#the-new-fanfic-order

[zephyrchama]

Resting with Belphegor

You're laying on the couch, face up with Belphegor draped over you like a weighted blanket. His breathing is steady and slow. His arms are wrapped loosely around your shoulders. His face is snuggled into your chest. It's warm and it's comfortable and it's peaceful as you scroll your D.D.D. The house is quiet. You absentmindedly run a hand up Belphegor's back while searching for new content.

Thunk.

Oops.

Belphegor stirs with a snort, inhaling a little too fast in surprise. You scramble to pick up your fallen D.D.D. and hide it between the cushions. His forehead is already turning a light shade of red, but you know demons are hardy. He'll be fine, physically speaking.

Hands grip your shoulders. Two dark and narrow slits glare at you from inches away. They would be threatening if Belphegor didn't look so pouty, his cheeks almost puffing up with anger.

"Sorry." You try not to smile while apologizing. It's a difficult task when he looks more cute than scary. "It won't happen again."

Belphegor huffs. His chin digs into your sternum but his grip on your shoulders turns weak. "You said that the last three times. I should curse you."

"But I really didn't mean to!" you insist. "I said sorry."

"Aahh, it hurts so bad." The red dot where your phone made contact with his head is hardly even visible. "Ow, I'm so badly injured. Look what you did to me."

Belphegor's acting skills have really degraded since he came out of the attic. Or maybe he's too lazy to put actual effort into it anymore.

"You want a bandage?" There might be some in the kitchen. It wouldn't do anything, though, and he would have to get up for you to treat him. You wonder if his head alone could crack your D.D.D.

"No, but I think a kiss will make it feel better."

[dreamingofmarauders]

𝐈'𝐦 𝐒𝐨 𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙁𝙤𝙪𝙧

James Potter x Slytherin!Fem!Reader!

Summary: In which you go back home only to find something dreadful waiting for you there already

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, torture, also blood but nothing extreme, crying, death(s), knives, I think that's it?

Previous Part Series Masterlist Next Part

───※ ·❆· ※───

Over the next week and a half or so, James was there as you recovered. To the surprise of Lily and Molly, you were doing better than they expected, you were healing fast. Of course, only you knew how many times you had been tortured that landed you on the brink of death, and made it back, all in that hellhole you used to call home.

James was constantly asking if you were alright, if you needed something, and even though you had told him not to, James Potter was full of guilt.

Not only had he misjudged you and been rude to you for years, he was the reason you could have lost your life. He had to make it up to you, somehow. And he was glad you two decided to turn back the pages and write a new story, as he found your company very pleasant.

Sirius was completely blown away at the behavior of his best mate. Sure, you had saved James' life, but that didn't mean James had to follow you around like a lost puppy. Sirius had nearly stopped his cold behavior towards you but didn't try to warm up either. Remus merely quietly chuckled to himself at the sight of James and you. It was quite amusing to him, how James had hated your guts but was now wanting to spend quality time with you.

Going into the second week after the incident, you realized you were well enough and had to head home. James however declared he would escort you home, and would not take no for an answer.

"Potter, I'll be fine." You gritted through your teeth. James' constant stubbornness did manage to get on your nerves from time to time.

"No. I am going and that's final." He said, being stubborn as ever.

"Prongs, let L/n go if she says so." Sirius spoke in between, not happy about the newfound connection between the two of you.

James glared at him and gripped your forearm with a tight grip so you couldn't remove his hand, but not tight enough to hurt you.

You sighed in exasperation. "Fine." You said, giving in. You waved goodbye to Remus and Sirius, the latter not giving any response while Remus wished you farewell.

You and James walked out of headquarters before you closed your eyes, imagining your little cottage and the two of you apparated. You felt a wave of nausea hit you as your feet hit the ground and you bent over.

"Are you ok?" James asked with worry, trying to peer at your face.

You waved a hand, "Yeah, I'm fine." You answered, straightening up. However your mouth went dry and fear filled your whole being at the sight before you.

The door to your cottage was wide open, darkness pooling out. Above the building you called home, a colossal skull, composed of what looked like emerald stars, with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue, etched against the black sky like a constellation.

The Dark Mark

"Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!" You whimpered, running towards your cottage with James on your tail. You rushed in, halting near your kitchen when you saw a dark red liquid staining the walls. Your breaths began to come out short and quickly, you felt your legs weaken as you leaned against the wall for support.

"This can't be happening." You breathed out, afraid of what you would see if you walked a few more steps in. James came from behind and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, surveying the situation.

"Y/n," He spoke softly, "We should go. I'll let the Order know and they can come and-"

"No." You shook your head as you freed yourself from the young Potter's grip, walking further in.

“Y/n.” James tried but you paid him no heed.

In the middle of the room sat such a heart wrenching sight that crushed your heart and soul entirely.

Your beloved House-Elf, the one companion you had since childhood, the one who healed your wounds, the one who had always made sure you ate and slept properly. The same House-Elf who had stayed by your side no matter how many times you had freed him, the one true friend you had for the longest time.

Dead.

And what broke your heart even more was that he had sacrificed his life, as his body lay lifeless in front of a small bundle of fur, also drowning in a pool of blood. The same puppy you had rescued from the streets only two months prior.

Both of them,

Dead.

You sank to your knees, sobbing your heart out.

"I'm so sorry." You managed to say out in between the heavy sobs escaping your mouth. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you two."

James stood rooted to his spot, reeling in with shock.

You shakily raised your hands out, grabbing the handles of the very metal that was pierced into your friends bodies and pulled them out. You tossed the knives to the side in anger, letting out a scream. At that, James finally snapped out of it and kneeled down beside you, bringing you into his chest.

"I'm so sorry." He said, rubbing your back as you cried.

You two stayed in that position for the next few moments. However a new sound caught both your attention.

Crack!

You pulled away from James' chest, wiping your face as you both exchanged a look.

Someone had just apparated onto the premises.

You both immediately jumped to your feet, wands raised in front of you.

You heard very tiny sounds of the pitter patter of feet and James moved forward, putting himself in front of you. You watched with bated breath over James' shoulder and when the newly arrived came into view, you shrieked, happiness and relief overwhelming you as you pushed past James. You fell onto your knees as you hugged your best friend.

"Willy! You're alive!" You spoke, feeling like your heart would burst.

A bark sounded and a very small bundle of white fur pounced onto you, excitedly licking your face. You picked him up, peppering his face with kisses.

"Hello to you too, my sunshine." You spoke as you hugged your dog, Fluffy, to your chest and pulled in Willy for a hug with your other arm. You were so overwhelmed with joy that tears began to cascade down your face again.

"Mistress, please do not cry. Willy did not mean to make Mistress cry."

You let out a watery laugh.

"How many times have I told you to call me Y/n, Willy?"

The House-Elf's cheeks colored pink. "Sorry, Mistress."

You wiped your tears away and then frowned, turning back to look at the scene in the kitchen.

"But if you're alive then, what's that?" You asked Willy, pointing over your shoulder.

"Those are fake, Mistress." Willy squeaked out. "About two weeks ago, I heard someone apparate and the wards shifted. Willy thought it must be you, Mistress, but it was not. You had told us to run if anyone evil came here, and we did but Willy had a good idea and with magic, Willy made the impostors so the evil people think it is us but Fluffy and Willy were gone and safe."

You let out a happy cry.

"You are an absolute genius, Willy, always have been! But how did you know we were here?"

Willy's ears bounced as he replied, "Willy had put up a new ward that allowed Willy to sense a new arrival if someone passed that ward."

You shook your head, smiling brighter than James had ever seen as you turned around, almost forgetting he was there.

"We need to go back. I need to stay at Headquarters until I can find a new place to shift us all."

James nodded but spoke without realizing, "Of course, but you could come to my place, it's fairly empty."

He mentally slapped himself. You two were at loggerheads two weeks ago and now here he was offering you to stay at his flat.

You smiled, "Thank you for the offer, but it wouldn't be nice of us to intrude, plus," You looked down at the excited puppy in your arms, "Headquarters may be more ideal for Fluffy in terms of space."

James nodded, not trusting himself to speak for if he did, something stupid would escape his mouth again.

James and you went through your cottage, collecting anything of importance and essentials, before apparating back to Headquarters, leaving the cottage in the state it was in case someone came back.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

A/N: Hey everyone! I hope you're all well! This chapter was okay I feel but I'm more excited for the next few chapters, you'll see why when they're out! Take care! <33

Wizard Buddies (Taglist): @quack-quack-snacks @jamespottergf @themarauderswife7 @amethyistheart

[tom-whore-dleston]

the three of them

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x f. reader, Joaquin Torres x f. reader, Sam Wilson x f. reader

This fic contains: angst, multiple situationships, implied poly!reader, long distance, implied infidelity, poetry format

Notes: This is my submission for this week's @flashfictionfridayofficial theme: Great Expectations. The dating life is currently all over the place and I just wanted to dump all my feelings towards the relationships I have in a poetic way.

“What do you want?” They ask.

Isn’t it obvious?

You want Bucky.

But you also want Joaquin. 

And then there’s also Sam.

In a perfect world, you would have all three of them. 

Maybe even more if you wanted to.

Your heart is big enough to love them all the same.

Bucky feels a strong connection with you, yet he has Natasha.

It’s so confusing to both you and Bucky.

But Bucky makes you feel oh so good.

More than any other man has in your life.

Joaquin also wants you, but the distance between you both is greater than the yearning you have for one another.

Joaquin admires your artistic abilities and your passions.

He sees himself in you, hence why he loves you the way he does.

Someone said they see why you and Joaquin click.

Because you and Joaquin don’t take life so seriously.

You both know how to have fun and be silly.

You met Sam amongst the storm that is Bucky and Joaquin.

He is a safe haven for you. 

But this safe haven will be shipped off to the other side of the world before you know it. 

You have all this love in your heart that you’re ready to give.

But is now the right time?

Perhaps, there is another man, maybe woman, that is Bucky, Joaquin, and Sam combined.

They could be out there in this world.

It’s up to you if you want to explore that possibility.

But you’re not ready to let go of Bucky, Joaquin or Sam yet. 

You suppose that’s okay.

Until those dreams manifest into nightmares.

What do you want?

Who will you choose?

In the end, you must choose yourself, no matter what or who you want.

Navigation | Fanfic Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist | Joaquin Torres Masterlist | Sam Wilson Masterlist

[inquisitor-apologist]

All the problems in the Mandalorian could’ve been solved if Sabine had kept the Darksaber

[penvisions]

of beskar and kyber {chapter 10}

Paring: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive! Reader (the Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader)

Summary: Toro Callican using a sedative to capture you has many effects, some you were all to familair with and one that is completely unexpected.

Word Count: 6.5K

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical gore, mention of injuries, blood, mention of past injuries, description of self-inflicted scarring, mentions of past self harm, depression, mental illness, body high, head high, angst, reader is drugged, reader is under the influence of a sedative, body dysmorphia, body image issues, feelings of uselessness, feelings of weakness, altered mental state, ptsd, arousal, sexual themes, offer of sexual favors by reader, reader is tied up, reader is held captive, talk of past sexual encounters (not detailed), argumentative dialogue

A/N: there is a lot of angst and dialogue in this! it helps to set the tone for the budding relationship between din and our dear san. please let me know what y'all think? this was a rather hard chapter to outline and i wasn't sure if it was the right pacing but i feel comfortable enough to make it an official part of the story instead of abandoned scenes that sit in a document forever

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist

It was pitch black, when you began to come back to yourself.

Blinking your eyes open rapidly, you tried to adjust to where you were. Trying to take stock of your body and how everything felt but it was hard with so many senses taken away from you. Mind fuzzy and body feeling like your nerves were untethered. Drugged, the rational, subconscious part of your brain that was struggling to operate supplied you. It was jarring, to feel so disconnected from your body, too familiar in the way that it made you feel to weak and defeated. So much like the person you had been trying to overcome for weeks now, all of the progress you made vanished in the plunge of a needle breaking through your skin.

Weightlessness, untethered, dizzy.

Your head felt so heavy in comparison, it was hard to shift around in an attempt to piece where you were and how you got to where it was. Ropes that were knotted far too tight were around your wrists and ankles, maneuvered behind you to make the task of detangling them worse.

“Looks like you need another dose, Mando sure is taking his sweet time considering you and that thing are in danger.”

“Please,” You tried to hold your head up long enough to catch the young man’s eyes. The high of whatever he gave you all encompassing, overwhelming.

“You can’t offer me anything that’ll change my mind.”

“I’ll help you,” The words tumbled out of your mouth like you were just learning how to string sentences together, jumbled and full over your tongue that was dried out. But you needed to get them out, to convince him this was all so reckless. “I’ll help you make your name known.”

“Not interested in anything other than turning in Mando, he will make my name known.”

“He’s…strong.” The words pushed out your lungs on a harsh exhale, the ‘r’ rolling as a growl rumbled in your chest. The need to defend the man who treated you like an equal, gave you space in his ship, allowed you a way to maintain your freedom with his protection.

“He tarnished his reputation for you and that thing. Which means he’ll do anything to keep you both safe.”

Words failed you as your concentration waned, the weightlessness taking over and robbing you of all the languages you were fluent in, mind struggling as it drowned.

“See, the thing is, I think he’s going to do exactly that.” He stepped closer to you, something glinting in his hand. When you leaned your head back against the side paneling of the hold, your eyes narrowed as you tried to focus on his blurry visage. You spat the words out, trying to put as much behind them as you could.

“Or he’ll kill you.” His gloved hand descending on your cheek was loud, the force of the action whipping your head to the side and all you could do was groan and take it. Pain so dulled by the drugs in your vein that it barely registered beyond a prickling sensation.

“I’m sure he’ll want to, I know he’ll want to. But he’s got a weakness now and it’ll play out exactly like I want it to.”

There was a sharp sting that broke through the fog of the drugs, demanding attention on your exposed arm. A needle was plunged deep into the muscle in the same spot as before, Callican’s hand holding it there as he administered something into your system, the needle hurting as it moved underneath your skin. You tried to cry out, the pain troubling with how starkly you felt it but all you let out was a warbled sound before you slumped back against the wall.

The coolness of the floor was soothing on your heated skin, tears brimming in your eyes as you clawed at your arms. Trying and failing to dig out the foreign feeling that was cascading over you, your nails only succeeding in creating marks along your skin, delving no further for desperate relief. The ice-cold sensation of something traveling through your veins making you feel trapped in your own body, sweat dripping off of you as it tried to make itself feel like home again, like your own again.

You startled when a deep, modulated voice called your name. Wide eyes cast up to gauge the figure that was standing in front of you. It was vaguely familiar, your fogged up brain not able to make a definition of who it was aside from them not being a threat to you. Not caring much beyond that, you pressed your forehead flat to the ground again, the thud of it making contact reverberating all along your neck and shoulders. Groaning, you curled your legs and brought them up to your chest, hugging them close. Your arm brushed across a bandage wrapped around your thigh and you hissed as it sparked a sensation that should’ve been painful but only felt like tingles spreading across your skin.

Nerves responding to what should be pain but felt like a wave of cold prickles over your body, making you groan as they skittered all over. They didn’t do anything to combat the heat licking at your senses, if anything they made you realize how intense it felt all over again.

Vision wavering, you could hear a low buzz of something around you. Not paying it much mind, you dug your fingers into your thighs, trying to relieve the tingling that was coursing through your veins. The bandage wrinkled under your hands, pulling on the wound below and you felt the rush of blood as the cut reopened, allowing some of the intensity of the heat consuming you to wane. You signed in relief as the tingling ceased at least on that part of your body, replaced with something that was a dull throb.

Suddenly there was a weight, pulling your hands up, that insistent buzzing now louder and closer. You brought your hands up to grip at your temples, fingers digging into your hairline before you dragged them down the length of your face, over your cheeks. The action smeared a metallic tang that was too strong on your nose, and you felt your stomach lurch. Scrambling, from your side to push yourself on your knees and hang your head over the toilet basin beside you, fruitless dry heaving wracked your body.

A weight landed on your shoulders, pulling at your hair and bringing it to lay over your back away from your face. The action caused arousal to flare in the apex of your thighs, warming you even more so as you felt the need for touch so strongly, for relief from everything that was barrage on your senses, on your body. Panting with the effort it took to catch your breath, you cast a glance over your shoulder to see a shadow kneeling beside you. It was comforting, despite being so far under the fog that was occupying your mind. The thought crossed your mind that they would be able to help you, but your eyes wouldn’t focus.

Suddenly, you recalled the sensation of floating. Of being buoyant while you simply let small currents jostle your body in slow motions, swimming. The cool of salty water washing over you, surrounding you, smelling so comforting. The weightlessness of your real body intertwined with the recollection of it and you felt tears prick at your eyes as you yearned for something you had tried to forget.

“I want to go home.” You cried, voice broken and fragile, words barely spoken above a whisper. “But home doesn’t exist anymore.”

“You’re safe here, mesh’la.” He knew what you were talking about, not just the physical world you hailed from, but the feeling of childhood you both had been ripped from too soon. Things from the past that developed into complicated places and feelings, tainted by the world that was cruel to you both. He held your hair back as you cried for something that could never be again. “I’ve got you.”

As the nausea waned from you, he lifted your weak body and took you up to the space behind the control room he converted into a small room for you. A cot slotted against the right wall, the trunk he had given you up against the left, your bags and things placed atop it. As he settled you in the bed, your eyes barely opened when howling wind sounded outside the ship. The hush of sand and debris coursing through the air was loud, almost deafening and your hands gripped his arms tightly, preventing him from stepping away from you.

“Just a storm, mesh’la.” His voice was a soft display through the modulator, as he took in the wide eyes you were now looking at him with, your pupils blown out and your bottom lip caught between your teeth.

“I can’t stay with you, you’re still fighting off the sedative.”

His name sighed out on a long exhale was a good argument, but he stuck by his words.

It wouldn’t be right, to give into your request to lay beside you. He was only as strong as he could be, and he was realizing when it came to your distress he was unprepared. You were so far gone under the influence of what the medic at the small clinic had said was a sedative and muscle relaxer combination that you were most certainly high off the dose administered to you. They said it would take a few days to work out of your system, something that concerned him, but they said you should be fine. He hadn’t told them about the withdrawal you had already suffered through when he first brought you aboard. He worried for those long hours as they steadily neared.

“I’m comfortable with you, you make me feel safe.” Fingers tight around the part of his arm that didn’t don any armor, you could feel the way his muscles jumped at the contact through his shirt. It stirred arousal, to feel that underneath the armor was a person. The visage of him in nothing but his sacred helmet and sleep pants from a former time stoked flames in your lower abdomen. The broad expanse of his shoulders and chest, dark hair not a shocking but pleasant discovery that spanned across his pecs and trailed below his belly button. The way his biceps had moved as he carried you across the hold, the feel of his body against your own. The scent you had breathed deep from the crook of his neck, it was all so dizzying…so alluring, and you wanted it.  

“I know, mesh’la. But it’s for the best, I don’t want to overstep any boundaries.” His words came out even despite his muscles jumping underneath the wandering touch of your fingers as they carefully began to delve underneath the bottom of his pauldrons. He wasn’t strong enough to pry your fingers away from him despite his words saying he felt this was wrong, the play of something so pulling while you weren’t complete of mind.

“But there are none,” Your voice lilted, laughter in your tone as you smiled serenely up at him. There was something glinting in your eyes that he hadn’t seen since meeting you, something he recognized as dangerous should he ask after it. Your head knocked back, eyes roaming over his form from top to bottom as he stood beside the cot. But he didn’t need to, you gave it to him all the same in a sultry voice that he’d think about for days to come. Pitched low like it was for him and him alone. “I’d let you do anything you wanted.”

He grunted in response, feeling himself twitch below the waist. He was completely unprepared. Your eyes were so bright, your face so relaxed. Your words so earnest and alluring, the lines of your body long and enticing as you shifted atop the cot.

“I’d let you put your big, soft hands-“

“Enough!” He barked, his anxiety and worry getting the better of him. His guilt. He tore his arms out from your grasp and turned his back to the cot. Taking a deep breath to center himself, to collect himself, he could hear you shift behind him. He worried you were going to reach for him, play on his conflicting emotions in your altered state. The guilt he was feeling burned in him, to think such things of you when you had done nothing to suggest you would take from anyone in such a way. You weren’t wholly yourself right now, he was completely unprepared for who you were under the influence.

He spared one last look over his shoulder before he left and his resolve almost crumbled. Your bottom lip was trembling, your hands wrapped around yourself as you sat up, hunched over as your eyes shone with unshed tears. A complete shift from the energy you had just been using to entice him, an entire shift to your mood. Because of his reaction to it.

All he could picture for the rest of the evening as he busied himself setting up the ship to withstand a sandstorm was that last glance he had taken of you and the one of you sprawled on the bathroom floor with bloody handprints staining your face and legs as you fought against the drugs pumping through your system.  

Din could hear you stirring about, in the space of the ship beyond his personal quarters. The Child was asleep, exhausted from the unsettling events of the night. His quiet snores comforting Din in his agitated and anxious state. Sighing, he kicked the blanket from where it covered him. His armor was piled neatly beside the cot, some comfortable sleep he thought would help only resulted in him laying and staring into the darkness through the visor on his helmet.

It had been…alarming to see you ricochet back and forth between such extreme emotions. All of them amplified by the drugs in your system, something he felt tortured over, as if he had been the one to administer them to you. He sat with his legs over the edge of the cot, bare feet flat on the cool metal of the ship’s flooring. His mind replaying the events even as he tried his best to shove them out and move past them.

‘“Took you long enough, Mando.” Callican’s voice projected around the hangar.

“Looks like I’m calling the shots now.” The mechanic slowly walked out from the dark interior of the ship, steps light on the metal of the ramp. Callican behind her with a blaster shoved into her back and the Child in his arms. “Partner.”

“Drop your blaster and raise ‘em.” The younger man paused at the top of the ramp, not stepping further, with the threat aim of a blaster trained on him. Din didn’t make a sound as he tossed the blaster in his hand to the ground in front of him. It landed with a dull sound as he raised his arms out to show he was further unarmed. Slowly, he dragged his palms over his torso as he moved them up, grasping at a flare with his palm. He placed his hands on the back of his helmet, the Child cooing as if he could sense his caretaker.

“Cuff him.” He shoved the blaster into the mechanic’s back twice, urging her to move down the ramp and toward where he stood.

“You’re a Guild traitor, Mando.” Callican voiced the very thing that echoed in Din’s mind every time he was alone, but when faced with the soft coos of the Child, or a brightening of your face, it didn’t seem like such a tragic thing. “And I’m willing to bet that this here is the target you helped escape.”

“Fennec was right. Bringing you in won’t just make me a member of the Guild, it’ll make me legendary.”’

Anger at the overly confident actions of a younger man he had seen a glimpse of himself in had him shoving off from the cot. He had been fooled by the earnest attitude of Callican wanting to make something of himself, to prove to whoever had told him he would amount to nothing that he could be something, to make a difference in the world by bringing in trash that was sought after for their indiscretions with the Guild. The door of the small space hushed closed behind him as he padded toward the makeshift table.

Making sure that the ship was still locked down and there was no chance of anyone sneaking aboard or disengaging the settings, he moved about the space freely,

He hadn’t cleaned up the mess he came back to yet, so focused on getting you comfortable and making sure you were alright. That the Child was alright, not too worked up by seeing you taken down and not knowing where he had been must’ve been hard on such a young one. Ad’ika, you had begun to call him, the term holding endearment and care when it passed through your lips for the first time over the comm link. His chest had hurt at the call, the sounds of you moving about his ship comfortably, the sounds of ad’ika cooing in the background.

It had been so domestic, a feeling so foreign to him and yet….it had felt like it had always been as such. It had felt so normal, like a facet of his life that shone when spotted and simply was something his life was made of, that he was capable of. His chest had hurt… and for a fleeting moment he had thought of his parents. The fast beating of his heart had been loud in his ears as he tried to keep his voice even to a listening Callican, lest he pick too much up from the exchange. The lightweight feeling of the memory twisted into something darker as he recalled the way Callican spoke of you.

‘“But it is rather telling, which quarries you decided to keep all to yourself.” Toro smirked at him, overly confident with no reason to be. The deep scratch marks that were angry and bright on his neck displaying as much, that he could barely handle his own against a woman he ambushed and sedated.

“The one on the ship must keep your bed rather warm, seems like a good exchange for the bounty you’re missing out on.”

“She was so unsuspecting, said some really interesting stuff while the drugs were working through her system. Told me she would make it worth my while if I were to let you and this thing go.” Callican jostled the Child in his arms, causing louder sounds of distress to bounce into the tense air. 

Din seethed at the filth falling from the younger man’s mouth, baring his teeth underneath the helmet and he pictured tearing him limb from limb, pummeling him until he was nothing more than a collection of broken bones and bruises for even thinking of laying a hand you. He must’ve taken you completely off guard, to not get thrown about or struck down by your saber. The mental image had his hands fisting at his sides, of you just standing there busy with something only to be drugged and tied up all before you even knew what was happening, where he was.’

The helmet hissed as he disengaged it with a bare hand and the weight of it clunked as he set it atop the makeshift table. Running a hand through his thick locks that stretched to curl about his ears and the nape of his neck, he pressed the button that opened the panel storing the scant few kitchen wares he owned. He ignored the hotplate in favor of turning on the caf maker. It was already set up, the water full up to the line indicating it would make exactly one cup. The drawer he opened for a pod of the compressed caf was full as well, despite not being able to remember the last time he even thought of seeking them out in a marketplace or shop.

He tried to picture you flowing through an open marketplace, hair braided as it had been the last time he had seen you fully conscious and aware of your senses. Bringing the pod up to his nose to inhale the rich scent of the caf, he let his mind wander as he closed his eyes and thought of you.

Cautious but aware of your surroundings, polite but not overly talkative to vendors. Kind enough to warrant free samples and discounted prices, toting around a large collection of wares you deemed important. He wondered where you had even gotten the credits from, for the things still laid out on the makeshift table around his helmet. Smile soft and small as you tried out all the different fruits and felt the sun on your skin. But the image bled into the one he had come back to.

‘The metal rings you had been fastening into armor were scattered around the floor of the ship, crunching underneath Din’s boots as he slowly advanced inside. It was dark, all the lights and mechanisms shut off, the only light in the space was what sunlight could sneak in around his frame in the doorway. His steps faltered when he spotted your unconscious form by the ladder leading to the control room. Your hair loose and fanning around you, your hands and feet were bound with rope, the knots looking tight around them, you were on your side, arms pulled behind your back and legs bent at the knee.

Bruises could be seen up and down the length of your arms, visible without the cloak he had gotten you, it was shucked off and crumpled beside you. As if you had been fighting and someone had snatched it, pulling it from your frame forcefully. There was a prominent, irritated spot on the outside of your arm, indicative of someone stabbing a needle deep into the skin there.

Kneeling beside you, he turned started to untie the rope, but it seemed to make the knots wind tighter around your wrists. Growling low in his chest in frustration, he took the knife from inside his boot and cut it away, rubbing his fingers along the marks to sooth them as best he could. He did the same with the ties around your ankles before turning you gently onto your back with a soft call of your name.

Faint whimpering startled him, your body jostling beneath his hands as he removed the rope from around your limbs. You didn’t stir beyond that, lost to the world that the contents of the needle had plunged you into. It was then that he noticed the rip on your thigh, the deep cut already beginning to scab around blood-stained skin. It must’ve happened hours ago, but you didn’t wake.

He stayed beside you, stretching to reach over to pick up the syringe you that was discarded on the ground. It looked small in his hands, but the casing was empty, not even a stray drop rolling around inside. He gripped it tight in his palm, the leather of his gloves crinkling with the force. He pocketed it despite wanting to crush the glass in his hand, to hear the crunch of it as he destroyed the very reason you were unconscious beside him on the floor of the Crest.’

He had to concentrate on placing the pod into the machine before he activated the brew to begin, not wanting to wreck the one thing you had been comfortable enough to use as your own on the ship. He had to focus on not slamming the mug into the space below to catch it. As it began to sputter and drain the water from the storage reservoir, he leaned his hands on the lip of the small inlaid counter and hung his head. The action stretched out his shoulders, underneath his long sleeve shirt, popping where kinks had developed from his ride back into the city.

The wind howled outside of the ship and the caf dripped into the mug as he turned around and began to clean the metal rings scattered across the floor. There were hundreds of them, but he managed to get them all. The different sizes all found themselves in the same pouch, Din not having the energy to separate them. He contemplated just getting you a whole new collection when he spotted the sketches you had drawn up of what you were making. It was armor. A set of pauldrons made of chain mail you were creating yourself with the rings.

The detail and notes on the pages of a small book looked professional and it intrigued him. Is this what you had been raised to do? Or something you had taken up after leaving home, after the attack on the temple as a way to make credits? As he flipped through to the next page, he was greeted by sketches for a design that looked masculine. The top of the figure’s body only went so far as their chin, but it was dusted with scruff much like his own face was. The outline of the figure’s body an exact replica of how he would look without the bulk of the beskar armor.

He closed the book, not wanting to invade your privacy any further than he already had, but his heart was thumping rapidly in his chest as he realized you had been thinking about him.

His mind replayed the way you had been so unnervingly still even after he had untied you from your restraints. He had moved you atop his cot, hoping that you would wake and recognize that you were safe in his personal space. As he had been tending to ad’ika, talking over with the mechanic about waiting out the storm in the hangar, he had hated stepping away from where he could keep an eye and ear out for you. As he had trudged back up the ramp, it was closing and locking just as he heard your muffled cries in the fresher. He had quickly placed the small sleeping figure in the small hammock before going to you, only to find you having a fit on the floor. It had been…painful to see you so worked up and in such a state. Fingers digging into your own skin, over scars he hadn’t known you possessed, that you had carved into yourself…

He shook his head, not wanting to think about that and he began to move once again.

He gathered up all of the tools and metal pieces you had been working with and placed them in a crate, so it would all be in one place for you when you were feeling better. The caf warmed the mug he cupped with both his hands as he sat there and listened to the storm rage on.

Groaning, you stretched a handout to feel for the blanket that had fallen down by your feet. You had all but shoved it off during the night, too hot underneath its confines. You could hear ambient noise from down below, securely in your bed, in your space, in your room. All things Din had provided for you while you had been wrestling with reality while your body rode out the wave of drugs and subsequent withdrawals. You had shut yourself in the room as soon as you were alert enough to handle being on your own, embarrassment making your skin burn from the inside out and shame bubble up to join it.

Rain pelted down on the ship, pinging as thunder rumbled overhead. The sandstorm you vaguely remembered from two nights before delved into a thunderstorm in the early hours of the morning. It ate most of the day after and yesterday, allowing you an excuse to stay in your new room and keep to yourself as the ship needed to stay stationed there at the hangar. The thunder had woken you up some time ago, and you lay atop the cot trying to recall everything that had happened the last day and a half.

Your hands idly traced the scars along your thighs, the recent indents of your grappling nails, the bandage around the right one shielding a tender cut from the open air. You recalled digging your hands into the skin there, as you often did in moments of weakness, of needing to feel something other than the emotions storming inside. You recalled rubbing your hands over your face, of pressing it to the cool metal of the floor, of writhing around as fever and chills warred over the territory of your skin.

The white-hot pinpricks of anxiety could be felt over the entirety of your body, making you restless.

There was a sudden knock at the door to your space, but you turned around to face the wall your cot was pushed up against and curled up. You feigned sleep as the door opened, footsteps nearly silent as the Mandalorian entered. You could hear the rustling of his clothing as he kneeled down beside the cot, a hand resting on your shoulder.

“I know you’re awake.”

You shifted until his hand fell to the top of the blankets. You pulled the blanket up further, prompting him to stand up. You could feel his eyes roam over your form, hiding in the blankets and not daring to cut your eyes at him lest he see something you didn’t want him to in your current state. The motion caused your hair to fall over your forehead, some of it resting on your cheek.

“You’re not feeling well.” A feather light caress of bare fingers moved the fallen hair from your face, you tried not to startle too much, not having heard the man move behind you. They brushed over your forehead, feeling for something that you weren’t sure of. When he made a small remark about your temperature, you didn’t respond, continuing to stare at the wall in front of you.

“You…rejected me.” You whispered after a beat of somewhat tense silence.

“You were drugged, you were high on whatever Callican dosed you with.” His voice was even, as if he was trying to keep it from displaying too much of what was going through his own mind.

“I don’t know what you want from me. I don’t know how to tell you what I want. If I’m even allowed to…”

“I don’t want anything you aren’t willing to offer. If you wish to remain cordial, I will adhere to that. If you wish to allow casual touches, I will adhere to that. If you wish to…explore other parameters of touch, I will adhere to that.”

“You won’t. I’m tainted, I’m dirty, I’m used.”

“You are you, and I admire who that is.” He didn’t dismiss your words, the thoughts that plagued you every time you thought about the things that happened to you in your life. He took them and let them sit in the air, let you voice them even if he didn’t agree with them.

“Strength, abilities, weapons, Mandalorians put so much worth on those. Admiration on skills.”

“Listen to me and hear me,” Din’s hand reached for one of your own, bringing it up to clasp his ungloved hand with your own. His thumb brushed the back of your hand, sparking tingles down the line of your arm. He had sat himself on the edge of the cot, to reach out for you. His fingers were warm against yours, bringing forth a wash of heat up to your cheeks, coloring them for him to be witness to. That such a simple touch from him could stir such a response was dizzying. “Yes, my religion places importance on those things. But you are the most important factor. You are important to me, and I will show you in any way you wish for me to.”

“What if…I get scared…or nervous…self-conscious.”

“Then we will share the same sentiment. My body…is not perfect and I have never shared any part of myself with anyone. Well…” He trailed off, modulator relaying a deep exhale the told you of his trepidations and worries.

You shifted under the blankets, sitting up to face him. His armor was gleaming in the faint light, and you wondered if he had tended to it recently. It was a comforting image, of him sitting at the makeshift table, armor in hand as he gave it all his attention and meticulously buffed out any indentations or scratches, polishing it to make it shine. The love he had for the precious metal of his people, the adoration he placed on caring for it, the pride he took in wearing a full suit of it, of having been the one to return so much of it to his own people.

You mulled over his words, aware that it was a conversation that needed to happen. Some things that needed to be addressed, on both your parts. You lifted your eyes from the cuirass over his chest, to the visor with a slightly furrowed brow. He needed to speak plainly, as did you.

“Yes, you have.”

“Yes, that... I have, but only a handful of times. With consenting partners and with nothing in mind other than chasing a base need.” His words were expected, he was a grown man, free to be who and what he wanted within the parameters of his Creed. You didn’t fault him, but it just made all of your own feelings so much more complicated, jealously flaring at the idea of him with another person, touching another person, wanting another person. You pushed it down, not willing to delve into that just yet.

“This is new… for me…these feelings. These desires,” You ducked your head, bashful. His other hand reached up and tucked under your chin, bringing your head back up for him to rest the forehead of the helmet against your own. When he leaned back, the heat of his gaze through the visor was scorching, the direct attention making you flustered paired with your confession. “And I know that might be…daunting for you. A big…commitment…for you.”

“My life is about commitments, for my Creed, for my people, for my work.” His hand squeezed around yours, bringing them to hold to his chest. The armor was cool against your skin, but it was nice to combat the flush you were suddenly overcome with. You felt your breath get caught in your throat as he paused to gather his thoughts. “I would be honored to make one to you. If you’d allow me to.”

The tears were sudden, the feeling of being seen, of connecting with someone.

Two more days of the incessant storm brought thunder, pelting rain, and blinding washes of sand over the city before it lightened up. You had remained in your room most of the time, body still going through the motions working the drugs out. Din gave you the space you needed but had asked you each time he fed ad’ika if you wanted to join them for the meal. It brought a smile to your tired features to see the small child enjoy spending time surrounded by you both, safe and happy.

The tabac was soothing as you inhaled deeply, a thin cigarra held between two fingers. A bad habit, one that you had only picked up to stave off the feelings of loneliness, something to fill the void that had been your life on the run. Slipping to the market for a quick trip while there was a lull with the storm with a quick wave to Din had allowed you the opportunity to track some down. He had been busy, nodding at you as he held a large panel of metal for Pelli to weld to the side of the ship. A large piece of debris picked up by the strong winds had grated harshly and caused some damage.

“Don’t.” Was all you said as you felt a figure come around the side of the ship toward you.

“Wasn’t going to say anything.”

“It’s a bad habit, I know. But it’s helping,” You blew the smoke out with a long exhale, watching as it wafted in the still prevalent wind. “With the withdrawals.”

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, it was just a lull as you both mulled over things in your respective minds.

“I think I’m through the worst of it, might take ad’ika to the marketplace to get something hot for dinner.”

“He’d like that,”

“Maybe…you could come too?”

“He’d like that too.”

“And you?” A gentle, hesitant question.

“I’d like that.” His voice rumbled closer that it had just moments ago as he stepped toward you, one of his arms reaching. His gloved hand was a comfort as it brushed your bare arm, fingerless gloves and vambrace left atop the crate in your room. Warmth bloomed in your chest as you turned away from him to take a long pull of the cigarra.

“Hmm, but I’m paying.” Mouth lifted up at one corner as you smirked over at him, eyes taking in the shine of his armor in the dull light of the suns.

“Is that right?”

“You gave Pelli everything you had, everything you took off Callican, no?”

“The mechanic?”

“Please tell me you knew her name.” A stern edge to your voice had Din’s stomach jolting as he gazed at you through the visor. You had never used a tone like that with him and it was rather endearing to know you were comfortable enough to do so now.

“She didn’t introduce herself.” Was his flat response and you snorted at the way he worded it.

“Neither did you! You strutted down the ramp and fired on that poor droid as greeting.”

“That droid was going to mess something up, didn’t you notice how shifty it was?”

“Shifty? Kriff, Din, you’re…something.”

“So are you, mesh’la.” His hand that had been caressing you gripped and turned you. His other reaching out to knock the last bit of the cigarra from your hands to the ground where he scuffed it out with his boot. You let him move you, wanting to see what he was up to, how he played along with your harmless teasing. You let him pull you to him, chest to chest and he rested the forehead of the helmet against your own. “Something good.”

previous chapter || next chapter

taglist: @strawberri-blonde @js-favnanadoongi @moonknight-s-cumdump

dividers by the lovely @/saradika, saradika-graphics

[craycray-wolf]

*I*

Would like to make fanfiction of Minecraft Story Mode 😎

I plan on writing my own ideas as well as my version of events/own twist on the game's story itself! By this I mean the choices I like to make and adding some of my own events as well. I know these are common I just think I personally have something to offer! Plus the more preservation of the game's overall story we have the better ^_^ I love these games so much and I don't ever want them to die!

Then of course I have my own original stories for MCSM, it's just that my version of the games' stories provide context.

(Also it's probably going to be rated teen/PG13 and possibly even mature for some chapters, though for the latter I'm going to try to make them not necessary for the story when I can! I know the game itself is E10+ and meant for a general audience but I'm too much of a freak tbh. I like making intense content)

I plan on making 3 different universes:

Red Suspenders Jesse (and Jesskas) <= currently working on this one

Red hairclip Jesse (and Jesstra)

Red pants/peach sus Jesse (Jerkesse. No hate to any Jesse variants- I love them all!)

I also have a few short stories about red sus already written that I plan to integrate into the greater narrative once it's done. I have them already published on Wattpad and plan to publish them on AO3 and Fanfiction too.

Now this is gonna take a while to write so uh- feel free to ask any questions! I'm also going to share some tidbits about each universe real quick below.

SPOILER WARNINGS FOR BOTH SEASONS JUST IN CASE 🚨🚨🚨

You have been warned! I highly recommend experiencing the game for yourself if possible or watching a playthrough!

Okay let's experience a sampling of my chaotic brainrot!

Red sus: This Jesse is the most cinnamon roll of the 3 Jesses, but he's still savage as that is a classic Jesse trait. He's also the most honest of the 3, his mindset here is probably best encapsulated by the phrase "honesty is the best policy." He tends to relate more to Olivia than Axel, but he deeply loves them both. He takes Hadrian's deal without hesitation.

Jesse particularly likes the Ender Defender armor and uses it during S1. He also thought the best way to keep Magnus' armor would be to care for it and it not be damaged. He decides to branch out in S2 and wear the Shield of Infinity armor, then Please Don't Hit Me. He takes Romeo back with them home with no hesitation, even if he's p.o.'ed at the man. He told Petra he'd be right beside her as she found herself at the cabin, and follows through on his promise once Beacontown is rebuilt and stable enough (and he works on some personal business). He turns down Stella's offer as he thinks Lluna and her are meant to be.

During their travels, Jesse realizes how much he missed animal companionship due to Lluna. He keeps an eye out for his new companion, and comes across a bat in a cherry grove. The Order had troubles with bats previously whereas now they're turning over a new leaf. This new friend symbolizes new beginnings. Because of this and the fact that she was found in a cherry blossom biome, Jesse names the bat "Bloom." I love Bloom so much y'all. I hope you will too 😊

Red hairclip: She's less optimistic than red sus Jesse, but still a fair amount so. This Jesse still appreciates truthfulness but it's not a core feature she has or one she seeks like red sus Jess. She's less trusting than red sus Jesse so she doesn't take Hadrian's deal (though she's willing to sacrifice herself for her loved ones no question).

She thinks the best way to keep the armor is to wear it, killing the Witherstorm in honor of Ellegaard. Briefly before their Portal adventures though she tries wearing the Dragonsbane armor and falls in love. In S2 she wears Star Shield and Golden Apple.

Since Jesse chose to leave Nurm behind she has a stronger bond with Lluna, and takes Stella up on her offer to keep the fashionable llama. She is torn between adventuring with Petra and staying to keep leading her beloved town. She ultimately stays in Beacontown, at least for quite a while. That is until Jesse realizes how much she loves Petra and goes out to search for her.

Red pants/peach sus: And then there's THIS asshole. Tbh he's not as developed as the other two yet, but he's not the funnest guy to be around. He still cares on some level for his friends, but he sees them more as a means to an end. He's incredibly selfish and egotistical, soaking up all the glory from his "heroism". All of his actions are motivated by things that'd benefit him. Therefore he sure as heck doesn't take Hadrian's deal.

Not sure whether he takes Magnus' or Ellegaard's armor. S2 he wears Tim's armor because you know. Fancy and diamonds and stuff. He gets no 2nd animal sidekick, he didn't treat the first one right!

Also here, a link to my fanart of the New Order (S1 style) thx: https://www.tumblr.com/craycray-wolf/736076088473731072/these-dorks-in-my-artstyle-i-love-them-too-much?source=share

Thanks for reading Fam! It's been lit.

[eleectric-city]

My favorite Drarry fanfics that i read in 2023

Just like the post from last year, i'm going to list the fics that i enjoyed the most this year just because reading about these two idiots falling in love is one of the best part of most of my days, so thank you to all the creators for writing these masterpieces <3

More than one chapter:

Grounds for Divorce by @tepre (122k)

Star Quality by who_la_hoop (118k)

All Our Secrets Laid Bare by @firethesound (149k)

"Dad says" by GallaPlacidia (39k)

Loverboys by @corvuscrowned (84k)

speak of the devil (and the devil shall appear) by @sophisticatedyet (87k)

Draco Malfoy and the Mirror of Ecidyrue (saga) by starbrigid (1,219k)

Witness Marks by @gryffindorhearts (15k)

Thermodynamic Equilibrium by @dorthyanndrarry (5k)

It Was All Just a Game (Rewrite) by write_me227 (616k)

body electric by @lastontheboat (8k)

One-shots:

missing-him-thing by Thelmostrhetoricalquestion (19k)

House Proud by @astolat (23k)

Un serpent m'a conduit jusqu'à toi by NellanaSylveon (6k)

Welcome to the Broom Closet by incapricious (23k)

See How it Burns (your touch from a distance) by muted_needs (13k)

The Breakfast Club by @peachpety (7k)

Birds Behaving Badly by @peachpety (10k)

Playing for Keeps by @peachpety (6k)

The Joy of Bleeding by @teledild0nix (6k)

Who I Really Am by agentmoppet (8k)

Some Dance to Remember, Some Dance to Forget by @l0vegl0wsinthedark (5k)

Un Noël très parisien by @femmequixotic and @noeeon (14k)

Starting Positions by @bixgirl1 (8k)

Shit Happens by @nv-md (3k)

[lisa-russell]

Just finished reading this lil story about Acht and Agent 4, the romance felt kinda fast but it was certainly a nice read. Gonna be adding it to my list of Splatoon Fanfictions!

it ain't no slowburn romance lol, it kinda felt to fast, but that might because I'm used to reading long Fanfictions some with over 1mil- 2 mil words lmao!

[dualcomplexity]

About Agent 4

After years of her abrupt break, the fourth agent has made it to Alterna to reclaim her spot in the team. But that doesn’t mean she just sat around over her indefinite vacation.

Now, Maika likes to keep her hands busy. So a job was always taking up her day, whether it was some Eggstra work or hour-long tutor sessions, she needed to make some money.

But it’s tough when you reach the point of losing why you do all of this in the first place. What is the reward for doing things just for the hell of it? Maybe Marie’s invite was the answer she needed.

Being the hard worker she is, Maika is already shaping up to the absurd lifestyle she once knew, and the brand new hero suit designed just for her. They were expecting her, weren’t they?

It would be no surprise if so. After all, Agent 4 is pretty valuable to the team. She’s got the brains, the guns and the fists for the job!

If she could just not think too much about what she needs to do…

[undying-lilies]

what’s this? The next AM chapter is up? And I actually drew promotional art for it??

[tom-whore-dleston]

Alma Bella

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x f. reader

Word Count: 1.3k

This fic contains: angst, fluff, implied smut, hurt/comfort, massages, crying, reader has low self esteem, Joaquin is a loving bf, unbeta’ed writing

Summary: Joaquin helps cheer you up after getting laid off.

Notes: This piece is for @the-slumberparty's Eight Types of Love challenge. In addition, this is a late request from the Spotify Wrapped 2023 challenge.

prompt: Philautia (love of the self) - Spa Day

request: Hello ❤️ For your event, can I choose <Beautiful Soul> by Jesse McCartney and Joaquin Torres? I was thinking a hurt/comfort/fluff fic? I don’t want to add too many ideas but if I can add, Soldier Joaquin x Teacher Reader? Thank you!!! - @blackbat05

You poked at the rice on your plate, watching the way each grain smashed under your spoon. If you weren’t careful, you could have snapped at any moment, aggressively smashing the salmon you spent the last hour preparing for your partner and then throwing it on the ground. So, you settled for meticulously squishing each item on your plate, until Joaquin’s voice pulled you out of your trance.

“Amor, is everything alright?”

When you finally glanced into his loving brown eyes, you sighed loudly, fighting back the tears burning your own eyes. You had been anxious to the point of throwing up over sharing the news to Joaquin. He had been working so hard for both of you, and you didn’t want to let him down. The logical side of you knew he would never be disappointed in you, yet the fear of any conflict with the man you loved scared you to your core. Yet, you needed to tell him before you were consumed by it.

“I’m so sorry, Joaquin,” you mumbled, staring back down at your barely eaten dinner.

“What? Why?”

“I got laid off,” you finally revealed. Your heart sank to your stomach as the words left your mouth, and you already felt the bile traveling to the back of your throat. “I should have seen it coming with the way the economy is now. Plus, schools are more focused on STEM classes than fine arts. You sipped on your glass of water before continuing. “I really thought I could make a difference with art. I thought I could inspire kids to create with their hands and get messy, but…forget it. My family was right about me becoming an artist. I’d never make it so I should be an art teacher for more stability. Well, look where that got me.” 

The tears that brewed in your eyes disappeared. Your heart was breaking into atomic pieces yet you couldn’t allow yourself to cry. What was the point of crying if the only thing to grieve was your hope of making a difference?

Joaquin stood from his chair and joined you on the opposite side of the dining table. He knelt down to hug you tightly against him. The moment he started rubbing your back and kissed the crown of your head, the water works began flooding over his white shirt. Your lover hushed you, but still allowed you to sob into his shoulder. 

“I am hurting with you, amor. But everything you said about yourself is not true. You can make a difference with your art. Maybe this just wasn’t the right time or moment to do that.”

You pulled away to meet his eyes again. They were still beautiful and brown, even behind your watery gaze.

“When will be the right time?” You sniffled, wiping the tears away with the back of your hands.

Joaquin looked down at the ground solemnly. “I wish I knew the answer to that. But I promise it’ll come. You just gotta light that passion again, amor.” A strong hand grabbed yours tenderly. “I know you still have fight in you. Even if you feel discouraged.” 

You pulled Joaquin into another hug warm enough to light that fire inside you. He always knew how to comfort you. You didn’t deserve this, especially after the way you talked so poorly of yourself. But, it was what you needed to crawl out of your hopeless state.

“I think I know another way to cheer you up,” Joaquin said, sweeping the hair out of your face.

“Please tell me we are getting massages!”

Joaquin’s eyes widened, a smile painting his face. “How do you manage to guess what I’m thinking so easily?”

You bit your lip. “Because you and I are connected by the soul.”

He stared down at your lips, releasing a faint chuckle before kissing your lips.

The next day, Joaquin drove you to the massage parlor in your town, holding your hand while he sang ballads of his affection to you. At each stop light, he would lift your hand to his lips before lightly pecking them before driving away. By the time you arrived at your destination, Joaquin spoke with the receptionist, reserving your massage time and paying the service. Before you could protest, he reminded you that this day was for you and you shouldn’t have to do so much as lift a finger. Normally, you would attempt to fight him back, but for now, you agreed to let him treat you.

The next 90 minutes were the most blissful ones you have experienced in a long while. The woman massaging you may have been way past 60 years old, but her hands were strong enough to knead out the weight you carried since getting laid off. Yet, her touch was still soft and gentle, a kind reminder that even amongst the roughness, you deserve sensitivity and love.

You peered over to Joaquin, who laid with his cheek on the table, facing you. He grinned with his eyelids half open as his taut muscles turned to putty. 

“How are you, mi amor?” 

As the little old woman squeezed a pressure point on your calf, you winced in pain and pleasure. Joaquin laughed at your response, sticking his head back down the cushioned hole of the table, succumbing to the classical music and warmth of the massager’s hands.

Once your massage was over, you and Joaquin moaned in elation, but still yearned for more of the comforting yet aggressive touch of the massagers. You both laid in silence, battling the urge to fall asleep on the tables. After what felt like eternity, you finally stood from the table, moving sluggishly to dress yourself. Joaquin sensed your movement, turning to admire your naked form. 

“Hey, you,” your boyfriend murmured in a seductive tone.

“Hey, to you, too.” You snickered, rolling your eyes when Joaquin just stared at you in awe. He rolled onto his side as you slid your underwear back on.

“Did I ever tell you how beautiful you are?” He licked his lips as you bent over to pick up your sundress. A smirk was plastered on his face, and you already predicted where this would lead you. You decided to play dumb to test your hypothesis.

“I should say the same about you, handsome.” Your eyebrows suggested towards his semi hard length pointing in your direction. Then, you met him with sincerity and affection. “Thank you for this, amor. It really means a lot that you are taking this whole day to make me feel better after yesterday.”

“Anything for the woman I love. Don’t ever forget that you deserve the best and more.” You nodded before pressing your lips to his. Then, Joaquin added, “I take it that the massage helped relieve some of your stress?” 

“Oh, you have no idea, baby.”

“I think I do have an idea actually.” You faced him, fully dressed, as he finally managed to hop off the table. Your eyes steered away from his bare figure, warmth flooding your cheeks and chest. “Your pretty moans told me all I needed to know about how good you were feeling.”

You gulped, that sly smirk never leaving his face. “I felt really good, too. The thing is, I think they missed a spot. You and I both know you’re the only one to give me a real happy ending. Ain’t that right, amor?” By then, you choked on a gasp that almost came out as a whimper. 

“Joaquin, we can’t fuck here.”

“I know, I know.” He paused while putting on his jeans. “How about this? I drive us home, we get undressed again and I help you relax a little more and you help me get a happy ending.” 

You pretended to consider his proposition with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth. The day had just begun for you two and you were already looking forward to more of whatever special treatment he had in store for you.

“Well, you did want to treat me the whole day so let’s not waste anymore time.”

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[leiawritesstories]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aelin Galathynius had a hand in just about every illegal dealing in all of Terrasen. Weapons, drugs, organized crime, the black market, blackmail, assassination, coercion, bribery–you name it, she was almost definitely connected to it. The only problem? Nobody could prove it. 

Rowan Whitethorn, fresh out of Terrasen’s elite special forces academy–known only as Doranelle for secrecy–was convinced he could unmask Aelin Galathynius. So convinced, in fact, that he’d managed to obtain special orders from his commander to do just that. The only problem? He had exactly three hundred and sixty-five days. If he couldn’t prove Aelin Galathynius guilty in one year’s time, he’d be booted down to corporal in disgrace. 

Something neither Aelin nor Rowan could have expected, though, was each other. When their paths cross–and oh, their paths will cross–who will come out ahead?

Coming Soon...

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[penvisions]

of beskar and kyber {chapter 11}

Pairing: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive! Reader (The Mandalorain x Force Sensitive! Reader)

Summary: Traveling toward something Din scrounged up as a way to make credits, a pit stop is made and he realizes just how much he wants to learn more about you. Conversations flow to fill the time of travel, but when faced with people from a darker part of his past, a new facet of your personality is revealed.

Word Count: 10.5k (!!)

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical gore, canon typical language, star wars language and common knowledge, mando'a language (w/ translations), description of injuries, mentions of nausea, talk of menstruation, blood, symptoms of menstruation, female reproductive system talk, anxiety, ptsd symptoms, medical jargon, use of painkillers, character death (minor), death, parental death, guardian loss, loss of family, fighting, harsh language, threats, one hard slap (!!), teasing language, sexual language, sexual teasing, taunting, allusions to din's past sexual encounters, sexual touching, body image issues, feelings of inadequacy, female masturbation, exploration of sexual pleasure, first orgasm, sexual shame, pining, close quarters, unsavory individuals, uncomfortable situation, san shows anger

A/N: ah, here it is, the next installment! it's a doozy, we hop through so many emotions in this one, san's character developing as she opens up. happy thanksgiving, y'all! hope this feeds you all nicely for a while ♡

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || kofi

“I’ve set the course for the Mid Rim.”

“Okay, anything particular there?”

“Job with an old crew.”

“Okay.” You didn’t look up from the table, brow furrowed as you concentrated on connecting the rings of metal in a pattern that didn’t seam obvious to Din. You were weaving different sizes together, some in patches, some in pairs. He watched you for a moment, taking in the way you were so focused and intent with your motions as you weaved a garment of metal. You had been at the task for nearly the whole day, quiet as you did so, allowing Din to go about his own business since leaving Tatooine.

Now that he had a spare moment he stood by the table and watched your diligent work. He had been waiting for the ship to travel far enough through space while he tended to small tasks of cataloguing weapons, supplies, some light maintenance. As he walked around the space, he noticed you moving to mess with the vambrace you had removed in order to work on the armor. He was curious, once again, if it was something you had been taught and trained to do or simply a hobby you took up in order to support yourself as a younger woman. When you frowned at the information that displayed from the cuff, a small sigh escaped you.

“Mesh’la?”

“Hmm?” You looked up from where you were transcribing something into your vambrace. Uttered a quiet affirmation before going back to it. A startled yelp bubbled up, the coding you were trying to input on it not translating properly and the high-pitched sound of feedback echoes around the hold. Sounds of an upset child flowed from his personal quarters, prompting you to stand go toward the cracked open door.

When you emerged, you were snuggling ad’ika to your chest, his face buried in your neck. The sight of you comforting such a small bundle in your arms with a smooth expression and soft shushing sounds, moving about the space to retrieve a cannister from the small cooling supply unit caused Din’s heart to still for a moment. Faint memories of his mother holding him until he fell asleep rose to the surface of his mind. You were so kind, so willing to take care of others. As proven by your willingness to help the villagers back on Sorgan, with fighting or tending to the ponds they harvested from. Despite everything you had faced and experienced, you were still kind, still loving. He idly wonders if his own mother would have still retained her kindness, if she had survived the attack that left him an orphan.

He retreated to his room for a bit, leaving you to tend to the child in peace, suddenly overcome with melancholic thoughts. The soft sounds of you talking lowly to the child and his responding coos filling the hold and easing Din into a light slumber as he lay atop the cot.

The hot stream of water had steam wafting through the air of the small room, curling around your hunched frame. The stabbing pain in your abdomen had you gasping and struggling for breath. Not something from previous injuries but a new sensation that had begun a couple hours ago. It had been growing in severity since you first noticed it. Food had been hard to eat lately, the bone broth and fruit helping to get you through the stomach pains of withdrawal from your latest, heavy dose of sedative and muscle relaxing drugs at the hands of a man that was now dead.

You moved to reach for some shampoo and a sharp line of pain ran across the front of your stomach. A crushing weight as you felt a cramp knot the inside muscles below your belly button. Hands digging into your skin there, you felt the hard bulge of the implant you had been administered during your captivity and a yelp flew from your mouth as it panged harshly. The throbbing pain stole your breath when you tried to suck air into your seizing lungs.

“Maker!” You weakly cried out, knees giving out and hitting the tile of the stall hard. The shock of it crawling up your body, adding a new pain to the ones already plaguing you. The bottles of body cleansing soaps thudded around you. One of them nearly landing on the hand you had pushed out to catch yourself from collapsing completely.

A whimper echoed off of the walls of the small room, making you sound like a wounded animal. The implant was jutted out from the developing softness of your stomach, the sparse food you indulged in allowing you to put on some healthy weight in wake of being nearly starved for so long. The skin was tender, but no bruising had developed, thankfully, as of yet. 

The cramping continued, making you nauseas as you tried to get back up onto your feet. The water was loud in your ears, the steam from the heat of it making your head hurt and you blinked hard as you threw a hand out to turn off the stream of it. A stretching feeling deep in the muscles of your lower back clicked everything together and your chest lurched at the implication of your cycle making an appearance after so long.

The implant shifted slightly underneath your skin, making you gasp loudly, and you stumbled against the stall. The slick tiles did nothing to support you and your back slid down the length of them, bottom hitting the floor as you crumpled.

“Din!” You called, at a loss of what to do, not able to keep upright. Your legs were shaking, and your head was swimming, the pain too much to handle and that’s when you realized you had unintentionally reached out with the Force and the door was flying open to the fresher. Quick steps and the cry of the Child were all you heard before a figure appeared in the doorway, you could see it through the frosty pane of glass that separated you from him.

“Did you fall? What’s wrong?” There was a twinge of concern in his soft tone, words rushed as he appeared in the doorway. His shadow was large through the frosted glass, you were grateful he had been awake. But you had a feeling he would wake from a deep slumber should you call out for him, instincts to aid and protect taking over the pull of sleep he seldom sought.

“Din,” You panted, hands hovering over the swollen part of your stomach. Pain throbbing deep inside your muscles, making them twitch. “Din, we need to land. I need a medic.”

Words trailing off as you noticed the trail of blood that was coming from between your legs, the water that hadn’t gone down the drain diluting it to create an alarming swirl around you. The panel of glass creaked, and you didn’t bother covering yourself up as Din’s gloved hands curled over the door.

“I’m opening the stall.” He announced before you could see the silhouette of him appear through the steam that had collected in the small room. He didn’t have any armor on, down to the simple clothing he wore underneath. He must’ve been cleaning it if he hadn’t been asleep, you mused in the back of your mind as your eyes trained on the floor of the stall once again.

“My- the implant, somethings wrong-“ You couldn’t look away from the blood curling around the drain, eyes drawn to the unnerving display. It had been so long since you had a cycle, and it was worrying that it had returned despite the presence of the implant. There was so much of it. Your attempt at an explanation was cut off by another yelp as the knot in your stomach jolted.

“This-this isn’t normal!” Your voice took on a panicked edge, higher than you’ve ever sounded before, through your clenched teeth as you held your hands to your aching middle. You didn’t care how scared you may have sounded, too encumbered by the pain and hectic thoughts flying around in your head on how to stave off the pain long enough to get medical attention.

“I’m going to help you up, is that okay?” Din stepped closer, boots splashing in the shallow water that had collected in the stall. His hands reached out to you as he crouched down to face you, visor dark as you looked up into it for a second. You didn’t want to fall to the floor again, too weak to hold yourself up even with his help.

“C-can’t stand. Hurts t-too much.” You keeled over, back hunching as you began to feel the cold of ship now that the steam was dissipating and the wet of your hair was exposed. Your skin prickled up into goosebumps at the cold air of the hold seeping into the room from the open door. A hand was under your chin, the chill of the leather making you shudder as your head was tilted up to face the rather close visor of Din’s helmet.

“I’m going to wrap you up, put you in my quarters and turn on the heat, is that all okay with you?”

You could only nod before you felt his hands carefully wrap a towel around your shaking body. The scent of him strong on it and it helped to ground you a bit. When he lifted you from the floor, you shouted out at the pull on your skin the action caused. Back and middle aching as cramps crashed in never ending waves. His gloved hands tensed where they supported you, your own still holding to your lower stomach.

A few moments later, you found yourself bundled up in the clothing he had first given you, fresh from whatever drying unit he had aboard the ship. The heat had been activated and you were underneath two blankets atop his cot. He had excused himself while you dressed, to go scout out a planet close enough that had a decent enough population to warrant a medical center. You felt the ship lurch slightly as it transitioned out from hyperspace and then back, a new path directing its direction of flight.

“Do you want me to go sleep in the other room?” His sudden question startled you, head shooting up to gaze at him as he stood in the doorway of his small quarters. The Child was fast asleep in the small hammock above you, one of his feet kicked out and visible in the low light from the hold. “I don’t want to make you comfortable.”

“I want you in here with me,” You couldn’t help the whine of your words, bottom lip trembling as a wave of emotion hit you at the thought of him being so far away. Of not being able to curl up beside him and feel the warmth of him just inches away. “If-if that’s okay?”

“It’s okay, mesh’la, I’m right here.” Pitched low, his voice curled around those frantic thoughts and soothed them.

“I’m…I’m sorry. The job-“

“Can wait, they need me.” He soothed you, trying to eradicate any worried you had, wanting to focus on getting you whatever you needed.

Once he was settled into the cot beside you, the heat of his close body helping to calm you down, you spoke into the darkness in a quiet voice. There were only a few inches of space between your bodies, if he took a deep enough breath his chest would be brushing your own as you faced each other atop the cot.

“I think the implant needs to be replaced or taken out. My…my cycle started, that’s what all that blood was.”

“Then we will get you to a medic and get it taken care of.”

“I have credits for it.”

“Not worried about that.”

“Din, I…I don’t want another implant.” The admittance was quiet, and you held your breath once it was out in the space between you both.

“…okay.”

“It wasn’t my choice to get one…I woke up with one after those bandits captured me.” You whispered into the darkness, in the general direction of his chest. He had laid down to face you, both your head and his helmet resting on a pair of pillows close together.

“It’s your body, your choice, mesh’la.”

You tried to piece together the shape of him beside you through the dark, aware that he was seeing you more clearly with the aid of his helmet. Reaching out, you found his arms crossed over his chest as he lay on his side facing you. He untangled them at the first hesitant touch of your fingers on the fabric of his long sleeves. He had his gloves on still, but he let you remove them, allowing you to free his hands from them to pull them toward you. He stiffened when he felt you slip them underneath the shirt you had changed into. Your skin was hot to the touch, but you shivered as if cold.

“Hands are warm, is it okay if-“

“It’s okay,” He breathed the words out, barely giving them life as he felt the soft skin of your stomach underneath his palms. He would give you the breath out of his lungs if you asked. His hands against your bare skin was something he was very okay with, especially if it would bring you the comfort you so obviously needed. The give of the flesh under the light pressure as you pushed them flush against you.

His fingers brushed over a hard spot beside your belly button, a small gasp sounding at the action, but you didn’t flinch or push him away.  Instead, you scooched closer to him, wiggling underneath the blankets to rest your head beside his. You pressed your forehead to the front of his helmet, breath washing over the skin of his neck as you mumbled a quiet thank you.

Of course the planet had been crowded, one of the few on the outer rim that had such a population, the buildings tall and foreboding. Signaling that any number of people could recognize either you or Din, the armor garnering more than a few lingering stares as he walked alongside you toward the clinic. He had done research to find a reputable one, not trusting just any medical center to treat you. He could do with whatever he had on hand aboard the ship, but he wasn’t taking any chances with you or your wellbeing.

The small whimpers you had made as you tossed and turned to try and get comfortable all throughout the two rotations’ worth of travel to get to the planet echoing in his head. With a lingering look and a reminder to contact him via comm link should you need anything, he dropped you off at the doors. He watched as you tried to keep up the appearance that you were okay, but the pinched expression that pulled your brows together gave him a hint at how badly you were still feeling.

The Child was peeking out from the bag he had slung around his shoulder, wide eyes taking in the commotion of the city as you walked through the streets. It had been an unspoken agreement that he would not be left aboard the ship in such a crowded space, Din opting to carry him around. The ever-present threat of a tracking fob pinging at the small being’s presence not lost on either of you. The potential of danger here was for all three of you.

Speaking in Mando’a around people was normal for you, a sign that you were wary of crowds and eyes that could lead to another capture, cautious. Ears that could overhear. That he held your trust now was not lost on him and he wondered once again how you came to know his language so intimately in order to converse with him as if you were Mandalorian yourself.

He had so many questions he wanted to ask you, so many things he wanted to know about you, but he refrained. Cautious himself, in bridging a gap too rashly in the face of the new dynamic you both found yourselves in. You were startled in ways he would never be able to fully anticipate, certain words, yes, certain actions, fast movements, sudden movements, you admitted to being put on edge by.

You looked up at him, the difference in height something he would be hesitant to admit that he was rather fond of. Your eyes were asking for something you didn’t voice and with a step forward, a hand reached out to steady yourself on his upper arm as you pushed yourself onto the tips of your toes and leaned your forehead briefly against the front of his helmet. The casual act of something that began to mean so much to the both of you, comforting in its simplicity. He closed his eyes behind the helmet, taking in the moment before you were pulling away from him and disappearing behind the automatic doors of the building with a last wiggle of your fingers toward the Child.

You looked back once, seeing how the neon lights of the cities nightlife reflected on his beautiful armor before you walked up to the counter and signed in with the aid of a nurse. As if sensing your nerves and how uncomfortable you were, she brought over a warm cup of tea the second you had settled down into a chair to wait for a room to be ready. You smiled at her, grateful for the touch of hospitality.

You had contacted him once back in the waiting room, after being cleared by a medic that you were free to go. They had asked…rather difficult questions, prompting you to admit you had no idea how long the implant had been in your body, what type it was, and that you hadn’t had a choice in its installation to begin with. The nurse explained in a hushed tone that your visit would be covered by the clinic due to the nature of your condition. You could see in red lettering the classification of ‘slaving victim’ on your paperwork laid out in front of her and your stomach soured at the description.

A simple conversation saying you would meet him back on the ship, you made your way back to the hanger slowly. You were able to walk comfortably now, your lower stomach and the internal organs there no longer cramping uncomfortably.

The implant had been removed, the offer for another one turned down with a shake of your head. The small incision that had been made was nearly invisible to the eye, but you knew where it was due to the phantom feeling of it lingering in your mind. They had given you a small collection of supplies that included suppression shots should you want them, absorption pads and inserts, painkillers, and a tin of tea that would help to soothe your symptoms.

The dose they had administered you while there had taken full effect by the time you were walking up the boarding ramp. You had expressed caution toward them, explaining that you had been given certain drugs against your will and that you were worried about experiencing withdrawal or addiction. They had assured you that the low dose would only ease the cramps, the medicine formulated to focus on the origin of pain and not an all-encompassing barrage on your nervous system.

You hovered outside the ship, reaching into the pouch strapped to your right thigh. The snick of a lighter was loud in the quiet of the late hour. You had no idea if it was closer to the middle of the night or the sunrise, the sky a dark velvet blue above you, sprinkled with glittering stars. You watched them absentmindedly as you smoked a cigarra, not wanting the smoke or smell of the tabac to collect inside the ship.

Feeling a little more like yourself, you opted for another attempt at a shower. You noticed the bag adi’ka had been cradled into atop the makeshift table. The ramp closed with the whine of mechanics behind you, and you assumed Din was up in the control room. Your hunch was proven right as the ship hummed to life and you heard the clearance for take-off from a speaker up above followed by a small gaggle of laughter from the small being as the ship lifted up into the air.

Smiling to yourself, you set your stuff beside the bag and made your way over to the refresher.

Exiting the refresher with a towel in your hand, you dried your hair as best you could, some sand from Tatooine still stubborn despite the wash of water and product. The motion jostled your chest, free underneath the plain, short sleeved shirt you wore. Planning on napping after the late-night excursion and the tense rotations that let up to it.

Sighing, you plopped down atop a crate around the makeshift table for a bite to eat. There was a cup of the tea you had placed atop the makeshift table waiting for you, the steam wafting from it telling you Din had timed it to finish just as your shower had. He had his own cup of caf in front of him, nearly empty. You took a sip of it, wincing at how the cut inside your mouth throbbed at the temperature. You must’ve bitten your cheek sometime recently as you battled against the pain that had taken over so fully.

Looking up, you found Din staring blatantly at you. His visor aimed directly at you though he hadn’t moved or spoken since you joined him. Not knowing the exact trace of his eyes, you figured they had swept over your form from top to bottom, suspecting that he clocked the absence of an undergarment. You were about to ask him if he was okay when you noticed the way bare hands were twitching atop the table where he cradled the mug.

He was in just his clothing once again, a habit you wouldn’t had thought of him, even aboard his own ship safely traveling through space. But you were kind of glad he was so comfortable around you now, to do so. He hadn’t before Sorgan, always keeping the full suit of armor and his weapons on. You crossed one leg over the other, and leaned your elbows atop the table as you cradled your own mug, aware of how it positioned you.

“See something you like?” The teasing lilt to your voice and the upturn of your lips in a smirk received a deep sigh from the man across from you. His fingers stilled on the ceramic, the rest of him motionless as if he were frozen in place. Energy thrummed between you, filling you up and making you bold. The hormones running high in your body winning out over your reason and logic as you shifted, the action pushing your chest together.

“Are…you okay, now?” He sounded a little winded, as if words were hard to come by. You wondered if he had been thinking back to all the times you had been injured before. Coalescing into a steady stream of memories he regretted collecting and recalling as new instances arose. You didn’t want him to only think of you as someone who he had to look out for, care for in such a way. Someone who was constantly facing illness and injury, but your recent track record couldn’t be argued because it was exactly that. A mark of time determined by what ailed you. But he revealed that exact internal struggle with his next words. “I would like to stop finding you on the floor of the fresher covered in blood.”

Not letting his concern deflate you too much, you took a sip from the tea before answering.

“I know that…must not be easy, I-“

“Do not apologize,” He cut you off softly, words beseeching as he leaned closer toward you. “I will look after you in any circumstance. You need to know that. But are you feeling any better, after?”

You grimaced slightly, not liking the way he worried so deeply, reassured you so strongly that he could handle it. You wanted to give him good memories too, not only sorrow and worry drenched ones so close together they blurred. But he needed to know what was written down on your chart should it arise in the future if you sought out official medical treatment again. You had given them your false name, the one you used while on the run, but if anyone where to input your birth date and description, your officially chain code would pop up. Dots could be connected and your cover blown.

“They marked me as a slaving victim. Covered the cost to remove the implant and gave me all these supplies. Gave me some pain killers to help manage.” You waved a hand toward the small bag they had gifted you on your departure. You stared into the dark of your cup. The pod of dehydrated herbs visible just beneath the surface, steeping. “But yes, I’m okay right now.”

“I didn’t look, when I helped you up, if that worries you.” He tapped a bare finger to the side of his helmet, letting you know that he had probably used another view setting to prevent such a thing, of crossing an unspoken line. Showing you respect even in dire situations if he could.

Taking your bottom lip between your teeth, you glanced over at him for a moment before your eyes fell back to the mug cradled in your hands.

“…I don’t think it would be such a bad thing if you had looked.” You felt heat creep up your neck and toward your face at the quiet confession. He remained silent, processing. The visor of his helmet was aimed at you across the makeshift table, his hands tapping against the ceramic of his own mug.

“You’re allowed to ask questions, Din.” You reached out and took one of his hands in your own, squeezing it in reassurance. A small smile aimed at him. “That’s part of the…courting process, no?”

He was quiet for a moment, but the visor of his helmet was tilted just a bit as he regarded you, letting you know he was thinking something over and not ignoring you. You waited on him, not pressuring him but giving him the time he needed to think over his next words. This…new dynamic was all foreign to you, having never sought out a connection with anyone in such a way. But Din…he was worth it.

The things you’ve both done for each other speaking volumes when words weren’t either of your strong suits. You saving him and risking your wellbeing while still under his transport, him allowing you space in his ship and giving you the opportunity to make your own life. The softness he’s let you glimpse at that makes up the man that he is, so unlike the other side of him that hunts and ensures his livelihood. The same side that inspired him to turn on the Guild to help save a child who had no one else, a good manat his core. Someone you wanted to get to know, to be with, to connect with.

He shifted, his helmet taking in the remnants of the drink in his hands. When he spoke, his voice was careful, as if he was worried he was asking for too much of you despite wanting to know as much about you as possible. The woman who he hadn’t expected you to turn out to be back when that tracking fob first burst to life on Arvala-7. The woman he wanted to connect with despite feeling as if he didn’t deserve it, couldn’t be worthy of such a good thing in his life for all the bad he’d done.

“Is that…what you would like? For me to officially court you?”

“Well, you did ask to make a commitment to me,” You teased lightly, but genuine in your words. Shy in the wake of saying so aloud, of bringing it to the dim light of the hold space as the ship traveled through hyperspace toward a job he didn’t have much information on other than he once worked with those orchestrating it. “I would like to get to know you too.”

“I do have questions, but this is new…to me.”

“And I understand that, it’s all new to me too, cyar'ika.”

He was quiet for another beat, the term of endearment sprouting warmth in his chest. The modulator crackled with a heavy exhale. “How is it that…you know so much about my culture?”

“Ah, that’s a…rather long story.” Sipping from the mug in your free hand, you didn’t take away your other one from atop his. Your fingers flexed over his own, tangling with them as you brought his hand closer to you. You wrapped both of your hands around his one, fingers idly playing with his as you collected your thoughts. Your heart was beating hard in your chest at the contact, his skin so soft against your own. His thick fingers and wide palm so much bigger than your own. And he was warm, Maker, was he hot to the touch. His pulse was fast in the wrist you brushed over in your tentative exploration.

“Tell me, mesh’la.” His comforting words washed over you and you took a deep breath before you shared a part of yourself no one knew about.

“We sold armor in a small shop front and offered repairs as well. We had a man come by one day, all his armor damaged and he was too injured to travel. My mother let him stay with us while he healed and we helped to fix his armor with his guidance. It was really advanced and so beautifully crafted, his helmet especially. He was such a kind man, he explained to me about how the armor was a part of him and that it was a great honor to have found people who respect the art of it when he couldn’t return to his home planet for repairs.”

He taught me small words and phrases in Mando’a, told me all about his studies as he grew up. I think he was trying to fill the time it took him to heal and was grateful for someone to interact with, he said he had been alone for a long while…. I often wondered if he had been my father, the way he paid attention to me and shared with me. But I don’t think he was, not biologically at least. I learned as much as I could from the Temple library and histories about Mandalorians once that became my life.

When he left, he had given me his chain code, I sought him out after I escaped from the attack, hoping he could help me. He made the trip to the city, it took him a few days but, he helped me get off world, even though it had been years since last seeing him. We travelled for... a long time, trying to keep Clones and Troopers off our trail. He trained me, made sure I wouldn’t be helpless should we be separated. He taught me about his culture more in depth, how he was raised, how to travel, how to fight, how to survive. He…he died protecting me.”

“San…” Din’s hand turned in your grip, his other joining it to hold your trembling hands. A few tears fell from your watering eyes, racing down the curve of your cheek.

“He was a good man, a better guardian than my mother.” Your words were slightly bitter, taking over the taste of the tea on your tongue. Disdain for the woman who claimed to love you, only to chain you to a wall and drug you for so long. The rich baritone of Din’s voice called you back to the present, with a question that made your chest warm.

“What was his name?”

“Akiz Noves.”

Silence fell over the table, your hands warm from his touch, from his comfort. You wanted to ask to lay down, to feel him beside you. But the conversation had been...harder than you thought and you wanted to be alone with your thoughts. You worried your bottom lip, unsure of admitting another thing aloud to him. But he felt safe.

“I have…I had the pendant he gave me, but it wasn’t in my stuff from the compound. I…I was going to show it to you once we were back on your ship after you collected me, but it was missing. To try and connect with you, but it was gone, and you were so…” You trailed off, not feeling like you needed to explain something he lived along with you. “It feels like losing him all over again.”

Din reached into the collar of his long-sleeved shirt and pulled on a cord you hadn’t noticed around his neck until now. The shiny metal pendant of a detailed skull hung from it as he brought it out from beneath the fabric of his shirt. In a swift move, he removed the cord from around his neck, the clasp easily detaching underneath his bare fingers. He held it out to you and your breath caught in your throat.

“I know it’s not the same, but I can offer you my own.”

You were suddenly out of your seat and settling over his lap, arms wrapping around him in a tight hug. A grunt sounded from the modulator at the sudden weight of you pushing against him, your chest pressed close to his own. His hands came around you slowly, as if he was hesitant to touch you, but when he did, he squeezed you tight. The bottom of his helmet hooked over your shoulder and closed his eyes at the sniffles that sounded into the air. He held you to him despite the feeling in his legs going numb. But for you, he would stay locked in the embrace, for you he would do just about anything.

“I’m sorry about your parents, Din.” The words were pressed into the side of his neck, lips brushing against his skin, and he shivered slightly at the feeling of them. You placed a closed lipped smile on the skin there, offering comfort in a new way as your heart tittered in your chest, the action completely new for you. To want to offer physical touch, comforting touch in such a way. His hands tightened around you, knuckles popping with the force he clung to your shirt.

“I will try to share things with you, but you might not like parts of me.” You whispered into his neck, worried about the parts of your life you didn’t think about, let be exposed by the light of day.

“You might not like parts of me, but if you ask, I will give them to you as well.”

Later that hour, you were settled into your own cot, blankets drown up around your shoulders as you lay on your side, the pendant of the necklace grasped in your hand as you turned it over and over, taking in the beauty of the beskar it was made from. Taking in the very real fact that Din had given it to you without hesitation, just as he had committed himself to you. You fell asleep with a smile on your face and a warmth in your chest you were beginning to like more and more.

You could descend down to the hold and seek him out. The errant thought sparked through your mind much like the remnants of the dream you had been having did. Dissipating phantom feelings of large hands exploring your body had your thighs pressed together and your bottom lip between your teeth as pleasure waned from your nerves. You turned to lay on your back, the pendant slipping from where you had cradled it in your hand while asleep.

Hands scrabbling for it, you pressed it into the give of your chest, the cool beskar like a soft breath against your skin through the fabric of your shirt. With a sigh, heat flared at the notion that Din had given you a part of himself. Before you could think better of it, hands were sneaking underneath your shirt, dragging the pendant over sensitive skin. The coolness of it lightly tracing over the peaks of your breasts stuttered your breath, heartbeat thumping between your thighs.

The painkillers had worked through the night, allowing you to feel the full force of the cravings your body was now calling out for, a result of your heightened hormones and the all-encompassing feeling of having connected with someone. Of wanting someone.

A trembling hand reached down and delved beneath the band of the sleep pants you had donned before bed. Fingers reached toward the sensitive bundle of nerves that was aching between your folds. Slick coated them as they sought it out, small tingles spreading across your skin and lighting you up in a way you had never felt before. When they brushed against it, your breath left you in a deep gasp, pleasure sparking sharp through your entire body. Your hand jerked away, overwhelmed at the sensation and you suck in heaving breaths as your eyes had flown open.

Body tingling, you moved your fingers back over the bundle in small, gentle circles. Panting as heat and pleasure consumed you from the inside out, you began to move them faster, fingers pressing harder. Hips bucking up as pleasure simmered deliciously in your abdomen, a far cry from the pain that had been cresting there just hours ago.

Tugging your bottom lip between your teeth to quiet the small whines that were bleeding from you, the muscles of your stomach tensed. There was no other warning before white heat crashed over you and you came undone, release hitting you hard enough for you to shout out.

Hand still pressed against your core as you tried to catch your breath, you could feel yourself flutter around nothing. Body calling out for something else, for something more. So quickly in the wake of experiencing something for the first time and suddenly it wasn’t enough.

Face warming at what you had just done, what had just washed over you, you turned to press it into the pillow beneath your head. Shame tried to rear its head, but you shoved it down, not wanting to experience it, not wanting to succumb to it in the wake of taking something back for yourself. Of finding good in something that had been bad for so long. A lazy smile pulled at your lips, and you fell back into the sleep that had never really waned from the edges of your mind. The beskar pendant held tight in your hand once again.

Gravity shifted as the ship descended from hyperspace, making your stomach jump up somewhere in your ribs, hand coming down to steady yourself on the makeshift table where your tools and metal castings were scattered.

The Child reached out for you at the shift, surely his tummy had done the same and it was foreign to him. His small hands clung to you as you moved him from beside your stuff to your lap, crossing your legs for him to lay in the divot it created. He looked up at you with his wide eyes, thoughts connecting with yours to speak to you in the only way he could. It was just a feeling of confusion that blossomed over your own thoughts, and you carefully blanketed it with comfort. He relaxed in your lap, reaching out for a tool and he waved it around.

“I’ll come with you,” You said without looking up as you hear the hush of him moving down the ladder.

A few moments later, you were following behind him, having settled ad’ika securely in Din’s quarters with a snack and soft reassurances that you would be back soon.

He paused at the top of the ramp, casting his gaze over you.

“I was younger when I worked with them, a different man than I am now.” He spoke evenly, but you could hear the hesitancy in his voice as he tried to be honest with you. “More boy than man, they may- will say things about me that don’t apply anymore. Please don’t pay them any mind.”

You stuttered out an agreement, wanting him to know that you heard him but unable to collect your thoughts enough to articulate them.

His shoulders are tense, though only noticeable because you had seen him so relaxed around the Crest during the rotations it took to travel. His steps measured and careful, as he descended the ramp ahead of you. The hangar was a bit of a mess, people gathered about, some working on parts of mechanics you couldn’t identify. As he walked through the space, people were blatant in their stares.

“Mando!” An older human with wild gray hair and a long beard approached. “Is that you under that bucket?”

A hand was held out in greeting, though something about the way he spoke set you on edge. Like there was something behind his words. Calculating.

“Ran.” Din greeted, extended his own hand to shake with the man’s offered one.

“I didn’t really know if I’d ever seen you in these parts again. Good to see ya.” The same hand that had been shaking Din’s reached up over his armored shoulders in a fleeting touch you were surprised he let happen. “I was a little surprised when you reached out to me.”

“Ya know, cause I…I hear things. Like maybe things between you and the Guild aren’t workin’ out.”

“I’ll be fine.” Ran leaned back a little, his hair shifting over his shoulders as he raised his hands in a placating manner, letting the man know he wasn’t about to push the subject.

“Okay. Well, you know the policy. No questions. And you, you’re welcome back here anytime. Now, be polite and introduce me to the little shadow you got following behind you.”

“This is-”

“Sarad.” You held out a hand, anticipating a handshake in greeting. But the man stepped close and held it between both of his own. His eyes bore into your own, flicking between them, and you felt seen in a way that put you on edge. Your clothing felt too tight all of a sudden, body lighting up with anxious energy that you tried to quell so it wasn’t noticeable.

“Such a quiet little shadow, where did he pick you up?”

“Tatooine,” The lie flowed easily, this man was a stranger to you, someone you had no qualms about being honest with despite his seemingly temperate disposition. But there was just something about him, about the way he held himself that you weren’t fond of. Wary of in the wake of working alongside Din or merely being around as Din worked with him.

“Well, pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sarad.” He released your hand, turning to lead you both through the open space of the crowded hanger, up a flight of stairs and across a heightened walkway.

“So what’s the job?”

Ran halted his steps, turning to survey the wall of armor Din made up beside him. He took a moment before he responded, as if he had been thinking over his words. Something that caught your attention all the same. He was hiding something, and not just in general but something that pertained to Din specifically.

“Yeah, one of our associates ran afoul of some competitors and got himself caught. So I’m puttin’ together a crew to spring him. It’s a five person job. I got four.” Ran paused, taking a moment to look out over the space below, mental tabs on the people working and milling about. “All I need is the ride, and you brought it.”

“The ship wasn’t part of the deal.”

“Well, the Crest is the only reason I let you back in here.” Ran’s voice shifted down an octave, displaying a glimpse of authority.

Din turned to him, helmet heavily tilted to the side, his distrust obvious.

“What’s the look?” Ran moved in close, getting right up in front of the visor, body almost pressed against the armor. He spoke directly into the side sensors of the helmet, not looking nervous in the slightest, if his next words were any indication. Voice pitched low and slightly taunting. “Is that gratitude?”

“Uh-huh. I think it is.” Din didn’t move a muscle, visor trained on the man as he stepped back and away, feeling righteous in his intimidation and lack of response from the armored man.

Din cast his gaze down at the floor, helmet not giving anything away, but you could read his movements as well as if you could see his face. The way he lifted the helmet to you in a silent apology, for getting involved in whatever was about to transpire. You gave a single, curt nod. Letting him know that it was okay, that the job was something you were willing to go along with if he was.

You both followed the man as he crossed the remaining suspension, down a flight of stairs at the other end. He called out as he approached a small gathering of storage cabinets and a long table, a figure busy between them.

“Hey, Mayfeld.”

“Yeah?” A man dressed in all black with a dark leather harness draped over his back turned from where he was retrieving something from within a set of the storage drawers. There were three heavy duty looking guns fastened into the harness, tight against his body. He had no hair, but the short beard that decorated his face was the color of candied ginger.

“This is Mando, the guy I was tellin’ you about. We used to do jobs way back when.”

“This is the guy?” Mayfeld approached the table, using it as a shield between himself and the imposing figure Din made by simply standing there.

“Yeah, we were all young, tryin’ to make a name for ourselves.” Ran mused, as if that explained it all away. The things were you suspecting Din had tried to warn you about before disembarking.

“Yeah, but runnin’ with a Mandalorian, that was… That brought us some reputation.”

“Oh yeah? What did he get out of it?”

“I asked him that one time. You remember what you said, Mando? Target practice.” Ran’s laughter was boisterous as it sprung into the air from deep in his chest, garnering the attention of a few passersby. “We did some crazy stuff, didn’t we?”

“That was a long time ago.”

“Well… I don’t go out anymore. You understand?” The same tone of pressured understanding hid underneath his words as he regarded Din, “So, uh, Mayfield, he’s gonna run point on this job. If he says it, it’s like it’s comin’ from me. You good with that?”

“You tell me.” Din faced Mayfeld over the expanse of the low table head on, visor aimed at the slightly disgruntled face of the man he would have to work with.

Ran’s laughter rang again, “You haven’t changed one bit.”

“Yeah, well, things have changed around here.” The intimidation didn’t quite hit the same coming from Mayfeld, his words thrown over his shoulder as he walked away. He didn’t impact his words with eye contact or head on communication.

“I think he’ll be able to play catch up, he’s got his little shadow here to help him along.” Ran nodded at you, you just stared as his eyes met your own. He was watching you, keeping tabs on how you moved a few steps behind and to the right of Din. Never straying too far from him but maintaining a respectful distance. “Yeah, well, Mayfeld, he’s…he’s one of the best triggermen I’ve ever seen. Former Imperial sharpshooter.”

You tried not to let the way your body stiffened show, blood chilling in your veins as your eyes roved over the man who had walked away. Static buzzed in your head, thoughts muddling together as your hand twitched over the where it rested atop the pouch strapped to your right thigh.

“That’s not saying much.” Din deadpanned; his voice flat but controlled as he could feel how you had tensed beside him. Sensed how you had taken the smallest step closer toward him.

“I wasn’t a storm tropper, wiseass.” Mayfeld shot the insult over his shoulder, it not landing as he looked away too quickly for it to have any heat.

“Don’t take long, does it?” Ran chuckled to himself as he looked between all three of you, smirk crawling over his lips in a worrying display.

“Razor Crest? I can’t believe that thing can fly. Looks like a Canto Bight slot machine. Alright, that good lookin’ fellow there with the horns, that’s Burg.” Mayfeld gave a perfunctory introduction as he led the way toward the ship, his back tense as he did so. The Devaronian that had been holding a large crate dropped it, the loud thud of it hitting the floor making the muscles in your thighs twitch. “This may surprise you, but he’s our muscle.”

Burg approached quickly, interest piqued at your arrival. He moved to stand right up in Din’s personal space and looked him up and down. Circling him to get a full look at the armor he donned. He sneered, distaste obvious. “So this is a Mandalorian. I thought they’d be bigger.”

“Driod’s name is Zero.” The droid was of a protocol model you faintly recognized, some version of a Q9 you may have run into while on your travels. He had been messing with a transmitter of some sort, along a bank of equipment that probably allowed for control of the hanger door and settings. He vaguely resembled an insect, the eye sensors bulging out like a member of the eusocial species.

“I thought you said you had four.”

“He does.” A feminine voice announced from behind you. You mirrored Din as he turned slowly to watch an approaching Twi’lek. Her skin was a soft, pastel purple, covered by simple clothing. Outfit punctuated by a loaded down belt and a leather harness about her head. There was the glint of a knife in her hand, settled at her side as she walked closer.

“Hello, Mando.” She greeted, though her words were simmering.

“Xi’an.” Your ears caught the slight surprise in his tone, setting alarms off in your head.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t cut you down where you stand?” She began to twirl the knife in her grip as she neared, suddenly lunging at him and raising the blade to rest just below his helmet. He didn’t flinch in the slightest, almost as if he had been expecting her, but again, even if he hadn’t, you doubted he would’ve shown any indication of alarm.

“Nice to see you too.”

Her shrill laugh squeaked into the air, grating on your ears in an unpleasant way. The surrounding people laughed along with her, finding humor in the deliverance of Din’s words.

Xi’an sighed a deep breath, knife still held up to Din’s neck, “I’ve missed you.”

Your eyes narrowed at her words, not liking the implication of them. To your right, Mayfeld must’ve picked up on the meaning of them as well, he looked over to Ran with raised eyebrows. Your own questioning thoughts mirrored in his expression.

“This is shiny.” Xi’an preened at the sight of Din’s new armor, tapping against it with the blade of her knife in echoing clangs. She clicked her tongue as he leaned impossibly further into his space, hovering so close to the front of his helmet. “You wear it well.” She purred, voice pitched low and sultry.

“Do we need to leave the room or something?” Mayfeld asked, showing his slight discomfort at the exchange. You were tense, however, entire body lined with muscles ready to snap. It was blatantly obvious that she and Din had…had relations. He had told you he had past experiences, but you never anticipated interacting with anyone he had been involved with. And yet, here you were, in a sketchy lone space station far from anything else with a group of unsavory people. About to work a job with one of them.  

“Well, Xi’an’s been a little heartbroken since Mando left our group.” Ran said by way of explanation, gaze aimed at you as your hands shifted from your sides to hook in between the leather of your belt and the fabric of your trousers. The corner of his mouth ticked up slightly, entertained by the unfolding display.

“Awe. You gonna be okay, sweetheart? Especially with his little shadow joining us.” Mayfeld teased, voice taking on a sarcastic, saccharine lilt. The man nodded over to you but she didn’t divert her attention from Din.

“Oh, I’m all business now.” She stepped back from Din, not giving you any attention as she turned to face him and jutted her entire arm out with the knife pointing at him. “Learned from the best.”

At the smallest tilt of Din’s helmet toward you, she turned and gave you her full attention. Knife twirling in her grip once again. She walked up close to you, smirk pulling at her dark lips, giving you a glimpse of the canines, she possessed.

“And what’s this little thing? Mando’s little shadow, you said?” She teased as she stepped into your personal space. Blocking you from seeing how Din took a single step forward or how Ran shook his head toward him. You simply took a few steps back, not caring if it made you look weak to do so and put space between you both. “So demure and quiet while the grown ups talk.”

“This little thing will shove that knife in your throat if you so much as look at me with it in your hand,” You slapped her hand away when she raised the aforementioned knife, preparing to brandish it at you just as she had done with Din. The blade caught an overhanging light and glinted at you as the sound of the slap echoed around the hangar. Her squeaking laugh grated on your ears once again, her mouth open wide as she closed the space between you both again in a bold move.

“Oooh, it’s feisty. I like ‘em like that. Mando does too, but you’d know that, hmm?” She tossed a taunting look over her shoulder at him, tongue peeking out between her teeth.

“Enough.” Din’s voice was even in volume, but his tone left no room for a follow up. There was an air about him you had yet to see, not even a few moments ago when he was interacting with Ran and Mayfeld. Though he had been on edge, he had remained businesslike, collected. But he now seemed to be barely holding in a manner of hostility you had only glimpsed at previously. It was as if he was alarmed by her presence, by the words in which she spat at you both, the implications that were spewing from her mouth. His demeanor hadn’t shifted until she made her presence known, approaching the group in the way that she had.

“Touchy, touchy. Hit a nerve did I?” She leaned into your space much like she had done with him, knife brandished at you now despite your threat. But she didn’t get the chance to step within inches of your front like she had done with Din. You raised a hand from where they had been hooked over your belt, mentally reaching out and pushing against her advancement toward you with the Force. You hid it well, hand making contact with her middle to look as if you pushed her. Her expression cleared for just a second at the pulse of energy, before her face contorted into an ugly one, and she snarled at you from the distance you had shoved her.

Unable to fight against the energy you were harnessing against her, she howled, teeth glinting in the lights of the hangar space. Her rage drew the attention of the scattered members of the organization, heads turning to witness you merely standing there with a hand raised almost lazily in front of you as you glared at her with a neutral expression and her frantic struggle against invisible restraints.

“Ni kelir not borarir ti kaysh.  Ti a etyc uram bal bid aru'ela.”

 I will not work with her. With such a dirty mouth and too much hostility.

“Complaining to Mando, are we?” She trilled, snickering laugh falling from the upturned corners of her mouth. “Need him to handle your fights for you, hmm?”

“Besom.” You hissed as you flicked your wrist, fingers splaying out with the action. No longer feeling the need to hide your motions of using the Force, too ticked off to think about it. She fell to the ground, the movement too fast for her to catch herself and she glared up at you with a threatening tint in her eyes. Blood dripped from her spit lip, face having connected hard with the ground. You turned away from her, keeping her in your eyesight, not trusting your back to her and you faced the ship, preparing to board and seek out the privacy of your room with the Child for the duration of the trip. She was rude.

Din took a few silent steps toward you, standing between the angry woman on the ground and your still standing figure. His modulator crackled as he opened his mouth, but Ran interrupted him with a tone of authority he had only hinted at having before.

“Alright, lovebirds. Break it up till you get on the ship. Then you all can figure out a new dynamic. Right now, we don’t have much time.”

You held her down for a moment more, feeling powerful in the way she struggled on the ground, despite the feeling of remorse in the back of your head for doing so. You refused to meet her eyes as you relaxed your hand, tucking it into your pocket at the front of your trousers. With another snarl aimed at you she stood with swift movements. For a second you felt like she was going to lunge at you again, but thought better of it at the last moment.

When she was a safe distance away, she turned back around and aimed a wink at Din.

Burg decided to size Din up once more, stepping right into his space like he had done before. Passing over judgement at the way he had idly stood by during the exchange between you and Xi’an. His laugh was deep in tone and rumbling.

“Tiny.” The smile he aimed down at the visor anything but friendly.

“Even tinier.” The voice like gravel aimed directly at you only gave a second’s notice before he was stepping toward you and reaching. Your axis tilted, as he lifted you effortlessly off the ground, causing your legs to dangle. Dangerous quiet fell over the group for a few beats. Those that had turned toward the ship looking back at the taunting Burg had decided to do.

“Put. Me. Down.” Voice pitched low, a threat hidden in the words. Over the entire lot of them, these people that Din once worked grating on your nerves in the worst way. Making you into something you didn’t want to be, openly hostile and on edge. So unlike the disposition you had adapted over the last few weeks.

Your hands looked small where they gripped the wrists of the Devaronian, him holding tight to the front of your cloak where he held you up to his face level. You met his eyes head on, not leaving the blue of them as he scrutinized you openly. aware that everyone was tense as they watched the scene play out. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see how Din’s dominant hand had fallen to hover over the handle of the blaster nestled into its holster at his side. “Now.”

“Heh, tough little one.” He rumbled before setting you back on your feet. His hands came down heavily on your shoulders where he patted you, before he turned to gather with the rest of the group off to the side of the ship.

The second you were alone in front of the ship, you turned to face Din with a slight frown, clearly upset but trying to remain as composed as possible. Your expression smoothed into something neutral, so much like it had been in your early days of interaction with the man. His helmet shifted to look over at you, away from where he had been staring after the group as they began to talk amongst themselves by a collection of errant machinery. He clocked the way the muscles in your neck were jumping, pulse racing.

“I thought you said they asked after you for a job.” You tried to keep the accusation from your low words, but it was obvious that Ran hadn’t been expecting him. It had been plain old luck that a job was being put together and he appeared just in time to be included, that much you could piece together. But the Din they were referring to, you didn’t know that version of him and you didn’t want to. Not right now when you were so riled up at being picked on, feeling the need to defend yourself when all you had done was simply stand beside the man.

“It was an open-ended offer, from some time ago.”

“You- you can’t lie to me. Even by omission and way of words. About jobs or about whatever the kriff went on between you and her.” The last word nearly hissed from between your lips, clear distaste for the woman stemming not just from her attitude but whatever history was apparent between her and the man standing silently beside you. You began to walk up the ramp, stepping silently on the metal that made it up. You didn’t look back at him as you always did, something you couldn’t bring yourself to do with the overwhelming feeling of jealousy and unease at the situation you were now in. Thrown into something with people you would rather avoid than spend time with in close quarters. “Otherwise, none of this is going to work.”

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taglist: @strawberri-blonde @js-favnanadoongi @moonknight-s-cumdump @bookloverkat @littlemisspascal

dividers by the lovely saradika

[chrlvctius]

orders just keep on coming at our door and I'm glad my mom doesn't notice them because she'll be soo mad if she knew how much I've been spending for jerseys and shit 😭😭 AHAJHAHAHAHA girly's literally a collector atp (I got like 10 from diff teams now 😞👊🏻 mostly arsenal ones) PLUSSS i have an arsenal away jersey of martinelli that's coming 😎😀

[rainypebble07]

My Byler Fanfics (and a short introduction to each one- so you can find your perfect match)

Hello! I'm trying something new because I feel like my prior fic masterpost with my honest opinions was too many words to look at, so I'm just gonna list the best parts of each of my fics and you can see if you're interested!

It Wasn't a Bad Thing- Don't read this. It was my first fic and it's bad. I did write a rewrite though, which comes up later in the list.

How To Handle Your Love Life and the Apocolypse at the Same Time- Takes place after season four, TONS of Nancy and Mike stuff, Will and Mike in the Upside Down, Mike might sing, MIKE AND NANCY GIRLS' NIGHT, one of my earlier fics but still decent! (46k words)

Much Ado About... Something?- High school theatre AU, they put on Much Ado About Nothing, Mike's a theatre kid, Suzie and Dustin in tech make me happy, very angst at the end, MURRAY'S THE DIRECTOR SO YOU KNOW THAT IT'LL BE GOOD, my most kudos-ed fic. (54k words)

The Unwanted Return of Everything (And How it Finally Ends)- Long, possession stuff, everyone's in college but they have to come back to Hawkins bc the Upside Down is back, decent plot twists, Will has a boyfriend so JEALOUS MIKE, there's like three different conflicts, angsty angst sometimes (76k words)

Shady Business- My fav, Superspy AU, Will's working for the evil corporation and is secretly trying to take down the agency Mike works at, Mike writes a poem, suspenseful plot, gala gala dancing dancing, just my favorite thing ever idk what else to say (54k words)

Mike Wheeler's Guide to the Undead- LITTLE BABY MIWI, Will died in the upside down and comes back as a zombie, cute cute cute, the little baby party, Nancy Wheeler, Miwi again, heart-to-heart on top of a crypt, we get REVENGE on Troy Walsh, it's younger Mike so he's sweet (31k words)

It Wasn't A Bad Thing (REWRITTEN)- Mike's a florist, Will own's a tattoo parlor, El and Mike and Will all have POVs as they try to figure themselves out, my aro/ace Eleven agenda is showing, Mike and Nancy, Will and El!, Mike's an absolute disaster, the zoo, Robin and Will friendship, Mike and Will get matching tattoos, the angst very much agnsts (52k words)

If Time Runs Out- Pirate AU, Mike's a royal and he gets kidnapped by pirates, Jonathan's the captain, so Jancy's also there, Will teaches Mike to sword fight, Mike teaches Will to waltz, Mike has internalized piratephobia, Murray can tell the future, Steve has a ship called the toddfather (70k words)

Alright! That's all! Hopefully, you found something you are interested in!

[the-new-fanfic-order]

Personal Post (tw: death, murder)

My aunt was brutally murdered by her boyfriend on Sunday, February 18th, 2024. He died later in a vehicle incident trying to flee the city and left her there.

We don’t know how long she was alive before someone found her and called for help, since she was pronounced dead on arrival.

I’m only making this post to just give updates on exactly what I’ve been up to lately since I haven’t written in who knows how long.

She was taken from our family by a monster, and he’s lucky he doesn’t get to face consequences for what he did.

Her name is Shiela Ang, and she was the victim of domestic abuse, violence, and homicide. Please be careful in who you trust, please keep yourself safe, and most importantly, hold your loved ones close.

Always take pictures and videos, always hold onto memories, because you don’t know when they’ll be gone.

- Zoe