whether the story is inp first or third person, we experience terror alongside her and are meant to empathize with her"

The Distressed Heroine would clearly be The Final Girl. She who at first seems to be an innocent and harmless girl to become an independent and strong girl, defeating the monster...

"The Byronic Hero: Named after the Romantic poet Lord Byron, the Byronic hero is what led to the creation of the antihero. There are aspects of the Byronic hero that aren’t positive, yet the characters are written in such a way as to make it impossible to hate them, even after they do something horrendous. Some qualities of the Byronic hero include: violent temper, seductive nature, cynical, sinister secret or desire, prideful, moody, and revengeful. On the flip side, they are often capable of deep, strong affection, have a tortured soul crying out for compassion, and are viewed as solitary, suffering beings wanting love. A good way to describe the Byronic hero is as a fallen angel"

The Byronic Hero would be the Slasher/Assassin/Monster. It's true that most don't want to be heroes on purpose, if they eliminate what they consider evil or impure, kill a meen boy or girl or an abusive person. In most cases they kill innocent people. But there is no denying that many of them were abused or bullied as children

"Secondary Love Interest: Often, there is another character complicating the situation, forming a love triangle with the heroine and hero. This secondary love interest can be for the heroine, often seen as a kind gentleman she has known since childhood, or for the hero, often seen as a sinister seductress"

There is not much to say, the typical guy who has an interest in the final girl. Or he will be a potential partner or couple. On many occasions, he helps the final girl defeat the monster, or ends up killed by him

▪ Also, [slashers] film presents us in startlingly direct terms with a world in which male and female are desperate odds... But in which, at the same time, masculinity and femininity are more states of mind than body. Whatever their souls are made of, she and he are the same...

What do you think?

[magicalgirlagency]

WBMR for Bayonetta, please? If you know, you know.

Sadly, yes I do know. And I have my two cents to share on matter:

For starters, NO, they didn't "made Bayonetta straight". Bi/pan people exist, and we'd appreciate if y'all stopped erasing our existence all the time. Wanna be disappointed at the narrative choices? You can go right ahead and whine for as long as you like; just don't go spreading fake news like that.

People are upset because the revelation was a predictable easy-way-out of things that invalidates Bayo's relationship with Jeanne. Long Story Short: Queerbait. And before anyone comes with the argument that "BayoJeanne was never confirmed in canon, so it can't be considered queerbait", may I remind you that Bayo grows attached to her after regaining her memories, and she travels through HELL to save her despite Rodin's protests, that both of them were confirmed to live together, and THIS OFFICIAL ARTWORK OF BLOODY FATE:

Good Lord, you can cut the sexual tension here with scissors!

Like, Luka is cute, but Bayo's waaaaaay out of his league. Literally. Even Hideki Kamiya himself confirmed that she'd never involve with him romantically becuase he would end up dead long before she would, and the witch teases him constantly because she finds him annoying. The Trivia section on the series' Wiki says:

"She [Bayonetta] teases Luka; like a toy, but will never commit, he'd die long before her."

So, not only Bayo3's ending is queerbait-y, but it also reeks of Retcon and Character Assassination.

Basically, people have collectively chosen to ignore Bayo3 because the revelation was dumb and makes no sense, and Luka doesn't have the same chemistry that Jeanne has with our beloved Umbra Witch.

Guess Kamiya-san lost his marbles after blocking too many people on Twitter, huh. Wouldn't be surprised if he ruined his own series on purpose because of that (and don't get me started on the whole Hellena Taylor scandal).

Plus, I've heard that the story of Bayo3 touches upon the Multiverse Theory (like almost everything else on the market as of late), so if this is the path we're taking, I'm entering the ring, and grabbing a steel chair to beat canon to death with. There's no third Bayonetta game, folks; only a third Splatoon game.

Without any further ado, let's welcome this Queen to Wondaria:

Bayonetta/Cereza is now, Umbra Madame Bayo, S-Rank Magi, Assigned Gemstone is Phantom Amethyst, Essence is Darkness;

Her mascot/familiar is a white cat named Jeanne, after her beloved rival;

After discovering an universe where she marries Luka, she mysteriously disappears in shame and disgust, aiming to start anew somewhere else;

She then opens a mercenary agency in the kingdom of Arcadia with a group of flamboyant arcadian artists, with the occasional additional of a modelling side-gig;

Bayo is semi-retired. While she's running away from her old life, she doesn't plan on stop dancing so soon;

Is a history nerd who loves to collect ancient and intricate jewelry, specially ones with butterflies and roses;

As expected, she has several admirers. Most of them are queer women with anxiety who find her comforting;

Becomes the wondarian equivalent of Batman, with how many pupils she takes under her wing;

Bayo personally thinks that Wondaria's bouncy atmosphere clashes with her style, but she has already made herself comfortable, and people are instantly enchanted by her;

As a Magi, Bayo goes on to study about the Multiverse Theory, search for a new Universe, and live a life with no regrets.

[bambiesque]

New thread for TBaker!Doctor:

Serial: Robot - Great introduction to Four with lot of nice callbacks to Three's regeneration. I really enjoyed the story and Sarah not having to scream all the time. I'm glad they let a woman be a full-on bad guy for a change.

Serial: The Ark in Space - I like Harry and Sarah's dynamic. A really great story with good pacing. No notes.

Serial: The Sontaran Experiment - I love each serial moving into the next rather than just stand-alone stories. Still love the Sontarans.

Serial: Genesis of the Daleks - Davros! What I especially liked about this one was the Daleks turning on him at the end. Not so much a moment of realisation that you're wrong, as a moment of realisation that you're a massive bloody idiot.

Serial: Revenge of the Cybermen - They really went all out this year didn't they? Daleks and Cybermen, back to back. The Cybermen story was slightly less compelling but I did enjoy TBaker!Doctor yelling about Harry being an idiot.

Serial: Terror of the Zygons - I have missed the Brig and Benton. The Zygons look great. Once again the visual effects for "Nessie" let it down but otherwise good.

Serial: Planet of Evil - Sarah has done a lot of screaming this story. It is a creepy one though so I can't really blame her.

Serial: The Pyramids of Mars - Fantastic story. Funny, a bit creepy, a bit sad. Sarah is awesome.

Serial: The Android Invasion - Silly fun. I quite like everyone's weird doppelgangers and the creepy fake English village. It was nice seeing Benton and Harry one last time.

Serial: The Brain of Morbius - There's a running joke in my family that this was the serial to watch if my mum wanted to fall asleep. And I completely understand that desire.

Serial: The Seeds of Doom - The first part of the story was great. I liked the isolated location and the slowly building tension - and how serious the Doctor was. I think overall though it went on a bit too long.

Serial: The Masque of Mandragora - I enjoyed the first couple of episodes but it trailed off quickly.

Serial: The Hand of Fear - Goodbye, Sarah Jane. I will miss you. I understand your wish to stop being brainwashed every other episode however.

Serial: The Deadly Assassin - The Master is back! I love stories on Gallifrey. I love the Time Lords. I love the Doctor's history.

Serial: The Face of Evil - Hello, Leela. You're awesome right from the start. I enjoyed the story, particularly the Doctor's face on the side of the mountain.

Serial: The Robots of Death - Fantastic story. I am a little annoyed at the way TBaker!Doctor talks to Leela sometimes. The Doctor hasn't talked to anyone like that since Hartnell!Doctor.

Serial: The Talons of Weng-Chiang - I think I'd have enjoyed it more if it wasn't for all the racism.

Serial: Horror at Fang Rock - Lovely atmosphere. Great supporting cast. Nice creepy vibes. I love this one.

Serial: The Invisible Enemy - Innerspace, Doctor Who style. Not nearly as much fun as it should have been, sadly. We get K9 though!

Serial: Image of the Fendahl - Wanda Ventham, we love to see you. Nice and creepy, if a bit long.

Serial: The Sun Makers - A nice bit of political commentary about a society that cares more about money than people, but not one of the best.

Serial: Underworld - The Quest is the Quest. I really enjoyed the first episode and then it trailed off in the middle. The last episode was fun though.

Serial: The Invasion of Time - Goodbye Leela. I liked you but you deserved better than this Doctor being a dick to you. Goodbye K9. I love you.

Serial: The Ribos Operation - Romana! Never trust gimmicky gadgets, says the man with the sonic screwdriver.

Serial: The Pirate Planet - Absolutely bonkers. What did I even watch?

Serial: The Stones of Blood - I really enjoyed this one. Mostly because Professor Rumford is fantastic, but this was a great story.

Serial: The Androids of Tara- AKA The Prisoner of Zenda, Doctor Who style. I liked it. I do like Romana a lot.

Serial: The Power of Kroll - The Swampies are all made-up like the original Hulk. The Kraken monster is a slight improvement on the Loch Ness Monster.

Serial: The Armageddon Factor - Definitely two episodes too long but I enjoyed it all the same. Drax!!!! The ending was a bit of a let down though and made the whole Key to Time story pointless.

Serial: Destiny of the Daleks - Welcome, Romana II. I love your clothes even if your white scarf is as terribly impractical as TBaker!Doctor's.

Serial: City of Death - Lots of fun! Who doesn't like a story filmed in Paris? Enjoyable silliness with all the best things about Doctor Who.

Serial: The Creature from the Pit - I enjoyed K9 reading Peter Rabbit. The rest was nothing spectacular.

Serial: Nightmare of Eden - It was fine. These last two serials have been a bit meh honestly. I really love Romana and K9 but TBaker!Doctor is doing nothing for me.

Serial: The Horns of Nimon - I enoyed this one. A good end of the season and much improved over the last two. TBaker!Doctor taking things a bit more seriously rather than mugging to the camera is clearly my preference.

Serial: The Leisure Hive - Loved it! Well apart from the new swishy start to the intro music and the fact that K9 was blown up in the first 5 minutes.

Serial: Meglos - My darling Barbara is back, though obviously not Barbara. A great story. I loved the time loop and the half-man half-cactus TBaker!Doctor.

Serial: Full Circle - Hello, Adric. You know, I started off hating him but he's not so bad by the end. It's not the best story but there have been worse.

Serial: State of Decay - Vampires! I do enjoy a good vampire story and this was that. I enjoyed the Doctor and Romana's relationship too - it feels like they're finally comfortable with each other, right before the end.

Serial: Warrior's Gate - Goodbye, Romana II and K9. Not the best send off sadly, and TBaker!Doctor barely seemed to blink at her leaving.

Serial: Princess Nyssa in her flower fairy dress! Ainley!Master! TBaker!Doctor treating Adric like his kid. I love everything about it.

Serial: Logopolis - Ask not for whom the cloister bell tolls, etc. And so we reach the end of TBaker!Doctor's run. And leaving the best to last, we collect my beloved Tegan before we head off into the sunset. Fantastic story, great supporting characters, The Master being hilarious. No notes.

TBaker!Doctor Era Round-up

Favourite Companion: Sarah Jane

Least favourite Companion: Again, there's no one I didn't like.

Favourite Serial: The Ark in Space / The Keeper of Traken

Least Favourite Serial: The Creature from the Pit / Nightmare of Eden

TBaker!Doctor is difficult to pin down. He's mostly awful to his companions, arrogant and sometimes unfeeling. But then he's also a lot of fun and, when he's serious, a lot more enjoyable.

Current Doctor standings

Pertwee

TBaker

Troughton

Hartnell

Current Top 10 Companions

Jo Grant

Barbara Wright

Sarah Jane Smith

Brigadier Lethbridge Stewart

Leela

Romana II

Zoe

Sgt Benton

K9

Romana I

[phoenix-flamed]

Martha tries her best to cut her gasp short as she sees the man come in, hands to her mouth. She wasn't one to doubt Cid's words, but the survival of Rosaria's late Archduke seemed too far-fetched. Maybe an attempt of him to lighten her mood -- who could blame her for being angry at the man with a spirit as free as the wind? So, seeing the very Archduke come into her inn, seemingly bereft of memories throws her in for a loop, eyes water and affectionate, but still attempting to feign ignorance. Slowly moving hands away from her mouth does she attempt to keep her composure. "Good day, my lord," she can at least use that honorific, right? Though, she could not deny it felt wrong not to address him rightfully. "Cid informed me of your visit, rest assured you will be well-treated here. You are in need of a room for the night? Maybe a little dish to warm you up?"

Elwin has mixed feelings regarding being dispatched to Rosaria. On one hand, it's always something that he dreads, every single time -- and that dread never seems to subside no matter which village, town, or hamlet he ends up at. On the other hand, it stands to reason that it would inevitably happen at some point or another that he would have to return here, given that Cursebreakers don't get to choose where they are needed at any given time.

Martha's Rest is a new one, he'll admit; or rather, it's a place he hasn't been to in ages, and yet it still somehow feels nostalgic to him. It's different, yet the same -- right down to the welcoming atmosphere of The Golden Stables. The tavern and inn has clearly seen better days, it's true, but it feels... like home. It feels like the "common" places and the people that he had found himself most connected to, and always gravitated towards spending his free time with, rather than the nobles who would smile to his face with a knife hidden behind their backs.

He's cautious as he makes his way inside, eyes scanning one side of the floor before moving over to the other, despite not knowing what -- or who -- he is looking for. Ghosts, probably, he admits with a furrowing of his brow. When Martha addresses him, the tension in his face eases enough that both brows arch instead in surprise. He turns his head towards her, towards the center bar, and is immediately conscious and wary of her potentially-too-keen memory.

Still, he musters a small smile and approaches.

"Please, such a formal title is ... unfitting for a man such as myself," the former Archduke quietly corrects, though there's not a drop of ire in his tone. Rather, it's warm and almost apologetic. "Thank you nonetheless for your kind hospitality -- not just on my behalf, but on behalf of all of your Bearers." The last part is, of course, whispered after he leans in towards her, to ensure that such a suggestive statement isn't overheard by the wrong ears. "Cid tells me that you require an extra sword for protection, and I would know more of your situation and how I might help, before anything else."

[galaghiel]

Not me speedruning art and leaving schoolwork to dust ahahahahaha...

Anyway here's fanart of @alexanderwesker 's fanfic "Whispers of Red" perfectly unsettling sequel to the fic "Drawing Dead"

[cas-rivaille]

Hi! Can I request a obey me hc where the MC is a leader of a very big mafia gang in the human world?

YES !??!?

(ahaha this def isn't the plot of one of my scripts where i run a mafia gang because i thought it would be cool and it's amazing you requested this)

tags: mentions of weapons, mild swearing, protective brothers and datables (i didn't include luke because it's a mafia gang thing and he's precious child and i want abt to put him in harms way)

a/n: i also didn't write the thoughts for dia, barb, simeon, or solomon because i honestly couldn't think of anything i'm sorry

MC as a Mafia leader in the human world

When you came to the Devildom, you were in another world, rendering everything in the human world useless. You spent so much time trying to adjust, that your life in the human world was almost forgotten.

Almost.

It wasn't long before Lord Diavolo announced you would be going on a trip to the human world. Suddenly you remembered everything you would go back to. If only you were aware of the chaos that would unfold. When you got to the human world, in your town you previously lived in, there was maybe a minute of peace before chaos erupted.

Once you stepped out of the alleyway that Diavolo teleported the group of you into, nearly half the people on the street turned and looked at you. Some of them ran, others pulled out their phones and made calls, and about four or five came rushing towards you asking where you'd been.

You recognized the men that had the gall to come up to you, they were some of the more high ranking commanders. However, your second in command was not among them. The brothers protectively stepped around you, not knowing who these people were. Clearly that was the wrong move.

In an instant the street was clear of citizens and there were members of your gang with their weapons drawn or their hands near their weapon. Diavolo stood behind you, glaring at the men in front. Simeon and Solomon were on edge. The atmosphere was tense. Barbatos was the first to speak.

"I'd advise you stand down," He spoke with a hum in his voice to the men in your gang.

"I could say the same to you," Said a voice emerging from the other side of the street. Slowly the person walked forward. It was your second in command.

"Who are you to be acting like this around our commander ? They disappeared four months ago and show up again like nothing ? Forgive us if we're a little curious," Your second spoke in a teasing manor, eyeing everyone carefully.

Lucifer -

- commander ?

- who ? mc a commander ? of what ?

- who are these people and where did they come from ?

- *protection mode activated*

- the only reason he's not in demon form and ready to attack is bc diavolo is here

- looks at all his brothers and makes sure they understand exactly what he means with one look

- this man is next to dia full on ready to fight

"Who are you calling com-"

You interrupt Lucifer.

"Everyone stand down, this is all just a bit misunderstanding," You say as quickly as possible to stop any conflict. Everyone directs their attention towards you.

"Commander who are these people ?" Your second asks.

"They're my friends, there's no need to be hostile. Everyone stand down," You say, looking around at all the people. They immediately lower their weapons, some of them even holster them. Your second on the other hand, known for standing up to you, doesn't lower their weapon.

"All due respect commander, but I won't stand down until I know they aren't a threat," You second looks you dead in the eye. You sigh. You then direct your attention to the boys surrounding you.

"Guys, back off a bit please. I'm fine. They aren't a threat," You say, tired.

The brothers ease up a bit, but you can still see the tension in their muscles. Diavolo, Barbatos, Simeon, and Solomon stood behind you protectively still, but also stepped back.

Lucifer steps forward and makes eye contact with you.

"What's going on MC ?" Lucifer asks.

"Okay so, gang this is Lucifer, Mammon, Levi, Satan, Beel, Asmo, Barbatos, Belphie, Solomon, Simeon, Barbatos, and Diavolo. Boys, this is my gang," You say while pointing to everyone and talking as fast as possible.

Mammon -

- he eased up on his defensive stance, but he never let your hand go

- as to be expected because you're HIS human

- anyways

- gang ??

- what do you mean gang ??

- like a club or should he be running

- very confused boi but just wants to protect you no matter what

Mammon squeezes your hand lightly. You look at him.

"What do you mean gang ?" He asks.

"I- uh.. well you see, it's exactly how it sounds," You respond.

The confusion on Mammon's face only grows.

"I am the leader of a gang. Here in the human world?" You say while shrugging your shoulders.

The boys all look at you like you've grown a second head.

"You run a gang ?" Mammon says after a moment of silence between all of them.

"Is that so surprising ?" Your second asks.

Leviathan -

- surprising ??

- surprising ??????

- the same mc that would stay up until two am playing animal crossing with him ?

- the same mc that bought him plushies of his favorite characters ?

- mc who would cosplay with him

- how could someone who makes sure he takes care of himself and basically babies him but on a friend level, be the commander of a gang ?

- lowkey thinks it's badass because he is the grand admiral of his own army

- gets distracted and starts fangirling over you

"How long have you been the commander of a gang?" Levi excitedly asks.

"Two years, before I went to the devildom that is," You respond, slightly bouncing off Levi's excitement.

"The what?" Your second asks, interrupting.

"The- oh. Wait a minute," You say and turn to Diavolo.

"Am I allowed to tell them ?" You half whisper to Dia.

"If you see fit. This situation is entirely new to me," Dia half whispers back. Barbatos leans in and joins the conversation.

"I sense utter loyalty to you, MC, if you trust them then I advise we should too," Barbatos speaks quietly.

You turn back to your gang.

"Okay so the reason I vanished for four months is because I went to 'hell' as an exchange student. Now I realize that may sound crazy, but these guys are all demons," You say while roughly gesturing to the brothers, Dia, and Barbatos, "He's an angel," You say and point to Simeon, "And he's a human, but immortal, I think. I don't really know Solomon is the textbook definition of an enigma," You say while waving at Solomon in gesture.

Your gang stares at you, bewildered. The person next to your second starts laughing hysterically. Your second glares at him but the laughter doesn't stop.

Levi, knowing exactly how it feels to be laughed at and not believed, starts talking.

"Need proof ?" He asks. In the blink of an eye he's in his demon form.

Your gang steps back, eyes wide, their hands near their weapons.

Satan -

- there's no way satan isn't dragging you back to his room after this to talk about your gang

- thinks it's attractive as hell, MC in a position of power ? that's the stuff

- takes a moment to register why levi is in his demon form, but feels his wrath and changes too

- steps closer to you

- he's still mad you never told him, but he won't take it out on you

- honestly just wants to know the truth

After Satan changes too, the rest of the brothers join in

Except Lucifer, who looks very displeased. Diavolo laughs at Lucifer's discontentment. Satan smirks as well, knowing he made Lucifer angry.

Your second is the first to speak.

"Okay what the fuck," Is the only thing said.

"MC did explain that we're demons, were you listening ?" Satan asks coyly.

"Right then. So it's actually true ?" Your second asks, looking at you.

"Yes, why would I lie ?" You say back.

There is a moment of silence. No one moves or says anything.

"So I take it this means we can't tell anyone ?" Your second asks.

"No, you cant. But I know you're all more than capable of keeping secrets," You laugh a little. The atmosphere lightens up. Your second laughs with you.

Asmo -

- your laugh is so adorable to him

- not the time thoughts

- he also thinks it's attractive you run a gang

- admires how you were able to change the atmosphere and how these people listen to you

- will totally tease you and call you commander

- joins in on lightening the mood

"Right then, how about we all go get a drink and discuss the events of the last four months over dinner ?" Asmo says.

"Is there even a restaurant big enough to hold all of us ?" Satan asks.

"Yeah, we can use the base," You say.

"Of course, it's still the same as you left it commander," Your second joins in.

"Then it's settled, let's go !" Asmo smiles.

Beel -

- definitely not opposed to having food

- is a little hurt you didn't tell him, but ultimately understands

- he wants to hear about your adventures

- wonders if he can spend more time with you to hear about said adventures

- does this mean you can fight ?

- if so can you train with him ?

"Does this mean we get human world food ?" Beel asks, looking at you.

"Yep !!" You respond.

Beel changes out of his demon form with a smile on his face.

"I'll also show you guys our base of operations and give you a tour. I can also show you where I used to live too !!" You say excitedly.

The other brothers change out of their demon forms.

Your second starts to walk and lead the way to the base. Everyone follows.

Belphie -

- to be honest he doesn't care you're a gang leader

- he just wants to sleep and spend time with you

- if those two things coincide then good for him

- he does think it's cool tho

"So, you're gonna tell us everything right ?" Belphie asks.

"Yes. I'll tell you guys about my life here and then I'll tell my gang about my life with you all," You say.

"Good, as long as things get cleared up," Belphie says and yawns.

----

SORRY IT GOT REALLY SHORT AT THE END IM REALLY TIRED BUT THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST I HOPE YOU LIKE IT !!

- cas :)

[anotheranimestan]

Steamy Nights

Shouta Aizawa steaminess + suggestive language

Please note that y/n is obviously of age in this one

wc: 2.4k

Tell me why I got 🦋 when writing this loll. This man is fineee

Stretched out on Aizawa’s couch, you were waiting for him to get home after another long day of teaching. A little while ago he’d given you a key to his place, which was a big surprise since he values his privacy so much. Since you hadn’t been able to see him for a few days, you figured tonight would be the perfect time to use it. Work was really taxing on him lately and you knew he was stressed. Probably over stressed. To make the most of the night, you decided to set the atmosphere.

The apartment already had Shouta’s personality all over it. Lots of dark furniture and wood. Absolutely no harsh lighting, just a few dim lamps. His walls were scattered with some paintings he’d bought on your art show dates together. Old books and blankets everywhere. His sweet cat usually curled up in her corner.

He had a drawer full of scented candles. Your favorite was the cinnamon one but he claims it’s too sweet for him. Although you highly doubted he’d even notice the difference, he just holds random stubborn opinions sometimes without any good reason behind it. Just wanting things to complain about. Most people found his pessimistic grumpy attitude unattractive but...he’s just moody. An exterior shell. Inside was was soft and sweet.

You’d just finished lighting a few of the cinnamon candles and putting on some of his favorite music in the background when you heard the door click open.

He’s always so light on his feet. Sometimes if you weren’t paying close attention he’d come in and scare the life out of you on accident.

You rounded the corner, excited to see him.

“Hey Eraserhead.”

You always called him by is pro name when he’s in his hero costume. People usually assumed it was out of respect or privacy but he knew the real reason. You were teasing him. You disliked his hero name and his hero outfit. Recalling the day Present Mic convinced him to use it, you’d pestered him relentlessly to put more effort into it. Insisting he’d regret it one day. He said he didn’t care...but now look at him.

“Please y/n, when are you going to stop calling me that?” He said rubbing his eyes. He was low energy as usual.

“After you change it.”

“I can’t change it.”

“Exactly.” You whispered smugly.

He sighed. No matter how many times you had this conversation you would always win. Rightfully but he wouldn’t admit it.

You drifted over to greet him properly. Brushing the hair out of his eyes and placing a sweet lingering kiss on his cheek.

And as for his boring, baggy costume...you understood it’s purpose. He wore it to stand out less, aiding in his fight style. But it was still a pain since you couldn’t properly hug him in it. The capture weapon was always in your face and you could hardly feel his body through the layers.

His modest attire duped most people. Making his tastefully well built body underneath a best kept secret. Which you supposed was an upside. Only you (and Present Mic for some reason) had ever really gotten to see him shirtless.

“I’m going to change.” He said kissing your forehead. He knew exactly what you were thinking.

He reemerged from his room a few minutes later. Wearing a droopy black shirt and sweatpants that were loose around his hips. You could see the dipped lines of his V. Just north was his lightly defined six pack. And just south was unfortunately concealed under black briefs and his untied waistband...

He caught you staring.

Feeling red and exposed you quickly redirected your attention to something else. “So are you hungry babe? I could make something?”

He declined.

“Okay...what about grading assignments. Do you want help to make it go faster?”

Declined again. Apparently he worked straight through lunch to finish that already.

You were beginning to feel useless. You’re supposed to be making him de-stress but it’s like he was so self-sufficient there was no room for you.

You sat next to him on the couch, his arm wrapped around you. You brushed some hair behind his ear. His long dark hair was always messy from his constant naps. Plus, you constantly running your fingers in it doesn’t help that situation. He was quiet. Massaging his temples. You could see the tension on his face. It made your heart twinge with pain. Just then you noticed his ear fully. He had at least six piercings on this one but he wasn’t wearing any of his earrings. Usually he’d put them on when he wasn’t at work but he didn’t tonight. And you knew exactly why.

“Babe. I have an idea.”

“And what’s that?” He played along.

He would take them out when he secretly wanted one of your amazing head massages. You always focus on his ears and temples just like he liked so he’d left out his earrings hoping you’d get the hint. This man could never just ask for something in his life. Luckily you could read him like a book.

“Come on.” You purred. Pulling him with both hands off the couch. He complied wearily.

Aizawa didn’t spend much of the money he made from pro hero work on lavish things. The only times he splurged was to buy you nice gifts. However, you did convince him to purchase one nice thing for himself. You knew he wanted it anyways but was just too stubborn to actually buy it.

A jacuzzi tub. He loves hot baths after a day of dealing with his “problem children” students. It was the only thing that could get his muscles to relax. And the moisture from the steam felt nice on his eyes.

Making sure to bring a candle and the speaker with, you lured him into the bathroom.

“Want to take a bath with me?” You asked sweetly.

“I wouldn’t mind that.” A tiny smile spread on his lips. You were too irresistible to deny.

“Okay you run it and I’ll go get the wine.” You sang excitedly. “But don’t make it so hot. You almost burnt my skin off last time.”

“It felt normal to me.” He said casually.

“Yea because you’re a psychopath.” You quipped before springing to the kitchen.

You guys had two types of favorite wine. One was for your long deep discussions about art and literature. Or when asks for your advice on dealing with his students because he knows he’d just lose his temper and expel them without your ideas. And the other, the pricier and far more potent one, was saved for special moments. Just like these. You poured your glass full, of course, but you filled his to the tippy top. Not only did he need it, but Lord knows tipsy Aizawa was sexy.

When you returned, he was crouched over testing the water temperature. His face gently lit from the soft glow of the candle in the dark room.

“I made sure to cool it off. No psychopaths here.” He teased trying to sound bored. But his voice was noticeably happier than when he’d arrived.

You instructed him to take a few sips of wine, desperate to get that show rolling.

“I know what you’re doing.” He said with an amused little smile. He swapped the cups in your hands so you now claimed the full one.

“Good. So then you should know exactly how to play along.” You said as you switched the glasses back with a wink.

He sighed in defeat. But that rare smile was still adorning his cheeks. He took a few y/n-approved size drinks.

His hair was falling into his eyes again. You set your glass down on the tub edge and pulled him into you. He wrapped his arms around your waist while you pushed his hair back and secured it in a clip.

“I didn’t know you were coming tonight.” He said softly.

“I know. Now that I have a key I wanted to come bother you a bit.”

His eyebrow raised at the word bother.

You panicked slightly. Hoping he wasn’t actually bothered that you’d come uninvited.

“That does sound like you.” He said as he kissed your nose. “I hope you do it more often.”

Your heart spasmed.

“Really? You do?” Your insecurities ears’ perked up.

“Why wouldn’t I want that?” He said in his deep sleepy voice.

A happy little smile broke its way through. You could only shrug in response.

You slipped your hands under his shirt and pulled it up slowly. Dragging your knuckles along the dips and bumps of his abs as you went. Gently you pulled it over his head. He helped by raising his arms which just made the rest of his muscles flex. Your heart started beating a little faster. No matter how many times you saw him he always made you flustered.

Your eyes were glued on him. His tattoos were now completely visible. Another best kept secret. They trailed around his shoulder, back and half his chest. You placed some honeyed kisses on his collar bones as you pulled down his sweatpants and briefs to leave him fully undressed. He was mouthwatering type sexy. The candlelight was highlighting all his high points in the best possible way. The music was perfectly complimenting your emotions and the sleepy eyes staring at you so lovingly were severely compromising your thought process. There were a lot of things you wanted to do with him suddenly but you focused your eyes on the goal here. A relaxing, hot bath.

Bath bath bath.

Reluctantly containing yourself you pried his hands off your waist and nudged him towards the water.

“Okay okay, go on.”

“You’re coming too right?” He said as he grazed your bottom lip with his thumb.

You nodded, butterflies erupting in your tummy.

He laid down in the water and took some more large swigs of wine. His glass was half empty before you’d even taken your first sip. He watched you undress with intent in his eyes, soaking in every curve and dip of you as well. He reached an arm out to you once you’d fully unclothed. He wanted his hands on you immediately.

But you had a goal here. Bath. Massage. Focus.

You slipped in behind him so that he laid between your legs. His broad shoulders nearly covered your whole body when he leaned back against you.

The tub was huge. Easily fit you both and could probably add another person.

“And now for my favorite part.” You announced as you switched the tub on its low setting. The rumbling under the water sending tiny vibrating waves around the whole tub.

Definitely worth spending his money.

Your hands rubbed every inch of him you could reach. His abs, the thick muscular sides of his waist, his biceps. You alternated between hugging his neck whispering cute things in his ear and massaging him.

Of course he was practically falling asleep as you spent time on his ears and temples. His head was heavy against your chest. It was so cute. You loved when he fell asleep on you.

But you knew he was keeping himself awake. He was rubbing your legs and the backs of your thighs. Squeezing and kneading them gently. Placing kisses on your arms and hands whenever he got the chance.

After about 20 minutes and one refresh of hot water, both your glasses were empty. He’d drank most of it since he’d downed the last few sips of yours too.

Wanting to see his handsome face again you shifted and positioned yourself to sit on his lap, thighs wrapped snuggly around his waist. After making sure you were fully comfortable, he leaned back against the tub and closed his eyes. He pulled you close and trailed circles with his fingertips up and down your back under the warm water. He loved the weight of you on him. You both exhaled a deep stress relieving breath.

The steam was working its magic, the rumbling of the jets felt so good massaging your legs. And his heart beat, you could feel it through his chest. It was slow and steady. Making you drowsy off him.

He noticed you were lost in thought, stroking his hair and tracing your fingers along the lines of his tattoo. He took advantage of this time to soak in all your features, watching you under drooping lashes. The flush of your cheeks, the delicate arrangement of your beauty marks. The far off expression on your face, he knew it well. He loved observing you when you were like this. You were beautiful.

“Relaxed yet?” You purred. Starting to tease him with soft kisses.

“Almost there.” He replied before catching you to deepen the kiss. Your soft skin and body heat was melting him away. He wanted more. Using both hands he pressed your back into it.

He savored your lips for a long while, becoming more and more passionate as the seconds ticked by and the wine hit his bloodstream.

You felt him shifting underneath you. Squirming slightly from the pressure that was building up. More butterflies. His hands clamped down around your hips.

“Okay your plan worked.” He smiled into your kiss. Eyes still closed.

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re referring to.”

He tapped his finger against the empty wine glasses.

You started sucking on the sensitive spot under his ear. You knew tipsy Shouta always got turned on by that.

His arms both constricted tightly around your waist. His hips were pressing up into you now with impatience.

“Let’s go to my room.” He concluded. You giggled, causing your lips to vibrate against his sweet spot. You heard the soft moan from deep in his throat.

He stood up keeping you wrapped tightly around him, carrying you with ease.

He half-heartedly patted you both down with a towel, his hand not losing contact with your ass for a second.

Before he could whisk you out of the bathroom you grabbed the speaker and candle again.

The scent wafted into the air around you.

“Mm that smells good.” He said distracted for only a moment before his lips gravitated to your body again.

“Oh really. So you do like it.” You said with the smuggest tone. “You’ll never guess what scent it is Shouta.”

He didn’t reply. Too distracted with kissing your shoulders.

“Cinnamon.” You said with as much sass and emphasis as you could muster.

He paused. Caught. How did you always get him like this?

He pulled back rolling his eyes with a smile. Nose to nose now, you pressed him further with a smirk.

He cocked an eyebrow at you. Looking directly in your eyes he said, “Mhm. Keep this same energy when I take you in there.”

And just like that he’d knocked down your resolve and your whole body started fluttering.

He carried you into his bed and you two “relaxed” for the rest of the night.

~~

😳 the way I want to be y/n.

[worms-i-think]

thinking about husband Artem? hear me out:

Artem’s never been the easiest to read, but it’s obvious how his gaze softens when a client’s child insists he hold her cat while he discusses a case with their parent. Something creeps its way into your heart, and after many weeks of consideration you decide to adopt a kitten. (Of course children were a possibility too, but you like to take things one step at a time.)

He becomes enamored with how it curls in the palm of his hand while he leans back in sweatpants and a t-shirt. A rare occurrence, but one you always catch yourself admiring. You’d think the kitten was a human baby with the way he cradles her. She nibbles on his thumb and his eyes crinkle up in a smile as he pets her head with one finger. Yes, this is what accomplished senior attorneys do in their free time. He doesn’t know you’re in the room when he talks to her, telling the kitty quite matter-of-factly how cute she is,to her big bug eyes, drooping and blinking as she falls asleep.

You lie back next to him over the weekends, legs resting on top of his as you snuggle further into the blankets. You hold his hands, being the fully realized sap you would’ve cringed at in the past. Right now it’s too late for cringing—you just can’t be apart from him, foreheads pressed together and giggling whenever your noses knock together before you kiss. He isn’t usually like this, but every once in a sweet while the tension around your lives sinks back to let you live a little more freely.

A part of you dies inside thinking of how you feel downright stupid for him, with the way your stomach flips when you roll your wedding band around your finger. Oh dear lord he’s your husband. He’s yours.

When you wake up on the couch in the morning, his low voice hums a good morning, a whisper cracking in your ear as he apologizes for not bringing you to the bed after your movie had ended. You’re still groggy, but you can clearly see the way his messy hair falls into his eyes.

You wrap your arms around his back and bury your head into his shoulder, savoring just how comfortable the atmosphere feels. Here, you’re allowed to replace your crisp button-down, neat lipstick, and sharp wit for wrinkled pajamas, warm cheeks, and blurry morning vision.

It doesn’t matter how long it’s been; these days always bring you back to the start of your honeymoon.

When you stand to get dressed you feel giddy all over again because you married that man, and because every night you’ll get to come home to a place where two genius lawyers and a kitten can relax into a little domestic dream.

[lovesick-panmess]

Protect Them

Soo I know I'm way overdue with the 3rd part of my Armageddon AU but I've actually been replaying the lessons so I get a proper feel for what I'm writing, so to make up for it and to get this idea out of my head I've been thinking about it for days here is a related fic between the oldest brothers

-------

Levi can count on one hand how many times he's seen Lucifer coming home injured. The Avatar of Pride could easily crush irrelevant demons with his glare and he proved worthy of Diavalo's right-hand man for a reason... But the first time that Levi remembers was on a travel mission with Lord Diavalo within a year after their fall from grace. It was a distant memory, seeing Lucifer stumble up the stairs blooded up and adamantly refusing care from any of them, even Mammon who was following behind his every footstep. He had gotten used to such behavior and just settled for turning up his headphones on his way to the safe haven that was his room, stopping when he noticed the eldest's door cracked open. He watched Mammon gingerly wrap the bandage around his shoulder, blinking back tears in his eyes and shaking his head vehemently as Lucifer spoke. The music was loud and distracting he just settled for reading their lips-

"Mammon I need you to do this for me.."

"I won't! There's no need, ya just paranoid-!"

Watching the tears well up made Levi shift, uncomfortable and jealous, wondering what bond allowed them to be so vulnerable so open. Hadn't they all fought their father together? Rallied behind him so readily behind Lucifer, their Morningstar that only shined a light that only Mammon was allowed to see. He lingered before continuing to walk down the hall, to dwell in his own sunken loneliness but hearing Mammon speak one more time before the door had shut.

"..I'll do it, alright? Just stop ya crying, Luci.."

He had felt the deja vu of that very moment playing out in front of him, though this time he was hiding from Mammon in his secret spot in the living room. They had planned to go to the movies in an hour and Levi knew that Mammon would try to find him to convince him to pay for the tickets yet again so he decided to wait out the time so that scumbag would have to bring his wallet. It was a surprise to see the door open, everyone else is out and Lucifer's return to be scheduled for a few more days, but instead, the eldest had come early with visible wounds and beatings. Levi felt frozen, debating on whether he should slip out to help or stay putt but once again Mammon comes down the stairs like it's his calling. "Lucifer? Let me help you!" Denial was the first given reaction, the eldest's heart too hard and stubborn to ask for help before collapsing into Mammon's arms.

Levi followed with anxiety brewing in his chest, now wanting to just hide away in his room since plans were clearly on hold and he could do nothing to help the pair. Not like they would want his help, a shitty pathetic otaku wasn't much good at bandaging wounds, not like he was able to get much practice like Mammon did. Jealousy seethed, it made his heart race as he hid to the side of the door at the mention of his name.

"We have to tell him, Mams."

"We don't have to tell him shit! It's fine like this...Levi doesn't have to be involved."

It was confusing to be thrown out of the loop, but it hurt to hear Mammon so effortlessly fight to not include him. Maybe the second-born felt that Levi wasn't worth it? Too weak and unable to do..whatever it is they are arguing about, even so, it was odd-looking into Lucifer's room. Mammon unafraid of the eldest's temper and even being so bold as to glare at him while cleaning his cuts, Lucifer had an expression of utter fondness that was intertwined with an unlabeled fear, one that only he seemed to see.

"Mammon, you know it takes a lot out of me to..admit this. I'm almost jealous that you're able to view me so..."

Shit shit shit, he had been so entrapped in their conversation and his own envy he hadn't realized that it was emitting throughout the hall. He stiffens when Lucifer calls his name, slipping out from where he was hiding and now embarrassed. "Levi..come here please." He notes that Mammon refuses to look at him, biting his bottom lip hard as he sits next to his brother, so not used to this soft tone from him. He really must have stepped into a completely different world, one where Lucifer is willing to fight tooth and nail with his own pride in order to tell them the truth. And what a horrid truth it must be.

"Lucifer what's going on? Why is Mammon..." He trails off, feeling Lucifer's hand skim through his hair, and despite his own embarrassment leaned into the comforting touch and suddenly the bottle of Demonus was looking very tempting. "Levi...I would like to involve you in something very important, in order to protect the others." Lucifer's words were slow, each one taking some kind of will to overcome his pride, his wings twitching in what Levi could easily place as anxiety and one he knew way too well. "I'm not allowed to say anything about the threat outside of the Devildom but it puts us at risk and I...There may be a chance I won't come back."

His stomach drops, he doesn't realize that he's shaking until he feels Mammon's arms wrapping around his shoulder, shaking his head in pure denial. Not Lucifer, the most powerful one of them all, their eldest brother not coming back. Such thoughts were unfathomable to even believe, much less considered as a probability to the point that they had to talk about it. Acknowledge it and take action, Lucifer keeps talking and Mammon presses Levi closer to his chest, "I talked this with Mammon since the beginning but now we believe it's time to tell you in case something were ever to happen to the both of us and you would decide when to tell Satan..."

The prospect of such responsibility makes Levi feel like a fish out of water as he gulps for air yet in that same breath go on a rampage of self-deprecation and drowning doubt. How he's not ready, he's a good-for-nothing shitty pathetic otaku, he can't protect his brothers, he's weak, he's nothing, if Lucifer and Mammon are gone then there would be no fucking hope for them. The two oldest look at each other, small bits of regret building up from the pressure and burden they had put on him, Mammon gently rubbing his back and Lucifer cupping his face. "Leviathan please breathe."

His body does it automatically before he can think about it, the air in his lungs felt like boiling water as the panic slowly dissipates in his chest. All that was left was his own soft mutterings, so sure that Lucifer was probably disappointed that he has to trust in Levi of all people to protect them, he leans against Mammon who nudges him affectionately before resting his head on his shoulder. "I...I haven't really done anything good since...I was General...how can you be so sure in me?" He asks but squirms unready for whatever the answer might be, though he's unable to mistake Lucifer's radiating pride that he feels.

"Who's the one who came up with the plan on where to steal the weapons in the Celestial Realm?"

"M-Me but I-"

"And who helped convince the others to lay low while we defended the base?"

"I did but Luci-"

"Who's the one who took an arrow for Mammon while he was trying to protect me?"

"Lucifer-!"

He gets cut off with a flick on his forehead, his lips set in a pout but meeting the Morningstar's expression that made butterflies bloom in his stomach from overwhelming pride had him turn away and looking down at the floor. "Levi, get out of your head for one second and look at how smart and tactical you are. When it matters...when there is no time to panic. You're the third strongest family for a fucking reason, you should start believing it." The unusual confidence makes him flush but it's really Lucifer's words that bring the tears, no longer from fear but slowly coming to the realization that Lucifer and Mammon too had faith in him...they always did.

"Do ya still wanna join the pact? If ya wanna think about it, ya still can Levi." He blinks at the fact that Mammon had really been silent this whole time and just hugging him, the second born now getting up to tighten the remaining bandages. "Did you think about it, Mammon?" Levi knew the answer in his gut, only the blind would question the unwavering devotion that Mammon and Lucifer had for each other, only further cemented as the Avatar of greed simply shakes his head. He feels a small smile form on his face, "Then I don't need to think about it...I want to do this."

By the next few hours, any of the remaining tension and somber feelings had slipped away, replaced by a calm atmosphere that usually would not last long in the House of Lamentation. The melody of the cursed record floated and hung in the air as Levi rested on the floor in his demon form, the pact officially made and learning about the secret doorway by Lucifer's bookcase, definitely locking that information into memory. He sees Mammon grinning above him, curiosity embedded in his features, "So where'd ya decide to put the pact mark?" Levi lifts his sweater, the symbol of the three still glow fresh on the side by his ribs, and Mammon hissing with empathy.

He wanted it to hurt weirdly enough, to serve as a forever reminder that this pain was temporary but the pain of losing his brothers would surely last till the end of time. Mammon shows the mark on his hand, Lucifer clicks his tongue in disapproval as someone might ask about the pact but the second brother waves his concern away. He enjoys looking at the pact, the constant reassurance that they would be okay when the word goes to absolute shit, and Lucifer couldn't find any argument against that. They both look at the eldest who crosses his arms with a sharp, "No-" before puppy eyes come into play and Lucifer's pride can not save him from that.

What they both don't expect is for Lucifer to turn around and spread his wings out as if to show off, but then they see it. The markings trailing up his spine and next to the scars of where his two wings used to be, Levi is the first to reach up and touch it, internally blaming the remnants of Lucifer's pride that is making him so bold. He sees his hand tremble but luckily he is able to hold his voice steady, "Just because we made this pact..doesn't mean you both get to just fuck up. Y-You both should always come home." Lucifer nods, Mammon kisses his cheek and Levi struggles to hide his tears.

When Levithan leaves the room while closing the door behind him, reality, as he knew it just a few hours ago, wasn't all that different and he can hear Asmo drunkenly cheering as Satan carries him through the door. "Hey, Levi! Don't hide in your room- you better come join us." He doesn't give his thoughts a chance, heading down the stairs with a small smile. The world hadn't changed, but Levi would be forever.

----------

AHHH THIS HAS BEEN SITTING THE DRAFTS FOREVER I'M SO GLAD I FINISHED IT. Please please let me know if I should make an explanation post of how the pacts would work (it will most likely be headcanons cause I don't know how they work in canon 😪😪)

either way, I really hope you enjoyed the fic as I did writing it! I'm still working on the next part for the Armageddon AU so bear with me 😭

[phoukanamedpookie]

Unpopular opinion: Fandom misapplies the Scapegoat/Golden Child dynamic with Zuko and Azula

I've said before that the way fandom assigns the Scapgoat/Golden Child roles to Zuko and Azula gets a little out of hand.

TL;DR for that post: fandom takes a few things Zuko says about Azula as gospel but ignores how Ozai actually interacts with Azula on the show.

I'm going to expand that point and say that it also ignores the way Zuko is actually treated on the show.

The way fandom would have it, Ozai did nothing but heap scorn on Zuko from the day he was born. But is that really so? The events of the show don't bear that out.

Make no mistake; Ozai absolutely abused his children. He challenged his own son to an Agni Kai just for talking out of turn, and Zuko bears his distinctive scar as a result. But I'm not so sure that Ozai's abuse of Zuko manifested as a constant barrage of vitriol. What he does in the show is create an atmosphere of unrelenting tension, where everyone's on pins and needles, waiting for the shoe to drop. It just so happens that the shoe always drops on Zuko. But there's a reason for that.

It's interesting to note that Ozai's rationale for burning Zuko was to teach him "respect," but in reality, what Zuko did "wrong" was undermine the image of the all-powerful sovereign that Ozai constantly seeks to project. His assessment of Zuko as a "miserable failure" has nothing to do with a general scorn for Zuko as a person, but seething rage at how Zuko's inability to meet his unrealistic expectations reflects poorly on the All-Powerful Ruler Of The World persona he invests so much of himself in.

But how is Zuko treated when he's not on Ozai's shit list for making him look bad in front of his followers?

I believe the two best places to look are: how he behaves during his banishment and how he's treated upon his return to the Fire Nation.

"Lieutenant! You'd better learn some respect—or I will teach it to you."—Zuko, "The Storm"

"This is humiliating! We're royalty! These people should be giving us whatever we want."—Zuko, "The Swamp"

"My name is Zuko. Son of Ursa and Fire Lord Ozai. Prince of the Fire Nation, and heir to the throne."—Zuko, "Zuko Alone"

"Good things that are happening for you! Have you ever thought that I want more from life than a nice apartment and a job serving tea?"—Zuko, "Lake Laogai"

Zuko talks about his status as prince, his throne, and his destiny to become Fire Lord almost as much as he talks about his honor. These are not the words or the attitude of someone who does not feel entitled to what he thinks he deserves.

That persistent and outspoken entitlement runs counter to the Scapegoat role fandom assigns to Zuko. That's not to say that Ozai never praised Azula while disparaging Zuko. The "lucky to be born" comment proves that he's done it at least once. But let's not make him out to be the Cinderella of the Fire Nation royal family, forced to sleep on ashes while Azula gets a clean, soft bed.

While I'm on the subject of entitlement, it's so perplexing to see fanfic and headcanons that characterize Azula as lording her royal status over everyone because she never draws attention to it on the show. In fact, she seems to go out of her way to avoid doing so. Even when she gives her speech to Long Feng about the divine right to rule, she's not talking about her title as princess but about that mysterious quality that separates great leaders and shapers of history from everybody else.

But I digress.

Zuko's entitlement through most of the show suggests that when he's not actively on Ozai's bad side, he gets and believes he deserves everything he wants. It's only when his actions threaten Ozai's persona of supreme power and authority that Ozai gets nasty with him.

Then there's how Zuko gets treated when he returns from exile.

"I am proud of you, Prince Zuko. I am proud because you and your sister conquered Ba Sing Se. I am proud because when your loyalty was tested by your treacherous uncle, you did the right thing and captured the traitor. And I am proudest of all of your most legendary accomplishment: you slayed the Avatar." —Ozai, "The Awakening"

"Prince Zuko, everyone's waiting for you. [...] The high admirals, the high generals, the war ministers, and the princess have all arrived. You're the only person missing. [...] The Fire Lord said he would not start until you arrived, sir." —Servant, "Nightmares and Dreamscapes"

When I got to the meeting, everyone welcomed me. My father had saved me a seat. He wanted me next to him. I was literally at his right hand.—Zuko, "Nightmares and Dreamscapes"

As much as fandom paints Zuko as the Un-Favorite compared to Azula, the show doesn't affirm that. In fact, after "proving himself," he seems to have gained more favor in Ozai's eyes than Azula (which, interestingly enough, doesn't seem to bother Azula at all). Until Zuko does a Heel-Face Turn and betrays the Fire Nation to join the Avatar, Azula takes a back seat to him in Ozai's esteem. Again, it's because Ozai's convinced that Zuko achieved something that makes him look more powerful in front of others. That's not to say he had it easy. Being the child of Fire Lord Ozai is a hardship in itself. However, based on what's going on for the first half of Book 3, it's kinda hard to see him as the underdog.

Of course, this post wouldn't be complete if I didn't include some kind of feminist or womanist analysis to the roles these characters inhabit with Ozai. Consider:

"Not all Golden Children [...] are Golden Children on the basis of what they do. [...] Some become Golden Children by dint of factors that often have cultural relevance, such as gender. In many cultures, tragically, boys are valued much more than girls from birth, and in this way, it is not atypical for an eldest son to be a Golden Child, and subsequent children, especially daughters, becoming Scapegoats or taking other unpleasant family roles [such as the Invisible Child*]. It doesn't matter what kind of person that son is or what he does. The son is golden by dint of his gender." (source)

Does this mean fandom has been misreading the Scapegoat/Golden Child dynamic the whole time? Is Zuko the Golden Child and Azula the Scapegoat? TBH, I'm not sure that's the right way of looking at it. I'm just saying that it's not so simple when you scratch the surface. These are not rigid categories that never change and have no overlap with each other or with other roles assigned within a toxic family. Fandom, I think, mistakes the Scapegoat, Golden Child, and Invisible Child for identities when a better way to see them is as functions.

Viewed through that lens, Zuko and Azula are assigned different roles that serve different functions at different points in time. So, yes, there are times when, in Ozai's eyes, Zuko is the Golden Child and Azula the Invisible Child. There are times when Zuko is the Scapegoat, and Azula becomes the Golden Child. It all depends on how well each of them is fulfilling Ozai's bottomless need for validation.

*Does this remind you of anyone?

"Narcissists [...] have such a tendency to view other people as conveniences or inconveniences, that when you're useful to a narcissist, they're all about you, but when you're not [...] the narcissist may find that child to be a headache, and they can sort of fade into the background for the narcissistic parent [...] The challenge of this is that the Invisible Child, like any child, will often spend time trying to get the notice of their parents. They'll do anything they can. They'll try to be the best possible kid. They'll try to be more than enough, whether that's getting grades or staying out of trouble or sometimes getting into trouble just so they can get the notice of their parents."

[belphiespillowtalk]

Lord Diavolo X Reader (Smut)

𝙉𝙎𝙁𝙒 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜!!

It wasn't new for the prince of hell to invite you over to his palace for some bonding time. The young prince appeared to have grown fond of you as your days in his kingdom passed by.

"Have you any idea of why his majesty has called for me?" You interrogate his staunch butler who guided you through the long, silent hallways of the Demon Lord's castle.

"It is not in my position to wonder about in such private interests of the young lord. Perhaps a meeting regarding academic matters?" Barbatos replied in that deep, silky voice which has been kissed on the cheek with an angel's grace. Least that's how you would describe it.

"It's not odd for him to call me at such unexpected timing, but, why now?..and for what?" You couldn't help but get cold feet just by the thought of meeting up with Lord Diavolo. The prince may appear to be a jolly and free spirited soul, however, to assume his majesty was no more than this was like playing with lions. He is not titled the wisest demon in hell for nothing after all.

"Need I repeat myself?" You heard his butler give a playful chuckle as he walked you to the Prince's chambers.

"Oh, no..I just couldn't help but wonder-"

"Think of it no further. I trust his royal majesty would not simply send for you for idle time." Barbatos came to a hault in his steps, not once disrupting his perfect posture.

"Hm?" His sudden act puzzled you to which you responded with a confused expression.

"If we were to find an answer, we'd have to seek it from the person who made you question it, wouldn't you say so?" The butler gave you a smile  which led your confussion to nowhere before you watched him give three gentle knocks on the mahogany doors which stood taller than every room you have ever been in.

With constant pondering and questions about the situation, you could not help but realize you were right in front of your destination.

"Enter." It was a soft and gentle response but it delivers so much power. That voice. It rang like melody in your ears. His voice like strawberries dipped in soft, sweet milk chocolate. Addictive.

With that signal, Barbatos pushed open the chamber doors, revealing what appeared to be the prince of hell himself, sitting in the armchair facing towards the burning fireplace. For a moment, you felt as if you were meeting with a CEO, ready for your job interview, however, this was a prince you were about to interact with. You could not help but feel your heart beat rise as the situation gave off a surprisingly erotic aura.

The two of you stopped by his door way, patiently waiting for a response before Barbatos gave a polite bow while calling out for Diavolo.

"Young master. Y/N has arrived.." He stated, signifying for you to make your presence known.

"Good evening, your majesty." You applied every bit of effort in trying to make your bow as polite and proper as Barbatos'.

"Ah. Y/N. I have been expecting you." Slowly, the prince stood up from his seat before turning towards your direction. His bright, golden eyes, which have such a sincere look to it, locked with yours, causing the apples of your cheeks to tint itself a bright red.

"So I've heard." You replied, adding a quiet chuckle to lessen the tension in the atmosphere

"Thank you, Barbatos. You may take your leave." Diavolo signalled, giving his loyal butler that same smile which could kill millions. Once again, the butler gave yet another bow to pay respect before exiting the chambers, giving you and the prince your privacy.

Silence quickly captured the room and the crackling of the fireplace dominated it. The atmosphere at that very moment felt tight and filled with unknown outcomes. Every muscle within your body seemed to have tensed up even more compared to how you were before engaging in this situation.

"Please, Y/N. Have a seat." Followed with the same old laugh you would never get tired of. "It would be improper of me to leave my guests standing throughout the whole duration of the meeting. Make yourself at home." He shot you a smile which made your heart flutter.

He returned back to his armchair, nearby the fireplace, motioning towards the seat beside him. You quickly complied with the prince's orders, fearing further hesitation would just upset him.

"I have missed your presence lately." He stated randomly, keeping his eyes locked on the fireplace as if he were analyzing it.

Did he just say he missed you? Him? The prince of hell? This had to be some alternate universe you have been transfered to.

"M-My lord..?"  You couldn't help but stutter at the sudden behavior of the young lord.

"Tell me. What it is exactly you think about when you are with me?" Okay now this was weird. "Do I frighten you, my dear Y/N?.." What exactly is he talking about?

"I'm sorry?.."

"Do I perhaps give you the same pleasurable feeling you give me when you bless me with your presence?"

----- X -----

There you were with your legs sprawled out on either side of the young lord's armchair. Your breath trying desperately to regain itself. Beads of sweat trailed across your forehead as you tried your hardest to keep your composure. This feeling was insane. Intoxicating even.

Feeling the prince's girthy shaft rest against your bottom has given you imaginations you never thought you would have about Diavolo.

"You seem to be enjoying this.." He whispered against your ear, sending shivers down your spine which you silently prayed he would break soon.

You felt his slender finger tips coated in his saliva, pressing against your entrance, giving it a tickle which made him let out a laugh. The teasing was too much for you to handle, causing you to glare up at him.

"Come now, don't give me that look. After all, I did say this was just the beginning." He mumbled once again, letting his hot breath hit the crook of your marked neck.

He knew exactly how to drive you crazy. How to keep you in your place. It seemed as if he knew your weaknesses from the day he first met you. Your thought process was abruptly interrupted as you felt him draw circles around your entrance, playing around with your moist, warm slit.

"I could grant you the grace of shoving my fingers deep inside you.." He whispered, causing you to blush furiously. He lightly brushed his fingers against your pulsating hole, while his breath tickled the back of your neck.

"F-fuck.." you whined out quietly, squeezing your eyes shut and silently praying the prince would just stick his wet fingers in there. Your legs trembled as they rested on either side of the arm chair with Diavolo's arm hooked around one of them, forcing your legs wide open while his other hand teased you.

Hearing you curse made him let out a degrading chuckle. You felt his fingers spread open your folds as he peered over your shoulder to gaze at your entrance.

"That is beautiful. It's practically waiting to be filled up, isn't it?~" with that statement, he gave that same old laugh he always did.

You felt your heart pound inside your chest as if it was being clenched. The amount of sweat increased along with the heat in the atmosphere. The sound of your heavy breathing, alongside your moans was music to his ears. And he lived for it.

This was just the start of it all. You knew deep down that you have been craving this for a long while, with hopes that your moans and pleads would satisfy him enough to give you what you've always wanted.

"My dear Y/N, allow me to pleasure you and treat you like a queen/king tonight. Just say the word and I will grant you every single one of your wildest dreams..."

[killerskillercaptain]

Embarrassing moments w/ Levi Ackerman BOOK II

I only put one incident in this one because inspiration was running wild and things got out of hand, so enjoy !

You can read BOOK ONE here

word count : 1,9K

warnings : implicit seggsual themes, slight angst.

The client incident

Erwin had put you and Levi on a special mission; both of you received one letter from the commander urging you to go meet Balkus Adomas, a businessman whom Erwin was used to work with to get funds for the SC, and god knows the Survey Corps needed that financial support lately. With all the casualties, injured horses and used up equipment you lost in your encounter with the female titan, you could definitely use some help, any help actually.

The letter instructed Levi to tie up the negotiations, as Erwin had already sent a letter to Balkus, stating the nature of the visit; the letter also instructed Levi to take you with him to officialize everything on legal documents.

Levi sent one letter back to Erwin asking the commander about the nature of the business this man held. Three days later, the response consisted of a short sentence that wasn’t very helpful, and its vagueness didn’t make Levi happy; he hated being kept in the dark about the people he needed to work with.

The letter only said « « You’ll know when you get there »

The next morning, right after dawn, you and Levi were already on your horses, heading to the small town situated in the west, where the businessman was to be found. It was a good four hours ride, but you were accustomed by now to even longer distances.

Reaching your destination, Levi followed Erwin’s instructions, it didn’t take long for you two to find the location. Heading towards the main entrance, you couldn’t help but notice the frowning faces locals threw at you while passing you by. The place was an old, seemingly neglected property, it didn’t look like a business run by a rich businessman who could land money to the military, and you could sense that levi was thinking the same. You stood there studying the poorly maintained building for a moment until the main door suddenly flew open and a little round man, probably in his forties appeared with a dangling woman at his arm, the woman was laughing uncontrollably while planting kisses alongside the man’s neck, both of them completely ignoring the accusing stares being directed towards them.

Is this a tavern ?

Wait no.

You felt your legs tremble a little, and you suddenly felt embarrassed at the realization : it was a brothel. And the cheap kind by the looks of it.This Balkus Adomas runs a freaking brothel. Slightly alarmed, as this was completely out of your comfort zone, you glanced nervously at Levi who didn’t show any sign of tension. But little did you know, the short man was infuriated and boiling under the surface.

You on the other hand, were visibly stressed out. In a moment of hesitation you wanted to grab Levi’s hand like a child lost in an adult place but you managed to hold your composure, and decided to follow him by staying as close as possible to him. Levi headed rapidly to a broad bearded man, he looked like he was the receptionist or something of the sort, Levi asked if he could see Adomas.

" You should have been notified we were coming, we’re sent by Erwin Smith "

" Yes, yes this good old’ Erwin Smith, he said he’ll send someone ! "

The way the man said « good old’ Erwin Smith » made it look somewhat suspicious, and you wondered if the commander was fond of such places as it hardly seemed so to you.

" Well Lord Adomas is not here now, but you can wait for him, he comes early in the morning to do some accounting, as you see, the business is running wild lately "

" You can spend the night here if you want " he added.

You felt Levi tense up.

" Erwin will hear me about it, making us stay the night, not even being able to get an appointment correctly " you heard Levi mumble to himself between greeted teeth. You could clearly see now that this place is stressing him just as much.

" Don’t worry, Erwin Smith has always been good to us, intervening for us every time something threatened to close this place, and get Lord Adomas out of business, so we owe him big time "

You somehow got reassured that this was the nature of their connection to Erwin.

" I’m gonna give you a room to stay in for the night for free, it’s on the house "

He dangled a golden key in front of us, but when levi reached out to take it, the man retracted his hand behind the counter, a mischievous smile contorting his lips.

" Unless you want to spend the night as a customer Captain Levi ? "

Levi snatched the key from the man who now turned to you, completely ignoring the short captain.

" Hey miss, you’re not bad either, have you ever thought about leaving the army ? We could get you a job here, you’ll see, Lord Adomas treats his employees with extra care " he ended his speech with a nasty tone that had you both in such discomfort that you could almost feel Levi’s anger and you shivered at the way he said extra care. Dragging you by the collar of your military jacket, Levi headed with you towards the stairs, in search for the right bedroom while you followed him closely. As you were afraid of; the walls were incredibly thin in this place, and discernible sounds could be heard from each door. A series of thuds, creaks and lewd voices which you did your best to ignore, while you and the captain hurried to find the right door. Being here with Levi made this whole situation so much more uncomfortable, and right now, you cursed yourself for being the only person capable (and available) to do the paperwork, you hated that you were in charge, you hated that your signature was required, you-

" Here’s the shitty door "

You looked at the door, it was situated at a fair distance from the others, but didn’t look as damaged, maybe it didn’t get used a lot, or at least you hoped.

A demanding and urgent female voice erupted suddenly, close enough that both of you could hear it clearly. You tried to ignore how shaky your legs were now, you tried to focus on Levi opening the door but your eyes met a trembling Levi having difficulties opening the door, his hand too shaky to insert the key right, obviously he was just as startled as you were. When both of you finally heard a reassuring click, he slammed open the door with a "Tch"!

" Can’t believe this mess Erwin put us in, he’ll hear me about it ! "

You followed him inside. The room seemed fairly in order, didn’t seem to be too dusty, you sighed in relief, but your relief was short-lived, it sure wasn’t dusty but it did look completely unsanitary, no wonder this place gets threatened to be closed so often.

" Tch ! I’m taking fifty showers after this, and i’m gonna scrub my feet with Erwin’s- "

" Um Captain ? "

" WHAT ? " he asked harshly, getting you a bit startled by his tone.

Hey don’t lash out at me, it’s not my fault we’re in this mess.

" There’s only one bed "

" You can have it, i’m not sleeping in this filth "

" Neither do i , Captain " you said picking up a long strand of hair from the pillow and studying it before tossing it aside. The place was filthy.

But to both your consolation, there were two chairs made out of wicker that seemed not too risky to use.

You took the one on the left, Levi took the one on the right before looking at you.

" We’ll wait here until this Adomas piss of shit shows up so we can get it done with the paperwork and get out of this filthy hell " and those were the only words he spoke to you for the rest of night.

You were already feeling a bit sleepy, all the exhaustion caused by the trip creeping back to you. You had dozed off for what seemed like half an hour before you were awaken by new sounds rising abruptly from the next room. You jolted in your seat, the unsettling sounds of moans and boastful voices filling the room quickly, followed by a string of giggles, then another string of incomprehensible moany gibberish. You couldn’t make up a single word but you understood all too well the activities taking place in the other room. Still trying to compose yourself and get rid of the embarrassment sucking you in you right now, you suddenly remembered that you weren’t alone in the room, and turned quickly to look for the captain.

Levi was still sitting in his chair, you realized he had moved it away from you, almost placing himself at the other corner of the room, his fists tightening on his knees, he had the most irritated expression you’ve ever seen on his face, he looked like he was ready to snap a neck in half. Was it possible that he has been awake the entire time while you were sleeping ? Having to listen to the most indecent events going on next door ?

He was staring right in front of him, he looked as if he was trying to avert your gaze, afraid that a single stare shared between you two at this moment would aggravate the discomfort, and he was spot on.

Now the lewd voices were joined by the most obscene of sounds. You could feel your face, your hands and everything in between grow hot, you tried your best to keep a steady composure and not look at Levi who was incredibly silent at the other end of the room. Damn it, the smutty opera next door got you so alert you couldn’t even hope to sleep it off so you don’t have to endure this unbearable atmosphere.

You stayed like this until dawn. You and the captain, sitting stiff with both your hands glued to your thighs like two Egyptian statues while the auditory nuisance went on, all fucking night.

For a brief moment you heard Levi mutter something that you deciphered as « Erwin you piss of shit, you’re gonna pay for this»

--

You did get to Balkus Adomas the next day at the crack of dawn, he did accept to continue supporting the Scouts, you did go through the administration stuff you were dragged in here for. You even had Adomas make the same suggestion to you as the bearded receptionist; offering you to leave your uncomfortable scouting uniform for something else, vaunting about how much you can get paid in one night here, nothing like you meager salary at the Scouts for sure ! At one point you literally had to forcefully take off his hand that he sneakily placed on the small of your back. At the sight of it, Levi snatched the documents, handed a copy to Adomas and hurried you and himself out of the place.

Back to HQ, you were happy to reunite with your bed, ready to recover from last night. You shared your quarters with Petra, laying on your mattress, you filled her in about what happened to you with the captain as she bursted with laughter at every detail you gave her.

The next day, Levi was nowhere to be found as you went to his office as usual. You asked one of the soldiers where if he'd seen the captain and he just shrugged his shoulders, saying that Levi left a message for you as the soldier gave you a folded piece of paper.

« Going to see Erwin for a special meeting ».

[raewritez]

just a bit of meddling

based on this request: ah hi ! do you have any request rules? bc i'd love to see a zuko x reader with a little bit of platonic sokka x kyoshi warrior! reader mixed in as sokka tries to the reader up with zuko !! much love <3

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

Zuko’s head rested in his hands as he poured over the seemingly never-ending sea of documents sent from around the four nations. His face contorted into a focused expression, eyebrows furrowed and his bottom lip between his teeth. He sighed, running a hand through his hair and messing up his intricate hairstyle in the process. His head snapped up at the creak of a door, his eyes softening when they locked with yours.

“Y/n” he breathed.

“Hey Fire Lord,” you smiled playfully. “What’re you up to? Not overworking yourself again, I hope.” He shook his head, his lips quirking up at the ends. “You know I’d never do that, Y/n.”

You snorted at that, recalling the several times this week alone when you’d had to drag Zuko away from his desk in order to get him to take care of himself. He had a tendency to neglect basic needs like food and sleep, and instead invest himself in reading through massive piles of paperwork that seemed to grow with every passing day. 

He glanced up at your small laugh, a soft smile gracing his lips. A smirk blossomed from underneath your face paint.

“Sure, Fire Lord. I’m sure Katara will be thrilled to hear that one.” He gulped nervously, the wrath of the waterbender all too familiar to him. Her motherly instincts, although something Zuko greatly appreciated at times, were a force to be reckoned with.

Y/n smiled amusedly at his worried expression. “Well, I guess we’ll find out soon enough.” Right, Zuko thought. That’s tomorrow. He had been eagerly awaiting the arrival of his friends in the Fire Nation for weeks, excited to again be surrounded by his little family. Y/n was excited too, overtime she had grown privileged enough to be able to call the Gaang some of her best friends and had missed them dearly during all these months apart. 

Serving as the Fire Lord’s bodyguard along with the rest of your fellow warriors proved to be a wonderful, albeit tiresome experience. On top of the attempts on Zuko’s life and the Fire Nation’s clashes with the Earth Kingdom, he had elected to keep you particularly close to him as sort of a personal protector along with Suki. Or maybe as a friend. You considered it your responsibility as his friend to look out for him, whether that meant kicking some bad guy’s ass or taking Zuko’s mind off his work with lighthearted conversations and turtle-duck ponds. Zuko found that he quite enjoyed your company, a warm feeling encompassing his being whenever you were in his radius. In the depths of his work, he found himself craving your presence; your smile, your laugh, the constant light you seemed to emit without trying.

You were about to offer him your hand and lead him away to the palace gardens as you always did, maybe sneak a fruit tart or two from the kitchens, when a knock on the door cut you off. 

From the shadows of the crimson hallways emerged one of the palace’s many servants, a timid look upon his round face.

“Fire Lord, sir, the Yu Dao ambassador is here to speak with you.”

Zuko’s content expression hardened into a stern one, offering a curt nod to the servant. “Thank you.”

The man scurried out of the room, leaving the two of you in silence once again. Zuko’s hand rose to pinch the bridge of his nose, a stressed expression overtaking his features. You slowly approached him, lifting your hand to softly squeeze his shoulder.

“Hey, Zuko” you spoke tenderly. “Don’t worry too much. I know tensions have been high in the colonies, but you’ll figure it out. You always do.”

He looked up at you gratefully, his face relaxing a bit at your supportive words and comforting smile. “Thank you, Y/n.”

You nodded and escorted yourself out of the office, oblivious to the way Zuko’s gaze lingered after you until you were out of sight.

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

You stood guard outside the palace entrance, the warmth of the sun a welcome sensation against your skin and a cool breeze swaying the green fabric of your dress. A small smile played at the corners of your lips, embracing the peaceful atmosphere.

Until it was violently disrupted.

You were suddenly sent to the ground, a heavy weight crushing you to the pavement. You stiffened, scolding yourself for being caught off guard and preparing to attack the intruder when you felt a familiar laugh vibrate against you. 

“Sokka,” you rasped out, grinning. 

“Hey Y/n/n! How’s palace life been treating ya?”

You chuckled and shoved him off of you, peering at his face while shielding your eyes from the sunlight. His usual wolf-tail was in place, his hair a bit disheveled from the airborne ride.

A beaming smile overtook your features, scanning the courtyard for the rest of your friends. 

“Appa!” you yelled gleefully.

Sokka scoffed. “Oh sure, say hi to the bison and not your best friend. Typical.” 

You snickered and reached up to ruffle his hair, causing an annoyed expression to contort his face. You launched yourself forward, finding solace in the familiarity of his presence. “Hey, Sokka.”

He smiled softly and hugged you back. You pulled back, studying your best friend’s face for a minute before speaking. 

“But seriously, where’s Appa?”

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

You approached the group, familiar barks of laughter and playful insults ringing in your ears. Your eyes lit up when you noticed Zuko, an elated look upon his scarred face.

“Y/n!” 

A voice boomed next to you, followed by a harsh punch against your arm.

“Ow. Hey, Toph,” you chuckled, rubbing the sore spot.

Her clouded eyes crinkled at the edges, a wide smile visible on her pale face. “Never thought I’d say this, but I missed you, Sunshine.”

You playfully rolled your eyes at her show of affection, and placed your arm around her shoulders. “Yeah, I missed you too,” you smirked, not revealing how much you had ached for your friend’s company in your time apart.

Your smiling eyes locked on to cool blue ones, Katara’s soft face coming into view. You pulled away from Toph, pulling Katara closer and throwing your arms around her.

“Hi, Katara,” you breathed out. “I missed you.” She smiled and pulled you tighter, having missed her friend deeply.

“I missed you too, Y/n.”

You stayed like that for a few seconds, until a familiar tattooed head inserted itself in the embrace.

“Group hug, everyone!” Aang yelled. You could hear Zuko groan.

You laughed lightly, you had missed your little family.

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

“So, you and the Fire Lord, huh?”

Your eyes snapped over to Sokka’s smug expression, a sly smile on his lips.

You scoffed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Zuko and I are just friends.”

“Suuuuure,” he drawled, walking alongside you through the palace corridor. “So that explains why the two of you were making goo-goo eyes at each other all through dinner.” “What?! We were not!” You laughed, playfully shoving Sokka away from you.

“You totally were, Y/n/n. Seriously, you two are giving me oogies.”

You rolled your eyes, turning your head in attempt to hide your blush. Sure, you and Zuko were good friends. And sure, he might be super attractive...and kind... and his voice might make you weak at the knees, but no! You two were just friends. Sokka doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

“You’re blushing aren't you.” “Shut up!” you giggled, glaring at him in exasperation.

“Y/n, everyone can tell you like each other. The only people who don’t seem to get that are you and Zuko!”

You shook your head, your eyebrows furrowing. “Sokka, that’s not true.”

He looked at you with a disbelieving expression. 

“It’s not true!” you insisted. “Zuko definitely doesn’t like me like that, and even if he did...he’s the Fire Lord! It’s my duty to protect him, feelings would only jeopardize that” You weren’t sure if you were trying to convince Sokka or yourself.

“So...you do like him.”

“I’ll kill you.”

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

“Hey, buddy!”

Zuko looked up from his desk, the a figure dressed in blue infiltrating his office.

“Hey, Sokka,” the young Fire Lord grinned. Sokka perched himself atop the windowsill, trying to look casual.

“So...how’ve you been? Haven’t seen much of you.” Zuko frowned. “I know, I’m sorry,” he sighed. “I promise I’ll take off work as soon as this agreement is settled. I’ve been in here all day, hopefully I’ll be done by this evening.”

Sokka perked up. “All day, huh? So I guess that means Y/n hasn't visited.”

Zuko eyed him with suspicion. “No...she hasn’t. She’s probably out with the others.”

Sokka nodded thoughtfully. “Uh huh. So, Zuko. Would you say you’ve missed Y/n today?”

His scarred face contorted in confusion. “Um...I guess so?”

“Mhm. You enjoy the breaks you spend with her, don’t you?”

“Sokka...where are you going with this.” Sokka groaned in irritation. “You two are impossible! When are you going to tell her, man?”

He blinked. “Tell her what?”

Sokka practically threw himself on the floor. “That you like her!” he exclaimed.

Zuko stared at him, half in annoyance at his dramatics and half in bewilderment at his abrupt statement.

“I, what?”

“You’re so oblivious,” Sokka muttered. “Look, it’s obvious you two are in love with each other, why don’t you just tell her?”

Now that had Zuko’s head reeling. “What? She doesn’t like me, Sokka.”

“Yes she does!” he exclaimed. “She basically admitted to it last night!” He knew you would probably follow through with your death threat against him if you knew he snitched, but you needed some serious help. You and Zuko were both too blind to notice the other’s obvious feelings, and as both of yours best friend, he was required to take matters into his own hands.

Zuko’s mind was in shambles, echoes of denial bouncing around his head. There was no way you liked him. I mean, you were a Kyoshi Warrior! You were an amazing fighter and an even more amazing friend. You were everything, and he was, well, Zuko. The troubled Lord of the Fire Nation, and your friend. There was no way.

Sokka’s ranting subsided at Zuko’s pensive expression, his hand dropping in a comforting pat against his shoulder.

“Look buddy, it’s obvious. If you don’t believe me, Toph can tell. And let me tell you, your heart rate when she’s around, it’s-” he cut himself off at Zuko’s pointed glare, clearing his throat. “Anyway. You need to tell her, man. You don’t wanna lose her.”

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

 Tears threatened to spill from your eyes, laughter bubbling from deep inside you. Suki and Toph were currently reenacting The Boy in the Iceberg, the Ember Island play the six of them had seen while hiding from the Fire Nation. Katara’s face was in her hands, a blush rising to her face as the two of them acted out a scene between her and Zuko taking place in the catacombs of Ba Sing Se.

Suki placed a dramatic kiss on Toph’s cheek, having just professed her undying love for “Katara”.

You looked between the two of them unsurely. “That didn’t happen, right?”

“No, it didn’t!” Aang exclaimed, his expression mirroring Katara’s. You chuckled, someone was jealous.

At that moment the door swung open, Sokka bounding in as Zuko’s amber eyes locked with yours. You raised your eyebrows in question at his intense gaze before being snapped back by Suki’s shrieks as Sokka tackled her to the floor.

You giggled, the warmth that your friends brought you consuming your being. Zuko plopped down next to you on the sofa, sending you a sideways grin. You reciprocated, leaning closer to him.

“You never told me about this play, it’s fantastic!”

“What pl-” he started, realization appearing in his eyes. “Spirits, not this again.”

You laughed loudly, reaching up to ruffle his hair. He gazed at you fondly, a soft smile upon his plush lips. You two stared at each other, seemingly lost in each other’s eyes before an arm yanked on yours.

“Come on, Sunshine, we’re going to the gardens,” Toph spoke, pulling you along with her.

“Oh. We are?”

“Um, yeah? Didn’t you hear us talking? Or were you too busy staring at Sparky over there.”

You groaned, had your friends always been this irritating? The seven of you made your way to the palace garden, sunlight filtering through the trees. The sky was painted with ochre and magenta, casting a glow upon your skin. Zuko noticed.

Resounding laughter and cheerful conversation carried throughout the evening, memories of old adventures recounted and an aura of comfort prevailing. 

As the last rays of sun faded away and yawns emerged from people’s mouths, the group headed off to sleep. 

Until tomorrow, you thought fondly.

You were about to turn in for the night yourself when you noticed a lone figure standing by the turtle-duck pond. Your lips turned upwards, your feet carrying you over to his slender form.

Zuko side-glanced at you when you planted yourself next to him, the splashing of turtle-ducks creating ripples in the pristine water. He watched as you chuckled at their antics, grinning, before opting to lower yourself onto the cool grass and lay back, face turned towards the heavens. He gazed at you for a moment before lying beside you, peering up at the sky. The orange beams had morphed into deep blue, dots of light beginning to awaken from above.

You turned your attention from the aerial wonder to the man laying beside you. His hair was down, just the way you liked it, and he had traded his usual formal attire for a simple tunic. He looked at peace, his face free of any contortions and his lips resting in a content smile.

“Pretty,” he said, still looking at the sky.

“Yeah,” you replied, tracing the curve of his nose with your eyes.

His head slowly turned towards yours, amber irises meeting e/c ones. He was beautiful. The lovely rouge of his scar contrasting against his pale skin...from this close you could count the freckles that dotted his nose.

His eyes shone with adoration, yearning pulling at his heartstrings, begging him to close the gap between you.

He didn’t have to worry about that though, as you hesitantly pushed forward and pressed your lips against his. His eyes widened momentarily before he eagerly reached up to cup your face, bringing you closer to him. Your breath caught in your throat, the rush of confidence slowly fading as it transformed into an easy contentment.

His lips moved slowly and gingerly against yours, his fingers tangling in your hair as this thumb brushed against your bare cheek. His heart was full, relief and elation washing over him like the tide. All his doubt and insecurities melted away, the only thing that mattered was that you were here and you were kissing him. A nagging voice in the back of his head told him that Sokka had been right, but he pushed that annoying thought away with another sigh against your mouth.

You slowly puled apart, lips brushing together as a last quest to pledge yourselves to each other. When your breathing calmed and your eyes met his, a small chuckled emerged from the both of you. You leaned forward once more, pressing a chaste kiss against his slightly swollen lips. It didn’t matter that you were a Kyoshi Warrior and he was the Fire Lord, all that mattered was that you were exactly where you were supposed to be. Smiles rested upon both your mouths, his arms pulling you forwards so that your head rested against his chest. The steady thumping of his heart assured you that this was real, that this wasn’t some dream you had conjured inside your head. As you lay there under the stars, sweet whispered nothings being carried away by the soft breeze, you both relished in your newfound discovery that your sanctuary was in each other.

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

Unbeknownst to you, two figures were huddled in the bushes that line the outskirts of the palace. A pouch of coins was begrudgingly passed from one hand to another.

“Thank you very much,” a voice spoke with a tone that reeked smugness.

“Oh, shut up Sokka. Of course they just had to smooch tonight. All they had to do was wait one more day!”

“Don’t be a sore loser, Toph. It was too easy, a little assurance was all they needed.”

“Hey, you meddled! That’s totally not fair!”

“I wouldn’t say meddled, more like nudged in the right direction.”

“You’re so annoying.”

“Hey, you love me.”

“Sure, Snoozles.”

A rock hit his head.

“Ow! Toph!” he groaned, Toph’s chuckles echoing through the silence.

[jangofctts]

Are You in Or Out?

Rated: Explicit 

Word count: 11.5K yall I am SORRY

Warnings: good lord y'all here we GO-- smut, explicit language, violence and mentions of blood and gore, injuries, unprotected sex (don't be a dick, wrap that stick!), oral (m&f receiving), blindfolding, vaginal and anal fingering, vaginal and anal sex, double penetration, spit is used as lube but for the love of GOD doNT DO THAT, there are some dom vibes on Paz’s end    

Summary: The job you’re on takes a turn for the worst--Paz comes to your rescue and you're brought to the Covert. There you meet Din Djarin. though during a good natured sparring session, you’re suddenly stuck between an age old rivalry that spirals out of hand. Hopefully an agreement can be met. 

a/n: hey...how y’all doin....SO lemme explain you smthn. I said helmets must be OfF--giv me them LIPS BABEY so this is a slight AU in which mandos can see other mandos’ faces. ya get me? I also tHot that it would be nice and fun to set the timeline 5-6 years BEFORE the plot of the Mandalorian so we gots a younger din here. anyway, as always enjoy and I hope you like!!

Mistakes, mistakes, mistakes—

Some as little as burning your finger on the nozzle of a smoking blaster or tripping over your own shoelaces. Simple things. Mindless things. 

Nothing that could ever compare to the catastrophic decision of picking up bounty hunting as a reliable source of income. 

The little ones were easy—tax evaders and deserters of the Empire—most who’d yield and gladly follow without complaint just at the sight of your blaster pointed between their eyes. And the gag of it is—most of the time you never bothered to load the damn thing. 

Reckless.

An invitation for disaster. 

But skirting that precarious edge, one little slip up away from plunging head first into inevitable trouble is better than Bracca. Stars—anything is better than Bracca. There’s no glory in bounty hunting but there’s even less in ship scrapping. Abysmal pay in exchange for risking your life on rain slicked metal with only the Ibdis Maw to break your fall.  

The guild you work for is considerate—scratch that. Greef Karga is considerate. Sure the flirting is a touch unbearable but it saves your ass in the long run. All easy money bounties set aside for you in exchange for a cheap drink, hollow laughs and sugar sweet smiles. 

It’s enough credits to get by—more than plenty to rent a room and charter a ship. 

But there’s only so many bounties to capture within the limits of the guild and oh so many people the empty blaster trick works on. And so the credits begin to thin; it gets too expensive to buy off a pilot and the debate over buying food or being able to pay for your room becomes more frequent than the scraprats that skitter inside the walls.  

It’s suicide to snag a higher paying bounty because....well—these bounties shoot back. 

Whatever.

 Might as well die trying. Who knows, maybe you could score big time if you manage to pull this off. 

Maybe. 

                                                       -=-=-=-

You’re not sure who’s more surprised—Karga when you asked for the bounty or yourself when he actually gave it to you. 

“Are you sure, kid? This could—“

“End in a fiery shitshow? Yeah—I figured that,” you sigh, swirling your drink with a little complimentary toothpick. “But I need the money.” 

“Hah! You’ve got guts, girl.” He flashes you a smile and smooths down his mustache with his thumb and forefinger. “Tell you what. The last assignment was just taken but I’m sure if you run you could catch him. Work somethin’ out.”

Jumping from your seat, you throw on your coat and toss a couple credits onto the table to cover the drink. “What’s he look like?” 

“Big fellow—Mandalorian. You’ll know when you see him.”

You shout your thanks over your shoulder and hightail outta there. The landing docks aren’t far, you can see them from here. It’s finding the guy that could pose a problem.

If he hasn’t already left, you bitterly think. 

However, it seems the universe is on your side today. Karga was right. He is big. Stands out like a sore thumb against his ship that glitters dully in the overcast sky. Kinda like an oversized blueberry. A yellow and blue blueberry….not important—

“Hey! Hey, you!” You’re so close, just a couple yards away. You swear and hurry up your pace as he steps onto the loading ramp. “Big guy! Large...blue man?”

You trip over your own feet as he turns his head. Fuck—

No way are you gonna be able to bargain with this guy. Built like a fucking AT-AT and probably just as stubborn. After all, no one would ever be dumb enough to come between a Mandalorian and their quarry. You grimace, and suck in a breath—

Before a word even leaves your mouth he interrupts with a steady, unwavering;

“No.”

Your brows furrow. “I didn’t even say anything!”

“I know what you were going to ask,” he huffs, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “I work alone.”

Ok, then. You didn’t want to resort to begging, but you’re kinda running out of options here. You take a steadying breath and plant yourself at the bottom of the ramp. “C’mon man. Look—I’ll let you take seventy percent of the cut and I can—“

“You’ll let me?” He repeats, the staticky tone of his voice dropping into an edge more cutting than broken transparisteel. The metal platting on the ramp vibrates from the weight of his step to move closer; Stars it takes every fucking inch of willpower to hold your ground. “You’re lucky if I let you leave with your life. Get lost.” 

Fuckfuckfuck—you should listen. You wanna fucking run for the hills and never look back in case he comes looking to purge your name from the kriffing galaxy. You clench your jaw and steel your nerves. Too bad—you’ve dug your heels so far into this empire of dirt and false bravado that your only way out is continuing to poke the sleeping bear until he snaps your spine or caves.

You have to crane your neck to glare into that dark strip of his vizor, seeing as he’s invited himself into your personal space. “No.”  

“No?” He mocks, now toe to toe with your scuffed up boots. 

Your teeth clench, a scalding flush burning through your cheeks and all the way down to your chest. He’s toying with you—finding amusement in your stubbornness and apparent lack of braincells for challenging him. “You don’t scare me.” 

The man hums, a deep purr that rumbles through his entire ribcage as he raises his gloved hand. You curse yourself for flinching because surely he’s about to crush your skull like a fucking grape, but no. All he does is fix your rumbled collar then pat your cheek.     

“I don’t need the extra baggage.”

“I’m not baggage,” you sneer, slapping his hand away. “I can handle myself.” 

“With an empty blaster?” He points out, tipping his head to the side. “Your parlor tricks won’t do you any good on this job.”

“I’m a good shot!” You sputter, placing your hands over you hips and mustering up your best glare. “W-when I have ammo…” 

“Right.”

Meeting Paz Vizsla, could have gone far better, to put it into the most simplest of words. Jagged and hard to settle into a routine around each other for the journey to Nar Shaddaa in a tiny, old, and cramped freighter ship. Most cycles you have to wedge yourself beside a cargo crate to sleep. In addition to that, how it’s able to break through the atmosphere let alone fly is beyond you—an entire mystery on its own.       

At least you’re able to sit in the spare seat inside the cockpit—one of the only places available to stretch your legs. The only problem is that it’s also where Paz Vizsla likes to lurk (well, not lurk—it’s his ship and it’s where he can comfortably fit but—to each their own). 

There’s a net of tension still woven between you—each interaction like tiptoeing over eggshells. Though, like all things, it becomes simpler. There’s not exactly any ongoing conversations—you don’t want to pry into a life you know nothing about—it’s not your business despite the cumulation of questions that linger in the back of your mind. You know when to take a hint—not every person is willing to indulge you about their livelihood, and surely not something as secretive and well guarded as the Mandalore.  

Familiarity is what you want to call it. Comfortable with each other’s presence with small talk speckled in throughout the never-ending vastness of hyperspace. Compared to the infinite turmoil in your life, slippery footholds and uncertainty—Paz Vizsla is steady. In a way— predictable and safe in the confines of this ship.       

You’d even go as far as to label him kind, a friend maybe—if you look past the grumpiness and rather poor taste in corny jokes. You know it’s stupid, no doubt stemming from the deep ache of loneliness that comes hand in hand with staking it out on your own in the galaxy; but you can’t help but wish that this could be a new normal. Not some once in a lifetime thing where you both part ways, fade into the recesses of memory and leave it at that. 

If things go well—and rarely do they on a job—maybe you’d pluck up enough courage to ask him if you could stay. There’s no harm in it…right?

                                                 -=-=-=-

Well—the cynical part of you was right.

It did end up in a fiery shit show. 

Turns out the stupid quarry you’d been tracking excelled in long range weaponry. A former marksman for the Empire to be exact. Guess that tidbit of information wasn’t pertinent. A need to know sorta thing, if you will. 

You feel the molten bolt of plasma connect with your side before your ears pick up the sound of a weapon firing, like a crack of lighting in the empty alleyway. And before your body even connects with the duracrete, Paz is returning fire. A brilliant neon red against the hazy blur of shadowy buildings.  

Kinda weird how knocking the back of your head hurts worse than the literal blaster wound burned into your side. Shock maybe. Or the heat from the plasma cauterized each veins and artery it tore through and ate away at flesh and nerves. Hm…          

You’re sprawled in a wet pool of something—either your own blood or a puddle of stagnant gutter water and damn—you’re wearing your favorite shirt.

It doesn’t matter at this point…

You’re choking on your own air from the big ass hole blasted into your diaphragm, so to say things are looking grim is an understatement.  

Nar Shaddaa isn’t your first choice to kick the can on, but hey—not everyone gets the luxury of dying on Naboo. And just as you’re ready to slip away into that sweet, sweet abyss, it seems your fellow armored friend has other plans. 

The beskar is freezing against your cheek after he deadlifts you off the duracrete—you remember that plain as day. That and the hushed rumble of Paz’s voice insisting you save your dwindling supply of air instead of apologizing to him—or ordering you to stay alive for kriff’s sake. It’s impossible to argue with Paz—like trying to bite through durasteel, and while those beckoning tendrils of eternal slumber are mighty tempting, you cling to your life with all the strength you have left. After all, inconveniencing someone with a corpse is such a party foul to the highest degree.    

The rest is muddled—like dredging up silt and clay in a murky river that just leaves you with a pounding headache between your eyes. It’s a terrible mess of pain and bouts of temporary consciousness, mistaken with fever dreams and yup—more pain. The only consistent is Paz—hovering nearby or settled beside you—through thick and thin as you heal. 

There’s no solid reason your brain can conjure as to why he brought you to the Covert—it’d have been easier to just dump you at the nearest hospital and be done with it. You’re not his responsibility and you’re too afraid to ask what it means. Too many possibilities—too many answers you aren’t in the mood to face or untwist.     

And so you leave it be, set aside for another time—which brings you to the present day…        

You’re splayed over your little makeshift cot, feet propped up on a spare pillow as you scour through a cheesy Coruscanti gossip magazine. It’s years old—the only piece of entertainment you could find other than a weapon in the Covert. And seeing as a massive hole had been blasted through your ribcage, picking up the clever art of throwing vibroblades or shooting targets to pass the time was out of the question.   

Even if you’d rather fall into a Sarlaac pit than stare at the wall for hours on end yet again—it hasn’t been all that bad. It’d taken weeks before you regained enough strength to sit up on your own, let alone walk—and walking is putting it lightly. It was more of a stiff legged shuffle better suited on a two hundred year old woman seconds from disintegrating into dust at the mere hint of a breeze.  

Not to mention—your right lung was all but shredded. Ripped apart from the plasma bolt and miraculously reconstructed by a more than questionable bacta tank, hopeful thoughts and well wishes. To this very day you still sound like a broken air filter. 

Eh.    

Could be worse. 

At least you aren’t dead. 

Just another setback that adds on the growing pile of reasons why never to leave the Covert. Free food, free board and mild entertainment to top it off. Paz had stayed at your bedside for the most part while you recovered—stuck with babysitting your sorry ass until you regained a bit of mobility. The times Paz hadn’t been at your side to stave off the boredom, it was up to you to find your own fun. 

Snooping is what Paz had labeled it—but you saw it more as an adventure. You met Din Djarin exploring (lost is what you actually were) in the dimly lit underbelly of Nevarro, after all. Yes, you may have scared the ever loving shit out of the poor guy and yes, he may have singed off your brows with a five foot jet of fucking fire—but hey. No one got hurt.        

And you made a new friend. Sorta…Din is difficult to read, subtler in his soft spoken words and quiet demeanor. A bit like a skittish loth-cat at the start, but nowadays it’s not uncommon to find him lounging in the same space as you or hovering over your shoulder, awfully curious in whatever it is you choose to do. Like Paz, Din isn’t overly fond of sharing much information about himself but he never complains after you regale tales of your own vastly fascinating past. He seems interested enough—tilts his head a tick to the right when you speak to indicate that yes, he’s listening despite the unforgiving dark line of his visor.      

There are others in the Covert too—some so elusive you have a hard time believing they exist. Shadows of what they once were before the rise of the Empire. And so, you count yourself lucky that you’d been introduced to two others—Aeris Fenn, a young man nearly as tall as a Wookie, and a woman named Ives Arrey; her armor a flashy green—damn near florescent in the light. 

They’re nice enough company. Aeris is a chatterbox, his wit sharper than a blade but lacking in any forethought before he speaks. Ives is the far opposite—rolls each sentence in her mouth before she voices it, but in no way is she angelic. Maker—you’d bet your entire left asscheek she’s behind each bad decision and silly shenanigans Aeris sticks his nose into. He never learns—not after a harsh chiding or cuff around the helmet from Paz or the Armorer could dampen is childlike enthusiasm or steer him away from repeating the same mistake over and over.  

Though if you read one more kriffing sentence of this garbage magazine you’re about to invite chaos himself to entertain you. Good thing too because just as you sit up to find the red armored Mandalorian—Paz rounds the corner and steps into your little broom closet that hardly passes for a room. 

“Paz!” You greet, tossing the magazine over your shoulder. “Please tell me we’ll be doing something interesting or else I might start ripping my hair out. Or maybe commit a heinous crime—haven't decided yet.”      

Paz grunts and shakes his head. “You’ll be doing neither. But today we’ll be sparing—hopefully that will curve your boredom.”

You scrunch up your face. “Sparring? Er, no thanks—I choose life.” 

“You breathe funny since your injury,” he says, jabbing a finger between your ribs. “And all you’ve been doing lately is laying around.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you sneer, tucking your arms over your chest. “Didn’t realize I was supposed to be running laps with half a lung.”

“It’s like stretching a muscle, you need to gain your strength back.” He retorts. “This will be good for you.” 

You groan and flop back into bed. “I don’t wanna. I was pretty much dead like three cycles ago—cut me some slack, man.”

There’s a brief silence as if he’s mulling over your words, but he’s stubborn. You crane your head to look at him as he says your name with a deep sigh attached to it.   

“Truthfully, I’m surprised you’ve survived this long.” He says it quietly, fragile even, like he’s still expecting you to tip over and die on the spot. You very well might.  

You huff. “Wow. Thanks, Paz.” 

You feel his heavy stare through the helmet. “What happened to you that night was a mistake. It wasn’t preventable but the least I can do is teach you basic selfdefense.”  

You gripe out your complaints but you know you’ve been beat—and well, a bit of your agreement is based on guilt. 

Damn it.  

                                                     -=-=-=-

It’s weird to see Paz without his heavy duty gear—like seeing him naked or a crab without a shell. The only piece he continues to wear is his helmet and padded gloves and under clothes, but it’s still weird. Strange enough that it shocks you tongue into remaining still instead of bitching about this. 

He leads you to a wing of the Covert you’ve yet to discover and ushers you through the doorway. The floor is padded, a bit smaller than you expected and already occupied by none other than Aeris Fenn. 

It’s a whole other kriffing shock to the head seeing him without the plates and layers of fabric and beskar too. The armor makes him bulkier—fuller and much more intimidating. Now, with only his black underclothes on, Aeris could be the spitting image of a sentient tree. Willowy limbs that stick out like branches as he stretches on the padded mat. He lazily swings his head around as you greet him, his face still covered by the black beskar painted with streaks of red. 

“So you choose sparring over knife throwing?” Aeris snorts. “And to think I thought of you as a friend.” 

“You think I chose to be here?” You say, grumpy and still upset at the choice of activity. Really, a brisk walk around the Covert would’ve been fine.

Aeris shrugs. “Ah, and I see you’ve roped in my favorite vod. Tch, he uses his fists instead of his words to teach. I wish you luck—you’ll need it.”      

You open your mouth to retort but Paz beats you to it. 

“Leave.” 

“I’ve just arrived, actually,” Aeris scoffs, folding his torso over his other leg to stretch. “Perhaps you could reschedule. After all—our guest is quite free most days.” 

Welp—you’re perfectly fine with that. Problem solved. 

You spin on your heel and make a break for it but Paz snatches your wrist and pulls you back to his side. “Aeris.”  

“Paz,” Aeris mocks, tipping his helmet to the side. 

Paz exhales, a long, tired sound and grovels out another plea in clipped Mando’a. Aeris languidly stands and brushes off imaginary dust from the front of his pants. “Sorry, what was that? I don’t understand your accent.” 

“Boy—“

“No, no, it’s alright.” Aeris sighs, waving his hand in a mopey display as if he were told that his birthday party were canceled for the fifth year in a row. “I’d have trouble speaking too if my enormously thick head were cooped up in that little bucket of yours all day.”  

You wince. 

In the time you’ve known Paz Vizsla, he’s never been one to launch into rash decisions fueled by anger—he lets it simmer and build like an oncoming storm over the ocean. Devastating once it reaches land.

Aeris bobs his head and inspects his black leather glove, picking at a loose thread on the inseam over the thumb. He clicks his tongue. “Or'dinii—you’re going to kill her.”  

Your offended scoff is ignored as Paz steps forward; jutting his chin up to even out the few inches Aeris holds over the man. “You still haven’t learned to shut your mouth, boy.” 

The tension surges and crackles like a volt of electricity through the air—unresolved and ready to ignite with the sparking embers of Paz’s growing irritation. It’s not a fight Aeris Fenn will win. He’s volatile and hotheaded—but his expertise is in long range weaponry. Precise, deadly and swift—not whatever this little pissing match is heading towards.    

Aeris clicks his tongue as Paz digs a fist into the black fabric of his shirt. Paz yanks him forward, the metallic clink of their helmets colliding an unpleasant scrape that pierces your eardrums. Aeris snarls out sharpened words in Mando’a as his willowy fingers shoot up to curl beneath the lip of Paz’s helmet. 

In the blink of an eye, Paz lifts Aeris up by his collar and launches him across the room like he weighs nothing more than a couple of down pillows. His helmet meets the wall with a resounding clank, chipping some of the red paint outlining the visor. Ouch. 

Like a kicked dog, Aeris clambers to his feet, still dazed and swaying and for a fearful second you think he’ll retaliate. But with whatever braincells he happens to possess today—he instead spits out a venomous curse that even yourself would hesitate to repeat. He leaves without another word, bristling with rage. 

Your flash Paz a questioning stare. “The hell was that about?” 

Paz waves it away with an irritated grunt. “His heart is in the right place but he is young. Aeris doesn’t understand his place in the Covert yet and I doubt he will for years to come.” 

You frown. “Poor guy…” 

Paz mutters something under his breath. “Enough distractions. We’ve wasted enough time already.”

“Y’know…I think that’s enough excitement for today. I think I’ll be going now—“ Your last ditch attempt at weaseling out of this is quickly thwarted the moment you turn your back.  

You wheeze as the heel of Paz’s palm shoves into your shoulder blade, the force of it sending you stumbling to the ground. “Paz—“

“Go on. Hit me,” he orders. You squeak, narrowly avoiding the well aimed kick that skims the top of your scalp. 

You scramble to your feet, skirting out of range of the oncoming right hook. “So you attack me instead?” 

“How do you expect to catch quarries who are bigger than you?” He presses. You hiss as the points of his knuckles dig into the meat of your shoulder. 

You dance out of reach and rub your arm, a dull throb flaring up in the muscle. “I dunno—electrocute them?”

“Not if they take you by surprise.” 

You screech as his knuckles skim your cheek. Adrenaline pierces you veins and you wildly throw a flaky punch that wouldn’t even impress a toddler. He catches your fist with ease, his entire hand dwarfing your clenched fingers. “You can do better than that.” 

You snarl and struggle to rip your hand back. “I’m a scrapper. I don’t fight.”

“No,” he retorts. You fall onto your ass as he abruptly lets go of your hand. “You’re a bounty hunter.” 

You roll your eyes. “Hardly—why can’t I just stay here?”

Although there’s nothing to see with that swatch of black covering his eyes, you can certainly feel the look he’s giving you. A deep sigh hisses through the vocoder. “You can stay here—“

A triumphant smile splits across your face—

“—but not without contributing where it’s due.”

You puff up your cheeks and let out a dismayed stream of air. “Booo—lame.”

He sighs again and helps you off the floor. “Even if you leave the Guild, what I’m teaching you is helpful.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say. “I’ll give you a call after I use your invaluable skills to beat up some thug.”

Paz ignores your comment and turns on his heel. “Let’s go through it again. This time use your front two knuckles instead of your whole fist.”

As your eyes land over the stretch of tight fighting fabric over his back an idea pops into your head. It’s a petty move but getting a punch in is fruitless—like trying to beat up a brick wall. You don’t fancy a broken hand and your knuckles are already bruised and swollen to the point where it’s hard to bend them. 

And so, without any forethought and with a running head start, you launch yourself onto him, your arms coiling around his neck. It does the job—takes him by surprise and makes him tip to the right. 

Aha! Yes!

Your reign of victory is short lived, however—

He latches onto your forearms strung around his neck and yanks. And much in the same way he threw Aeris like a sack of potatoes—you’re no different. For a short stretch of time that feels kriffing endless; you soar through the air, your directional whereabouts violently ripped out beneath you and equally nauseating in the same breath. 

Why you ever agreed to this—you don’t know.   

Your shoulder blade connects with the mat first, leaving behind a dull sting as you roll and tumble with uncontrollable momentum. Oh, yeah—you’ll feel that in the morning. 

Groaning, you thank the Maker that your body eventually settles into a miserable little pile of limbs and pain. But, it seems whatever higher power that lingers in the edges of the galaxy hasn’t decided to put you out of your misery just yet. 

A bulky shadow blocks out the dim lighting overhead, and for a brief anxiety ridden moment you’re afraid it’s Paz. You roll onto your back with a pathetic groan, a beg for mercy on the tip of your tongue—but as your eyes flutter open they’re met with an entirely different man. 

Din Djarin looms over you, his head cocked to the side as you blink in dumbfounded bewilderment. Ah, hell— 

You swallow, a furious heat bitting at your cheeks. “Uh…fine weather we’re having…”

“We’re inside,” he states with a brief glance up to the ceiling. 

You purse your lips. “Huh.”

With a pensive hum he offers his hand, you sigh and roll over, accepting his gloved hand. He hoists you up easily and adjusts your rumpled collar. “You ok?”

“Pfft, yeah,” you groan, rubbing your throbbing shoulder. “Never better.”

The low grumble of your name is a cross between disbelief and irritation. Din jerks his head, his attention zeroing in on Paz. “Are you trying to kill her?” 

“She isn’t made of glass.” 

“She is still recovering—“

Normally you’d intervene, but their bickering is tiring and it gives you the excuse to lie down. By the time one of them caves you’ve counted exactly one hundred and twelve weird ceiling stains. They should get that checked out.  

“Very well,” Paz snarls, cutting through your wandering thoughts. “You teach her.” 

Din scoffs, his shoulders drawn tight as he stomps over to your splayed out self. “Get up.”

“Geez, fine,” you grumble, not in the mood to test his patience further. “Since you asked so nicely.”

Later he’ll no doubt apologize but right now? He has to prove a point. Din cuts right to it, moves in close to place your clenched fists in the right stance and nudges at your feet until they’re a bit wider than hip distance. 

“You have to get in close with a bigger opponent,” he says, stepping into your space until your fists are close enough to touch his chest. “We don’t have much range here—easier to break our guard too.” 

“Right. And how would you suggest I do that?”

“You’re always beating me at cards.” Din says, tipping his head to the side. “You have a clever mind. Use it.” 

“But I always cheat.” You point out, dropping your guard to swat at a stray hair.   

He catches your wrists and returns them to where they ought to be. “Quick enough to get away with it.” 

You make a noise of uncertainty but do as you're told. Din takes a couple steps back and with a rough order you begin. 

He’s faster than Paz—bats at your guard in quick bursts and steps away when you attempt to hit back. It’s a dance almost—somehow elegant in its brutality of bruises and flashes of pain as you move around one another. Compared to Din, Paz is almost clumsy but unpredictable. Din—despite the rapidness of his attacks and evasiveness, becomes predictable.

He steps to to left—you follow. He rocks onto his toes to jab his fist forward and that’s where you find a break. Punching Din’s helmet won’t do you any good but catching the juncture of his shoulder with your elbow is completely feasible. Too bad that you’re not the only one with a clever mind.        

Din uses the momentum of your attack to catapult you to the ground—his own body rolling with you in order to capture you in a headlock of sorts. This sucks. After this you’ll never be setting foot in this Maker forsaken room again. 

Din tightens his elbow that’s looped around your throat as you squirm and flail, trapped against his chest. He grunts as your elbow digs into his ribs but holds steady and snakes his free arm across your front, pinning your limbs to your body in an unbreakable vice. All mobility is cut off as his knee pushes between your thighs, locking your leg out into an uncomfortable and frankly quite awkward angle. 

Inhaling a shaky breath, you arch as the crown of his helmet skims along the curve of your throat; the bite of beskar frigid and startling against your flushed skin. You can see his visor out of the corner of your eye; glittering and dark like the polished obsidian on Black Spire and endless like the greedy maw of a black hole. 

Your breath hitches as he shifts and curls his head closer to your ear. His voice rumbles low and deep through his chest and vibrates against the delicate cartilage. “Yield.” 

However much your pride wrestles with the sensible part of your brain, it’s all for naught as you jerk your head in defeat.  

In retrospect you should’ve said something—used your voice or made some kinda sound because suddenly Din’s forearm digs alarmingly hard into your windpipe. He read the stuttered jerk of your head as another pitiful act of defiance but no. Nope. 

Here you are—asphyxiating.   

Not exactly what you had in mind, being strangled by a Mandalorian and all—but a chokehold where you could very well die was not it. 

Fuzzy darkness begins to shade the corners of your vision, lightheadedness and a curious warmth that prickles down your spine settling low in your belly. A raspy gasp manages to slip through your blocked off airway, and stars why does this feel good?   

“Din—”

Paz’s sharp bark is distant above the ringing in your ears and it all stops.

You gulp in air that burns your throat like refined fire whiskey—hunched over the mat as a large palm rubs soothing circles over your upper back. You cough and roll over, sounding like a dying animal run over by a speeder then hit with a spiked club to polish it off. 

You’re quickly herded into Paz’s arms and pulled into his lap. Still wheezing and attempting to recover lost oxygen, whatever Din is trying to say translates into an indiscernible hum against the ringing in your ears.  

“I’m fine,” you mutter, though neither of them care to listen. Like bristling wolves, snapping at each other’s heels.  

“Apologize to her,” there’s not so much as a centimeter of room to argue. “Now.”           

It’s nice of Paz you suppose—defending your honor and what not, but you’re not a vengeful person. It was an honest mistake and you want to explain that so Din quits looking like a kicked puppy, yet the sudden touch over your ankle stops you. All the times Din has initiated contact it’d been a friendly pat to your shoulder or ruffling you hair, and while touching your ankle isn’t exactly scandalous it’s certainly an odd place to put your hand on. 

Your fingers clutch Paz’s shirt as you eye the man lingering at the bottom of your feet, his gloved thumb unconsciously rubbing patterns into the exposed skin between your boot and your pant leg. “Cyare—I’m sorry.” 

You blink and lick your lips. Interesting. “I-I don’t know what that word means.”

His hand inches higher, resting on the swell of your calf. “Sweetheart…darling…loved one—“ 

There’s a shift—a dark undercurrent that none of you should be dipping your toes into. There’s a million and one things to say or do to sever this at the root, but are you going to? Nah. 

Din’s thumb now rests over your knee, goosebumps following in his wake. “Should I keep going?” 

It too hot—stuffy with both of their heavy stares locked on your flushed face. You squirm and glance up at Paz who only offers an impassive stare. Great.   

“I can make it up to you,” Din continues, his hand stationary—a warm weight even through the fabric of your pants. “If you let me.” 

Your mouth feels drier than the desert on Jakku. This…nothing good could come out of what Din is hinting at. This is uncharted territory—launching yourself into the great unknown without any idea of what’ll fester and grow if you agree. 

It’s not like it hasn’t crossed your mind—it’s just…it’s never been both of them at the same time. These men are short-tempered, an open flame to jet fuel with deeply seated ire woven into the very fabric of their beings. You’ve barely scratched the surface on the inner workings of their mutual hostility, but you’re bright enough to question if this will make it worse. Tinder and brittle twigs feeding and enabling the hungry flames of rivalry to spiral and consume with chaotic brilliance of a dying star—

But, oh—

Isn’t it worth taking the risk? 

You suck in a grounding breath and slowly extend your leg that Din touches, gingerly skimming the toe of your shoe along the inseam of his inner thigh. “H-how would you…make it up to me?”

Din preens at your answer and shuffles closer, lifting your legs so that they rest in his lap. Devotion drips off his words like a fine liquor as he toys with the laces on your boots. “Anything—say it and it’s yours.”    

Sparks of molten heat race down your spine and metastasize in your lower belly, spreading through each vein and artery like a some sort of invasive ivy. You spare a look up at Paz as he shifts.      

“Go ahead, girl,” Paz assures. “Answer him.” 

It’s an unspoken, buzzing sort of thing like the static air before a storm, crackling and surging with pent up energy. You all know the implications of what’s to come—but it’s your words, quiet and steady that irons that nail into your coffin.

“Take me like you mean it.” 

The next few moments pass in a dizzying blur, a mess of anticipation as your shoes are yanked off, your pants following soon after and tossed into some unknown corner of the room. Paz helps you out of your shirt, a shiver wracking through your body from the chill, leaving you bare save for your underthings. Yet the warmth that seeps through his shirt and his hands that linger over your ribcage do a lovely job at making up for the cold.

Din shuffles closer and brings his fingers up to cup the side of your face, lowering his head to rest the crown of his helmet on your forehead. “Wanna touch you.” 

Your breath hitches as Paz’s hands sweep up your torso, cupping and kneading your breasts. “Y-you already are touching me, Din." 

Paz snorts as the rough leather of his gloves scrape over your skin and unhook your bindings. You hardly hear Din over your own whine as Paz rolls your hardened nipples between a forefinger and thumb. 

“I want to feel you—without the gloves,” Din clarifies, fighting to keep your attention on him. “Will you let me?”  

Maker that shouldn’t even be a question. You moan out your approval, delighted that both of them decide to slip off the padded fabric. Din touches your bare thigh the same moment Paz returns his hands to your tits and it’s exhilarating. The rasp of their bare palms against your flesh is addicting—something so foreign and warm compared to their usual armor and thick layered clothing. 

You arch into Paz’s hand as it curls around the base of your throat, a tentative pressure but still heavy. “You’d let us do anything, wouldn’t you? Needy little thing.”

“Yes,” you croak, already debauched and falling apart at the seams. “Anything.”

You’re all too happy to fade away in the embrace of the larger man but the other participant is far from letting that slide. Din grabs your hand, guiding it towards the front of his trousers, the drawstrings already loose and easy to pull aside. He groans and twitches as your fingertips flirt along his navel, then curl over the waistband, tugging his pants the rest of the way down to pool around his knees. 

You reach for the already impressive outline of his cock pressing against his boxers, but Paz cupping your cunt through your underwear just before you touch Din is distracting. You gasp and arch as Paz digs the heel of his palm against your clit, electrifying ecstasy zipping down your spine with each touch. 

There’s a twinge of guilt after Din huffs and drags your limp wrist back to his cock, this time encouraging you to palm him by guiding your actions with his own hand until you lazily oblige. Din’s quiet grunts, gravely against the vocoder do nothing but throw more jet fuel to the fire inside your belly. The growing urge to actually touch him gnaws and corrodes the forefront of your brain. With a firm yank his boxers are quick to join his trousers and Maker—

Fuck—

Will he even fit?

Din is thick, rosy brown and flushed at the tip and beginning to curl towards his bellybutton. A bead of liquid shines at the tip, dribbling down the underside as he wraps his fist around the base of his length. He gives himself a languid stroke before he, once again, reminds your hand of what it’s supposed to be doing. Din is searing in your palm, molten and stiffening to hardened steel in your grip.   

“You look so fuckin’ pretty like this,” Din hisses as his head rolls back onto his shoulders. “S-so pretty holding my cock.”

Your desperation tears at your insides, insatiable and Maker— you wanna taste him. You want to hear every little stuttered moan and feel each twitch of his hips as he claims your mouth as his own.    

But before you’re able to ask Din if he’d be willing to fuck your throat, Paz grips your knee and slings your leg over his thigh, murmuring praise as he peels off your underwear. Paz’s hand snakes down to your pussy and runs two thick fingers through your already slick cunt, then delicately parts your folds. 

It’s like a fucking bomb going off as his thumb grazes over your swollen clit. His forearm locks tight around your waist, keeping you in place as you arch and tremble. Paz is feather light and teasing, as he strokes over the little bundle of nerves in a painstakingly slow rhythm. 

“Paz—“ 

He nudges your cheek with his helmet and chuckles. “You’re so sensitive, vaar’ika. Such lovely noises too.”  

Paz trades in his light touches for using his two fingers instead. They form a relaxed ‘v’ shape, trapping your clit in between the digits as he massages in a steady up and down motion. You cry out, every nerve shocked and flooded with saccharine pleasure, shoving you so treacherously close to that precarious edge of release.      

You have no fucking chance as a different set of fingers, leaner in length but just as bulky, carefully prod at your entrance. Din’s pointer finger slides into your cunt, quickly adding a second as your core clenches and stretches for him. The dual sensations over your clit and Din’s fingers steadily pumping and curling inside you send you hurling into that dazzling white-hot pleasure.     

Throwing your head back, you cry out—a jumbled mess of their names or just nonsense— pleasure crackling out from your core and all the way down your legs. Your cunt tightens like a vice around Din’s digits, your legs twitching as your high dips into prickly overstimulation. You whine, and swat at Paz’s hand, Din pulling out his own fingers a moment later and wiping your wetness on the inside of your thigh. 

Your head rests in the crook of Paz’s shoulder as your breath fans across the side of his helmet, fogging up the metal where the blue paint is chipped and scraped away. The shirt he wears smells a bit like sweat but the underlying scent of him is comforting—worn leather and something crisp, like fresh laundry. You don’t mean for the words to slip out—

You know better than that, but everything feels muddled and silly and, and, and—

“I wish I could kiss you.”  

It’s like dousing ice cold water on a pile of smoldering coals. A silence, petrifying and like the inhale before jumping off a cliff and into a rocky sea, ensues. Stupid, stupid, stupid—  

Paz shatters the fragile suspense with a rich laugh that burns away all the icy worry making itself a home in your ribcage. He moves his arm up, his fingers gripping your jaw to fix your gaze onto the other Mandalorian. “You want his mouth on you too?”  

You whimper and nod, but it isn’t enough. 

“Use your voice vaar’ika,” Paz hums, pressing the crown of his helmet against your cheek. “Tell us want you want.” 

“I-fuck—” Paz’s fingertips sneak up your torso, rough callous catching deliciously on your skin. “I wan’t your mouth on me. B-both of you.” 

Paz chuckles and releases his hold on your chin. “You’ll have to be blindfolded, sweet girl.”

Din scoffs, a harsh crackle through the vocoder. “Like she’d want to see your face anyway.”

“Please,” you mewl, turning your head to curl into Paz’s neck. It’s not ideal, but it’s a sacrifice you’re willing to make. “I don’t care. I need—“

“Patience, little one,” Paz purrs, rubbing up and down your bare sides in a soothing manner. All it does is stoke the flames. “You’ll get what you want.” 

Paz shifts, reaching for your abandoned shirt and stars—

You can feel his cock, firmer then tempered durasteel and poking into your lower back. Oh, hell—these men are going to ruin you. 

You’re nudged forward, your vision going dark once your shirt is securely tied around your head. The knot traps a few hairs that pull sharp against your scalp but the measly pain is worth it. Oh so worth it.  

“Is it too tight?” You hear Din ask, concern lacing his gravely vocals. 

You wave your hand in dismissal. “S’fine.”

“Cant see anything either, right?” 

You squirm, your patience spreading thin. “Din, please.”

“Fine.” There’s no bite to his tone and under different circumstances you’d have more composure. Acknowledge that they’re putting their religion, their whole being into your hands—a fragile trust that could so easily be shattered. 

Your ears pick up their subtle movements, their helmets landing onto the thin mat with soft thunks. With bated breath you wait for them to jump into action, seize every spare moment to taste your skin and breathe the same air. But—

“You need a haircut, vod.”

“And you need to shave.” Retorts Din with bitter indignation. 

“It’s hardly even stubble.” He chortles. You giggle and twist away as he scrapes his prickly cheek up and down your neck. “Besides—she likes it.” 

There’s another lull, and with the blindfold everything is amplified—the quick and quiet breathing of Din on your right and the slide of fabric against skin as Paz shifts. Your attention is captured by Din’s bare palm, warm and calloused like weathered leather left out in the afternoon sun. He caresses the outside of your thigh in smooth, longing strokes, enraptured by the softness of your skin. You whimper and let your leg fall open, exposing more of your thigh for his curious exploration. 

The sudden touch on your cheek is jarring. You know Paz is there—it’s not an easy thing to forget the solid chest you’re leaning against but it’s hard to focus. Difficult to settle on one thought before it slips away like grains of sand between a clenched fist. Paz’s touch is heavier than Din’s, ambitious and greedy but…mindful. Even as his fingers spread along your jaw and drag you into a deep, mouthwatering kiss. It’s…stars—   

There’s nothing that can describe this. No word that could ever hold a candle up to the way his lips, plush and soft, move against yours. His nose brushes against your cheek as he tilts his head and deepens the kiss, his warm tongue sliding against the seam of your bottom lip. 

You whine and bury your hand into his hair as Paz groans, a low rumble in his throat. You wonder what color it is, but carding your fingers through the curls atop his head suffices for now.

Your curiosity is abruptly ended as Din’s hand snakes around your forearm. You’re forcibly yanked away, only to be met with another pair of lips. Din murmurs an apology at the sting of his teeth bumping into your upper lip, but the pain is hardly the first thing on your mind. 

Din’s kiss is devouring—  

Scalding and bright—the galaxy, a thousand suns, all there ever will be and all that ever was. The way his lips move against yours is a devastatingly sharp contrast to the steady, syrupy sweet kiss Paz offers. Desperate and eager to surround you in his own arms—steal away any lingering thought and replace it with him. Din Djarin—  

You gasp as Din’s teeth nibble and pull on your bottom lip, only a moment before he surges closer, wrapping his hand around your jaw to hold it open as he licks deep into your mouth. Breaking for air, Din tangles his fingers into your hair at the base of your neck and yanks, baring the column of your throat. His travels down, the tender kisses morphing into teasing nips and lingering sucks that’ll turn into tender bruises in the morning. 

Din hovers over your breasts, his heated breath and cooling saliva the catalyst to the goosebumps that rush over your skin. He lightly tugs on your nipple using his teeth, then plants a sweet kiss over your sternum.   

“Can I taste you?” Din murmurs, his lips ghosting over your flesh. “Maker—wanna put my mouth on you.” 

“Din—“ A different set of lips latching onto the juncture of your neck and hijacks your train of thought. Wipes your mind clean until Paz is the sole thing you can consciously focus on. 

Paz laves his tongue over the shell of your ear and urges you to lean back against him once more. Your nose scrapes against his stubble as you tuck your head into the crook of his neck, his hips lazily rolling his hardened cock into your backside. 

“Or…” Paz rumbles, capturing your hand and interlacing your fingers with his. You marvel at the sheer size of his palm—astounded still when he leads his and your hands to palm his cock. “I could give you this. Fuck your pretty little cunt until you’re screaming for me.”

It’s a punch to the gut. Why the fuck do you have to choose? You squirm as Din points his tongue over your nipple then sucks it into his mouth. 

Working through the fog in your head, the answer is clearer than fucking crystal. Because who in their right mind would turn down a Mandalorian’s request to eat you out? Not you, that’s for sure. “Din—want your mouth.”

Din huffs in triumph and slips between your legs that part to accommodate his broad shoulders, leaving no patch of bare skin untouched and worshiped. You shiver as his tongue circles around your bellybutton then retreats. Din settles his head beside your knee and mouths a kiss there.  

You whine his name and buck your hips, heart beating wildly in your ears. The teasing is unbearable and, stars—if he doesn’t start now— 

He nibbles on the inside of your thigh, laving his warm tongue over each mark he leaves behind, buffering the sting of his teeth. Din snake his hands under your ass, hooking your knees over his shoulders as he heaves your cunt closer to his mouth. Din’s thumbs part your soaking pussy, his breath hot fanning over your cunt. His tongue his scalding—like liquid velvet as he dips the tip of his tongue from the base of your slit all the way up to your clit. 

Din sucks on the little bundle of nerves, rolling his tongue until you’re crying out, molten pleasure zipping through you. He grunts as your fingers tangle into his hair—fuck. Fuck, you need more.   

Arching into his mouth, all thoughts are obliterated; nothing but the warmth of his tongue, and his lips, devouring you as if he were a man seconds from death and you’re his saving grace. That frenzied desperation lingers on the edges of his movements like he’s afraid you’ll fade into smoke—but you’re not going anywhere. Not even a million credits could convince you to push Din’s head away. 

He sinks two fingers into your clenching hole and curls his fingers, stroking and curling his fingertips to make you sing. Zeros in on that little spot that causes the involuntary twitches of your leg and wrenches embarrassing, high pitched mewls that fill the room. You’re careening towards your high, the sensitivity of your last orgasm amping up the influx of pleasure. 

“Shit—Din. Close—I’m so close,” you gasp, pulling his hair tight enough that you know it must hurt. He makes no sign that it does, just groans and buries his tongue into your dripping hole, licking alongside his fingers that shovel more of your wetness into his mouth. 

Your release unfurls through your body like sticky molasses—smoldering embers that seep into each limb until they’re heavier than lead. Fuck—it’s so hard to think and at this rate your brain is as good as gone.   

You pay only a fraction of attention to Din as he kisses his way back up your body and lands a final one over your lips. His thumb grazes over your chin, his gravelly words of praise cutting through some of that foggy haze, how good you were, how fucking delicious you tasted when you came on his tongue. You taste your own arousal on his mouth as he noses your cheek and captures your lips in another kiss.           

“Are you done?” Paz asks dryly, much too barbed to be thrown your way. You groan when Paz jostles your limp body as he hoists you back into his lap.

“Just starting, actually,” Din quips. “Why don’t you hand her back over? I’ve got some more things I wanna try.” 

Paz scoffs and secures a heavy arm around your middle. “Greed will get you nowhere.” 

“Neither will your arrogance.” 

“Shut up—both of you,” you interrupt. Your voice is raw and choppy but it does the job. “Just fuck me already.”

For now their little spat is sidelined—it’s not worth ripping off that bandage of a temporary truce. There’s a chaste moment of quiet, like they’re considering tearing into each other’s throats instead, but with a touch to Paz’s thigh the standoff fizzles out. 

“We need to work on your manners,” Paz suggests, curling his large, calloused hand around your neck in a loose hold. “I believe it’s please fuck me.” 

Maybe if you weren’t practically a pile of brainless goo, you’d argue. See how far you can push—though this time you fold. “Please fuck me. P-please—I need it.” 

Seemingly satisfied with your answer; Paz wedges a hand between your bodies to grip his cock and run the tip through your folds, soaked from you own wetness and Din’s saliva. The head of his member nudges at your entrance, and wether it’s his size or the fact you can’t see anything—you panic. 

Your hand shoots out, nails harpooning into the meat of his forearm. “W-wait—you’re too b-big.”  

Paz freezes and moves you up his lap and presses a kiss over you hairline. “We can stop. Just say—“

“N-no, I’m fine,” you assure, planting an apologetic peck on his stubbled jaw. Stopping is the last thing you want to do—it was just…overwhelming. A sensory overload testing the very fringes of your being. “Go slow?”

You feel his head bob in compliance as he moves you back to where you’re hovering over his cock. You relax this time, not as many alarm bells clanging through your head as your cunt flutters around the fat tip and then that glorious, first thick inch. Paz’s thumb bumps over your throbbing clit, coaxing your pussy to take him further. 

“Yeah, that’s it vaar’ika,” he grunts, his breath fanning over your neck in quick pants. “Taking my cock so fucking well. So nice and pretty.”

Your pussy flutters, fresh waves of arousal hot and burning.You nearly keel over when Paz starts shallowly rocking his hips, easing your body the rest of the way down his length until the back of your thighs touch his. Maker—how the hell is he all the way inside? You can feel him in your fucking guts—         

“See?” Paz purrs. He sucks a bruise into the meat of your shoulder and pushes his palm against your lower stomach, making the fit even tighter. “Fits fucking perfect.”

The noise your cunt makes pulling out and the debauched moan that filters through his vocal chords is obscene. If anyone where to walk by, well—it’s certainly not training that’s going on, for the better lack of words. 

Paz holds true to his word—keeps his pace limited to deep, languid thrusts that brush up against something that makes your whole body shake—like strumming a golden chord molded to a musician’s fingers. Fuck—he’s doing all the work too. Lifting you by the swell of your hips and pulling you down onto his cock with a rough buck of his hips. 

Abruptly, he slows to a gentle rocking—quick to lock you in place as you thrash and roll your hips. “Paz—n-no. Keep going. You n-need to—“

Paz silences your please with a wet, open mouthed kiss. “Our friend looks lonely. Why don’t you use that pretty mouth and suck his cock?” 

Din. 

You hear the man curse in Mando’a, probably some stab at Paz—

But with a pat to your outer thigh, you don’t need any more prompting—you’d give up your left hand to get a chance to suck him off. With the help of Paz, you’re eased onto your hands and knees, shocks of white-hot pleasure zipping through your core at the change of angle. Like this Paz is seated deeper inside, stabbing into each spot that makes you sing.    

Fuck—your arms are shaking—only able to hold yourself up for half a click and then you’re sinking face first into the floor, ass in the air as he fucks into you. Paz clicks his tongue and wraps his arm around your front, pulling you back up from your slumped position. 

“I told you to suck his cock, girl. Not take a nap.” Paz accentuates his words with heavy, well measured thrusts—the kind of force you know will leave your whole lower half throbbing and sore in the aftermath. 

You whine as Paz grabs a hold of your jaw, digging into the tender joints until your mouth falls open. “Good. Keep it like that.” 

Paz’s hand falls away, replaced by a softer touch. The pads of Din’s fingers hook under your chin, guiding and tempting you nearer to what rests between his legs, hot and heavy and large.       

You feel the tip of his cock, flushed and pulsing, rest on your bottom lip. You lap up the beads of sticky precum with kitten licks that morph into suckling the entire head. Din grunts out your name and tangles his hand into your hair as you tongue at the ridged frenulum. He never forces you to swallow down more of him—lets you cradle the first few inches in the wet warmth of your mouth and languidly roll the pad of your tongue around him. 

You want to take him deeper, let Din fuck your throat raw, but your jaw already aches. Your lips are pulled tight around his shaft, drool dribbling down your chin and landing on the mat below. You’re not sure if you could take more of him without the danger of your teeth catching or dislocating your jaw. So you manage like this—hollowing out your cheeks and and using the momentum of Paz’s thrusts to pleasure Din.          

It’s frustrating—it must be each time you let his cock slip out of your mouth to breathe or the fact Din isn’t able to fucking fit his cock into your mouth. Annoying that you aren’t able to think properly to help him out a bit ore when that said brain is being fucked straight outta you, put through the wringer and then body slammed onto duracrete. 

Din cups your cheek, strokes over your skin with his thumb and maneuvers himself out of your mouth. You whine and lean into his palm, his touch addictive like smoldering coals in the dead of winter.    

“You want me there instead of him?” Din purrs, using the tips of his index and middle fingers to tilt your chin and drag you into an open mouthed kiss. “Fuck you like you deserve.” 

The profane imagery of Din between your legs instead makes you clench tight. It only takes a couple seconds and a few more feverish kisses before you’re nodding to his request. Paz mutters a swear, hesitates, and reluctantly pulls out, leaving your cunt empty and aching with need. 

Din, however, is speedy—quick to hoard you to himself and yank your legs over his hips so that you’re draped on his lap. He jumps straight to the point, no fancy maneuver or drawn out teasing—just grabs the base of his cock, slides the flushed tip between your folds and sinks into your cunt. Even after your pussy had been stretched and molded around Paz’s length, you struggle to take Din’s entire cock into your aching center. It’s easier than Paz but, Maker—not by much. 

You whine, harpooning your fingernails into his shoulder once he bottoms out. Din snarls a curse and latches his teeth onto the juncture between your neck and shoulder, prickly pain shooting directly to your belly. “Fucking tight. H-how—fuck.”

There’s no time to adjust before Din sets a pace, harsh and desperate—his hands digging into the flesh of your ass for better leverage. Each roll of his hips borders erratic, taking his pleasure without thought—intent on reaching his own end before it could be yanked out from under him. Din’s staggered exhales below your ear are interlaced with subdued moans that start low in his ribcage then dip into a higher, airy pitch. A delicate sound you’ll guard closer to your chest than any secret you possess for the rest of your life—precious and yours. 

Din turns his head to steal a kiss. “You feel fuck—fucking good. Wanna feel you cum around me. S-squeezed so fucking hard around my fingers—“

You choke out a groan and feel your arousal begin to drip down your thighs—hear the thrusts of his cock into your cunt become shamefully wetter. Heat sizzles down each vertebrae in your spine, burning up each and every cell with the brilliance of a wildfire. Stars, this is gonna destroy you.      

Din’s hand sneaks between your bodies and rubs tight, little circles over you swollen clit. There’s no build up to your orgasm—just a blinding surge of blistering warmth that knocks you off your feet and steals away all the air left in your lungs. Your nails dig into Din’s back as you shake and grapple for a foothold in your own consciousness—the steady warmth of his body a much needed anchor for the madness that threatens to drown you.  

“Good girl,” Din praises, pace faltering from just how tight your pussy squeezes and flutters around his cock. “S-such a fucking good girl for me.”     

Regaining some semblance of control, you realize he’s still fucking going—still rock solid and throbbing, fucking you through the aftershocks of your release. Your arousal turns sharp, like rough cotton over a fresh sunburn as it dips into overstimulation. It’s not unpleasant but Din has to slow his hips to a delicate roll for you to recover.            

In the time it takes to inhale, a different calloused hand kneads into your lower back then smoothes up your spine. A second later you feel the scrape of Paz’s stubble prick along your exposed shoulder as his tongue drags along your sweat dampened skin—all the way up the curve of your neck and ending at the shell of your ear. 

You’re not sure if it’s intentional, but as Paz crowds closer the tip of his cock pokes at your other hole. With a surprised mewl, you tense and shy away—but he follows, molds his chest against your back to sandwhich you in. The hand gripping your bicep jumps to your neck and pulls your head against his shoulder. 

Two of Paz’s fingers dip down the curve of your ass and brush along the puckered skin—far less jarring this time. “Do you want to be fucked here too?” 

Maker—

You’re gonna fucking explode.  

Stuffed to the brim already, it’s hard to imagine Paz cramming himself in along with Din. A little red light blares in some corner of your mind but it’s quickly soothed as Paz plants soft kisses over your cheek and jaw. You trust him—there’s no reason to think he’ll hurt you or push you to the point of pain.

You catch his mouth with a kiss and rock your hips back. “Y-yeah, ok. I trust you.” 

You feel his smile curl against your cheek. “Don’t worry vaar’ika—I’ll take care of you.”

Paz strokes your bottom lip with his thumb and kisses the crown of your hairline as you sink into him. With his ring and middle finger, he pushes past the seam of your lips. “Suck.”

You obey, sealing your lips around his two digits and coating them in your saliva. Paz pulls them out with a pop and moves them between your legs, and with the added wetness dripping from your cunt, the first finger is easy enough. The second and third have you gasping as he scissors them and stretches your tight hole wider. You claw your nails into Din’s shirt—and he’s no better—Din’s own hands are clamping around your hips, struggling to keep still and biting back moans each time your cunt constricts. 

Your hips begins to meet the thrusts of Paz’s fingers as your body familiarizes the feel of him there. It’s a deep thrill that rushes up through your spinal cord—much different from anything you’ve felt before. 

“You like this, don’t you?” Paz goads, chuckling when you whine as he extracts his fingers. “I think you’re ready to take my cock, yeah?”

You shudder and nod, your voice no more than a squeak as it pilfers out. Paz strokes the top of your head and tips you forward into Din’s eager arms as Paz slicks up his length in a mix of precum and your dripping arousal. He touches the swell of you ass in warning, lines himself up with your hole and wedges the tip of his cock inside of you.     

Involuntary tears dampen your makeshift blindfold as Paz buries himself deeper, his rumbling tone urging you to relax—relax even though your mind is drowning in an ocean of arousal and swirling emotions you have no hope to pin down and analyze. It’s for the best—thankful as Paz bottoms out that it wrenches you back to a feasible reality you’re able to manage.

“Shit—I-I’m gonna die—“ You sob, writhing at just how full you are. But there’s nowhere to fucking go—     

“Easy,” Din breathes, and you wonder if he’s said it to keep his own head on his shoulders. “Easy.”

Din’s gravelly rasp cuts through the fog in your head, and stars—you sound like you’re fucking dying. Your wheezy breaths and lightheadedness would certainly suggest that—but no…no, you’re fine. Better than fine.     

A rush so acute and devastating launches up your spine as Din’s patience cracks. He experimentally rolls his hips and that’s the end of it. You’re swallowed up in that riptide you fought so hard to avoid—fuck. You won’t be the same after this. How can you?  

You can feel them both, separated by a thin wall as they sprint towards their own highs. You’re never once left empty—Din reaches the end of you as Paz pulls out and while there’s not exactly any finesse involves it’s the best fucking thing you’ve felt in your entire life. There’s no bickering—no teasing and you’re struck with an idea that makes you clench tight around both of them. You wouldn’t mind if this was the way they decided to settle scores or finally see eye to eye.   

This time you can’t discern your high—just a constant overflow of ecstasy and dazzling arousal like an imploding supernova. You cry their names—sob and shake in their hold with such fervor that Paz traps you tighter between them to keep you still.  

“Fuck—you get so fucking tight,” Paz growls, blunt nails digging into your hips. “And so fucking wet.”

His fingers touch the inside of your thigh and stars—he’s right. “I get to fuck your cunt next time—see how much you’ll drip for me.” 

Even if the blindfold were off—there’d be nothing to see but a white wash of nothing. Blinded by pleasure and bursting at the seems. 

Jealous, Din steals your breath away with a kiss, licking and nipping at your swollen lips until you whine his name. His jagged pants fan across your chin—chapped lips and patchy facial hair tickling across your bottom lip as you breath the same air. 

Din whispers your name like a prayer, his fingers clutching tight around your thighs as his pace starts to flounder to choppy jerks. “Shit. I-I’m close—“

Your fingers twist into his hair. “Yeah—ok baby. Let go.”

Din’s teeth sink into the base of your throat and cums. His seed coats your insides—hot and copious and fucking shit—if there’s a next time you want him to cum in your mouth.      

You don’t get time to relish Din’s stuttered gasps of your name, laced with praise and a show of a tender and bleeding heart before Paz is gathering up your hair in a tight fist and jerking your head up. “You—you want me to cum too? Say it.” 

Without a breath of hesitation you beg for it, cry and arch into him. It does the trick—

Paz is loud—shouts a thunderous roar and buries his cock deep into your hole. Din is still recovering from the aftershocks of his release when Paz pulls out after what seems like ages pumping you full. His cock no longer there to plug you up, his cum begins to dribble out and mix with the mess between your legs. Your legs shake and you wobble--crying out as Din slips out, your body dreadfully empty and aching.     

You're lowered to the mat by Din and if you weren't still trying to formulate words, you'd thank them. Lips dart over your cheeks and hairline, and for once nothing needs to be said. It’s nice...the radiating warmth from their bodies and the simmering flush through you body is something you could get used to. But you’re no stranger to the shifting tides of the future. 

You shrug it off.    

Your eyes are heavy and with one of them stroking your hair and the other your thigh, you drift to sleep. Later—later all unspoken things and disastrous words can be dealt with tomorrow. You must be dreaming when it’s said--careless and bold, but the words nestle into your heart and sprouts with fear. 

“You love her, don't you?” 

translation:

vaar’ika--pipsqueak 

or’dinni--dumbass idiot 

vod--brother/comrade 

tag list: 

@bobafctts​ @djxrxn​ @teaofpeach​ @corrupt-fvcker​ @nelba​ @datmando​ @ben-is-a-hoe​ @dreams-like-clockwork​ @aerynwrites​ @auty-ren​ @huliabitch​ @anxiety-riddled-mando​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @trippedmetaldetector​