#this seems like a ship where they could pull the absolute worst parts out of each other and i'm here for it

[tintinwrites]

say it somehow | Din Djarin x Reader

Request: “Maybe it’s the first time they have ever really been in a fight and they aren’t quite sure how to apologize after. Of course they do apologize. It can be as fluffy or smutty as you feel comfortable! Thank you so much! I appreciate it!” - Anon

A/N: I hope this is good for you! This is what came to my mind when I thought on this request…and there can absolutely be a smutty and/or fluffy part two where they finally really say what they mean :)

Rating: T

Warning: Canon-typical violence and injuries. Angst. Some naughty words.

Word Count: 2,664, apparently!!

Summary: You and Mando fight for the first time and apologize in your own ways.

GIF Credit: ^^^^

You knew Mando meant it when he told you to stay on the ship with the baby, but you saw how big the quarry was. You were there, in the cantina, and you saw with your own eyes that he was with a group of men that were just as large as him.

Mando was a skilled fighter who seemed to be able to get out of any situation barely harmed, but all you could imagine as you watched the baby sleep in his hammock was your companion getting smashed into the ground by several men who could snap him like a twig.

And it scared you. More than it should have, really, considering you were just his companion.

You knew that’s what he viewed you as; a glorified babysitter at best, a slight burden that he had to take with him at worst. He’d never treated you like the latter, yet the thought would creep into your mind when he had to get you food or help you in any way.

Not that he needed to help you that often. By no means were you as capable as him, but you had some combat training and you could easily hold your own. It’s just that everyone needed a helping hand at some point, and in your opinion, he was included in ‘everyone’.

He was more important to you than ‘everyone’.

You were moving before you could think, grabbing a blaster and making sure Grogu was secure inside the ship before you started the trek back to the cantina where you left Mando. Your heart was pounding so hard you could feel it as you considered the idea that you may be too late, that you were going to find nothing but empty armor and a still helmet.

You were half-relieved and half-terrified when you found them all outside of the small building; bulky, towering Mando, who had never looked so small before. His armor usually made him out to be so imposing, but not against these guys.

You ducked behind a forgotten landspeeder as you listened in, counting four men including the quarry himself. They were angry, yet calm. Telling Mando it would be in his best interest to keep walking and to let this one go.

Movement in your peripheral vision grabbed your attention and you saw a fifth man, just as big as the rest, sneaking quietly behind Mando.

They weren’t going to let him go without a scratch even if he gave up.

If you called out to warn him, the other men would pounce. If you tried to shoot the fifth man, it would likely end in the same result.

You took an idea from their book and started to sneak closer to the cantina, hiding behind landspeeders and crawling by dead bushes, pressing your back against the building when you made it there and slowly sliding across it behind the oaf. You saw a crate used for transporting goods turned over by a door, likely where the owner or their staff would sit to take a break, maybe to smoke some spice.

You reached for the small dagger you kept in a compartment under your pants before you put one foot on the crate, using it as momentum to fling yourself onto the giant man’s back with an unfortunately attention-grabbing cry.

The breath was knocked out of you as your chest hit a back so firm and muscled it was like running into a wall. You nearly slid off him, but you managed to wrap your arms around his thick neck.

Mando turned to look and stumbled back at the sight of the extra man, quickly pulling out his blaster and putting himself in a position where he could view all five of them.

Then he saw you. His helmet snapped up and you were sure he wasn’t thrilled, but you couldn’t think of it now.

You kept one arm around the man’s neck so you could use your free hand to sink the knife into his shoulder. He roared in pain and easily flung you off before you could pull your weapon out, sending you flying back.

All hell seemed to break loose as you slammed into the ground and slid a few feet back in the dirt, trying to press your hands into the dry soil to stop yourself from going further. Meanwhile, the other four men had descended upon Mando who was using his dodging skills and good aim to escape their hands and fists.

You didn’t stop until your back hit a stack of crates, which crashed to the ground all around you; all you could do was lift your arms above your head to keep from getting hit detrimentally, hissing in pain when the crates would smack your scraped palms.

When the rain of crates faltered and you could gather your bearings, you could see the man you attacked was stalking towards you. A glimpse behind him showed Mando had taken down the quarry, but was trapped in the grip of another.

The man before you ripped the dagger from his shoulder like it was nothing and you flinched at the accompanying squelch, stumbling over crates as you tried to move to your feet quickly.

Not quick enough. A hand gripped the back of your shirt and lifted you into the air, tossing you in the opposite direction where you landed a few feet away from Mando and the others. You heard him call your name, and looked over to see two of him and two of the man that was holding him, watching as he managed to ram his helmet back into his assailant’s chin.

He called your name again, this time as a warning, and you looked back to see a dagger coming towards you.

You rolled out of the way just in time for it to slice through your pants on your outer thigh, slicing you just enough for it to hurt like hell. It was better than having the blade in your thigh, though.

He made a swipe at your face and stumbled when you leaned out of his reach, giving you the opportunity to fumble with your blaster. You missed the first shot, but the second one hit him square in the face. He froze in place for just a moment before his shoulders slumped and the dagger fell from his limp grip, and he started to fall…toward you.

You squeaked and rolled away just in time for him to fall beside you with a loud thud. Two down, two to go.

Various parts of your body protested as you rolled onto your knees and staggered to your feet, finding Mando in a fight between the last two men. The one he’d hit had blood dripping down his chin, so you knew he would be a little disoriented. You decided to take him, as Mando gathered an insane amount of strength to flip the other onto the ground.

Two blaster bolts went off at once and then all was silent.

You smiled in relief and turned to go to Mando, but he swept past you to assess the quarry, presumably to see how he could get him back to the ship. “That was one hell of a fight, huh?”

He didn’t respond. Mando was quiet, but he usually didn’t ignore what you said unless it was some joke he couldn’t bear to admit was funny.

The air felt thick and awkward, and you were becoming acutely aware of all the parts on your body that hurt as you holstered your blaster. You stood for a moment, shifting on your feet, before you moved to help Mando with the body.

That was when he stood and you had to step back to make room for him, wanting the planet to swallow you whole for some reason as he just stared at you for a long moment. “I told you to stay on the ship.”

You blinked for a moment then raised an eyebrow. “Thank you so much for helping me take down five men twice my size, especially the one sneaking up on me. Oh, you’re welcome, Mando, it’s no trouble at all.”

He just sighed in a more frustrated way than you’d ever heard before and shook his head, turning his attention back to the quarry.

It felt…weird. He’d never been angry with you, not really. Annoyed, sure, but this quiet anger seemed to just be rolling off him. He wasn’t the type to get properly angry and neither were you, so you’d usually be calm and gentle with each other.

That was why you liked him so much. He never snapped at Grogu and he never lost his temper with you; it was attractive to you, just like his humor and his voice and all those other non-physical things he allowed you to know about him.

Only a few seconds ticked by, but you found your own anger blooming with each passing one, maybe because you were offended. Maybe because you were hurt.

Maybe because you looked up to him and admired him and wanted him to think of you, but he seemed to think you weren’t capable of holding your own.

“You clearly needed help and I’m perfectly capable of fighting, you know that. I’m not fragile.” You crossed your arms over your chest.

He was quiet for a moment, shoulders tense. “I didn’t say you were.”

“Oh, really? So you’re acting like a jerk because…why?”

He stood to his full height again and spun around to face you. “Remember that you travel with me. I gave you an order and you disobeyed me.”

Now your anger fully bloomed; is that what you were? A subordinate that he used for tasks he deemed small enough? “You’re not my superior!”

“If I tell you to do something, it’s probably in your best interest to listen.”

“You don’t know that! I didn’t listen this time and what happened? I kicked ass—”

“And you got hurt.”

You looked at your scraped palms and the bleeding gash showing through your pants, scoffing slightly. “So what? You get hurt all the time.”

“You got hurt,” he said again, tone different in a way you couldn’t read beyond your own anger.

“So what?!”

“It’s different.”

“How is it different?”

“It just is!” His voice was raised, not quite a yell, and he sighed again as if he was trying to back down.

You were too mad, shaking your head. “If it’s not because I’m incapable, then what is it? Everyone gets hurt, that doesn’t make me a bad fighter or something, so what is it?”

He didn’t answer and just stared at you for long enough that you turned in a huff, storming back to the ship. Your anger was quickly turning to tears and you managed not to cry until you were safely inside, staying quiet so as not to wake the baby.

You were so mad, but you weren’t really. You were hurt, assuming that his reasoning was because he just viewed you as a babysitter.

It was your fear, wasn’t it? Being very little to him when you thought so much of him.

You shook your head and wiped your tears away, grabbing the medkit so you could sit down and tend to your injuries. You cleaned your thigh and put a bacta patch on it first, wanting to stop the bleeding before you turned your attention to the more minor injuries.

The inevitable bruises on your body from hitting the ground would have to heal on their own, you supposed.

You were struggling to clean your hands when Mando appeared with the quarry, dumping the body out of sight before he returned. He crossed the length of the ship and tried to grab your wrist, but you yanked it out of his reach.

When he hesitated and tried again, you let him bring your hands closer if only because it was hard for you to take care of them since they were both hurt.

There was something extra gentle to his touch as he wiped dirt and blood from your hands, and you wonder if he felt guilty. His guilt in turn ate away at you for snapping at him like you did and now the air was tense again, but different.

He smoothed bacta gel over your palms and would slow down when you flinched or whimpered in pain. “I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

Now that you weren’t as angry, you could hear the things he didn’t say and the lilt in his tone. He meant that that was why he told you to stay because, while he knew you could fight, he didn’t like when you were hurt.

Some kind of warmth spread over you, the hope that he felt about you the same way you did about him.

Hope and guilt.

An apology seemed to get stuck on your tongue, wanting to tip over but too embarrassed to apologize to someone like Mando. You opened and closed your mouth a few times before you decided on, “I didn’t mean to be so angry.”

“I know.” He wrapped your hands to allow the bacta to work its magic. “And I know you’re capable. You did help.”

“I don’t like the thought of you being hurt either,” you said with these little hints of desperation and yearning and gentleness, unable to stop it like you stopped your apology.

You never knew what expressions he was making, but based on the tilt of his helmet, he seemed perplexed. Like no one had ever cared about him being hurt before and he thought it was strange, that it didn’t matter. “Thank you.”

He put everything back in the medkit and turned to put it away, but you grabbed onto his arm before he could move away. “I mean it.”

You weren’t sure why you wanted him to know so badly. Maybe just so he’d know he was cared for or so your feelings would be a little more implied.

Or you were hoping that he would say something too, something to tell you that you had a chance with this seemingly unattainable, untouchable, just-out-of-reach man.

His hand gripped onto your arm in return, but he said nothing. Unreadable, as always, but the squeeze of his fingers planting more seedlings of hope in you that maybe he just didn’t know how to say it. Just like neither of you seemed to know how to apologize.

You would have to communicate through a gentle touch here or a meaningful word there, too shy and awkward and frightened to dare to be fully honest. What if it wasn’t meant to be? What if one of you lost the other?

Is that what Mando meant deep down when he said he didn’t want you to be hurt? He didn’t like seeing you hurt, no, but maybe he was afraid to lose you.

That was why you couldn’t stop yourself from helping him, fearing that he’d gotten in over his head this time and that would be it.

His arm fell away, but your hand stayed in the air for a few moments before you lowered it into your lap. Feelings implied, but not confessed.

Part of you wanted to blurt out that you liked him as more than a companion and friend, another part of you wanted him to turn around and tell you the same thing, but you were both just silent.

Perhaps it was for the best. Maybe he didn’t feel the same way, or the two of you wouldn’t work out so you’d have to go your separate ways, or something in your wild lifestyle would tear you apart.

It was very likely that it could hurt you both to admit your feelings so it was best to just pretend you didn’t feel them at all.

But you did feel them, and keeping them to yourself hurt anyway.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin/reader #din djarin/you #the mandalorian fic #din djarin fic

[sylverstorms]

How the K/DA members react to their fans demanding a kiss on-stage:

Akali is hesitant, at first, but only for your sake. She turns to face you while the crowd endlessly chants your ‘ship’ name, making sure her fringe covers her searching gaze from the cameras. The same deep, ocean blues that shine like azurites underneath the glittery floodlights, that you absolutely cannot meet without your cheeks feeling like they’re bursting into flames. 

Whatever she sees in you during those stolen seconds must be enough for her, because the next heartbeat she has taken a brave step forward, warm hands cradling your jaw and neck like something utterly fragile and completely precious. The last thing you see is her faint, private smile drawing closer before you instinctively close your eyelids...

Just like that she’s kissing you. Slim, balmy lips caress your own, soft as cotton and far gentler than you could have ever imagined –and you did dare imagine this, during moments of weakness in lonely nights. She starts out slow, gives you time to relax into it before her mouth parts slightly against yours, asking for more. 

On one hand, you’ve already given much more than what your thirsty fans asked for. You should stop. You should, but… you feel her pull you closer, the tremble of her breath against your lips. And that does you in. The very tips of your tongues meet and move together for a heated, electric moment you both savor like fine wine, before you break apart, chuckling in embarrassment.

Gods above, your stomach is filled with butterflies. 

Seeing the red color dusting her beautiful face, you think maybe you’re not the only one who has them. 

Kai’sa hugs you easily –it’s almost a habit by now– at the end of the concert, yet turns beet-red the millisecond people start demanding you kiss. She steps back, refuses to meet your eye as the voices get louder, but you both know your fans will not stop until they are appeased. With a deep breath, you accept your fellow popstar is never going to make the first move, therefore the task falls onto you. 

You touch her waist gently, assuringly. Gorgeous violets shyly rise to meet your gaze. Surely, your eyes convey, a kiss between the two of you is not the end of the world. You always cuddle when watching movies with the group, you have fallen asleep in the same bed, once or twice. Both of you think the other is good-looking and there’s solid trust between you. This doesn’t have to be awkward.

Kai’sa seems to agree as she places one hand on your shoulder and the other finds yours. Your free palm slides to her side, caressing the bare skin at the cuts of her tight-fitting outfit. You lean in…

Her lips smell like peach gloss, you note before you kiss them. And –oh, she’s so soft and pliable against you. Everything about her is buttery sweetness. No wonder you cannot get enough. What was meant as a chaste peck turns into a legitimate liplock; you’re sucking on her lower lip and the worst –best?– part is that she seems in no rush to pull away.

A soft sound in the back of her throat snaps you out of the daze before your tongue slips into her mouth and this really gets out of control. 

Breaking apart under the sounds of endless cheers, red-faced, Kai’sa squeezes your hand tight. She does not let go. 

Ahri doesn’t seem fazed by the demand, nor did you expect her to be. Her bow-shaped, pink lips merely curve into a slow smile capable of charming the coldest of hearts, crystalline tails ever moving behind her in gentle, hypnotic waves. When she angles her torso towards you, reaches up with graceful fingers to guide her microphone out of the way, her intention clear, you forget what it means to breathe. Ahri fixes you with her smokey, endlessly blue eyes and crooks a finger. 

“Come to me, sweetheart.” she beckons. Still, you hesitate. Until she silently mouths “Don’t you trust me?”  

It isn’t her you don’t trust, it’s your body’s reactions to her. You are placed in a spot where you don’t exactly have a multitude of options, though, so you summon what is left of your courage and walk up to her. As soon as you step close, her arms rise to guide you into her. Her touch trails up your shoulders like water; one hand wraps around your neck, the other weaving through your hair to cup your nape.

“Don’t be afraid.” comes her gentle whisper, practically against the corner of your mouth.

When she kisses you, it is like every dream blossoms to life. Her vanilla scent, her sweet taste, the softness of her tails brushing your legs and sides, all feel like you’re floating, suspended between the clouds and heaven. Ahri’s thumb rolls in little circles underneath your ear and the whine you give has her smiling against you. 

Then her tongue licks over your bottom lip and you nearly die. The velvet trace of it over yours melts you in her arms. With a parting suck on your bottom lip she draws back, flashing the cameras a wink and a brilliant smile.

Meanwhile, her hand still caresses your neck, as if telling you to breathe. 

Uh-oh. That look is burning-hot trouble. It is the definition of eye-sex.

Evelynn already has her arm around your shoulders when the audience starts chanting for you to kiss. No way that’s happening, you muse with a shake of your head. Sadly for them, she doesn’t much care what others think, fans or media, nor does she aim to please anybody other than herself.

You make to extract yourself from her side, except… you find that her hold tightens. The diva turns to you, pins you in place with a liquid smirk and lidded amber eyes peeking above the rim of her mauve sunglasses… 

Your stomach plummets and shatters before she even traps your chin between a thumb and curled pointer, before the deadly sin that is her purple-glossed mouth descends on yours. Her full lips cover your own like smoke, taste like the sweetest poison you can’t help but drink in. Sounds are muted to your ears. Thoughts on your surroundings dissipate. You are in darkness; the only thing you are allowed to feel is her. 

Evelynn does not ask for permission to deepen the kiss; she just takes it. Her thumb guides your mouth slightly more open and then her tongue slithers in, rolling around your own while the fiery seal of her lips never breaks. Your knees nearly give out from underneath you. 

By the time she’s satisfied, pulling back, readjusting her mic with long, manicured fingers, you are left as shaken as a house after an earthquake. You do not hear whatever risque thing she says to the crowd, only feel her thumb wipe the lipstick mark off the corner of your mouth. You have half a mind not to turn into her touch.

Minutes later, you have almost managed to compose yourself. That is, until she leans in again, her breath hovering over your ear this time;

“Darling.” she drawls. “Shall we continue this at the hotel?”  

#league of legends #fanfiction #ahri x reader #akali x reader #kaisa x reader #evelynn x reader #kda ahri #kda akali #kda kai'sa #kda evelynn #lgbtq #riot games #creative writing #drabbles #kisses #SylverStorms #Of course I thrist of all of them #kda supremacy

[stormfirebeauty]

Still thinking about how Leo is the only one of the seven who doesn’t really have ties outside of the quest.

Hear me out. Percy and Piper both still have a solid human life to go back too. Annabeth too although I’d say she’s more tied to camp half blood.

Frank and and Hazel both really care about camp Jupiter despite not having been there long. Jason actually feels very closely tied to both camps which causes him conflict. He seems to think he doesn’t know where he belongs but he DOES feel connected to both places.

Leo though… he’s a BIT attached to camp half blood. Not as much as the others tho. I don’t have my copy of MoA rn so I can’t find text support but I’m pretty sure there’s a part in his POV where he talks about it too. He was at Bunker 9 significantly more than the camp. It’s actually so so impressive he manages to pull his irresponsible goofball act off as much as he does. Cause like this dude WORKED. He built an impossible magic ship in like six months. I’m pretty sure there’s a part where it’s mentioned even HE doesn’t totally understand the magic power my the ship. Bonkers.

So anyway he isn’t that connected to his human life (because it burned in a dumpster fire) and he’s not that connected to camp half blood. But WAY more than the rest of the 7 he is connected to this quest. He’s literally been dreaming about this ship since he was a kid that he would one day build for there people. I think the bonds between the seven could’ve been more built up in general but I gotta say Leo has some STRONG connections compared to the rest. Jason and piper are obvious that’s literally what I made this blog about years ago.

But the rest too. He doesn’t talk with Annabeth much but they do have this interesting relationship of ship builder/commander and quest leader also both being absolute geniuses. Like the only ones who can even Kind of keep up with each other there’s a lot of mutual respect (and fear he is a bit scared of her but that’s just smart). Percy and Leo are interesting bc in theory they have so much in common but one of the only deeepish conversations the have is about Calypso?? BUT his extreme guilt when Percy and Annabeth are in Tarturus bc he thinks he traded them for Frank and Hazel??

Yeah let’s talk about Frank and Hazel. I’m ignoring the love triangle bc I don’t care for it and it’s irrelevant to what I’m talking about. Hazel and Leo have the obvious connection of Leo grandfather being Sammy but ALSO the thing we don’t talk about enough is how both of the childhoods were defined by this quest more than anyone else. Gae interfered with both of them HEAVILY and they both suffered for it, AND carry huge amounts of guilt for what she manipulated them into doing.

And then one of the most underrated friendships that is Leo and Frank. Because Frank’s one weakness is fire and Leo IS FIRE. Like they are each others worst god damn fear. Leo REALLY fears the consequences of his destructive powers which is something he has to learn to work past and Frank really fears his mortality BECAUSE HE HAS TO CARRY IT AROUKD WITH HIM SO VALID. Trusting each other is like confronting those fears… (ok so maybe it wasn’t done that well in canon but that’s not the point).

ANYWAY what’s crazy is I don’t think anyone else really realizes this. Like Leo’s whole woo is me I’m the seventh wheel thing seems really self pitying but… you could argue that everyone on the ship was more invested in someone else on board and on their lives outside of the quest. Like, this is Leo’s life. And he’s their side character (i don’t think this is actually true at all for Jason and Piper but he doesn’t know that ugh). His character is so crazy to me.

#percy jackson #heroes of olympus #leo valdez #I haven’t read most of ToA so any of that is irrelevant to this analysis #my post #analysis #pjo analysis #hoo analysis #character analysis

[criminalamnesia]

Nothing Breaks Like A Heart

summary: she’s dead, and he’s grieving in his own way.

warnings: angst, hangman being an ass (but he’s sad ok), talks of death, denial, not proofread

author’s note: soooo like one person asked for this a while ago but here is a sequel to “Adore You” because I am evil. You can read “Adore You” here

“Jake…. Sorry…”

Those were the last words he heard from her before her plane crashed. His eyes had widened as shock and confusion overtook his mind. His hands gripped the throttle of his plane, flying on autopilot as he tried to convince himself that she was alright.

“Seresin, get your ass back to the ship! What do you think you’re doing?!”

Someone was screaming at him over the comms, but Jake barely heard them. He pushed his throttle forward– the plane shooting towards where he knew she had been.

He didn’t start focusing on his comms again until he saw a fighter zoom by, away from the fighting. Fanboy and Payback were leaving. Where was everyone else? Maverick? Rooster? His hands subconsciously eased up on the throttle, his fighter now sitting stationary in the air.

Jake furrowed his brows, his ears tuning back into the clamor happening over the radio.

“I’m going back for them. Maverick, Silver, and Bob are still out there. I’m not leaving them,” Rooster sounded determined, even as multiple pleas and orders for him to return to the ship yelled through the comms.

Rooster didn’t speak again after that. Jake assumed the worst, and knowing he was already in deep shit anyways– and that there was absolutely no way in hell that he was leaving her out there– he continued on his flight path towards the action.

By the time he got there, he spotted an old, beat up enemy F14 and another enemy plane, locked in a dogfight. Jake jumped right in, hoping just the slightest bit that she was in that F14.

He fired a missile, hitting the enemy dead on. With a wide grin he pulled up beside the F14, words already on his lips before he got a look at the pilots inside.

“This is your savior speaking,” he turned his head to look at the plane and his face instantly fell. She wasn’t there. It was Maverick and Rooster, who were laughing and thanking Hangman, but he barely heard them.

His mind numb, he followed Maverick and Rooster back towards the aircraft carrier. A crowd had gathered around their planes as each of the three pilots jumped out of the cockpits. Rooster and Maverick were grinning widely, embracing each other and whooping with glee.

Jake was quiet, climbing down slowly from his cockpit as he pushed his way towards the other men.

“Hangman! Thanks for saving our asses–” Rooster began, but Hangman waved him off, hurriedly changing the subject.

“Did you see her go down? Is she okay?”

Rooster’s brows furrowed as he shook his head. “I– things were crazy up there. I heard her say she was going down and then…. nothing.”

He clapped a hand onto Hangman’s shoulder, giving him a look of sympathy. Rooster was Silver’s friend, too. Inhaling deeply, Hangman nodded and let himself be pulled into Rooster for a short hug.

Maverick came up to them then, and as Jake stepped away from Rooster, Maverick threw an arm around his shoulders and steered him out of the crowd.

“Listen, I’m grateful for what you did. You saved our asses,” Maverick said with a small smile. It didn’t seem happy, Jake noted. It seemed sad.

“But that’s not all Cyclone sees. He also sees how you blatantly disobeyed orders, how you threw yourself headfirst into a fight you knew nothing about just because you cared about Silver–”

“I care about her,” Jake corrected him. Maverick gave a conceding nod. “Of course I care about her. She’s part of our team. No one was trying to see if she or Bob were alright. They could be dead for all we know, and you guys are celebrating while they’re stuck in enemy territory in who knows what condition?” His voice rose as he spoke, shaking Maverick’s arm from his shoulders as he rounded to face the older man.

Jake’s eyes narrowed as he shoved a finger into Maverick’s chest accusingly. “You were team leader, and you left them.”

Maverick exhaled, slowly shaking his head. “Jake, I didn’t have a choice– I went down, too. We were in deep shit and I couldn’t exactly land and start a manhunt for them in the middle of a life-or-death dogfight.”

“Bullshit! If it was Rooster that had crashed–”

“Jake,” Maverick raised his eyebrows. “Stop talking before you say something that you can’t take back.” He warned.

Jake scoffed and walked away, in the direction of the bridge and his inevitable reprimanding.

“Stupid!” Cyclone’s voice raised as he addressed the lieutenant before him. Jake stood stock-still, hands clasped behind his back as he stared at a spot right above Cyclone’s head. He had barely heard anything the Vice Admiral had said. He was still thinking about Silver and whether or not she’d been found yet.

“Stupid, yet brave,” Cyclone sighed heavily, leaning his hands against one of the ship’s control panels. He shook his head before looking back to Hangman. A short silence fell before Cyclone spoke again.

“Rescue’s been sent out. They’ll find them.”

Jake nodded. “Am I dismissed?”

Cyclone shut his eyes for a second before opening them, nodding at the lieutenant. “You’re dismissed.”

Jake left the room quickly, his mind reeling. It had been hours and rescue was just now being sent. He clenched his jaw, his fists balling up as he stalked towards his quarters. Luckily, there were only a few others inside the small space, either taking a quick nap or talking quietly amongst themselves. Jake ignored them all as he clambered into his bunk, closing his eyes and hoping, wishing, that she was okay. That whatever was between them wasn’t going to be ended that quickly. That he would get to know her, truly.

Rooster came to fetch him a while later. He took him outside onto the ship’s deck and pulled him to the side. Jake knew what was coming before the words even left Rooster’s mouth.

“They found them. Bob’s alright, a little scraped up, but he’ll be fine with some rest. Silver, she…” his voice cracked, a hand reaching to run through his hair as he struggled to speak the words. Speaking them would admit that this was real.

Jake nodded. “She’s dead.”

Rooster reluctantly nodded. Pain was evident on his face as he grasped the side railing of the ship. His knuckles were white as he looked out towards the waves. Jake could hear the distant sounds of the rescue helicopter’s blades whirring as it made its way back to the carrier.

“Yeah.. um, I’m gonna— I’m gonna go tell the others. I’m sorry, man. I know you two had a thing.” Rooster’s voice was soft as he placed a hand on Jake’s shoulder before he moved past him, leaving Jake to look over the ocean alone.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t cry. He didn’t curse her or the mission or any damn thing. He stood there silently, completely still, and looked at the distant waves.

The rescue helicopter landed too soon for Jake. As it powered down, a group gathered around it to embrace Bob as he clambered down from the helicopter. Jake stood off to the side, watching distantly as people cried and laughed. He watched Phoenix engulf Bob in a hug. He watched Maverick give Bob a pat on the back. He watched.

He watched as the group slowly disappeared as people went back to their stations or followed Bob as he made his way to the medbay. Now it was only Rooster, Maverick, and Jake watching the helicopter.

Jake approached now, his feet feeling too heavy as he slowly made his way to stand beside the two other men. Members of the rescue team were beginning to unload a gurney from the helicopter. Jake saw a piece of black material– and that’s when it became real. It was a body bag. She was in a body bag. He heard Rooster let out a choked sob as Jake turned.

He walked away, and he didn’t look back.

When they made it back to the mainland, her funeral was held too soon for Jake’s liking. It was another sign that this was real, and he was so desperately trying to avoid those signs. He was almost in denial, expecting to turn around and spot her, rolling her eyes at something he’d said.

He almost didn’t go. He didn’t want to be reminded of what had happened. But he did. He watched as they folded the flag and handed it to her sobbing mother and father. He watched as the coffin was lowered into the ground. He watched as her loved ones and teammates slowly left the grave, until he was the last one left.

“Damnit, Silver.” He whispered, kneeling down so that he was face to face with the white headstone. “You’ve always gotta beat me, huh?”

He sat there, falling silent as he thought. He didn’t even know why he was so affected by this– he hadn’t known her that deeply. He hadn’t been a close friend, like Rooster. He hadn’t been her backseater, like Bob. Hell, he was somewhat of an enemy to her until recently. Yet he was in almost absolute disrepair as he read the head stone over and over again.

Maybe it was because she was different. She wasn’t a fling, or a one night stand. He cared for her even though he hadn’t known her intimately for that long. She understood him; she challenged him. She called him out on his bullshit and wasn’t afraid to bite back. Ever since he had first met her, he’d been infatuated, and maybe that’s why he always had to tease her.

Maybe it was because he knew that she and he had shared something special, and that it was worth exploring, and it was taken too soon. Maybe it wouldn’t have worked out– but what if it had?

What if it had?

Jake wanted to kick himself. This wasn’t like him. He didn’t get hung up on women, but she was proving to be the exception. Even in death, she was the exception.

He stood and placed a hand on the top of the grave.

“Give ‘em hell, Silvs,” he whispered.

He turned then, walking away from the grave and what could’ve been.

#glen powell #hangman fanfiction #hangman seresin x reader #hangman x y/n #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x y/n #top gun #top gun maverick #angst with a sad ending #angst #character death #reader death #grieving #bradley rooster bradshaw #bob floyd #jake seresin fic #jake seresin angst #hangman angst #top gun maverick fic #top gun fic #pete maverick mitchell

[sabo-has-my-heart]

hey!! would you take a request for law / other op doctors dealing with stuff like toothaches? like a s/o who hates hates hates dentists and most medical things, but they end up with a cavity / toothache and what law would do in that situation?? idk i have this lil hc that he sees dentistry as a medical side quest of sorts lol, plus who else would the crew mates go to for toothaches and stuff u know??? idk dw if not i just thought it could be a sweet idea

So I actually had a bit of a harder time with this one so if you don't like it I deeply apologize. Ironically, I have a dentist appointment of my own on Monday, lol.

Warnings: dentists

Word Count: 980

     Law crossed his arms as he gave you a hard look. You’d been avoiding him again, or rather, you’d been avoiding his check-ups again. As a doctor, he did the entire ship’s medical check-ups, because of his medical background, he’d briefly looked into other types of doctor work such as optometry and dentistry in his free time or on those nights where he couldn’t sleep and was up all night. While dentistry wasn’t exactly his favorite area of work, he refused to let the crew’s health suffer, even if it was oral health. You, however, hated the dentist, well, you hated most things that involved a doctor, but dentists were the worst. The constant scraping of your teeth, feeling the metal picks stab at your gums, the taste of iron in your mouth when they bled. The taste of the polish or whatever it was that they put on your teeth towards the end, that water in your mouth that was always suctioned out because they told you not to swallow it. Everything about dentists sucked in your opinion, so you avoided it as much as possible. You’d go in for your yearly medical check ups if you absolutely had to. You’d go in if you had an injury bad enough to need more than a bandaid, but you’d avoid your dentist check ups like the plague. It was why you brushed so well and took such good care of your teeth, so that you wouldn’t have to see him for dental work. That being said, some things couldn’t be avoided completely. Sometimes, no matter how well you brushed, you would get toothaches or cavities, this was one such moment. Now you’d been avoiding Law as much as possible because you knew he’d notice, you knew he’d figure out what was wrong; though it seemed as if he’d figured it out anyway. Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose.

     “I keep telling you, you need-” “but I brush really well! You know that! The last check up, you said my teeth looked great!” you whined, cutting him off, not wanting to hear him lecturing you.

     “That doesn’t mean that you won’t have complications from time to time. It’s the same reason I give yearly check ups, to catch this early, so this doesn’t happen.” he said, lecturing you anyway. You looked away, crossing your arms as you did so. Part of you knew he was right, but that didn’t mean you had to like it. 

     “Come on, let’s get a look before it gets worse. I don’t want to have to sedate you and surgically remove the entire tooth.” he said, gesturing for you to follow him, something you did rather reluctantly. Sitting in the chair, you fidgeted as Law got things ready, setting out the various instruments that he’d need. Staring at the various metal pieces, you couldn’t help but cringe at the sight of the sharp metal pick that you knew you’d be feeling against your teeth. The scraping that you swore you could feel up into your brain, that felt like was scratching against your very mind. 

     After what felt like an eternity of Law scraping, sighing, and shaking his head, the normally stoic doctor pulled away, giving you another look. One that told you all you needed to know. He was going to tell you something was wrong, followed by another lecture.

     “Can… can we skip the lecture this time? I get it, I should have asked you to do this sooner, I’ll be… I’ll try to be better next time.” you pleaded, making the man sigh for probably the millionth time in the last hour.

     “Fine, but if this happens again, I make your yearly check ups madatory.” Law threatened, giving you a very serious, very hard look. At the moment, it was mostly something he suggested, something he preferred the crew to keep up on, but he didn’t enforce it. Meaning he was serious about this. Getting out the things he’d need, you cringed, you recognized what he was grabbing, you had a cavity. Despite your best efforts, you had a cavity. 

     “Don’t give me that look, Y/n. It’s just one, you’re fine.” he said as he had you open your mouth again. You swore you could feel him filing the cavity in the same way you could feel the scraping, the sensation making you want to squirm. You knew if you did, Law would scold you and tell you to sit still, but that didn’t really help, finding the whole process to be highly uncomfortable. Finally, finally, the man finished, setting his tools down and sitting upright.

     “There, you’re done.” Law said, pulling his mask down. You almost jumped out of the chair, moving your jaw as you tried to get the sensation of the dental tools out of your brain. As always, your mouth felt strange, but your teeth no longer hurt and you could escape, which was all that mattered to you right now as you started heading towards the door only to be stopped once more by Law, his hand around your wrist.

     “I mean it, Y/n. Don’t wait so long next time. I don’t like it when your health suffers when it can be easily avoided.” he said softly. You gave him a soft smile and nodded, he hated seeing you in pain or discomfort, especially when he was able to do something to fix it. Law placed a soft kiss to the top of your head, happy that you were feeling better. You couldn’t help but love moments like this, moments where it was just the two of you, moments where Law would show you how sweet he was. Even if the moment was being shared after the ‘torture’ of getting your teeth taken care of and standing next to all the dental instruments.

#one piece #one piece law #op law #trafalgar one piece #one piece trafalgar law #trafalgar law #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar d water law x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader

[hermitcrossovers]

So fun fact I'm currently avoiding doing my greek school work to write this haha

Anyways on to the other parts of the plot!

So Empires is another island, with nine ruling clans (I took out Pearl, Jimmy, and Gem's kingdoms due to plot). This is where most of the Emperors come from, they are the children of these leaders.

Pearl and Jimmy ended up on the island when Jimmy was thirteen and Pearl was fourteen. Jimmy had been sent by the Listeners, while Pearl had shipwrecked after escaping the Watchers.

Most of the Emperors are just kinda chilling. They're living their lives and learning how to hunt dragons and keep their island safe.

There's only one problem, the island has a history of sacrificing misbehaving children to a nearby island filled with the worst and most deadly dragons.

Everything changes when a masked figure starts attacking, claiming to control the deathgrippers. They say their name is Xornoth, and they know the secrets of the island.

Of course, they do. After all, Xornoth is the only surviving child who was sacrificed. They want revenge for their friends, and to get rid of their parents once and for all.

Oh, and they're Scott's older sibling. Scott doesn't know about this.

So, when Xornoth starts threatening Scott's island, he (very blind to the truth, because sheltered upbringings will do that to you) decides to leave and seek out somebody who could help. Jimmy offers to come along, and Scott says yes, because Jimmy could be useful, not at all because Scott has a crush on him. Totally.

They end up sailing for a few days, before being scooped up by Grian, who is overjoyed to see one of his old friends again. And to have somebody who isn't Scar around.

I should note this happens before Grian finds out BigB and Martyn are alive.

Now, meanwhile with the Crastle crew:

Cleo is about to pull her hair out, because why are they stuck with this gremlin of a teenager. All she wants to do is go home for once, not be stuck on this random island after getting blown off course in a storm.

Bdubs is having a great time! He's finally got another person on the island besides himself, and shes great! He swears he'll protect her forever, because she can get him off the island. It's been a long two years after all.

Impulse has zero idea what's going on. He and Tango were out looking for Skizz one minute, exploring an island and getting jumped on by a feral teenager and a redhead who has a knife the next. He's pretty sure he wants to go home.

Tango has given up trying to understand anything. He's just listening to Cleo and Bdubs argue about what to do with him and Impulse, so he offers to help them work on a ship in exchange for their freedom after the ship is built. That seems to work.

-------

I'm still working out most of the details but here's a list of dragons + the answer to your question:

Yes Evo is abandoned but sort of intact! However it's been pretty ravaged and needs a few years before most plants grow back, as a lightning storm that ended up making the forests catching fire happened shortly after the Watchers took and/or killed everybody.

Jimmy - a yellow razorwhip named Canary!

Scott - a red whispering death named Poppy

Bdubs - a snaptrapper named Mossy as a collective, and a terrible terror named Shrub

Cloe - a bonenapper named Bones, and she later gets a screaming death named Screamy

Impulse - a yellow and black windwalker named Ssvee

Tango - a rumblehorn named Ravager!

Joel - a pack of small shadows (you might notice I haven't done much with Joel yet, that's because I'm trying to figure out what he's even doing) - 🔮🐦 (magic bird anon)

I swear I had already answered this 💀💀

First off! The crastle vibes are on point, and Cleo with a bonenapper is just perfect, honestly I feel like she would absolutely gather bones to give to Bones lol.

Second... the empires guys are in for so much hurt, plus sailor Jimmy and Scot is now stuck in my head.

I love how you're weaving in the different servers together.

-Mod Jer

#hermitcraft #empires smp #how to train your dragon #grian #scott smajor #jimmy solidarity #xornoth #zombie cleo #bdubs #impulsesv #tangotek #skizzleman #magic bird anon

[veliseraptor]

For the ask meme, Xue Yang/Wei Wuxian??

I haven't thought about this one in a hot minute but I think I can still solidly say that this is one that I do ship I just also have a whole-ass time getting my head around making it work, which is really too bad. at some point maybe I will work it out but awfully enough it is easier for me to figure out how I would approach writing Xue Yang/Lan Wangji than it is for me to figure out how I would approach writing Xue Yang/Wei Wuxian, which seems wrong somehow.

but this is all beside the point and maybe answering this meme ask will help

What made you ship it?

I mean, the exchange in episode 10 of The Untamed went a long way toward selling me on it and their whole back and forth in the actual Yi City arc went the rest of the way, even if I had needed a nudge to get there what with the "two great tastes that taste great together" potential of it. Which I didn't, really.

What are your favorite things about the ship?

It's really the epitome of "they make each other worse" isn't it? Xue Yang is going to enable all of Wei Wuxian's absolute worst impulses. Wei Wuxian in the vicinity of Xue Yang in a situation where they're not immediately at odds is unlikely to be a good influence at all and very likely to just embrace (a) fucking around with dark powers, which I think has it's appeal for him beyond just necessity and (b) leaning into the tendency he does have for viciousness and vengefulness. I also don't think Wei Wuxian would hate having someone who very much thinks he's the best thing ever exactly as he is, warts and all, because it would both be the kind of unconditional acceptance that ultimately ends up coming from Lan Wangji, and also because it would appeal to his pride, particularly pre-death. The whole thing becomes a feedback loop of awful, I'm pretty sure.

Of course, this is assuming that both their lives take roughly the course that they do in canon, barring (again) the part where they're immediately at odds, either in CQL terms or in novel terms.

There is a universe where they end up on the same side of things later on, somehow, and I'm very interested in seeing how that pans out, actually. Maybe an instance where Lan Wangji dies somehow and Xue Yang uses "collaborating on mutual boyfriend resurrection" as leverage to get Wei Wuxian to work with him on his Xiao Xingchen-fixing project? Wei Wuxian would hate it and Xue Yang would feed on that as something he could fixate on to stay alive and motivated through the despair. And they could fuck about it.

I've had the vague shape of that one kicking around in my head for a while but I have absolutely no idea if I could write it.

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

Are there enough people shipping this to have unpopular opinions about it? Other than, probably, its existing and the fact that I am more inclined to want it in a way that pulls Wei Wuxian darker than I am in a way that would make Xue Yang "better." (Not that he needs to improve, he's perfect as he is.)

...you know, it occurs to me that while I don't like "dark versions of kind characters" as a trope, I do like "grey characters who are made nastier around specific people." That's good shit.

#conversating #anonymous #xuexian #xue yang #wei wuxian #ship opinions meme #okay i think this is the last one #thanks for playing guys!!!

[chocobothis]

With a busted theory and dislike for writing for things as they're currently airing, I'm back harder on my "Barriss gets her nuanced character exploration while working toward accepting her own redemption is possible" Shit.

Is this partially because I want to write Alijah and Barriss Banter? Absolutely.

It'd be so easy to give them a little series of vaguely related ficlets. The two of them (plus rotating extras) fighting against the Galaxy. But, also healing and reforging their connection to the Force and each other. It's not like being initiates or padawans anymore. That ship has sailed, burnt, and sank. Still there's little bits where they once got along and get along again.

Barriss' fighting style seemed to be strongest when she was someone else. It's something with saw with Luminara when fighting with Barriss; she was lacking. Alijah's excellent at saber work. Retraining with her works well and they're together.

Alijah's connection with the Force is still painful. She feels so much with and because of it. Her talents are focused around healing, mind things, and the basics. She gets a tiny bit of Force Visions but they're not useful? There's small snippets with no context. Barriss gives me the impression she's well connected with the Force. Even with it being a broken bond she help.

(Also, having to fight Inquisitior!Barriss is literally what pulled Alijah back to using a lightsaber and the Force.)

There's comparing and contrasting them with each other and then with Ahsoka. All three of them had shifting relationships with the Jedi Order. But, Ahsoka's relationship to the Force stayed positive. Barriss' soured to the point of darkness and Alijah spent years ignoring it entirely. Using the Force saved nothing. Ahsoka also moved quickly into the Rebellion. Alijah avoided it and Barriss...well Barriss sure did pick things.

I also have a detailed ultimately, Dark Side Cult Alijah was born into and grew up around until 6. When she looks at Barriss she sees what she could have been if no one saved her. It makes her want save Barriss more. No, she doesn't have trauma at all about feeling like she failed Depa, Caleb, and the Order by surviving. She knows what it's like to look in the mirror and feel like the worst parts of yourself are looking back to mock you. People have told her that her Force Sensitivity/Jedi Potential made her a corrupted villain by being. Frankly, helping Barriss learn to care for herself and reintegrate into existing helps her do the same.

I haven't fully sorted out why Barriss did what she did. Part of what I think happened does involve the Shitty Sith Vibes Sidious was leeching into the air. The fact she tried to fame Ahsoka is also suspicious to me. She had complete anonymity and could've had anyone but it was Ahsoka. Someone Anakin Skywalker cares deeply about to dangerous extremes. (And it was Ventress she stole sabers from.) It feels like it could've been subtle suggestions via the Force that got pushed to her by Sidious. They preyed on the doubts she had about the Order because of the war. Also the sheer amount of trauma she experienced during said war. She lashes out, freaks out because she lashed out, and it sprails. The deeper she gets the more she tells herself there's no going back. If she stops now it'll be for nothing.

(I also find "Dying Equals Redemption" to be bland. You fucked up, no matter how well intended or not, so you can actively work to unfuck it.)

I'm admittedly not fond that that's the story line they picked for Barriss. I think it was both weak and sus af. It was also quickly tossed aside with no information or conclusion. But, I do have a writer's hubris with a deep love for Star Wars; so, I want to make it make some sense.

We also get Reunion Scenes with Barriss and Ahsoka because they deserve this.

#star wars #alijah kastor #barriss offee #ramblings #i'll make something happen

[indigowallbreaker]

Baltholst anon here! Though I'm requesting a different ship this time. XD Marianne and Claude for the hand-holding prompts, "grabbing the other's hand to show them something." Thank you if you decide to pick it up!

Baltholst anon beloved!! Happy to see yah again :D

(Currently accepting rare ships! Click here for an UPDATED info post!)

--

Marianne looked upon the flower with unease. It wasn't the flower's fault-- its purple and pink petals stirred in the breeze with well-deserved innocence. Marianne tried to come up with something insightful to say about it, but to no avail.

The Riegan Estate gardens boasted many beautiful flowers. Objectively, it was quite a lovely place. Right by the sea but protected from the worst of the wind by clean white walls, well maintained by a dozen or so gardeners, popular with painters and the children of visiting nobility. With the war heating up, however, there were few taking the time to visit such places. The recent fight on the Great Bridge of Myrddin had apparently reminded the people of the Alliance that they weren't as safe as they might have first thought. Today the gardens were empty but for Marianne and her partner.

Claude gave Marianne's hand a squeeze before tugging her towards a row of rose bushes. "You might like these better. They're bred to bloom faster and stay open longer. My grandfather explained it to me but I'll admit I don't understand it much."

"I've liked all the flowers so far," Marianne said even as she let Claude pull her along.

"Are you sure?" Claude pressed, a worried tilt to his voice. "You don't really seem to be enjoying yourself."

Marianne reached out to caress one of the rose petals. Apart from the roses perhaps being a bit larger, she couldn't see anything unique about these compared to normal rose bushes. "I'm not sure what this has to do with the war." Marianne's hand dropped and she turned to look at Claude, wondering what she had missed. What part could the Riegan gardens have to play in this conflict that he was hoping she would see?

Her confusion only deepened when Claude gave a nervous laugh. "They don't have anything to do with the war?"

"They don't?"

"No?" Claude scratched his chin, his normally easy smile turning strange. "But they do have something to do with a date."

"A date?" Marianne repeated. "So this-- We're on a date?"

"Not a very good one if you didn't realize it," Claude said with that same laugh.

"O-Oh..." Marianne lowered her head. The leaves on the rose bush looked smaller to her than they should be.

Claude squeezed her hand again. "Hey, don't be like that. I should have been clearer." His tone took on a teasing note as he added, "I just figured you kissing me when we went riding that once time meant you might like a date at some point."

Marianne's cheeks burned at the memory. The two of them had been paired up for a scouting mission soon after the Empire had attacked Garreg Mach, and something about the near-death experience had caused Marianne to act... improper.

Now she felt silly for trying to find war clues in a rose bush. A date, a date with Claude, sounded wonderful.

Squeezing Claude's hand in return, Marianne lifted her head and tried for a smile. "Do you want to try again? Dating, I mean."

Claude brightened. "Absolutely. And we have plenty of time-- it'll be a few more weeks until the Alliance lords figure out how many troops to send us."

"I meant right now."

"Now? Uh, sure! Where did you want to go?"

Marianne giggled and began pulling Claude towards the wrought iron gates. "To the beginning. Show me everything again so I can appreciate all the flowers properly."

The grin that took over Claude's face caused Marianne's own smile to widen. The lords could take their time as far as she was concerned-- Marianne wanted to fit in as many dates as possible while she still could.

#fire emblem three houses #marianne von edmund #claude von riegan #mariclaude #balthost anon #if i may be so bold as to name you lol #rare pair run

[milksluice]

This was done for the 30 Days of Doing Shipping Wrong meme: "They are the worst possible thing to happen to each other" ship.

Above is their meetcute. I'm not even going to cheapen this post by pointing out that the second image down on the right is how Peter looks when he's saying to Tom, "I heard you were desperate to come." And the third image down, on the left, is how he looks when he's saying, "I was rather looking forward to rowing you around."

It's always good to remember this: Peter stands in the light. While Tom stands in the dark.

But here's Peter, welcoming Tom into his world. And Tom, being immensely good at reading the cards in other people's hands, knows that if he acts like the little bird with the broken wing, that Peter will be absolutely helpless to come to his rescue. That he'll keep the bird within the palms of his hands, and guard it well.

See, pretending to be weak, around someone who can become quite protective, means wielding a power over that person far greater than if one were to approach someone such as Peter, as a man of power. Luckily for Tom, he's exactly the type of person that people don't mind being over-powered by (knowingly or not). At least for people such as Peter, Meredith, and myself.

Peter, unfortunately, places himself on the chopping block when he brings up the rumor that Tom may have been killed. I think that Tom is even a little offended that after he put so much work into Dickie's letter to Tom, and that in general, anyone could believe that Dickie could possibly kill him. Him, whom Dickie loves. Like a 'brother'. And for a moment, Tom seems like he might lose his cool, but then he smiles, nervously, and Peter restores their balance by saying the idea of it is absolutely ridiculous.

More insight on the light vs. dark issue in costuming, as well as more insight into what goes into Tom portraying himself as vulnerable.

And though Peter welcomed Tom into his light-bound, open arms, Tom has immediately pulled Peter into the dark underbelly, where he now lives.

Here's the thing. Tom is just a person. He may be... more or less evil, but he is just a person. However, his life depends on whether or not he can fool everyone into believing that he's done nothing wrong. So when he cracks in front of Peter - when he shows that fear cropping up because they've sent for someone from Rome (someone who might know him as Dickie) - I'd like to think it's because there's this part of Tom that just feels so comfortable with Peter. Now, who wouldn't? Peter is nurturing and caring, and genuinely kind. But for Tom to break in front of Peter for even a moment, without the threat of killing Peter after. I think it's somewhat special. He's showing his fear in a normal human capacity, which begs for comfort. Comfort from Peter.

Here, you see that Tom is actually quite good at understanding Italian. That he answered is a slip, a mistake because he's nervous. It reaffirms that the language barrier was a part of feigning his broken wing.

From here, Peter takes Tom's charming smile, and then translates throughout the rest of the conversation.

I'm afraid I must admit. There is one part of Tom I still haven't quite figured out after all these years. I suppose Tom thought it would make him look more guilty to admit that he has homosexual desires. And you see his denial throughout practically the entire movie - I guess because some people just aren't ready to admit who they are. Tom, especially. But it always seemed like the least of his problems... In any case, he says no. In front of Peter no less, who seems to take the answer to be one striving for privacy, rather than truth. Because he is not pleased with the question, himself. In fact, he makes a quip to lighten the mood, and put Tom at ease. It never even comes up later, which I think is especially sweet of Peter. He just takes Tom's wishes in stride.

But let me not wax on about how adorable Peter is with Tom. Because this is supposed to be why this ship is all wrong. And god is it wrong.

Then Tom ignores the way Peter tries to swaddle him, and tells Peter a lie - to lie for him, and say that he has a fiance. Which, I think, Peter is surprised to hear, and perhaps a little hurt, though he continually goes with the flow of things. But yet again, he never forces the subject later on. He respects Tom too much to do so. Or perhaps considers Tom too fragile. Either way, it is for Tom's sake.

I'd like to say that I find it interesting that, here, Tom chooses not to lie. No. He did not kill Freddie and then Dickie.

By asking Peter, frantically, to ask if the Inspector is accusing him, he is begging Peter to place himself in front of Tom, to protect him again. The very reason he brought Peter with him. He's merely putting on a show.

That's when the Inspector pulls out the letter Tom wrote in Dickie's name.

Here, I couldn't say for sure. I feel that Peter's expression, upon finding out it's a 'suicide note' is one of anger, and of disbelief. Anger, perhaps for Tom, for the same reasons Tom expresses as he shouts afterward. And disbelief because all the time he's known Dickie... he'd never kill himself. Or that's what he thought, anyway. I think it's probably a little of both. Which can be confusing, contradicting, and cloud the mind a little.

Now, this scene is arguably everyone's favorite.

I think I'll mainly let it speak for itself. It starts with the fact that Peter shows what is, conceivably, sympathy for someone who may have killed. A situation which Tom, himself, is in, and perhaps expects not to be sympathized with at all. And Tom, despite everything, feels like he can divulge certain pieces of truth to Peter, that to anyone else, he would hide.

He makes him feel human. Not like a demon.

But of course... If Peter needs a whole building to hide his sins, then how big of a space must Tom's take up? So Tom has to fish for some more reassurance. And it may seems as if Tom is just playing, acting, again, but there's a buried, harsh, and painful truth beneath the words he says.

The sadness, the longing in Tom's eyes - was never a lie.

It honestly disturbs Tom, I think, that Peter allows Tom to feel... loved, and genuinely accepted. Not 'allows him', actually, but forces the love upon him. Something Tom has denied himself, possibly forever, and which will cause the greatest feeling of loss and utter self-hatred that Tom will ever feel. Meanwhile, he nearly convinces Peter that Peter is his One, which lulls Peter into a sense of false hope. A sense of trusting, and the future of being together, close and loved.

May I reiterate? Peter is the light.

But if Peter is the light, and Tom is the dark - and if Tom lets the light in, to conquer the dark...

This is mostly just because I'm in love with the song here. Here is a version done by a Slovak philharmonic orchestra and choir, with a translation of the gorgeous lyrics.

There is one lyric of the song which says: Lord, have mercy on him [the guilty man to be judged]. Not only is Peter in the 'choir' asking for this; he is at the center of it. Looking down at Tom. The song then goes on to say: Grant them [presumably those whom the guilty man caused harm] eternal rest. Stating that they would only have rest, not if the guilty man were judged, but if he were judged mercifully.

At this unspecified moment in time, Peter has already fallen completely for Tom. And perhaps Tom, Peter.

I'd like to think this is a full representation of them in the after life. Tom comes in, below Peter leading a choir of angels, pleading with the Lord to grant Tom mercy. And Peter looks down, and sees him, and Tom smiles, and waves, and Peter smiles, and then turns back to the Lord while Tom watches in utter awe at the fact that someone is rooting for him. For him.

Excuse me while I cry over both of their smiles as Peter says he and Tom found each other.

I feel quite bad for Marge. It's a bit like throwing her into the lion's den. But Peter is stupidly proud of Tom so... He doesn't even realize what he's doing. I mean... Seriously, do you see how much Peter's cheeks are bulging from his smile after Tom says Peter found the place for him? Just... I think from this point on I'm going to disintegrate into unintelligible sounds.

"It's better than trying to squeeze into my room." Somehow I doubt Tom would agree, if it were him.

Of course, Marge goes on to be a startling reminder of who Tom really is.

The funny thing is (it's not funny) that Tom will act weak in front of Peter in order to gain his protection, but when he could truly use some protection and comfort, he becomes shy about it, and refuses Peter's warmth. Much to Peter's disappointment. And Tom's, I guarantee you. Okay, so he refuses to a point. And then they make bedroom eyes at each other and I want to kill myself.

It's Marge who's shaking and crying in his arms, but Peter wants to know if Tom is okay.

My insufficient theory on why it was Peter who Tom was thinking about when he was in the bath. Worrying about, even. Wanting. Romantically. Sort of. Maybe.

This scene would have been much better if Peter had kissed Tom's forehead at the end. Still, it's sweet how he gently rubs the bandage on.

NOPE. I may actually vomit in a moment.

This is the end. As soon as it sinks in that someone is calling Dickie's name; the end is coming.

"Are you alone?" he asks, with dim hope, and his heart in his throat.

And that's when he knows. He shakes his head, almost imperceptibly. His world is crashing down...

I actually hate everything. Fucking shit, I did not want to cry while doing this... But I'm here to do a job - oh look, Tom's mouth is fucking turned down I wonder the fuck why.

The way his voice wavers over 'good'.

I can't breathe. Which is fitting.

The destruction, the panic I feel from seeing one strip of cloth. I fucking...

He is, in fact, so panicked himself, that he slips up again, calling himself Dickie. He becomes dissociative. If he's Dickie, he's not in love with Peter, and this won't hurt, what he's about to do. But Peter corrects him, and there's nothing left to do. But the thing is... Tom no longer exists. At least, in a few minutes, he won't.

At least this ends with my favorite line.

I might definitely vomit.

More impressions on the - situation.

And here is another, prettier picspam.

#suicide mention #vomit mention #ship manifesto #the talented mr. ripley #tom ripley #peter smith-kingsley #peter/tom #picspam #gay #major character death #canonical character death #strangulation tw

[gaelic-symphony]

New Fic Alert!

If you've read any of my writing, you know I absolutely LOVE episode/canon rewrites focused on female characters and wlw ships! Since I have already rewritten seasons 8-9 and 11-15 of Criminal Minds, it would seem that the time has come for me to tackle seasons 2-7. And so I will (hopefully) be posting the first chapter of my newest work, Gravitational Constant, sometime this month. It's an Emily-centric canon-adjacent story with plenty of Jemily angst and Jormily fluff! Look below the cut for a summary and a sneak preview, and let me know if you want to be tagged when I start posting!

Gravitational Constant

Emily and JJ are not meant to be, but they orbit each other like satellites.  Over the years, they blur the lines between friendship and romance, always finding some reason not to take the plunge and be something more.  Their connection to each other blossoms through highs and lows, births and deaths, joys and heartbreaks.  Emily and JJ are not meant to be, but they can’t deny the force that keeps pulling them back together.

            Emily Prentiss tugged nervously at her blazer and sat up a little straighter as she looked around the Section Chief’s office.  Section Chief Erin Strauss was a middle-aged blonde woman with a stern, detached, perfectly composed demeanor that reminded Emily of her mother, but that wasn’t the only thing that made her anxious to earn Strauss’ approval.  This interview with the Section Chief was the last hurdle before she could join the FBI’s elite Behavioral Analysis Unit.

            “Your file is certainly impressive, Agent Prentiss,” Strauss said, “I see you were posted to Interpol for three years…but then you spent the past year working a desk job in the Chicago field office.  That’s an interesting career move.”

            “After my last Interpol assignment I needed a change,” Emily said, “I needed some time to process and decompress, and working a desk was good for that.  But now, I’m ready to get back in the field.  I think I’d do well in the BAU.”

            “Well, you’re certainly highly qualified.”

            “Thank you.”

            “Some might say over-qualified…”

            “Ma’am?”

            “Well, with your skillset, you could go anywhere,” Strauss said, “Why do you want the BAU so badly?”

            “I need a job where I know that I’m helping people,” Emily replied honestly, “I need to know that what I do every day is actually saving lives and making a difference.  The BAU profiles and catches some of the worst offenders out there.  The work they do is important.  It’s noble.  I would be honored to be a part of that work.”

            “I think you know how competitive these openings in the BAU are.”

            “Yes, ma’am.”

            “We want to make sure we get the Bureau’s best and brightest in this unit,” Strauss continued, “Especially now.  The BAU has had a bit of an…unexpected turnover.  I’ll be keeping an eye on the entire unit, not just you.”

            “Does that mean…”

            “You will report to Agent Hotchner on Monday morning,” Strauss said, “Congratulations, Agent Prentiss.  You’re now a member of the BAU.”

#fanfiction #criminal minds #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #jemily #jordan todd #jormily

[mixelation]

tipsy opinion: tell me how you feel about dramione

Eeeeh, neutral LMAO. I like "villain"/main girl ships BUT I'm not a big fan of Draco in the later books. IMHO teenaged!Draco in canon is not the suave bad boy he is in fanon, so if I want to enjoy Dramione it either has to be REALLY GOOD or I have to be in a mood where I can ignore that characters are OOC. ;)

But I'm not, you know, opposed to the concept?

#this seems like a ship where they could pull the absolute worst parts out of each other and i'm here for it #....in theory #this isn't a ship i really look up on my own lol #uh FULL DISCLAIMER here that this is just my PERSONAL PREFERENCE and you are allowed to like & ship whatever #....also these asks are from last night and i'm not longer tipsy lol

[forever-rogue]

Douse the Lights

A/N: I have no excuse for this, except I love one (1) Din Djarin and he deserves this and so do we. Enjoy! A little Happy New Year gift from me to you! As always, comments and feedback are welcomed! xx

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: SMUT (18+ only) - oral (m and f receiving), unprotected PiV, choking, degradation, creampie...filth. This is just filth. 

STUTTER SOMETHING PROFOUND (PART 2)

THE MANDALORIAN MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Then stop kriffing staring at me.”

“I wasn’t even looking in your direction.”

“You,” with a sharp turn of your head you saw that he wasn’t even near you. Nope. Not at all. 

Kriff. Awkward.

“Lothcat got your tongue, Princess?” you’d never seen his face, but Maker, you just knew there was a wicked smirk on it.

“Just mind your own business,” stowing away your clean blasters with a huff, you prayed with all your might that he couldn’t see the flush of warmth on your face or hear the crack in your voice. You hated him. Everything about him.

At least you wanted to; you would have given anything in the galaxy to. It would make constantly being around the Mandalorian that you called your employer a lot easier. 

Maybe if you kept repeating it yourself, you would manifest it to become true. That you could hate that annoying, half-witted, tin can. 

“Thought that’s what I was doing,” there was the most minute inkling of amusement in his voice as he came over, lithe and silent - ever the hunter. He was at your side in an instant, the warmth of his body contrasting sharply with the cool metal of the beskar as he sent shivers up and down your spine. Along with the low pooling of heat and desire settling in your belly, but you were going to ignore that for now.

Almost as if he knew the effect he had on you, he made it a point to brush a gloved hand over yours as he nudged you to the side to inspect some of the weapons he’d tasked you with cleaning. You had to be quick in order to shut your mouth and keep a small whimper from escaping your lips. 

How long had it been since someone last touched you? Maker, it had been….dank farrik. It had been way too long. A simple hand brush - there wasn’t even skin to skin contact - and you felt like a lothcat in heat. You really needed to get...some company and have your frustrations taken out or surely you would explode. There was no way you were to give Mando the satisfaction of knowing the type of hold he seemed to possess over you. 

Perhaps once you were out of this more than awkward conversation you could slip out for a few hours and seek some pleasure. The little one had just gone down for a nap a short bit ago, and he was likely to be out for some time. Surely he wouldn’t have a problem for a few hours. Then you could -

“These are still dirty,” was his voice always that rough and low? He had to be doing it on purpose, surely. Before you could contemplate it too much, he took one of the blasters and shoved it back into your hands. Not rough or gentle, but with enough firmness to remind that he was in charge. You looked it over and raised your eyebrows as you inspected it yourself - it was polished to an almost pristine shine, “clean them again. All of them.”

“What the fuck, Mando,” you scoffed with indignation as you rolled your eyes at him, shoving the blaster right into of the black T of his visor. You waved it almost as if to prove your point, “this is clean. I dare you to find a cleaner blaster in this Maker forsaken galaxy.”

He was quick to your grab your wrist, his grip was firm as he kept your hand from moving. You didn’t normally argue with your stoic and mysterious employer, but this was apparently new and uncharted territory. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but there was a shift between the two of you, something had changed. The tension in the air was palpable, so thick you could cut it with the dullest of knives as you stared back at him. 

“Clean it again,” it was a growl that went straight to your cunt as you subconsciously clenched your thighs at the sound. Either this was a one time deal that you would commit to memory or you were going to make it a point to annoy him more often. As he stared you down, he slowly let go of your wrist and pointed at the discarded cleaning rag, “and make sure its actually clean this time.”

“You are the worst,” you tried to retain the little bit of composure that you had remaining as you swiped the blaster back.

“And you are a brat,” brat. Brat. Brat. Brat. Of all the words available in all of the galaxy, he had to choose that one. This was absolutely on purpose. The Mandalorian never did anything without careful planning and calculating the risks. The same could be said with his words; this was all carefully and deliberately chosen. He cocked his head to the side, almost as if trying to gauge your reaction, “but here we are. Get them clean.”

“Or what?” it was a mere pathetic squeak as found yourself almost unable to meet his face.

“Just get it done.”

Without another word he strode away, as silent and dangerous as he was when he first came in. If you were stronger, if you weren’t a weak little fool, you would have looked away and focused on your work. 

But no. Not today.

Instead you watched him go, staring shamelessly at his imposing figure as he moved to disappear back into the cockpit to do whatever it was that he did. 

Was his ass always that nice? Were those thighs always so strong and sturdy? Was he always so damn broad and wide? 

Shit. 

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” you hissed at yourself as you picked the rag back up and slammed yourself back down on the bench in order to re-clean all the weapons that you had just done. He wanted clean weapons? You’d give him the cleanest blasters he’d ever seen. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

Almost an hour had crept by when you’d finished your second round of cleaning. At this point you honestly didn’t care if the Mandalorian deemed the job satisfactory or not. The longer you had ruminated on his words, the more frustrated you became. 

Each word, each touch seemed burned into your mind as you let your imagination take over. You’d be lying if you said you’d never thought about him before. There had been a number of sleepless nights when you imagined it had been his hand between your thighs, his fingers running through your slick folds before they slipped inside of you. On nights when you really couldn't help yourself, you even imagined it was his cock, how he would feel buried to the hilt inside of you. You wondered what he would be like, but something - this day in particular - told that he was big. And he would get the job done.

But it wasn’t going to happen. 

Nope. No. Nah. You were just his sidekick little employee that most definitely was not going to act on any impulsive or rash decisions. You might have been a lot of things, including a huge fool in that moment, but you weren’t that stupid. You didn’t need to create some unnecessary strain in your relationship with the stoic warrior or even worse, lose your job and home and be left stranded in a forgotten corner of the galaxy. 

Even as you tried to rationalize all the ways in which acting on your impulses was a horrible idea, the frustration and the throbbing between your legs didn't wane. You were getting so desperate and pathetically needy that you sat on the edge of your small bench just at the angle so you could get a little bit of friction on your clit. Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic.

As you rocked back and forth, trying to keep the little mewls and whines from slipping past your lips, you realized you couldn't do this.

You couldn't risk getting caught by the Mandalorian. Oh yes, everything's fine, just getting myself off. Don't worry, I'm super horny because of you. Yeah of course I'd love your cock.

Yeah. Cool, cool, cool. This would never happen. 

Just when you before you reached your breaking point and had your hands halfway to your soaked core, you stopped. 

"Kriff," you sighed to yourself as you pulled your hand back out and stood up. What the actual fuck had gotten into you? A few commanding words you were completely losing your control. Either you were desperate for a release from something other than your own hand or you craved the mysterious Mandalorian. 

Hastily stashing the impeccably clean blasters back into the weapons cache, you discarded the rag as you quickly came up with a plan. 

Tiptoeing quietly back to where the little one was sleeping, you sneaked a peek and saw that he was still fast asleep. He wouldn't even notice you were gone - that's what you tried to convince yourself as you delicately touched his soft ears and button nose. 

You weren't sure if you were speaking of the Mandalorian or the baby. At this point you really didn't care. 

You glanced back at the ladder towards the cockpit, watching almost as if you expected him to come down and catch you sneaking out. Hells, technically he'd know as soon as you left the ship. You scrawled a quick note telling him that you needed a cleaner or something, in your haste you couldn't even remember what you put, and would need to go to the market.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. That was totally plausible, you insisted to calm your own nerves as you slipped on your boots and a cloak before making your final decision to leave. Attempting to be as quiet and subtle as possible, you slowly made your way off the Crest and started scurrying towards the nearby desolate town of Mos Eisley. In reality you looked more like a scrap rat scurrying away from the light than a woman heading into town to find something. 

Whatever.

Mos Eisley wasn’t exactly known for its sparkling reputation, and you were sure you could get exactly what you wanted quickly enough. In and out, you thought to yourself as a flush rose in your check, well precisely that. For at least you were hoping. 

But the Mandalorian, a seasoned hunter with a reputation for a reason, and didn’t miss a single trick. He was aware of what you were doing before you even left the cargo hold. If he was this frustrated and turned on you by you, his cock hard and straining against the confines of his pants, he was sure you must have been in the same position. 

Oh, but he had been close to breaking, just like you. How easy it would have been to seal the hatch to the cockpit and relieve himself of the desire and ache. But no - just like you he had limits and wasn’t about to give in and stroke his hard cock while you were within earshot. No matter times he had imagined it - fucking your mouth or burying himself deep between your luscious heat before pounding you into oblivion, he wasn’t going to give in this easily. 

He wasn’t a virgin by any means, but with your little backtalk and the way you had looked at him with those wide doe eyes and pretty pouted lips sure had him feeling like one. The thought of burying himself inside you, to watch as you bounced on his cock with your tits in his face was enough to make up his mind. 

One time couldn’t hurt, right? People had casual encounters all the time.Why should this one be any different? If you were willing of course, although judging by how your pupils had dilated with each word from his mouth, had little doubt you felt the same way; but consent of course was key. 

And tomorrow? You’d be back to being the same way you had always been.

Hopefully. Maybe. Probably.

Fuck.

This was a bad idea, and the small, sensible part remaining in his brain told him so. But he was too far in, too deep and lost in his own desires to stop himself. 

He was watched as you ran away, deciding to wait until you were halfway to Mos Eisley before going after you. He’d take the kid to Pelli, sure she’d more than happy to watch him for the night. The rest? That was to be all consumed by you. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

The old cantina was dirty, dingy, and smelly. There was no doubt in your mind it must have been at least a decade since it was cleaned, and yet it still remained a hot spot; granted not for those of politer society, but enough to get the job down.  You pushed that to the back of your mind as you clambered through the crowd and to the bar, sitting down next to a handsome Zabrak you had spied when you’d walked in. You’d never been with one his kind before, but you’d heard rumors of them, especially when it came to their prowess behind closed doors, and something within you was piqued. 

He must have sensed something was up - as soon as you sat down, he motioned for the bartender to come back and bring the two of you a new round. 

“You’re new here,” he said gruffly, a dangerous edge to his voice, sharp like a knife as he took one of the luminescent drinks and shoved the other towards you.

Before you could even move to grab your drink or utter so much as a word in response, a hand darted and quickly grabbed your wrist, the grip biting and firm. 

“She’s mine,” the words washed over you before you could even turn to look at the Mandalorian. His chest was rising and falling heavy as his visor was trained on your would be companion for the night. A shudder ran up your spine as he pulled you off the stool, the two men glaring at each wordlessly. 

He pulled you behind him, storming out of the cantina as the crowds parted at the sight of the gleaming silver beskar. They knew better than to stand in the way of the Mandalorian. You felt like a child being scolded as he refused to acknowledge you, keeping his gaze trained straight as you struggled to keep up with his long strides. 

“What the hell, Mando?” your question was an indignant shout as your voice climbed an octave. His grip didn’t waver for a moment as he grunted in his response. Oh, he was mad. Yup. Definitely. You had fucked up. 

Any thought of talking back or prodding him further were estopped as you could see him fuming as he dragged your ass back to the Crest. 

This was it, you realized. This was the end where he would fire you and send you packing. Of all the places in the galaxy to be stranded, Tatooine was not one of your top destinations. No one to blame but yourself, you reckoned. 

Instead you hung your head as he refused to look back, making quick work of opening the cargo hold and shoving you inside. There was something about his touch that was rough, almost sending you falling to your ass, but there was still an odd gentleness.

You stared back at the blank visor in challenge, attempting to figure out what was going on. His chest was rising and falling rapidly as he stared back at you. Neither of you were about to get a good read on each other. 

“Did you really think it was a good idea to just walk away without saying anything?” his voice was dangerously low as he crossed his arms over his chest and glared at you. You opened and closed your mouth a few times as you tried to come up with either a smart response or an excuse but instead of anything coherent, it was a mixture of the two. Great. Now he's going to think you were an idiot on top of everything else. 

“I didn’t...just um...doesn’t matter what you...I needed something from the market?” you swallowed the lump on your throat as you dropped your gaze to the floor. He sighed for a moment - heavily - as you’d come to know was his penchant to do. 

“You needed something from the market?” it wasn’t a question so much as an accusation.

“Mhmm.”

“What was it?”

“C-cleaner,” you lied. Somehow it sounded better than saying yeah, I really just wanted a quick fuck because you have me feeling some type of way. 

“There's a new cleaner right in the cabinet,” he said as you internally groaned. He was right - there was a brand new gleaming bottle on the top shelf. He’d gotten some last week, “or did you conveniently forget that?”

“Umm,” you couldn’t get anything else out as he took a step closer and left minimal distance between your bodies. He reached up and put a hand under your chin, turning your face up to meet his, “uh huh.”

“Uh huh, honey,” his voice warmed you up from inside out as you gave him an innocent look. If he hadn’t known what he was doing earlier, he certainly did now. And he was going to milk every second of it, to push this as far as it would go. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, a subconscious gesture, but not unnoticed by the Mandalorian. His hand slipped from your chin and jaw and slid until he was gently holding your throat. His grip was light, and he was barely squeezing, but Maker, you wished he was, “is that really what you were going to do?”

“Y-yeah,” how much longer were you going to keep up this little facade? You had no clue. But the feel of his hand around your airway, pushing slightly, ever so slightly, had your mind positively reeling.

“Then why did you go to that filthy old cantina?” he leaned closer, his helmet mere inches from your face as you closed your eyes, the blood rushing to your ears as you the heat pooled in your belly, “why were you talking to Zabrak? Did you really think he was going to fuck you? To make you feel good?”

“Mhmm,” you managed to murmur after a few beats of silence as you realized what was happening. This was new, uncharted territory - for the both of you - and if you went any further, there would be no going back. And you - fuck it. Your eyes snapped open as you turned to look into the visor, right where his eyes would be, “needed someone to do it, since you never would.” 

And there it was - finally out in the open and hanging thickly between the two of you. All you could ever was a small huff from under the helmet and you were positive he was smirking like a victorious predator.

“Is that what you want, honey?” he asked and you nodded. Give and take and then...it all broke, “get on your knees. Now.”

And you wasted no time sinking onto the cool metal floor, now level with his cock, where you could see the hardness straining against his rough fabric. Shaky fingers worked to hastily pop the button and pull the zipper, but just before you could get to what you wanted, Din roughly grabbed jaw, turning your face up to his, “you take what I give. Yeah?”

“Yes,” you promised, feeling yourself grow wetter and wetter with each word. But then, with another gentle tap to your chin, he seemed almost...gentle, “Mando?”

“If you don’t want this, just say stop,” he waited for you to nod as you a sense of warmth fluttered over you at his desire for consent, “I will not be gentle, I will not-”

“Give it to me then,” you beamed at him before turning back to his cock and pulling out of his underwear. You almost moaned at the sight of his cock, hard and leaking already; and just as your little fantasies had led you to believe, he was more than adequate. 

Spitting into your palm, you took him in your hand, pumping him a few times before licking the head, just small light licks, just enough to tease. Licking a stripe up his shaft, you played with his balls for a moment, earning what you were sure was a small groan from under the helmet. Making it a point to draw it out, you shouldn’t have been surprised when his hand went to the back of your head as he pushed you onto his cock. 

A sound of surprise was muffled by his cock as you took all of him into your mouth, doing your best not to gag as he hit the back of your throat and your nose brushed against the soft curls of hair at his base. Your hands slid up his thighs and found purchase on his hips as he began to fuck your mouth. He started slowly at first, almost as if he was afraid to give too much. When you grew accustomed to him, making it a point to hollow your cheeks and suck him as best as you could, he picked up the pace. And it was brutal in all the best ways, spit was starting to run down your chin along with a few tears that had spilled over, but if nothing else, it worked to spur him on. 

“Look at you,” he grunted between thrusts as he took in the sight in front of him, “take me so well. Knew your big mouth had to be good for something. Always wanted to fuck that pretty face.”

You hummed in delight as you raked your nails over the exposed slivers of his skin on his hips, golden and delicious and you wanted it all. His thrusts slowly become more erratic and sloppy as he twitched in your mouth. His hand dropped from the back of your head as you took over and put a hand back on his shaft as you worked to finish him off. 

Soon enough he did, followed by an almost primal growl as he came, his hot, thick, cum coating your mouth and you eagerly swallowed all that he offered, which unsurprisingly, was a lot. As his breathing slowed down and he slowly came down from the rush of his high, you pulled back from him, looking up at him with innocent eyes and a wicked smile. You cleaned him off, but just as you went to wipe at your mouth, his gloved hand was faster and he collected the spit and cum that had spilled out and pushed it back into your mouth with two fingers. You grabbed his wrist and made a show of sucking his fingers clean, tasting him along with the worn leather of his gloves. 

“Good girl,” he praised before hoisting you to your feet, “strip.”

“What about you?” you turned your head to the side, but he shook his head in response. He paused for a moment, almost as if he was having second thoughts, but just quickly, he whipped off his gloves and tossed them onto the floor before putting a hand on your cheek and stroking it tenderly. You swallowed thickly before nodding and working to pull off your clothes. 

First was your shirt, tugging slowly over your chest and tossed down to join the gloves. Your arm went to your back as you tugged off your bra, letting the straps fall down your shoulders as an almost nervous breath escaped your lips. 

“Keep going,��� he commanded, eyes trained slowly on you as he drank in the sight of you. You undid your own zipper and pulled your pants and panties down in one fluid motion before kicking them off along with your boots and socks. You’d never felt more vulnerable or exposed in that moment, wanting to cover up but also relishing in the fact that you seemed to have rendered the Mandalorian speechless. He looked you up down, not bothering to hide the fact as he looked at your form, glancing at your soft mound before your breasts and then landing back on your face.

Beckoning for you to come closer with a simple crook of his fingers, you did so, standing directly in front of him. His hand flitted from your cheek and down your body before resting at the apex of your thighs. You gasped lightly in surprise as he dragged his fingers through your soaked folds, coating them in your copious arousal, before chuckling darkly. A hand immediately went to his shoulder as you steadied yourself and tried not to completely lose it at the simple touch, “all of this for me, honey?”

“Mhmm,” you admitted as he gently rubbed over your clit, teasingly in the slowest, most tantalizing way possible. Before you could stop yourself you blurted out, “always think about you. Always get so wet.”

He made a small, noncommittal sound as he pulled his fingers away from your wetness and brought them to your lips. He tapped your bottom lip and you opened your mouth, sucked his fingers clean from your own arousal, “I’ve thought about fucking you too. That mouth, that pussy. You’re such a brat, but you drive me crazy.”

“I like when you get mad,” you said as he pulled his fingers out of your mouth, “‘s sexy.”

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice deeper and lower than ever before, and you felt your knees start to buckle at the sheer sex it exuded, He brought his large, warm hands to your tits, touching over your pebbled nipples as you bit back a moan. While you wished it his mouth on them instead, this touch was just as well, as he massaged them, trying to get a good feel of them and seeing what drew out those sweet mewls from you. But before you could enjoy it too much, one hand gripped your waist like a vice and the other went between your legs. He ran his thick fingers through your folds, before slowly inserting one into your wet heat. You moaned as he slowly inserted another and then a third, stuffing you full and already having you seeing stars in no time, “make yourself cum.”

“What?” your eyes snapped open as he stilled his actions, “you’re joking, right?”

“Nope,” he popped the p loudly as he lightly teased your clit, eyes boring into yours, “you act like a brat and you want to cum? You have to work for it.”

“You can’t be serious,” you groaned as he moved to pull his hand away, as if to show you just how serious he was. This time, you caught his wrist and held him in place. He chuckled lightly in triumph as one of your hands returned to his shoulder for balance and the other went to play with your sensitive bundle of nerves. He held completely still, a practiced and patient man, as he made you work for it. He wasn’t kidding by any means when he said he would not be gentle. 

He remained quiet, watching your pretty face shift through a range of expressions as you worked to reach your own high. He was glad for the helmet, for if you had been watching him, you’d have seen the tinge of pink rising in his cheeks as the sight of you fucking yourself on his fingers. He’d envisioned this many times, no doubt about that, but he’d never thought it would become a reality. Maker, you were gorgeous as you thrust onto his hand using him for your own pleasure a string of gentle filth spilled from your lips as you rubbed slow circles onto your clit.

“Mandooo,” it was soft as you felt that familiar blinding haze start to take over you, and your toes involuntarily curled and your cunt started to clench around his fingers. Your eyes fluttered closed in pleasure as your vision turned blurry and that familiar warmth started to spread all over your limbs. He felt his cock twitch from where he had tucked himself back in after you’d pleasured him. Before you could finish though, something different met your ears.

“Din,” he said as bit your lip in order to keep from crying out completely, “my name is Din.”

And there it was. Completely unexpected and out of the blue. It wasn’t just a name - no it was so much more than it. It was a sign of trust, of closeness, of the fact that whatever this little situation was, it was neither the first or only time something like this would happen. No, your story with Mando may have come to an abrupt end, but your relationship with Din was just beginning.

It was almost as his name, uttered softly and almost unsurely, was exactly what you needed to push you over the edge as you came around his fingers. A soft moan left your lips along with the sweetest sound he was sure he’d ever heard, “Din.”

A merciful man when he chose to be, he took over for you and worked you through your orgasm as you almost collapsed into his arms, “there you are pretty girl. You did so well, fucking yourself on my fingers.”

“Not enough,” you rested your against the soft cowl of his neck as he pulled his hand from you, but not before slapping your ass a few times, almost as if testing to see how far he could push you. You made a few sounds of delight at the sting, only spurring him on as he slapped and then gently needed the ample flesh of your backside, “please, need you to fuck me.”

“Is that what you need, pretty girl?” he purred in your ear as he pulled back and grabbed your face in his hands, taking in the already blissed out expression on your features, “you want me to fuck you? Think you’re ready for my cock?”

“Yes,” you were practically ready to beg at this point, “I’ve been wanting it for so long.”

At your words, he almost dragged you to the small bed that was reserved for you in the corner and motioned for you to sit. You watched with eager eyes as he scrambled for the waistband of his pants and hastily pulled them down and kicked them off, letting them join your discarded clothes. He practically ripped off the rest of the beskar until he was bared in front of you, save for the helmet. His cock was already painfully hard again, standing at attention and leaking fat drops of precum.

“Can I trust you?” he asked as you nodded, understanding exactly what he meant. You’d never questioned the fact that you’d never seen his face or that he apparently just never showed it to anyone. You respected him and his decisions, and you’d never dare to push the envelope or destroy his trust. 

“Always,” you promised as he walked over to the wall and hit the switch for lights, cloaking the room in darkness. You sucked in a breath before you heard him shuffling about and the beskar helmet clanged against the metal floor. He stood in front of you, you could feel his breathing as he touched your cheek before wrapping a hand around your throat.

“Hands and knees,” he instructed with a delicious rasp, made even better by the lack of filtering from the vocoder of his helmet, “now.”

The singular word was enough to send a fresh rush of arousal through your veins, as you laid on your belly on the small cot before positioning yourself so your ass was in the air. He shuffled behind you, his large hands grazing over the soft flesh of your ass. He spread your cheeks apart before dragging a thick finger through your soaked folds. A small sound of pleasure rippled through your throat as you clutched onto the thin, scratchy blanket of the bed, “please.”

“Quiet,” it was harsh and biting as  the palm of his hand slapped your ass, the sting delicious and leaving you wanting more, “you like that, don’t you? You like being spanked, pretty girl.”

“Only by y-y-you,” before you could say anything, he slapped your ass a few more times before kneading the soft flesh to make sure the sting wasn’t too painful. 

Mando - no, Din - shifted his weight and you could feel him line himself up at your entrance. He ran the tip of his cock through your folds. A moan escaped your lips - and his - as he slowly pushed into you, giving you a brief moment to adjust to his considerable size. The stretch was amazing, the slight burn quickly turned into pleasure and you felt full, so completely full. He groaned as he bottomed out, already feeling pussy dumb by the way your velvet walls hugged him, “this - kriff - this pussy is perfect. Just like it was made for me.”

“Din,” you buried your face in your pillow as he pulled out, slowly, before thrusting sharply back into you. He was not lying when he said that he would not be gentle. His large, warm hands went to your hips as he held them in a bruising grip. You were sure you’d bear his marks for days. 

He set a bruising pace, thrusting into you with no mercy as he slammed his hips into yours. There was nothing gentle or intimate about, no - this was months and months of pent up frustration and desire coming out all at once. Din was not a talkative man, but as he fucked you into oblivion, he was whispering strings of filth and praise into your ears. All you could do was lie there as he pounded into you, so lost in your own pleasure as you became a whining mess under him.

Before he came, his arms snaked around your waist as he pulled you flush against his chest. One large hand went to play with your breasts as the other went to your clit as he rubbed and circled at the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your mouth hung open in a blissful haze as he kept going, pressing kisses into the soft skin of your skin and shoulder, alternating between nipping and sucking and making sure to leave plenty of marks so everyone knew you were his. 

“Look at you, pretty girl,” he grunted in your ear, “taking my cock so well. You love this don’t you? Getting used like this.”

“Mhmm,” you bit your lip as he kept going, kept abusing your spent pussy as he started to stutter in his thrusts, “‘m so close, please, wanna come.”

“You’re going to come on my cock,” he commanded as you nodded, “and I’m going to fill you up and make sure you know who you belong to.”

“I’m yours,” you insisted as you felt your walls clench around him and his cock start to twitch, “only yours.”

“Good girl,” he praised as he turned your head to place a rough kiss on your lips. It was the sheer act of the moment and feel of his stubble that sent you over the edge and cumming all over him. You were like jello in his arms as he held you up, giving you a few more thrusts before spilling inside and coating your walls with his cum, “ahh - fuck - so fucking good. Maker, you feel like no other. Perfect pussy - just for me.”

He held you tightly against his body as he caught his breath, the two of you breathing in sync. You thought he might pull away immediately, but instead, he pressed more kisses, chaste compared to your previous actions, down your back as he slowly lowered you onto the bed. You couldn’t even form words as you laid there, cockdumb and already feeling his arousal along with your own dripping onto your thigh. 

“You did good,” he praised gently before reaching between your legs and scooping up some of his cum that had started dripping out. You whimpered at the touch, still sensitive, and listened as he brought his fingers to his lips and sucked them clean, “but I’m not done with you yet.”

Din gently flipped you onto your back so you were lying face up and exposed to him. He sat between your legs and slowly spread them apart, admiring his handy work. He leaned back before climbing off the small and getting on his knees, pulling you towards his face. Just as you had gotten on your knees for him, he kneeled only for you. 

“Din,” you sighed contentedly as he kissed along your inner thighs, working his way back to your dripping heat. He nuzzled his nose against you, taking a moment to take it all in, “already so much."

"Come on, honey," his voice was like liquid gold as he reached up and touched your breasts, cupping them easily in his large hands, "you've got another one in you. I know you do. Aren't you a good girl?"

"Mhmm," you arched into his touch as he rolled your nipples between his fingers. How this infuriating man got you to become a pile of mush in his hands you'd never know, but you definitely weren't going to question it. He leaned up and kissed your hips before burying his face between your legs, "I'm your good girl."

And with those words, he licked a long stripe up your soaked folds, still soaked from your combined juices. His nose, which you presumed was aquiline in nature, nudged your clit as he ate you like a starving man. You were the shining prize, glimmering in the distance, and he was the wrecked man crossing the desert to get to you.

This time you didn't even bother to hold back as you mewled and cried, tears of pleasure and overstimulation welling up at the corners of your eyes and sliding down your cheeks. Din hummed in content as he licked and suckled at you, making sure to focus on your clit as you came completely undone.

Reaching down, you carded a hand through his locks - curls - as you pressed his face against your aching core. You could practically feel him smirking against you as he slipped a few fingers inside to join his ministrations. Expertly curling his thick fingers, he quickly found the sweet spot that made your toes curls and you see stars.

"Almost there," he grinned as he gave you a moment of reprieve before diving right back in, "I can feel that perfect cunt squeezing around me. Taste so good, pretty girl."

"D-Din," his name falling from your tongue was like pure magic as he became transfixed by how it sounded. Your mouth dropped open in a small O as your legs shook around him. He pulled his fingers from you as he held down your hips in order to keep you from squirming away from him, "feelssogood - makerohstars - Dindindin."

"Come all over my face, pretty girl," his tongue darted into you for a few moments before he gave your clit a harsh suckle. That was all it took before you came again, screwing your eyes shut as he worked your through your orgasm, lapping up every bit of your juices, refusing to waste even a drop, "there you are - taste so fucking good. Perfect."

He was relentless until he was sure you were completely done and a practical ragdoll on the bed. Slowly, he pulled back from you, trailing light kisses up your body, stopping when he got your face. Almost as if he was able to see even in the almost complete darkness, he wiped away your remaining tears. He hesitated for a moment for leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. You sighed softly as you rolled onto your side and scooted closer to the wall, making room for him. 

It was a big thing you were doing, boundaries had been crossed and blurred and any rules you'd previously had were thrown out the window. Neither of you were sure what came next.

But you did know that you didn't want him to leave - not yet anyway.

"Din?" you asked softly as he pulled the blanket over your spent body; he was surprisingly gentle for a man that had just sent you to heaven and hell and back. 

"Yes, pretty girl?" 

"Will you stay?" your voice was small as you prepared yourself for defeat and for him to leave.

"Yes," he whispered softly as he slid in under the blanket and next to you, "I'd like that."

"Me too," you admitted as he shifted and pulled you in his arms so you could lay your head on his chest, listening to the steady thump thump of his heart, "Din?"

“Hmm?”

"I'm in charge next time," you smirked lightly as you kissed his soft skin. He inhaled sharply but you could tell he was into it. The man might have just been in charge, but you had a feeling he might like being told what to do as well - and you were going to find out, "I want to ride you."

"Kriff," he groaned under his breath, "You're going to be the death of me, little brat."

"I'll make it worth your while," you promised with a small yawn, "I'll have you crying in no time - begging me for mercy."

“Mhmm.”

“You’re going to be a good boy for me, right?” it was your turn to put your hand on his throat and give it a gentle, but firm squeeze as he stiffened at the feeling, “I know you’re a good boy, Din.”

“Fuck.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #star wars #din djarin x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #ahhhhh #shes here!

[oliviajdjarin]

Chapter 1: a tug

Warnings: PTSD, sadness, depression, panic attack, mentions of violence

Author’s note: this is part one of my series called “Burning Red.” This is kind of boring because it is a set up for the main storyline, but I hope you enjoy it! Any constructive criticism and support is greatly appreciated. And if I missed a warning, please let me know!!

After everything you’ve seen, everything you’ve done, everyone you’ve hurt, it felt good to just lay low.

A mechanic on tatooine was not what you imagined, but it did the trick.

No one saw you for who you truly were, and that made you happy.

Well, except for Peli.

You came to her sick and angry and alone, and she nursed you back to health. You would be rotting in the desert if it wasn’t for her, and you felt you owed her a little something.

So, you used your “uncommon” set of abilities to help her with her mechanics in any way she needed.

This included: cooking, cleaning, repairing, negotiating, and most importantly, defending.

Peli was no dummy. She knew you had more experience in that field than she did. So she recruited you, and paid you back with whatever she had laying around. A new outfit once and a while, a warm bed, a hot dinner, and a couple of credits so you could go shopping and get out of her hair.

You couldn’t blame her. You were a hell of a lot of trouble to be around.

Constant nightmares, paranoia, and regret surrounded your aura like a fog. Any normal person wouldn’t notice, but someone like Peli could. And it pissed her off a good majority of the time.

“Stop moping and help me clean this oil off my droid,” and sentences like this one, were said pretty frequently around your place.

Was it even your place? All you did was survive. Is that enough to say you lived there instead of just survived there?

You really liked Peli. She gave you a base. A “home” of sorts, and for that you were forever indebted.

But something in you always called you back to your real home, and that scared you more than Peli’s tough love. More than you could even describe.

~~*~~

It was a pretty normal day on Tatooine. The wind howled, the sand covered everything in its wake, and the heat. You would never get used to it.

You were eating your breakfast when a ship landed on the landing pad, and you could already tell it was a doosey just by the way the left engine was sputtering.

If this ship explodes, we better get a damn good pay, you think to yourself.

The ramp starts to open and you take that as your queue to start the walk to your makeshift room. It was really a storage room, but you didn’t mind.

When you get there, you squat down to the ground behind your door and grab your apron and set of tools. You knew Peli would need some help with this ship.

You hear the ship’s ramp hit he ground and you feel it.

A tug.

Not even a tug, a lurch. It felt like a rope had been tied to your soul and pulled you back into your old self.

This was a tug you hadn’t felt in so long. So long, it almost knocks you off your feet.

I closed myself off from this, you think. I shouldn’t feel this. I don’t want to feel this.

You already feel a headache coming on from the shock and ache in your bones, so you start walking back to the landing pad to tell Peli you aren’t feeling too well.

If I get recognized, we are both dead.

You’d rather get a scolding from Peli than a scolding hot gun wound in your chest.

“Hey,” you hear Peli shout at the client, and you pick up your pace. Your heart is hammering in your chest and you feel the panic ooz through your body.

It’s been so long since you’ve felt this, but you hate how it makes you feel alive.

You finally make it to Peli and you see her speaking very loudly (she doesn’t like to use the word “yelling”) at what seems to be your client.

But this is no ordinary client. This is a Mandalorian.

A very broad Mandalorian who, no offense to Peli, could knock her out in his sleep.

You had heard legends of their kind. But worst of all, you had fought them. And damn were they good.

You hadn’t seen any since the purge. You had heard rumors of them hiding under ground, but they had always been peaceful people. You hated how they got dragged into a war.

“You damage one of my droids, you’ll pay for it,” Peli says, and you really wish she would use a more peaceful tone.

The last thing you want to do right now is fight a very impressive looking Mandalorian covered entirely in beskar while your entire body is tingling.

Is he the one who is force sensitive?

“Just keep them away from my ship” he says, and you are surprised at how well he is taking Peli’s annoyance.

“Yeah? You think that’s a good idea?” Peli responds in a tone dripping with sarcasm and you take this as your moment to try to sneak away.

This however, was unsuccessful.

“Come on y/n. Let’s take a look at his ship,” she says and the Mandalorian turns his helmet towards you.

You probably look like an absolute mess. Your chest is heaving, you are sweating, and you are not at all prepared to do any sort of repairs. You are basically in your pajamas. The Mandalorian’s gaze has you nervous enough, but this familiar feeling in your stomach has you dizzy and nauseous.

Just hold on......

You start to follow Peli to the ship while still looking at the Mandalorian. You learned very early on in your life to never take your eyes off a predator. He follows your form and you try your best to mask his incredibly strong force connection gripping your chest.

This man isn’t even trying to hide it? It’s almost as if he is reaching for me?

You make it to Peli where you finally take your eyes off of him. You can see why Peli was so mad now.

“Oof! Look at that,” she says as she scans the ship with her eyes. “You’ve got a lot of cabron scoring up top. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were in a shoot out.”

Oh my God, he was in a shoot out.

This is really not good. This man could have been followed and you could be surrounded at this very moment. You were a skilled fighter, but those kinds of odds were almost unbeatable. Especially when you were still trying to hide your identity.

You are so tense you feel like you could snap. You still feel his eyes on you, and you are praying to whatever is out there that you can just stay alive. That’s the only thing you’re good at.

“Name’s Peli Motto. That’s y/n,” she says as she points to you with her wrench.

She did not just tell him your NAME.

“This is my operation. You’re not gonna find a better mechanic on the planet,” she says as she leaned in closer to the engine.

“Yeah, I’m gonna have to rotate that. You’ve got a fuel leak. Look at this, this is a mess. How did you even land?”

All you wanted to do was scream.

He is a MANDALORIAN who was just in a SHOOT OUT. He is probably being FOLLOWED and we could be dead because of ME.

“That’s gonna set you back,” she says.

She is concerned about MONEY right now?

Peli is a smart woman, but she was walking you into a trap. You didn’t want her blood on your hands. You didn’t need any more of that.

All of this is happening while you are still on the verge of a panic attack.

This Mandalorian is strong with the force. It is squeezing your lungs and your feet and your hands and your brain. All rational thinking is out the window. You had to get out of here before he manages to suffocate you.

God you hate this feeling. A few years ago you lived with this constantly. It became a part of you. Something you enjoyed. But now...

“I’ve got five hundred imperial credits,” the Mandalorian says.

Imperial credits. Great. How did he get his hands on those?

“That’s all you got? Well..” she says and looks back at you.

“What do you think,” she asks in a teasing tone.

You try to plead to her with your eyes. You are sweating beyond belief and your brain is about to explode.

She tightens her brows in confusion at your state, but continues to bargain.

“That should at least cover the hanger,” she says and you feel your jaw almost drop to the floor.

How can she not see it?

“I’ll get you your money,” the Mandalorian mumbles and you try to take a deep breath. Passing out in front of one of the fiercest warriors in the galaxy who may be here to kill you would rip off the last bit of pride you had left. If you are going down, you are going down with a fight.

“I’ve heard that before,” Peli responds and looks at you in a joking way. Like she was trying to coax you into laughing with her.

You try to chuckle back, but it just comes out in a low breath.

You sound insane.

“Just remember—,” the Mandalorian starts

“No droids. I heard ya,” Peli finishes.

“Why do you think I keep this girl around,” she says chuckling with a pat on your back.

You muster up the strength to smile and feel holes burning in your head from the Mandalorian’s gaze.

He really knows how to stare.

The Mandalorian leaves the hanger, and it takes everything in you not to pass out right there.

You thought with him leaving it would die down, but it’s only getting worse.

“Are you ok,” Peli asks and helps you lower yourself to the ground.

You are breathing frantically now and your hands are clutched to your chest.

“He has it,” you say and you know Peli knows what you mean.

She looks at you with wide eyes and you see the realization on her face.

“Oh my god.... he was in a shootout,” she says.

“Uh huh,” you breathe out. The desperate force connection is starting to fade and you feel your lungs fill up with air once more.

“He could have been followed! Or he could be here to—“

“Kill us,” you say. Peli hates when you finish her sentences, but there was no point in caring right now.

“Ok. Get inside. If I need you I will call for you,” she says and you nod, slowly getting to your feet.

You start to walk back to your room, with Peli’s arms guiding you, while taking deep breaths, but you freeze when you sense something else coming out of the ship and you snap your head to the ramp.

“What,” Peli says as she follows your gaze.

Your heart flutters. The force is slowly starting to ease its nasty grip on you.

If you didn’t sense the creature, you would miss it.

A little green baby, wrapped in what looked like a potato sack, was strolling down the ramp, looking directly at you.

“It’s him,” you say.

“He has it.”

#din djarin #mando #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #star wars #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian fanfiction

[sirthisisa-wendys]

hi. can i request something angsty i absolutely love your angst works! so being in a long term relationship with mr ran haitani that's kind of already having fallouts. then reader cheated and confesses to ran about it but he still kind of didn't expect reader would do something like that. thank you very much! pls ignore if you want <3

This hurt to write. But it hurt so damn good.

King of Sorrow: Ran Haitani x Fem!Reader

wc: 1.6k

tw: A N G S T

masterlist

song recommendation:

Things had been going downhill for a while.

Ran noticed the way you stayed out late, the way you no longer cuddled him in bed at night, the way your eyes wandered when you two were at the club...

But he never says anything.

You two had been together since he had become part of Bonten - and that was five years ago. FIve years of bliss, love, and happiness.

But that all started to fall apart last month.

He can't recall what he did - if anything. Ran tried his best to show you that he loved you, even when he was away. But lately, it'd been met with a half-hearted "thanks" or "I love you, too". Ran knew you weren't saying it because it was inherently true. You were saying it because you felt obligated to.

But he didn't feel obligated.

No, he's convinced he loves you, even if you're falling out of love with him. It's a hard thought for him to grasp, but he does somehow - that you might just have fallen out of love with him.

So he ups his gestures of love in an attempt to stave off the routine. This week, he's taken you on a trip to Italy. No meetings, no calls, nothing that has to do with work. It's just you and him on a cruise ship, sailing from port to port.

"This is amazing," he beams, cutting into the steak with gusto. "I've never had steak like this before."

"It's Wagyu," you mention, looking more somber in the dim lighting of the restaurant than when you both entered. Come to think of it, the moment you stepped onto the boat, you seemed downcast, even more so than when you were at home. You couldn't even look Ran in the eye anymore, and even though he'd made love to you the previous night, it seemed like that didn't have any effect on how you felt today. Usually, you'd be excited and full of life, but...

"Babe," Ran whispers, putting his fork down. "What's wrong?" Your bottom lip quivers and Ran stiffens. No, he thinks. Don't cry. But he also wants to get to the bottom of things, so he continues cautiously. "Things have been really strange for some time now, and I brought you here so maybe we could fix whatever's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong," you lie, wiping your eyes quickly. "Everything's fine."

"No," Ran tuts. "It's not. My love, you've been distant. I'm worried about us." He reaches across the table and touches your hand, and gesture he hasn't tried in a long time. "I'm worried about you." You snatch your hand away, standing and throwing your napkin over your barely touched food.

"It's fine, Ran," you snap, then walk away from the table quickly, rubbing at your eyes furiously as you leave the ship's dining room. Ran sighs, motioning for the waiter as he cuts his losses with the dinner.

"Just send the bill to the room, please."

Ran finds you in your shared suite, sitting in the chair facing the balcony with your head in your hands. You're sobbing, and for a moment, he replays the interaction between the two of you before approaching, holding your purse in one hand.

"Love," he begins, kneeling beside the chair and placing your purse in the other seat beside him. "I need you to talk to me."

"I just..." you start but break off, tears flowing down your fingers. "It's not your fault." You reveal your reddened face, eyes rimmed with smeared mascara. "I didn't mean to..."

"Whatever it is, it's fine," Ran whispers, taking your wet hands in his. "It'll be okay. Just tell me what's wrong." His heart is aching to know why you're so heartbroken, but you inhale shakily, then exhale before opening your eyes.

"Ran, I want to start off by apologizing." Ran shakes his head, his violet eyes unsure, but you stop him, squeezing his hands once. "Just listen to me all the way through, okay?"

"Done," he affirms, shoulders relaxing now that you're finally telling him what's wrong.

"A month ago... I went to Takada's bachelorette party, right?"

"Mmm-hmm." He remembers that night. You looked so stunning in your tight mini-dress and pinned-up hair. He thought about railing you over the side of the banister before you left and was a little disappointed that you came home around eight in the morning instead of that same night.

"I..." You shakily inhale again, shaking your head rapidly. "I got so drunk. I don't know what was wrong with me, I..." You sniff, then remove your hands from Ran's, wiping at a stray tear. "I ended up sleeping with someone. I don't know who they are, I don't know where they came from. But I just remember waking up in the bed, naked, and seeing him there."

Ran stares at you, face empty, still not fully processing what you've said. He is still for a while as the cogs in his mind turn around and around and around and around and around and then

stop.

His mouth dries up, and his violet eyes look away from you, at the wallpaper, at the mirror, at the corner of the room, at the ceiling.

"I've felt so guilty since then," you mumble. "I couldn't tell you because I felt so ashamed, I--"

Ran stands, letting out a soft "oh", wavering a little on his feet. He blinks a few times, still not looking at you, then cocks his head to the left, like he's hearing something. But he's just processing. His mind flits from one day to the next, trying to pinpoint any signs, any clues... How could he have been so stupid?

No, you couldn't have cheated. It was a mistake. You'd gotten undressed, the man was drunk and also fell asleep in your bed... No, you couldn't do that. Not to him. Not to Ran Haitani.

But your guilt is written all over your face.

"Oh," Ran mutters again, jaw clenching. His breaths come quick like he'd been running for hours, and he can barely think as he sees red cloud his vision. He can't understand what he's doing when he breaks the table in the conjoined living room, or swipes the vases onto the floor, shattering them and depositing the flowers among them. He can't think about anything as you shout for him to stop, trying to reach him past his haze of red, but he's too far gone.

And the thing that frightens you the most is that he isn't yelling or screaming.

He's quiet.

He's not cursing at you, he's just destroying anything that looks whole, tossing it to the ground and rendering it unusable. You slide down against the wall, tears coursing down your cheeks again as he huffs, standing in the middle of the wreckage, gasping for air.

And then, the clearest thought Ran's had in almost an hour comes to him.

"Let me get you your own room."

"Ran," you plead, stumbling over your feet to get to him as he marches over to the phone. "Ran, please."

"Hello? I need a new suite for Mrs. Haitani. Do you have one available?"

"Ran!" you beg, pulling at his sleeve, but he doesn't move from the phone, gripping the receiver as the person on the other line tries to find an open room for you. You try to reach the button that will hang up the call, reaching past Ran's frame in earnest. He's blocking it, but there's just enough room for your pointer finger to tap the button, ending the call.

Ran doesn't even move. The phone is still up to his ear as if the call is still going on, but no voice is on the other line.

Fat tears roll down from his eyes, and he's frozen there, standing with the phone in his hands as if he were paused in time. But he lets the phone slip from his grasp, walking like a zombie over to the chair by the balcony, and sliding into it slowly.

And he doesn't get up, staring out at the sea with an empty, forlorn look.

"Ran," you whisper, crouching next to him. He doesn't answer, tears running freely down his face. "Ran..." Again, there's no answer, so you hang your head next to his leg, touching his thigh with your right hand. He doesn't move, even when you get up to prepare for bed, the door leading to the carnage of his temper still open.

He doesn't move from that chair all night, and you don't sleep, staring at him as his tears dry. You even succumb to sleep for a brief moment, waking to see him still in that same chair, still trying to think.

But eventually, he moves, walking into the bathroom and staying in there for a while. You wait patiently for him, sitting on the edge of the bed as he emerges, wiping his face with a towel before he inhales sharply.

"As soon as they dock this ship at the next port, we're heading home. Couples counseling or a divorce, it's your choice." You look down at your hands, nodding. You understand the need to cut the trip short. It's for the best.

When you arrive back home two days later, Ran immediately grabs a new bag of things, loading it up with clothing and toiletries, choosing to take residence at Rindou's home instead of sleeping in the same bed as you.

And that hurt the worst, his cold violet eyes not even glancing over at you as he left the master bedroom without any words.

#ran haitani x reader #ran haitani #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers #tw angst

[stetervault]

Hiii! Been delving into Steter now, in the year of our lord 2021, even though I never really did when I was active in the fandom years ago and I was wondering if you'd have some longfic recs for the ship? Like, fics that are Classics(TM)? But happy endings! And I'm not super into those in which Stiles is still underage 😬 do u have any recs? Thanks!

Welcome to the Steter fandom! I definitely have some long fics to rec, some of them are super old lol, and I'll stick to ones around 20k or over, and most of them are finished. And hmm, considering the ship, and a lot of fics like to start off in season 1 where Stiles is still technically a teenager, I'll try to limit these to ones with Stiles being at least 16/17 before anything starts happening, and only 18+ if there's explicit content. I hope that's okay.

drowning in the sea of you by Corpium

Beacon Hills was perfect for Stiles growing up, but now, with werewolves, hunters, and an anxious best friend running around, it's turning into a place too chaotic for an empath like Stiles to handle alone. And pain killers can only go so far.

Wake Me Up by ToAStranger

Stiles has been in a coma for six years. Now he's awake.

Tremors by Corpium

(Stiles has a taste for him now. All Peter needs to do is wait.)

Surviving Peter and the Zombie Apocalypse by Nopennamesleft

Its the end of the world and Stiles has run out of luck. He saves a werewolf from certain death. Will they begin to rely on each other to survive or will the wolf just eat Stiles for a midnight snack?

Bite Down by EclipseWing

In which Stiles is forced to survive the zombie apocalypse with a sociopathic murdering werewolf for company.

as you are by veterization

Stiles runs straight into a tree and suddenly, things are... different. Namely, he's in a world where Peter Hale is his boyfriend.

Call My Name by KouriArashi

After moving to Beacon Hills, Stiles starts having recurring dreams of a man in some kind of prison, who needs his help. Things get so bad that he ends up in Eichen House, where he finds out that the man is real.

Devil of Mercy by KouriArashi

Peter's heard people talk about what it felt like when they saw their mate for the first time, from those who actually believe in the mystical bullshit. Like a magnet, like gravity. Peter just feels... sharply curious.

Whiskey is My Kind of Lullaby by taylorpotato

Peter is a simple saloon owner on one of the outer planets between the Aaru Belt and the Olympus Galaxy. He’s done with trouble. Done with adventure. So fucking done with rustlers. That is, until a cute young outlaw named Stiles wanders into his bar. Peter has this problem where he can’t seem to resist charming narcissists (perhaps because they remind him of himself). And when said narcissists turn his life upside-down, the worst part is he’s not even that upset about it.

Proposing To Strangers by moonstalker24

At the end of a strained relationship, crime novelist Stiles chooses to hide from the world inside a bar with far too many motorcycles outside it for comfort. Here he'll meet the man of his dreams, eat food and propose marriage, all within the first five minutes.

Peter doesn't know who this kid is, but he's cute and looks like he could use a break. So he feeds him. He's not expecting a marriage proposal, but with what comes after, he doesn't really mind.

Stiles Stilinski, Disaster Chef by Guede

The zombie apocalypse forces Stiles to learn how to cook.

The Will by Guede

We are gathered here today for the reading of Gerard Argent’s will.

On the Importance of Lunar Influences in Gardening by Guede

“Oh, it’s you again,” Stiles sighs. He puts down his basket and drops the bunch of onions into it, and then dusts off his hands. “Can’t you get your own strawberries? I mean, I have it on good authority that wild strawberries? They’re a thing. They exist. They’re out there.”

“But Stiles,” says the werewolf dangling by one foot from the tree, sticky red smears around his mouth and all over his fingers. “Your berries are so juicy, so ripe. Those ones in the woods are mere passing indulgences compared to the royal feast you have in your garden.”

Genii loci Stiles and his father run a community garden, and it’s all good, except for the werewolf who keeps sneaking over the fence to raid Stiles’ strawberry patch (and the hunter who’s constantly hanging around his father).

Runes and all kinds of things by FeelingsDusk (WIP)

Enough is enough. Stiles is tired of being always a last choice when he always tries to do his best for his precious people, so they better get their act together or face being left behind.

OR

The things in the Argent's basement get nearly fatal, the Sheriff finds about the supernatural, Allison can have a wicked, wicked mind and Peter Hale appears to be everywhere.

Oh, and Stiles can't seem to stop breaking the laws of physics with his magic.

Sanctuary by DiscontentedWinter

The Hale Wolf Sanctuary isn’t just for wolves.

It turns out it’s for Stilinskis as well.

Out Of The East, Never See The Sun Rise by neglectedtuesday

In the beginning, there are three absolutes.

One. Stiles is a god, forged of starlight and collapsing galaxies and he is eternal.

Two. Peter is human, fragile bone and viscous blood and he is temporary.

Three. Stiles and Peter are in love; love that claws its way inside one’s heart like fish hooks; all encompassing love that is beautiful but dangerous.

Stiles is a god. Peter is human. They love each other.

Three absolutes.

You Had Me at Canapes by LadyArinn

Stiles doesn't mean to sneak into the Hale wedding, and he certainly doesn't mean to have cliche coat-room sex with the bride's uncle, but what had happened, happened, and it wasn't like he could just leave. At least, not until he got to have some of that cake.

Infinite Space by DiscontentedWinter

Stiles needs Peter's expertise to help stop the latest threat to Beacon Hills. And, as the pack falls apart around him, he might even need Peter for more than that.

Hook, Yarn, Sinker by pprfaith

Stiles is happy with his store, his hobbies, his friends. Peter's just trying to figure out how to raise his nieces and nephew without fucking them up too badly.

Paths cross.

Open Wounds by Guede

Talia got out of the fire with Peter, but everyone else died. Years later, they’re still struggling with injuries, but they’ve at least settled in with oddball werewolf Stiles. And then other werewolves start showing up. Familiar ones.

Bittersweet Creek by Guede

When Stiles finally steps off the westward trail to California, he’s the last of his pack. He starts building a den, but then he finds a dying man next to a burnt-down house and it turns out he’s not really much of a settler, after all.

For Great Justice! by Green

Stiles is a vengeance demon, drawn to Peter just as he's waking from his catatonia.

"Whoever did this? We will make those fuckers suffer. I promise you."

Bone Deep by ShippersList

A body in the woods, a mate, and a long-awaited revenge.

Peter had no idea how his life would change when he followed the strange pull in his chest.

Love What is Behind You by KouriArashi

Basically what it says on the label. Hunger Games type fusion. Stiles doing way better than anyone anticipates. Peter finds him intriguing. Ruthless, devious assholes working together to ruin bad guys, as the Steter ship is meant to be.

Soothing the Burn by Therapeutic_Steter (WIP)

Peter is burnt out and breaking down. Stiles notices and offers him solace, along with the one thing he wants most: Pack.

Til Death by Bunnywest

“How long do we have to find him someone?” Stiles asks. “Two weeks,” says Derek, eyebrows pulling down even further. The fierceness of his expression tells Stiles just how concerned he is. “He marries, or he goes to the camps. And you know what your father told us,” Scott reminds her. The camps……aren’t camps. Peter either finds a wife, or he dies.

Ink Blossoms by Triangulum

"So, you're going to ruin your niece's baby shower with flowers in the wrong color?" the florist, Stiles, asks when they reach the counter. He pulls out a binder and starts flipping through it.

"Not ruin. Mildly inconvenience," Peter says.

"Right, messing with a hormonal pregnant woman seems like a great plan."

"To be fair, her fiance and the father of her baby is my ex-boyfriend," Peter says. "And we weren't broken up when they started 'dating'."

Stiles looks up at him in surprise. "And you're still getting her flowers?" he asks.

"It's under duress, I assure you," Peter says. He absolutely wouldn't be here if his alpha hadn't ordered it.

"Well, shit, yeah, let's get you some purple revenge flowers," Stiles says.

After You by FlyAwayMeow (rjaejoo)

It’s true that sometimes what you want the most, you can’t have and that you’ll miss what you once had all along when it’s finally gone.

After breaking his engagement to Chris, Peter heads to New York to start over. He meets Stiles, a young author at his publishing house who helps him piece his confidence back together. When tragedy strikes, he discovers how to finally let go of his past and have the family and future he's always wanted with the pieces already in his life.

love me lights out by veterization

Stiles and Peter get snowed in together. (Or: what happens when you accept phone calls from people you haven't spoken to in over five years.)

Uncle Peter Doesn't Date by Mellow (SweetCandy) (WIP)

“Oh don’t lie, you love it.” Peter purred and winked at his newest arm candy, who spluttered for a few seconds, before blushing like a 16 year old virgin. Considering how young he looked Laura wouldn’t be surprised if he was actually 16. “Shut up Peter!” Bambi squeaked, still flushing and averting Laura’s eyes. “Well, anyways, I’m,” ‘Bambi’. “Stiles. Stiles Stilinski, pleasure to meet you- again.” Stiles smiled sheepishly, obviously nervous. Stiles Stilinski. Definitely a stripper then.

-

Or: Laura was prepared for whatever piece of armcandy her uncle had decided to show up with, what she hadn't been prepared for was Stiles Stilinski...her uncle's boyfriend.

Under the Songbird’s Wing by mia6363

Captivity easily destroys the will of escape. It can break the fiercest of animal. It can strip the most regal man and woman down to nothing but animal needs.

Captivity can, if met with unwavering determination, shape a person into something unimaginable.

Stiles is sixteen when he's captured. Stiles's first thought is, "I won't die here."

Baby Whisperer by twothumbsandnostakeincanon (somanyofthekids)

“What. Is that.”

Scott looked up at him, apprehensive.

“Her name’s Lily.”

Stiles stared at the fuzzy head peeking out of the papoose.

“Her. Her name. That is a real live human baby. Oh my God-”

“Actually I don’t know if she’s human?” Scott said with a confused frown. “Becca didn’t say.”

“Who the fuck is Becca?!”

Sacrificial Lamb by Bunnywest

The Alpha has a scruffy beard, unkempt hair and dazzling blue eyes. The scar on his face is raised, running down his cheek like a twisting, gnarled rope. Stiles knows that it came from the blade of Kate Argent herself, and that the Alpha got it fighting in the battle where Kate killed his lover, cutting his head clean from his neck, if the stories are to be believed.

The Alpha lets Stiles look his fill, before indicating that Stiles should take the other couch, and Stiles does so, his father’s words echoing in his ears. He can do this, can be pleasant and amenable. The lives of his people may depend on it. The Alpha spends long moments surveying him, before saying, “I like you, Stiles.”

You don’t know me, Stiles wants to blurt out, but he bites his tongue.

The Various Triumphs of Mischief Bilinski by Whispering_Sumire (WIP)

"Hello, Chris," sings a honeyed voice from behind.

Chris' attention snaps toward the intruder, his gun already out of its' holster and aimed at whoever it is — a boy, apparently, with braided russet hair, a red jacket, and wise eyes. He's wearing a gas mask, but Chris can tell by the way his eyes crinkle around the edges, the way sun-burnt sand swirls in his irises, that he's smiling.

Chris cocks his gun.

"You killed my father," he says.

"No offence, but he totally deserved it," the stranger agrees with cheerful solemnity.

"What the hell are you doing in my home?" Chris demands. The kid is perched on a windowsill in Chris' office, as nonchalantly as if this were something he did every day, as if they were familiar.

"I was just wondering," the kid speaks softly, fond amusement sewn through with a peculiar resignation, "how you'd feel about putting down some nazis?"

[Or: The one where Stiles goes back in time and subsequently fucks with everything.]

A Curious Magic by Triangulum

Overall, Stiles is very well-known in the supernatural community. It’d be hard not to be, not with how his reputation has grown like wildfire. He knows and is on good terms with nearly all the fae that reside in the preserve, the asrai that live deep in the lake, the Ito pack, the vampire couple that lives over in Beacon Valley (they buy an ethically-sourced food supply from Stiles), as well as almost every other supernatural entity in the area. But Talia Hale doesn’t like him, and a werewolf pack tends to do what their alpha tells them to.

So it’s a definite surprise when the wards at the edge of his property trip, the tingling down his spine telling him it’s a werewolf, the lack of burning sensation letting him know there’s no hostile intent. Stiles, in his office in the second floor turret, sets down the amulet he’s packing up for Marin and moves to the large window overlooking the front of his property. He’s expecting to see an Ito packmember, even though they nearly always call in advance, and is surprised to see a man that he recognizes as Talia’s brother, Peter.

Light in the Dark by cywscross

It still surprises Stiles sometimes, how easily he’s adapted. Seven months in a world filled with train tracks and soul-sucking fae, and it feels like he’s never known anything else.

~~

Or, the one where diverting the Ghost Riders from Beacon Hills to prey on a different town only succeeded in setting them free.

Vengeance Looks Good On You, Sweetheart by cywscross

Just because Scott refuses to see the Argents for what they truly are - prejudiced serial killers sitting proudly on a mountain of innocent corpses - doesn't mean Stiles will. It's about time someone did something about the Argent Empire anyway, and what a coincidence - summer vacation is just around the corner.

--

Or, the one where Gerard Argent kidnapped the wrong fucking person to torture. Stiles has never subscribed to the policy of forgiving and forgetting anyway, not when razing the problem to the ground and salting the earth for good measure has always been a far better solution in the long run.

He doesn't expect to have company.

#rec list #teen wolf #steter #stiles stilinski #peter hale #fanfic rec #akielosrises #ask