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vampi-fixx · 1 year

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day 9, sesshomaru: ruts

kinktobruary day 9

sesshomaru x reader // inuyasha

—sesshomaru has been acting strange lately. the last thing he needs is your oblivious questions.

tw/cws: knotting, ruts, dubcon, sesshomaru being too horny to have self-respect

It is troublesome, this burning heat. It stirs, just beneath the surface of his skin, coils between his muscles. It calls to him, urges him to find a warm body, to mount it. His claws elongate as he observes the heat diffusing from his palm. Hm. Even a demon of high caliber such as himself is powerless to nature’s calling.

Much less… his thoughts began to drift to you, his very human companion. There are things he wants to do to you, thoughts that he’s repressed in the past that come snarling towards him, breaking out of their cage. He frowns. This won’t do.

—

“Gosh, Sesshomaru really has been cranky all day, huh,” you remark, after the third time he’s evaded your presence. His silence and occasional ignoring is something you’re used to, but not him outright using his demonic speed to dash seven paces away from you.

Jaken shushes you urgently, glancing fearfully towards his master. “Lord Sesshomaru is going through a… difficult period.”

You frown. You disappeared to the modern era for a few days to sort through your college midterms, and when you came back, Sesshomaru was in this bristly mood. You can’t help but think you’re missing something.

“Is it Inuyasha?” You ask lowly, knowing all too well of his tumultuous relationship with his brother. “Does it have to do with his father?”

“No, and no, you daft human,” Jaken nags.

You’re more than used to Jaken’s insults. “Okay, so…. what’s up with him?”

The imp glances eyes you, before quickly changing the subject. Your frown deepens as you finish bending the stems to Rin’s flower crown, before calling her over and placing it on her head. While she chatters excitedly to you, you find your gaze straying to Sesshomaru’s tense form in the distance, just far enough where he can still keep an eye out for enemies, but not too close to your group.

Whatever his problem is, you would get it out of Jaken some way.

—

You just don’t anticipate how you will.

Sesshomaru’s been acutely avoiding any and all interactions with your group all day. It’s almost as if he’s a specter, lurking just outside of your field of vision. Except whenever he does get closer, you’re overwhelmed by a sense of—bloodlust? Malice? Something that simmers with intensity. You can’t quite pinpoint it, and whenever you ask Jaken, he seems to evade your question. Whatever it is, it sends shivers down your spine.

When you set up camp for the night, he disappears entirely.

Your thoughts are plagued by worries for him, and you fall into a fitful sleep. What could possibly be causing him to be so on edge all day? You’re stirred into consciousness by something brushing against your nose. Your face scrunches up, and when you open your eyes, you see a flash of silver hair, curtaining your view, the same wave of bloodlust—

“Sesshomaru?” Just as his name leaves your mouth, his presence is gone in a flash, the air around you stirred. You sit up, glancing towards the direction of his after-image.

You weigh your options. Jaken did say he was going through a difficult time…. but you aren’t sure what is troubling him. Maybe it’s a demon thing? Should you really risk getting your head bitten off?

Against your better judgement, you go searching for him. Sure, he’s a big, bad demon, but something is clearly bothering him. And as his.... friend—as loathe as he is to admit it—you can’t just leave him be.

What you are not expecting is to see Sesshomaru hunched over by a tree as if in pain. You call out his name, running towards him, but are stopped by a feral snarl as he turns towards you, his eyes flashing red.

“Leave. Now.”

“What’s wrong? I—”

As you approach closer, you notice several things. His claws are sunk into the tree, the poison leeching from it and decaying the bark. The markings on his face are fiercer, more striking, and his fangs protrude from his lips. His eyes flash more and more red with every moment; he looks every bit a wild animal. But, and perhaps the most scandalous of all, he grips his cock in one clawed hand, erect and red, and apparently he was jerking off.

You try not to stare, you really do, but your eyes instinctively dart down there as you feel heat creep to your cheeks at the position you’ve caught him in.

His hand has stopped moving, but his cock stands throbbing, looking painfully erect. You gulp.

“You’re just a mere human. You wouldn’t understand—”

“You’re… horny,” you state, blandly.

“Human—” His eyes flash dangerously.

“You’re...” Your mind flashes through possibilities. Sesshomaru seems unable to control his... not bloodlust, but carnal lust. He is a dog demon, which means.. he could possibly be... “In a... rut?”

He stills. A vein pops out in his jaw, his fangs seeming even more prominent.

“I… I studied this in school. Once.” Freshman biology, but he doesn’t need to know that. “Do you need—” You’re not sure what you’re asking him. What does he need? A hole? A demonness to fuck?

This is awkward. His eyes follow you like a predator, that wave of lust washing over you again. You stifle a shiver.

“Before your arrival,” he says suddenly, the piercing quality of his words startling you. “I had no such issues dealing with these… urges. But now, they are quite...” His claws dig into the bark further, and the bark snaps. “Incorrigible.”

“Oh.” You blink. “I’m… sorry?”

“This is partly your doing,” he growls.

“Uh-huh...”

“I... am tempted to ask you to fix it.”

This is where your brain grinds to a halt, your jaw dropping. His sharp gaze hones in on the way your mouth opens enticingly, and you notice, snapping it shut. “I—you want me to—”

He makes a frustrated growl in the back of his throat. “Disregard that.” And then he’s stalking away, each step seeming painful, emphasized even more by the engorged flesh sticking out of his pants.

“W-Wait, Sesshomaru—”

He’s on you in a flash, before you can even blink, and you freeze. “I suggest—” The warmth of his breath washes over you, and this close you can feel just how hot he’s running, his entire body diffusing heat. “That you don’t—call me—like that—”

“Like what?” you blurt out. “I’m just saying your name.”

His lip curls over his fangs. His eyes clench in frustration. You seem to be testing the limits of his patience.

“Sesshomaru, what—”

In a flash, he’s pressing you against another tree, and his lips are claiming yours. There’s nothing gentle about it, his fangs digging into your lip. You flinch when you feel blood trickle down your chin, and he snarls at the taste of it, before pulling away.

“For one of the less idiotic humans, you can be quite obstinate.”

“I’m...” You blink, dazed. “Sorry?”

His mouth is claiming yours again, his chestplate pressing you into the bark. You feel the heat of his cock pressed up against your thigh, and you shudder at the sensation. It’s hitting you now.

Sesshomaru, one of the most ethereally beautiful people you’ve seen, the most powerful demon in the Feudal Era, wants to... he’s this frenzied up because of... because of you. You, an average human.

Your thigh nudges against his length, and he breaks the kiss to snarl, his fangs lowering to graze your collarbone. Your breath hitches, and one, clawed finger comes up to shred your shirt. You yelp as the cold air hits you only to be devoured by the heat of his mouth on your skin. His fingers claws through the material of your bra, and you yelp again.

“Hey, that was one of my favorites!” you say, indignant. He scoffs, his mouth suctioning over the give of your flesh possessively.

You moan, arching into his touch, as you stare down at him. You don’t dare touch his silver hair, afraid of how he may lash out on you, but your hands do come up to his shoulders, tugging the fabric.

You tense when one of his fingers lowers itself to your hip, and then he’s ripping the panties and skirt off in one clawed swipe.

“We really... have to talk about you ruining all my clothing,” you say, weakly, your affront tempered by his actions.

He scoffs again. “You won’t need such flimsy things in just a moment.”

“Ah...”

His finger slides against your slit, collecting your release, as you writhe against his touch. He’s aware of the softness of your flesh in comparison to his demon claws so he doesn’t do anything much other than rub his finger back and forth along you. He growls once he’s satisfied with the amount of slick coating your area, before leaning back and aligning the his cock to your entrance.

“A-ah wait—“ Your eyes widen at his considerable length; you’re not nearly ready to take him in. But then he’s canting his hips forward, not penetrating you, but sliding his cock along your slick till he reaches your ass cheeks. He continues this rocking motion, his lips pulled back in a snarl. You moan, dropping your head back, before wincing as it hits the unyielding bark. His hand comes up to cradle your head. “Thanks,” you murmur.

His sharp gaze is fixated on the way his length slides against you, and rubs against your slick; the way your arousal gleams on his shaft under the moonlight.

His hips begin to rock faster now, a growl building up in his throat. You wince at the dig of his armor against your bare skin, gripping his shoulders as you attempt to find some grounding.

You feel his cock throbbing insistently against you, his pre-ejaculate mixing with your arousal to make for an easy slide against you.

He growls, his eyes narrowing. His grip digs into your hip as his thrusts become choppier. You get the sense he’s frustrated.

“Do you want to... put it in?”

His gaze flashes up to you, surprise in the bleeding red, as you continue. “I... that’ll help abate your rut right? I don’t mind... you using me.”

You have little else you can say, because Sesshomaru sheathes himself inside you in one thrust. You gasp, your eyes clenching at the feel of him stretching you to your limits.

“Ever heard of a... a warning?” you manage to choke out.

He shows no mercy, his hips ruthlessly pounding into yours once given the go ahead. It’s clear Sesshomaru is losing his grip on rule or reason now, his eyes maintaining their blood-red state. You wince as his elongated claws press into the meat of your waist. He fucks you like he takes down foes: with ruthless precision. Once his cock hits that spot that has you keening against him, he begins hammeringinto it, and your eyes began to water at the sheer intensity and rapidness at which your pleasure is mounting.

At the sight of your tears, however, he seems to slow down. His tongue darts out to lick them off your face, and he’s observing you, before his thrusts slow to a leisurely lull. When the palm of his hand comes down to press against your clit, the stimulation, combined with the way his cock is plunging into you in long, deep thrusts, has you writhing against him.

“S-Sesshomaru—”

You feel something bulbous forming at the base of his cock, stretching you wider, and you look down. Protruding from his cock is a thick knot, and you gulp once you realize that’s going into you.

You’re approaching your end. He snarls as you tighten around him, both his hands gripping your hips to him now, as your walls clench around him, nearly trapping his cock with their grip.

Sesshomaru thrusts once before pressing deep inside you, a throaty grunt tearing from him. You shiver as you feel copious amounts of warmth seep into you, and it remains inside you due to the knot plugging you up. The moment seems to stretch on forever, his hips jerking into yours in minute movements, and then it’s over.

The two of you are stuck together. You shift only to wince once it jerks at his knot. He grunts, keeping your hips in place.

“Sorry,” you say. And then, when a few more minutes have passed, and the two of you are still in the same position, you ask, “Ah, when can we.... detach?”

Sesshomaru grunts. “Once it deflates.”

“Ah... and when will that be?”

He shifts. “This Sesshomaru is claiming you as his. It will take awhile.”

“Ah, okay—wait, what?”

He presses you closer to him, and you rest your head against his chest. While the feel of cooling cum usually is gross, the heat of his body keeps you warm and feeling full. His clawed fingers gradually begin to trail through you hair. After several minutes that seem to stretch into eons, the bond keeping you to him diminishes, and you shiver when you feel some of his spend trickle down your thigh.

Instead of the hard flesh inside you softening, however, it stays stiff. You still, glancing up at him to see his markings still vibrant, his red eyes glowing distinctly.

“Did you really think we were done, human? The Demon Lord of the West surely does not possess such a meager drive.”

—

The next morning, you come up with some half-assed excuse to Rin about why you’re wearing a kimono from the local seamstress, and not your usual outfit. And why you can’t seem to walk anymore, and Sesshomaru has to carry you everywhere.

“(Y/N) must have fallen and hurt themselves.” She giggles.

“Yes, Rin... on a very large... stick.” Sesshomaru’s claws dig into your backside in warning. “I mean—tree branch.”

“Silly (Y/N)! It’s a good thing Lord Sesshomaru is around to take care of you.”

(Meanwhile, Jaken has yet to be seen since he encountered the two of you this morning. He’s too busy cleansing his eyes and nose out in a lake.)

#sesshomaru x reader #inuyasha x reader #inuyasha imagine #sesshomaru imagine #tati writes #not sfw #kinktobruary

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transwicky · 9 months

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my agendas for the Check Please fandom in no particular order

Autistic!Tango

Trans!Tango

Genderqueer!Whiskey

Trans!Foxtrot

Entomologist!Tango

Johnson/Tango rarepair, complete with adopting a puppy together

Guy/Scraps rarepair

Trans!Ollie

The freshmen after the Waffles are called the Pancakes

#omgcp #tony tangredi #connor whisk #john johnson #guy check please #scraps check please #the metaphysical goalie #ollie omeara #imp chatters #denice ford

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lovelybrooke · 1 month

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It is I! ready to tackle stoles because he’s the easiest:) (in my opinion)

It’s established that stoles is.. lonely, especially growing up, he has influence and knows many people but he doesn’t have many friends, the only relationships he has is his sexual and somewhat romantic relationship with Blitzø and his love for his daughter, everyone else is an acquaintance.

So naturally he doesn’t want his daughter to have that life, and when he hears Octavia has a buddy he’s thrilled, and he somewhat likes the reader for it, he’s never met and might not get to meet them for awhile but based on what Octavia shared about the reader he’s pleased that they aren’t a bad influence.

Of course he allows Octavia to invite reader to their house, and the first time the reader arrives to hang out with Octavia, Stolas notices that the Imps dropping them off work for blitzø, this makes him trust the reader a little more, but also this causes Stolas to call Blitzø and talk (question) him about this mysterious human.

Now stolas isn’t full on interrogating Blitzø, even then Stolas notices how defensive Blitzø gets, but most importantly Blitzø swears he had nothing to do with this human entering hell. Of course after his conversation with Blitzø he gets curious about the reader’s situation and wants to investigate but he also values readers friendship with his daughter, and doesn’t want to scare them off.

Stolas likes the reader, they seem to greatly improve his daughters mood and is also extremely important to Blitzø, so this makes them someone important in his life, two people he cares for greatly loves them and so he wants the best for them, it also helps that the reader is a great guest (a skill they learned from Rosie and Alastor) as they’re well mannered and extremely respectful. Also sometimes Blitzø picks them up so that’s a bonus (he wants any excuse to see Blitzø)

As the reader shows up more to hang out with Octavia the more opportunity Stolas gets to talk to the reader. Usually the reader’s at the entrance waiting for Octavia and while they’re waiting Stolas might have a small conversation with them. Or another example during dinner (if the reader is staying at their house) stolas might converse with them. Also I picture Blitzø often calling stolas about the reader’s whereabouts and emotional and physical state as he isn’t there, and if Blitzø is ever drunk he’d likely go on personal tangents about how great the reader is to him and share things about the reader that might be private.

I think Stolas before meeting the reader fantasized having a family with Blitzø, but now that the reader is around, and is extremely important to the people he loves in his life, he starts to imagine the reader in the picture, and I think this is where he becomes obsessive.

He starts to think that the reader is tying his relationships together, he might think that the reader will be the person who helps Blitzø get with him. He starts to maybe misinterpret some of Blizø’s rare drunk rants in favor of the theory that the reader is somehow pushing the two together.

This delusion of the reader kinda builds up over time, I don’t ever expect it to just show up. But it’s also not like anyone notices he thinks this way, because the way he acts with the reader is pretty normal, there’s small chatter then Octavia shows up and drags the reader away.

Anyway that’s my interpretation I hope you like it :) and I’d also like to see you expand on anything/share your thoughts:):)

Have a lovely day/night :)

Yay, finally! I'm so happy you sent something in.

So I totally agree that Stolas doesn't want Octavia to have the same life that he had as a child, super lonely, neglectful parents. So when reader comes into her life he's super happy. He's definitely super overbearing and wants to know everything about her new friend. I don't think it comes from a place of protectiveness, but more from a place of just wanting to understand his daughter.

When reader finally comes over to hang out with Octavia, and he learns about their connection with the Imps, he's super intrigued and is constantly asking Blitzo how he knows you, which he never really answers. But this just makes Stolas even more interested in reader, both of his favorite people seem to like them so of course he does as well.

On the topic of Stolas learning about reader, I could totally see reader staying overnight with Octavia and eating dinner with them. Stolas is super excited and making sure everything is perfect for his daughter's dear friend, while Octavia is just super embarrassed. Reader doesn't even really mind because it's not often that an adult seems to care about them that much. While all this is happening Blitzo is just calling every 10 minutes to get an update on reader because he's super worried about them.

As time goes on, Stolas does start to have these fantasies of taking care of reader with Blitzo. I haven't talked about it much, but I think because Blitzo and Stolas are both parents of teenagers, they are kinda able to pick up on readers neglect and trauma in a way that Alastor and the other demons can't. So it could image Stolas wanting to give reader a better life, and it doesn't help that Blitzo seems to care about you just as much.

But liked you mentioned, most of Stolas's obsession is in his head. He might show some concern when you go out with Octavia or when you haven't shown up in a while, but he isn't ever overt with his feelings. However, he's constantly in delusions about reader and the life he could provide for them.

It makes him happy.

#yandere x reader #soft yandere #platonic yandere #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #yandere hazbin hotel #platonic yandere hazbin hotel

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sardonic-the-writer · 2 months

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𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝, 𝐁𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫

↳ warnings: mention of weapons

↳ song: smells blood—kensuke ushio

↳ notes: first hazbin one shot. reblogs are appreciated, and i love feedback

masterlist | commissions | carrd

You knew this had been coming for a while.

Angels had always been a problem for hell. The extermination was a day every sinner feared; the possibility that anyone could be singled out by those glowing white masks plagued the public's knowledge. And now that the time until the next one had been cut in half, windows were being boarded up tighter than usual.

No one knew what was waiting for them when they died a second time. Theories ran rampant—as they always did around this time. Talk of double hell or a void full of inky black circled around the pentagram city like water down a drain. Overloads and imps alike all locked their doors, somewhat content knowing that the possibility they would die was slim.

You, however, did not have that luxury.

Charlie Morningstar adjusted her amour awkwardly, standing in front of a sea of waiting eyes. Her knees felt like limp noodles, and she couldn’t stop sweating. The Hazbin Hotel behind her cast a looming presence over the small army she had gathered over the past few days, bathing sharp toothed grins in a giant shadow. You yourself were dressed for battle and standing next to the princess, and other members of the hotel stood in a loose line beside you, fanning out into a wonky semi-circle.

The gun in your hand gave a slight click as you messed with it, checking to make sure the chamber was loaded with enough ammunition. You gave a slight hum as the angelic bullets sparkled up at you from their place before you placing the magazine back in place. The discovery that the angels own weapons could kill them had been a bit ironic to you, and you had been the only one besides Alastor too laugh a little when you heard the news.

Charlie had begun a speech while you had been checking your gun. A small noise came from the back of your throat as you listened to it, occasionally giving her a slight smile when she’d lock eyes with you.

“Nervous?” You heard Angel whisper in the midst of Charlie detailing her gratitude. Glancing away from Charlie, only just now noticing that Vaggie had been keeping her hand on the small of her girlfriend’s back the entire time, you chuckled.

“Only about your questionable fashion statements.” You responded without much real emotion. Flicking at the top of Angels head, your finger came in contact with a little feather hat, and the spider caught it before it hit the ground. You just grinned as he gave you a mock glare.

“Hey! I’ll have you know that tiny hats are very in style!” His Brooklyn accent slurred his words comically.

“Sure thing.” You snickered, only quieting once Husk sent you a look from over Angel’s shoulder.

You yourself had forgone any niceties like Angel’s hat or Sir Pentious’s war uniform. You figured that if you died today, you’d want to do it how you always looked. With a reinforced chest plate curtesy of Carmilla Carmine, you supposed.

By the time you had finished, Charlies speech was wrapping up. Looking around, you noticed most of your companions had broken into soft smiles, shifting on their feet as Charlie addressed them specifically.

A cheer rose as she finished—from both the cannibals and hotel goers. You were among the latter, raising an arm with a yell as hats were tossed in the air in celebration. You must have been the only block in the entire city to be celebrating right now. In a weird way, that filled you with hope, although you’d never admit it.

“This better work.” Cherri Bomb scoffed. But she was smiling, and you noticed her arm was around Angels tall shoulders.

In fact, as you looked around, you noticed nearly everyone was glowing with anticipation. The stench of fear was prevalent as ever, but it was outmatched by friendly noogies and excited chatter. Nifty was bouncing around with a thin knife, cruel excitement filling her eye. Husk had a far away look in his eyes as he thumbed his deck of deadly cards, but it was a fond one. As if remembering a better time. Even you were more comfortable than usual, playing with the trigger on your gun as your eyes swept across everyone.

Alastor seemed to be the only one standing alone.

“Ready to face off against someone that’s an even bigger dick than you?” You asked him, referencing to the first man Adam with an appropriate amount of sarcasm.

The Radio Demon didn’t even so much as jump when you walked quietly up behind him. He instead rolled his shoulder back and twirled his cane around. You supposed he had heard you coming with those heightened deer ears of his—something you had pointed out as unfair multiple times. It’d come in handy today.

“My, such dirty language for this grave situation!” He glanced at you from the corner of his eye. Red eyes observed your every movement, and by now you had grown accustomed enough to his unsettling ways to return the look. You grinned at him mischievously, but only for a heartbeat.

“You sure your shield will work Alastor?” Your tone dipped into a lower tone of questioning now, testing the waters of how he was truly feeling. It was no secret to you that Alastor wore a smile to hide his true intentions, and it annoyed you how well it worked. So other methods had to be used in your favor. You found the most effective one was simply asking him what you wanted to know. Of course, he has lied to you plenty of time before, but you considered the situation unique enough for an honest answer

“Doubting me now of all times, dear?” He chuckled darkly. “A mistake I hope our enemies make.”

“Not in the least.” You looked away from his piercing gaze with the casualness of an old friend, and not someone that he could kill with a snap of his fingers. “Just cautious. Can’t be making mistakes today.”

Alastor said nothing more, but you had a feeling he agreed with you.

A sudden cry rolled through the crowed gathered in front of the hotel. You squared your shoulders as a call of ‘it’s coming!’ rang. From somewhere in the underfed of heads ready to dig into angelic flesh, you thought of Vaggie hugging her girlfriend one last time. You thought Sir Pentious nervously smiling at Cherrie Bomb, and you thought of Husk chuckling at Angel Dust’s antics. Even Alastor rose into the air from somewhere next to you, and onto the top of the hotel. A sign that it truly was about to begin.

With a cock of your gun and a tensing of your stance, you dug your heels into the dirt, looking up at the red clouds with a steely glint in your eye. You listened to the voices of friends and sinners and to the roaring in your ears. Memories of nights in your room here came to mind, and you held onto them like it was the last thing you’d ever do.

Then the sky opened up, and death itself poured from it.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x y/n #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor x y/n #charlie morningstar #vaggie #angel dust #husk #nifty #cherri bomb #sir pentious #x reader #one shot

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jovial-imp · 7 months

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castlevania nocturne good the reviewbombing is incorrect and mostly racist need part 2 pls

#imp chatter #castlevania nocturne

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emonydeborah · 7 months

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If the crew became kids

I doubt this is going to happen, especially because TNG already did it, but I would personally have such a great time.

An overarching theme would be Una's height because reasons, and because her talking to someone and suddenly having to look down at some child would be hilarious.

So some kidifying ray swept the ship, affecting them either one at a time or all at once.

Chris will not shut up about horses. He's swinging his legs on the biobed and chattering away. He accidentally interrupts and is so apologetic bc he never wants to be rude!!!! He wants to be friends!!! "Are we friends?" Spock has to look down at his captain/father figure and say "...yes. Chris." (Also Chris stares up at Una and says she's pretty bc he has more brains as a child than a grown man). He stares out at the stars with the biggest eyes.

Una the preteen is the same height as La'an and La'an is pretending not to be salty about it. They know she's Illyrian and she Freaks Out, and she and La'an have a talk about accepting themselves and not being defined by what others think that is more educational for La'an than for Una. What a gangly woman. She is out here constantly knocking things over, and the crew sees someone who had to grow into herself as much as anyone. Her default response is silence and big scared eyes but she can be tempted with some trivia. Erica spends hours showing her the flight controls.

Spock is a complete deadpan sassbucket and no one is prepared. the cute chubby cheeks. The bowlcut. His babysitters lose sight of him for sixty seconds and he disassembles a replicator because he heard a funny noise. Don't touch that. Why? *is touching it* They cannot make him believe he is in fact an adult and they're trying to fix him. "Mother says to find a mother with children and ask her for help if I get lost." Man asks Una for help because he's lost. Legend.

Uhura is such a little imp. Once she gets over being scared she disappears into the jeffries tubes. Her giggling echoes through the ship like the ghost of a demonic victorian child. Hemmer is down to let her roam but Una crawls in and drags her out. If any of the kids get a leash, it's Uhura. Erica distracts her with sweets. She needs to be occupied at all times or she will wander away.

Erica is the surliest eleven year old. Everyone expected her to be the easy child but she makes a point of being difficult. Una is tearing her hair out and Chris is like yes but have you considered. She is eleven. She's edgy and moody and everyone is like how did our Erica come from you. Una says she's the best pilot she's ever met and sits her at the helm and Erica stops her griping for a bit. She determinedly does not show interest but she does look at the buttons and subtly watch Jenna doing her job.

La'an has a lisp and sucks her thumb. Una insists she has to stay with her. For security reasons. Una has to go yell at people and La'an is holding her hand/on her hip the whole time. Everyone else is curious about little La'an but Una goes NO get your OWN. Little La'an wants hugs and cuddles and Una goes well if I must. For Starfleet. Chris does get custody for a while and he carries la'an around on his shoulders.

Christine and her big fat smart mouth. ackshually I read about this and you're wrong. Her sass is only matched by baby Spock. Grown Spock does not know how to handle it. This eight year old and her sassy little crossed arms leave everyone speechless with the sheer audacity. Joseph "don't touch that you'll break it" vs Christine "we use these at school all the time I know what to do" *breaks it* "... I didn't do that."

Joseph is the smiliest boy. He's having a great time. He follows Christine around and asks her about everything. Someone is in Sickbay with a sprained ankle or something and Joseph goes hmm. Looks like you're real sick. Do you have chicken soup here. He's the most charming little kid. Everything he does is cute. Everyone gets hugs and secret handshakes.

Hemmer, like Spock, takes stuff apart for the heck of it. Uhura tries to distract him by asking about Andoria and he could not care less. Man is tearing apart the EPS manifold and Uhura goes ...buddy let's not do that. Una says stop and he stops. All the deadpan blind jokes. Look away for two seconds and he is actively climbing into the warp core. What are you doing?!?!? Hemmer *shrugs*

Pelia is off like a shot all over the place. Talking a mile a minute. Young Pelia is such a foreign idea no one knows how to handle it. She's their wise old hermit and their wise old hermit is hanging upside down off the biobed. Now she's on the ground and her head hurts. Oh crap she's crying.

#snw #una chin riley #chris pike #spock #la'an noonien singh #pelia #nyota uhura #hemmer #erica ortegas #christine chapel #joseph m'benga #strange new worlds #snw au #for funsies #star trek

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danaewrites · 2 months

Text

Helmet Over Heels

part i: the winter of our discontent

din djarin x reader // read it on AO3

word count: 3.8k

summary: When your path literally collides with a beskar-covered Mandalorian one night, neither of you expect how that meeting will irreversibly change the trajectory of your lives.

You’re pulled into his powerful orbit, agreeing to take care of his son in exchange for adventure and freedom– when he’s not off hunting bounties and inadvertently saving villages in need, that is. It’s the perfect plan. Or it would be, if only your quiet crush on the man would stop growing into something more with every hour you spend together. There’s no way he’d ever feel the same, right?

And Din? Well, he’s been trying (and failing) to convince himself that he’s not completely helmet over heels for you since day one. But a Mandalorian can only repress his emotions for so long…

(This fic takes place sometime after Season 2. Din’s back on his bounty-hunting business with a Razor Crest that was never destroyed and an adorable green sidekick who won’t stop chewing on its wires.)

tags: strangers to friends to lovers, slow-ish burn, nicknames, touch-starved din djarin and fem!reader, canon-compliant through season 2 and then Jesus takes the wheel :P

author's notes:

hello and welcome to my first ever mando fic!! i binged the entirety of the first two seasons in a week to get me through tedious internship work and accidentally fell in love with our favorite space dad and his cute green child along the way. oops (i regret nothing)

with the outline i currently have for this fic, it’ll be around 11-12 chapters, although that’s likely to grow as we get deeper into the story. the posting schedule might be anywhere from once a week to once a month, but this wip *will* be finished.

the second chapter's scheduled to upload next week as a little treat for y'all, so if you want to catch it then hit that follow button or ask to be added to my taglist! ;)

read it all here: part i, part ii, part iii, part iv coming soon!

You watched the last of tonight’s drunken patrons stumble out of the cantina and into the bitter Nath night with a relieved sigh. Wiping your hands on the stained apron tied around your waist, you fished a set of bronze keys out of a tiny pocket and began your nightly walk around the perimeter of the bar, locking doors and pulling down rusty shutters as you went. The cantina was silent aside from your quiet shuffling– a welcome reprieve from its usual crowded bustle and chatter so hectic you could barely hear your own thoughts.

You hummed softly as you adjusted booths back to their original positions and swept crumbs off of battered tabletops, wishing that the small holospeaker at the edge of the room hadn’t been broken in a recent bar fight. Swaying to its pre-Imperial oldies throughout your long, exhausting shifts had been one of the only perks of working in this run-down cantina, but without the soothing ambience of music, a chill threatened to sink into your bones and paralyze you with the deep depression this side of the planet seemed to have succumbed to.

You never planned to stay here for as long as you had. No one really did, except for criminals who knew that no one would willingly come here to search for them and locals who had never known anything else. Nath might have been charming, once– all soft snowflakes and peaceful walks under sepia-toned streetlights– but that was before the Empire had destroyed every semblance of comfort and culture and replaced them with brutalist brick structures that were already crumbling under the weight of their makers’ crimes. The fear lingered long after the Imps had finally left the post, reflected in the sad eyes of the fishmongers’ children and the way one would be hard-pressed to find a factory worker who didn’t spend his nights nursing a bottle and the ghosts of blaster scars across his back.

You had your own scars, of course, but you still held out hope that things would change and you’d make it out of here– although that hope was gradually diminishing as off-world shuttles visited less and less frequently and the permanent winter worsened. Five years ago, you’d been unceremoniously dropped off at the town’s dingy port, forced to land after your shuttle to Corellia was damaged by an unexpected detour through an asteroid field. You’d taken the cantina job thinking you’d only stay long enough to pay for passage on an outgoing ship, but soon learned that any shuttle risking the terrible weather to land here would also charge an exorbitant boarding price– one that would take you years to afford with the meager pay you received. And your tentative plan of stowing away on a spice freighter and sneaking off once it arrived at its destination (you weren’t picky about where, so long as it wasn’t Nath) was tempered by the increasingly likelihood that you’d get blown to pieces the minute you entered space by one of the pirate gangs that ruled the atmosphere these days. So– you were stuck here, at least for now.

The smell of something burning in the back of the cantina drew you out of your thoughts. Cursing, you raced to the kitchen, where your dinner was quickly blackening on the stove. Kriff. You shut off the burner, staring at the charred mess before you for a few seconds before dejectedly scraping it into an almost-overflowing trash bin. Well, there went your plan to eat quickly and head to your tiny flat before the storm outside worsened. Your rental pod had barely enough space for your bed and a miniscule bathroom, so you had to use the cantina kitchen if you wanted to stay fed– but the stove here was so old, it took half an hour longer than usual to cook anything. You resigned yourself to another night sleeping in a booth, since the flurry outside would prevent you from navigating your way home safely.

You sliced up a few vegetables and set them to simmer in a pot with the last of the herbed broth and sandseed noodles from today’s lunch special, glancing at the bin next to you. It was probably a good idea to take out the foul-smelling waste before you were sealed in next to it all night. Wrinkling your nose at the unappealing scraps of food threatening to fall off the top of the pile, you hefted the bin up and maneuvered it through the back door of the cantina, being careful not to stain your apron any more than it already was. The harsh winds nipped at every sliver of exposed skin and dusted your hair with a pearlescent sheen of snow, making you wish you’d thought to slip on something warmer than your thin blouse and trousers before leaving the protection of the kitchen.

You navigated through the blizzard to the end of the dark alleyway behind the cantina, your path lit only by two buzzing lamps at each end of the narrow corridor. You scrunched your face up against the cold, willing yourself to keep walking despite your extremely limited night vision. Just a few more steps, and then you’d be free of your compostable burden for the night. You turned the corner, stepping to the left where you knew the trash compactor was, and immediately collided with a giant hunk of metal.

Said hunk of metal cursed loudly as it stumbled head-first over the garbage bin you’d dropped in shock after the impact, falling forward into the snow. “Dank ferrik!”

Your eyes grew wide as the glow of the flickering streetlights illuminated the very-much-alive Mandalorian lying in front of you. It was just your luck that you’d managed to potentially injure the kind of warrior you’d only heard about in hushed rumors, or at least someone who was wearing the armor of one. Okay, injure was a strong word, but all that cold, hard beskar couldn’t be very comfortable to fall on despite the protection it offered.

“Stars, I’m so sorry, let me–”

You reached forward, stretching out a hand to help the Mandalorian up when a small green head suddenly popped up out of a tawny bag slung across their side. You yelped in surprise, losing your balance on the icy road and toppling forward. You winced, bracing yourself and preparing for the inevitable impact– except right as you were about to hit the ground, one steel-clad arm shot out to grab your wrist while the other steadied your hips. You gasped at the warmth of the unexpected contact, pulse quickening as you stared at the–man? person?–beneath you, the only thing preventing you from a nasty collection of bruises appearing across your side tomorrow.

A deep baritone sounded from the helmet– likely modulated, from the slightly grainy tone. “Are you alright?”

Definitely a man, then. You pointedly ignored the butterflies that stirred to life in your stomach at the sound of his voice, praying that he would attribute your shiver to the cold and nothing more. Stars, this was getting more embarrassing by the minute. You tucked away the thought, making a note to do some serious soul-searching later on about the depth of your touch-starvation and its potential impact on your mental state.

You gave a quick nod, muttering your thanks and carefully rolling to the side as you dusted clumps of snow off of your trousers. You looked up at him to see him gently picking up the little green creature you’d been so startled by earlier and tucking it back into the bag, pulling his cloak over its head to shield it from the chill. That was… rather cute, actually. You thought Mandalorians were supposed to be scary fighters, dedicated to nothing but their Creed, but this one was clearly fond of the small thing clinging to him. You couldn’t blame him; the green creature’s big ears and bug eyes were adorably endearing.

The cold winds picked up pace, and you wondered why anyone would be out here during such a storm as you got to your feet. Anyone local would have sought shelter hours ago, and no freighter would dare to land in such conditions.

“Are you... lost?” You tentatively asked. “Can I help you find someone?”

The Mandalorian remained silent for several long seconds, helmet tilted slightly. Whatever he saw in your face seemed to have settled well with him, and he released a quiet huff through the modulator.

“I need to get food. For my son,” he eventually admitted, gesturing to the baby peeking up at you.

“Oh!” You brightened up considerably as you remembered the flavorful soup you’d started earlier. “Well– I work in a cantina back there,” you said, pointing behind you at the rusted door that led to the kitchen.

“We’re technically closed right now, but I’m sure I can work something out.” You winked at the curious child, smiling as he let out a happy babble.

The Mandalorian’s helmet hadn’t moved from its focus in your direction, and you suddenly felt nervous. Which seemed stupid, because–yeah, it felt intense, but was he even looking at you from behind the dark visor of his helmet? For all you knew, he was making the most ridiculous expression at you behind all that beskar and you’d never know. The absurd thought made you snicker softly. If no one could see your face, you’d definitely act goofy at people all the time.

The Mandalorian’s head tilted slightly, and whoops, he’d definitely noticed your little moment now if he hadn’t been paying attention before. Your face reddened and you quickly gestured for him to follow you as you unlocked the door to the kitchen, relieved when you heard the soft clink of his armor come through the doorway behind you.

You placed your hands on your hips, surveying the dimly lit cantina and deciding to lead the duo to a worn table close to the bar. It looked unassuming, but the chairs were the comfiest in the cantina and you figured the baby would appreciate something softer than the coarse bag he’d been in.

Once they’d gotten settled in, you set about finding a mug of blue milk for the kid and some water for the Mandalorian. You brought the drinks over to the pair, hiding a smile at how eagerly the little green baby reached for his.

“You’re pretty thirsty, huh?” You observed as the baby slurped up the cerulean beverage. Shooting the tall, beskar-clad man a glance out of the corner of your eye, you continued, “Must have been quite the trip. Most people don’t usually travel to this side of the galaxy for vacation.”

To your disappointment, the Mandalorian remained as still and stoic as ever. Well, that just wouldn’t do. He was your first visitor in years from anywhere outside of Nath, and you were absolutely not letting him leave without getting a bit of juicy detail on life outside of your current drudgery. You decided to go for another angle.

“You know, kids need good role models in their lives. Ones that show them how to socialize with others and communicate. Display generosity of the loquacious sort, even.” You shrugged innocently in your best attempt to mimic the overly casual air the old women at the tea shop always used before passive-aggressively attempting to set you up with their stay-at-home-nephews. “Never too late to start.”

You got the distinct feeling that he was laughing at you under that helmet. Rude. Huffing, you sat down across the table from him and crossed your arms, trying to guess where under his visor his eyes were. Once you were half-confident that you’d found the spot, you stared intensely at it with your most intimidating expression. Which wasn’t saying much, seeing as you had the firepower of a soggy Lothkitten and probably came off as more desperate than anything.

“Isn’t there some sort of honor code for Mandalorians? One that includes being noble to strangers and whatnot?”

No response. Argh.

“Well, I’d consider it pretty noble to provide a lonely soul such as myself with a bit of storytelling entertainment on this frigid evenin–”

Your final attempt at prying some information out of the armored man was interrupted by the sound of the kitchen timer beeping increasingly louder and louder until you were sure the whole cantina was vibrating with the tinny noise.

“KRIFF, not again!”

You bolted out of your seat towards the kitchen, but not before you heard a thinly disguised huff of amusement coming out of the modulator. Okay, he was definitely laughing at you.

Once you’d successfully saved the soup from imminent destruction-via-cursed-stove and somewhat regained your pride, you finally made your way back to the table with three steaming bowls of noodles. You placed the smallest one in front of the child, who cooed happily and immediately began plopping his hands in the bowl. The Mandalorian huffed in exasperation and began prying little green fingers out of the bowl. “Hey. Quit that, we talked about this,” he grumbled. You winced as broth sloshed out of the bowl, landing dangerously close to the baby’s tunic. The kid’s lower lip started to tremble, a blaring warning sign that a tantrum was going to occur in approximately ten seconds if he wasn’t distracted from his current petulant state.

“Oh– hey, bug, don’t do that,” you said as both father and son turned to look at you. You leaned closer to the wide-eyed baby and pointed to his bowl. “That’s pretty hard to scoop up, yeah? Look, there are easier ways to eat it,” you explained as you brought the bowl up to your lips and raised an eyebrow, hoping that he would do the same. The kid blinked up at you for several long seconds before turning to his father with outstretched hands. The Mandalorian sighed, but held up the dish as requested. You hid a smile behind your bowl at the sight.

“Good job! Okay, now we’re going to try something fun–” You mimed slurping up the soup with a silly face at the baby, who burbled something incomprehensible in response but finally followed your example and focused on his food.

When you were sure that the baby’s clothes were no longer in danger of being drenched by broth– and by extension, frozen stiff whenever the pair headed back into the storm–you quietly tucked into your own meal, closing your eyes at the warm memories the comforting flavours brought. Not for the first time, you missed the earthy smell and placid weather of your homeworld, a stark contrast to this icy prison of a planet.

“You are… good with him.”

Your eyes darted up to find the Mandalorian’s helmet angled directly at you. Your face heated at the observation and you gave a small laugh, willing yourself to resist fidgeting under his gaze.

“I– thank you, I’ve always liked kids. Used to volunteer in the nursery back home, actually, before the Empire stole every resource from it they could.”

Your eyes widened with sudden realization. “You’re not Imperial, are you?”

The Mandalorian scoffed vehemently, the most emotion he’d displayed since he’d fallen back in the alley. “No.”

Well, that answered a few questions at least. You were prepared to move on from the conversation when he hesitantly spoke, “My ship ran into a few… asteroids. Is there a mechanic nearby?”

You set down your spoon, thinking. The closest asteroid field was four solar systems away and almost entirely inaccessible if one was traveling through hyperspace, so the likelihood that he’d truly run into one was small. In that case, he probably had damage from some kind of fight— seeing as the average pacifist wouldn’t need that much armor— and would want someone reliable who wasn’t going to ask questions about laser-sized holes in his ship’s hull.

He hadn’t tried to kill or rob you yet, so you figured his personal tussles were none of your business and decided to give him an honest recommendation. You directed him to a small mechanical hub close to the ice huts where there were few ships and even fewer nosy citizens. “The owner, Sanna, is the best in town,” you admitted. “I haven’t had the chance to visit her personally, but she’s known for being very discreet.”

He nodded, entering the coordinates you’d given him into some sort of device on his wrist. You tried to contain your pleased expression at correctly guessing his reason for being on Nath. And it had only taken you… well, four tries, but that was better than nothing!

“What is your price?”

You blinked, confused. “My price?”

There was that increasingly frequent head tilt again. His helmet tipped forward, scanning you. “For the food. And information.” He clarified slowly.

“Oh,” you spoke, surprised. “It’s okay, I was making dinner for myself anyway. And you’d have found out the location of the mechanic from someone else eventually,” you shrugged.

You couldn’t see his face, but from the disbelieving tone of his voice you imagined his eyebrows to be raised. “Not many people would turn down credits.”

You winced, reminded of your costly dream to get off-world, but there was no way you’d accept this stranger’s money for such a small favor when he had a kid he needed to provide for. “Yeah, well. Guess I’m not most people,” you laughed sheepishly.

The Mandalorian muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like no, you definitely are not. You squinted at him accusingly.

“Hey, you better not be making fun of my interrogation tactics, metal man.” You leaned forward to poke his soup bowl emphatically. Hm, that was strange– he hadn’t so much as touched it. Did Mandalorians follow some kind of special diet? You resolved to look that up the next time you had access to a datapad.

“Wouldn’t dream of doing that to a lonely soul like yourself.” He responded dryly.

You gasped in mock offense, forgetting your previous train of thought and internally groaning that he’d remembered that part of your disastrous attempt to weasel information out of him. Yeesh. Not your most eloquent moment. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you cared,” you shot back in the most syrupy-sweet tone you could muster.

The kid grinned up at you with sharp teeth and blew a soupy bubble towards your face in response. You smiled down at him, adding, “But if you really want to repay me, then bring me back a good story about this little guy the next time you crash land through a— what did you call it? Asteroid field.” You highly doubted the duo would ever willingly return, but if making a deal gave this man peace of mind to know his imaginary debt was settled in some future way then so be it.

The lights in the cantina began to flicker and you got up with a frown, walking over to the electrical box behind the bar. The dull grey display, crammed with incomprehensibly labelled switches and flashing lights that would give anyone a headache, alerted you that the main generator had been depleted of power. You scrambled over to a window, prying open the shutters a crack only to be met with a dark swirl of snow that completely obscured your view of the street. Stars, the storm had worsened quickly— there was absolutely no chance you were making it home tonight. You slammed the shutter closed and turned around with a grimace that didn’t go unnoticed by the Mandalorian.

“What is it?” He questioned, modulated voice growing wary at the expression on your face.

“We’re running out of power, the main generator’s down from the storm so these lights are going to have to shut off soon. I think there’s enough in the emergency generator to heat the cantina through the night, though.” You hesitated, not sure how to break the bad news. “Unfortunately, the weather is— unmanageable. You’re not making it out of here to the mechanic’s until the blizzard lets up.”

He didn’t respond for a few seconds, so you continued talking. “I was.. planning on sleeping here tonight.” You muttered, trying to think of a plan. You glanced at the sleepy child resting on the Mandalorian’s beskar chest plate. “I usually keep a couple blankets here for that reason— pretty sure there’s enough to cover the baby, but you might need to be okay with sharing.”

You worried your bottom lip between your teeth, searching your memory for where the emergency supplies were kept. Kriff. How were you supposed to know that you’d be snowed in, and with guests no less? Your grumpy boss really should have put instructions for this type of situation in the closing shift directions instead of the usual “sweep the floors” or your personal favorite: “if the customer creates a corpse, they gotta clean it up themselves”.

The Mandalorian interrupted your musings with a firm, “No need,” gesturing to the charcoal cloak fastened around his pauldrons. You eyed it dubiously, but supposed that the material looked thick enough. That was probably to your benefit, anyway, since you were something of a notorious blanket hog and didn’t think he’d take kindly to having his sheets ripped off him in the dead of night. That seemed like a quick way to wake up with more bruises than you went to sleep with.

“Well— alright then,” you sighed at last, tossing the smaller of your blankets to the man and tucking the other into the side of a nearby booth. “I’ll shut off the lights in a moment. Refresher’s that way, if you need it,” you pointed to the end of a dimly lit hall. The Mandalorian nodded once, then returned his attention to carefully cocooning the child in his lap. You set to work fluffing up your own makeshift bed, folding the cleanest dishtowel you could find into a pillow before trudging over to the light switch and enveloping the room in darkness.

Quietly feeling your way back to your booth, your eyes adjusted to the pitch-black little by little. You pulled your hair out of its messy updo and curled up on the seat, body slowly relaxing. It was strange, hearing the muffled rhythm of breaths coming from lungs that weren’t your own, but oddly soothing in its own way.

“G’night,” you mumbled, half-asleep already, consciousness swirled down the psychological drain by the overpowering storm raging outside. The lull-and-hitch of the baby’s soft snores echoing off of solid beskar set you drifting off to sleep faster than you had as a child, so lost to the world that you were sure you dreamed the quiet, belated whisper that sounded back to you.

taglist: @magpiencrow @that-kid143 @lilly-aliyah @itmustbegreattobecalledtheitgirl

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read on: part ii, part iii, more coming soon!

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