#and if I still spend to much time on this hell site I might need some assistance aka store-bought self-discipline

[atomicami]

cami would you write a sub abby? like maybe where she needs your help to get off?🤭🩷

my sweet dani, that mind of yours truly is incredible…i wrote this one just for you querida 🤍

close call

contractor!abby anderson x joel’s daughter!reader

- summary: it’s the night before the annual bake sale, and abby needs your touch now more than ever.

- content: smut MDNI, no outbreak/modern au, contractor/engineer!abby, texas living, no sarah, joel & jerry are still alive (jerry is not a doctor in this), reader has a business degree, abby gets needy, sneaking out, oral & fingering (a!receiving), masturbation (r), abby whimpering and begging?? and i think that’s it but lmk if i missed anything

- author’s note: well if i’m being honest i really did not expect to be writing another contractor!abby fic so soon, but this request gives so much desperate contractor!abby energy that i just had to do it. however i do have to clarify that this is not a part 3. i’ve stated this before in one of my asks, but part 3 is going to be more about the bake sale…this is just more of a little bonus chapter i guess.

anyways, this one’s for you dani, and for all of my contractor!abby fans out there that need a little pick me up rn. i hope y’all enjoy it 🫶🏻

You didn’t expect to be doing it again so soon.

After you had snuck your way out of work to go see Abby at her father’s contracting site, you have to admit that the rest of this week flew by surprisingly fast for you.

You had been keeping yourself occupied in the meantime, between doing customer calls at work and preparing for the bake sale, you’ve been quite patient with yourself and didn’t feel the need to have to sneak out again until the next time you’d plan to see Abby. It was almost as if you simply had just been sick that day, and Abby’s touch was the remedy that cured you.

Although…there might be a feeling that you’ve jinxed yourself in saying so when you receive a phone call the night before.

You spent the morning on your work shift as usual, and your dad was generous enough to let you go before lunchtime so you could start baking for the sale tomorrow. After spending the rest of your day prepping, mixing, baking, and decorating, you were left with a variety of fresh pastries by sundown, ready to sell the next morning.

By the time you finished cleaning up the kitchen and getting ready for bed, the clock struck 10 p.m. Normally you’d stay up a little longer, but after the exhausting day you’ve had today, you genuinely needed to rest for tomorrow. You had to be downtown by 7 a.m. to set up at the farmer’s market for the bake sale. Given how weary you were, it didn’t take long for you to fall asleep.

However, you were only able to get a few hours of sleep in before your phone began to ring.

The sound of your ringtone startles you awake. Letting out a tired groan, you muster up the energy to reach over to your nightstand to turn on your light and pick up your phone to see who was calling you.

“Abby?” you whisper to yourself, rubbing your eyes to get a better look at the screen. Once you do, the phone call disappears and your lock screen shows with the missed notification, giving you a chance to look at the time.

It was barely past 1 a.m. Why the hell was she calling you this late?

Her contact name shows up once again in a second call, and this time you swipe to answer.

“Abby…what is it?” you answer groggily to her.

“Hey…are you awake?” she asks shyly.

You roll your eyes before responding. “I am now.”

“Look, I’m sorry if I did wake you up, but I really need you right now…”

Her words start to replay in your head. The tone she had in her voice…she didn’t sound like her usual, cocky self. She sounded desperate…kind of like how you were the last time you saw her.

“Abby, it’s one in the morning…what is it that can’t wait until later?”

You knew what she was asking for, you just needed to make her say it. Kind of like how she made you tell her last time.

“I um…I can’t get myself off,” she muttered back. It was quiet, but not quiet enough to where you couldn’t hear her.

You simply nod, soon remembering that she couldn’t see you right now. “Alright, um…do you have your boxers on, then?”

“No—I mean, yes I do, but I don’t mean this…I need you to come over.”

You scoff at her through the phone. She truly can’t be serious. Having to do this over the phone would already be difficult enough for you. But to sneak yourself out in the middle of the night to do so? It was going to be too much.

“Abby, you can’t be serious right now—“

“Come on, baby, don’t be like that…My dad isn’t even home right now, please?”

“Okay, but my dad is.” You reply to her instantly. “There’s no way I’m gonna be able to get out of my house without waking him up.”

You keep trying to tell her that it’s not going to work out, but Abby continues to beg about it. As much as you wanted to, it clearly wasn't the right time to do so. But eventually, you just had to give in.

“Okay, fine! I’ll come over…” you said, quickly lowering your voice down. “Just…just give me five minutes.”

After hanging up the phone, you get up from your bed, taking the time to stretch in the process. Grabbing the first pair of shoes you find, you quickly slip them on before grabbing your phone and keys and exiting your room.

Once you’ve shut the door, you begin to tiptoe down the hall as to not wake up your father. The door of Joel’s bedroom was slightly cracked open, and you could see that he was fast asleep. You quietly pass by his bedroom and make your way down the stairs, praying that the wood doesn't start creaking from the weight of your footsteps.

Before you know it, you’ve successfully made it out the door, and you begin to cross the street to Abby’s place. Once you’ve made it to her front door, your phone buzzes again.

“Abby: there’s a spare key under the mat.”

Jesus. The least she could’ve done was to have let you in her own house, especially since you had to do most of the work sneaking yourself out.

You reach down and slide your hand under the doormat, quickly finding the key that was hidden underneath before unlocking the door and letting yourself in. It’s the first time you’ve been inside Abby’s house, and you’re not bothered to even get a good look at it, you just needed to find her right now.

After wandering throughout her house for what feels like forever, you finally find her bedroom. Not even bothering to knock, you simply walk in to see Abby lying in the center of her bed, her long blonde locks draped over her shoulders, and her muscle tank covering her top half while the rest of her body was covered with her duvet from the waist down.

“Hey,” she pants out, propping herself up on her bed to get a better look at you. “I’m so sorry I had to—“

“Sit up,” you tell her, cutting off her sentence.

“What?”

“You heard me. Sit up.”

You then walk your way over to the left side of her bed and kneel on the ground, causing Abby to scramble around and sit up from her bed. Once you’re settled on the ground, she’s got her legs hanging off the bed, and you can see that she doesn’t have anything on underneath.

“Thought you said you had your boxers on,” you told her.

“I-I did…I just couldn’t wait for you to get here…” she replies, looking away from you as she does so.

“And you say I’m the needy one…” you mutter to yourself. You then spread Abby’s legs open, revealing her pussy to you. Despite how truly annoyed you were that she made you have to sneak out in the middle of the night, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to be touching her like this right now…because your mouth was practically watering at the sight of her wet pussy.

Without hesitation, you insert two of your fingers inside her. Her body jerks back for a moment at the sudden touch, before soon settling down, letting her pussy relax around your fingers.

It seemed like Abby was trying to compose herself right now because you could hear how hard she was trying to hold back her whimpers and whines as you kept slowly pumping your fingers in and out of her.

“M-More…” she whispers out to you, trying her best to not sound needy.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” You asked, eyes still fixated on her pussy.

“I-I need more, please…” she responds, her voice just a little louder this time.

You look up at her as your fingers continue to move inside her pussy, your movements not stopping as you maintained eye contact with her. “I’m gonna need you to be more specific than that, Abigail, or else I’m not giving you what you want,” you tell her sternly.

You can easily see her trying to hold back her frustration right now, and you were honestly enjoying it. The fact that you’ve put her in this state of submission outside of her usual cocky persona truly has you beaming with pride.

“I—fuck—I need your mouth, p-please…” she whines out to you, hands gripping onto the sheets as your fingers curl into her g spot.

“See, there you go…That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” you tease back at her before leaning in and attaching your mouth to her clit as you continued to finger her.

It didn’t take long for the speed of your fingers to increase inside her pussy and for your mouth to suck harder on her throbbing clit. Between the pleasure you were giving her and the whimpers and moans that were escaping from her mouth, you can’t help but feel the need to take care of yourself down there.

As you continue to eat Abby out, your non-dominant hand begins to trail its way down into your shorts and slide below your underwear. You instantly feel a sense of relief once your fingertips reach your clit, rubbing it gently as you continued to give Abby the pleasure she needed.

You began to whimper and moan into her pussy, the vibrations from your mouth causing chills to rush through Abby’s body as she tried to chase her orgasm.

Her pussy soon began to clench around your fingers more than usual, indicating that she was close. You briefly removed your mouth from her pussy to speak to her, quickly replacing it with your thumb in the meantime. “You’re getting close, aren’t you?” you asked, looking up at her.

Abby nodded quickly in response. “Y-yes, fuck, p-please don’t stop…” she whined out, quickly grabbing your head with one hand and pushing it back into her pussy while her other hand grips onto the edge of her bed.

You were practically being suffocated in between her strong thighs right now, but you could honestly care less. You weren’t stopping until she finished. You continued to desperately moan and whine into her pussy as you kept rubbing your needy clit with your other hand, trying to chase your orgasm as well.

“Oh fuck, baby, right there, I’m gonna—Fuck!”

Abby tried her best to warn you, she really did, but before you both knew it, her release was already spilling out of her pussy and onto your fingers and mouth, causing you to greedily drink up every last drop of her before slowly removing your mouth and fingers out of her.

Once Abby had recovered from her orgasm, she looked down at you just in time to see you take your other hand out of your shorts. She kept her eyes on your fingers, admiring how they were covered in your release as a result of the pleasure you just gave to her.

She brings her hand down to your chin and lifts it to meet her eyes with yours. The deja vu feeling was hitting her now the second she saw your pupils blown out once again, just like how you were not even a week ago when you went down on her under her desk while she was sitting across from her father.

You hesitate for a moment before soon making the effort to stand up to her height, bringing your two fingers that were coated in your slick up to her lips.

“Clean them up,” you commanded.

Abby nodded as she held the hand that was put to her mouth before parting her lips and sucking your fingers clean. Her eyes were trained on yours, maintaining eye contact as she did so.

“There you go, just like that…” you mutter out to her quietly.

Once they were clean, Abby removed your fingers from her mouth, making a slight pop sound as she did so. You lean in to plant a kiss on her lips, tasting a bit of yourself from her lips and vice versa. You then reach down to grab your phone and keys before walking towards her bedroom door to leave.

However, you pause in your tracks for one moment and turn your head around to look at her fucked out self one more time.

“I’ll see you at the bake sale.” you reminded her, that same smirk appearing now on both of your faces before you turned back around and exited her bedroom, now leaving her by herself.

Well, it’s safe to say that Abby was going to have to return the favor for you real soon.

- a/n: i have to admit this one’s not my best work, it was my first time writing sub abby y’all believe me i tried my best 🙏🏻

also, i don’t usually self promote my fics but i did post my first dina fic the other day, it’s called overnight sensation and it’s a smau series. i’ve spent a lot of time and effort in making that fic so far so it’ll truly mean a lot to me if you guys could check it out 🤍

but other than that, i’ll see you guys in part 3!

tags 🏷️: @abbyscherry @whore4abby @zombholic @aouiaa @uraesthete @lia-winther @gaptoothedlesbo @deadbolted @abbysfavewh0rx @echostinn @mochiivqi @floptron @totallyghostdgirl @swtsuna @bellaramslover @naomis-daydream @ur-fav-pixi @sirenbxby @paprikahoernchen @thesevi0lentdelights @mostlyhornyandsad @tohoko

(^ i think that’s everyone?? let me know if i missed anyone/if you’d like to be tagged in the real part 3 LOL)

2023 © atomicami | all rights reserved. do not copy, modify, or translate any of my works.

#abby anderson #contractor!abby #abby anderson x female reader #abby the last of us 2 #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x reader #abby x reader smut #abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby anderson tlou2 #abby x you #abby x reader #abby x fem!reader #the last of us x you #wlw #the last of us x reader #the last of us part 2 #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #tlou2 x reader #the last of us abby anderson #the last of us 2 #abby anderson x you

[monstersandmaw]

Male ‘yautja inspired’ alien x gender neutral reader - Part Three (sfw)

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

___

Well, folks. You’ve absolutely floored me with your support for this story. I don’t know where to begin to thank you. Without further ado, here’s Part Three. It’s only had one edit this time, so please forgive any mistakes???

I will just quickly remind you that this isn’t technically a Predator/Yautja fanfic. It’s heavily inspired, but to the people ‘correcting’ my lore mistakes with asks that I’ve largely ignored, it’s not supposed to be ‘canon’ or accurate. It’s just a story with aliens who look like predators because I don’t want to spend time doing research and I love the design. Yes, they are basically a feral predator and a jungle predator, but just not in name and not in lore detail, so there’s no need to ‘correct’ me. Thanks. (Also Croc is gonna get his own story at some point in the future, I’m determined. Just not with this reader)

Contents: mention of loss of comrade’s life, thunderstorm, all the tropes, the start of some classic pining, some misunderstanding, some soft chat, Croc starting to be an exasperated wingman, and everyone’s favourite trope to finish with: there was only one bed... Wordcount: 4744

Part One (sfw), Part Two (sfw)

Neither of the aliens was anywhere to be seen when you finally stepped out into the chilly, misty morning after a night of broken sleep. Your neck twinged and your back hurt something fierce after so many nights with nothing but a flimsy camping mat between you and the lumpy forest floor. Arching your spine and hearing it pop quietly in the still air of the campsite, you moaned and wished for a comfy bed and a hot bath.

“The hell am I doing…?” you whispered.

Groggy, stiff, and more than a little sticky and gritty after days of hiking alone through the pine forest, you knew that face wipes were just not going to cut it for the fourth day in a row.

Given that it would be three days until their backup arrived, you figured you’d hang around the crash site — see if you couldn’t get them to open up a bit more about their culture, and about these other terrifying aliens they were hunting — and then slip away well before their help arrived. No need to push your luck with a species that was not known for being universally peaceful with strangers; after all, their backup might mistake you for the reason they were shot down…

You poked your head into the now-cool wreckage of their ship and stared around at the dark grey, polished metal walls and surfaces. Some areas though looked more like black, woven carbon fibre than metal, with glowing gold panels behind like carved, back-lit amber. They were too far off to see properly though, and with the grounded ship sitting at that angle, it was difficult to make out much else. There were a few doorways and compartments you could have poked around in, but since neither Big Red nor Croc was anywhere to be found in the limited area of the grounded ship that was still accessible, and since you couldn’t read the glyphs on any of the surfaces, you decided to leave it all well alone.

Their stuff was all still at the campsite though, stacked neatly beneath the tarpaulin. They hadn’t tramped off during the night to meet their rescuers at a different rendezvous point then, and you stood with your hands on your hips and stared around the campsite. Your breath fogged the air in front of you and you watched it twist and billow.

For a moment, it seemed as though the scent of fresh smoke drifted through the silent trees, but it could just have been coming from the wreckage, eddying in slow-spiralling drafts around the crash site. The acrid smell of it got in your nose and made you scowl and cough.

Your canteen needed refreshing and a glance down at your hiking gear brought a grimace to your face. After digging out a camping towel and the rest of your dirty laundry from your pack, you headed back to the stream from the previous night to rinse it out, wondering all the while where your two companions were. Even though the autumn air was cold, your clothes were all made of light, quick-drying fabric, and with an abundance of summer-dry pine wood all around you — half of it conveniently shattered to kindling from the impact of the crash — you’d have no trouble starting a fire if you needed a bit more heat.

With no one in sight when you reached the creek, you started by rinsing out your clothes in the clear water. The cold bit into your hands, piercing right down to the bone and making your movements slow and clumsy, but with that eventually done, you draped your laundry temporarily over a branch and weighed up whether you wanted to risk hypothermia just to get yourself clean for a while.

Deciding that getting briefly cold was preferable to remaining perpetually sticky, you stripped off and stepped down into the gully again. The basin of rock at the bottom was just deep enough and wide enough to stand in so that the water came up to lap around your ankles, but it wasn’t the kind of dreamy plunge pool worthy of a travel blog. It was slippery, slimy with green algae, and excruciatingly cold. Still, it would be enough for what your grandmother used to call a ‘cat’s lick and a promise’.

Stark naked, you dunked your upper body into the spattering stream of water and bit back a shriek as it hit your flesh. Hunched over and leaning close to the mossy wall, you rinsed your head and face, scrubbed beneath your arms and briefly between your legs, and then turned your back on the stream to rinse off your shoulders and back.

Turning around revealed a sliver of the view between the trees of the horseshoe valley below, and, more immediately, Big Red standing on a boulder about twenty paces away.

He wasn’t watching you though. Quite the contrary, he had his back to you and was staring off at the same sliver of forest framed by trees, but nevertheless you yelped in surprise at finding him there.

“I will not look,” he said in response.

“Fucking hell,” you spat back at him through chattering teeth as your whole body started to spasm from the cold. “How long have you been there?”

“Not long. I heard movement as I was coming back up the hill, but discovered… you.”

“Right.”

Perfect.

An alien had probably just seen you buck fucking naked, even if for only a second.

“Fuck. Fuck it’s cold.” You thought you heard him chitter a little laugh as you careered and splashed out of the stream like a panicked wildebeest and floundered up towards your camping towel to dry yourself off.

All the while you flailed around with the towel, Big Red remained completely silent and unmoving. Eventually — dry, dressed, and a little bit warmer — you turned around to find him exactly as you’d last seen him, staring out at the misty forest below.

There was something eerily melancholic in the set of his colossal shoulders and the stack of his spine though, and you paused, leaving your laundry where it was and approaching him quietly from behind.

Perhaps it was the cold that had taken the majority of your brain cells offline, but you came over to stand beside him on the flat rock and looked up at him. “Are you alight?” you asked in a soft murmur.

At that, he tilted his head down at you, mask glinting in the misty morning light. “Yes,” he said. After a beat he added, “We — ‘Croc’ and I — We burned our fallen squad-mate’s body at dawn.”

That explained the smoke on the air. With all the goings on of the previous evening, you’d forgotten that he’d said there had been one more.

Your heart twisted in your chest at his words and you reached instinctively for his bare bicep to squeeze the solid muscle with half-frozen fingers. “I’m so sorry,” you said, and turned to leave. “I won’t intrude.”

“Your presence is… welcome,” he rasped, though he returned his attention to the view. “You do not have to leave, though you have lost a lot of heat in that water.”

With a cosy fleece on to help warm you up, it was hardly an inconvenience to keep Big Red company for a while.

Neither of you broke the silence for a long time. Red just stood there with his hands cupped under his elbows, arms hugged across his bare chest, staring out at the trees in the crescent-moon valley below. It was choked in a pale fog beneath a heavy, iron-grey sky, and the details of the landscape blurred into nothing after no more than a quarter of a mile. Birds were still singing though, and Red seemed completely captivated by it.

Eventually, rocking on the balls of your feet to try and keep warm, you glanced back up at him. “What’s your planet like? ‘Secundus’, I mean.”

He spoke without looking down at you. “It is… not like this —” he gestured with his hand towards the gap in the trees “— Prime is more like this, but… the jungle there is… hot.”

“We’ve got hot and sweaty jungles here on Earth too. Croc might be happier there.”

Big Red nodded once.

“What about you?”

“I am used to… arid deserts,” he said. “Heat, sand, rock… Not trees for miles. Not… cold.” He said the word with such bafflement that you wondered if perhaps this was the coldest place he’d ever been.

“You’re cold now?” you asked and he nodded. With a little smirk, you said, “Well, maybe you should wear some more clothes then, you big exhibitionist.”

At that, Red did look down at you. At least, you thought he was looking. It was hard to tell with the mask on. His mandibles pinched inwards, puckering his mouth into a tight kind of scowl. “You are still below average temperature for a human,” he said.

“I’m warming up though. The walk back up to the camp should help too.”

Big Red nodded. “You should go.”

“Do you want me to?”

After a pause, he shook his head. The movement was so tiny you might have missed it altogether had not his braids clicked together softly.

“Can I ask you something else then?”

Again, he nodded. “So many questions.”

“Can you blame me?”

He laughed quietly at that and shook his head.

“Do you see in heat? In infra-red, I mean?”

Another nod. “I can see with my eyes too, but… they are weak. Especially here. The mask… lets me see the distance… and details.”

“Is that why you keep it on all the time?”

A long moment of silence stretched between you. “No.” He didn’t seem to want to elaborate more on that and you inhaled deeply, wondering what to ask next.

“How does it work?”

He sighed and raised his hand to his face. He lifted the mask off and immediately turned his face away from you again so that you couldn’t see him properly.

He was almost tall enough for it to work.

In profile though, you could just about see the delicate, prehensile mandibles, and a flat looking face that sloped up towards his large cranium, and you even glimpsed small, very deep-set eyes. His skin was a greyish red, like campfire ash, that faded to a pale, speckled gold in the centre of his face, and he didn’t seem to have the coronet of short spikes that Croc did just before the start of his cylindrical ‘braids’.

Without turning towards you, he stuck his hand out and offered his mask to you, inside facing upwards. You took it carefully in both hands, tearing your eyes away from what you could see of his face to stare at the mask, turning it over to stare at the smaller details. It was heavier than you’d expected it to be, but while the outside was made of stark, smooth bone, the inside was a warm, dark metal, similar to that of the ship’s interior. It was obvious that there were no eye-holes like there were in the metal ones you’d seen in the footage back at the base, and there were tiny little pads all over the inside that tingled when you ran your fingers over them. Some kind of electrode, perhaps.

“Is this how I saw all those images yesterday?” you asked and he grunted assent. “Never imagined I’d be plugging my brain into a piece of alien technology like it’s the fucking Matrix.”

He chirruped in confusion and almost turned to look at you, but caught himself in time. “I… do not understand.”

“It’s a film from the late nineties,” you muttered, returning your gaze to the mask and turning it over to look at the bone side. Trailing a fingertip along the tiny, almost cuneiform carvings that had been delicately engraved into the surface in an interlocking pattern, you asked, “Do you guys have movies?”

“Yes, but not like you do. They are… generated with… something close to what you call computer.”

“Boring. No actors and celebrities then?”

He shook his head. “We have famous warriors.”

“Naturally,” you quipped and he clicked his mandibles at you in amused agreement. “I think you’d like The Matrix,” you said, glancing up at him again. He was still angled away from you but you could feel his whole attention on you just the same. “I wonder if you could watch it in your head with this… Actually, that would be kind of perfect. The premise is that humanity is trapped in a kind of simulated reality, while machines feed off our bodies for energy but there’s this one guy — you know what, never mind. You should just watch it if you can.”

His mandibles twitched into what you’d come to assume was a slightly exasperated smile. He clicked at you but didn’t say anything in English.

When he didn’t move for a long stretch of minutes, either to take the mask back or to show you his face, you went out on a limb and asked, “Why don’t you want to look at me?”

He tensed and rotated his torso just a fraction further from you and shook his head, making his waxy ‘braids’ rattle against each other across his powerful shoulder and back muscles. The desire to touch, to feel his cool, hard skin beneath your fingertips was almost overwhelming again.

Exhaling in resigned defeat, you nudged his mask against the crook of his elbow and turned away while he took it in fumbling fingers. You left him standing on the rock and headed back up to the camp without looking at him. You were different species, after all, and you couldn’t expect to understand every little nuance of custom in a single day. Maybe Croc would explain it to you, if you could get him alone.

Croc was actually already back at camp when you trudged in with your armful of wet laundry, and he had started a cheery little campfire going too, despite the damp weather. You used the bit of spare cabling he offered you from the ship to string a temporary washing line between two trees, and draped your wet clothes over it to start drying off. That done, you approached Croc’s fire and asked if you could sit.

He grinned up at you from where he was perched on a crate and nodded enthusiastically.

“Big Red told me about your friend. I’m sorry,” you said.

Inclining his head formally, he said, “He is… at peace now. It is… the way of all our warriors.”

With a nod, you left the matter there. “How’s your arm?” It looked blackened and burned, but he seemed oddly sanguine about such a significant loss.

Again, he just shrugged.

“Is it… painful?”

Croc nodded. “A little,” he admitted. “But when we are… back on the mothership, I will… have a… How do humans call it…?” He mimed slotting something over the stump with his hand.

“A prosthetic?” you ventured.

“Yes! Though I have seen yours…” He didn't look impressed. “Ours are… permanent. Many warriors have… lost limbs… fighting the enemy. It is not so bad to… get made a new one.”

You nodded. “We could use tech like that,” you said under your breath. “Red told me a bit about this ‘enemy’ of yours… where are they from?”

The fire cracked and popped, and Croc told you what he could in his faltering way about the enemy they had fought for millennia on their planet. Apparently they had begun to spread off-world, and so his kind had followed, hunting them down. Croc then began to ask you a bit about your life, and about humans in general, and while you were sitting there, the mist thickened into a sheeting drizzle. You raced to pull in your laundry while Croc watched and laughed at you for trying to save the fabric, and once you’d dumped it all in your tent in a damp pile, you returned to sit with him again under the shelter of the tarp.

“Wear no clothes,” he said. “Then nothing to worry about!”

“Easy for you to say,” you scoffed, laughing. “Look at you! You’re both built like a tank!”

The rain drifted across the crash site in thick curtains, and despite the fleece and the protective tarpaulin, it wasn’t long before the elements started to creep down your collar and make you shiver.

“Red’s gonna get cold out there,” you murmured. There had been no sign of him for hours.

“Boss knows… how to take care of… himself,” Croc shrugged, but he didn't say it with his usual, affable confidence. He was worried about his friend too. “I must… take care of my weapon,” he announced, and you hoped to God that wasn't a euphemism.

Luckily it wasn’t, and he rose and returned a moment later from the ship with a complicated looking weapon that resembled some kind of sci-fi blaster gun. He laid it down on top of a crate, took out some kind of maintenance kit, and got to work.

You watched in silent fascination while he worked, and when he was just tightening the last screws on the casing, you asked about Red’s mask.

“Croc? Can I ask you something?”

He straightened up from his work, a tiny screwdriver held in his thick, clawed fingers like a surgeon’s knife. His yellow, reptilian eyes met yours, openly intrigued and he nodded. He seemed to enjoy answering your questions when he could.

“How come Big Red wears a mask all the time but you don��t? Is it a different species thing?”

Croc laughed at that, and half-turned his attention back to tightening whatever it was in the weapon that needed it. “No. But you have great honour… in seeing a warrior without their… helmet,” he said. There was a playful lilt to his tone that was almost self-effacing. From the way he said it, you got the impression that it would have been a great honour if he’d actually been given the choice about it, but now that it had happened, he didn’t mind.

His words kindled a sinking feeling in your gut though; Red clearly didn’t think you worthy enough of the honour of seeing his face, despite having saved his squad-mate’s life. Then again, you supposed it was fair enough. You barely knew him, and you were an alien too, in his eyes. Why should you get the honour of seeing him anyway?

Croc watched your reaction carefully. “My helmet…” he said, “It was destroyed… in the crash. When —” he cut off to make a series of clicks that clearly formed a name, though it didn’t sound like Red’s “— was killed and… that hole was blasted into the ship,” he said, indicating the gaping maw in the hull, “My helmet took… damage. Broken. I will manage without technology though.” With an honest-to-God, conspiratorial wink, he added, “Boss would struggle without his… He cannot see well with his eyes. And I am… much smarter than him. Adapt much better to Earth…” With another coltish grin he leaned in closer and added, “And much better looking, even to humans.”

Without warning, just as you barked a loud laugh, a small section of pine log hurtled through the air towards Croc. He spun and shot it out of the sky with the freshly-conditioned weapon, where it shattered to a spray of tinder on impact. He roared a belligerent, joyful challenge while debris rained down around you, and you turned to see Big Red standing on the far edge of the clearing, his shoulders rising and falling noticeably as he breathed. Then he spread his jaws as wide as he had when he’d charged you down the day before, and bellowed back at Croc.

Croc laughed and shook his head, responding to his superior in their own language. Croc then shot you a look when you just stood there in shock. “He challenges me. You are doubly honoured, human,” he said with a wry intonation that wasn’t dimmed by his difficulties in getting the sounds out around his sharp mandibles. “You get to watch two great warriors of our kind fight.”

“But… your arm,” you faltered, horrified. “Croc, you’re still healing…”

The shock must have shown in your face because he just laughed again. “We spar, small human… Not a real fight. Though,” he added with a few taunting clicks of his mandibles in Red’s direction, “Boss will not hold back.”

The ensuing fight took your breath away.

Croc reached into the cavity of the ship and tossed a small, metal stave over at Red, who caught it deftly and activated it to turn it into another one of the long, harpoon-like spears that were holding up two points of the canvas roof over part of the campsite.

The clearing naturally formed a kind of fighting ring, and the two circled each other with the familiarity of old sparring partners.

Croc said something that was clearly a taunt, but Red didn’t fall for it. He let Croc go first, whirling the spear around one-handed with surprising deftness. He clearly missed his other arm though, and went to grab the spear with a limb that was no longer there a few times, but once the two got into their stride, it was incredible. They danced around each other until finally Red struck with whip-crack speed. He swept Croc’s legs out from under him and held him in place on his back with the spear point steady at his throat. When Croc clicked at him, Red stepped back formally and waited for him to rise.

Red was faster and more precise than Croc, but Croc, even with his recently-acquired disability, was as powerful as his namesake, and more than once he knocked Red to the ground with a grunt of expelled air from his lungs. Once he even nicked Red’s upper arm with the blade at the tip of the spear, sending a trickle of lime green blood down his rust-red skin.

The way they moved together through the rain in perfect synchrony was mesmeric. Time passed, and it could have been minutes or hours before they finally drew to a halt.

They bowed, breathing hard, mandibles open, and then stepped close to one another. Touching foreheads as they had done the previous day, they touched their fang-tips to each other’s and then relaxed, turning away. Both of them were breathing hard, chests rising and falling while the rain poured off them like water down a cliff face.

“I’ve seen the soldiers on the base fight before…” you said as Red stalked over and grabbed a canteen of his own from the ship’s supplies, upending it into his stretching maw. The liquid was an unappetising pinkish-purple, the same as the plants you’d seen in the footage of the alien they were hunting, and although he drank deeply, he was obviously listening to you. “…But I’ve never seen anyone fight like that. You two are…”

“Impressive?” Croc grinned, coming up beside Red and slapping his commander on the small of his back, well out of the way of his braids.

Red tossed a snide comment over his shoulder at Croc, who laughed. “I can still… almost beat him… with only one arm. Boss is losing his… edge. Even with an audience.”

Big Red shook his head and quietly offered Croc the bottle, which he took.

The three of you settled down by the fire after that while the weather worsened, and by late afternoon, you had listened to them tell you, in their stilted, awkward way of speaking English, about how their ships worked, what the structure of their society was like, and roughly how many of their kind there were on Earth at the moment. Not many. Not enough to face the enemy, you realised.

“You’re going to need humans to get involved in this hunt too, aren’t you?” you asked, and after exchanging a brief look, both Croc and Red nodded. “You want me to talk to my boss when I get back?”

“I will show you… what you need to know… about them,” Big Red said, tapping his mask with a claw again. “You can tell them. Prepare.”

Puffing your cheeks out, you exhaled and nodded.

They ate rations that seemed similar to what you were living off — necessary, but not something they’d pick given the choice — and as night closed in and the weather picked up to a lashing rain, you dashed across the muddy crash site and dived into your tent for the night to write up your notes. You had a small camera with you, but you hadn’t dared ask them if they would consent to being filmed, and something about it made you feel… wrong somehow. It turned them from a vastly intelligent, sapient race into something akin to laboratory specimens for analysis, and that didn’t sit right with you.

Three hours later, as a full-blown storm crashed down on the forest outside, you began to shiver. It wasn’t so much the cold, though the damp was creeping up through the earth, through the groundsheet and into the mat, but good, old-fashioned fear. You’d never been outside in this kind of weather before, and although your tent was military-issue, its flapping walls felt very flimsy.

A tree fell with an ear-rending series of cracks a little while later and you forced yourself to breathe steadily. It did absolutely nothing for your galloping heart rate, and you curled in on yourself, huddling more tightly in your sleeping bag and trying not to whimper. Like a child, you wanted to draw something over your head and hide away until it was all over.

An indistinct roar rose above the howling wind and you opened your eyes to see a figure silhouetted against the fabric of your tent like a slasher from a horror movie. For a wild moment, your mind went completely blank until you recognised the timbre of the roar. It was Big Red.

With shaking fingers, you unzipped your tent and a face full of rain and spray blasted in almost immediately.

“Not safe…” Red growled, reaching into your tent with his huge hand and practically yanking you to your feet.

“Wait!” you shrieked, flailing. “Let me put some boots on before you drag me out into a fucking storm!”

Red released you and stepped back. Water cascaded in rivulets down his bare, hard skin, and the contours of his body were illuminated by the steady glow of a flashlight that must have come from their ship.

You stuffed your feet into your boots, grabbed your phone and the small emergency pack from the top of your rucksack, and bundled yourself up into a waterproof.

Praying that your flimsy tent would still be there in the morning, you stepped out, zipped it up again, and scuttled at Red’s side towards the hole in the side of the hull of his ship.

“Now what?” you yelled up at him above the racket of the wind that raced past the opening.

Red didn’t waste time with words, and just pointed. A small hatch was open in the ship’s inner wall that you could have sworn was closed earlier, and you ducked unquestioningly through it to find a cosy chamber, though everything was rotated ninety degrees after the crash. A bunk had been bolted to the bulkhead, but Red had dragged the mattress off it and laid it on the wall which was now the floor.

“If you do not… mind,” he said. “You may sleep here. It is safer than out there.”

You nodded. “What about you?”

“I will go with Croc.”

Red turned to go, but something made you call out to him. “Wait.”

He stopped halfway through ducking out of the doorway and regarded you.

“You could stay,” you said. “I’m smaller than Croc. You’ll have more room.”

“You… would not… mind?”

With a little smile, you shrugged out of your waterproof and crossed to hang it from a peg near the door. He watched you closely, as though expecting you to change your mind.

The water that was still dripping off your coat made a musical little rhythm as it hit the floor and you shook your head. “So long as you dry yourself off first, I don’t mind at all.”

___

Next Chapter --->

I hope you’re still enjoying where this is going! Your asks and tags in the reblogs have kept me going these last couple of days, so thank you.

If you happen to have a couple of bucks spare, you could always drop a tip on my Ko-fi, but reblogs are just as welcome and just as helpful! More soon, I hope... I know where it’s going - I just have to write it and things are about to get super busy in my life.

| Masterlist | Ko-fi (tip jar)

#yautja #yautja x reader #feral predator x reader #feral predator inspired #yautja inspired #alien x reader #male yautja x reader #male yautja #male alien x reader #gender neutral reader #gn reader #exophilia #monster boyfriend #alien boyfriend

[lieutenanthowell]

ACT I, chapter i, STORY BEAT - Introductions

He wasn't late. Just arriving no earlier, at all, than was remotely acceptable. Because he didn't want to fucking be there. It was nothing more malicious than that. Guin could read a goddamn site map. Could keep himself fed, watered, laundered, caffeinated. When a need arose, he'd hunt down whatever was on the other end of it. Point was, given back the who-knows-how-long this whole affair turned out to be, he'd figure out some better way to spend the time. Wouldn't be hard.

Still, low as his expectations were, Chi-00 managed worse. Ankle-shattering, really. He'd swayed to a stop just inside the door, his scan of the small, settling crowd fixing once, twice. Christ. So. That's how it was. That's just how it was gonna be.

Well. Spared him figuring out a few texts, anyway. Didn't it? No. Not really. He'd never been one for silver linings. That shit was always thin as tinfoil, when you really looked at it.

So he sat. At the back. Nearest the door. Easy to see everything he might need to, from there. Easy to leave, first, after however these my-dumbass-callsign-is-s were done with. Not that it mattered too much, in his case; what the hell could a codename really do for him? Hardly any of his life at all was on record. At least, outside the Foundation itself. And the closest thing he had to connections, people to keep compartmentalized away from all this - if he'd been the kind of moron who figured he could pull that off, which he never was - were here. Or dead. Or gone.

The get-to-know-yous dragged on for a little longer, out there; Guin, he'd set his combat boots flat on the floor and closed his eyes. Against the simmering fluorescent lights, all these eyes he did and didn't know. Didn't do dick for the noise, of course, echoing off the glassy walls of this too-small room. Couldn't close them out, either. Both of them, the last two people he - Christ. Both of them. Vera, with that loved-thin green jacket slung over the chair next to her. Like she was waiting for someone. That someone they'd been waiting for, ever since that night in the snow. And Nadia, wound tighter than any steel trap. Could see that grip she had on herself working all the way up her arms, caught between her teeth, the lock of her jaw.

He'd seen them. They'd seen him. And they'd all have a goddamn year locked into this, to - do their jobs. Together. Again. Shit.

He could do that. Sure. He could do this, too. Wasn't even any microphone in hand, onstage crap. Guin stayed put as the first impressions kicked off, tracking the room's interest from person to person. His own ticked to each face in turn, then away, as he listened to everybody storm or stumble through their introductions. Then - then all that attention settled on his shoulders. He didn't stand. Just spread his hands. Present. Accounted for. "I'm, ah - Dying Breed. Apparently." Which was funny, seeing as... he had something like a laugh about it, anyway. Only vaguely like a laugh. "All you need to know is: I'll do whatever I can to get you out of any trouble you're in. That'll be the case even if I don't like you much. And if all you are is pieces, then - same goes. I'll get something of you home, if I can." He side-slid his jaw, feeling the tug of that still-newish scar, tight. His stare had found the analog clock tick-ticking on the wall; it glared back, like there was something else he was supposed to say, or do, but... God, there was always something. Wasn't there? That's what all that debriefing always came down to, right? That there was always something you should've done different. Would've, could've.

His cut-up cheek twitched - snarl-like, a glimpse of teeth to it - as he lipped a cigarette out of the pack he'd fished from his tac pants. "But chances are you won't hear shit from me until we're in the field in any kind of way. Or unless this place goes to hell." Guin scuffed the low knuckle of his thumb across and around the socket of his left eye, squinting as he considered his matchbook. "So - until then. Uh..." Another toss of his hands, a half-shake of his head. "Watch out." On that dead-flat note, he rocked out of his chair. "Taking a fifteen, boss," he rasped, flicking a loose salute in the general direction of their new commander, presumably. Then he did precisely that.

#fhq.plot #fhq.I.i #fhq.I.i.sb - introductions

[drifloonz]

can you do one where glitchy red meets his s/o through the game. At first he doesn’t trust them, but slowly starts to trust them when they tell him they relate to his feeling of being forgotten and discarded 👀

ofc, ofc !! this man is so affection and touchstarved fr . please give his gameboy screen a little kiss. he probably won't feel it but he'll appreciate it. i also actually Wrote for this one bc i felt like it was more appropriate. these have little timeskips or pov changes which are indicated whenever i separate paragraphs with the _ symbol. hope u enjoy.

this is long but i think most people know i write more than necessary at this point + this is Actual Writing and not a bulleted hc post

It was your typical Friday evening - you were walking around a local game store you've grown quite familiar with these past couple of months, visiting it every so often since it had a lot more agreeable prices than the egregious ones people asked for on sites like eBay. You usually came here with one goal in mind - find some sweet old games that caught your eye, maybe even a console if you felt like it, and take some home to play eventually. It was a nice schedule you had, and it got you out of the house a lot more often, which you always needed since otherwise, you were pretty much a hermit.

And after all, you had a lot more spending money recently in the past few years. You've always loved videogames - so you decided to make it a habit to go here more often, trying to play more of the games you couldn't afford or find back when you were a lot younger... but today, one particular cartridge caught your eye - on one of those Used Games racks you'd see at some stores, stuck in plastic protective casing since it no longer had a box connected to it... was a copy of the original pokemon games.

These original games felt elusive to you as a child. You were a little too young to grow up with them - your first Pokemon Games being around the DS era. You know what they looked like and the basics of it all... but why the hell not? Revisiting classics was all you came to this store to do, so you might as well snag it. After all, it was even used and really really cheap, compared to prices you'd see elsewhere. You'd prefer a fresh copy with the box included, but you'll take what you can get, especially since most people would make you pay outrageous money for an untouched copy, so... score.

You decided to open the display case and take it with you, beginning the walk to the cash register, but also keeping an eye out for anything else interesting. After all, you had a lot more money than just the 6$ or so the cartridge was being sold at... and you then realized you didn't even have a Gameboy - your old childhood hand-me-down Gameboy Color is probably long gone or dead by now. And like destiny, your eyes met with a rack full of Gameboys. Originals, Colors, Advances, SPs... It was beautiful, truly. But one caught your eye. A red Gameboy Color. You might as well buy a red one, right? It fit the namesake of the cartridge you were basically buying this for anyways. You looked around for a few more minutes, before buying only those two - it was a decent haul, you'd say.

... Little did you know, you were also taking home a consciousness you weren't aware of.

_

Although he wasn't able to do anything since he was either taken out of the console or shut down ( he couldn't tell, not remembering what the last player did clearly anyways, which he'd assume means they'd suddenly shut off the console without warning ) he could hear. Barely, but he could.

Muffled sounds, blurry voices, and distant music that rang throughout whatever building he was in, now. It was sort of grating, this disorienting cacophony of noises that felt far away yet so close at the same time... ringing in his ears like a migraine that wouldn't go away.

It was better than the noise he was subjected to in the game, which he got a respite from when he wasn't there, but he could still hear faint buzzing in his ears due to how often he had to hear loud grating sounds within his 2D hell, mainly when somebody decided to mess with the glitches in the game - which almost every player did without fail. He could never have a peaceful playthrough without the person failing to see it to the end, and either pawning him off, or getting bored and deciding to mess the game up against his wishes.

Oh well. He can vaguely feel the texture of being placed in some sort of bag, as the sounds muffle further. He doesn't believe this time will be different. Why would it?

_

Eventually, you return home, holding your backpack in hand. You usually brought it with you, since sometimes you'd overspend and sort of need a backpack to carry everything - but this time you were pretty good with your impulsive spending. You immediately walked upstairs to your room, opening the door and feeling that familiar warmth, and the whir of the fan you kept on for background noise. You opened your backpack, setting down your two finds on your desk... as you open the plastic protective casing of the Gameboy cartridge, and realize something.

The transparent casing it was held in to protect it seemed to hide the fact that it looked... a lot cheaper than a legitimate copy should be - the sticker looking more saturated and not really form-fitting to the cartridge it was stuck on. But maybe someone just tore up the sticker and tried to replace it...?

You never really played the OG Pokemon Red - it was a little past your era, as stated before - so it's not like you truly knew, but... the cartridge also felt off, like it was made with what you can only describe as plastic that felt like it was supposed to be used on a McDonald's toy rather than a game cartridge. Oh well. It was cheap anyway, and that'd probably be why.

You just hope it wasn't damaged.

To take your mind off of the possible disappointment, you quickly take out the newly bought Gameboy Color and insert the cartridge inside. The old yet familiar jingle plays through the bit-crushed speakers, as the intro plays... You realize you never even played FireRed or LeafGreen either - really, your only exposure to Kanto was through Lets Go, which you didn't have the energy to finish - the Pokemon Go gimmicks in it being kind of obnoxious in your opinion - and through Heartgold and Soulsilvers postgame... which sort of had terrible level scaling, now that you think back on it. You have to replay those too, one day. Just not today.

The original pokemon theme plays at the title screen, as you simply pause and listen to it for a while, enjoying the nostalgia for something that you've never even played... until you get impatient and simply press the play button, starting a new save. Normally, you'd name the protagonist your own name - but since you couldn't pick a gender ( the girl / feminine protagonists designs just looked better in your opinion ) and you didn't really feel personally attached to the OG - and you also couldn't customize him as you could with the protagonists in Gen 6 and onward. So you decided to just keep his name as plain and simple RED.

He was much more of an existing character than a blank-slate protagonist to you anyways, but that's probably just because you didn't grow up with this game. You know, come to think about it, it's sort of funny this original RED design never stuck. Ash was his anime counterpart ( although Red also appears in the anime but isn't the central protagonist and is usually moreso in spinoff animes ) and in Firered and Leafgreen he eventually got redesigned... You sort of liked his original colors and black hair. You think they kept that design for Lets Go since it was a faithful(..ish) remake, and also something something Pokemon timeline theory, but you didn't really know. Eh.

After naming your rival BLUE to fit with choosing the "canon" names, you began playing. Nothing seemed off, yet. Maybe the cartridge just got a little messed up and they had to fix it as best they could for it to be presentable or something? Who knows.

You play as normal, noticing that Red seemed to... sometimes have internal monologues? Once again. You never played the original pokemon red, hell, not even FRLG, but you don't think that's supposed to be like that... but you simply let it be. It was probably normal, right?

You at least... hoped it was.

_

A few hours pass, as you seem to play as normally as a Pokemon Red player could - relatively, at least. You obviously weren't a child from the way you played, grinding in certain spots for longer than necessary, nicknaming your Pokemon things that were legible and had interesting meanings ( not that he'd admit that ), and doing pretty well for yourself overall - even catching as many pokemon as you could per area. This wasn't necessarily a good thing - it was almost always the adults that happened to mess with him the most, despite their nostalgia... He didn't make his presence too clear yet. His body ached from being forced to move, but he got used to it. He always did.

He's felt this all before. Experienced it all before. Nothing surprises him at this point - players are awfully predictable when there's only a limited amount of things you can do in a game, especially one like the OG Pokemon Red. He even usually guessed what his players would catch and put on their team accurately, about 90% of the time - it wasn't different with you, not whatsoever. None of this was new.

The way you played seemed... innocent, for now. But that's how it always started, didn't it? Innocent, unassuming... until they've decided they're done playing the game in its intended way, and try to play god with the world he lived in. He knew the second whoever was behind the screen this time - because he had a sneaking suspicion the asshole who got a hold of him last time pawned him off - would just get bored like all the others, and mess with things that were not to be messed with. Same old, same old.

After you beat your third gym, he starts to get tired of this, almost wishing you'd get bored faster so his hope would be crushed even faster, and so he'd just get it all over with.

He might as well make his own torment go faster, at least.

_

[ Why are you doing this? ]

The textbox appears out of nowhere in a point you were absolutely certain it wasn't supposed to - you weren't talking to anybody... And.. no matter how much you pressed A, the text wouldn't advance. Your eyes widen in slight fear. You knew something was up... and you were enjoying your time, too.

You didn't know how to respond. I mean, why would you? It's just a game, it's just probably some edited code. Until the textbox scrolls, slowly spelling out something else.

[ Speak. ]

You read the text and don't do what it asks for a solid minute, going through all of this in your head. The funny thing is that other than the game clearly trying to talk to you, you almost found it more disturbing that the textbox was using italics. You don't think the pokemon red font ever had italics...??? It almost implied that whoever was talking to you was trying to express a certain tone, despite only communicating through text. You... were curious. And scared.

"Why can't you?" you speak out loud - despite it seeming improbable that the device could hear you. But it was clearly asking.

[ That's a stupid question. ]

Is all the textbox responds with. Fair enough, you supposed, but that was... pretty rude. You sigh, and decide to just answer the question, since this thing can hear you. You hoped this was a fucked up fever dream.

"Fine. Doing what? Playing... the game..? Do you want me to do something else?" You ask the strange entity, confused and a little more frustrated than you are scared now.

[ I don't care. ] It starts. [ Do whatever you want. ]

"You don't seem to want me to do what I want, considering you stopped me." You call the entity out. The textbox is simply three dots for a second, before deciding to respond.

[ Maybe I don't want to be bothered... ] The textbox scrolls, as the player sprite, RED, walks a tile forward - despite textboxes usually not allowing you to move - and also, you didn't move him. He moved by himself. You start to connect the puzzle pieces. [ By someone who's just here to take advantage of me again. ]

You feel a little guilty. You didn't know exactly... what he meant? But you begin to realize that... this was RED, at least, you think. He did have some oddly introspective inner thoughts that you feel weren't supposed to happen... so it all lined up.

"... all i'm doing is trying to play." You say, looking guilty. He almost felt bad. Almost.

[ That's what they always say, until they get tired and throw me away like some toy. ]

If you felt cheekier, you'd tell him that the GameBoy is technically a toy, but that'd just feel unnecessarily rude and unwarranted right now. You avert your eyes, feeling ... some sort of heavy gaze on you, despite the only people in the room being you and... technically RED. You ... related to his plight. Not because you were a seemingly sentient character trapped in a game, no, just because you felt like people'd replace you at a moment's notice and throw you away for "better" people, or whenever they get tired of you.

"What do you even mean by that?"

[ No one cares about me. They replaced me without a second thought. And anybody who comes back to play this broken game simply does it to exploit it, not to enjoy it as it was meant. ]

You ponder his words for a moment, before even more seem to show up - you... seemed to hit a sensitive spot.

[ My body isn't even mine. My autonomy doesn't belong to me, it belongs to whoever decides to puppeteer me that day. ]

The textbox continues, but you cut it off, noticing that he's essentially rambling to himself... in text form. "So what do you want me to do? Turn off the game? Just... stop playing?"

The textbox pauses again, simply turning back to the sloooowly typed [ ... ] it seems to turn into when he's thinking.

[ Just give me a break. For at least a little while. Don't turn it off, though. ] He says. He doesn't expect you to follow through, but... you simply abide by his wishes, sighing and propping the Gameboy against a wall.

_

For weeks and weeks, that's just how it'd continue. He'd sometimes let you play, either opting to barely say anything, or sometimes being particularly talkative that day, usually to be slightly rude and criticize your choices. It was sort of annoying, but oh well. Other times, he simply wanted to be left alone, but you notice he barely requests to be turned off. He understands it if the battery is low, but other than that... he doesn't seem to like the idea of it. Which you can understand. You'd assume it'd be like going into a coma where someone else controls when you wake up.

Eventually, though, he'd open up to you more and more. Baby steps, but still steps.

"...You know, I always sort of preferred the original Red design."

[ ... Really? ]

He felt like he was blushing. Not that you could tell, nor could he... but it made him feel nice. It didn't help that you saying that came out of nowhere, but he'd grown used to it. You seemed socially awkward, so he didn't mind.

That day, you two simply conversed more about Red's issues. You wanted to understand him better... And he liked that you seemed to care.

_

It was some... day. He didn't know. He didn't care to ask, nor did it mean much to him. You were rambling on and on about some of the newer generations to him with such a passion... he learned earlier on that you'd never played the original games, which intrigued him - it was mostly only people that had played them and wanted to mess around who ever got a hold of his cartridge. He simply nodded along, sometimes asking questions, as you continued to tell him about the future pokemon games. You'd even show him pictures of some of your favorite new 'mons, since somehow he was able to see whatever was put in front of the screen.

He knew a little bit about the newer generations, but not too much admittedly... but the way you talked about them with so much passion was... endearing. He smiled a little, not even realizing until a few seconds later.

He realized he'd developed feelings. For a player. It made him feel almost sick, even. He knew how easily his trust could be betrayed... but... maybe he could have that little spark of hope for once. Maybe he could pretend you'd be better. For once. But the way he'd hear you sometimes laugh - a genuinely positive response to the things he'd say... it was cute. It made him feel like a person again, and not just some toy to drag around.

He really liked... just, everything about you. The way you acted, the way you'd listen to his problems and often would even relate to them - he vividly remembers a conversation about also feeling like you were easily replaceable and how people just are like that sometimes - and your voice... He didn't have high standards whatsoever, but god you were out of his league. You were also... absolutely stunning from what he could see. He was smitten and he fucking hated it. God. He's mentally facepalming himself. How could this even happen to him?

It's only when he sees you looking back at the screen expecting an answer that he realizes he tuned every one of your words out while mentally panicking.

[ ... uh. Can you repeat that? ] He feels bad for asking, but he didn't want to pretend he was listening. "Oh, sure!" You give him a smile... your smile was pretty too. He wishes he saw it more often. ... why is he even thinking this about you? It's probably because you're the only one who's been this kind. He chalks it up to that and pretends to forget.

_

The feeling didn't go away. It was practically eating at his heart to not tell anyone, to not act on it. It was almost worst than anything he's been subjected to unwillingly by players. ... That was hyperbole, but he's allowed to be a little dramatic, he thinks.

You two were having some conversation about something not that important again, before he interrupts you.

[ ... Y/N. ]

He practically never refers to you by name, despite learning yours early on. It felt a bit too... intimate, too personal. But now he was using it because of that fact.

He sees your eyebrows raise. "Hm?"

[ I have something to tell you... that I've wanted to for a long time. ]

He sees your expression turn, looking curious. You definitely didn't know, which was making his nerves act up more and more. "... go on?"

[ ... I think, I'm in love with you. ]

"... you're not joking, right?" You say. He couldn't discern your voice or tone... and it scared him a little.

[ Why would I be? ]

You don't respond. He just stares, looking for a response, as he sees you smile a little. That was good. Smiling was good.

"... really?"

[ Yes. ]

He responded simply. He began to smile a little too, which was slightly visible on his sprite. He... sees your face get a little red.

"I," you start, before covering your face a little. "Wow..." You seemed to be at a loss for words. He.. feels happy about making you look so cute and flustered.

"I uhm, I.. think I'm the same way, but I never told you cuz' I... didn't think you'd feel the same." You avert your eyes. This was news to him.

[ Really? ] He starts. [ That's... so... are.. we...? ] He begins to flub his words, before straightening himself out again. [ ... Are we, uh, dating then? ]

He has no idea how to socialize with people ''normally'', and it shows. You two connected together well due to that, actually. You didn't judge him for it, and he didn't judge you for it.

"I'm not sure how I'll kiss you, but... yea. If you wanna be, I'd be happy to." You smile genuinely at him, face still red as your own heart pounds in excitement... God, you were beautiful to him.

[ I'll find a way. ] Is all he says, which would be Vaguely Ominous in any other situation, but here it just made your heart fill with butterflies. The rest of the day was spent between you two just chatting and conversing, and flirting with each other in mostly cheesy ways. Red even called you some petnames, just to test the waters. Almost all of them made you blush, no matter how cheesy they were. It felt... nice.

_

That night, you dreamt... of him. It wasn't your first dream of him, nor would it be the last, but in every previous dream his figure felt much harder to discern, much foggier as if he didn't want his presence to be known. He'd never speak or do anything other than stare at you.

But this time he looked and felt so real. He looked much older and more tired than he did in his tiny little overworld sprite... but you liked it. He simply walked up to you, and started giving you chaste kisses all over your face. You wondered if this was what his kisses would feel like if he were actually here with you... You blushed with every kiss, returning a few to his cheeks. He smiled, and he looked happy for the first time in a long time. Before you woke up, he hugged you tightly - almost too tightly - until the dream faded away, but the warmth of his hug never faded.

The next morning, you woke up to someone holding you.

#wispy writes #glitchy red x reader #glitchy red #fanfic #( technically. i guess. ) #actual Story Time bc im slightly tired of doing the bulletlist headcanon format <- ( i ramble too much in it ) #i made whether he Got out of the game or not ambiguous bc that can be a whole different post in itself but the implication is Yea probably #i projected a lot of myself in the main character sorry not sorry #this took so long but im proud of it so hehehe #also yea its supposed to end abruptly #i dont know what to title this. it doesnt need a title but if i ever make a sequel or refer to this specific writing itd be helpful

[i-am-focused]

You're kidding me right?

Din Djarin x gn(ish) afab reader

Summary: You're a mechanic on Naboo, and you see the Razor crest crash. The Mandalorian reluctantly lets you help him repair the ship but you're interrupted when some weird ass pollen has you both very ... affected.

Warnings: Fem pet names but non specific pronouns only, smut, sex pollen, Dubcon kinda, Helmet comes off but you don't see his face, p in v penetration, begging, din is a little submissive, he's not experienced but a quick learner, pretty much everything is in here tbh

Word count - 8.9k (jeez this got away from me)

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

It was a warm afternoon, as was the norm on Naboo. Business was slow, all of your usual customers either found someone else to do their repairs or you’re just so good at your job they don’t need any. So here you found yourself, wandering through the trees a few miles from your ranch. Trying to stick to the overgrown and winding trail through the forest but as you continue it seems to be less and less defined, splitting off into many smaller and narrower trails where people have given up on it. You know you aren’t too far from the coast, if you keep your current pace you could probably spend around a few hours relaxing in the sand by the lake before it gets too late for you to head back, it’s been a long time since you had any time to yourself. 

You continued your hike through the roots that almost seemed like they were intentionally trying to trip you, but as you paused for a moment, taking a sip from your canteen, you saw a ship heading towards you. Well, kind of a ship. It looked like it was falling apart, the engines in flames as it rapidly lost altitude before disappearing behind the trees. You estimate two miles ahead of you. Whatever, might as well check it out. It’s on the way to the coast anyway. 

As you approach the crash site the air is smokey, there were some scattered parts around the clearing where the ship had crashed. Walking up to the wreckage quietly, you wonder if there were any survivors. Sure it wasn’t the worst crash you’d seen but it was still bad, you almost found yourself backing away because you knew it would be hell to fix even if there was someone remaining to help. Might as well get a new ship at this point. Peering through one of the several holes in the ship’s hull, you can't see much except shrapnel and smoke. Seeing no signs of life you shrug, turning around to return to the trail. There’s still time to go to the coast- 

“Hold it,”

You hear a voice from behind you, weirdly mechanical but very clearly living. You freeze where you are, raising your hands up to your head slowly. “Drop the bag and turn around slow,”

You follow the instructions, you’ve dealt with plenty of rough customers considering that that’s your primary base of clients. Turning around you’re greeted with a taller man, head to toe covered in beskar armor, a Mandalorian. You’d only seen a couple Mandalorians before, seeking smaller repairs to weapons or smaller ships. Now facing him he had his blaster raised to your head, not a great sign, but in his other arm there was a small bundle…a… child? You hadn’t seen any mandalorian children before, this child wasn’t wearing any armor and was not of any species known to you. As you stared at the bundle, a voice from behind the visor recaptured your attention, “Hey, don’t look at him, look at me.”

He continued, “I could kill you right now. You with a group? Why are you out here?”

You stumbled over your words “I, um, I was just going to the beach. I’m a mechanic, ‘live a little bit away from here and I saw your ship go down. It’s just me.” 

The helmet didn’t move, the blaster still steadily aimed at your head. You swallowed, the fear slowly building in your chest. Keeping your hands raised, you tilted your head towards the bag on the ground next to you, “Listen, you can check the bag and me,” Giving him your name and a brief introduction you continue, “I don't have any weapons other than a knife in the bag but you’re making me wish I did, I am a mechanic, there are tools and stuff in there. And not to be presumptuous but you seem like you might some help.”

You glanced over toward the burning ship. Praying that the very shiny and intimidating man didn’t shoot you where you stood, you mustered up your best friendly-and-harmless smile. Silence fell over the clearing for a moment before he started to step towards you. Walking up to you he said “I’m checking you and your bag for weapons. If you’re lying, you’re dead.”

He knelt down, setting the child down next to him before rummaging through your bag, pulling out tools and emergency clothes. You were somewhat embarrassed when he pulled out your underwear and other spare clothes and quickly tossed it to the side before he stood up in front of you. He began to pat you down, checking for holsters or anything you may have hidden on your person, this was also awkward but hey, if it stopped you from getting killed in the middle of nowhere? No complaints. 

“Am I a clean officer?” You said jokingly, not really knowing if you were on good enough footing to be making jokes. He grunted, “Yeah, you’re fine to continue on your way or do whatever.”

You were shocked, I mean was he stupid? Obviously you were to be trusted because your business was primarily from less than New Republic approved sources, but he didn’t know that. Your smart mouth always got the best of you. “Seriously? What if I told the New Republic you were here? Or I was just completely lying and I am actually part of a group?” 

The visor snapped towards you, Dank Ferrik, now you were the stupid one. Were you trying to get killed? I mean seriously, what is going through your head where- “I’m sorry?”

The Mandalorian slowly steps toward you, your heart drops. This is it. This is where you die. All for a witty comment. His helmet has to be less than a foot from your face as you try and quickly spain away your stupid and untimely comments, “I didn’t mean- ah yikes- I-”

His voice seems lower, it's almost a whisper, “Let me just say this once. I don’t know if you’re trying to be funny or if you’re just plain stupid, but if you ever say a word about me or more importantly-” he tilts the helmet towards the small creature below you, “Him, then I promise you, you won’t even get the chance to start running.”

The Mandalorian turns back towards the child simply saying “Go.” before kneeling down and inspecting the damage to the ship

Whoops, touched a nerve there. He was close enough for you to smell the woody scent of his soap and feel the heat off his body. How about you make it worse because you just cannot stop yourself? You let out a small chuckle. This is probably the dumbest thing you’ve ever done. “You’re kidding me right?”

You can’t help but let a smile creep onto your face as the Mandalorian once again turns slowly towards you. You were playing games with life and death and he was truly and deeply baffled. “Do I need to repeat myself? Are you seriously smiling right now?”

“No, no, I heard you. I’m just wondering how you can possibly think you’re getting this thing back off the ground.” You pause briefly, he’s a statue in front of you. He probably thinks you’re crazy, and you probably are. “I mean I’m sure you know the ship, but seriously, a Razor Crest? It's been quite a while since those went up in the sky, ‘had to come down at some point. Surprised it made it this long.”

“I’ll be fine.”

This time you can’t help but laugh. “Listen, this ship is not gonna be up in the air anytime soon, especially if you just let the only mechanic for miles around just walk away and have a nice day at the beach.”

This time you don't get a response. He begins walking around the ship, extinguishing the fires before boarding the ship to get a very scorched looking toolkit. He acts like you’re invisible, setting up a small ladder next to one of the engines. You stand there watching as he starts to shed some of his layers, the cape that you think is just a little dramatic, as well as the jetpack that was hidden underneath it. Then you stand even more baffled as he removed his pauldrons and chest piece, setting it aside. Your jaw has probably met the ground by the time you get a handle on yourself, could Mandalorians even do that? I thought they never removed their armor.

“You like to stare at strangers that are already tempted to shoot you?” 

Choking a little bit on your breath you cough, not quite sure of how to respond so you decide to avoid the question. “You know, I’m not expensive,” Maker that did not come out how you wanted it to, “I mean, I can help you fix the ship. I don’t have any other customers right now and I’d maybe even give a discount if you keep up this friendly demeanor you have going on”

You gesture toward the Mandalorian, you can’t see his face but you doubt he is that enthused by your sarcasm. This is then confirmed by no more than grumbles and muttering from under the helmet as he turns back to the engine. You take a moment, continuing to stare at him for a minute, he’s… kind of handsome. I mean you can’t be sure because obviously his face is covered- but he's definitely attractive. Your train of thought is cut short when he looks back down at you again, annoyance radiating from him. 

“I have a mechanic, on Tatooine, she can-” 

You cut him off, “Well unless you have a secret ship I don’t know about…” You squint and pretend to peer around, “Yeah no, I don’t see one, I also don’t see how a mechanic on Tatooine has any way of helping you with your ship crashing on Naboo.”

With that statement he ignores you entirely. Maybe he has noise canceling in that helmet. Because if he could hear anything you said, he certainly wasn’t letting it show. You look at the sky. Eh, you can go to the beach anytime, but you could potentially have a new customer here if you play your cards right. So you play the long game. Starting off you just get comfortable amongst the wreckage whipping out a small tablet from your bag and pretending to do work, clicking buttons and tapping around for about half an hour before you decide it's time to move on to other tactics. Next you try walking up to the ship, closely examining panels and wires hanging down mangled from the wings and hull, you don’t say anything or even lay a finger on the ship. Only saying a quiet “Hm..” Scrunching up your face looking concerned before moving on to another damaged portion of the ship. 

This served your purposes well, after a few times you started to notice the helmet shift slightly towards you in your periphery as you snooped around. It was also easy for you, you are a mechanic after all. This is what you do for a living, and examining all of the parts of this truly ancient hunk of metal that some call a ship would just end up helping you when you finally made him cave and ask for your expertise. This went on for what had to be at least an hour, the sun had begun to set and darkness started to gather over the clearing. As you had almost made your way in a full 360 around the ship you ended up back next to the Mandalorian. 

You stood quietly behind him as he lay, half under the ship with his legs sticking out next to the tool kit. You heard a deep sigh before he slid out from under the ship and looked up at you, first glancing at the kid who was playing with some scrap metal a few feet away. “Okay. I can’t pay you much, but I can give you a few hundred credits and then I’ll pay you more later.”

“It’ll do.” You replied, a slight smile appearing on your face with your triumph over the stubbornness of your handsome armored guest. 

So you worked, the Mandalorian focused mainly on getting the engines in order while you rewired the inside consoles and welded paneling back together, occasionally stealing glances over to your fellow mechanic as he worked, praying he didn't see you staring underneath his darkened visor. 

*****

Several hours went on, welding, hammering, wiring, and screwing the ship back together piece by piece was no easy task. It definitely would not be completed tonight. He was reluctant but very glad to have your help. Unable to help himself, he occasionally took breaks from doing actual repairs, switching to fake ones so that he could watch you work. Often he wished he could take off the helmet, but there were times like this one when he was glad to have it. He knew you had no idea where his eyes were under the visor so he didn’t look creepy when he glanced over at you. He had noticed you staring, every once and a while. But that happened a lot, ever since the purge it wasn’t so common to see Mandalorians. It was mainly just the covert that survived, at least that he knew of. 

His arms were burning now, holding them up to the engine for the past couple hours had managed to exhaust him. He finally decided to step down from the ladder, Damn, he cursed himself. The kid was outside, still playing in the grass happily making gurgling noises and smiling, it was way past his bedtime. Tilting his head toward you he says, “I think I’m done for the night, gonna need to be in the ship for a little bit. 

You nod back at him, hurriedly packing up your tools before walking out of the ship, there was a strange nervous energy around you that he noticed, probably because he had threatened your life multiple times earlier, he thought to himself. He picked up the kid, carrying him onto the ship and settling him into his small floating cradle. He didn’t take long before he was asleep, the Mandalorian closed the shield on the cradle, taking in the view of the inside of the ship. 

The hull was kind of a mess but most of the paneling on the inside of the hull was repaired, He chuckled, impressed. Stepping up a rung on the ladder up to the cockpit he peered in to see the console, it looked fully rewired, it was by far the cleanest part of the ship. Beneath the helmet he smiled, shaking his head. He stepped down the ladder, taking the time to clear up his belongings that had been scattered about the floor in the crash. 

As he was cleaning his mind wandered. It had been quite a while since I had been able to talk to another person, let alone someone that was… like you. It had been a few years on the run with Grogu now, he shook the thoughts from his head. He didn’t have time for that kind of stuff before, let alone now, with the kid? The Empire chasing him down? No. 

But you were … something. Certainly frustrating, very stubborn, but he knew he wasn’t one to talk. You also happened to be very attractive, he noticed when he first saw you. Your feisty personality had only made him more interested. Damn it, what had happened to controlling his thoughts huh? He cursed himself. Glancing down the ramp to see you sitting a log nearby, determined to start a fire. Were you going to stay?

*****

Finally getting the lighter to catch on the sticks you had arranged in the dirt, you looked up at the ship. The hatch was open, the Mandalorian looming in the doorway, leaning against the wall. As you met his gaze he stepped out, boots landing heavy on the earth as he reached the log and sat down next to you with a sigh. You stared at the flames, avoiding the strange tension that fell between you as you waited for him to say something. 

“You do good work” he admitted, turning to face you. You blushed slightly at the compliment, “Thanks, just doin’ my job.” 

Maker, you hoped that didn’t come out too snarky, but you heard a small chuckle from the modulator in response before you both returned to silence. He shuffled slightly next to you, clearing his throat before he spoke again, “You’ve got some grease on your face.”

“Oh,” you used your shirt in an attempt to scrub your face clean of the grime, allowing some of your midriff to peek from under your shirt. The helmet didn't move away from you, it was a little bit off-putting. You settled back into the decomposing log, moss and fungus eating away at the wood. “It’s still there”

You began to raise your shirt to your face again, before a gloved hand grabbed hold of your arm, “It’s alright, here, let me get it.” 

You stared at him. He took off his gloves and grabbed a rag from his pocket. He reaches out to your face, using one of his hands to cradle your right cheek while he uses the rag to remove the stubborn grease from the side of your nose with his other, being surprisingly gentle with your face. His hand is rough and calloused, your mind blanking, looking into the visor and feeling his skin warm against yours. 

If asked, you couldn’t say how long you stared into the visor or how long he took to clean your face. He probably thinks you’re strange, considering the fact you just stared at him for an indeterminable amount of time. You were zoned out, not even blinking. Of course, you would be wrong, he wasn’t thinking you were weird, he was just praying that you didn’t take notice of the nervous energy enveloping his body. You’re positive your whole face is bright red. He’s so soft. His hands are rough for sure, but he was so delicate with you. “So what brought you to Naboo?”

He broke the silence as he continued to rub your face with the piece of cloth. “Oh um,” you needed to come back to reality, “I’m from here originally, I mean not from out here though. I’m from Theed.”

“Capital city? Seems fancy for you.” He teased, or at least you think he was. It’s kind of difficult to tell with the modulator and the lack of facial expression. The cloth tickles your nose, “Sorry.”

“No you’re fine", you reassure him. It takes everything you have in you to not lean into his hand, he feels so comfortable. “Yeah no, you’re right. That's partially why I left. I mean when the empire was in power, I don't know. I guess it gets difficult to work on illegal ships in the middle of a city swarming with troopers.”

You let out a small laugh before his hands are removed from your face. There is a reluctance to his movements as he settles back into the log , stretching an arm out behind you against the moss, “It’s gone now. That crap sticks, sorry about that.”

“No it's fine, thanks for getting it off me.” You smile, still blushing but hoping he thinks you’re just naturally that pink in the face. You lean back, accidentally leaning into his arm, he doesn't move, so neither do you. He continues the conversation, asking you questions about Naboo and your clients and your job, how you got started as a mechanic, it was strange. He seemed different, not so cold, talkative even. Nothing like the man that had essentially told you he would hunt you down if you ever said a word about his existence. 

*****

You were sweet. Kind for someone that worked with almost exclusively criminals and those who were wanted by the new republic. The tough crowd you ran with almost seemed like it hadn't rubbed off on you whatsoever. He found himself staring again, watching your eyes light up and your lips move as you talked about your life and Naboo. He could watch you talk for hours, it took everything in him to not try and lead you back to the Crest with him for the night. Snap out of it. He couldn’t. He just admired you, only asking the occasional question, nodding in agreement at everything you told him. You talked for what had to be 45 minutes before it started. 

He was definitely infatuated with you, but this was different. He felt very warm, and he wanted you. He started to fidget around, adjusting his seating position to accommodate the growing erection in his pants. He prayed you wouldn't notice, he covered it as best as he could. Then the thoughts came. Flowing through his mind easily he thought about you, about what was under the layers of fabric you wore, and about what he would like to do to you if he could. He resisted at first, but he couldn’t for long before he was lightheaded. Unable to struggle against his desires anymore. 

Even just the fabric of his pants rubbing against him when he moved was overwhelming, he bit his lip, barely resisting the desperate noises attempting to escape his mouth. His vision was hazy, the world around him appeared rosy, you looked perfect. Seeing you- Dank Ferrik- He was taken back to all of the desires he had earlier, on the ship, watching you work. He had to say something. 

*****

The Mandalorian had become fidgety beside you. You wondered if he is feeling the same nearly indescribable heat that you feel. Warmth radiating from your chest and between your thighs. Sweat began to form on the back of your neck and other wetness began to form at your center. You froze yourself in place, doing all in your power to not alert the Mandalorian to the desire enveloping your body. He turned towards you, it had taken him a moment. He had been asking questions whenever you fell silent but in the last 10 minutes there were long pauses, like he was distracted, “Hey.. do you feel strange at all? I feel a little bit warm,”

“Mhm,” You nodded your head, clenching your jaw to restrain yourself before you began to speak, “Yeah I feel really warm actually.”

You looked around, eyes eventually falling on the log behind you, you noticed small floating particles in the air around you now, and the thin coating of a pollen like substance on your skin and clothing, same on the Mandalorian, but he had the helmet. “Do you think this stuff has anything to do with it?” 

Drawing his eye to the pollen he looked closely at it, and then the plants that were producing it. He let out a small wince. “I don't know really- shit,” he took in a small gasp of air, “Sometimes plants, or fungi like these. I mean they- in the past, I’ve seen them produce spores that… have effects.”

“What do you mean… by, um, effects?” you ask, a concerned expression etched across your face. Squeezing your legs together was not helping the feeling go away, and if he didn't already notice your fidgeting he would almost certainly notice your desperate attempt to push the feelings away, which you were not succeeding at. 

“They can act like a very, very, powerful aphrodisiac.” He swallowed, saliva had been pooling on his tongue as he looked at you. “It’s bad. I’ve seen people be out of it for days. I hope that this isn’t what that is, but I'm not confident.”

“Hey, Mando,” Nickname slipping from your lips, you weren’t thinking clearly anymore, “I- I think that's what this is. I mean I don't know how you feel right now but…” 

Lightheaded you were barely holding on, clasping your hands together, away from the warmth of your core. “Yeah, me too.”

“I think we need to separate. As quickly as possible,” That's not what you really wanted, but you were clinging to the last logical thoughts you had. Maker, he was handsome, you could see the muscles in his arms and shoulders through his shirt, how he was pulling the shirt over his hips to conceal what you suspected was very visible there. 

“Agreed” he quickly stood up. “I’m going to go on the ship, I have a cot there”

He turned to leave before he paused, the shirt couldn’t conceal his hardness anymore, and him trying was just drawing more of your attention to it. Your mouth began to water. “I have an extra cot, I don't know- I mean, if you don’t want to stay out here.”

You stood up, simply following his lead up the ramp of the crest. He pointed you left to a narrow cot in the corner of the hull before he nearly scrambled over to the other side of the hull. Shit. No walls. Whatever, you didn’t even care anymore. You nearly tear your pants as you peel them off of your thighs, feeling the wetness between your thighs begin to drip down your legs, you can hear him making quite the commotion as he rips the armor off of his lower half, you see it tossed to the side on the floor barely in view. Then you hear him start, whimpers turning into breathy moans as you can hear him pleasuring himself a mere 10 feet away from you. 

You feel almost like you have no control over your limbs as you reach down to your own warm center, the slickness soaking your fingers as you begin to rub circles around your clit starting slow, losing control as you hear the Mandalorian’s moans become deep and raspy, you move faster. Unable to keep yourself from imagining how well he would fill you, thinking about how desperate he must be, the thought of helping him towards his release fills your mind as you slide your hand down pushing your fingers into the void you feel inside of you. As you begin to pull the pleasure out of yourself your quieter, breathier moans gain volume and desperation as you get closer and closer. 

This increase in your volume clearly has an effect on the Mandalorian, you can hear the slapping of his skin as his groans become almost pained, like he is begging for his release, then you hear him slow down, the moans coming from his side of the hull quieting, devolving into low growls after he reaches his climax. His sounds send you over the edge, you feel warmth overwhelming your body, pulsing waves radiating throughout, you let out a long satisfied groan before the hull is filled with an exhausted silence. 

This exhaustion remains only for a few minutes before you feel the urge creep up inside of you once again. You're tempted to make your way over to him as you hear his breath begin to pick up slowly as he begins to feel the same second wave. Your head feels light as you imagine the feel of his skin on your’s and the taste of his cock leaking on your tongue. You can't handle it. Legs shaking you rise from your cot, quietly making your way over to the opposite side of the hull, you near the edge of the slightly wider cot that he rests on. 

You step out in front of his cot, unbuttoning your shirt to free your chest, the heat is overwhelming, beads of sweat on your skin making your shirt stick to your breasts as you strip it off. The Mandalorian just freezes, an inability to tell where his gaze rests on your body only brings more warmth to your face. You kneel down onto the edge of the cot, you can see almost all of him right now, he’s so exposed, vulnerable to your touch. He's… gorgeous. Golden skin fully exposed, you watch his chest rise and fall as you look at him. A trail of hair leading down his stomach straight to-

You set your eyes on his thick girth. Your mouth begins to water, you can see beads of precum leaking from its head. Reaching out you stroke his thigh, he twitches under your hand, letting out a quiet and needy sound as you move your hand closer to his length. 

“Do you want me to help you?” you ask boldly, waiting intently for a nod from the helmet. 

“I-yes, please, yes.” he gives in to his temptation, taking a firm grip on your arm as you grasp him tightly and begin to stroke him up and down. His head tilts back letting a deep groan escape the helmet, the modulator making it even more gravelly. He's already slick with the release of his previous orgasm, he glides through your hands easily, his sounds become broken and pleading as you move your hand faster around him, you hear broken moans trying to form your name. Honestly you’re surprised he remembered it, but you’re glad. You like hearing your name roll over his tongue. 

Lowering your head you run your tongue along the bottom of the head, catching him off guard, making him thrust upwards into your mouth as you come down on him. You feel his hand release its tight grip on your arm as it moves to your hair gripping it tightly to keep you in place as he bucks his hips up into your mouth. He ignores your gag when he pushes a little too far. 

“Fuck- yes,” His breath becomes more and more labored with each thrust until he slows, allowing himself to burst onto your tastebuds. He tastes delicious, you stay locked onto his length until he stops his small jerks upwards. You lift off of him, gulping down the warm substance before moving up the cot. Positioning your hips over his cock as he lays back, panting, staring up at you with longing, still hard as though nothing at all had transpired. 

He grips your hips stopping you before you sink down onto him, behind the visor you can’t tell what’s going through his head, his breath tells you he’s desperate for more but his voice, deep and modulated, sounds almost hesitant or anxious, “I don’t have much… experience”

He stumbles over his words hesitantly as he lowers your hips onto his, his length sliding up against your aching heat instead of entering it. You let out a small groan as it moves against you, “Do you want me to stop?” 

He pulls your face closer to his helmet, “No- Kriff- please no.” he replies, unable to stop himself from grinding into you as he struggles to get his words out. “I just- Fuck- want to hear you say my n-name” 

He says breathlessly, the aching in your stomach hurts with how much you need him inside of you,”It’s Din- that’s my name- Fuck, cyarika” 

Running his hands through your hair and down your back, he encourages your movements. You sit yourself up with your hands on his chest, lowering yourself onto him.

“Sweet girl..” he breaths. You let out a whine as he sinks into you, sliding gently deeper as he stretches you around him. As soon as you reach his base he begins to thrust into you, ignoring the almost pained moans you let escape as he fucks roughly upwards, barely giving you time to adjust to his girth, he was unbelievably thick. Just the right length to hit that spot inside of you, the thrusts sting so good as they change from slight pain into pure ecstacy.

“Din- Maker- you’re so fucking big,” You feel a pressure building inside of you, feeling like you could already cum before he even reaches down to find your clit. He’s a fast learner and finds it fairly quickly, likely due to the moan you let loose when his fingers brush up against it. “Yes-“ 

He’s good. Ridiculously good. You’re going to cum. The combination of his deep and needy thrusts and his fingers rubbing fast circles around your clit is too much. His modulated moaning graces your ears as he wraps his arms around you pulling you to his chest. “Din, Din, Din, Din- Fuckkk“. 

You can feel his heartbeat race underneath his skin and his chest rise and fall as you both close in on your peak. You kiss him up his chest and collarbone and settling on his neck. He can’t think, overwhelmed by you clinging tightly around him, dripping and pooling at the base of his hard cock, his pace pushing you over the cliff of your orgasm. Your lips on his throat drive him over the edge. His thrusts quicken as he chokes on your name, only able to gasp for air he mumbles between groans as he pumps into you. Your spasming heat choking his throbbing cock as he fills you with his heat, still thrusting into you as he comes down from the high. Fucking his load deeper inside of you.

He gasps for air, panting and running his hands over the curves of your body as you melt into each other. His breath slows, relaxing as you rest on top of him. He whispers in your ear, “This is so perfect, you’re fucking perfect. Thank you, you- you made me feel so good,”

 Even with the modulator his voice sounds warm and fluid. Neither of you lasted more than 5 minutes, not that it mattered considering whatever aphrodisiac had found its way into your systems seemed to never end. You know it’s not over. You lie there on top of him for a while, your head nestled into the crook of his neck, listening to his heartbeat, he keeps whispering to you, but it changes. It goes from sweet compliments to a lower, raspier tone to his voice. “I’ve been wanting you all day, thinking about all the things I wanted to do to you, I know you have too, mesh'la.” 

You hadn’t intended to, but you’re a terrible liar and it probably seemed like you had been with all of the glances and smiles and blushing. He started to sit up, laying you down on your back on the mattress. He, reluctantly, pulls out. Watching as his cum begins to leak out of you. He pauses for a minute, before saying “Stay there.”

Standing up, he moves over to the wall across from the cot and presses a button, the hull goes dark, all you can see is pitch black surrounding you before you hear footsteps returning to the bed. You feel him take a seat again on the bed next to you, soon after there is a heavy clunk of metal against the floor. Did he take off his helmet? Your heartbeat quickens.

As he stretches out on the narrow mattress you take your queue to once again straddle him, you’re about to reach down and put him back inside you when you feel his palm against your back encouraging you to move upwards towards his head. Eventually he grabs your thighs, directing you to your new seat, directly over his mouth. “Let's get you cleaned up first” 

He kisses the inside of your thighs as he moves upward toward your burning center, you let out a gasp as you feel his lips and tongue against your skin. You can feel the graze of stubble against your thighs, his curved nose, his soft lips warm against you, you start to groan as he gets closer. There’s a pause, broken by his lips kissing over your folds before that long anticipated tongue licks up the full length of your slit. Your breathy moans fill the hull as he moves slowly, teasing you, waiting for you to beg him for more. You gladly oblige, taking hold of his hair and giving it a slight pull, you plead “Din, please- please. I need more” 

Only then does he indulge you, parting your folds and honing in on your clit, licking around it in circles before finally sucking it with his soft, wet lips. He loves the way you taste, he especially likes the taste of him inside you. The pleasure of his mouth on your pussy bringing more of your wetness to mix with his cum, he’s addicted to it. He never imagined this would be the reason he would take off his helmet. But he’s thought about this loophole for a while, and when he first saw you, dripping wet and begging for him, he knew he was going to have to take advantage of it. He was anxious that he wouldn’t be able to make you feel as good as he wanted you to feel, but it felt so natural to have you in his mouth, your sounds telling him when he was doing something well made him desperate for you to cum so he could thrust back into you again. 

“I’m getting close, you’re- Shit- you’re doing so good” That was too much, he couldn’t stop himself anymore. Removing his hand currently wrapped around your left thigh he began to stroke himself, he tried to go slow but couldn’t resist your praise. He was so sensitive, the pollen had made it easy for him to continue even after he came multiple times, but he felt like static, all he could feel was pleasure as he massaged his hand around his thick length, lapping up the taste of you as he grunted between your legs.

Fuck. He’s too much, too good, too fast. All you can think about is how he wraps his lips around your clit, flicking it with his tongue as you hear him moan into you. You were nearly screaming his name, it felt out of your control as he kept edging you up to the summit of your arousal. It was torturous, the way he sucked your clit before removing himself completely where the only sensation was his hot breath below you. Rinse and repeat. But it felt so good. It felt like he was analyzing your flavor with his tongue the way he devoured you. 

He was building you again, you prepared yourself for his pull away, for your pleasure to be cut short. But he didn’t stop, he held on. A rhythm of licking, fluttering, and sucking you that was more than either of you knew what to do with. You pulled his hair, releasing a growl like moan from him as you couldn’t keep yourself from bucking your hips on his face as he stimulated you. A shaky and depraved sound escaped your lips as you came. Your thighs clenched around his head and you gave a second quick tug on his hair, both of which evoked deep groans of satisfaction from him as he drank in your orgasm. Heat flushed your body until you couldn’t tell where you ended and his mouth began. Sweat coated your chest as you panted, he continued to savor you with his tongue. 

Yet another reason he was grateful for you straddling his face, was because it muffled all of the embarrassingly loud and desperate sounds he was making while he was getting himself off on your undoing. When he felt you clench down on his face it was over for him. He felt his hot release splatter onto his stomach and drip down his fingers as the only thoughts running through his mind were about how tight you squeezed around him when he was buried inside of you. The frantic jerks through his fist slowed as the aftershocks gripped his body. Letting go of himself he concentrated on you, despite your hitching breath every time he touched you clit. 

He seemed to ignore your arching back and trembling thighs as you ran your fingers through his hair, unable to form words as you lost any remaining composure. Reaching behind, you grabbed hold of him, following the thickness of his shaft up to the tip, where you focused your attention. This made him cease contact with you entirely. Trying to catch his breath, his gasps just turned into whimpers as they met the air. Long drawn out expletives as he twitched under your hand. 

His words were broken, cut off with whimpers and moans as you touched him where you knew it would feel the best, or the worst, depending on your perspective. But you got the gist of what he was trying to say, “Pl-lease, t-t-t-“ “C-Can’t t-take” 

He was begging you. Melting completely, moldable to your will. Seeing him like this was different, you were more turned on now than you had ever been. Watching his hips writhe beneath your grasp…He wanted you so badly. 

Reaching down he ripped your hand away from him before he could begin to spill himself once again. Still panting in an attempt to recover from the stimulation, he moved you off of his face and laid you down on the mattress so that he was leaning over you. The warmth exuding from his body felt like a heat lamp, the air between you just felt like a continuation of his skin. Distracted by the tension you jolted when he began to slide his cock up and down your folds. His attempt at hiding his soft and breathy whimpers as he rubbed himself against you was ultimately a failure. You desperately wanted to see his face, his jaw clenched around nothing just trying to hold out for you. You couldn't help yourself. You took hold of him and shoved him back inside of you. 

He was so thick, the dripping warmth coating your walls as you stretched to accommodate him. It felt like you were whole with him inside of you. He moved slowly, trying so hard not to cum again so soon, you squeezed him in just the right way, he was sloppy in the way he fucked you, his rhythm slowing down and speeding up randomly, pulling too far out and having to reenter. 

You surprised yourself when you reached your hand up to his throat, giving it a light squeeze he let out a labored moan. “Fuck me” 

You looked up at where you guessed his face was, it almost sounded like a challenge exiting your lips. He listened. His thrusts became consistent, targeted, a solid rhythm. But along with this came his volume, he was so loud, nearly yelling your name in between his whines, only taking time to lean near your ear and mutter to you while he tried to catch his breath. Your grip on his neck was loose, lazy, only tightening when he slowed down. 

“You’re so good, you’re so fucking good- Oh shit- Fuck-, so sweet- Maker, I love the taste of you on my lips, you’re so soft for me. I want to cum for you so bad- Please- Oh Maker- PLEASE” 

It hurts how ready he is to cum, he’s been ready for 5 minutes. He had some experience, but as he had told you, not much. Certainly nothing like this. He actually can’t tell if he already started to cum or not. He’s blind, he can only focus on the heat and the wetness between your legs. He’s completely lost control of his mouth. Saying anything that came to his mind, just trying to keep his throbbing, aching cock from stopping before you cum. No, no no no no no no- his eyes nearly rolled back in his head, pulling himself out of you before painting your chest with his cum as he milked every last drop he had from his cock. Shit.

Honestly, you knew how hard he was fighting to hold on, the way he had fucked you right then was so relentless, that Din finishing before you were able to get there was something that was difficult to be bothered by. It felt so good. Him pounding you into the mattress, it had actually taken you a second to realize you hadn’t finished. But it was evident that Din was disappointed, the silence, you could almost imagine his furrowed brow trying to figure out what comes next. So you guided him, grabbing one of his hands. You led him down your torso and between your thighs, trusting him to know what to do next. 

Putting his weight on his remaining arm and his knees, he caressed your heat, wetness letting him glide over your lips. Your breath quickened as he began to work you open with two fingers, feeling them enter deeper inside of you on each thrust, your muscles tensed as he massaged inside of you till he found a spot that made you sink your nails into his arm while he touched you. Crying out you started to roll your hips into his movements, your cries turned into sputtering wails as he began to rub his thumb over your swollen clit. 

“Din y-yes” you rasped, “just like that- Fuck”

 You sounded so good with his name on your lips, he rewarded you, quickening the rhythm of his pumps. He was merciless, chasing your climax with his hand. This you could tell he was experienced at. The ache between your thighs reaching its precipice, gripping his arm and the sheets you let out a long low cry as you spasmed around his fingers. Going limp under him as you let out a shaking breath. 

Din reached his fingers up to his mouth, licking them clean of your orgasm before stroking the hand up your side, murmuring into the darkness around you, “Good girl…” 

You sensed the warmth he radiated, got closer to your skin before you felt his tongue, drift flat over your chest, gathering the pooling cum in his mouth. He flicked his tongue around your nipples, taking a moment to suck and nip at your flesh making you run your fingers through his hair before tracing you with his tongue up to your throat. He relaxed his weight onto you as he crushed a passionate kiss into your mouth. Parting your lips, his tongue carried his flavor into your mouth, the fluid he had collected from your breasts now finding a home in your mouth. His sloppy kisses pausing long enough for him to take a breath and for you to swallow his premature orgasm before his lips closed back onto yours. 

*****

His lips against yours, obsessed with the way you feel against him. His hair being pulled between your fingers drives him wild as he crushes you into his body. The world never felt so perfect to him and he didn’t know how he could ever feel this good again. His thoughts were so light in his head and the weight on him for the last couple years with the kid seemed to temporarily dissipate. Kriff. He wants to stay like this forever. He stayed, tasting your mouth with his tongue, pulling lightly at you with his teeth, until he felt you pull his hips into yours, lightly rubbing against him. 

It ignited him once again, he ached for you as if he hadn’t just spent what had to have been an hour devouring your body in any way that he could, exploring every dip and curve of your form, yet he still couldn’t be satisfied. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. He had been satisfied, several times now, but his brain was fuzzy and light, and when you rubbed against him he could only crave more. 

“Shit- I want you Din.” Your words were almost painful, he ground his hips against yours. Moving his lips down your neck leaving marks on your flesh that would be open for view in any of your usual clothing. His humming turned into low growling as sliding against you became easier, slickness leaking from him. Arching his back he felt you take hold of him. He held his breath as you slid him downwards, directing him into you. Please yes- He gasped as he slid into you. 

Slow, gentle, yes- he took you delicately, thrusting in and out so that he knew you would feel every bit of him as he moved inside of you. He moaned softly into your ear matching the pace of his movements. You felt so good. So tight against his length. He loved the feeling as you ran your nails over his back, he knew you wanted more, but he couldn’t help himself. He continued to pace his movement selfishly wanting to savor every pump into you, draw your pleasure out for as long as possible before it crashed.

This went on, his controlled, almost romantic, rhythm. Combined with his continued bruising of your neck he knew you had to hate him for making you wait. He whispered praise in your ears, “Yes, take me like this. You’re so good- so fucking good to me… such a good slut.”

He hadn’t meant to let it slip out of the privacy of his thoughts and onto his tongue, but you didn’t seem to mind, at all. He felt your nails down his spine until they reached his hips, your grip settling around them and nearly forcing him to quicken. Your hands guided him in and out, faster. It you were so wet, soaking him, the push and pull inside you made such a filthy noise. He loved it. Drinking in the sounds of his cock burying itself deep inside of you was enough to make him lose all remaining sense in his mind. Sensation of you around him, brushing of your skin against his, it was impossible to stop himself from fucking pounding you into the cot. 

*****

You had lost your damn mind. He was so thick, stretching you even after he had already been pounding you full of him for Maker knows how long. He was so close to you, you heard every hitch in his breath, every whimper, moan, growl, pleading gasp. He was so talkative. It was like he couldn’t stop himself from spilling his guts while he was inside you. 

“Yeah? You like me calling you that? Mmmm- is it because it's true?” There was jealousy behind his words, but he sounded almost turned on by it. To be fair, it wasn’t not true. You had your fair share of escapades, maybe even with other customers when times were tough. But this… this was nothing like that. Kriff, he was thick. The way he spoke, fuck, you knew he could probably make you cum without laying more than a finger on you. His words alone made you rut your hips up into his. Apparently the pleading sounds exiting your mouth were not answer enough to his question.

“Mhm, I bet its true,” he paused, small grunts leaving his mouth, “But you know what else I bet- I’ll fuck you the way you need it, sweet girl…”

A smile forms across your face as he says it. “If you had crashed here sooner I wouldn’t have needed all those other co-“

He cuts you off, slamming into you harder than he had the whole night, he wraps a hand around your throat leaning in close so you can feel his breath against your neck, “Maybe you should come with me, I’ll keep you s- shit- satisfied, you would like that right? To be right there when I get back with a b-bounty,”

“So I could fuck you down into this cot every night.” He said it surprisingly smoothly for how he was handling you, the smoothness of his voice contrasting with the roughness of how he thrusted into you and the jealousy he knew was unreasonable. Was he serious? Fuck. Neither of you are in your right minds. Loosening his grip on your throat the small whimpers that escape your lips fuel him to cause more of them. Dragging his tongue along your chest his lips close around a nipple as his hand winds its way down to your clit “Fuck- Din- I want you,” 

Your senses have been overloaded almost since the start, pleasure so constant it was difficult to distinguish when you came for him. His name tasted so sweet on your lips. Your orgasm snuck up quickly, his hips curving into you. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling his weight onto you so that his face was buried against yours and his skin clung onto you. Rolling your hips into him and arching your back you clenched around him vision blurry as the aftershocks made your muscles squeeze him inside you. You let out a long low moan, his name finding its way out of your throat until you could barely speak. He dissolved into you, spilling himself inside you again before falling limp on top of you with a guttural groan into your neck. 

His heart rate slowed against your chest as his head tucked away into the crook of your neck. His breath slowed from whimpers into sighs as you felt him fall asleep in your arms, still twitching inside of you. Your eyelids became heavy, you wondered if he was serious about having you on the Crest with him. I mean you had a job, a thriving business, he had met you mere hours ago. Probably not. Everyone says things when, well, you know. But you were content, his body draped over yours, you stroked your hands along his back, his biceps, as you drifted into unconsciousness. 

AN - This is my first work I've ever written or posted anywhere, I hope you guys liked it, I know its long so if you made it this far i salute you. I'll definitely be posting more stuff on here soon because i have a backlog of work in progress stuff (not just for din) so follow if you liked this one :) also if this seems like its inspired by @no-droids work, that makes sense. Rough day was the first mandalorian fanfic i read!

#the mandalorian #din djarin #fanfiction #fanfic #star wars #pedro pascal #razor crest #this is the way #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #mandalorian fanfic

[thelostboys11]

Silence

The Lost Boys x Reader

Words: 1,492

Warnings: Fighting, angst, and fluff

A/n: The ending was kind of rushed, but I hope you still enjoy. It literally took me forever.

The boys don't usually have arguments that get that bad or repeatedly happen in short periods of time. Whenever they argued and it didn't involve you, they wouldn't try to include you in the argument.

Paul sighed loudly and plopped himself down onto the couch as we walked into the cave. The boys were all silent. They were arguing before you had gotten back to the cave.

"Are you really still upset, David? It's such a stupid thing to be upset about," Paul said, clearly annoyed.

"Yes, I'm still annoyed! Why the hell can't you just listen to me? You listen to me! I'm the leader!" David yelled, angrily.

"I don't always have to listen to you. I can do what the fuck I want!" Paul yelled back.

"Can you guys stop fighting, please? We can talk thin-" You started.

"Y/n, can you just shut up for one fucking moment?" Paul yelled at you.

"You are so fucking annoying sometimes!" David commented.

"Sometimes I wish you weren't even here," Paul added, looking away from you.

You silently went over to your spot in the cave and sat there for a bit, as Paul and David continued fighting. You were siting there thinking about what Paul and David had said to you.

You thought that maybe it would be better if you weren't around. If you were just a bother to them, maybe you just should leave. What made you feel worse was that Dwayne and Marko didn't come over and make sure you were okay.

So you grabbed a bag of yours and put some of your clothes in. You grabbed your money and put it in your pocket.

Once you got everything you thought you needed, you quickly and quietly left the cave. You decided to go to the boardwalk for now. You just needed to chill for a bit.

You had sat yourself down on one of the benches on the boardwalk. You were just watching everyone do their thing. You felt yourself getting calmer.

Then someone sat down next to you. It seemed to be some local. You hadn't seen them around before.

"Hey! You seem lonely. Thought I hang out with you," The guy said. "Me and my buddies are going to get some food, wanna join?"

"Uh, sure," You replied, getting up from the bench with him.

"I'm Matt, by the way," Matt told, as you walked.

"Nice to meet you, Matt. I'm Y/n!" You responded.

"Nice to meet you, too, Y/n!" He replied with a smile.

"Are you a tourist? I haven't seen you around here before," You asked Matt.

"Yea, I'm staying here for a few more days. You live here, right?" Matt answered.

"I've lived here for a bit now. C-can I ask you something?" You said in response.

"Sure. What is it?" Matt said.

"Um, this might be kind of weird since we just met. But I had a fight with my boyfriends not too long ago and I'm not really comfortable going home tonight. Can I stay with you tonight?" You asked, nervously.

"Yea, of course you can. Do they get physical with you when you argue with them? I can help confront them with you if you need me to," Matt offered in a concerned tone, taking a step closer to you.

"They don't get physical with me. They just made me feel pretty bad about myself and I don't really wanna go back home to them tonight," You told, looking down at the ground.

"Well, to get you mind off of it, let's go have some fun tonight before we head back to my place," Matt said, then grabbing your arm and taking you toward some of the things on the boardwalk.

You spent the rest of the night with Matt on the boardwalk. Spending time with him definitely helped take your mind off of things.

Matt took you back to the place he was staying at. It was this small hotel room that he was sharing with two of his other friends. He brought you to the bedroom he was sleeping in.

"I'm sorry it's not much," Matt said, sitting down on his bed.

"It's fine, Matt. Don't worry about it," You responded sitting next to him on the bed.

"I had fun tonight!" Matt said, happily.

"So did I! Thank you, Matt!" You thanked.

Not too long later you got into bed. It wasn't super big, but it was big enough to fit the both of you. You both slept well and you both slept in.

You spent most of the rest of the day with Matt and his friends in his hotel room. Eventually you all decided to go down to the beach together. Then you all would head onto the board walk afterwards.

It was nice out that evening. The sun had started setting, which made the sky look beautiful. But once the sun went down, the boys would be able to come out.

A bit later some of Matt's other friends arrived. The group went into the water for awhile. You all wanted to enjoy the water before it got too dark.

Afterwards, some of you decided to sit down in the sand. Matt and you sat down next to each other.

"Y/n, do your boyfriends ever come out to the beach or the boardwalk?" Matt asked, putting his hand on yours.

"If they didn't come out last night, then they'll probably come out tonight," You answered.

"If they do come out tonight and try to bother you, just know I'll be with you to protect you. Okay?" Matt said holding your hand.

"Thank you, Matt," You responded.

Not too long later, the group you were with and you heard motorcycles.

"Matt, that's them," You whispered to Matt.

The both of you stood up. You got a bit behind Matt, not really wanting to see them right now.

The boys got off their bikes and walked over. They stopped a few feet in front of Matt and you. Before any of us said anything, they looked at Matt for what felt like forever.

"What do you guys want?" Matt asked.

"We want to talk to your partner, so could you please get out of the way," David said, a bit annoyed.

"No. They don't want to talk to you," Matt responded, crossing his arms.

"What?" David asked, more annoyed this time.

"I said no. They don't want to talk to you," Matt repeated himself.

"Does it look like I care?" David asked.

Matt turned to face you and and whispered, "In just a moment I want you to go back to the hotel and wait for me their. Try to stay out of sight okay?"

You nodded in response. At the moment you realized that Matt's friends had come over to see what's going on.

Matt then punched David. After that everyone went at it. You got the chance to run off, without anyone noticing you. You ran as fast as you could to the hotel.

When you got there, you leaned against the side of the hotel. You needed a moment to catch you breath. You hoped that everything would end up okay.

About an hour later, someone showed up. It was Dwayne. You got up from where you were sitting to stand up and talk to him.

"Hey, Y/n," Dwayne said, walking up to you.

"H-hey," You replied.

"We want you to come back," Dwayne told.

"Where's Matt?" You questioned

"Don't worry, he's fine. He's still alive," Dwayne responded. "Now will you come back please?"

"Okay," You said, following Dwayne to his bike.

Dwayne brought you back to the cave. He helped you get off and walked you inside.

Right after you got back into the cave, Paul was right onto you.

"I'm so sorry, Y/n! Please don't hate me!" Paul cried as he hugged you.

All you did was hug him back.

"Why'd you leave, Y/n?" David asked.

"I felt like you boys didn't want me around, so I decided to leave for a bit," You answered, still be hugged by Paul.

"I'm sorry we made you feel that way, Y/n. We do want you around," Paul said, cupping your cheeks.

"We're sorry, Y/n," Marko said, Dwayne nodded in agreement.

"I'm sorry, too, Y/n," David said, walking over.

"I-it's okay," You said, in response.

"By, the way who was that guy you were with on the beach?" David asked.

"He was just someone that approached me on the boardwalk and he let me stay with him for a bit," You answered honestly.

"Well, you won't have to be with him anymore. Everything is going to be okay," David told you, bringing you in a hug.

That night ended well. Everything got better with boys. They ended up cuddling you in the cave, altogether.

They ended up making you feel well that night, too.

#the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys paul #the lost boys marko #the lost boys david #the lost boys dwayne #the lost boys angst #the lost boys fluff

[morgana-ren]

so the guys keep the awful things they do away from their kids right? but how would they deal with their kids getting older and realizing the sort of stuff that happened to their mom/s before they existed or during? you don't have to though just curious

Oh, yes. Absolutely. Even Reaver would keep his degeneracy away from his children as much as he physically could, on the off-chance he knocks ya up.

Truthfully, if most of them they have their way, the children, even when grown, would never know or ever be privy to any of it. Sorry this kind of goes off on a tangent but my ADHD is wilding out, and the information felt pertinent at the time. The short answer is no, the children are not impacted at all, and the lads have ways of circumventing their wretched pasts.

Corvus is very capable of this canonically, but he's the only one that has an AU where he has children. When he settles and marries and decides he wants children, he makes a decision to put his family first. No more open degeneracy in the home. He is a normal, deeply loving father. His children will be raised in a stable, normal environment. Collars are switched out for more 'subtle' expensive necklaces, toys are stored off-site and on his ship and retrieved with a teleport when needed. No visible chains on the marital bed. Everything is very well hidden with magic beyond what his kids are capable of right now. Etc.

Corvus is a fucking PTA Dilf. Just so you know. He is VERY active in his children's lives and education. Like, we're talking father of the year shit here. His kids will be tiefling-draconic in nature, so he will work on teaching them magic early so they can properly disguise themselves if they attend a normal school, and he will be very strict with them on how to behave around mortals.

That doesn't mean you're getting off the hook. The bedroom is soundproofed and when night falls and you two have alone time, he's very much transforming into a pumpkin. When the kids are gone, daddy comes out to play. He is still Corvus. However, he will not leave open marks on you where they can see and anything damaging he does, he heals. I mean, you both have children to raise. He can't have you bedridden with sex injuries when you have to cook the family dinner and bathe the children and your other motherly duties.

If he's having a family with you, he very much is in love with you and wants to spend the rest of his eternal life with you. He might be a bastard, but you and the children come first in any scenario. He will go as far as banning his brothers from the home if they cannot behave themselves around you. Sadism still gets him off, and he runs a very tight ship as a father and husband, but he would do absolutely anything for you and the kids. In the bedroom, he's still the same old Corvus, except he does not want to permanently scar you in any sense, mentally or physically. Hells, you can even get him to get you off occasionally, if you know how to barter with him, which you will by that point.

There will come a day when they will learn that daddy is a monster. They will learn of his atrocities and who he is. But Corvus spends their entire lives preparing for this moment in case it happens. He raised his children well and with his values and truthfully, it's never been a big deal. By the time they're adults, they're going to have... some idea that their daddy is.. strange with intimacy, but mostly, they just go "Oh yuck! I don't want to hear about my dad's love life with mom! Ew!" and it never comes up. All they know is that their father loves their mother very much-- and they miss out on a lot of the details. If they were your children, would you really want them knowing? (Keep in mind, Corvus will not have a family unless you love him back. He will make you love him. He will prove himself.)

Astarion doesn't take to it as effortlessly as Corvus does, but he's much the same way. He will still whisper off-color things in your ear and slap your ass when they aren't looking, but mostly, he manages to rein himself in. He's a bit looser with it (he believes it's normal that his children know how much their father loves their mother) but he's not degenerate about it by any means.

Him feeding is a lot less sexual and a lot more functional when he has children-- at least when they're around. It's much more of a 'sit down to breakfast' affair. He will usually have reserves of blood around so that he doesn't have to feed at all in front of them, if he can help it. He feels strange about it when they're around because it was a sexual act before and that doesn't just fade away, even if he needs to feed to live. It just feels inappropriate.

Astarion is actually capable of having relatively normal sex-- and I mean normal relatively, because in comparison to Reaver and Corvus and even Ilya, he is capable of being the most tame. You flirt with him by being bratty or whatever else have you, but he will always manage to keep himself in check until the kids are gone to school or over at a friend's house. But then you're in for it.

Sex and intimacy with Astarion who has settled down with you is capable of being much more playful than it is sadistic. By that point, if you've really connected with him, chances are you're kind of into it, same with all the others (you know, as much as you can be when your husband is a immoral sadist.) When you get some alone time, he is going to indulge, and he's going to make sure that you want to. He will keep you crawling back and begging. It is a subtle game that is not played when the babies are home.

Any scars he's given you are properly glamored (he will not let Corvus heal it, it is a sign of his love) and covered when the children are growing. He doesn't play with knives when they're around, as it's not safe for them. He very much switches into vampiric lord father mode. Finest education, finest life, etc.

Truthfully, he would probably prefer that you make up some story about how you met, or at least romanticize the real way. Leave out all of the grosser details. He doesn't want the children knowing anything inappropriate at all. To them, he is a normal loving father and you are a normal loving family. He just happens to be a vampire.

If they're half vampiric (or even full blood vampires) he would want them homeschooled. He wants them in a safe place where they will be kept clean and on the up-and-up. He remembers the early years of his thirst and how uncontrollable it was, and he doesn't want to risk the family getting isolated and singled out. He would scour the globe to ensure his children had friends and could properly socialize and maintain friendly relationships. If he's established a coven, he would have a school set up for the children where they could be with children like them.

While he is nervous at first, he blossoms into an excellent father. Corvus had more of the atrocities attached to their name, so realistically, the only thing they will ever learn about their father is that he is a vampire lord, and being his children, they understand he has to feed on mortals. His relationship with you will be far more consensual and loving at that point, and chances are neither of you would feel the need to bring up the nastier past, especially how you met or the kind of monster their father can be.

Reaver probably struggles the most. Not because he doesn't want to hide it, but because his idea of normal is just so fucking skewed at this point that he has to relearn it. It backfires. Rather than being too inappropriate, he's too stoic.

He's going to be very anxious. So anxious that he basically wants to raise a nanny to raise the children full time. Obviously, that's not going to work, and it will take years until he's finally comfortable raising the kids like a father truly would. Mostly because at that point, he's afraid he's going to ruin their lives by just being him.

He's going to look to you to teach him right from wrong. You will basically be raising two children: Your actual child and him. He doesn't know what to do, so he's going to try to buy their affection and spoil them senseless. They will have the finest of everything, and attend the finest private school.

He's one of those dads that when their kid gets bad grades, he blames the teacher. He will bribe the school. He will throw money around. Like he is one to do. He does not understand what is wrong with this, so if you want to discipline your children for behaving poorly, you will be doing it with him mostly being silent. It will take some time for him to get the hang of proper parenting, and he still messes up sometimes.

He's going to be very uncomfortable showing any affection to you in front of them, mostly because he doesn't understand. Love, to him, is a naughty word. He's the most staunch about it genuinely because he is trying.

He loves his children very, very much. He just has to be taught how show love. You have to explain to him that it's okay for parents to say 'I love you' to each other in front of their kids. It's okay for him to kiss you and squeeze you.

it's business as usual when the kids aren't around though. The filthy, disgusting, nasty man you came to love. He's going to try to cram (in more ways than one) all of his urges into a very short amount of time. He will have a special hidden chamber that is very different from your standard bedroom that is only opened with a key that he has and never removes. When the kids are away for a while, you will be spending most of your time there, and poor Barry will be tending to your needs like food, water, and the essentials.

When the kids get older and they want to know how mommy and daddy fell in love, he's going to spin an elaborate lie about how you were some lovestruck fan who was enamored with his brilliance, and his looks, and-- it's total garbage. It becomes a running joke. He, like the others, will completely hide your origins.

The hardest part would be hiding his various crimes. Not against you, but just the fucking world at large. He's a celebrity and a ruthless business man known for killing everything. Truthfully, he might ask Corvus to help him move somewhere far off and away so his children are raised out from under the shadow of his influence.

He will not stop killing things though. And he will not give up his business. He's a provider after all. He will ensure that all business is done very far away from his children.

Ilya will be outwardly pleased when you fall pregnant, but inside, he is panicking. Keep in mind, this man had a very strained childhood that left him with a litany of issues that persist to this day. Especially given how you met, he's worried you might decide you don't love him and you'll turn against him and take his child with you. This doesn't make him angry; this makes him afraid.

Ilya is aware of the technicalities of raising children. He, like Corvus, won't have a huge issue with the standard bits. He doesn't struggle not to murder or be cruel in front of them. He can rein himself in easily. He takes to fatherhood very well. He loves his children and his wife a scary amount. It's kind of wild watching him 'grow' all the sudden when he has a family.

Ilya's biggest struggle won't be forgoing degeneracy. It will be his complete and utter fear that he is going to be a father like his father. That you don't really love him, and rather that you're manipulating him because you feel like you have to in order to survive-- even though that might've sorta been the case before.

Do not worry. This can be soothed, and he's actually a very attentive husband and father. Ilya will not have children with you if you don't love him, so rest assured if you have kids, he is dedicated to it. He won't do it unless he knows for goddamn sure. Even when he knows, he won't know. This man needs so much reassurance. It's possible, but it's a weird script flip, as he doesn't like being vulnerable, and it's very strange and uncanny at first. He just calms down and speaks openly and honestly, and when you're used to him being a cold, cruel, manipulative shithead, it's just... different.

Ilya is the most likely to sit down with you and ask you what you want when it comes to the children asking mommy and daddy how they met. Obviously, he doesn't want to scare them or make him think he's a horrible person (he might be, but not in regards to his children and wife, if he can help it) but he doesn't want to deny your truth either. That wouldn't be fair. He thinks the one thing that kept him sane was his mother, and he won't take that from his children. Your experience is important to him. You are important to him. He loves you deeply, but he will not deny the monster he can be at your expense. Unlike Corvus, he won't keep a lid on his secrets if you think it's important to be honest with them. He will impress subtlety and appropriate age, for their sakes, but what you want is important to him.

A lot of the initial fears and anxieties abate in the early years of the child's life, and things fall into a comfortable rhythm-- albeit with a little chaos, like tends to happen wth children. You will take your place comfortably at Ilya's side, and you'd be surprised how respectful he can be, especially in the open.

Obviously that horrible shit gets him off, but weirdly, your feelings will tend to come first. If you're exhausted because the baby kept you up all night, he will respect that and offer to tend to the child the next night. Obviously, intimacy with you is still very important to him, but he knows well enough how exhausting motherhood and fatherhood can be. Maybe Uncle Corvus takes them out for a little bit so mommy and daddy can have some alone time.

He, like the others, will take absolute care to ensure that nothing leaks out of the bedroom. Ilya is one of the few of them that actually really enjoys giving pleasure rather than holding it over your head (cough Corvus cough) and he's capable of being a great lover. So great, in fact, that you can almost trick your mind into thinking things were your idea. They tend to calm down into kink territory rather than terror territory. He will still scare you, and be very domineering, and have... unconventional desires (all of this is put very nicely for all of them btw because it feels odd mentioning in a post about their kids even if they aren't technically real), but at this point, it will likely send shivers down your spine. If he's kept you this long, you connect on a level that makes this possible.

Ilya is partial to homeschooling, as he is extremely educated and is capable of teaching them himself, but if you feel like it's important that the kids get an unbiased view of the world, he will help you school-shop. Ilya is very flexible on most things, although he does have staunch views on some others.

The main point is that your life before the kids doesn't have to come up or impact their upbringing at all. He's still him, but he's masterful at playing the incredible father-- or perhaps just being one, depending on your outlook. He's still a seedy, shady man, and he still has wants and desires that are... dubious, at best, but when he loves you and respects you, he can be rational and respectful.

The biggest issue might be maneuvering Ilya's love for his culture and past (you know, the proud bits) while not outright telling your children "Yes, daddy is a devil who was alive that long ago, actually." He might have to pretend it was a distant ancestor until they come of age and are old enough to truly understand. Thankfully, with Corvus in charge of the hells, it's easy for him to cut ties for the good of his children until they're old enough to understand or be on their own. Your kids will be raised to love and appreciate their ancestry, but um... he's going to leave the hell part out, if he can.

#morgana and friends #ilya the bastard #the bastard three (four)

[groovesnjams]

"summer after senior year" by Sarah Kang ft. Michael Carreon

DV:

As half of a web site that has a complicated relationship with nostalgia, and also as someone fully into middle age at this point, I'm fascinated by how my relationship to the idea of freedom has changed as I've gotten older. Was there a time in my life when the summer after senior year of high school felt like the most free I'd ever been? I don't actually think so - but there was a time when I thought that about having been in college itself, and then a time when I felt it about the year I was waiting tables and cooking and getting high, and then a time when I felt it about having lived around the corner from a music venue and spending nights filling garbage bags with four loko cans, and then and then. Maybe someday that wheel will stop turning! But I listen to Sarah Kang sing, "But we'll never be as free/ As the summer after senior year" and this feels like a particularly aged reaction but I want to say, "Just give it a couple years." You were always freer than you thought, and freedom works on a sliding scale, and maybe it's better to not romanticize a time when you didn't have money or needed to get your kicks by driving a little too fast. There are better things, freer things, just around the corner. It does sound catchy as hell though, which is a credit to Kang. For a moment there I was back listening to Radiohead on a cassette tape adapter plugged into a walkman, driving around the south side of Chicago trying to find something to do, and then I remembered that unloading trucks at a toy store for minimum wage really fucking sucked.

MG:

Wow, this song is awful! Setting aside any memories I might share as a counterpoint to "Summer After Senior Year" what, I ask you Sarah Kang and Michael Carreon, what the fuck is up with all the references to money and banking? This song opens with the line "never thought about taxes" and also works in $5, 401ks, and the, I believe false, admission that the writer "never stepped foot inside of a bank." This song is as much about these ideas as it is about how free it is to drive down the interstate with the wind in your hair and the radio turned up loud. And I find that on the bad side of weird, way too weird to be catchy. Anyway, I turned 25 in 2010, so I am almost a decade older than the song's narrator, but we're both in our 30s at this point. I had, in fact, set foot in a bank before graduating high school! I got my first job in the summer between my junior and senior year and, you won't believe this, I needed a bank account to cash my paychecks (if I didn't want to pay a vig to the payday loan store, but you better believe there were weeks where I did that, too!) I thought about taxes a lot because if I had precisely $10.21 and a tube of lipstick cost $8.49, would I have enough to pay the tax on that tube of lipstick (or would I steal it?) I agree that $5 was about the cost of a school lunch, but my parents paid for that and when they didn't, the school district gave me a peanut butter sandwich for free. I will concede that I did not know anything about a 401k -- embarrassingly, but honestly, I still don't know anything about a 401k.

I think these song lyrics were AI generated. They are almost like real song lyrics, almost.

#sarah kang #summer after senior year #michael carreon #music #nostalgia #yeah that's right we're gonna have a nostalgia tag now

[tau1tvec]

I hope it's okay to talk to you here. I feel that so many people compare themselves to others and feel bad because of that, that's so awful. I have also this feeling like, I do something, it's so nice, but I feel so bad after I see other people did such a great stuff. It's sad because I even wanted to leave simblr for good. I don't even know how to fight this feeling. I'm sorry and I hope you have a nice day and feel much better than me rn. <3

I'm sorry to hear about your predicament, anon, it's tough being a dark place like this and not knowing how to get out, and tbh I don't think there's any one successful, let alone easy way of doing so.

One thing I will say for sure however, is that this is a completely regular human feeling a lot of people experience, all the time. How you're going to recognize it, and work through it is what you should be focusing on. We certainly do not want to let negative thoughts mess with how we feel when we're in a situation like this, bc it can cause us to make rash, and unproductive decisions, but sometimes the best thing we can do is accept that a lot of the negativity around the issue is probably related to something bigger we're dealing with, but also the act itself.

Removing yourself from the situation all together for a time, if it's making you that upset, is never a terrible idea. Taking some time away from online spaces, and finding something else to focus on for a time, be it catching up on your watch list, or spending time outdoors can offer you the clarity you need to find out what it is exactly that's upsetting you, and what needs to be done to help you through it in the future.

The one thing ppl tend to forget about social media is that in the end all be all, it's a communal space, whose sole purpose is prioritize clicks, and ads. You're going to have to share this space with other ppl, your content is going to have to share this space with other content, even content that might make you feel bad, you have to be willing to use the tools this site and third party tools give you to make this place safer for you, and for others, bc as much as it hurts to tell you this, the majority of ppl on here, aren’t going to know how or when they need to accommodate for you, and you'd be swimming against the current trying to get them to, and although I, and many others do our best to do what we can, ppl cannot, and should not be expected to stop posting their content, just bc it makes yours feel like it pales in comparison, especially since that's just what you see, not what others see when they consume and appreciate your content regardless of how you feel about it.

Lemme reiterate, I've been there, I still go there, but I've accepted that it's tied to my mental health, and my imposter syndrome, and my past trauma, and those are all my responsibility to contend with, and I'd be a hell of a hypocrite to say that bc myself or my content feels inferior to me or compared to someone else, that it's suddenly somehow their problem too?

It's not, bc I know without a doubt someone has felt this about me and/or my content at some point in my life too, bc this is a regular human feeling, everyone feels, at some point in their life. The only difference is how we deal with it, and whether we let it define us, and everything we do.

#pls take care of yourself anon #and pls don't delete unless you just truly feel you HAVE too #tumblr should be fun not a struggle and an obligation #asks #anon

[scribhneoirtuirseach]

I'll Let the Seasons Change My Mind (3/10)

also on AO3

featuring: Mario, Luigi, Bowser, Kamek & Koopas

wordcount: 1125

"Lu! Mail for you down here!"

Stretching out nice and big, Luigi releases a content sigh as he stirs from his sleep. The sun is out but not too bright, providing a nice warmth to the spot he'd been previously curled up in. Perfect, really, for him to just curl back up and sleep again…

"Luigi Mario, don't make me come up there!" Mario calls up again in Italian this time— Must be grumpy from the late night out, Luigi can't say that he blames him all that much. The Toadstools really know how to party!

Soon changing into fresh clothes and making his way downstairs, Luigi runs a hand through his hair as he retrieves the envelope from the table. Not a bill, he notes groggily.

He takes a seat, thumb sliding under the fold to carefully pry it open before taking out the letter within.

"Mr. Luigi Mario is hereby invited to Bowser Castle, which should currently be floating some distance above Mushroom Kingdom, accessible by pipe for ease of travel.

P.S., No need to be anxious: You're the only guest."

"No time…" Luigi mutters softly to himself, brows knit together as he turns over the sheet.

Mario lets out an inquisitive him, setting Luigi's breakfast in front of him. "For what?"

"I'm invited to Bowser's— It doesn't say when to go." He informs, handing the letter over to free up his hands and begin eating.

"Just go when you're done breakfast, eh?"

"I might seem too eager."

"Are you eager?"

Pausing, Luigi squints and playfully jabs his fork in his brother's direction. "Not-a the point."

Hands raising in defence, Mario chuckles as he leans back against the counter. "I think you should go soon as you can, spend the day with him… We don't have anything happening, anyway. Perfect timing!"

Humming, Luigi vaguely wonders whether Mario has any involvement in… whatever this is about, but ultimately decides to shrug it off and focus on eating.

Barely half an hour passes before he leaves home and finds the correct pipe, eyes widening in curiosity at the site of the castle he plops in front of, much different to the last time he'd… 'visited'. The stone exterior is lighter now, must have been cleaned, and the facade of Bowser's face is— inexplicably less intimidating. Though, that might just be his own changed perception of things. 

The land around is no longer completely barren; Still dark, yes, but the grass is beginning to grow and leaves are starting to sprout on the trees. Could do with some flowers…

Flapping his hands for a moment to let go of his anxious energy, Luigi blows out a breath before walking to the gigantic front doors and reaching up in an attempt to tug on the knocker— Not a hope in hell, unfortunately, due to his height.

Luckily, there are Koopas inside who somehow know he's there and work to open the doors from the inside. Unluckily, Luigi loses his balance in his attempt to reach and falls forward into the castle after failing to fix his footing. Lucky a second time, Kamek's magic prevents him from going face first into the floor.

"Mamma mia!" The plumber chuckles nervously as he's set right again, cheeks glowing an embarrassed red by the time his feet touch the ground again. Trust him to mess up just entering a place!

Familiar thundering footsteps are heard approaching the entrance hall, and Luigi watches curiously as the Koopas quickly bow their heads when Bowser comes into their vision.

"Luigi! You're just in time, come along!" He seems thrilled, if not a little nervous, and Luigi can't help a smile, waiting a moment for Kamek to finish dusting him off before jogging to join the King's side.

"What is happening, did you need me for something?" He questions, curious.

"Oh, no, no," A large clawed hand comes up to brush Bowser's fur back as he begins to lead their way through the halls— It looks soft, the way it bounces slightly with each step. Luigi wonders in the back of his mind if it'd be considered offensive to pet it… Hell, if their strange considering-things situation it offensive. Are interspecies relationships accepted and common here? "I wanted to show you something." Thank goodness he can still hear when his mind insists on wandering.

Even so, it's better to will himself to focus than hope he catches context. Whatever this is, it's clearly important to Bowser… He finds himself not wanting to miss out. "Oh ye?"

Nodding, the King stops their tracks in front of another set of doors, hands reaching towards Luigi. When he doesn't move away or show any sign of discomfort, Bowser uses them to carefully cover his eyes for whatever surprise is ahead— By the sound of things, he's using his tail to push the door open as he continues to guide the human ahead. Endearing, the plumber feels.

"Okay, keep your eyes closed…"

Luigi does as he's told, doing his best not to pay mind to how cold his face suddenly feels when Bowser's hands leave it.

"Aaand… open!"

Ever obedient to the wishes of others, he opens his eyes, and they immediately widen with amazement at the room he finds himself in. No overwhelming overhead sources of light, no colours too intense, comfortable furniture, books a-plenty, and… a bouquet of peonies in Bowser's grasp.

After so long living in his brother's shadow, Luigi has been seen. "How…?"

"I had Kamek do some research— And some magic…" The King admits sheepishly as he steps closer, tail swaying proud behind him while he looks over his fine work. "Do you like it? I thought you might prefer spending time somewhere tailored for you, rather than those big, loud parties."

Glancing over to Luigi, his eyes widen to find those beautiful blues beginning to tear up. "And, and it's alright if you don't like it, I can change it! Anything you want—" He's cut off by the plumber jumping up and clinging onto him in his best attempt at a hug considering their size difference.

"It is perfect, Bowser," Luigi manages to whisper, relaxing at the feeling of large arms coming around him to support him. "A perfect space to share with you."

Steadying his own breathing as to not start crying himself, Bowser lets out a relieved huff through his snout as he closes his own eyes. He had been prepared for Luigi to outright refuse, or accept on the condition of being alone… But he wants Bowser's company, if their last few anything interactions are anything to go by— Something that will take time to truly believe, but hearing it truly is enough to melt a previously hardened heart.

#bowuigi #bowuigi fic #my writing #i'll let the seasons change my mind #mario mario #luigi mario #bowser #kamek #koopas #autistic luigi #sensory friendly room

[burning-basilisk]

I am the entire IT department of this place.

I am Help Desk.

I am Sysadmin.

I am executive management. Mainly because both of my actual bosses (On-site General Manager and remote corporate overlord) have no hard technical background. I was a software engineer for 7 years before this. And holy shit the whiplash.

My formal title is "IT Operations Manager", but I have nobody to manage. It's only me. I have complete authority over the IT infrastructure and am spending like 30% of my time doing help desk work. One minute I am setting top-level security policy, and the next, I am using a knife to pry an ethernet cable out of a laptop because apparently using the plastic tab to pull it out isn't intuitive for everyone.

I have learned a hell of a lot in the last few months.

But the thing that inspired this post, that I really want to talk about, but am struggling to find people to discuss with...

If I am walking across the facility to deal with an issue, there's like a 30% chance that someone will walk up to me with another issue that I need to deal with. I haven't implemented a help desk ticketing system yet. Haven't had the space.

But if I happen to be exhausted or in a bad mood when I respond to them, they will be hesitant to tell me when things break. This makes my job worse. I am not THEIR manager, but I'm still one of the Top Brass in this place. It doesn't matter how soft of a person I actually am, the workers here still don't want to upset me, and will swerve the hell away from me if they think they might be.

Even if I didn't care about being liked and was totally Machiavellian about how I treat people at work, this is bad.

I've read so much about the emotional labor of customer service.

Turns out, management has emotional labor, too. Except here, nobody will tell me when I'm being unapproachable. And it's also nobody else's problem.

If I can't be consistently friendly to the people around me, they will be disinclined to communicate with me. If cracks in the infrastructure appear, I won't know until something catches fire.

I cannot safely express my frustration or even exhaustion to *anyone* here, without making my job harder, regardless of how good of a rapport I may have with them.

I am the only computer professional in the building. Even the most well-meaning instance of "He is tired and overworked, let's not put more on his plate" could keep me ignorant of an impending disaster.

The entire intranet got completely fucked because someone plugged both ports of an IP phone into the same dumb switch, and I was up until 3AM trying to figure out what the fuck happened and I still haven't had the space to properly research how to overhaul this place's hackjob of a network out of the stone age. But they don't want to bother me with silly shit like helping people move cubicles when the job I was actually hired to do was implement automation into this manufacturing process.

My Corporate Overlords swear that they are working on hiring me help. But maybe I'm not squeaky enough of a wheel to get some grease.

/rant

#personal

[iztarshi]

Febuwhump Day 1 - Touchstarved

Fandom: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

It takes April longer than she’d like to admit to realise she’s being wound up. Lately she’s joined a World Wildlife Fund group at college and for once she’s actually kind of fitting in. She’d been excited and then Leo had said, “So, they like animals? Not trees?” and ten minutes later it seems kind of logical that they might be behind the herbicide because if they like animals they… hate plants?

“Okay, none a that made any sense at all,” she says, as if she hadn’t been ranting along.

“But are you sure?” he asks. “It’s you so if you’re getting along with them they’ve got to be yokai in disguise or a secret society or robots or something.”

April flicks his forehead and she’d do worse if he wasn’t sitting propped up against a stack of pillows wearing more bandages than a mummy. “Quit bein’ a jerk. I know you’re bored, but you don’t gotta insult my new friends.” He grimaces, hands fluttering. “I can tell Splintz if you need more pain meds, but you still gotta quit it.”

“I’m not in pain. I just. Ugh.” He wraps his arms around himself and then uncurls again. “Sorry, Apes. Your new friends sound cool.” He makes big, shiny eyes at her which is fine. The line between ‘genuine apology’ and ‘overwhelming guilt’ is a bit of a fine one right now, and this lands on the right side of it. Yes, Leo will knock it off, no, he won’t mope about it for days.

“Uh huh,” she says. “They are cool. And if you’re good I’ll give you more gossip.”

“Thank you, I am dying of boredom here.”

He probably is, he’s fidgety as hell today, and it’s good that his energy is back but it’s got to be torture for him to stay in bed like a good, well-behaved patient.

“Knew that’s what’s wrong with you.”

“Yeah, that and I need a hug.” He flicks a grin at her quickly. “I am not used to going this long without being lavished in affection by my adoring fans.”

“Aw, baby. Hugs have been banned?” Not that she’d considered hugging him when he’s held together by bandages and staples. She guesses they’ve all been being careful of him and for Leo, who likes to spend as much of his time as possible hanging off people, that’s got to be pretty lonely.

“Yeah, well, Mikey tried and Raph told him not to with this whole situation and I don’t wanna argue with Raph or make him think I’m not taking this seriously or trying to get better or whatever he’d worry about ‘cause you know he’s still worrying about me and even if he’s not really angry-angry I would still way rather -”

April moves to sit beside him on the bed, cutting off a sentence that didn’t seem likely to find an ending anytime soon.

“I don’t think he’s gonna get that mad,” she says. “And if he does he’ll have to go through me.”

April holds her arms out and Leo gives her a bright, wobbly grin, before scooping her into his own arms. She does try to be careful, he might need a hug but she doesn’t want to dislodge bits of his shell even if she’s pretty sure they’re healing together by this point. Not and waste all the time she and Donnie spent looking up what to do for broken turtle shells on pet sites.

Leo is only as careful with her as the turtles usually are, which means remembering she has a spine, not a shell, and is also lacking whatever super-strength lets them lug those huge shells around at high speed all day. She hopes he’s not doing anything terrible to his fractured arm holding onto her this tight.

“Better?” she asks.

“Yeah.” He chuckles. “It’s like cuddling a teddy bear. You’re so small and soft and fluffy, with big round ears.” He nuzzles one of her buns.

“You better not be getting snot in my hair,” she warns him.

“Who, me? I’m not crying.”

#febuwhump day 1 #rottmnt #rise turtles #this one came out more fluff than whump #going to be writing a lot of movie aftermath that's not in continuity with each other #febuwhump

[daggryet]

❤💛

NEUVILETTE IS SOON TO BE HERE HELL YEEEEEEAAAH!!!!!

i wanna pull for him. im gonna pull for him

it's like. i like him a lot, I like his design, I like his whole thing AND his hydro and a catalyst which suits me very well

i only have Barbara for a hydro and while with certain artifacts she makes pyroenemies (like, yknow, the bosses, for ascension materials) easy peasy she's just. she's not it (also like. it's soooo hard for me to ascend her cause I need to kill the water thing for it and you need archers for that AND I AIN'T DOING ARCHERS NO WAY)

i might actually build fischl but like. only after i build my main and sub-team. so very not right now

I hope neuvilette will be good. i don't actually play catalysts that much but I hope he'll be good. i even know what I kind of team I want to put him in, if his talents allow it. my hopes is that he will be similar to ningguang because I like her playstyle. or barbara, cause she's not bad either, just difficult to ascend and also a healer which is not what I want (I wanna put neuvie with yaoyao if it works. him, yaoyao and kuki and like. idk maybe xiangling. she kind of got replaced by thoma because i found his skills worked better for me with beidou. and also I love him and I am not above salivating at pixels)

on that note: you've mentioned you've built thoma and same!!!! im in the process. what kind of artifacts do you have on him? I wanna lean into his defense/shielder thing but all the guides are so confusing

also, yknow what's been in my mind: does anyone main Lisa? like someone must. but I've never seen that

ALSO ALSO: razor and lisa both say "blitz" when using their elemental skills. it's cute (though Lisa's flirty while razors is a scream)

this reads a little like an oldtimey letter lol. I feel compelled to sign off like

"With my best regards,

❤💛"

or smth

NEUVILLETTE IS ALMOST HERE!!!! i'm so excited, will be my third debut character with lyney and kaveh. i really hope i'll get him early since i've only got 19k rn, and i have such a long list of characters i wanna pull for lmao there's yae miko, cyno (for 4ggravate completion, tighnari will come home at some point i believe!!), venti would be nice for crowd control

i've not built my barbara but doing the last banner, i got her c6 so i'm kind of hoping neuvillette will work well with her so i have an excuse to build her. the only downside is that i'd have to fight a lot of oceanids and omg that boss kicked my ass when o had higher level than it, it's kicking my ass even harder now that it's 10 levels above me. even with lyney who is so cracked, i died like three times las time i attempted it, so i feel your pain!!!! FUCK OCEANIDS!!!!

you did remind me of xiangling, i always mean to build her but then i get sucked into trying to get the perfect artifacts for my main team and well. i'm not spending money on genshin, but damn do i feel scammed in domains. so many hp and defense pieces when i'm just farming for my dps

i don't play a lot of catalyst characters actually, wanderer is the only one i Really use and i think that's because he's flying so while he is vulnerable (like all catalyst characters are), he is still a bit harder to reach than normal catalyst characters. but for neuvie, with his design and his va and his personality, i will make a difference and learn how to play catalysts well. i did it for lyney and bow characters, i will do it for neuvie as well.

and for thoma!!! my best boy. i don't have a set as such for him, i read somewhere his shield scales off of hp, so i've just slapped A LOT of hp and hp% pieces on him. if that site lied to me, well shit. i will have to go look for which specific set is good for him, but i've been leveling artifacts so much recently i have like ten four stars left. and his talents are like 2-7-6 i think.

i dont know, i'm suere there's a reddit group for them but i've been thinking of leveling her and building her, so maybe she can be in an alhaitham team with a lot of er and a very leveled burst talent.

also that's cute:') i love when characters have matching lines

#ask #❤💛 anon

[sucrows]

Do you still accept tierlist suggestion?

If yes: who would look for relationships or hook ups on dating apps or online?

If no: hello I hope you’re doing well!!!!!

DID YOU SEE THE NEW JUN CARD

hell yeah tierlists are always welcome

alright, so this tierlist is one i think requires a decent bit of elaboration in order to make sense so I'll add that under the cut

Hiyori likes attention, likes sex, and does not care about pissing off people all too much, so he's the only one who ends up in often lmao

Kaoru probably used to be often in ! but has chilled out (only a bit though, he still likes to fuck). Mama is all over the world so you know he's had plenty of opportunities, he also doesn't care about pissing people off.

HiMERU is complicated, but I think seeking someone out online anonymously is probably one of the few ways he'd be able to find someone if he really wanted to blow off some steam (should he not want to involve anyone he already knows). Arashi also likes the attention and likes it when weak simple men trip over themselves for her, though I doubt she ever actually spends time on dates or meetups. Anzu isn't nearly as much a public figure so she has a lot more freedom, but she also has plenty of people tripping over themselves for her affection in the square so i doubt she needs to ever bother with online stuff. Jun mostly just casually swipes and chats, but if someone really catches his attention, he might be willing to meet. Mayoi, Makoto, and Mika I'd say are all people more likely to meet people on sites like forums about niche interests (aka kinks) and only be willing to meetup after a lot of discussion confirming similar desires.

Kuro is DTF and has little shame, but the desire just doesn't strike him that often (and lets be real he has multiple people he could turn to in the square if he really feels like it). Nazuna is exploring his freedom at Uni, but he also cares about Ra*bits reputation so he's pretty cautious of meetups. Ore Rei probably landed a bit higher, but now he mostly just uses a rare fling or two to dabble in emotional vulnerability, ouch. While Subaru is open to online dating stuff, he prefers to seek people out in person (and also prefers people he already knows imo). Wataru just likes to fuck around and play with people but if someone really intrigues him he may be down for a date or two.

the last tier has a lot of people so i don't wanna go in depth but here are some basic reasonings for why they're there: Takes too much work (Leo, Kanata, Ritsu, Niki, Shu). Don't like strangers (Ibara, Izumi, Koga, Shu, Natsume). Lower sex drive (Adonis, Shu, Eichi, Chiaki, Tsumugi, Hokuto). Don't like flings/casual relationships (Shu, Chiaki, Tatsumi, Yuzuru, Mao, Souma). Have other people/prefer other methods of meeting people (Rinne, Leo, Tatsumi, Souma). Don't have the free time (Ibara, Izumi, Shu, Tsumugi, Eichi, Keito, Mao).

#i think its very funny you send this ask rn as i've just started fucking around on tinder again lmao #also not ignoring your comment on jun i'm just answering another ask on the subject in a sec #asks #tierlist

[bts5sosempire]

helloo(๑> <๑), can I ask app/website do you use to edit your fanfics, if it's okay with you? (I'm starting to write fanfics of my own and I couldn't find any app/website)

There are a lot, since I'm only using mobile version of the app(s) since it's more convenient for me to write on the get-go without bringing or opening my laptop all the time.

PureWriter (used to)

JotterPad (what I am currently using)

Grammarly Keyboard (what I am also currently using too)

Google Docs (used to)

Well, to start on PureWriter, I give it prolly a 7.5/10, I like the format and all, but the catalogs are a pain in the ass. Plus, you can't collapse a thread of your separate work, too, if you're writing for different stories. I hate trying to rearrange them in order so I kind of give up on that. It has a word reader to keep track of your word count and letters too. There are also constant updates on the app, so there are always new features being added, so I'm also not trying to keep up with that. I have the copy and paste thingy, as it double spaces my work and won't italicize or bold them correctly when needed.

For JotterPad, I give it an 8.5/10; it had its moment when I fought with it in the past. But there is an option for you to use the basic format, but you could also buy the add-ons if you wish. I may be biased, but I find it more convenient as you can link your account from Tumblr to JotterPad when transferring over whatever you're writing without the "copy and paste" type. Like PureWriter, it also had a word and character counter, so you can track how much you've written. It also gives you a statistics progress graph (like PureWriter, but in a different font, I guess). You can create folders (within another folder, again and again), which is a lifesaver, as I can separate my works into categories -> it almost works like a thread. I don't trust Tumblr enough to save in draft; the many times Tumblr ate my posts when I spend so many hours/days are agonizing.

Grammarly keyboard is a great way to use whatever app you use to write. Still, the hideous word recommendations are a thorn in the side at times when you're using an unfamiliar terminology or another synonymous that not the general audience knows. Like you fool, I'm trying to educate others and expand their vocabulary; let me do my sh*t. I say a solid 8/10, if for not the lagging it sometimes had. The app also had a desktop site, which I will not be talking about since I rarely use it. But if you do have your own words or terms, make sure to add them, or else this keyboard will auto-correct them for you.

Google docs, I'm sure I don't need to explain that here. No score.

But these are just my opinions, tho; you could try and see if they're to your liking or not; I'm sure there would be others who are willing to help you if they write a comment under the post or interact with you. Suppose I'm missing something or forgot to add.

Words of advice: block any porn bots on sight too, they could be liking and reblogging your stuff with a pfp of a hawt woman. So no hesitation. Also blank blogs.

Taggings: make sure to tag many things related to your content too. Thus, this will lead your content to be more exposed to others who like the stuff you put out that is related to their interest. You can check the "the tyrant" series I'm working on atm to see how the tagging(s) goes.

Taggings (tw): the "tw" stands for trigger warning, so if you happened to write any sensitive content that could potentially be in your series/ work, make sure to add them in your tagging if possible or add them at the very beginning of your list of content. Ex: tw frogs, tw cooties, or tw pink guy. If you don't put it, some people might stumble upon your work and unleash hell or politely tell you to edit and add tw to your work.

#writings #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #writing problems #fan fiction #anime #writing help #fanfic writing #I hope this helps

[yoiku]

Just feeling like unpacking and sorting out some thoughts on this wonderfully rainy morning (begone, roadside dust!!)

Now, I've always been the type to post new art the moment it's done. Posting stuff only on Patreon has still proven easier than I expected. Perhaps since i am still posting stuff -somewhere- it doesn't feel as weird, even though I do miss the interaction from posting on socials. But that'll be back once I have a buffer big enough to keep Patreon relevant. It's also getting easier on letting posting on social wait as time goes by, lol. Actually thought that what if I make the publish gap with the comic even bigger, like several months between Patreon/other sites. But aaaah, I really do want to get it out. It might create more of a gap with time anyway. And the best way to get new people interested in my Patreon is to have interesting stuff out there in the wild. And I'll be honest, it feels validating af to see even a few people willing to spend money to access my Patreon.

It's still conflicting sometimes, because I would really want to keep my stuff available to everyone without paywalls. Art in general is meant to be shared and should be accessible to everyone, this is something I feel on a larger scale. Things like commissioned, unique pieces are luxurious though. They are after all often personal as well. Artists don't live on grants and stipends, hell, even those are usually available for artists who have already made a name for themselves on a larger scale/are well connected. Majority I know struggle with part time jobs, unemployment, studying or are disabled, barely scraping by what they can get in terms of welfare etc. I'm no different. I'm on welfare due to health reasons + in debt, so basically I don't have any "extra" money at the end of each month left for nice things™. And if I do, it usually goes to paying a larger portion of debt away. Sometimes I spend and always regret it later, lol. But if you -never- get to treat yourself even a little, life starts to feel quite depressing. I know so many people are in the same kind of position, where it's just not possible to pay for more than 1-2 subscription services monthly, or none. So having my art behind a Patreon paywall of any kind feels bad, knowing I would likely not be able to afford it myself, lol. Will it ever be easy to combine the thought of art + money without having dreadful crapitalism thoughts creep in? Probably not.

I still want to do my best to pick up some commissions as well, I need to create some sort of hidden stash of money now that I have the cat. Because when (inevitably at some point) a trip to the vet happens, that's going to be at least a hundo no matter what. And when the last trip to the vet arrives, that's gonna be closer to 300-400 with all the cheapest options. (hopefully not anytime soon, but something i have to take into account) I am currently working on a painting comm and might have another one coming up as well, which is giving me much joy. Watercolours are a lot of work, but they're less taxing in the sense that there's only so much detail you can do compared to digital, and tradi allows the happy little accidents with the medium. So it's easier to feel like I did my best wihtout having the thought "ah... i should've kept fixing it"(without asking for more money bc I gotta do better ad infinitum) So I'm really happy peeps have shown interest in tradi comms, even though I'm not very well versed in techniques with those. Learning tho!

My head's been in a relatively good place for a good while now, all things considered. But I have to pull the brakes on myself every now and then because I know it only takes one hard hit in the old mental health for all of it going to shit in the blink of an eye. So I'm trying to tread carefully, prep and plan while keeping the bar set low enough.

Mom has moved to hospice care, which also means that getting the phonecall about her passing can also be any day now. I feel like I've made my peace with it, but even if it doesn't initially hit hard, I'm pretty sure it will bring some mental struggle later. And there will be the whole episode of handling her stuff afterwards. Thankfully there won't be any wealth to distribute, so likely all the mandatory/legal expenses will be handled by welfare. How dreadful that even in that, money is the first thing to have to worry about, huh.

At least the sun has returned from the winter jail, bright days lighten the mind.

#behind a cut just because i think it might get long #shut up yoi #mostly just art thoughts #some mom updates at the end