#i have worked so hard to write this story and connected all the dots and create unique cultural things so!!! i hope yall enjoy it!!!

[brella-boi]

Connection - Short Story

A soft introduction to two aliens and their dragon inhabiting Earth after a war in homeworld. It takes them a lot to confide in each other and spill their secrets. And especially to participate in their culture's old traditions of Soul Touch that one has never experienced before.

Words: ~4000

Tags: DJ, Finnick, Zaphix, comfort, mentor, war mention, death mention, cultural differences, bonding, feel good story.

!!Link!!

#i have worked so hard to write this story and connected all the dots and create unique cultural things so!!! i hope yall enjoy it!!! #i love alien worldbuilding #aliens #xenobiology #writing #short story #myart #dj #finnick #zaphix #it took me a month to draw this lmao i was not motivated but i still really want to share the story so!! #jaywrites

[maplesyrupsainz]

˖⁺｡˚⋆˙clues | MV1˖⁺｡˚⋆˙

pairing: max verstappen x singer!reader y/n (she/her)

genre: social media au

warnings: fluff af

summary: in which you and your boyfriend lay out clues for your fans to connect the dots of your new relationship

a/n: super cute req not a maisie fan myself but saw the soft launch pics nd immediately thought i need to make a fanfic of this 😝 ended up choosing max coz i feel like i've done slightly similar plots with oscar & lando before, i barely write for max !

request!!!: Hiii, I’ve never requested before so slightly nervous but I have idea lol. Idk if you know who Maisie peters is (amazing singer btw if you don’t know her go look her up!) but she recently just high key hard launched but covers the face of her bf, maybe you could do something like this for like max, Lando or Oscar 🤷‍♀️ I have been literally day dreaming about it and maybe like everyone’s trying to figure out who it is and with every picture that’s posted there’s clues idk!! Completely up to you! Anyway love your work 🫶🫶🫶

fc: maisie peters

my masterlist

instagram ->

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, oliviarodrigo, and 892,283 others

yourusername ‘there it goes’ is urs now.. i hope u love it as much as i do 🫶

view all 11,822 comments

user1 the love we had was eating me whole i had to send it home 🥺

user2 i threw a party he kissed me right in front of my friends ?!? 🤔

oliviarodrigo so amazing as always 🫶

yourusername ahh tysm angel!!!

yourbff SO PROUD OF U

yourusername love u so so much

user3 omg this song is so amazing im so happy she's moving on from her ex

user4 me too she deserves the world fr

user5 the way i loved u i will not be embarrassed of that ❤️

user6 she's so talented i love her fr

maxverstappen1 posted a story

liked by danielricciardo, yourbff, and 538,192 others

user7 OMG THE CROSSOVER

user8 wtf is max in london

user9 omg what is happeninggg

user10 feels sus

twitter ->

instagram ->

yourusername posted a story

liked by yourbff, maxverstappen1, and 718,634 others

user15 omg a bf ??

user16 OMG WHO IS HE

user17 boooo & we all wanted her to date max lol

user18 she alr has a man 😭

user19 max verstappen found d3@d

yourbff

liked by yourusername, gracieabrams, and 528,028 others

yourbff perks of ur best friend being famous xoxo

tagged: yourusername

view all 4,283 comments

user20 not y/bff/n being a red bull supporter!!!

user21 another win for the maxy/n agenda

user22 obsessed with the y/n f1 crossover

yourusername car go zoom or whatever

yourbff ikr my favourite part was when they drove fast

gracieabrams tell y/n to get off the paddock & into the studio!!

yourbff i'll let you tell her that 😝

yourusername 🤨

user23 you tell her gracie

user24 y/n looks sooo cute

user25 ikr max verstappen found crying in the rb garage

yourusername

liked by yourbff, redbullracing, and 991,367 others

yourusername gives u wings 🪽

tagged: yourbff

view all 13,892 comments

user26 omg the red bull references...

user27 IS SHE DATING MAX VERSTAPPEN I NEED TO KNOW

user28 so many clues

user29 maybe they're jus friends? they've never even been seen interacting

redbullracing 🫶

liked by yourusername

user30 something is happening

yourbff hehe 👀

user31 EVEN THIS IS SUSPICIOUS

user32 i feel like her first soft launch was too early for it to be max

twitter ->

interview ->

instagram ->

yourusername

liked by sabrinacarpenter, charles_leclerc, and 1,692,901 others

yourusername a crush? no well i would take him on a date if he wanted

view all 18,736 comments

user35 ok im convinced

user36 this is so cute i could cry

user37 NOT HER QUOTING MAX IM FINISHED

user38 they're dating surely

user39 "reasons i love you" omg😭😭😭😭

user40 CHARLES IN THE LIKES?

yourbff favs

liked by yourusername

twitter ->

instagram ->

maxverstappen1

liked by yourusername, landonorris, and 1,021,732 others

maxverstappen1 the best tour guide 🇬🇧

tagged: yourusername

view all 14,827 comments

user42 omg

user43 this is life changing

user44 IM SO SHOCKED

yourusername ❤️❤️

liked by maxverstappen1

user45 AHHH

yourbff finally

maxverstappen1 🤫

user46 can't believe my fav singer is dating my fav driver

user47 & who was it that said only hot girls support rb 😝

charles_leclerc my favourites

maxverstappen1 ❤️

twitter ->

instagram ->

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, maxverstappen1, and 1,927,183 others

yourusername my life my heart my love

tagged: maxverstappen1

view all 23,103 comments

user51 this relationship might be the best thing to ever happen to me

user52 daniel ricciardo in the likes we won fr

user53 i love u y/n

user54 y/n love songs about max incoming

charles_leclerc we love having you around y/n !

yourusername ahhh tysm for being so welcoming

user55 OMGGG LOVEEEE

danielricciardo slay y/n

yourusername yupppp u know ittt

user56 FRIENDSHIP?!?!??

yourusername of course we're friends i have to earn the approval of all of max's boyfriends

danielricciardo HAHAHAH

maxverstappen1 🤨

maxverstappen1 i love you

yourusername i love you 🥰

THE END 💙

#f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 smau #f1 fic #f1 x reader #smau #f1 imagine #max verstappen #mv1 #mv1 imagine #mv1 x reader #mv33 #maddie's smau

[rimunagenius]

Wait For Me

Paring: Kayce Dutton x reader!

Words: 2.1k words

Warnings: Angst, fluff ending, curse words?? if that’s even a warning, mentions of branding and burning, abuse, over use of baby (i love it, i love imagining him calling me that, do nit judge me🤨😒)

Summary: Growing up you and Kayce were inseparable. You didn’t know the love you shared was more than friends until sixteen, but what happens when John pushes Kayce too hard, and your relationship hangs in the balance?

ఌ If you want to check out my other works for other fandoms and this one, check out my masterlist!!

A/n: no gender or body specification made in the story, so this could be read from any gender/personal preference. This is very self indulgent for me, I love Kayce Dutton and have since i started Yellowstone and I was deeply upset with the lack of fics for him so I had to take matters into my own hands while this godsend of an author writes my requests!!🥹 anyways, hope you enjoy!!

not my gif!!

__________

You knew it was stupid.

You knew you couldn’t have him.

You can’t love someone into loving you back. You knew it. He knew it. He knew it would never happen between you; he wanted it to. He did love you, too much, though.

This summer had to be your favorite on the Dutton Ranch. Favorite in Montana. Your favorite in the world, same thing. As long as Kayce was there, it was the perfect anything.

You had loved him your whole life. Ever since you were kids anything he would do would mesmerize you. His hair caught in the breeze when you’d chase him around the arena for tag, his smile when you’d tell the same joke he was tired of but laughed because he knew it meant something to you.

Somewhere along the way, you had fallen inlove. You always had been, but this time you actually knew what it was. You knew why. It was Kayce. Any woman would be a fool to not love everything about him.

But…

He had fallen inlove too.

“Oh my god! That’s not-“ You looked at the boy next to you, absolutely falling more inlove the more you looked. Having by far the funniest conversation all summer.

“Oh, please! That’s seriously what I told him!” He laughed, his body leaning on yours, his head halfway into your lap.

“Kayce, your such an idiot.” You looked down at him, his eyes already trained on you. Your chuckle had died in your throat as you saw the look in his eyes. He’s never looked at you like this before—you didn’t see the other times he had. Those moments were just for him.

Your hand landed on his forehead, sliding it back over the expanse of his scalp, his long hair following the pattern your hand tread on his head.

“Oh, yeah?” He said. His signature small smile already creasing the corners of his lips. “I’m okay with that. You still love me, though.”

You looked up at the sky, the stars illuminating your features, entrancing the teenager below you. He was looking at you as if you had hung them yourself. “The sky is beautiful tonight, Kayce. Don’t you think?” Your eyes following and connecting the dots in the sky as his eyes never once dared to move away from you.

“I do. She’s absolutely gorgeous.” In a quick second, he started to sit up, his absence from your lap, drawing your eyes down to him.

Your eyes caught his, as he immediately pulled you into a kiss. His hand on your cheek, your hand tipping his hat off his head, carding your fingers through the growing locks of golden brown locks.

This was just the start.

You knew now was different than when you both were just 16. You had spent two years with eachother, loving eachother. You didn’t think anything would tear you apart.

Kayce had started disobeying Mr. Dutton when you two had just turned 18. Something about them always butting heads and having different life plans. Kayce didn’t want this life, he wanted you, but not at the price John had been setting.

It was either you and the Ranch, or he’d be gone and forbidden to see you. You knew it was a crock of shit, John just trying to scare his son. And you had believed it. You should’ve known the youngest Dutton. Especially now that the behavior was super out of character.

You walked the rocky path up to the main house, on the Dutton Ranch, collecting the smallest size pebbles you could find to throw at Kayce’s window.

You approached the front of the house, stopping before the porch steps and launched pebble after pebble. You had gone through the whole collection and then some. He would come to the window by now, you thought.

He wasn’t asleep, his light was on. Then you heard yelling and screaming, crashing and smashing. You had saw a small glimpse of Kayce and John, and you had heard Lee, you think.

Then you heard nothing. Just saw John’s face in the window, looking down at you as he shut the blinds. You had started on your walk back home, worried sick, right down the road from the ranch before you heard the front door swing open, John dragging Kayce by the collar of his shirt.

They ended up behind the barn, you watching from a healthy distance to not be seen by Mr. Dutton, before you saw a burning orange ‘Y’ iron. The sound of burning flesh and muffled cries and screaming followed.

You obviously didn’t see Kayce that night but you had saw him two days after, breaking a horse.

You stood up on the bottom wood log of the arena with your arms draped over the top one. “Where have you been, baby?” Your boyfriend just looked up at you. A heartbreaking attempt at a smile casted over his beautiful face.

“Talk to me, Kayc. Is everything okay?” You knew it wasn’t. You knew what you saw, not expecting that from John.

“I’m fine, darlin.’ Don’t worry your pretty little head too much, yeah?” He looked back to the horse, grabbing the reigns and walking him through the exit of the arena, signaling you to follow him to the barn.

You didn’t want to pry, you knew he wasn’t okay but you’d let him tell you about it when he was ready. You knew Kayce would.

“Okay, handsome. You doin’ anythin’ later.” You tucked a small strand of hair behind his ear, fixing his hat that’s shifted.

“Nah, you wanna come over? Watch a movie?” He asked. You smiled at him and nodded your head. You leaned in for a kiss and turned your heel.

“I’ll see you later, cowboy.” You looked over your shoulder, Kayce eyes trailing up your body, his eyes eventually meeting yours. “You like what you see, Kayce?” You laughed as you were almost out of line of sight.

“Hell yeah, I do, baby.” His smirk as he watched you, slowly dissipating. He was dreading the moment he had to tell you. He had to do it soon, tomorrow.

That was yesterday.

Your movie had gone great but you should have known then there was problem. He seemed on edge that night, and his room seemed a little less lively since the last time you had been in there.

You walked up to the main house, opening the front door. John wasn’t home so Kayce said you could walk through the house and to his room.

That’s when you saw it. His shit packed and loaded into duffle bags. He packed his whole life away in bags. “What’s goin’ on Kayce? Why are you packing?” Your eyes wandered around the room. His dresser now vacant of any picture you two had, of him and Lee. His favorite picture of him and Beth now gone.

“Everything’s okay, baby. I promise.”

“Then why’s your shit all gone? Where are you going?” You couldn’t help the dampness growing in the corner of your eyes. The small quiver in your lip.

“Hey, hey. Don’t cry. It’s gonna be okay.” He cupped your face, forcing you to look him in the eyes. His eyes meeting yours, both damp and a little bloodshot like yours. “I just gotta go for a while, okay?”

“And your just gonna leave me here? Take me with you.” You pleaded. You didn’t think today of all days would start with Kayce Dutton possibly breaking up with you, and leaving you alone in this godforsaken state of Montana.

“I can’t, baby. Not where i’m goin’. Not this time.” He kissed your forehead and shifted his hands from your face to your waist.

“Kayce, where the hell are you going that you can’t take me with you? We haven’t separated since we were kids, why now?” You wiped the tears that fell from your eyes as you couldn’t dare tear them away from Kayce.

“I’m goin’ into the Navy. I don’t know when i’ll be back. But you have to listen to me-“

“The fuckin’ Navy!? Kayce are you serious!?” You yelled at him. He never once mentioned the Navy or any interest. It must’ve been John’s idea. They have been fighting more and more recently.

You thought it had been just father and son disagreements. But the thought should’ve clicked when the iron branded his son, your bestfriend, boyfriend, forever.

He belonged to his father. He had to do whatever he asked. It had to be John. You were pissed. “Was it John?” You whispered.

“No, sweetheart. It was me. I can’t take this ranch anymore, I feel trapped. All I do is eat, ranchwork, eat, ranchwork, sleep, repeat. I can’t do it anymore, baby. The Navy would atleast set me up with some cash so I could find a place of my own.” He sniffled as he held you, you stepping away from him to pace around the room.

It was his decision…he was leaving you.

He wiped his eyes, and in all the years that you had known Kayce Dutton and held him when he was sad, because he had done it for you, you haven’t seen him this torn up and emotional about something since his mother’s passing.

“But does that mean you can’t handle me anymore? I mean if your tired of the ranch, you must be tired of me, right?” You let a choked sob escape your lips. Stopping in your tracks, your legs feeling too wobbly to move another inch.

He immediately rushed to you, embracing you into the tightest hugs he’s possibly ever given you. “No, no, baby. That’s not it. I love you, with everythin’ in me, you know that. But-“

“But what? If your breaking up with me Kayce, don’t you dare think about saying goodbye as if we’ll never speak again. They’re always the hardest and i’m not doing that with you. I do not want to say goodbye to you. Ever.”

“Baby, you know I have to.” His big eyes even frowned with his face. The sad expression crushing you even more than humanly possible.

“No, you don’t! Why can’t you just love me from over there. It shouldn’t be any different, baby.” You grabbed his face. His eyes closing for a fleeting moment. Your cries getting harder and harder to bear quietly.

“Darlin’, I can’t ask you to wait for me in hopes i’ll make it home to you. I can’t ask that of you, and you know I can’t.” He inhaled a shaken breath, evident that this was hurting him as much as it was hurting you.

“Yes you can. You know that. I’d wait a million years and more for you, Kayce Dutton. I waited 16 years, didn’t I?” You laughed quietly, that didn’t hide the audible sob that also parted your lips.

“Godammit, sweetheart. I love you, nothin’ can change that. I’d die for you, i’d do anything for you, i’d go to the very ends of the earth for you, but please for the love of god; please stop making it harder to leave you than it already is.” Tears freely streamed down his face, him not bothering to wipe them away.

He was giving himself to you. All of him, and you couldn’t have asked for more from this man. He has always done this for you. He’s never hidden who he was, especially from you.

As you held his face, you sighed. His hand holding your hips, you could feel his fingers shaking on you. He didn’t want to go. If he was ever gonna leave he was damn sure gonna take you with him. This wasn’t how he wanted it to be.

“Kayce Dutton, I love you. More than you’ll ever know and i’ll spend my whole life showing you. I’d do anything for you, all you have to do is say what. Ask me to wait for you, and i’d wait for you.” As soon the words “ask me to wait” rolled off your lips, Kayce had his answer.

“Wait for me.”

You crashed your lips onto his, the kiss fast paced and full of emotion. The devotion his body poured unto you was otherworldly. You two stumbled back a bit from the force of the kiss. Your tongue meeting his in frantic greeting as you held onto him for dear life, and he held onto you like you were his lifeline.

As you both understood what this meant, what you two were signing up for, you knew now that there was no chance either one of you would be ripped away from the other. No fucken chance.

“I’ll wait for you. When you get back, i’ll be waiting here, you know exactly where to find me, cowboy.” You kissed his lips once again, and smiled, your arm around his shoulder and one hand on his face. His arms wrapped comepletely around your waist.

“I can’t wait, baby.” He kissed you once more and that was it.

You’d be here when he got back. He was going to come back to you. Whether he had to kill or crawl his way back to you, he was going to come home.

And you’d be right there, with open arms waiting. Just like you promised.

#tumblrpost #writers on tumblr #fluff #light angst #angst with a happy ending #kayce dutton yellowstone #kayce dutton x reader #kayce dutton #kayce dutton imagine #kayce dutton headcannon #yellowstone #yellowstone x reader #yellowstone x kayce dutton x reader #i love this man #i want him #i need him to ruin me #bye i love him #hot cowboy

[gutterfuuck]

Human!Mark with a Super-powered/Viltrumite!Reader

It’s cute he’s so possessive, as if we wouldn’t break him like a twig... 🙈

THISSSS this is incredible!! i am going crazy!!

i love this idea so much,, perhaps reader is an child of thragg. i am now putting my little headcanon in where i think that mark would have glasses and braces… real nerdy guy x girl that is only gentle with him… cute dynamic hehe!!

this is sfw since im writing a full fic currently, just some headcanons maybe to get the concept out there!! the fic will be called “the perfect girl”

cw: nothing really, as i have stated this is short, maybe a blurb? i am not sure haha,

the youngest viltrumite to be sent to conquer a planet. you’re sent to earth to take over another viltrumite’s mission that was supposedly cut short due to his untimely death. as soon as you burst onto the scene you’d had everyone’s attention; splattering kaijus like they were bugs, stopping criminals with your presence alone, saving those who were weaker, more susceptible to danger. you’re quick to rise as a favourite of the public, surpassing even the guardians in popularity.

mark meets you at a comic book signing at a con because of course he does. you’re there because you find humans interesting, that and you’d caught wind of a possible attack incoming at the event. you doubted they’d actually come along seeing as you’d made your presence known and you weren’t too kind with your beatdowns. you’d never admit it, but you found this type of media entertaining, the stories would interest you. even though you were a viltrumite, there wasn’t any law that said you couldn’t have a little bit of fun. (you also somewhat enjoyed the fame and the fanbases that had cultivated around you since you decided you didn’t need a superhero name, your name was good enough)

brown eyes stare at you through thick framed glasses, sparkling with interest and recognition, a goofy braced sideways smile forming on his face. you raised an eyebrow, arms crossed over your chest as you stared dead into his eyes. mark almost dropped the stacks of comic books he held in his arms, you were ethereal. he’d seen you on tv, you were all over the newsfeeds sometimes so you were hard to avoid. he thought you were beautiful before, thought you looked like an angel now. other people had gotten pictures with you earlier so he was sure there wouldn’t be a problem if he asked.

he got his picture but you had gotten his number, watched him walk away with pink cheeks, caught in a sort of daze. mark felt so comfortable to you, so… familiar..? maybe all humans weren’t so bad, mark was proof of that.

when you’d come over for dinner with his family one night, you’d finally worked out why. you’d never met nolan, but had heard stories about him growing up on viltrum. he’d been priming the planet for invasion but had been killed which put a cap on things until your arrival about two and a half years ago after you’d proved yourself worthy. you had the shock of your life when you sat at the table and squinted at your boyfriend’s father, heart dropping when you connected the dots. you and mark had been together for months now, you’d know if he was a viltrumite… had the great nolan faked his own death and fathered an offspring with no powers? you almost scoffed at the irony. what a tired and cowardly old man, the karma of having a child with no abilities must have been damning enough. you thought about you and mark’s potential future children and a warmth washed over you, the same warmth that made you feel all gooey and sickly sweet inside.

“tell me about your planet.” he’d say, resting his head on your shoulder as you watched the stars together, “ah, viltrum… haven’t you heard of it before?” you questioned, head tilted into his. you couldn’t wait to report back in a few years, couldn’t wait to tell everyone about how you’d found nolan and he hadn’t been killed… but mark would’ve been heartbroken. you couldn’t do that to him, not yet at least, it seemed cruel. plus, he had no idea what a viltrumite was, though your pride as a viltrumite felt attacked as you’d figured his father hadn’t even mentioned mark’s background to him.

you told tall tales about how you’d created the best civilisation, how your kind helped other planets and those less fortunate… you’d tell him the truth eventually, you’d have to seeing as you wanted to keep mark for as long as human lifespans allowed you to. he would open his mouth and his eyes would widen in awe, saying something about how you were like a character from his comic books which made you nod in turn, the conversation slowly changing to the subject of the comic book he’d been talking about. before you met mark, you would’ve probably never been able to experience life in such a human way. before it felt as if you had no sense of individuality, now it felt like you couldn’t stop being yourself even if it was a little alien to you.

#💬 sparkie is typing… #mark grayson x reader #invincible x reader #fem reader #viltrumite!reader #💬🙈cheekiechops anon is typing…

[leilani-lily]

~Oh Deer~ (Chapter 1)

... So this idea for an Alastor x reader (kinda?) story popped in my brain, and has refused to leave me no matter how hard I try.

Have I written fanfiction recently? Hell no.

Do I even know how to write for an AroAce character? No but I'm gonna do my damndest to represent him properly (and also relying on outer sources so I'm not offending anyone).

Do I feel like a complete fool for being sucked back into the fanfiction world and re-entering with a freakin Hazbin Hotel fic? ABSOOOO-FREAKIN-LUTELY.

But here we are. The writing gods have spoken. And they have declared that I write this story out so my poor brain can focus on other things like work.

Figured I'd share so it's just not on my computer all lonely. Will be a slow burn so fair warning. Let's be real, the deer boi needs love. But not overly romantic love. Just, someone he ends up really caring about and becoming his favourite.

SYNOPSIS: AroAce! Alastor x Chef!Singer! Reader. The hotel is looking to hire a chef to prepare meals for the staff/guests. Somehow you're hired and you begin your new life. And somehow end up becoming close to a certain Radio Demon. Word Count: 1.8 K

Chapter 1 under the cut. Enjoy I guess? ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Ok, deep breaths y/n. Remember to smile.

You felt your lips curl up into a strained grin as if to fight off the nerves in your chest, your grip tightening on the flyer in your fist. This could go either two ways. One, you get the job and are able to live a life of somewhat normality. Or two, you get hung from the tippy top of the building by your own intestines. With your legs chopped off. And one of your arms sticking out of your ass.

Gotta love Hell and it’s creative subjects.

You shake your head out of those terrible thoughts, surely it wouldn’t be that bad?? When you saw the original broadcast on the 666 News, you couldn’t stop thinking how nice the Princess of Hell actually was. And building an entire hotel to help her subjects reform into something better was, perhaps a little optimistic in your opinion, but it made you admire her gumption and her love for her subjects.

So later when you found the flyer in search of a chef at the very same establishment the princess was hoping to fill… well, it somehow managed to get you all the way here. Standing at the doorsteps of the very lonely looking hotel on the hill. 

You had to admit it wasn’t the look you had imagined, but hey, this was Hell. You had seen worse. And everyone has to start somewhere. Including yourself, arm still poised ready to knock yet not yet making the motion.

You felt so stupid, you had been standing here for almost 10 minutes now just trying to get the courage to enter the damn building. You sigh to yourself and shake out the jitters. Alright, let’s just do this. Once again, you smile, puff out your chest and raise your arm high in the air, ready to strike with a newfound courage.

“Well folks, looks like the little lady is finally ready to take the leap! Will she follow through with her actions? Or will she choke and back out of the fight? Let’s tune in and find out~”

You felt your heart nearly leap out of your chest as you whip your head around to look behind you. A tall demon clad in red and ruby eyes stood behind you, a wickedly wide grin filling his face as he points what appears to be a microphone in your direction. You stare at it dumbly, then make eye contact with him again. He remains poised, half lidded eyes seeming to hold a sparkle of impish joy. His eyes flicker from you, to your raised arm, and back to you. After a embarrassingly long time of connecting the dots, you finally extend your arm closer to the door, never breaking focus on the demon behind you (you can't help but notice he raises his microphone even closer to you), and give the door a good solid knock.

“AND SHE’S DONE IT FOLKS, what a display!!” He pulls the microphone back to himself, as you continue to stare dumbfounded “The form, the elegance, it could almost make a grown Imp cry. Let's give her a hand people.” He begins to clap as a roar of applause plays from… somewhere.

You couldn’t tell if this guy was being sarcastic or genuine, but the whole absurdity of it all, plus the bundle of nerves you were feeling earlier, seemed to bubble up inside of you and you couldn't help a little snort escape. The red demon’s grin widened as he ceases his clapping, stepping closer to you as you continue to giggle.

“Ahhh now isn’t that better. A much nicer smile than the one you were faking earlier. Besides, there’s no need to be so shy my dear. This hotel is always happy to accept wayward demons looking for reformation!”

Upon hearing his words, you turn to face him and put your hands up “Oh nono, I’m not here to-”

“Ohoho~! and what’s this you have here?” Before you can finish your sentence, the tall demon ripped the flyer out of your hand and inspected it quickly, before turning back to you. His half-lidded gaze was now round with surprise, his grin becoming even wider (which you didn’t even think was possible).

“So THAT explains the nerves from before! And here I was just thinking you were a timid little thing. But a business woman! Now that I can admire.” He smiles at you almost impressed and leans in closer, your noses almost touching.

“Tell me my dear, can you make a good jambalaya? Or perhaps a hearty gumbo with cornbread on the side~?”

You were so flustered with the speed of everything happening (plus the close proximity of this demon you had just met certainly didn’t help). All you could manage was a jumbled “Uhh, well yes I-!”

“WONDERFULLLL~!" He straightens up again and you sigh with relief. “I’ll be sure to test you on such skills. But for now we should-”

The front doors of the hotel suddenly burst open and a short gray female stands before you, with long silvery hair and an eyepatch. She looks at you for a moment, before turning her gaze at the red demon and giving him a scowl.

“Alastor, what the HELL took you so long, you should’ve been back ages ago. And quit creeping out new potential clients.” Her gaze adverts back to you, expression softening ever so slightly, “Seriously, if he’s bothering you-” “Oh Vaggie my dear, no need to be so hostile. I was simply going over business with our newest chef!” he brings his long fingers up behind your shoulder and pulls you in close against his chest, making you yelp a moment before regaining composure. You could sense this so-called 'Vaggie' demon tense, eyes flickering between the two of you. You felt as if your brain was sputtering to catch up with the current conversation (he WORKS here??!)  before finally realizing what he had just called you. You sneak a look at him, and he gives you a quick wink before focusing back on the female before him. 

“Now be a doll and have Nifty tidy up one of the rooms, preferably one of a reasonable size and close to the kitchen. And call upon Charlie as well, she’ll DEFINITELY want to meet our newest addition!”

The female in front of you shot a glare at Alastor (you quickly noted these two did not seem to get along), but then flicked her gaze back at you. After a moment, she sighed and turned back into the building as she followed the male demon’s orders. You couldn’t help but notice how Alastor’s grip on you tightened ever so slightly as a chuckle escaped his lips, static humming ever so louder in amusement. He himself began to walk into the hotel, guiding you along with him.

"Now then. We’ll have to introduce you to everyone, as well as get you to fill in the proper paperwork, give you a proper tour of the place and-!”

“Wait wait,” you stop walking, causing him to halt. You notice a slight twitch in his eye and his hand squeezes you for a moment. He doesn’t like to be interrupted, duly noted. You take a breath.

“Sorry, uh for interrupting” That seemed to please him. “But does this mean… I got the job?? You don’t need a resume or a test or…?”

Alastor let out a guffaw of amusement “Why of course my dear! As long as you remain true to your word of being able to cook a good New Orleans dish, that’s all the proof I’ll need! There hasn’t been many a demon coming here interested in the job, so I say your timing couldn’t be more perfect!”

Well that was the easiest damn interview you’ve ever done. You felt yourself exhale a sigh of relief as you smile up to the tall demon. 

“Wow, that’s… that’s amazing, thank you so much.” He gave you a half lidded smirk, clearly enjoying being praised “So… does this make you my boss, Mr…?” 

You heard the sound of a record screech as his eyes widened in surprise. Hand finally leaving your shoulder and placing it on his own chest he began to laugh heartilly, a laugh track playing in the background. You stood there confused for a moment before he finally responded.

“Ohhh my goodness me, my mother would be rolling in her grave if she ever heard about this. How rude of me to be so forward without properly introducing myself!” One minute he was standing right beside you, and then the next he had sunken like a shadow into the floor, only to appear in front of you a few steps ahead. With grace and suave you didn’t realize he possessed, he gave a small hand flourish before bowing in front of you.

“I am Alastor, also known as the Radio Demon. I happen to be the Hotel’s Facility Manager, but you’ll find Miss Morningstar is the real ringleader around here,” You notice the corner of his lip twitch at that last remark, but you pay no mind to it. “If you ever have any questions or concerns, do not hesitate to reach out to me.” You smile and dip yourself in your own little curtsy as he straightens up.

“My name is y/n, and I’ll be sure to do my best to serve you and this hotel, sir.” Alastor seemed to hum with approval as he looks down at you. “I guess I just have one more question for you, if that’s alright.” 

“Why of course dear y/n, whatever would it be?”

“Well, I uh…” You feel yourself becoming flustered at the question, and the radio demon seemed to notice. Cocking a head to the side, he takes a step forward, opening his arms into a friendly gesture.

“Come now dearest, you can ask me anything! If we’re going to be working together, we have to be honest with each other~” You look up at him and sigh, knowing he was right. With a gulp you straighten your back and wear a serious expression.

“How long did you see me standing by the door?” 

Alastors face didn’t waver, it was hard to tell what was going on in his mind. Then his smile grew into what looked like an amused, smug expression before answering.

“The whole time.”

You groaned and felt your head slap against your hand, making Alastor burst into laughter yet again at your expense. He was there watching the entire time?? Satan’s Ass you felt like such an idiot. Was he waiting for you to move so he could get in the building?? The more you thought about it the more you wanted to sink into the floor and die, for a 2nd time. The radio demon wiped a stray tear from his eye.

“Ohhhh y/n, what a riot you are. I can already tell that this is going to be fun~”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

First chapter hoorayyy ♡〜٩( ˃▿˂ )۶〜♡ Not sure how often I'll be updating, hopefully soon as I'm currently inspired. Thanks for reading thus far!FIRST (You're here!) PREVIOUS (Doesn't exist ( • ᴗ - ) ✧) NEXT

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #oh deer #leilani-lily

[multifandomfanfic]

you should totally do a messi x daughter fanfic. One where she is in a relationship with Kylian Mbappe’s brother, Ethan Mbappe.

I love you writing btw. it’s awesome. Keep the good work!

A/N: So about this request--seeing as Ethan Mbappe is underage, I'm uncomfortable writing something for him. I'll do the fic with Kylian Mbappe instead, but I'm sorry, I won't do Ethan seeing as he's 16 and barely even legal in France.

I also combined it with this request: "will u make a fan fiction about Messi x daughter in which the daughter is an actress and they all go to a, premiere or an award show where she is nominated (and she wins), with her. Also an after party part will be good!"

Face claim for most photos: Haley Lu Richardson

Messi x daughter!actress!reader (also Mbappe x reader)

yourusername

liked by leomessi, sydney_sweeney, dannyramirez, and 3,328,498 others

yourusername: tiempo familiar, pt. 1

monicabarbaro: this movie better be good if you dyed your hair for it 😭

yourusername: i promise its worth the wait!! chrishemsworth: I can attest to that!

leomessi: Te ves hermosa, cariño! (translated from Spanish: "You look beautiful, sweetie!")

comment liked by antonelaroccuzzo and yourusername yourusername: gracias papa🥺 antonelaroccuzzo: 💕💕💕

neymarjr: obrigado por vir ao jogo, y/n, foi bom ver você de novo! (translated from Portuguese: "thanks for coming to the match, y/n, it was good to see you again!")

yourusername: you too! ❤️ user307: 👀

fanaccount1: how is she so pretty as a blonde and brunette???? she's so lucky

user203: she's literally anto roccuzzo's daughter be fr

user892: my favorite nepo baby

yourusername added to their story

celebritygossip

liked by pierregasly, ethanmbappe, and 837,238 others

celebritygossip: The first photo was posted on @yourusername;s story yesterday morning. The second one was posted by @k.mbappe just hours afterwards. Coincidence? We think not.

user487: i'm not sold at all but i'm glad it's not (possibly) neymar. i was not for the whole age-gap, dad's best friend thing.

fanaccount2: Totally agree. user008: me three, but we really shouldn't have any opinions on who y/n dates. we don't know her. fanaccount3: no one asked you to act all high and mighty.

user918: Y/N could have any man in the world and she choses someone who looks like a teenage mutant ninja turtle.

fanaccount4: She said we'll find out eventually, maybe this is it??

user773: i don't think she meant some random gossip account 'connecting the dots.' we still have to wait

yourusername

liked by leomessi, k.mbappe, glenpowell, and 2,385,019 others

yourusername: "Figures and Strangers" has officially ended production. I would like to thank everyone who I've worked with on this project; you have made every moment of this past year special, and I will remember our time together for the rest of my life.

"Figures and Strangers" is about family, love, and perseverance in the midst of hard times. While I may not have had hard times, the other themes of this movie pertained to my life when I auditioned:

Without my family's unwavering support and direction, I would not be where I am today; seriously, without my father, I wouldn't have been tipped off about Spielberg shooting his first film in Paris, and I would not be typing this today.

A year ago, I had gone on one date with the man I now call my love. Since that day, he has been with me through thick and thin: from nights spent crying over hard-to-memorize lines, to entire weeks when I was hardly home. He saw me through my highs in lows, through enjoying life then doubting every choice I've ever made. Honestly, I believe he's more love and understanding than man. I would have never known the man my father introduced me to would be such a blessing, but I am so glad to call him mine.

And, finally, perseverance: when I heard about this movie, I was still struggling with the notion that all I would ever be was my dad's child. I love my dad with all my heart and all my soul, but seeing myself called "Lionel Messi's daughter" instead of "Y/N Messi" in headlines about my own accomplishments damaged my self-esteem (not to mention all the "nepo baby" comments--yes, I read all of those). Yet, all of this motivated me to work even harder and persevere, as my character in "Figures and Strangers" does. I am glad to say that I am happy with where I stand right now, and I have made myself proud.

Anyways, to wrap this up, I'll quote the ever so wise Winnie the Pooh by saying how lucky I am having something that makes saying goodbye so hard. I am eternally grateful for everything that has happened in the past year because of "Figures and Strangers," and how it has transformed me as a person.

Thank you all again, and I'll see you in the movies.

~ Y/N Messi

leomessi: También nos has hecho sentir orgullosas, Y/N. (translated from Spanish: "You have also made us proud, Y/N.")

yourusername: muchas gracias, papá. te amo más de lo que sabes. ("thank you very much, dad. i love you more than you know.") comment liked by leomessi and antonellaroccuzzo

zoeisabellakravitz: Best Actress nom when

evanpetes: can't wait to see it!

psg: All of us are so happy for you!

comment liked by yourusername, k.mbappe, neymarjr, and leomessi

masonmount: seriously, y/n, congrats on everything. you deserve all the awards.

yourusername: ❤️❤️❤️ fanaccount5: guys???

k.mbappe

liked by celebritygossip, yourusername, chloegmoretz, and 3,389,291 others

k.mbappe: 🖤🤍

tagged: yourusername

chrishemsworth: Had a fun premiere with you both! Here's to more success yet to come!

comment liked by anyataylorjoy, jayrellis, and k.mbappe yourusername: you too!!

antonelaroccuzzo: You look stunning, sweetie 💕

yourusername: thank you mom 🥺🥺

fanaccount6: WOAH WOAH WOAH WOAH WOAH

user940: how did we NOT see this coming it makes so much sense yourusername: i told you you'd find out eventually 😉

fanaccount7: they're so perfect omg????

user038: my wife and husband

leomessi

liked by yourusername, cmpulisic, leonardodicaprio, and 7,289,064 others

leomessi: (translated from Spanish) I couldn't be more proud of my daughter tonight. I remember the little plays you used to put on with your cousins and brothers, and today I watched you walk across the Oscars' stage to accept the Best Actress award. All of your hard work and dedication has paid off, and you've truly made a name for yourself. Congratulations on everything you've done and will accomplish in the future. I love you very much.

tagged: yourusername

yourusername: i'm going to cry dad! i love you too!

antonelaroccuzzo: We're both thrilled for you, Y/N. You've exceeded our expectations and turned into an incredible young woman.

yourusername: thanks mom!

k.mbappe: proud to call you mine💕

comment liked by yourusername leomessi: Take care of her!

yourusername

liked by k.mbappe, keleighteller, antonelaroccuzzo, and 3,510,389 others

yourusername: can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you

tagged: k.mbappe

k.mbappe: mon amour ❤️

leomessi: The best daughter and son-in-law a man could ask for.

comments on this post have been limited

#messi x reader #leo messi x reader #lionel messi x reader #messi #leo messi #lionel messi #messi insta au #leo messi insta au #messi x you #leo messi x you #mbappe x reader #mbappe x you #kylian mbappe x reader #kylian mbappe x you #mbappe insta au #kylian mbappe insta au #messi!reader #messi x daughter #leo messi x daughter #mbappe #kylian mbappe #insta au #instagram au #soccer fanfic #psg #x reader #x you #x y/n #football fanfic #futball fanfic

[develop-your-oc]

Your blog has been so helpful with my oc developing journey! Thank you for putting so much time into collecting resources and the like! I did have a question, if you wouldn't mind answering, but how do you use Obsidian for sorting/recording your oc data? It's a little daunting and I've found myself constantly going over the info and trying to format everything. It's maddening. Thank you again for your hard work and time! <3

It's awesome that you've found this blog to be helpful! Thank you so much for telling me! 💖 (it ain't much but it's honest work dot jpeg)

Obsidian as a program is daunting especially if you're not familiar with similar applications (OneNote, Evernote, Joplin, etc.), but somehow I have completely forgotten how frustrating it was to get started from a blank page, even though I spent years struggling with that frustration. Here's a basic rundown of what I do!

Folders and basic setup are as follows:

Within one vault, I use multiple folders. One folder contains my templates, lists and other data, prompts, and so on. There are individual files for each original setting within this folder in order to take quick notes to be sorted later or keep reminders. Other files in this folder include ideas for future character names and other writing ideas.

Each setting has its own folder where everything related to it is stored, with OCs being the star of the show at the top level. There are several subfolders filled with notes, completed prompts, drabbles, lore, codex entries, etc.

One of the subfolders is for files regarding characters that my OCs interact with but aren't mine (a roleplay partner's OC, a game NPC, etc.) to store notes and other useful information for later reference, like a wiki page built only for myself.

As for the OCs themselves:

Each OC has its own file within the folder of their setting where a template holds their information. This template is vague enough to be useful in most settings, and simple enough to allow editing as needed.

The template begins as a simple formatted list of basics as you would expect (identity, appearance, occupation, etc.), as well as likes, dislikes, hobbies, skills, virtues, and flaws.

All friends, family, lovers, and so on are listed with a very brief description of how they are connected to my OC.

There are sections beneath the list for all the substantial information. — Background: everything from before their story begins. From before the arrival of you, the creator, if that makes sense. — Going Forward: from the beginning of their story, to the end (if there is one), and into the future beyond that. — Trivia: tidbits of information and facts that don't fit anywhere else. — Timeline: a chronological list with dates and concise details. Additional information is sorted into one of the other sections, the destination based on where the information would be most relevant. — Relationships: important relationships are detailed here. — Notes: the anything goes catch-all. Less about the character and more about you, like a reminder ("name their childhood pet!") or something worth noting ("my first OC!").

If the character is still in its concept phase, I stick to bullet point notes and update with the template later as needed.

Other things I'd like to mention:

There's more functionality within Obsidian than what I use, but I'm happy with my methods for now.

I make heavy use of bullet points, tab indents, and the little arrow that pops up to open or close lengthy sections as needed.

I never fill out the entire template at once, or ever; some sections remain empty permanently and some characters remain bullet points. It is what it is!

I keep the files for all the OCs that are currently rotting my brain open in tabs at the top! 🥰

Sometimes a folder is a genre and is instead used for multiple settings, such as all my OCs from the various farming simulation games I play sharing the same folder.

Relationships can sometimes be easier as their own page, particularly if it involves more than two characters, such as families and their dynamics.

This is a brief description of how I do things for myself. This works for me, but may not work for you. I tend to make up a bunch of silly little rules for myself, so please take this as inspiration rather than instruction. If this is confusing or you would like more help, anon, please DM me again and I'll work on visual examples and better explanations. Thanks again, and I hope this helps!

#answer #uhhhh #does this make ANY sense idk 😳 #untagged

[purplehairedwonder]

Chapter 1086: Connecting the Dots

It’s been a few chapters since my last write-up, but I couldn’t resist the lore of this chapter.

First things first: the cover page is absolutely adorable.

I especially love Luffy’s and Chopper’s reflections in the puddle. So cute.

Okay, onto the chapter itself. Reverie comes to an end with most attendees none of the wiser of the malicious goings on right under their noses.

We see various parties getting away from Mariejois by stowing away. This panel hit me particularly hard:

Sabo is visibly broken up about witnessing Cobra’s death, which is at odds with his reaction back in chapter 1083:

Honestly, it’s a relief to see that Sabo was affected by Cobra’s death since he seems so cold talking about the death of someone both the Revs and audiences knew to be a good man. 

Speaking of Sabo, the Gorosei’s discussion about him is quite interesting.

They use the phrase “checkered fate,” which we’ve seen used repeatedly to describe those who carry the D, including

and

It also feels related to the flashback in 1085:

Sabo seems to be influenced by the Will of D. as much as any of the Ds that surround him.

Meanwhile, Imu orders the destruction of Lulusia using a Vegapunk invention called Mother Flame. 

This is interesting because we saw in the MADS cover story how Vegapunk was focused on peaceful inventions. He talks about creating an energy source that will be accessible to everyone--thus eliminating conflicts over natural resources.

Perhaps Mother Flame is the result of that research. 

Many of us theorized that Uranus was used to wipe out Lulusia, but Dragon argues that if the WG had an Ancient Weapon, why wait until now to use it?

What if, like the mecha that is defunct in Egghead, Uranus needed a power source? And Vegapunk’s research into energy allowed them to finally power up the Ancient Weapon?

That would also fit the parallels between Vegapunk and Einstein, as Einstein’s work laid the foundation for the creation of nuclear weapons despite his pacifist tendencies.

So, Imu orders the destruction of Lulusia because it’s nearby, and the other Gorosei are... fine with it. They even try to justify it.

It’s cold and cruel.

We also get names and see the planet theme continuing with Jupiter, Venus, Mercury, Mars, and Saturn from left to right. Interesting that they are also called “Warrior Gods.”

Imu is also focused on retrieving Vivi, who we now know is a D.

What does Imu want with Vivi specifically? Mysteries to chew on!

Meanwhile, MORE SEPAPHIM.

Finally, the Doffyphim! Crocophim looks almost sad, which is interesting.

So, we’ve seen Seraphim for all the original Warlords, right? So, are we getting them for any of the others? Blackbeard? Law? Buggy? Weevil? Honestly, I’ll be very surprised if we don’t see a Law Seraphim since Law’s not allowed to have nice things and the importance of the Ope Ope no Mi is directly referenced in this chapter.

We get a bit more insight into Imu thanks to Iva:

Which ties back to Cobra saying he recognized the name. Now we have a family name: Nerona. My first thought was Nero, who was Emperor of Rome at the time of the Great Fire of Rome, which destroyed a large portion of the city. (Remember, Vegapunk’s potential energy source was called Mother Flame.)

Iva’s line about “the world we know today was created 800 years ago” brings me back to this panel from earlier in the chapter:

Particularly Mars’ comment in the middle about “The world moves at the will of the creator.” This seems to imply that Imu was one of the founders of the World Government--making him a creator of the world as we know it today.

Of course, that leads to the question of how he could be alive for 800 years. Iva’s out there like

connecting all the dots like the rest of us.

It’s long been theorized that there had to be someone in the series who had the Perpetual Youth Surgery performed on them, and Imu seems to be the best candidate. 

There have actually been multiple mentions of the immortality operation recently, as if to remind us that Law’s fruit can do that. Remember what Blackbeard said after defeating Law? 

So yes, the fact that Law got away from this encounter matters because a) he’s a D., and b) his fruit is coming into play again.

So, theory time. I know a lot of people worry about Law using the Perpetual Youth Surgery on Luffy, but I don’t think that will happen; among many reasons, Luffy wouldn’t want it, even if Law offered. 

However, if Imu has had that surgery and is now immortal, there needs to be a way to defeat him. What better way than the current user of the Ope Ope no Mi reversing the operation and making him mortal again?

Okay, this has gone way longer than I planned, so final thing:

So, this is interesting considering what we learned about Shanks from Film Red and its accompanying media. Shanks, we’re led to believe, is a Figarland, so this is likely a relative--father? Grandfather? Uncle? (Also, the hair that looks like a crescent moon? Amazing.)

Moreover, he is the former king of God Valley, which is where Roger’s crew found baby Shanks in a chest and adopted him. That God Valley flashback is going to be mind-blowing, isn’t it?

It’s also noteworthy that Figarland says, “Anyone who protects scum is lower than the scum they protect” while Shanks has a notoriously weak fleet because he protects them.

Finally, RIP Mjosgard. It’s sad that he was able to better himself and ended up executed as a result of those morals.

#One Piece #One Piece 1086 #One Piece chapter 1086 #One Piece spoilers #One Piece chapter 1086 spoilers #Sabo #Monkey D. Dragon #Emporio Ivankov #Trafalgar Law #Nefertari Vivi #Imu #Shanks #Celestial Dragons #Chapter write-up

[originalaccountname]

There are some posts I've seen floating around that at the start Dazai may not of known that Chuuya wasn't a vampire which I kind of agree with. I'm at work currently so I cant double check but when he goes "that's a nasty trick you've pulled fydor" im pretty sure its in his thoughts?? To which why would he think that if he knew the whole time. I think dazai must of caught onto the fact Chuuya was faking it at somepoint but not sure when that would of been. Also at the end of the ep Dazai said he didn't have a plan. (I did watch the episode at just after 2am my time when it came out and then fell asleep afterwards so my memory could be not correct). I do think chuuya not being a vampire at all is a little disappointing tbh but this idea softens the blow. Would like to know your thoughts on this idea if you are open to sharing?

I'm in that category too, yes. I've left a few tags saying basically the same thing on some posts.

First, there are a few things the anime didn't answer (more than failing to justify Chuuya faking it since the start, there's Sigma's case about needing to help the ADA, which... didn't happen at all) so either we haven't seen the repercussions of this arc yet, or we got the shortened version of what the manga will offer. Which could work either way. (not ideal necessarily, but besides huffing what can we do huh)

Dazai not knowing though! Dazai did admit to his "plan" being to mostly adapt on the fly and trust his allies to help him back. He implied this prison break was one big trust fall. But that's how I've always interpreted Dazai's way of planning! I even made a post about it a full year ago!

Since Dazai knows Chuuya slowed down the elevator (which I can accept, Dazai's ability shouldn't affect random objects he touches, and Fyodor had told Chuuya through a comm to go finish off Dazai because he wasn't in the room), I assume that by then he was aware. Maybe not before though. Definitely not at first. Because this?

I refuse to believe was entirely scripted. Why is he acting? For Sigma? For corpses? I'm of the opinion that no matter what is going on through Dazai's head, his expressions are always genuine (ex: he might react with surprise at something he completely expected, if only because of how sudden it was, or when/how it ended up happening. Here? genuine distress.)

And I extend that feeling to Dazai having an emotional moment, complete with flashbacks, while "drowning" Fyodor and Chuuya. He did say he wasn't expecting to kill them that way, but perhaps it really was a moment of weakness triggered by concern or guilt.

I can accept Dazai having caught on during his face-off with Chuuya. That's Mr I-know-your-breathing-patterns we have here, so if they didn't high-five after the elevator crash-landing (still broke Dazai's leg), I would say Dazai knows physics enough to go "hold on" and connect the dots. So yes, that baiting of Chuuya, the light taunting, the bratty attitude he only really has with Chuuya, the angry YELLING and insults when Chuuya shot him in the shoulder? The destiny talk? Yeah I can re-contextualize those as Dazai over-acting his part. And then not being able to shut up after being shot in the head.

Maybe there's some reaching here, maybe this will not be totally accurate to the source material. But Asagiri does have a habit to write scenes from an outsider pov while knowing whats happening in the characters' heads and behind the scene, but then not give us that input directly. Never before today was it confirmed that Dazai improvises a lot in his plans. And yet! That's something I've believed in for a very long time.

This all could very well be covering Asagiri's poor decisions, but between this being the adaptation and bsd being an unfinished story, I have a hard time deciding at the moment how much of a poor decision this was. Maybe it's worth a raised eyebrow. Maybe it deserves some criticism in hope the author takes notes. Maybe this was an anime-original resolution due to time constraints (think of the Fifteen final fight). I can only raise concerns for now, and wait.

#bsd being a monthly release is also detrimental to its pacing #the chapters in the last+ year were very short and suspense-heavy #which makes it look cheaper than if you took a break and read them all in one go #there's a balance in there #i don't know if asagiri really writes with our time perception in mind. maybe he just writes the story and then it's divided in chapters #and that's that. who cares if there's 6 months between those two entries. #bsd #bsd s5 #bsd spoilers #apparently i talk sometimes #ask answered

[wrengrif]

I Am So Tired...

And I am meant to be writing, so I am going to pop this thought out real quick like and get back to it. I have a Romantic Spotify list waiting for me.

*Rubs Face Hard*

I have been rolling this around for about twenty-four hours, since I read @makewayforbigcrossducks post, and while it does not perturb me any less, I gotta say ... yeah. This is really how Aziraphale would play it.

He wouldn't have a plan - Crowley is the one with the multi-level plans. I still believe that is a big reason why he wanted Crowley to come with him, because Crowley can lay out a beautiful plan. It's not the biggest reason (Crowley deserves to be in Heaven), nor is it the best (Aziraphale wants them to be together without being in danger), but Aziraphale knows his own weaknesses. He thinks too much - a emotional and mental response I am sure many of us know too well.

No, what Aziraphale has is the ability to, when he connects the dots, to quickly put together an amazing counter-attack. It takes him So Long because he's doubting himself, doubting the facts, but once he puts everything together, Snap. He has it. We see this with Job. We see this at the end of the world. It may have worked with the ball - but at that point Aziraphale was completely focused on how Crowley would react, and only halfway paying attention to Nina and Maggie. Or, in fact, creepy green lights all over SoHo.

So he's going to Heaven, because there's no better option. That if he doesn't go, if he runs off with Crowley, both of them are going to be killed. And he hasn't got a plan. All he's got is a thread, a thought, and he's going to follow it to the end. This is not smart. This is actually pretty dumb.

This is just all he has.

One in a million chance, to get it right.

And for all he knows, he's doing it all alone.

I don't think he will, though. As hurt as Crowley was, and justly so, Crowley does always come back to do the right thing. Maybe they won't be talking, but they will be working together. Which makes the odds a great deal better in their favor.

Crowley is the key to Aziraphale being able to pull this off. Aziraphale knows it. Now all he has to do is gather the threads, bring them to Crowley, and together ... they can weave something together to stop the Second Coming.

That's the story, after all. Two beings from two different places who act different but at the core, are the same. Who do what's right, even when it costs them everything. Not two sides, one side. Their side.

We just don't know what that side is going to look like. It's gonna be different, I tell you that much. It has to be.

One in a million chance.

#aziraphale #crowley #good omens #good omens meta #i is so tired #if none of this makes sense #then just know tomorrow i'll realize the same thing

[tacobellabeanburrito]

saw your post about the Steel Samurai parallels in fics and was wondering if you had any recommendations :^))

Well Anon, it looks like you’ve come to the right place because have I got the fics for you!

Now, a lot of fics that do this only do this in the sense of “This is a one-off piece of dialogue and a one-off thought about the Steel Samurai being a mirror to Ace Attorney that probably won’t be mentioned again” and only a couple make it a big plot point, so it’s pretty hard to find and remember what fics do this. The ones that I’ve picked for you are the ones that have the most obvious connection with the Steel Samurai and Ace Attorney, I’ll probably update this again if I find more but these are the ones that I can find at the moment.

Sorry if that made no sense, but here you go!

I have organized them into smut/non-smut, multi/one-shot and finished/on-going so you can pick and choose!

(Also, if you need anymore recommendations for Ace Attorney fanfictions, Anon, just ask because I have read MANY and this is only a small-batch)

-

“Written” by Limey

(Smut, Multi-Chapter, Finished)

Was one of the first fanfics I read of Ace Attorney and one of my all-time favorites because of how good it is! It’s about Phoenix accidentally finding Miles’ Steel Samurai fanfiction that’s all based on their dynamics with each other. It’s very popular, so I wouldn’t be surprised if you had read it or heard of it before. But, it does the exact thing I said in my post about having the Steel Samurai be a mirror of Ace Attorney world. Not to mention that it’s just good!

-

“To Dust Or To Gold” by HopeStoryteller

(Non-Smut, Multi-Chapter, Finished)

A fic I have bookmarked and am on chapter 2 of (Mostly because it doesn’t keep my interest long enough) This one is about Miles writing Steel Samurai fanfiction and using his dynamic with Phoenix as a helpful tool to characterize the Steel Samurai and the Evil Magistrate, but it’s written in a way that seems like Miles is actually writing it on A3O (When you click on the link, you’ll see what I mean) the story is told through the comments on the fanfiction he writes, at least from what I can tell. (Again, have not finished it) but it seems very good!

-

“A Beginner’s Guide On How No To Write Steel Samurai Fanfiction” by ChemoeleonWrites

(Non-Smut, Multi-Chaptered, Finished)

A fic about how a court stenographer uses the trials Miles and Phoenix have as inspiration for her Steel Samurai fanfiction and about how Miles reads said fanfiction. This one, personally, was not my cup of tea when I read it. But it is very good. Recommend it fullheartedly!

That’s about all I have for you right now Anon, I’m sorry I can’t help more but it’s very hard to find fics like this (I’ll have to write some myself if more don’t get written) The worst part is that I probably have more fics that do the whole mirror deal thingy but I have so many Ace Attorney bookmarks and I don’t wanna search through all of them at the moment. But I hope I helped anyway!

(You can find a lot though by just looking up “Steel Samurai” On A3O, those were very easy to find so I didn’t put them on here)

Also, here’s a small ficlet that I like, it’s just a one-shot, but I found it cute.

“It’s Three Am And Maya Is Connecting The Dots” by Dumb-Pen-Ren

-> https://archiveofourown.org/works/33148654

#steel samurai #ace attorney #ace attorney fanfiction #ace attorney fanfic #aa fanfic #aa #Phoenix wright #aa fanfiction #miles Edgeworth #Narumitsu #Wrightworth #worthwright #edgewright #THEY HAVE SO MANY SHIP NAMES #the evil magistrate #magisteel #I have a lot of thoughts on the Steel Samurai in the aa universe #like have you guys noticed that there a character called The Crystal Ronin #that’s usually a placeholder for Franziska? #hilarious #because they are also shipped with the pink princess #and maya usually is a placeholder for the pink princess #I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Hey,

I hope that my question/recommendation is not to look for and find because I know how many fics you need to find all the time and your work is incredible but I'm craving for a sterek autumn fic. Something that has like Gilmore girls vibe, something that I can read and drown in the story.

Thanks even if you don't find anything ❤️

I'm not sure how gilmore girls this is (not to mention i live in tx which is hot as balls right now) but I hope you know if you leave, I will follow. Any. Anywhere that you tell me to.

[podfic] How many pumpkins is too many pumpkins? by Nutellargh

Shiver by canistakahari

(1/1 I 1,711 I Teen)

Stiles has really, really cold hands. Luckily, Derek knows just what to do about that.

Like leaves by lanalua

(1/1 I 2,722 I General)

When Stiles moved to Vermont to train as an emissary, he didn't expect to fall quite so hard.

Mr. Hale and the Terrible, No Good, Awful Autumn by bleep0bleep

(1/1 I 5,590 I Teen)

There's a new sheriff in town, and Derek definitely wants to date him. Unfortunately Stiles' son hates Derek's guts.

A Wolf In Autumn by theredhoodie

(1/2 I 7,895 I Teen)

Stiles keeps hearing about a black wolf around campus. It takes him a little longer than it should to connect the dots and realize that it's not just any wolf. It's his ex-boyfriend.

reason to stay by bleep0bleep

(7/7 I 12,564 I Teen)

Life is cruel. Derek Hale is only going to be here in Beacon Hills for a week. Sundays Fun Days is a lie. It was not fun, getting a bit of hope and having it torn away.

How much wooing can Stiles do in a week, anyway?

~ It's the last week of October, and a small town baker has run into his first crush again. Fate might have other ideas. Stiles tries for romance with a little help from what Beacon Hills does best— Halloween.

little boy lost by crazyassmurdererwall (smartalli), smartalli

)1/1 I 14,862 I Teen)

If someone asked Stiles to write a parenting book, Stiles would say the best and most important rule is to love your kid. Just love the hell out of them, and make sure they know it.

The second most important rule would be don’t turn your back on a curious three year old with supernatural speed.

Stiles is currently failing at the second rule. Badly.

Nearly Everything Shines by maevewren

(12/12 I 34,796 I Explicit)

Derek is a grumpy Park Ranger, Stiles is a daredevil rock climber. Each of them wants to escape his past, but maybe together they can find a future. Expect lots of cozy autumn feels, snark, major angst, and passion.

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #magic!stiles

[justrandomthoughs]

Obsessed with Jace and a dragon like reader who’s feral for him. Him sneaking into her room and sleeping on her bed. She confronts him about it and he’s horrified. “How’d you know?” She just looks at him and goes “my room reeks like you. It smells like we’ve mated.”

Yan! Jacaerys x Dragon! Reader - Perv! Jace is found out

TW: Swearing (by me—sorry), Sexual content, Unhealthy behavior

HMMM YES,

I know it's so implausible in the story for, like, a viable dragon-human hybrid (but thats also another story, I've been listening to too many Alt Shwift X/Alt Shift X videos lol) but I fucking LOVE the premise. Grrr, ruff ruff. Absolutely rabid for it. Y'all know Targaryen's ride dragons, so I'm enjoying connecting the dots between that and dragon reader smut lol.

Oooo, so the well-known, community wide, factual about Jace is that he's a lil' fucking pervert (but he tries not to give in to his impulsive and continual desires). So, I see him smelling your used clothes, pillows, towels, etc. Also he'd be doing it in your room, just hoping that he can do it quickly and sneakily enough that you don't catch him.

He will be raging the guiltiest, most perverse, boner and he will be PALMING that MF so hard. He might try to use what he swiped to jerk himself off, but it would only be for a moment since he doesn't want to leave any 'real' (to humans) evidence. He'd probably have a little hand towel or something with him to clean up and he'd bring it back with him so he doesn't leave any hard tracks (Oh god I just realized I picture Jace as a closet pervert... Idk y'all how do we feel about that lol. I like it since I clearly am inclined by virtue of my writing, lol, but I want to hear opinionsss!!!).

If you were for sure going to be out of the Red Keep or Dragonstone, I think he'd, at least once, lie on your bed and maybe fantasizes about talking, waking up, cuddling, fucking you on it. He just love anything that has to do with you, so he fantasizes about it for a bit. Probably also jerks himself off, turned on by the 'closeness' of the act because he's in your room. It's just filled with the essence of you, and he's drunk off it.

Dudes, when you fucking confront him he feels that HOT-ASS WHITE DREAD. He tried being really careful but I think that the high of doing something so improper and taboo like invading your personal area—and even jerking off in there—clouded his best judgement/intelligence. If it wasn't for the carnal desire, and the irrationality that stems from it, fucking up his rationality I think he'd have been smart enough to realize before he indulged that you would be able to tell. He probably had a lot of morality debates with himself, lol, but that bad side caved his will in. It would plague his mind for weeks though before he acts.

I think he might fuck up and say "How do you know?". FUCKING DEAD GIVE AWAY BRO. Deceased, but could still see it, perhaps if you teased him a lot before you revealed what you know. His brain would be too overloaded/lacking blood—it's all in his dick lol—that his self-preservation is out the goddamn window.

I think he could also say "What do you mean?" trying to be as vague as possible on his end but still probing into how damning the evidence you have against him is. BTW. By the FUCKING way. He'd be so red in the face. Stutters abound, light fidgeting (noticeable to you because dragon-observant [it just works] and also you are keeping your cool unlike him lol.), and not maintaining prolonged eye contact. Frequently breaks it to look at his feet or hands.

When you brought up the fact the the air smells like y'all mated, bro would be SO god damn dead. First off, he loves the fact that you made a comment on the possibility/result of the two of you having sex. Saying that it smells like the two of you having coupled, it makes him wonder about what it would actually smell like. Secondly, the fact that you said mated instead of fucked, had sex, or made love, gives your statement extra connotation. (What is the purpose of mating—the production of another life form, creation of life. Unlike fucked, sex, made love, the word mating indicates a direct effort to produce offspring). I think his mind might try to grab at straws and think that since you had the word mating come to your mind before fucking, etc, means that you've thought about mating with him. Starting a family with him. Being mated for life to each other. Clearly he has done the same for you. But oh god I could talk about this for longer but this is getting a bit long lol

Mind you this is all within about 1-5 mins before Dragon! Reader shows Jacaerys what the FUCK is up. This time the dragon will be riding the Targaryen....... OOOOOFFFF.

I love asks/requests/thoughts. Send them in, a bitch will talk about it (me)

<3

#jacaerys x reader #jacaerys headcanon #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon #yandere jacaerys #yandere hotd #yandere jacaerys velaryon #hotd x reader

[hayatheauthor]

Four Tips On How To Make Your Plot Twist Work 

Plot twists are often one of the most exciting aspects of reading a good book. When properly executed, plot twists enhance your reader engagement and make your readers feel excited and satisfied with your novel. However, when done wrong a plot twist can often feel redundant and make your reader feel unsatisfied and annoyed. 

Are you facing issues trying to make your plot twist work? Here are four tips for writing a killer plot twist. 

Tip One: Foreshadowing

One of the most important aspects of a good plot twist is foreshadowing, or dropping subtle hints that make your readers sit back and wonder why they didn’t connect the dots before. This can seem easy enough at first—you just need to drop some hints, right? But if done wrongly, foreshadowing can make your plot twist seem obvious and give away your mystery. 

When foreshadowing it’s important to only mention minor details that will tie together in the end. Maybe you’re writing a story about a popular boy band preyed on by a masked killer during their tours, and at the end the final victim remembers their agent suddenly switched all of their hotels last minute. 

If you’re writing a murder mystery it’s important to drop small hints about the killer’s identity. Maybe they used a very expensive tool only accessible by people of their status, maybe they left a clue at the murder scene that tied back to their personality. The protag could find their wife’s pink scrunchie on the victim’s wrist, or maybe their mentor’s favourite pen was found in the victim’s car. 

It’s important to steadily build a list of logical clues and hints that make your plot twist make sense at the end. 

Tip Two: Make It Obvious, Then Debunk It

One popular plot twist technique is to make your plot twist obvious at the start but then completely debunk it and convince your readers that couldn’t possibly happen, only for it to happen at the end. 

This is a very complicated technique and can either make or break your plot twist, but it comes with a high risk high reward. If you do pull this off you’ll leave your readers impressed and make them feel annoyed with themselves for falling for your ruse.

This technique can seem a little complicated, so here’s a simple list of how to properly apply this technique for your plot twist: 

Give your readers a valid reason to suspect the plot twist. Maybe the protagonist saw their wife leaving the victim’s car when they were returning from work and suspects their connections. It’s important to establish a logical reason for their suspicions, and make your readers agree with your character’s logic. 

Then, debunk it. Maybe the protagonist finds out the victim was their wife’s colleague and dropped her home after work because it was raining. They have no reason to suspect someone so close to them with their only form of evidence debunked, so they move forward with their case. 

Make them find out they were right in the first place. The protagonist sees the maid takes their wife’s clothes to the dry cleaner because they were covered with sweat patches since it was sweltering hot that day. Except, if it was so hot, then their wife couldn’t possibly have been with the victim because of the rain. This makes the protag think back to their own outfit that day and how they purposely left their coat at home. 

The example above gives your readers a logical and uncomplicated reason to believe the other character’s lies, but the protagonist’s choice of clothing gives your readers the adequate foreshadowing needed to make them feel annoyed for not catching the lie in the first place. 

You would obviously have to go into a lot more detail than I did above, but I hope this example gives you a clear idea of how this tip works. 

Tip Three: Pace Yourself 

Think of a plot twist as pulling the loose string of a sweater. The sweater doesn’t unravel with one pull, but it does fall apart slowly if you tug hard enough. Writers don’t just need a dramatic reveal to pull off a plot twist. You need to pace yourself and give your readers enough foreshadowing while also slowly revealing the plot twist. 

Maybe your protagonist thinks the masked killer is a vengeful servant only to find out it has to be someone close to them because they had access to the house’s upper floors. Or maybe your characters casually mentioned your antagonist’s motives at the start of the book. 

It’s important to properly pace yourself when revealing new information pertaining to your plot twist. 

If you suddenly drop a series of hints in the second half of your book then your readers will likely catch on before your big reveal. But if you drop hints in the first half then slowly solidify those hints in the second half, your readers will be able to understand your plot twist while also being surprised. 

Tip Four: Don’t Rely On Coincidence 

It is important not to rely on coincidence when revealing your plot twist. Sure, coincidences happen in real life, but a series of coincidences can take away your story’s credibility and make it seem boring. 

Rather than having your character coincidentally stumble upon a very important clue, make them work for it. Saying the protagonist coincidentally saw the maid leaving with their wife’s dry cleaning can be boring. This can be made more fun if the character believed their wife’s lie and left to fetch her coat from the front of the house (since she would have obviously worn one if it were cold and raining), only to find the maid putting away a knee-length dress for dry cleaning with complaints about the sweat patches staining the fine material. 

There’s nothing wrong with using a coincidence once in a while, but keep in mind too many coincidences can make it feel like you were too lazy to actually tie together your plot twist. 

When writing a coincidental scene, try to consider how your character could have gotten to this point of the story without the coincidence, and whether that would be more exciting to read than a mere coincidence. 

 I hope this blog on how to make your plot twist work will help you in your writing journey. Be sure to comment any tips of your own to help your fellow authors prosper, and subscribe to my email list for new blog updates every Monday and Thursday.  

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks? 

Are you an author looking for writing tips and tricks to better your manuscript? Or do you want to learn about how to get a literary agent, get published and properly market your book? Consider checking out the rest of Haya’s book blog where I post writing and marketing tools for authors every Monday and Thursday. 

Want to learn more about me and my writing journey? Visit my social media pages under the handle @hayatheauthor where I post content about my WIP The Traitor’s Throne and life as a teenage author. 

Copyright © 2022 Haya Sameer, you are not allowed to repost, translate, recreate or redistribute my blog posts or content without prior permission

#writing community #writing tools #haya's book blog #haya blogs #hayatheauthor #creative writing #writing things #writing tag #writing tips and tricks #writing tips #writing tip #writing tool #writing advice #plot twist #how to write a plot twist #author tips #author advice #author community #author tumblr #book blog #writersofinstagram #author stuff #author things #author resources #author help #writer things #writer tips #writer community #writer tools

[prolix-yuy]

Hello honey 💕 As promised, here I am submitting my request for the 500 follower celebration!

The list of prompts is amazing. I truly had a hard time choosing one, but after Chapter 2 of Both Side of the Door I need to know what happened between Mando and X'ian or I'll will never be at peace again. So I'll go for Heartbreak of betrayal with the two of them, hoping that you'll give us an insight into their relationship.

Ren's crew sees Mando as a sort of traitor, but I really can't see him act like that (as leaving Quinn behind) out of the blue. So who betrayed who? Who betrayed first? How? Why? And most importantly, what the hell happened on Alzoc III? S1E5 left us with so many questions. I need answers 🤯

Ma Chérie! My wonderful @amban-rifle! I have to start this off with an apology. I have held onto this ask for SO GOSH DARN LONG. This is from my 500 Followers Celebration OVER A YEAR AGO. I'm so sorry have kept you waiting but holy heck, what an ask! The drama! The complications! The holes in canon we all struggle with! Plus addressing one of the most confusing and complicated off-screen "relationships" many of us x Reader writers ignore. I wanted to do it justice, and it took a bunch of research, gorging myself on other Star Wars content, and staring off into space while that Spongebob meme of my brain being on fire danced in my noggin. But! It is here, finally. And for being so patient, it's an absolute monster.

Interlude: Burn in My Bloodstream

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader, Din Djarin x Xi'an

Summary: The Mandalorian has shared many secrets, but his greatest one is buried in shame and blood.

Word Count: 11.8k

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, canonical-type violence, allusions to sex work, rough sex throughout, oral sex (m receiving), gagging, voyeurism, fingering (f receiving), PiV sex (don't be a fool, wrap your tool), anal sex, creampie, choking, degradation, threesomes, semi-public sex, cuckolding, blood and descriptive gore, character death, genocide (what a tag that was to write), suicidal thoughts, a fuckton of angst, The Helmet Stays On and it's a Big Deal, a very toxic relationship dynamic.

Notes: This one was an exercise in researching and complicated storytelling, but now that it's done I am over the moon with how it came out. I know that the Din x Xi'an pairing is not many people's cup of tea, but if you want my take on how it came about and what I think happened to give us The Prisoner, here's it all as best as I can surmise. I'm staying as canon compliant as possible because it's fun to connect a bunch of dots, but obviously this is all speculation with some liberal fudging of timelines.

Takes place after Both Sides of the Door, with much of the story set pre-S1 and spoilers for S1 Ep6 The Prisoner. Our Reader character makes an appearance at the beginning and end, so she'll still have a place in this interlude. The title is taken from Ed Sheeran's "Bloodstream" and if you want to know where my mood was for most of this, that song is a good place to start.

Cross-posted on AO3

I Think of You Series Masterlist

After you retire for the night, Din contemplates telling you about the other woman who left marks on his life. Omera was easy; wrong place, wrong time, and no right time on the horizon. And if he was truthful with himself, maybe no right time ever. He could have loved her, loved the way she cared for him and allowed a softer life for himself. There are times when he lies in bed and wonders what a world like that might look like for him. 

It’s…difficult. 

Even thinking of a little plot of land, a space all his own tied to the earth of a planet, makes him yearn for the skies and space that surround you three on the Crest. He could never truly root in soil, so used to being a seed on the wind. There would always be bounties to chase, duties to fulfill, missions to complete.

Right?

And if he digs even deeper, he might find the clearest truth hidden among the memories.

His heart belonged to you longer than even he knew. 

There were times when he let others touch it. Omera’s hands held it gently, too kindly for him to accept. And to keep it, she would need him to lift the helmet, the one thing he could not give her. Being a Mandalorian is all he knows. So he took his heart with him, and he’s sure she’s better off without it.

But there was another who reached into his chest with claws and teeth and left him bloody from her affections. One he tries not to dwell on as long as he can. A time in his life that brought more shame than any other, misted in blood and sex and credits. 

He wants to share more of his world with you. You deserve to understand exactly why he is the man he is today.

But he does not think he can tell you about Xi’an.

“Got something special for you, Mando,” Karga says when he settles across the table. “You’ve been requested by name.”

Din cocks his head, one hand drumming restlessly. 

“That’s new,” he says. He likes playing mysterious for Karga, embodying all that a Mandalorian is supposed to be, even when some days he feels like a small child wearing his buir’s armor. At least it hides the worst of his apprehension, impassive helmet masking how his eyes constantly dart around the room, legs tense and ready to spring. 

“Ranzar Malk. Leads a small team of mercenaries.” 

Din tips his head back, folding his arms over his durasteel cuirass.

“Didn’t think you liked sharing the spoils,” he drawls, watching Karga carefully. The man laughs, sipping back some spotchka and winking at a woman sitting at his bar. 

“I don’t. I like my work without middle men. But they bring in very, very good credits. A percentage is more for both of us than the handful of riff-raff I could offer you.” Karga leans forward, elbow coming down and speaking lower. “They want the reputation a Mando can give their team. Help them get some bigger and better jobs. You lend them your striking silhouette, and you’ll be in enough credits to buy a whole suit of beskar. And my cut will be…barely noticeable.” The sly smile Karga schools off his face lets Din know it’s a lot more than unnoticeable, but the job intrigues him. 

“What kind of work is it?” he asks. Flashes of memories play at the corner of his mind - Mandalorians coming down from on high to save him, droids shredded in their wake.

“Malk and I have a strict ‘no questions asked’ policy. You do the work, you get paid.”

Din rolls his shoulders, fingers itching to grab onto something solid and deadly. 

“How long do they need my…reputation?”

Karga leans back and sweeps his hands wide.

“As long as you want. Open contract.”

Din considers the offer. Mercenary work has never been too lowly for a beroya, but he’d never done any. Mostly small-time criminals and shakedowns in return for credits. But if the money is as good as Karga makes it sound, it could help the covert ten times over. 

“Deal.”

“You must be the Mando.”

The voice is snarly, raked over a steel timbre. Din turns to see a barrel-chested, long haired man with a thick salt and pepper beard to match. His face is folded into a smile but the light of it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Extending a short-fingered hand, he pumps Din’s gloved one vigorously. 

“Karga said you were in need of reputation,” Din says, cooly delivering the lines he practiced on the flight to this no-name hangar in Outer Rim rubble.

“And what are you in need of, Mando?” Malk says, eyeing him with blatant curiosity. Din had planned for this question during his supply run. The covert wasn’t to be named, the last of a culture eradicated. So why was he still traveling, wearing the helmet if he’s not of an unseen world?

“Target practice,” is the dry answer he gives, leveling the helmet at the shorter man. Malk raises an eyebrow before a conspiratorial smile splits his lips. 

“I like you, Mando. Man of few words. You’ll get along with the other chatterboxes I run with.” 

Malk leads him to a hangar pad, small ships in various levels of disrepair scattered across the peeling floor. A sharp whistle brings three people into view, two purple Twi’leks and a human man. 

“My crew,” Malk says proudly, gesturing for them to come closer. The female Twi’lek saunters over with a swing in her hip, the heavy forehead-first stride of her companion close behind. The human throws a grease-spotted towel onto a box of tools and comes to an exasperated stop in front of Malk. 

“Can’t believe you shelled out credits for a tin man. I could have put a bucket on and we’d be just as well off,” the man says. His face is Malk claps him on the shoulder.

“Varlo,” Malk says, nodding to Din. He gives a polite tip of his head back. Varlo rolls his cold blue eyes and turns on his heel. His jaw is sharp and squared, matching his lithe frame as he climbs back into an open access hatch. The male Twi’lek approaches Din, soft footwork with his hands in his pockets.

“Qin,” he offers before Malk’s introduction, nodding his head at the amban rifle slung across Din’s chest. “Is it true weapons are part of your religion? Or is that all bedtime stories?” His smirk is condescending, not even veiled. A simmer of annoyance bubbles in Din’s veins but he tamps it out.

“Among other things,” he says instead, earning a sardonic smile and a handshake from Qin. 

“All weapons?” the female Twi’lek says at Din’s elbow, running her fingers up the length of the rifle’s barrel. Din twists away, visor meeting the sparkling challenge in the Twi’s eyes. 

“My sister, Xi’an,” Qin interjects as she circles Din with roaming eyes. She hisses at him, raising Din’s eyebrows under the helmet, before sharply switching to high-pitched giggles, like it’s the funniest thing she’s ever done. 

“Ohhhh, Mando, we’re going to have fun,” she says, finally coming to rest at her brother’s side. 

Din should have walked away in this moment, saved himself a lot of pain and heartache and blood. They were volatile, waiting for a spark to burn everything around them, and Din was only more kindling. 

The jobs were easy to start. Wealthy benefactors needing a little extra muscle to get their way. A handful of runaways returned home. One exceptionally smooth jailbreak. Din’s presence gave them a leg up on jobs, but his skills were where he became integral. Combat all done with the efficiency and proficiency of a Mandalorian, but flying was where he excelled. The Razor Crest, in her infancy when he first shook Malk’s hand, was a deadly bird under Din’s touch. Scrambling signatures aside, with Din piloting it was a ghost on the astral winds. 

It also became a strange cramped home to the five of them while they traveled. After complaints of too many credits spent on lodging, Malk casually inferred that the Crest could be a better home base. “We’re in it more than out most days,” was his dry reasoning, and with four people staring him down Din agreed, pangs of discomfort pushed to the back of his mind. It made sense, after all. The Crest was a cargo ship. Might as well fill it with cargo.

So between jobs and screaming dogfights in the sky, the mercenaries found themselves within the durasteel walls. Hammocks strung along the hold allowed for sleep, belongings mixing and melding to become communal. There was comfort in that for Din. Individuality beaten out of him in training, he preferred not knowing who liked what ration bar or whose ‘fresher items littered the floor. 

In that crush of company, however, he did learn about his family in arms. Not enough to urge him to reveal more of his own past. All of them lived in the present, their histories an inky shadow they let drag behind and paid no mind. He learned instead of their present, trial and error and observation his best tools.

Malk’s connections were far-reaching and unsavory, most bounties questionable in nature but not enough to turn down. He would choose jobs no one wanted, ones that were especially difficult or carried the highest price. A name for himself was the greatest goal, clawing for prestige in how fast, how deadly, how accurate the team could be. Din sometimes caught a feral glint in his eye when they returned, deed done. The crazier the escapade, the more he gloated in cantinas or to his associates. Rarely lifting a finger himself, he worked logistics and timing, connections and credits. And when the job was done, it was only his name that ever hung in the air as they walked away richer.

Varlo was quiet, calculating and cruel. Din thought the standoffishness was a front until he watched the man more closely and realized it was born of a distinct lack of empathy. He could not be bribed, or swayed, or bewitched. While Malk made connections and laid the groundwork, Varlo was the front man on foot. He could talk his way in, execute the seven councilmen sitting at a table full of secrets, and wipe the blood from a particularly valuable one before taking it as insurance. His carefully crafted armor of failsafes and blackmail let him sleep easy every night, no matter the strain Din might feel at the events of the day.

Qin was the strength of the operation. Not bulky like a Devaronian, but leagues stronger and more agile than his body could betray. With enough blaster cover he could incapacitate, maim, and kill anything in his path with his two hands. That surety in his body extended to his place in the world. His smile was always knowing, always scheming something behind the fangs. Time spent across from him could pass pleasantly - Qin could spin you a tale from thin air, wrestle someone into gasping submission, or share silence all in turn - but once he left there was the distinct feeling that he gained more than you meant to give. 

And then there was Xi’an. Qin and her relationship was manic on a good day, volcanic on a bad one. They snapped at each other constantly, enough that Din stopped trying to understand if they were mad at each other or simply passing the time. Where Qin was strength, Xi’an was stealth. Her steps made no sound, the silvery whistle of her knives the precursor to bodies on the floor. The delight she took in her own prowess turned Din’s stomach more than once. Brutal hisses and snarls giving way to raucous laughter and almost childish giggles raised the hair on the back of his neck. She was competent and brash, and Maker help anyone who said no to her. 

Behind all of them was Din, standing silent and glorious. His helmet parted crowds, murmurs and rumors following the swish of his cape. They wondered why he was running with this bloodthirsty lot, a member of one of the greatest warrior cultures. He let them guess. With his contributions his covert would grow, and one day the children - maybe even his children - would be able to stand in the sun on a world that they called home. 

Until then, he hunts.

Din manages to maneuver the delicate balance of this crew living on his ship for over a month before tensions rise. A week without work has made everyone snappish and riled. Malk is hidden away in the cockpit making calls so Din has to remain with them, arms folded as Xi’an needles at Qin. His lip curls into a snarl, and Din braces for a brawl.

“Treating me like your baby sister isn’t going to make the men think you’re tough,” she hisses, sauntering by Qin and circling Varlo. “They don’t care about blood when it comes to close quarters, long hours, pent-up frustration.” She walks her fingers up Varlo’s chest, stroking her pointer along his leather jacket. “Care to blow off some steam?”

Varlo skirts around her touch, dropping down on a crate and leaning back.

“Hard pass, I don’t dip into crazy,” he spits out, Xi’an’s mocking smile chased by a wink of his own. For someone who barely experiences emotion beyond curiosity and satisfaction, he’s good at faking it. With a turn on her heel, she approaches Din instead.

“Ever felt the touch of a woman, Mando? Let someone polish your beskar?” she trills. Din keeps his posture loose, tilts his helmet and sighs. 

“Quit dicking around, I’ve got something,” Malk says as he drops down the ladder. “Decommissioning factory has had some thefts. We’re doing short-term security until we catch the guilty party.”

Xi’an backs off, slumping down across from her brother as Din moves to set the Crest’s course. Out of the thick air of the cargo hold he can finally breathe. 

He’d wanted to rebuff her, brag about the women he’s brought to the heights of pleasure with just his fingers, but it’s a dangerous path to wander in the barrel of rocket fuel the Crest has become. Shifting his hips in the pilot seat, he thinks back to the last time he fucked his frustrations into another person.

A Togruta, maybe? Or was it that sassy brothel worker? 

(a girl on a desert planet that stopped time)

A shiver climbs his spine but he bats it down. In any event it’s been too long since he’s indulged in a soft body. He’ll take care of that after this job, ease some of the stress buried between his shoulder blades. It might make all of this strange arrangement more palatable.

Droids. It had to be droids.

Not the fact that the factory was decommissioning battle droids but that some were going missing, not turning up in the junk pile to be scrapped. The workers didn’t give two shits about it, but because the battle droids were so powerful and dangerous they had to have their chips pulled out and documented for the New Republic. Too many missing chips led to this group striding in like conquering forces. 

The first night is uneventful, Din passing patrols with Varlo and Xi’an. Varlo looks at him like another droid, the cold boredom on his face inexplicably boiling Din’s blood. Xi’an’s constant prowling only makes it worse, still determined to crack his stoic demeanor. He’s tired the next day, body running on too little sleep and too much adrenaline. Malk offers him caf that he refuses. He doesn’t like lifting the helmet in front of them.

The second night the issue comes into sharp focus. Not theft, but escape. A droid spray painted in yellow stripes enters the facility to reactivate its brethren. For what purpose they don’t know, and Din doesn’t care. Putting the droid in his sight, muscles tight around the amban rifle, Din squeezes a lifetime of pain behind the trigger. 

A cloud of dust. No more droid.

He thought that would satisfy the roar in his chest, but back in the Crest he’s more of a caged animal than before. Malk tells them to enjoy a day on-world, and Varlo and Qin follow him out to the industrial maze of the city. Din knows he needs something tonight, a fight or a fuck or both, so he gathers enough credits to cover his proclivities and makes to leave the ship.

“Where are you biding your time, Mando?” Xi’an’s voice purrs in the low light of the cargo hold. She’s draped over a storage crate, inspecting her nails and flashing a devious look at him when his visor turns. “Going to finally lose your virginity?”

He doesn’t know what compels him to say it. Maybe the constant pressure on all sides, or the neverending sniping at his expense. He knows it’s a mistake the moment he opens his mouth.

“Been a long time since I called myself that.”

Xi’an’s eyes flash up to the visor. It spikes in his stomach.

“I find that hard to believe, Mando, with all the…” She waves her hands around her head, pulling a serious face that she can barely keep on. He should stalk off, leave her to pouting and him to pounding into something softer and sweeter than whatever this was.

But it’s been too long, and he’s itching for confrontation in a way he’s never desired before.

“I’m good with my hands,” he says, one coming up to rest on his belt buckle, tilting his head to the side. Xi’an lifts off the crate, circling him with the serpentine swish of her gait.

“Oh I can believe that. Seen you with those weapons, your ‘religion.’ Man who keeps them that well cared for must be attentive in…other ways.” She slinks around to stand in front of him, dragging her eyes over the broad expanse of durasteel on his chest, flaking paint and silvered scratches. She walks her fingers down his chest, stopping at his trim waist. “But that doesn’t mean you know how to use this.” Her hand flashes out to grope at his crotch but he snatches her wrist, jerking her hands up as she squeals. For a moment he thinks it’s in pain, but the glint in her eyes and the flash of tongue between her fangs reveals it’s excitement. Releasing her, he moves to exit the cargo hold and find something, anything, to calm the rushing of his blood.

“Oh Mando, come on, wait,” Xi’an pleads, skipping back in front of him and adopting an apologetic expression. “We’ve all been cooped up here too long, rubbing each other the wrong way.” This time her hands glances down his side, nails lightly scraping along his hips before she drifts them feather-light over his cock. The electricity of her touch burns in his groin, filling him quickly. “Let me make it up to you, Mando. Rub you the right way this time.”

“This is…not a good idea,” he grits through his teeth, common sense screaming at him to leave, but the many-toothed monster that lurks in the back of his mind drools at the feeling of her fingers getting bolder, now stroking her palm over his stiffening cock. The helmet tips back a fraction as Din’s eyes flutter, excuses melting back into the delicious heat of her touch.

“The best ideas are the bad ones,” she teases, sidling closer to him. Her breath is hot on the edge of his cowl, soft little sighs zinging down his spine as she swipes her thumb over the clothed head of his cock. He tries to suppress the groan but it comes out a whine instead, spurring her on more. “You could use some release. Let me suck your cock, Mando. I’ll trade you for a kiss.” 

This is a monumentally bad idea and his survival instinct kicks in just before the monster waiting in the darkness claws his way to the forefront. 

“The helmet…stays on,” he grunts, backing up a half step. She rolls her eyes but triumph lives there now. 

“Fine, fine, your precious Creed. Then how about I give you a hand, and next time I’m in need of one you return the favor?” 

He struggles to take in a full breath, her fingers now wrapped around him and adding just enough pressure to spark in his pelvis and surge into his chest. He nods, fists clenching, as Xi’an’s smile breaks across her face.

“Oh Mando, how long have you been wanting this?” she purrs, sliding down his body to rest on her knees. Alarm bells sound in his mind. It’s too out in the open, too vulnerable. If Varlo or Malk or Qin, Maker forbid, came back he’d be caught and probably gutted. But the lap of her tongue along his waist as she opens the plaquet of his pants dissolves the worries into heady arousal as the monster he’s suppressed so long rears to life.

“Kriff,” he curses, tilting the helmet down to watch her pull his flushed cock out of his pants, thighs flexing when she coos over it. 

“So you’ve got the goods to back up all that swagger,” she sing-songs, looking up at him through her lashes as blood pumps loud in his ears. The arousal he’s feeling is unlike his usual encounters. In those he’s simmering even when his frustration is at an all time high, his pleasure delayed in favor of watching them writhe and gasp with the force of the orgasms he pulls out of them. It gets him harder than anything else. But now, looking down at someone who makes his blood boil at any given moment, his libido is at a roar screaming at him to fuck and bruise and take. The force of it makes his heart pound, unfamiliar and exciting.

“If you’re only going to look at it, I’ll go somewhere else,” he growls, keeping his voice as level as possible. It does the trick, her smile sly before she licks a long path from base to tip. The shudder is involuntary, a hot wet mouth not something he usually seeks out. He prefers a dripping pussy to bury his frustrations in but the power this position yields makes all the lewd cantina talk he’s scoffed at come into focus. 

“Patience, Mando,” Xi’an lightly scolds, but the thin wire of restraint he was still holding onto snaps. One large hand palms the back of her head, fingers digging into the edge of her head wrap for leverage. Her eyebrows lift in surprise just before Din presses his hips forward, breaching her lips with the head of his cock. He groans at the slick heat and the brush of her teeth over the ridge as he thrusts shallowly against her tongue. He thinks he sees a wrinkle of anger in her brow before her eyes flash with vengeance. She wraps her lips around him, sucking his head. 

“I’ve had enough of waiting,” he grits out, pulling back a fraction before sliding in deeper, pressing her further down his shaft. Her hands come up to his hips, fingernails digging in as a warning. The sharp points of pain focus his arousal, the mix with pleasure intoxicating. “You wanted it so karking badly, you….take it,” he growls, his thrusts deepening again as she takes him even further. Hissing around his intrusion, teeth come down enough to scrape along his cock just shy of unpleasant.

“Oh no you don’t,” he punches out, his other hand pinching her jaw to force her mouth wide. The lack of resistance drives him down her throat, a loud gag heaving her chest. The sound shocks his system, pulling back quickly as drool drips down her chin with her gasps. Uncertainty falls heavy over his libido now.

“Are you…?” he starts to ask, but Xi’an yanks him back to her face, pumping his cock quickly with the thick saliva she’s left on it.

“What’s the matter, Mando? Afraid of a little mess?” she taunts before swallowing him down again, the rough gags of her throat beginning in earnest. He can feel her spit dripping down his length, sliding over his balls as she rolls them roughly in her hand. It’s nothing he’s ever felt fucking a woman before, frustration and anger burning him inside out. He palms her head again, thrusting with her own bobbing rhythm as she hums around his cock. His hips pump, thighs clenching, stomach quivering at the onslaught of sensations driving him closer and closer to his high. Hazarding another look at her, she laughs around his cock before pulling off.

“If I’d have known it would be this easy to make you fall apart…” she begins to say, but Din shoves his cock roughly back into her mouth.

“Shut up,” he pants, fucking into her face in earnest. His orgasm is on the brink, body convulsing around her prone form as the monster ruts and chases his end selfishly. His teeth are clenched so hard he tastes blood, puffing air through his nose and snarling behind the visor. Vision red around the edges, his control is long gone as he fights her sharp nails and encroaching teeth and wild eyes. The tiniest voice begs him to stop, to look at what he’s doing, but when he sees her kneading at her mound over her pants, bucking her own hips in time with his punishing thrusts, everything lets go. He cums with a bellow, holding her there as his spend empties into her mouth. He gasps, sweat rolling down his neck and spine, the helmet almost suffocating with the heat trapped inside. 

When he pulls out Xi’an gasps and the gravity of the moment makes him stumble back. Tucking himself away he watches her cough on her knees, white streaks of his cum dribbling down her face to drip onto the durasteel floor. Once she catches her breath she looks up at him, and in her flashing eyes and feral smile he realizes something dark and devastating.

He wants to do it again.

Striding past to slam open the cargo bay doors, her roughened voice calls after him.

“That’s one on the books for me, Mando. I’ll come calling soon enough.”

His hands don’t stop shaking for hours.

Xi’an is right. It doesn’t take long for her to come to him.

A simple job gone bad, the target fleeing into hyperspace too quickly to follow. Xi’an had been seducing him in a flashy racetrack before he fled. Din had followed as her backup, watching her writhe on the target’s lap and whisper in his ear. Every now and then her eyes would flash to Din, holding the expressionless gaze of the visor as she guided another man’s hand to knead her breast. 

He told himself it wasn’t supposed to affect him. He didn’t care what she did, or who touched her. The scene from that night played in his head wrapped in nausea and regret. No partner he’d ever laid with drew out that much uncertainty and self-loathing, and he wasn’t keen to return to it.

But her curves still called to him, now straddling the mark’s waist. Familiar stirrings pulled up hard against disgust as he pushed the ravenous monster back down. It had gotten louder, fiercer after taking his pleasure so brutally. It screamed to take her again.

All of her work led to nothing. The target caught Varlo stalking up to apprehend him and make a quick exit. Even with four highly skilled mercs after him his resources won out. A faster ship, quicker access to his speeder. He was just within their grasp when he blasted off and into the atmosphere.

Xi’an shrieked her frustration into the air as the team re-entered the Crest. Malk confirmed there was no point following. They’d try again when he showed up at whatever gambling circuit he fancied next. She couldn’t stop prowling the ship, head down, glaring through her lashes. Varlo got a few sharp swipes for giving away their plan, but he threw up his hands and moved into the engine bay to let her cool off. Qin reclined in his hammock, watching bemused as she tried to self-soothe with no luck.

“Mando!” she finally hisses, jerking her head sharply as she strides past him and out of the Crest. His shoulders stiffen instantly, her brother’s hot stare branding his back. Hazarding a look back, Qin’s raised eyebrow and smirk make his face burn. But he still follows.

Xi’an is around the front of the Crest, leaning against the landing gear and seething. Din comes close, waiting for her to acknowledge his presence. Her eyes rake over the helmet, snarl less playful and more agitated. 

“I’m cashing in your debt, Mando,” she says, whipping her belt out of the loops so quickly it cracks. Din’s hands tighten on his, stance faltering.

“Not sure that’s a good idea,” he murmurs, bracing for the impact of his words. They land hard on her skin, quick steps bringing them chest to chest.

“I don’t give a flying kark what you think. I gave you my throat to cum in, it’s your turn. Give me your cock.” 

Din balks, trying to disentangle from the swirling vortex of rage, but her hands are small and quick to grab at the fabric around his neck.

“Or you can give me something else, Mandalorian. Show me your face if you won’t fuck me,” she snarls, grabbing for the edge of his helmet. He yanks her arm away, but the other tries just the same. He snags it in his fist, whipping his head back when she tries to knock the helmet off. Both wrists captured he pushes her back, pinning her against the landing gear. Her hips jerk against his own, legs kicking at his shins. Some blows land, leaving dark reminders for days to come. Her bared teeth and hissing finally push him to pin both of her hands with one of his, the other coming to firmly wrap around her throat. 

That finally stops her, eyes fluttering as he puts just enough pressure on her windpipe to quiet her. Hips rolling against his hardening cock, he leans in to crowd her against the durasteel mechanics.

“Is this what you want?” he husks, removing his hand from her throat to shove into her pants. The fit is tight, his thick forearm and vambrace stretching the waistband, but his skilled fingers cup her hot cunt. Even with the gloves on he can find her clit, roughly circling as she gasps and rocks against him. “Needed this attitude fucked out of you?”

“Mmm-hmmm,” she moans, hooking a leg behind his thigh to pull him closer. He yanks his hand out of her pants and pushes slick-soaked leather between her lips.

“Take them off, or I won’t,” he growls, waiting for her teeth to tug his gloves off his fingers. She stares at the tawny skin, all the silvery lines cross-crossing his knuckles and fingers. He tries not to dwell on this, on how she’s already pushed him past what he knows he shouldn’t do. Jamming his hand back into her pants he buries two fingers in her wet cunt, setting a fast and firm pace that has her crying out against his overwhelming hold. The monster snarls inside him, salivating at the prospect of rucking her pants down and…

“Mando, need your cock, need you to fuck me,” she whines, just short of begging. It knots his stomach that she knows how much she’s making him lose control. The rhythmic slap of his palm on her intimate flesh has him full and hard, grip tightening as he feels her walls spasm around his flexing fingers.

“Cum like this first and I’ll see if you deserve my cock,” he rasps, buying himself enough time to calm his raging libido a fraction. He shouldn’t fuck her, shouldn’t let this go on any longer than it already has, but his body is thrumming, snapping and snarling into her as she beckons him to let go, to find something blinding in her soaked cunt. 

Her orgasm clamps down on his fingers suddenly, the raw shriek making him clap his hand over her mouth. The loss of his hands pinning her wrists gives ample opportunity to rush open his pants and find his weeping cock. A few well-placed strokes has his rational mind dissolving into the single-minded concept of fucking.

He bends her over the landing gear, tearing her pants down over her ass to expose her glistening pussy. Normally that sight makes his mouth water. Instead he tugs on his cock a couple times to prepare. 

“Hurry up, Mando,” Xi’an whines, arching her back higher to present her hole to him. He pushes her chest down hard, a whoosh of air escaping before he sheaths his cock in her tight pussy. The momentary ecstasy of his slick entrance washes over him, planting both hands on either side of her head. His first thrust punches a moan from her lips, followed by a litany of curses and whines as he snaps his hips fast and hard. The loud smack of skin pulls out a thin moan of his own.

“Karking Maker, Mando, you feel so good,” Xi’an croons, a momentary lapse in vitriol. It makes Din chuckle as he grunts at her wet clutch.

“This all you needed? A cock to make you bearable?” he teases, angling his hips to drill into a spot inside he knows will make her scream. She gathers air before he shoves his sticky fingers into her mouth, pinching her jaw open as he penetrates her here too. Everything is dripping and liquid and hard and soft at the same time. His own orgasm is fast approaching, a roar in his ears that he chases with fervor.

“Gonna cum again,” Xi’an gasps around his fingers, slamming back against Din’s thrusts as she chases her own end. Two people so far inside but so far apart.

Din dutifully reaches between her legs and pinches her clit, sending her toppling over into a shuddering orgasm that clenches his cock so hard he has to pull out and cum all over her other tight hole. Lightheaded and heavy-limbed, Din tries to regain a semblance of control over the situation. 

This is just returning the favor.

This won’t happen again.

He doesn’t want this to happen again.

Shuffling back, he uses his bare hand to scrape his cum off her ass and flick it on the ground. Xi’an pulls her pants back up as Din tucks himself away and turns to stride back into the Crest. 

Stepping outside looking to be without a care in the world is Qin, licking Jogan fruit juice off his fingers as he discards the peel on the ground. Din’s whole body locks up, fight or flight response screaming at him to get away. 

“Get a good eyeful brother?” Xi’an singsongs behind Din, walking past him to re-enter the ship. Qin mock-glares at her as she passes and saunters away. When his eyes land back on Din he waits for a fist or a blade to connect with his flesh. Instead Qin just shakes his head with an amused expression and follows his sister.

Dread lands heavy in Din’s belly. His grip is slipping and he’s not sure whether he’ll hang on or fall into something even harder to climb out of.

That was the last time, he says to himself as he leaves a freshly fucked Xi’an in the ‘fresher. 

This time it’s over, he says as he splatters his cum on her tits. 

Never again, he promises after he spills his load into her tight asshole, cursing to the Maker about how good she feels choking his dick. 

He tries over and over to stop it, to tell her no, but every time she whines and needles and baits until he can’t help but bury his frustrations in her body. 

It’s been months since he joined Malk’s crew, and the spoils of their missions were fat in his pocket. He knows he should sneak off to the covert, give them the credits needed to keep them safe. Or to Karga, pay him his cut of whoring out his Mandalorian. It itches in the back of his brain, the duties he’s supposed to be performing.

Instead, he ignores Karga’s messages on his holo. He spends the credits on upgrades to the Crest and Corellian whiskey and brothels. The last is in a desperate hope to rid him of his addiction to the purple Twi’lek plaguing his bed. 

She stalks his days and haunts his nights, rarely away from each other. It makes it easy to let her straddle his waist in the tiny cubby of a bed and ride him until he’s dripping out of her. Sometimes she follows him when they’re on-world to the places where he spends his credits. The first time he caught her he made her watch as he fucked a plain but skilled prostitute. The following times, she joined him in his debauchery. 

He tells himself it’s the last time every time, but the fire always returns. The itch under his skin. The monster that roars under Xi’an’s sharp nails and sharper tongue batters the inside of its cage and howls until Din can leave more marks on her skin. It’s feral and bloodthirsty. Definitely unhealthy.

He still can’t stop.

The bounty they lost finally turns up in a swanky hotel on Coruscant. Xi’an goes to complete the job, her cover not blown enough to approach the target again. Words and drinks pass between them before his hands are groping her beneath the table. They slink away together, Din’s helmet following their heat signatures. The man’s crotch is white fire, but Xi’an’s registers no hotter than her body temp.

Couldn’t even get her wet. He’d have her blazing by now.

Din waits for the signal to apprehend the target outside the closed hotel room. Long minutes tick by, Din’s imagination spinning wildly as he imagines the man’s fingers in her pussy, licking her clit like he can never do, spitting in her mouth like he sometimes imagines with a frightening tightness in his groin. 

A trill sounds. Time for action.

Din bursts in, blaster pointed ahead of him to take in the lewd scene. Xi’an is naked on the bed, the target thrusting into her from behind. Her face is bored until she sees Din enter, lax posture trading for silky and sexy.

“What the kark-!” the target shouts, hands shooting up in surrender. 

“Took you long enough, Mando, I had to put up with this paltry cock for much too long,” she sighs, arching her back and presenting her heavy tits between her arms. 

“I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold,” he rasps, modulator hiding the strain in his voice. Xi’an tuts, shaking her head.

“This is my mission, Mando, and I get to decide that.” She cocks her head at him, backing up against the target.

“Does it make you jealous, knowing he’s inside me right now?” she purrs, circling her hips to elicit a choked gasp. Din’s hand tightens on the blaster, forcing his posture to be neutral.

“You did what you had to,” he grits out. Xi’an shrieks out a laugh.

“I didn’t have to fuck him. I wanted to, because I wanted to see what you’d do when another man tries to cum inside me.” 

Din’s arm begins to shake, and the monster snarls inside him. Mine, it roars. My fucked up little thing to break.   

“What are you going to do, Mando?” she taunts, rolling her hips on the terrified man’s cock. 

“What you want.”

Xi’an’s eyes flash in triumph. 

“I want to bring him in cold.”

Din shoots a blaster bolt between the man’s eyes, toppling him over and onto the bedroom floor. Xi’an wastes no time crawling to the end of the bed and turning around, round ass in the air. 

“Fuck him out of me, Mando.”

They pull orgasm after orgasm out of each other with a dead man on the floor. His blood stains one corner of the bedding, crimson as regret. When Din has her splayed out below him, tits bouncing at the force of his thrusts into her abused pussy, she croaks out a request.

“Take it off.”

He stills inside her, fire in his veins replaced by ice cold clarity.

“No.”

Xi’an snarls at him.

“Show me the face of the man that’s fucking me, Mandalorian.”

His hand comes up around her throat, a warning squeeze rougher than the ones he normally doles out. She quiets, but he has to flip her over to drill out his last orgasm. The disdain on her face is too much.

Seventeen missed holos from Karga. Shadows that follow him when he strides through town. And yet Din can’t pull his head above water. The light get fainter every time. During one mission he freezes in front of a snarling attack massiff and for a blissful moment wonders if its bite would kill him if he bared his throat. Varlo fells it instead, giving Din a confused look as they return to the Crest.

“You been sleeping, Mando? You seem off.”

Din bristles, stride widening.

“Don’t pretend that matters to you.”

Varlo shrugs, veering off to speak to Ranzar. The anger masks the anguish until later that night, when Din begs for the thoughlessness of sleep.

“Need some company, Mando?” Xi’an asks, like she does most nights. 

It’s better than guilt, at least.

It’s not long after Xi’an’s hunt that Qin climbs up into the cockpit while Din is piloting. They just entered hyperspace, the streaks of light soothing Din. The quiet sinks into his bones, contrasted against the dread of re-entering the cargo hold. The air is thick with boredom and potential energy waiting for a spark.

He’s turning to leave, find somewhere to escape for a few more moments of peace, when Qin clears his throat. He stands in the doorway, leaning against it with folded arms. Din stills, a standoff between the two men. He was wondering when he might have to endure this conversation.

“Whatever is going on between you and my sister,” Qin starts, right to the meat of the matter. Din respects that he doesn’t pull punches. “You need to figure it out soon. You may be having the time of your life fighting…and fucking.” He sneers at this, making Din’s face scorch under the helmet. “But the longer she thinks something is going to come out of it, the worse it will be when you tell her no.” Qin shifts to stand chest to chest with Din. They’re close in height but in this moment Din feels small and sacrificial.

“She doesn’t like being told no. I’m sure you’ve seen that.”

He has. The helmet is the symbol of his refusal, and Xi’an seethes at it. More than once he’s had to pin her hands down, too bold in her touches. Some days she playfully grabs at the lip, pulling him down to her level, but doesn’t let go quick enough for Din’s liking. Other times she lays her hands on either side and it feels tender. Her eyes soften, and Din wonders if there’s a hurt girl under all the posturing that wants proof that he cares for her. 

He’d told her once, as they laid in a post-coital tangle. The Creed, the helmet, why it meant so much to him. He didn’t speak of the covert, or of any other Mandalorians. They both have their own secrets.

“It’s a symbol of my fidelity,” he said. Xi’an lifted up on one elbow and studied the sharp lines and curves of the helmet, fingers tracing the impressive profile. 

“How beautiful it must be, to have someone so devoted,” she murmured. “What a gift.”

It’s one he can never give her, and she can never forget it.

“If you aren’t planning on giving her what she wants,” Qin husks, leaning in with a steely gaze. “Don’t drag it out. Make it professional.”

He leaves as quickly as he arrived, the weight of his words now on Mando’s shoulders. Qin has never been kind, but his ultimatum is a balm to Din’s anguish. He needs to end it. If he believes her to have any gentleness underneath her posturing it would be cruel to continue. There is no room in his devotions for her. 

The monster inside his chest finally soothes, curls into a ball and sleeps.

She doesn’t take it well.

“You want this to stop?” she laughs, lounging against a tree. Din had deigned to tell her away from the others, wanting privacy and space for her anger to hit a flash point.

“We’re professionals. This is too messy,” Din says, keeping his voice as even and calm as he can. Her face changes from incredulity to anger.

“This isn’t over just because you get a crisis of conscience.” She pushes off the tree and stalks towards him, suspicion coloring her demeanor. “Did my brother say something to you?”

That’s a trap he’s not going to walk into.

“I can’t give you what you want,” Din says, holding his ground as she comes chest to chest, much like her sibling. How alike they are in their ruthlessness. 

“Of course you can. You’ve got a perfectly good cock and talented fingers and some Maker-blessed stamina. Plus you’re filthy,” she purrs, raising goosebumps on Din’s neck. “What else does a girl need?”

Din tilts his head, watching her closely as he sees the shroud of the lie settle.

“The helmet,” he sighs, exasperated. His words hit the target. Xi’an’s features twist, shocked out of her feigned nonchalance.

“You’re ending this over a stupid little symbol?” she spits out, circling him like a prowling loth-cat. Din tenses, tempted to follow her path but knowing she’ll take advantage of it. He prepares for a blade. 

“I won’t remove it for you. And I’m done fighting you trying to do it yourself.” 

There’s a moment where he sees the hurt girl he’s trying to spare. It’s quickly raked back with fury. She hisses, digging her fingers into his cowl and yanking him backwards. He stumbles to his knees, his cape now wrapped around her forearms as she cuts off his air .

“All your morals and high ground as you’re spilling as much blood as we are, Mando. Defiling my body as you pray to your Creed. You’ll be crawling back to my cunt in no time, and I’ll slit your throat before I let you make a fool out of me.” Just as his vision begins to darken she releases her hold, letting painful lungfuls of air back into his chest. One boot kicks him square in the back, and he topples forward into the dirt.

“You’ll regret this, Mandalorian.”

She storms off to the Crest, leaving him gasping and coughing. He wishes, not for the first time, that he never shook Malk’s hand, never let them onto the Crest, never let Karga talk him into this. 

He wishes for time to stop, to take back everything the last months had carved out of his soul. For a bed, and a soothing touch.

(where is she now? Could she ever look at him the same way, after all he’s done?)

“New assignment,” Malk calls down, a groan of relief lifting the mood in the hold. “Big yield, and even bigger hush money.”

Qin grins, jostling his sister as Malk descends to them. She nods, listless since their argument. Din prefers that to the rage. It still pulls at a confusing feeling in his chest, something akin to regret.

“Where we off to? I’ve been itching to get out of this karking morgue,” Varlo gripes, taking the holopad from Malk. 

“Cleanup effort on Alzoc III. There’s some mines infested with a local species the mining company needs cleared out. Not sentient, but territorial. Mando, need you in the air. Varlo, running logistics. Qin, Xi’an, you’re with me doing ground work.” 

Din rolls his shoulders and cracks his knuckles. A big haul should set everyone up for a good while. Improve spirits, and maybe give him the boost to break away from this group that only becomes more hostile by the day. His silence will cost him, but with enough credits he may be able to buy himself back into the covert, and the Guild’s good favor. 

Alzoc III it is.

The planet is icy and hostile, vast snow-swept tundras and sharp peaks slicing up into the permanently gray skies. The harsh weather eats up heat from the outside in, the Crest’s life support systems working overtime to keep the interior above freezing. Din had to pull out a heavier flight suit, the other crew members donning furs and goggles in preparation for the mission. Xi’an had taken to glaring at Mando any time he was in the room, so he’d stayed in the cockpit for most of the trip. Malk had scoffed at him, standing behind the pilot’s chair as Din maneuvered them out of hyperspace.

“Women problems, Mando?” 

Din did not deign to give him an answer, but Malk persisted.

“Not a good idea to mix business and pleasure. A man of your experience should be more careful,” he says, clapping a hand on Din’s paudron. He tenses, but Malk releases him quickly after and heads into the tense hold with a snicker under his breath.

Din can’t wait to have the Crest to himself. Months of close quarters were making him itchy with tension, a constant frenetic thrum under his skin that he can’t even fuck out now. Varlo’s company would be silent at least. Plus a simple point-and-shoot mission has its appeal. The rest of the dossier states that the mines are overrun to the point that they can’t send in crews to extract the planet’s precious commodities. 

Varlo plots a multi-stage assault; Malk, Xi’an and Qin would place bombs at mine entrances and pick off anything that could tip off the plan. Once at their sniper posts, Din would aerial attack the mines from above, detonating the bombs and dropping his own payloads to collapse strategic parts of the tunnels. The mining company provided blueprints, and designated the choke points that would create the least amount of cleanup effort for them after the fact. 

In retrospect, when Din’s nightmares push into this shadowy period of his life, it was so well thought out it should have made him pause. They didn’t need highly skilled mercenaries, they needed bodies to carry out this plan. What the company really bought was silence, and anonymity.

Din circles the Crest just out of range of the mines, waiting for the go signal from Malk. Varlo lounges in the jump seat, occasionally speaking through his communicator. Din doesn’t much enjoy conversing with Varlo, so of course this is the time he decides to be chatty.

“So, was she purple like…all over?” Varlo says, raising the hackles on Din’s back. 

“You can ask her yourself. I’m sure she’d love to tell you,” Din replies calmly, banking a little harder to the left than he means to. Varlo chuckles low in his throat, his gaze burning into Din’s back.

“I mean I could, but it’s more professional curiosity. I’m surprised she hasn’t gutted you in your sleep yet.”

“Mando, time to shine!” Malk’s voice rings from the Crest’s holocomm.

“Roger,” Din murmurs, the muscle memory of his training kicking in as the Crest dives into the valley. Everything that’s plagued him for months - the loss of control, the cloying atmosphere, Xi’an’s magnetic push and pull - all fades into the background when he’s flying. His shoulders loosen, grip on the controls firm but relaxed. The lift and dip of the Crest is a familiar dance, lapping waves on a beach he’s never visited but somehow always knows. 

Then the first explosion appears through the transparisteel, and he dives into action.

The entire assault lasts maybe a quarter hour. Each explosion triggered by Malk is timed with another bomb Varlo releases out the cargo doors. The more powerful weapons hit their mark, miles of tunnels collapsing with shifting snow to fill in the depressions. Sometimes a small group of moving creatures - barely perceptible - burst from an entry, and the on-ground team quickly eradicates them. Din isn’t even sure he feels the cold creeping into the ship, too wrapped up in the warmth of a skill he’s honed for decades being used to its utmost ability. 

“That’s it, Mando, we’ll bring her down to pick up the rest at the hanger pad.” Varlo indicates a vast stretch of buildings, no doubt some shipping operation, with a generous landing zone. Din wonders how much trade must happen on this desolate planet, and how pitiful their price must be compared to the credits the company rakes in. 

Once landed, Varlo leaves to speak with their contact and provide a final report. Malk gets the payment, but he’ll be a little while traipsing across the frozen grounds. Din takes the lack of anyone on his ship as a brief moment of respite, checking for any potential damage and wandering through the cluttered living space. His annoyance at the mess is less than usual, the silence after a job well done vastly improving his mood. 

Deeper in the ship checking on engine function, Din hears a clatter. His shoulders slump again. He’d hoped for a little more peace and quiet before they returned. Trudging out to the cargo bay, he’s met with an even stranger sight.

Varlo left the cargo door open, the windbreak from the surrounding buildings keeping the elements at a minimum. Instead of the crew ascending the ramp, two furred creatures freeze just inside the warmth of the Crest. The larger one puts its body between Din and the smaller one, four black pearl eyes locked on him. His hand itches to grab his blaster, absolutely certain these are the creatures infesting the mines. They’re supposed to be hostile, ferocious and powerfully strong. He might be able to take one, but two could be a problem. He steels himself for a charge, but the larger one holds up one long-clawed hand, three fingers spread in the universal symbol for wait.

Din stops, confusion and a cold pit of dread opening in his stomach. The larger creature looks back at the smaller one, stroking its face as they make high pitched chirps and buzzes at each other through strange tubular mouths. Their fur is matted white and gray, easy to blend in on the tundra, as they tower taller than most bipedal creatures Din has encountered. The brief conference concluded, the larger creature rummages in its fur.

Din snaps his hand to his blaster, unholstering it in a flash to point at the creatures. The smaller one squeals - Din swears it’s in terror - and the larger one whips its head up to look at Din. It stills, one hand now held out overflowing with baubles. Din’s blaster falters as the creature takes a tentative step forward, offering lustrous milky pearls. His throat closes up, but his training keeps his weapon on them. At his lack of movement the creature looks back at the smaller one, urging it forward. It holds their faces together, foreheads touching as plaintive whines cut through the air. The pearls transfer, and the larger of the two urges the smaller forward. 

Din can’t breathe, chest banded with horror. The littler creature holds out the offering, clicking and chirping as the larger one waits back. It’s all too clear to a man who lost his family in a war he did not understand what this transaction is, and what the consequences of his actions means. He drops the blaster, stepping towards the creatures. They shrink back in fear, but the little one still holds out shaking hands, pearls dropping to clink on the durasteel floor.

“I…” he says, heart hammering in his throat. The larger one - the mother, he thinks - raises its head with something like hope. 

“What the kark?!” Varlo shouts, ascending the ramp. Din tries to speak, to explain that everything has gone so wrong in a handful of moments, but Varlo’s blaster is already out.

Three bolts, loosed with deadly efficiency, and the smaller creature falls, pearls scattering on the floor and rolling away. The shriek of the larger creature will haunt Din for years, as clear as the day he heard it when he finds another pearl lost in the ship.

“No!” Din screams, but Varlo is already turning to the charging creature. Three powerful swipes knock him down, blood spurting into snow, before he fells the creature with another series of blaster bolts. Then it’s just Din, gasping amongst the gore. Sobs wrench his throat, hot tears running down his cheeks as he shakes on his feet.

“Fuck, Mando…need…kit,” Varlo gasps. The creature cut him deep, flashes of white bone peeking through the layers of flesh. Blood dribbles from his lips, teeth stained red as he struggles to breathe. His voice is faraway and tinny, but Din’s body answers. He walks numbly to Varlo’s side, kneeling beside the man’s mutilated body. 

“They were sentient,” he says, and the horror blends into anger, one hotter and more encompassing than any he’s ever felt. 

“Get me a Maker-damned bacta shot!” Varlo burbles, a rough cough spraying blood on Din’s chestplate. He’s not sure when he decided to slit Varlo’s throat, but one moment he’s alive, the next he’s laid out with unseeing eyes, the messy slash of a vibroblade mimicking the brutal claw marks. 

He doesn’t remember moving the creatures’ bodies, laying them down on the icy ground outside the Crest.

He doesn’t remember what he tells the others when they return. Xi’an and Qin stalk by, barely affected. Malk chews the inside of his cheek, staring at Varlo’s corpse for a few moments before entering the Crest.

“Split is four ways now. First come first serve to his things. We take off in 5.”

Din doesn’t recall where his body was during takeoff, or once they got into hyperspace. The events play like a holovid missing an actor, feelings and sensations eerily absent. He thinks he piloted them off world, attributed to muscle memory. He remembers a conversation, but not with who, or why it began.

“The species was sentient. They tried to barter to get on the ship.” 

“Mando….”

“One attempted to sacrifice itself for the other. An animal can’t do that.”

“We got paid not to ask questions.”

“That wasn’t a mission. That was genocide.”

“You’ve done worse, Mando. We all have.”

Except that wasn’t true. In the song of Din Djarin, this would always be his greatest sin. 

One tip to the New Republic was all it took. A set of coordinates and a date and time. Malk wanted to gamble and whore after Alzoc III, and Qin and Xi’an had no qualms. Din only sat silently, the days since the genocide bleeding into one another. Xi’an had tried to tease him about it - seems like you lucked out against those claws - but his cold turn of the head and quick exit quieted her tongue. 

He waited for them to leave, credits in hand, before reporting their whereabouts to the New Republic garrison. He conveniently left himself and the Crest out, detailing his crewmates’ crimes and exactly where they would be. Then he laid low, waiting for enough time to pass so as to not arouse suspicion. 

He would not see Qin or Malk for many more years, though he’d hear of their escape from some Guild contacts. Not much could hold either of them for long. Xi’an didn’t leave him so quietly. 

“Karking traitor!” she screams, leaping on his back outside of the Crest. A blade sinks into his shoulder, ripping a cry from his lips. She pulls it out and drives it back in his bicep, his hands scrabbling to throw her off. She gets him two more times before he crushes her against the Crest’s hull, knocking her grip loose. His left arm is screaming, blood pouring down his fingers. 

“After all we did for you, you turned us in?!” Her knife hits home again, swinging to stab into his calf and the meat of his thigh in quick succession. Din disarms her, skittering the knife away, before landing a blow in the center of her chest that, with a little more force, could have stopped her cruel heart. She lies gasping on the ground, eyes wide and wild as they look at him towering over her. For a moment that uncomfortable feeling pulls at him again, something like regret and remorse and a mourning of what could have been. It weakens him enough to kneel down, body screaming.

“I’m sorry…” he tries to say, the next words lost in his turmoil. Sorry for starting whatever fucked-up thing they had between them? Sorry for not being able to give her what she wanted? Sorry for how it was destined to end?

Another blade sinks into his side, ripping down as she screeches. 

“You are nothing but a traitor, Mandalorian. Betrayer of your allies, of your Creed. I hope your Maker-damned helmet ends up in the gutter with your corpse.”

He yanks the blade free, head dizzy at the realization that much of his blood is on the ground instead of inside him. He puts one hand around Xi’an’s neck and squeezes down. She’s out in seconds, dragged to the hangar entrance for the New Republic guards to find. Safe or not, he takes off with the Crest and manages to close up enough of his wounds with the cauterizer to stop the bleeding, burnt flesh singing his nostrils. He blindly dials in coordinates for Nevarro, barely staying conscious through the jump. Once autopilot kicks in he dips into darkness.

The Guild takes him back. Begrudgingly. He pays his dues and offers them the pearls the creature spilled across the hold. Their value surprises him, almost annoyed he didn’t save some for himself, but the thought of his own pockets lined with treasures given by the dead chills his blood. He leaves them all with Karga, and waits for the distrust to fade from his face. 

The covert welcomes him back with disapproval. His wounds spare him for a few weeks, sequestered from the rest of his people. It makes him ache, the obvious disappointment of his alor and the wariness of his fellow Mandalorians. The rumors swirl about where and why he was gone so long, why their beroya would betray them. He takes his penance, every blow and setback and humiliation. It is no worse than how he punishes himself.

When he returns to the Crest, tucked in the back of a trusted hangar, the mess strewn about the hold claws at his throat. He removes every memory of those months, setting belongings and refuse outside the cargo doors for scavengers to pick through. Even his own personal items make it into the pile, the memories attached to them too painful. 

He cleans the ship top to bottom. No more hammocks strung from every corner. No more constant noise. No more ever-mounting tension. Just durasteel and silence. 

It takes a full day to bring the Crest back to pre-Malk condition. The darkness surrounds Din, and after weighing the pros and cons of returning in the night he closes the cargo door. Shuttling open the small cubby sleeping space, he crawls in and settles on his side. The door slides shut with the lights dimming soon after.

Din lies there as his body slowly quiets, his armor digging into his sore shoulder, tender ribs and neck. Piece by piece he removes it, laying the shining examples of his honor beside him. The helmet is last, and it’s the first time in months he’s been able to breathe without it inside his own ship. The pillow is measly under his head, but he sinks down with a sigh. Arms tucked into his chest, knees pulled up to his stomach, surrounded by the walls of his ship and nothing else, he lets himself mourn the deeds he’d done. It will be far from the last time, but this is the rawest, the most painful as he let the shame grip him. Once exhaustion wins the hums and whirrs of the Crest lull him to sleep.

Din doesn’t tell you about Xi’an. It’s a lie of omission - you never prod him on his past, and he rarely asks about yours. There’s no reason to dredge up pain. If you want to offer something you do, and if you truly ask him he’ll offer pieces of his own. But you’re not swapping stories around the fire. So he sees no reason to tell you.

Until one day, he does.

It was the perfect sandstorm of triggers. A child snarling at her brother, then squealing out a laugh that cuts through his head. The singing of blades through the air as some men toss them at a target. A purple Twi’lek between you and Din, reaching out a hand to clap your shoulder. Din’s hurried steps bring him to your side in record time, helmet tilted down in challenge but the Twi just looks at him curiously and takes a step back. Your own brow knits, a bag of supplies in hand. 

He tries to center himself back on the Crest, busying his racing thoughts with jump calculations and messages to contacts about the Jedi. It works until you climb up to the cockpit, leaning against the console as he turns his attention to you.

“Bean found something in the ship, I thought it might be important,” you say, holding out your upturned palm.

A pearl.

He thought he’d found them all, but the child’s nosiness unearthed one last bloody memory. He freezes, hands tight on the console. 

“Been holding onto some treasure?” you tease, but your face is uneasy as you sense the tension in the air. “I’ll put it somewhere safe, maybe we can barter it…”

“No,” Din rebukes sharply, snapping the visor to you. Your eyes widen, chest curling in on yourself. 

“Okay,” you say quietly, hand closing around the painful object. Din slumps, leaning forward and hanging his head.

“I’m sorry, it’s…nothing good will come of that. It was bought with blood,” he says quietly.

“So are most things on the Crest,” you say, wrapping your arms around your middle. Din heaves in a breath.

“Not the same kind.”

And so he tells you the story of Ranzar Malk and his employment, of the acidic crew and the six cloying months he spent with them. Of Xi’an and her allure, and the pain it caused. Of Alzoc III. Of the pearls. 

You listen in silence, watching as Din relates his darkest story. The shame burns his skin, eats at his stomach, sours his tongue. How can he possibly redeem himself in your eyes after this? Would you ever look at him the same again?

Once he finishes, and the quiet of the ship pervades, you move to stand between his parted knees. Two hands settle on his shoulders, and without reservation he wraps his arms around and lays his head just below your breasts. The rhythmic inhale-exhale of your breathing cools his pain.

“Have you seen any of them since?” you ask. Din huffs out a sigh.

“Malk hired me for a job a few months back. Didn’t tell me the mission, just relied on a debt being repaid and the Crest still flying.” Din shifts against you, considering leaning away, but your firm hands keep him held to your chest.

“Was it bad?”

“We were rescuing Qin from a prison ship. Xi’an was there, set me up to be killed by the new team. I left them there.” After the draining retelling, he can’t bring himself to extrapolate on the tense reunion.

Tell me why I shouldn’t cut you down where you stand.

I did what I had to.

Oh, but you liked it.

You were hired to do a job, so do it. 

Isn’t that your code?

Aren’t you a man of honor?

“Thank you for telling me,” you finally say, stroking your thumbs along the line of his shoulders. “That was…difficult. To tell, I’m sure. It was hard to hear.” Din fists your shirt, squeezing his eyes closed at what will surely come.

“You made decisions and you’ve suffered the consequences of them.” You cup the back of his neck through his cowl. “And if you think I haven’t made a terrible decision about who to trust, I have stories I can share. Later,” you say, lightness in your voice. It makes Din lean back to look at your face. If you could see his, you would know his mouth is dropped open, eyes wide and wet, as you stroke the sharp lines of his helmet. You’re the only one he trusts to touch.

“Did you think I would hate you for this?” you ask, and Din’s nod is barely perceptible but you feel it. “You’ll surprise me, and terrify me many more times Mando, but you’ll never drive me away. The galaxy is only shades of gray.”

He lets you hold him for a time, hands soothing on his worn body. Your acceptance doesn’t heal him. By now he’s not sure anything will. But it balms the wound enough to breathe easier. 

It’s the beginning of letting himself know you, and be known by you. When you say that your best friend taught you how to skip rocks, he asks how you met her. When you look on in wonder as he dresses a piece of game, he explains how his buir taught him survival hunting. And when the child wraps his tiny claw around Din’s thumb and he strokes it gently, you ask him if he has a son somewhere. 

“No,” Din answers, the child warm in his arm and your body close enough to coax into his, if he would dare let himself want it. “But the Creed states the importance of caring for foundlings, and raising warriors.”

You hum and smile, turning back to your task, and for a moment much longer than fleeting, Din lets himself wonder if this is what a clan is supposed to feel like, and when it grew from two to three. 

END

Interlude 2 of the I Think of You series

#din djarin x xi'an #the mandalorian x xi'an #mandalorian x xi'an #din x xi'an #mando x xi'an #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando x you #mando x reader #the mandalorian x female reader #mandalorian x female reader #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x f!reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din x reader #din x you #prolix fics

[topazshadowwolf]

it’ll be cute if kid dust learn about Christmas

He had hoped that by now the boys would be back to their true selves. Instead, he was preparing them for the upcoming holiday. More specifically, he was introducing Dust to Christmas in slow increments. The others already knew and understood the holiday. All three were all but bouncing off the walls with excitement. Not that Dust was not getting excited, too, following the energy of the others. He just needed help to understand what it was he was supposed to be excited about.

First, there was the tree. Nightmare brought the boys out of the castle to an empty and snowy AU. Once there, they went sledding before helping him find the right tree within the forest of evergreens. Then, after cutting it down and pulling it back through a portal to his castle, he had the boys help him doctorate the evergreen. Dust was confused by this, but he was enjoying himself and wanted to help. After words he sat quietly in the room with the tree as Nightmare read quietly to himself. Occasionally, the guardian would look up at the child who marveled at the lights and colorful ornaments. 

They had that moment of peace as the others played in another room with Lyra playing a game. It was good that they had it though, as it was the first introduction to the concept of Christmas for the boy.

Starting that night and every bedtime after, he read various Christmas stories. They each provided more information for Dust to learn and over time, Nightmare could tell the child was beginning to understand. He could see Dust connecting the dots as he looked around at the decorations Lyra placed as he reflected on the stories. Dust even started to ask small, questions that showed he was trying to understand more and was excited to see what will happen.

“what does it mean to be good?” “It means you do not misbehave and do what is right or what your told to do.”

“why do the bad children get coal?” “They get coal because that is not fun or nice”

“if i failed at doing something i was supposed to do, does that make me bad?” “No, especially if you are talking about the tests. If anyone deserves coal, that worthless Doctor should be buried in it.”

“we give gifts to each other… but what if i don’t have money to buy things?” “well, i can pay for the gifts for now, or you can make something yourself.”

“what if someone i made something for doesn’t like it?” “It means that person has a cold soul, as they can not be bothered to acknowledge the hard work and love you put into making the gift.”

Now that he knew Dust understood, next came the challenge of Santa letters. He was going to have to help the boys write them. So, one by one, he had them come to his office, and he helped them write their letters to Santa by transcribing what they said to paper or providing spelling and grammar assistance as they wrote it themselves.

Lastly, in came Dust, Ferrous trailing behind him and a yellow Pocket Mans character in Christmas garb in his arms. The child looked at Nightmare with nervousness glance but he relaxed as Nightmare smiled at him, “Come on over here, Dust.”

Obediently, the child went further into the office and to the desk. Once he was close enough, Nightmare carefully picked Dust up and set him on his knee. Ferrous sat and watched, tail wagging and Nightmare gave the loyal canine a pat on the head. Turning his attention back to Dust, who hugged the stuffed toy while looking up at Nightmare attentively, Nightmare said while grabbing a piece of paper and his quill, “It is time for you to write your letter to Santa.”

… He had hoped they would be adults by now… but he had a feeling this was going to be a very special Christmas that he would always cherish.

#Working on the Christmas fics so I doubt I will do a full GoopTales Christmas Special #Sorry #But here's a small bit of what could be #GoopTales #dust!sans baby bones focused #dadmare #nightmare!sans