#razor will probably be fine eating it

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

Okay so like, I’ve never requested anything so I don’t really even expect you to see this lol. But likeeee, can I possibly request a Din Djarin x reader, where neither the reader or Din know Grogu has the armor under his robe that the armorer gave him, and something happens where Grogu gets hurt and they both lose their minds before getting to him and realizing little dude is just fine. Please and thank you 🥹

Ooooh this is a good prompt. Speaking of, if you've asked for one then it's probably on my to-do list, but i am slow🤡. plus, updates of AFS and a couple other things come before random drabbles.

Din Djarin x Female!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k (i dont think I'm capable of writing less than a thousand words apparently smh)

AT FAULT

"don't let fear make your decisions." -Michael G. Manning

The quarry was laid on his back as a pool of purple blood began to settle in the sand under him. The twi'lek was motionless and your breathing was finally starting to calm. In one arm you held Grogu who seemed nonplussed by the violence at hand and in your other you held the still smoking blaster. When you managed to tear your eyes off the quarry's body they lifted to land on Din who stood stiff on the other side of the body.

"What the kriff was that?" Din snapped. His entire body was drawn taut like a wired rope pulled to tight. He was nearly vibrating in place and the anger that leaked into his voice was palpable. "Karking⏤ what the hell do you think you're doing out here!?"

His tone made your already irritable mood worse. You stuck the rarely used blaster back into the holster at your thigh. "Apparently, saving you! Maybe show a little gratitude!"

"Grati⏤” The word wasn’t even able to leave Din’s mouth. He stormed forward, boots passing the dead quarry, until he stood right in front of you. Close enough that the Mandalorian was forcing you to tilt your head up to look at him. You knew he stood that close on purpose⏤ he wanted to tower over you right now. “The two of you could’ve gotten killed! I told you not to leave the Razor Crest!”

“We’ve been on that ship for two weeks straight, Din!” You argued. “We just wanted a little fresh air⏤”

“I told you this quarry was dangerous, I said⏤”

“All your quarries are dangerous, Din. You⏤”

“When I tell you to stay on the damn ship,” Din grabbed your by the arm not holding Grogu, “I expect you to kriffing listen. Dank farrik, cyar’ika.” The way he spat out your usual nickname made you wince. “I told you this quarry was bad news⏤”

“And I told you that you shouldn't have taken the bounty!” You yelled and tried to yank your arm free. Din held on tight, and Grogu began to babble worriedly in your arms. “I told you we should take a break! Take a breath! We all need it, even you. Especially, you!”

You yanked your arm back again and this time it broke free. Din settled on placing his hands on his hips, but you could still feel his anger radiating off of him. Tempers had been running high the last few weeks, stuck on a close quarter ship while stressing over the Empire being on your heels, and it seemed the two of you were finally letting it come to a head. 

“It’s naive of you to think we have the time for a break.” Din seethed. “I take bounties so we can afford fuel to run, food to eat, and⏤” He shook his head, taking in a sharp breath before continuing. “You tell me to show you gratitude? Gratitude because you risked yours and Grogu’s life for me?” Din took one step toward you and you took two steps back so he stayed a foot or so away. He pointed to himself. “Everything I do, my only priority, is keeping you and Grogu safe. Away from the Empire. So, how about you show a little gratitude and stay on the damn ship when I tell you to.”

Grogu whined in your arms and you shifted him to the other in a poor attempt to console him. You weren’t ready to climb onto the Razor Crest quite yet. You weren’t done with this fight. Din’s anger and words only spurring you on further.

“You think I’m not grateful for all you do?” You spat. “Of course, I am, you ass! I just hate watching you burn yourself into the ground for us. You need to take care of yourself too, Din. That involves taking a break now and then! That’s why I suggested leaving this bounty untouched. I just want to help.”

Din nodded once then tilted his head. “Right. Yeah. Putting Grogu and yourself at risk was a lot of help. I feel much better. Thank you, cyar’ika.”

You scoffed, “You know what, Din? You are⏤”

The sound of an unfamiliar chuckle and your eyes snapped from the dark t-shape visor to the quarry sitting up with a menacing grin. It took less than a second. It happened so quickly that your mind couldn’t register the movements fast enough.

A blaster raised.

A blaster fired.

And, you didn’t have the time to spin away. The force of the blaster bolt knocked you right off your feet and onto the ground. 

You heard Din scream, the sound hoarse and raw and broken, then you heard another blaster go off. As you laid on your back, you realized you weren’t hurting. Your back was a little sore from landing on it, but you didn’t feel the sharp burning pain of a blaster scorching through your skin. That’s when your brain finally clicked. That’s when you realized. Grogu. Oh, Maker. Grogu. Grogu, baby⏤ Your eyes snapped down to see the little boy’s eyes closed and the front of his robe was blackened from the blow.

The scream that filled the air this time was yours. You felt the sound reverberate in the base of your throat, it rattled your chest, but the only noise you could hear was the racing heartbeats that pounded in your ears. You sat up, cradling him to your chest, and you could feel gloved hands pawing at your arms. Someone was trying to take him⏤ someone was trying to take him from you. You screamed once more, your body shook, and a gloved hand cupped the side of your face. Nothing registered until you saw Grogu blink his big eyes open. Your breath caught in your throat. That same gloved hand pulled aside Grogu’s ruined robe and the telltale shine of beskar stared back up at you. A mudhorn adorning the plate that Grogu wore at the center of his chest.

Grogu let out a soft mumble and smiled up at you. 

“Oh, thank the Maker.” Din breathed. “Cyar’ika. Cyar’ika? Cyari’ka!” A hand titled your face up, tearing your eyes away from Grogu who was wiggling in your tight grip. You met the dark t-shape visor of Din’s helmet. “Are you okay? Did it clip you? Are you hurt?”

You shook your head and opened your mouth, but all that came out was a ragged sob. Even after Din pulled you both into his arms, you continued to cry against his silver beskar plated chest until your own chest ached from how badly each sob racked your body. Grogu seemed content to be squashed between you and Din. 

Hours later, in the quiet of hyperspace, Din sat in the pilot’s chair with you on his lap, cradled against his body, while you held Grogu tight to yours. It seemed since the incident Din refused to let either of you go, and you had no desire to complain. Having his arms wrapped around you while you watched Grogu sleep was the safest you had ever felt.

“I’m so sorry, Cyar’ika.” Din whispered. His unmodulated words were muffled by the way he rested his face at the top of your head⏤ buried his lips into your hair to continue peppering light kisses anywhere he had access. In this position, your head tucked under his, you couldn’t see his face. “I am so, so sorry.”

You shook your head lightly. When you spoke, your voice was ragged from screaming earlier, “No, I am. I should’ve listened to you, Din. I should’ve stayed on the ship.” Your eyes began to water again. “I almost got Grogu killed.”

“No. No, that wasn’t your fault. Ner mesh'la cyar'ika, ibic hara cuyir pal'vut.” Din mumbled the end of his sentence in Mando’a. “You were right. I shouldn’t have taken that bounty. I can’t lose the two of you and I’ve grown… obsessive in trying to protect you.”

“It’s worked. You’ve kept us safe. If I had listened to you⏤”

“You’re not prisoners. I can’t lock you away from the world because of my fear.” Din cut in. You let your free hand trace down the small bridge of Grogu’s nose and he scrunched it up at the contact while staying soundly in his sleep. Nothing Din would say could rid you of this guilt entirely. If he wanted to claim the mistake he could, but that didn’t make it any less your fault as well. “Please speak to me.”

You closed your eyes and lifted your head so you could press a kiss against Din’s throat. He shuddered and sighed at the touch. “Can we just agree that this is both of our faults?”

“We can.” Din shrugged, his arms tightened around you. “But I'd rather you not take any of the blame.”

“Yes, well, unfortunately as we’ve learned, I’m not good at listening.” You mumbled.

Din chuckled. “Good. I don’t want you to blindly listen to me. Your ideas are equally as good as mind, if not occasionally better.” He closed the space to press a soft kiss against yours. It was sweet and tender. Not a declaration of lust or desire, but a reassurance that you were there. Din broke away to whisper. “But if you could at least let me know when you are leaving the ship, I’d appreciate it.”

“Only if you promise to take us somewhere pretty soon.”

“I’m already ahead of you, cyar’ika.” As he spoke, his lips brushed against yours and you had no desire to lean back away from him. Din moved his hand and you could feel his hand brush against the side of your arm every time he soothingly rubbed Grogu’s head. “Crest is on route to Naboo.”

You pressed another light peck of your lips against his before leaning your head back down against his chest. Din settled his head back on top of yours, and you felt the soft caress of his thumb against your arm from the hand that was wrapped around you. Din pulled you and Grogu a hair closer, and you reveled in the silence of hyperspace.

"Also, when did Grogu get a mudhorn beskar chestplate?"

"Your guess is as good as mine."

mando'a translations

Ner mesh'la cyar'ika, ibic hara cuyir pal'vut. [My beautiful darling, this sin is mine.]

#asks #feel free to ask me about anything!! #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #mando x reader #mando x you #mandalorian x you #mandalorian x reader #grogu #angst/comfort #fluff

[mousy-nona]

Chronicles of Cursed Cat Alastor

One day, the hotel woke up to see Alastor’s perpetual “on air” sign had been turned off. His room was empty, his coffee ice cold. 

And in the middle of the lobby was a cat. Or what seemed to be the approximate shape and size of a cat, but with the strangest, most evil face any of them had ever seen. It grinned up at them and wagged its little stump of a tail, which made Charlie melt into a puddle of happy tears.

“Isn’t he adorable?” She squealed.

And that was that. The cat joined their weird little family – and Lucifer secretly resolved to get his daughter to an eye doctor. Stat. 

—-----------------

“Charlie, are you sure about this one? There’s something weird about that cat.” Lucifer eyed the red thing warily. “It’s looking at Keekee like it wants to eat it!” 

“Don’t be silly! Mr. Montgomery is probably trying to be her friend!” She frowned. “It’s so strange. Keekee’s never been this skittish around other cats before.” 

A thin line of drool was falling from the edge of Mr. Montgomery’s mouth. When he noticed Lucifer watching, he sucked it back up and graced him with a freakish, utterly too human grin.  

—-----------------

Lucifer’s wedding anniversary hit him like a truck. That is, he didn’t handle it very well. He got up, fully intending to make a show of his utterly fantastic mood – haha, look how great I feel! Your mother didn’t crush my heart and set it on fire with a flamethrower after all! – but found it was all too much of a bother, and sat promptly back down. He laid his head on his desk. Just a few more minutes. Then I’ll leave. 

He didn’t even notice Mr. Montgomery had waltzed in until the abomination jumped up onto his desk. The cat loomed over him, his razor teeth inches from Lucifer’s nose. 

“Can I help you?” He sniffled. Couldn’t a man mourn the end of his marriage in peace? 

Mr. Montgomery tilted his head with a sickening crack, his neck nearly bending into a right angle as he studied Lucifer’s red eyes, the mountain of used tissues accumulating by the desk, the ring he was clutching in his hand.

Stretching leisurely (in the exact same way he learned from Keekee, Lucifer noted), Mr. Montgomery strolled over to a picture of Lilith he had on his desk – and smacked it off. He stared at him the entire time, as if daring him to do something about it.

“Are you…are you power playing me right now?” 

“Meow,” Mr. Montgomery sneered. 

“That’s it, you little freak! Come to Daddy!”

When Charlie got home, she found Lucifer with his six wings fully spread and the hotel half destroyed by angelic bolts, panting and wheezing as he tore a couch apart. 

“Dad, what are you doing?” 

He whirled around, his eyes wild as he zapped a vaguely cat-shaped shadow into oblivion. “It’s that monster! That cat! I can hear him in the walls!”

“Isn’t he behind you…?” Vaggie asked.

And he was. Mr. Montgomery was sitting on a shelf over the reception, licking his paw and yawning. 

Lucifer deflated. “Ah. I guess he is.”

“Dad, isn’t today…?” Charlie trailed off, blushing a little.

“Oh! Right. Yes, it is,” Lucifer said. He’d been so busy chasing Mr. Montgomery around, he’d completely forgotten about his anniversary. 

“Are you doing okay?”

He sighed and pulled her into a hug. “Yes, I’m fine. I was a little sad at first, but then I got distracted.”

“Burning down the hotel?” Vaggie asked. Mr. Montgomery meowed and started purring, looking as pleased as a cat that had gotten the cream.

—-----------------

“That cat is trying to kill me!” Lucifer roared, pointing at the wholly unrepentant Mr. Montgomery.

The accused murderer jumped onto Charlie’s lap and started kneading her lap. Everyone let out a collective awww! Charlie nearly teared up, and Angel Dust snapped a picture for his Voxstagram. Even Vaggie, the sole voice of reason, was making what the kids called heart eyes at the monster. 

Lucifer nearly tore out his hair in frustration. “He’s tricking you, don’t you see? That cat has it out for me! This is the third time he’s tried to kick rat poison into my food!” 

“Don’t be silly, Dad! He’s just a cat. Cats knock stuff over all the time!” 

“Rat poison? Three times?” 

Charlie looked around, frowning. “Who keeps putting rat poison on the shelves?” 

No one fessed up. Mr. Montgomery let out a loud purr and fixed Lucifer with the most hair-raising, devilishly smug grin Lucifer had ever seen. 

“Did no one see that? Seriously, did no one else see that?”

—-----------------

A few weeks passed before someone finally broached the question that was on everyone’s mind.

“Has anyone seen Alastor?” Charlie tapped her nose with her pencil, frowning a bit. “It’s strange for him to be gone this long.” 

“Oh, oh! I’ve seen him!” Niffty raised her hand and waved it frantically. “He’s right over there!”

Everyone turned – but all they saw was a furry red blob warming himself near the fire. 

“Niffty, doll, have you been sniffing the toilet cleaner again?” Angel Dust asked gently.

“Nooo, silly. The cat is Alastor!” Niffty chirped, clapping her little hands with delight. Mr. Montgomery – no, scratch that – Alastor blinked his left eye, then his right eye, and smiled blandly up at all of them.

“But…but…how?” Angel Dust stuttered.

She shrugged, her shoulders going all the way up to her ears. “Dunno. He’s got a few weird friends who like to play tricks on him. Isn’t it great? He showed up all fluffy and cuddly! Perfect for hugs!” 

Alastor the Cat looked remotely nervous for the first time since he’d appeared. 

“How do we turn him back?” Lucifer demanded. He would rather die than admit it, but he sort-of-kind-of missed the sadistic demon that made his life Hell. It was getting kind of boring without him around. 

“Dunno! Ask him!”

Once again, they all turned to the cat, who opened his mouth – “Meeeeow.”

#hazbin hotel #alastor #cursed cat alastor #hazbin hotel lucifer #crack fic #not an ask #but god i love cursed cat alastor so much #radioapple #well light hints of radioapple

[bpcr3yes]

Hello again, lately I've been obsessed with Valeria Garza and I decided to write some headcanons about her because I'm tired of only talking to bots 💀

VALERIA GARZA HEADCANONS (realisct maybe?) (a little subjective??? I don't know)

She is a woman with a strong personality, fearless, focused, stubborn, arrogant.

She is el sin nombré, owner of the biggest cartel in Latina America, she certainly had many women. She has a preference for chubby women, she likes to squeeze, you would probably be an anti-stress ball for her.

I have a lot of doubts about her being bisexual or lesbian (or straight if we could even add that option) but I believe she is a lesbian, a furious one at that, about her relationship with Alejandro I believe she used him (she appears to have a personality narcissistic and manipulative) she used him to get information so her plan could work.

I believe that when she was a soldier in the armed forces, she was totally confident and determined, many men were around her because she was beautiful (and hot) so she had a razor instead of a tongue I believe, she was always shouting insults or belittling men, only with her commanders she was more... well-behaved.

In the interrogation part, we see her tell Alejandro that she didn't take orders anymore, but then you can understand that he was her commander, and she was certainly angry with him.

After she became owner of the cartel, her life became extremely stressful, she doesn't trust any of her men (I think Diego was an exception) she believes if something needs to be done it's perfectly fine to have a woman do it because she thinks men they don't think.

I like to think that she has a trophy wife that she only takes to events like parties, bars and meetings. The wife's only job is to stand there being pretty and not say a single thing.

Now let's talk about this truly passionate woman of ours.

If you are in a long-term relationship (5 or 3 years) she would be completely in love with you. The type of wife who comes home and gives you a long kiss and hug, to make up for lost time.

Every month you go out to eat at a fancy restaurant and then spend the night together. (a long night I can say)

In public, like at events or on the street when you go out together, she rarely shows any type of physical touch, she prefers to remain secret. When she's in the Cartel it's totally different, she makes a point of kissing and grabbing you in front of everyone without caring, she would probably touch you sensually in front of her men but if someone is bold enough to think they can have fun together, She shoots twice. One on the head and the other on the penis.

She is a possessive woman, she would politely (not so politely) ask you to have her initials tattooed on your hip. She would also have a tattoo about you on the back of her neck.

about Family, this part is a little confusing when I create the headcanons. Most of the hcs I read said that she had mommy issues, I believe she was a daddy's girl, while her mother was narcissistic to the extreme, always belittling her for simple things.

Her mother probably had a lot of problems with medication. I also think that Valeria always had an attitude, never lowering her head to anyone. No matter the occasion.

Her family on her father's side loved her and disliked her mother, she probably had kind and caring grandparents and aunts. I like to think that she spent a lot of time with her grandmother, cooking, helping her with everything.

She must have had cousins too, she and them would turn the house upside down.

There's a part in the interrogation scene where Alejandro is saying that she ruined the army and he says "and your brother too?" It makes me think that Valeria joined the army to prove that she had the same value as her older brothers (to prove to her mother that she was capable too)

I imagine her brothers being strong, big and courageous lieutenants, she could be close to one of the two, while she didn't even make a point of saying good morning to the other.

that's it for now ♡

#valeria cod #valeria garza #valeria garza cod #valeria garza x reader #valeria mw2 #valeria x reader #cod x reader #el sin nombre #headcanons #lesbian

[gh0stsp1d3r]

hi hi!! im in love w ur writing, and ur ‘alright’ fic was so good omg.. after reading it i just had to request something

i was thinking abt hobie with a gf that has a symbiote (like venom). like like maybe her hiding it from him?? either bc she’s scared of his reaction or scared of herself.. if that makes sense. probably an angst to fluff, but im down for anything tbh!!

Different

Warnings- Angsty, fluffy, fem! Reader, this is long I got carried away, not too angsty but I tried ):

If you’ve watched fantastic mr fox, that is what I based some of this off of. If you haven’t go watch it omg it’s so good

“What the hell are you?” You asked, panicked as you looked at whatever it was. The purple and dark pink sludge looking back at you, razor sharp teeth and small narrow eyes pointed at you.

“I am agony.”

“Oh great. What a great name. No, I mean what the hell are you? Like some sort of sludge toxic thingie?” You tried to get away from it, but you didn’t realize it was connected to you.

“I’m from another planet. You are my host. We are bonded.” Her voice was raspy, and sharp. She spat every word laced with venom:

“The fuck I am-“

The purple and pink sludge started to overtake your body, you helped in shock, trying to get it off. But soon, you were confused as your limbs weren’t yours, and you started to jump around. You were inside of the alien, or was the alien now you? You had no clue.

“What the hell..! Let me out!” You shouted.

“I’m hungry.” The alien snarled, and continued its adventure. It turned to a corner, jumping quickly and fast to an alley.

“What the hell is that!” One man shouted, and you heard the cries of multiple others. One man whimpered as the alien neared closer to him, he was backed up on a wall. Agony picked the man up, and bit his head clean off. You gasped and panicked inside.

Police sirens blared, the alien snapped its head back as it feasted on the brains of the man. Agony quickly realized what was happening, and started to run up a wall, and running far far away.

———————————————————

That’s how it had started. You and agony since then have established rules, no coming out near Hobie or anyone else, but especially Hobie. And no more biting peoples heads off, she liked chocolate now, along with some other meats.

Hobie and you have been dating for a year now, and you’ve only been with Agony for about a month. You didn’t wanna ruin the relationship because of it.

You had been on the down low for a little bit now, trying to find out what it all meant, and trying to figure out if there was others like you.

“So, we still up for that date tonight? (:” Hobie texted you, you picked up your phone and texted back. “Yeah, of course. Love you see you then (;”

“𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕...?“ Agony asked from beside you as she read your text message.

“What? That?” You pointed to the (; that you sent Hobie.

“𝒀𝒆𝒔.“

“It’s a winking face. Y’Know…” you winked.

She gave you a weird look.

“𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓.. 𝑪𝒂𝒏 𝒊 𝒈𝒐 𝒆𝒂𝒕 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒑𝒆𝒐𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒘? 𝑰𝒎 𝒕𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆.“

“No. I’ve already told you, Hobies a superhero, and if you get caught eating people I’m gonna get in trouble for it. And he’s still out looking for you. So no.”

You were scared to tell Hobie. Terrified. Especially since he was a superhero. Hobie seriously loved you, and you loved him, and you didn’t wanna ruin it.

——————————————————————-

You knocked on Hobies door, He opened it quickly with a smile.

“Hi.” You walked in.

“Hi, love.” He kissed you. “Been a while, sorry that I couldn’t see you or nothin’. Been busy.”

“Nah, it’s fine. Being spider man is probably busy.”

“Yeah.” He laughed as you sat down on the couch.

“So, how’s work and stuff..?” He asked you.

“Pretty good.”

“That’s nice.”

“How’s being spiderman?”

“It’s… a lot. Still got no luck with that weird alien creature.” He chuckled, sitting down next to you, putting his guitar down. He put his arm around your shoulder as you both caught up. He then put on a movie.

You heard agony say “𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒗𝒊𝒆𝒔.“ in your head but you ignored her.

Hobie got up and made some popcorn, and fetched you both beers.

He then sat back down, you both made yourselves comfortable against each other, and watched the movie with the bowl of popcorn in between.

You suddenly felt lightheaded. You went into the bathroom for a second.

“What is it Agony?” You said annoyed, shutting the door.

“𝑰’𝒎 𝒉𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒓𝒚.“

“I’m literally eating right now-“

“𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒎 𝒉𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒓𝒚 𝒇𝒐𝒓.“

“For the last fucking time, no.”

“𝑰𝒇 𝒊 𝒅𝒐𝒏𝒕 𝒆𝒂𝒕 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑰 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒃𝒐𝒕𝒉 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒅𝒊𝒆 𝒂 𝒔𝒍𝒐𝒘, 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆, 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉.“

Hobie listened in on the conversation, who were you talking to? He didn’t mean to be creepy but he heard you and got curious.

When he heard that sentence, it sounded like a threat he opened the door. And was met with something he didn’t expect.

The alien and you looked at him.

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“The hell?”

“Look, I can explain. She’s like a.. a parasite or something-“

The alien scoffed and looked at her “𝑰𝒎 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒂 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆, 𝒃𝒖𝒈!“

“Okay, sorry, she’s basically… an alien.. and you know, we’re kinda like bonded together, I can’t get rid of her or we both die.”

“Did you kill that guy?” He questioned in disbelief.

“She did, I had no part in it I swear. Hobie.. I love you, you gotta believe me-“

He stayed silent for a moment.

“Why didn’t you jus’.. tell me..?”

“Because.. I was scared you would see my different, I mean I am different but.. I’m still the same me, I didn’t want you to hate me..” you said truthfully, voice breaking at the end of the sentence.

“Well, I could never hate you. I love you, alright? Nothing, not even this… alien can change that. You may be different, but I’ll still love you.” He shrugged.

“And honestly, if anything this just makes you more hot. I looked into the guy that… what’s ya name?” He looked to agony.

“Agony.”

“Right, well then Agony, I looked into the guys who’s head you ate off, turns out the bloke was a pedo.” He said.

“Really?” You asked.

“He gave me that vibe.” Agony said, looking at you.

“Yeah, but the systems fucked so they let him out. Think we could make a great team.” He smirked, and leaned against the doorway.

“Seriously?” You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Yeah. I mean, Agony can eat peoples heads off, and that’s real Justice, I mean.. the system ain’t helpin’ no one.”

“𝑰 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒉𝒊𝒎.“ Agony said.

“I know you do, I can literally hear your thoughts.”

“So, you’re not mad?” You asked when you and Hobie sat back down on the couch.

“Nah, I could never be mad at you.” He kissed your cheek and smirked.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“I get it. I didn’t tell you I was spiderman, you-“

“I found you making a web hammock in your room wearing nothing but your mask and spider man boxers.” You laughed at the memory.

“Yeah, yeah, alright.” He threw popcorn at you and laughed with you.

———-

could you guys tell I actually tried on this one? 😭 LMFAOO I love this tho

Tag list: @enviinotes @rayis-psychotic @korizzybee @animechick555 @stupid-ninja @rreasonablydumbb @xxqueen-of-horrorxx @spidypunkk @criodzasn @techta @1eonk @chipstermation6 @whosace16 @ @l-pandamatic-l

@spider-phoenix @zebralover @my-melo-gf @wiz-te-ria @tzuyuzzs @luvsaluv @mxkn

@deputy-videogamer @666kpopfan @jared-oranges @likelilac @jjkclub

@kitty-kei @blaxk-widow @hoesindifferentshows @lavsluvsu @lampylamperson @artsykerfuffleplus @notbluees @sp0kyzz @arlipooh @freeingrebels @ken-zah h @blustalker @cursedbitchboy @romanoffswoman

@chaoticevilbakugo

#hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #spider punk #spider punk x reader

[lacey1irl]

♡ ALICE X GN! READER ♡

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚Alice x Gn!Bubbly!Reader˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

SUMMARY: Alice spared your life and is slowly getting used to you <3 (can be seen as platonic or romantic)

(I LOVE HER SM; also I am aware that this doesn't scream “BUBBLY READER” but it is how all met so of course you aren't going to be bubbly when you are about to die)

DIALOG DETAILS:

None today. . . Editing is a pain in my ass maybe next time!!!

Warnings: Angsty-ish (Mostly on Alice’s part), Fluff(at the end), Blood (Reader got a small cut on their cheek), Mentions of Claire's death (In the 3rd person part), I sort of project myself into Alice in her POV, Enemies to ??? (IMK IF I MISSED ANYTHING!!!!!!)

This fic is based on the song: ‘ARE WE STILL FREINDS’ by Tyler the Creator and ‘Red Tears’ by The Johns

ENJOY!!

You had failed your Math test and were running from Miss Circle when you saw a door that said ‘EXIT’. . . Without thinking you entered the room and were led into a dark room. . .

This wasn’t the exit, it was Alice’s room, you hear low growling from a dark corner. Then suddenly a raspy feminine voice begins to say “What are you doing here, in my room” You felt a chill run up your spine, you felt frozen, couldn’t speak or move. . . Is this how you die? You haven't lived life…Haven't had a first love, Gotten a scholarship, Gone to college, Felt Heartbreak, or even had your first kiss. . . Is this how you will die?

The voice spoke again with a much more aggressive tone “I said. WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE”. This time she didn’t wait for a response instead a large razor-sharp spike sprouted from the ground, knocking you over, and you felt blood trickle down your left cheek….

Your life flashed in front of your eyes.There Alice was in front of you, in all her terrifying glory….There are rumors that she tears people apart limb from limb and eats them, or that she is such a monster that even the devil himself fears her, there's many rumors…What isn't helping her case is what she did to Claire, the poor girl was torn apart and some of her organs were gone…That only made everyone think “This is Alice’s world, we are only living in it” and it was true this isn't our world or our life…Life is carefree but with Alice’s presence known, Life is anything but carefree….

Her claws protracted and she stared with glowing red eyes… you were terrified, all you could do was sit there and accept it, you closed your eyes expecting to be slashed by Alice’s claws, but Alice didn't kill you, instead, she stared down at you with sympathy in her eyes. “Get up” She helps you up, you're still terrified..but thankful, thankful for the fact she spared your life… “why did you spare me?” your voice was shaky and quiet, nothing like your usual self…

(ALICE’S POV)

I dont know why I spared them, the fear in their eyes, the fact that they didn't fight back…its probably just pity, but their face, the terror, the utter fear of dying young…I dont know why I spared them, it should have been easy for me to kill them but their face made me think of the past when I was sweet, but this cruel world turned me bitter….I see my reflection in their eyes, I just could have killed such an innocent soul as theirs, in cold blood…I can’t, I just can’t…

“I- I dont know why…I just couldn’t” I looked into their eyes, and all I could see was fear but an underlining of gratitude…Looking into their eyes was like looking into a mirror showing the same soul different body…I brush a stray strand of hair out of their face, I reach into my pocket for a bandaid and put it on their cut…”There much better, are you okay?” they were still shaking and still terrified but they responded regardless

“I am fine, just a little shaken up”“I think it's best you rest for a bit” I try to make my voice sound soothing even though I haven’t had human interaction in a while…After sitting them down, I sit next to them…I dont know why but I wanted to get to know them… “What's your name?” they responded hesitantly but I can't blame them for that, their attacker was trying to know them…It's weird, but regardless they responded. “My name is [Name]...”

(YOUR POV) It felt weird to see Alice so nice and calm, she noticed I was shaking still, and she suddenly pulled me into a hug…It's unexpected but not unwelcomed, she smelled nice like rose petals and jasmine tea. I started to calm down, she patted my hair softly….I started to fall asleep which Alice quickly noticed because of the sudden weight change…. “Goodnight, [name]. . .Sweet Dreams”

(RAHHHHHHHHHH I LOBE THIS!!!)

#fpe #fundamental paper education #fanfic #fandom #Alice fpe #Fpe x reader

[merakiui]

RAHHH WAIT WHILE WE R ON THE TOPICS OF PERIOD SEX. CAN WE TAKE A MOMENT TO TALK ABOUT WHICH GENSHIN GUYS WOULD EAT OUT/FUCK DURING A PERIOD?

AAAAAAA OMG YES........ under the cut because I rambled a lot. ;;;;

The most obvious one who would do it in a heartbeat is Childe. He loves the sight and smell of blood, and the fact that it's coming from between your legs is even better. He'll have you crying out while he spends so much time between your legs, all too eager to taste you and listen to you fall apart on his tongue and fingers. He'll fuck you while you're on your period as well. He loves the way your blood stains his dick when he's thrusting in and out. Playfully cooing at you when you beg him to ease up because it's too much: "Aww, can't handle it? That's too bad... down here seems just fine. You're taking it like it's nothing." <3

This is my own personal bias seeping through, but I wholeheartedly believe Scaramouche/Wanderer would adore period sex. I think Scara enjoys fucking you while you're on your period, whereas Wanderer enjoys eating you out just a bit more. There's this whole power/control thing Scara wants to have over you, so he's probably not getting on his knees for you anytime soon. But he will fuck you for as long as he wants, teasing you the entire time. Having your blood on him is all too exciting. As for Wanderer, he'll pretend like it's a tall order, playfully scoffing at you and saying something like, "What would you do without me? You'd be helpless, wouldn't you?" But if you even suggest that someone else do this for you, he's quickly putting that smart mouth of his to work. Try saying that again through all of your moans. :)

ALBEDO OMG........ it's all for "scientific research" because he's curious and would like to know how the human body operates in more detail. Really, this is his own nerdy cover. He just wants to taste you and feel you, blood and all. orz of course he probably collects samples because there's this clinical side to him that wants to know you down to the alchemical level. ;;;;; he spends way too much time stuffing his fingers inside you and stretching you open, curiously observing the blood that coats his digits and making note of all of your reactions.

Razor....... this one is also obvious. He smells blood and assumes you're hurt, so his first instinct is to either patch you up or lick it better. The latter comes into use when he pins you down and spreads your legs to get a closer look at your pussy. Razor's a bit inexperienced and sloppy, roughly gripping onto your thighs, but he means well. He has to keep his mate safe and content, after all!

Xiao........ XIAO!!!!!!!! He's so determined to protect you. He's very accustomed with the scent of blood, so it doesn't take long for him to smell it on your person. Xiao's a little stern when he tells you to stop moving so he can check you for injuries, but he's sincere. Why do you seem so casual? Aren't you hurt????? He cannot fathom the concept of a period because he's never known about such a thing. He's about as virgin as they come. ^^;;;; but he'll do anything to ensure you're happy, forever and always, and so even though he may not know what he's doing at first he'll eventually fall into the rhythm. Karmic debt is cold and cruel, but pussy is warm and soft. <3

I feel like Kazuha would be into it........ he's so sweet about it, too. T^T maybe you're embarrassed to have leaked on the sheets while sleeping beside him, but he assures you it's fine. Things happen. Besides, there's nothing to be ashamed of. It's normal. He'll make you feel so much better about it, and soon you're falling apart on his fingers or mouth. He praises you all throughout it.

Gorou!!!!! This is also a Razor situation. He probably prefers eating you out more than he does fucking you, but the latter is also quite good. He's really such a sweetheart and he gets pussy-drunk SO FAST. OTL even more so when you're on your period.......

Itto!!! >:D truthfully, what won't Itto do? He'll do just about anything for his pal, best bud, partner, lover (you're all of these things to him hehe). He adores you omg. You only need to tell him that it hurts and he's ready to provide, whether that be by eating you out until your cramps are soothed or by fucking into you (he'll be slow and gentle; he promises!). Anything for you. <3

This may be unexpected (or not) but Ayato. I think he just likes the idea of staining those pristine clothes of his in your red. Or ruining white sheets...... there's something very thrilling about it. Also, you're just so sensitive whenever you're on your period and your libido has you begging him for even more.

Definitely Tighnari. He could just mix up something to help soothe your cramps, but why would he do that when he could indulge instead? Besides, this method works very well and you seem to enjoy it just as much as he does. Why would he ever trade that?

Cyno......... I can't explain it, but I feel like he would enjoy period sex... there's something so addictive about sinking into your wet warmth and getting blood on his cock while you dig your nails into his shoulders and rake his back bloody. >:D

Baizhu. Something something doctor's orders!!! Prescription to soothe cramps is not a calming herbal tea but the doctor working you open on his fingers or fucking into you sweetly and slowly!!!!!

Omg,,, speaking of doctors, how could I forget the man himself!!!! Dottore is a creature. He loves period sex. Perhaps some of his clones love it more than others. It's easy to tell depending on who's fucking you or eating you out. He has this deranged sort of smile as he watches you come undone.

PANTALONE.......... I just know he loves getting your blood all over his face and fingers and on his clothes. He's a big fan of simply cockwarming you while you're on your period and only getting you to orgasm by clitoral stimulation. AAAAAAA OTL

Wriothesley can and will spend his entire afternoon between your legs. He doesn't mind the mess. It doesn't bother him. Rather, he's busying himself working you towards your nth orgasm for the day. If you come to Wrio with a problem, you better be ready for him to solve it. He'll make sure you won't be feeling any cramps for the rest of the day after he's done with you.

Another personal bias, but I like to imagine Lyney also enjoys period sex. Maybe even Freminet, but he's too shy to ask you if you'd be okay with it...... >_< AAAA but Lyney!!!!! He reminds me of this audio. T_T Lyney sniffing out your period........ you seem to have cramps and that's no good. Allow him to ease them and this time there's no magic required hehe.

Another bias, but my beloved Gaming!!!!!! I think period sex with him is always a sweet activity. He's so gentle and caring,,,, so focused on making sure you feel good and that you'll have enough orgasms to get rid of the cramps. And of course he has plenty of snacks on standby for when you want to snack during breaks. Leave it all to him! You won't have to lift a finger. Just lie back against the cushions and let him make you feel good.

OH OH!!!! Capitano.......... I've seen some portray him with a long monster tongue and methinks that is very delicious and so true!!!!! Capitano using that long tongue of his to eat you out, and it can reach places that your fingers just can't and and and AAAAAAAA!!!!!

#genshin chit chat #n/sfw #tw: periods #tw: period sex #zhongli and neuvillette are probably also avid period sex enjoyers but i unfortunately have no thoughts for those ojiisans #aaaa please forgive me orz #wait actually neuvi thoughts... he would do it in a heartbeat #he's so gentle!!! service dom........... but also he becomes pussy-drunk so easily

[roxy-writes]

GIRLY DO MAFIA BAKUGOU AND KIRISHIMA X READ AND MAKE IT SMUTTY!!!!!! It's fine if you don't want to😅 BUT IF YOU CAN THAT WOULD BE GREATTTTT!!! LOVE YOU BESTIEEEEEEE 🥰

OK IM DOING IT. also i've lowkey been putting off my asks so if i haven't responded i'll get there soon lol <3 sorry

warnings: not proofread, smut, reader sits on bakugo's lap, reader uses she/her pronouns, reader has a pussy, extreme dubcon, biting, reader gets spanked, noncon creampies, reader cries, dead dove: do not eat

You sat tied to a chair in Katsuki Bakugo's office. You didn't know a lot about what was happening, just that he was a fairly well-known mafia boss and this was very very bad for you. He sat in a comfortable looking chair on the other side of his desk, his right hand man standing tall beside him. Kirishima Eijiro, who appeared way less threatening than his counterpart. But you figured he's probably just as bad as Bakugo, if not worse. You knew pretty much why you were here.

You were taking a walk somewhere, you can't remember where. The alleyway you saw was a nice shortcut, sure, but you probably should've just gone the long way. You didn't really expect to see someone being brutally murdered when you turned the corner, of course. As Bakugo turned to face you, the unknown body slumped to the ground at his feet. You sprinted away in the opposite direction, but you weren't fast enough, and that's how you ended up here.

"I was going to just kill you, but my partner here convinced me otherwise. How lucky you are. Well, I don't really know about that. You'll probably think you're better off dead once we're done with you." Bakugo says. You wonder what the fuck that might mean. "We obviously can't let you go though. You'll have to be of use to us in some other way." You're pretty sure you know what that means, based on Kirishima's hungry look. "Untie her," Bakugo commands, "not like she'll be able to escape." Kirishima moves to follow Bakugo's orders and only then do you notice his teeth. They're razor sharp, and they look dangerous. You figure things can't get any worse from here.

But of course they do. Bakugo makes you sit on his lap, the bump that you feel from under his nice dress pants rubbing against your thigh. He's changed since you first saw him, thank God, so there's no blood on him. You're frozen in place, his hands planted on your ass. There was no denying he was attractive, but this was not a situation you wanted to be in. "Kirishima, what do you say we get he used to how it's gonna be here?" Bakugo says, and fear rushes through your body. You're bent over the table in seconds, your dress being torn off your body. You want to struggle, but you know it won't do anything except anger him. He rips off your bra and panties, and your nipples harden at the cold. He beckons Kirishima over, and the red-haired man crouches down so he's face-to-face with your cunt. You're scared of those teeth being so close to your pussy, but Bakugo keeps you from being able to tilt your head to look at Kirishima. Kirishima's first long lick up your slit has you holding back a moan. "Make some noise, bitch." Bakugo spits, so you stop holding back as Kirishima sucks on your clit.

His tongue enters your hole, making you clench and keen. You're nearly forgetting about what's really happening and starting to focus only on how he's tongue-fucking you. Then his tongue's gone and his teeth are sinking into your thigh. You cry out in pain and squirm, which only seems to egg Kirishima on as he marks your thighs up. One of his big fingers slips inside of you and curls, pressing against your special spot. You cum with a cry as Kirishima licks up the blood dripping down your legs. Fuck, it aches. You hate to admit you're sort of turned on by it, but it still fucking hurts. Bakugo's already pressing his dick to your entrance and pushing in. You're still sensitive and you moan. He's bigger than you thought he would be, but he doesn't give you any time to adjust to the stretch as you expected. He immediately begins pounding into you. He shakes the desk with every thrust, and the edge of it digs into your hips.

Bakugo slams into your cervix. You make a noise of discomfort, and he raises his hand. He brings it down hard on your ass, the sting making tears form in your eyes. He does it again on your other asscheek, and you try not to make too loud of a noise in fear of what he'll do. You just whimper quietly as he fucks you. He's gonna cum soon, you can tell by how much he's twitching inside you. Oh shit, you think, he can't cum inside. You're not on birth control, oh shit, oh fuck, you think. He's definitely not wearing a condom. "No, fuck, don't cum inside, please!" you yell, but he just spanks you again. You feel hot ropes of cum coat your walls and tears stream down your face. You can almost feel him smirk. Kirishima shoots you a sympathetic look from where he was watching. You press your face into the desk and sob.

this is my 100th post lol

#kirishima x reader #kirishima smut #katsuki smut #bakugo x reader smut #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo smut #bnha smut #bnha x reader #bnha x reader smut #mha smut #mha x reader #mha x reader smut #mafia au #dead dove do not eat

[chickenparm]

Tiny Little Teeth (cat!Scara/f!Reader) Pt 1

it's a rite of passage for anyone that writes for scara to at least do ONE scarameow fic. anyway, 3 chapters for sure on this one, maybe a 4th if i feel like party rockin.

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AO3 LINK Next Part

cat(boy)!Scaramouche/f!Reader - Reader is Traveler 2,628 Words - SFW (future NSFW) (no warnings this chapter - smut tags on AO3)

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“Traveler, pleeeeease?”

Paimon struggles to float under the weight of the kitten, her arms wrapped around his torso as he wiggles and wiggles and wiggles and hisses. You watch for a moment how his little teeth are bared, the pupils of his eyes wide enough that only the thinnest purple iris is visible as he glares at you. Can a cat glare?

This one is. You think you like him. 

“Alright, fine. But he’ll have to stay in the teapot, he’s just too little to travel around with us now.”

At the sound of your agreement, he starts writhing even more, and you reach out to take the kitten from Paimon to keep her from sinking like a rock. Holding him by the scruff, you lift the cat to look him over - ink-colored fur, pretty violet eyes with strange markings around them, the whitest feet and ears you’ve ever seen… 

“You’re a cute thing, aren’t you? What should we name you…” You use your other hand to support under his back legs, holding him closer to your chest as you release his scruff and instead run those fingers down the raised hair along his spine. “Angry little thing. Kinda reminds me of…”

“That’s what I thought! So grumpy!” 

Paimon already agrees before you get the name out, and the two of you giggle amongst yourselves. Ducking your chin to look at him, he stares up at you with a vicious little hiss, just before you say, “Oh, if he finds out he’ll be so mad. Let’s do it. You’re my little Scarameow now.”

Razor-sharp tiny claws sink into your skin at his visceral reaction to the name, teeth bared as his face scrunches up in rage. But it’s not frightening - only cute enough to make you coo and bend to press a kiss right on that angry little forehead. “C’mon, let’s get you home. Paimon, can you watch the teapot for a while? Maybe take it to Nilou for safekeeping?”

“Can do! Oh, can you use the kamera and take a picture if he does anything cute? Paimon wants to see!”

The kitten grumbles, and taking a little pity on him, you falsely make the promise to her and withdraw the teapot from your inventory to head home for a little while. Paimon’s voice trails off with her goodbye as your navel is pulled, and the world shifts from one reality to another, leaving you in a field of wildflowers that wave gently in the breeze. 

The kitten goes slack in your arms, the whipping of his little tail petering out as his furry head turns left and right, taking in the sights of the field, the smattering of buildings not so far in the distance, and the backdrop of other landforms beyond it. Even if he probably can’t understand you, you still can’t help pride from filtering in your voice as you begin your walk to the main house and explain. 

“This is my home. Well, our home, now. You’ll be comfortable, safe, and warm. Nothing bad will ever happen to you here. You must’ve been awfully scared, being all alone like that.” You say, unaware of how the kitten’s head tilts up to look at you. “What sort of food do cute little kitties eat, anyway? Fish?”

Of course, he doesn’t answer, but he does prickle a bit when you refer to him as cute and little, like he isn’t aware of how small he is. Or how soft his tummy is on your forearm. Somehow, you feel like he’d be mortified if he knew just how much you wanted to put your face in his fur and blow raspberries. 

You’d probably lose an eye, you think. 

Stepping into the home and shutting it behind you, you don’t bother to lock it as you call out, “Tubby! You home?”

“I am always home, Traveler.” The bird sparkles into existence, the kitten’s fur stands on end as those little claws sink in again. Dipping your head, you shush him and scratch behind one of his tiny little triangle ears, but it doesn’t do much. It almost makes him madder. Narrow red lines well up on your arm from where he’s been scratching and biting you. Tubby waits patiently for the exchange to finish before asking, “Is this a new resident?”

“Yes! This is Scarameow, he’s going to stay here for a while. Do you think you can sift through the storage and see if there’s any furniture that will be good for him?”

“Miss Diona did pass along some of the furniture blueprints they use at the Cat’s Tail when they need to replace something too clawed-up…”

“Perfect!” You agree, holding the kitten awkwardly as you start to kick off your boots. Tubby doesn’t like it when you track dirt into the house, and you’re not feeling up to suffering passive-aggressive comments about your cleanliness today. Tubby flickers off, and you’re once more left with a kitty that’s wiggling desperately to be let free. 

Not just yet, though. You wander into what serves as the living area, a few couches near a fireplace that’s already lit. You grab a throw blanket and bundle it up on the couch, then carefully set him there. “That’ll have to do for now. I’m going to go and see what I can find you for food. I bet you’re hungry.”

Purple eyes look up at you, unimpressed. Your face twists in minor annoyance, “C’mon, I’m doing the best I can. If I expected to get a kitten today, I’d have prepared a little better. Maybe you should work on your timing.”

The kitten meows, a loud thing that can’t hold the weight of his own annoyance at you. Planting your hands on your hips, you bend a little and say, “‘Meow’ to you, too. Y’know, if you want to be menacing, you’ll have to work on not being so cute. If you keep being grumpy, I’m going to get your belly and it’s going to be very embarrassing.”

Another meow, teeth bared like needles, fur starting to raise on his tail. In fact, he stands, his back arching and the rest of him puffing up as if to look bigger, scarier. And you only laugh, reaching out with a palm and pushing him over into the blankets. “Cute little thing. Scarameow is a good name, you really do remind me of the Balladeer… uh, Wanderer, I mean. Don’t tell him I messed the name up, I’m still getting used to it.”

The cat pauses in getting up, head tilting as if curious. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to vent to him a little, he is just a kitten. It’s not like he can tell anyone unless he suddenly learns to talk like Neko. Standing straight, you let your arms fall to the side with a sigh, “It’s weird, he and I are the only people that actually remember what happened before. He’s kind of a jerk, but… I’d hoped that maybe, if anything, he’d be willing to let me… oh, I don’t know. Be his friend?”

Settling on the couch, you abandon the idea of food for now. The kitten doesn’t seem interested anyway. But he does settle down to sit on the blankets and seems to be listening intently to what you’re dumping out on him, even if he doesn’t understand. Leaning back against the couch, then letting your head roll to look at the ceiling, you continue, “I want to talk to him, but honestly, I’m not sure how to do it without him assuming I’m just taking pity on him for it all. I’m not, really, but he just seems kinda… lonely?”

No answer from the kitten. Maybe he’s fallen asleep already, maybe he’s not listening at all. 

“Despite everything, I kind of get it. Y’know, after everything he’s been through, I’d probably be the same way. So I can’t really fault him for a lot of it. Well, maybe I can, just a little. But people can change, and it seems like he’s putting in some effort.” Your hand reaches out to the blankets, searching for the kitten to try and pet him absently, but your hand comes up empty. 

Lifting your head, the blankets are empty, but in the space between your lap and the makeshift bed, the kitten is frozen mid-step, like he’d been sneaking closer. It looks up at you, and you look back, and carefully you turn your gaze back up to the ceiling. Maybe if you don’t give him so much attention, he’ll be a little more accepting of it all. 

And the idea strikes you enough that you speak it into the world, “Maybe that’s the key. I’ll give him some space, just make it known that I’m willing to accept him and then back off. If I come on too strong, he’ll just get annoyed.”

There’s a pressure on your thigh of a small paw pushing in, then the opposite, and as you covertly look down, you can see he’s making biscuits on your lap. Not quite sitting on you, just off to the side, but it’s a start and you can’t help the giddy smile on your face. Biting your tongue, you don’t draw attention to it and instead bring one hand to curl around his back where he sits next to you, a warm presence against your palm. 

“Do you think that’ll work? Ah, you’ve never met him, how would you know. I bet you’d get along, though. Two angry little guys.”

Claws poke against your leg in a warning, and you laugh a little as you finally lift your head and look down at him. “Alright, alright. Hm… y’know, I have an idea. If I promise not to get your tummy, will you put up with me doing something else less demeaning?”

A head tilt, a cautious ask of what you’re planning before he accepts anything. You guide him away from the copious amount of biscuits he’s been making and settle him in the blankets again before getting up. “I’ll be back, just going to go to the workbench for a bit and make something. If you hate it, you don’t have to ever look at it again, but I think it’d be… cute.”

Scarameow growls, looks at you unsure, but you’re already walking away and leaving him alone in your home. Before leaving the room, you look at him over your shoulder. He’s sitting where you left him, looking suddenly very small, and a little coo leaves you that makes him bristle and stand, back arched once more. 

Your laughter is what remains in the room with him as you leave. 

The kitten waits while standing, then sits down to wait more. Then he lays, curled in a tight ball, eyes watching the doorway that you left through. The fireplace crackles nearby, lulling him into a calmness that makes him relax a little. Eyes drooping, he watches with disinterest as that weird little bird appears in the room, floating around and materializing what looks to be furniture suited for a cat. 

A little tower with multiple levels, a wooden bowl-shaped bed filled with soft pillows, a box with a paw print on it filled with unknown contents. Then, the bird moves to the window and opens the curtains, letting the sunshine in. Suddenly, the kitten perks up a little, getting to his feet and streeeetching before all but tumbling from the couch. Annoyed at himself, he wanders over to the window. 

There’s just enough of a ledge that he can sit up there, so he backs up and lowers himself, rear end wiggling a little before launching up. Still unpracticed, his claws catch on the edge as he undershoots the distance and has to scrabble on the rest of the way. Looking over the edge, he sees a few marks left in the wood, and his chest puffs up a bit. Good, serves you right.

Outside the window is that same view he was greeted with on arrival. Wildflowers fill the field, waving in unison as each breeze wafts over. His eyes follow the patterns as he lowers himself and tucks his limbs in, then his tail around himself. You said he’d be comfortable, happy, safe. He’s heard it often enough, but when was the last time he felt it?

Mildly disgruntled, he realizes he’s feeling it now. 

He’s not sure how long he looks out the window, feeling the sun warm his fur as it moves across the sky. But his ears twitch, your footsteps returning, and he doesn’t have time to get up before you enter the room and coo, “Oh, you’re loafed up. How adorable!”

You clasp your hands around something, then tuck your hands beneath your chin at the sight of him looking so comfortable in the window. You don’t miss the scratches left from his journey up there, but you don’t really mind. It’s not like he did it on purpose, and it’s an easy fix. 

Wary eyes watch as you approach and kneel at the window to be on an even level with him. With a little smile, you reassure him once more, “I made you something. If you really don’t like it, you don’t have to wear it, but you really do remind me of him, so…”

You set the little object down in front of him. A bright red cord of expert make, looped into a necklace and tied with a red bow around a little white puff ball. And on the end a golden ornament lacking the depth of detail of the original, but still a good enough mimicry that you feel proud of it. The kitten stares and stares, almost as if his eyes are unseeing. Patiently, you wait, considering he hasn’t batted it away like you initially expected. 

And then, one of those soft white paws untuck from beneath his body to reach out and paw at it, tugging it closer. A quiet acceptance that’s solidified by how he doesn’t fight you when you carefully settle it over his head and around his neck, ensuring it isn’t too loose or too tight. “There, you could get it back off if you wanted, but…”

And then, with a little laugh, you fold your arms on the window ledge and prop your chin on them to look at him with a pleased smile, one that’s absolutely fond. “Anyway, don’t let him see you wearing that. He’d probably blow a blood vessel seeing you wearing it and having that name. Ugh, he’d probably think I want to keep him as a pet.”

The kitten looks at you unamused, one paw still resting out, claws starting to flex in a quiet warning. All you can do is grin, scrunching your nose at him, “And then I’d have to explain that I did it because I’m already fond of him. Is that weird? I’ve known of him for a long time, and we’ve been enemies for almost the entirety of it. One soul-searching journey and now I’m fond? I must be crazy.”

The kitten nods. A delighted laugh leaves you and you reach with one hand toward him, your cheek resting on your other arm. To your surprise, he doesn’t bat you away as your fingers start to scratch beneath his ear, but he doesn’t seem entirely pleased, either. 

“I think it’s been a long, long time since anyone was fond of Wanderer. After all he’s been through, don’t you think he deserves a little softness, now?”

The kitten doesn’t say anything, but if you hold your breath and stay very still, you swear you can hear a quiet little rumbling coming from him as his eyes start to droop closed. 

#scaramouche #wanderer #genshin impact #genshin #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #reader-insert #x reader #f!reader #female reader #afab!reader #scarameow #mdni #nsft

[death-himself]

Masochism and Cannibalism

I've had this idea in my head for ages but I don't have any OCs that fit it, so I decided fuck it and wrote my first ever x reader fic

Summary: You are a proxy in Slenderman's forest, and want to help out your friend Jack a bit by having him eat you. In the process, Jack finds out you're a huge masochist. (gender-neutral proxy!masochist!reader) Relationship between Jack and reader is up for interpretation, could be friends-with-benefits, could be romantic, could be platonic idk

Content Warnings: masochism, cannibalism, graphic depiction of violence/gore, implication of religious trauma at the very beginning, vaguely NSFW? it doesn't feel sexual to me but it also kinda is but not really

Word Count: 1,760

You knew that Jack hated killing people. He hated what he had been forced to become. One night you had forgotten your jacket in his cabin, and had crept back in to grab it, only to find him kneeling by his bed, praying in a rapid whisper to a god he didn’t even believe in, the knuckles of his hands pressed into his forehead.

From that point on you had become the only one in the Slenderman’s forest to know of his turmoil. While you certainly weren’t one for empathy, considering the requirements of your job, you had always felt for Jack. The closer you got to him, the more you longed to take away his pain.

And then you came up with the perfect plan.

You knocked on the door of Jack’s cabin, hearing his quiet footsteps approach, pause on the other side, then open the door.

“Hello Y/N. Do you need something?” Jack spoke, his voice as steady as ever. You nodded, letting yourself in and sitting at his dining table.

“I’d like to make...an arrangement with you.” Jack’s head tilted to the side slightly; with his mask on it was the only sign of his confusion.

“What kind of arrangement?” He spoke slowly, giving you plenty of time to plan out your next words carefully.

“Well, I’m a proxy. I can’t die, and any injuries I get will heal in a couple hours, right?” Jack nodded, having fully studied every bit of proxy biology since entering the forest. “So...thoughts on eating me?”

“No.” He answered instantly, turning his back to you and stepping into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee.

“What’s the harm in it?”

“There is quite literally nothing but harm in it, Y/N. I’m not eating you.”

“I’m giving you full consent and everything!”

Jack poured two cups of coffee, handing one off to you. “Y/N, there is no reason behind this arrangement. I am...perfectly fine with how I am operating now.” Though it was subtle, you heard the slight tremor in his voice. He cleared his throat and sat across the table from you, avoiding looking in your direction.

You stared down into your coffee cup. “Can we at least try it?” Jack looked up and stared at you for a long time.

“Why are you so insistent on this?”

“I just...wanna help a friend.”

“You are suggesting that I kill you and eat your organs.” He stated bluntly. “Y/N, I appreciate the offer, I do. I just…” Jack paused, mulling over the words in his head for a moment. “It could not be a permanent arrangement. It would simply be too much, I would never be able to repay you.”

“What would you be repaying me for?” You spoke before thinking, not realizing how weird you probably sounded. Jack stared at you fully aware of how weird your question was.

“I would be repaying you for the amount of pain I would be inflicting on you.”

“Right. That.”

“Not to mention I have a limited supply of strong anesthetics. I could use them on you once, but the rest I would prefer to use for patients in need of surgery, not to fulfill my own needs.”

You watched as he lifted his mask, taking a sip of his coffee. His claws were razor-sharp, the glimpse of his fangs you got were even sharper.

Goddamn, why’d he have to be so moral? If he were like Toby or Jeff or any of the other fuckers in this forest he would’ve jumped at the opportunity. You really wanted to feel those claws tear you open and his teeth bite into your lungs. You wanted to nourish him so badly.

“Can we please try it? You can give me a shoulder massage or something after I heal if that calms your conscience.” You tried your best to keep your tone calm and not desperate or pathetic, but he still seemed a bit confused by your insistence. He stared at you for a long moment, before standing up with a sigh.

“Alright. If you’re sure you want to do this. Let’s go down to my lab, it will make the cleanup easier.” You got up a bit too quickly from your seat, following him downstairs to the white walls and floor of his basement.

It was a small, makeshift hospital room, one that you had been in a few times before when a broken bone was taking an annoyingly long time to heal or a wound was dripping blood and making a mess everywhere. He pulled out a hospital bed with a thin, uncomfortable-looking blue mattress.

“I’ll take out your heart, lungs, and liver, starting with your heart so that you die quickly and won’t have to undergo as much pain. Once I am done, I believe it should take roughly five hours until you fully heal and come back to life.” You hummed in response, trying to hide your disappointment at the thought of dying quickly. He would still have to break your ribcage to do any of that. You wondered if he would suck on your bones. The thought of him chewing on one of your rib bones like a dog was kind of funny to you.

You took off your shirt and lay down on the hospital bed, staring up at the white ceiling. You heard Jack pull a medical cart over to your side, before washing his hands and pulling on some blue gloves.

“You don’t have to treat this like a medical procedure, that’s no fun.” He got close enough to stare down at you again. With his mask off, his confusion was plain across his face, eyesockets wide and brows pulled together. It was cute how expressive he was behind that mask.

“How would you like me to do this?” He seemed to slowly begin to understand what you wanted, looking over your relaxed body for a moment. He hummed. “Well, I suppose...when I am cutting open one of my victims I am usually on top of them.”

“Okay.” You responded simply, turning back to staring at the ceiling. You could feel his gaze on you, trying to judge your reaction. You heard him mumble “This is not what I expected my night to turn into,” before hearing him move, the bed shaking a bit as he climbed up, pinning your legs between his thighs.

As he stared down at you, he wore a look of hesitant acceptance, a hint of a smile on his lips. “You are absolutely sure that you want this?” He asked. You grinned at him and nodded. “Would you like to establish a safe word or—”

“Dude, oh my god, just do it.” His smile widened to the point that you could see his sharp teeth behind his lips. He took a scalpel and made his first incision.

The pain only came after the second cut. As he gently pulled back your skin you bit at your lip, trying to not scream out in pain. A wince left your lips as he examined your ribcage, and you felt his hands pull back for a moment. Your vision was swimming as you watched him pause and study your face, before turning back to your ribs. He laid his palm across them, and he pushed down sharply.

There was a loud CRACK as three ribs broke at once. Your body went limp as you forgot how to breathe. You felt him gently pick up each small fracture of bone, placing them on the medical table. There were pieces of your ribs scattered across your heart and lungs; as you took a shaky breath you felt each piece move up and down. Jack picked up what he could with a steady hand, moving it out of the way with as much respect as he could. You thought he was talking to you, but all you could hear by this point was blood rushing through your ears.

Then when Jack was satisfied with your ribs, you felt his warm hand loosely wrap around your pounding heart. He took his pointer finger and thumb and carefully felt for your aorta, before bringing his scalpel closer. You saw his lips move, and could just barely make out him saying “I’ll see you in a few hours.” You felt a sharp cut across your aorta, then others across your veins, arteries, and vena cavas.

Your brain immediately began to panic as your blood stopped moving through your body. You stared up at Jack as your vision dimmed, seeing him bring your heart up to his lips, taking a large bite, blood dripping from his chin onto your exposed stomach. You managed a final smile at him as the world went dark.

You woke up still on that hospital bed. You ran a weak hand across your chest, feeling tidy stitches going down the center. Jack had cleaned you off, you couldn’t find a single speck of dried blood on you. Your regenerated lungs filled with the sterile air of the hospital room, the air feeling fresh and new despite you being in the basement level.

You sat up, looking around. Jack wasn’t there. There was a twinge of disappointment in your new heart, but you brushed it aside, standing up on shaky legs and making your way to the exit door.

The door creaked as it opened, and a pleasant smell hit your nose: breakfast. You quickly climbed the stairs, finding Jack standing at the stove, cooking some scrambled eggs.

“You eat your fill last night?” Jack nodded, turning to you with a gentle smile.

“How are you feeling?”

“Incredible.” You sat down at the table as Jack finished plating up your breakfast, placing it down before you.

“That’s good to hear. I’ll draw a bath for you, and then if you’d like I can give you that shoulder massage as well.” You had almost forgotten about that, still riding off the high of last night.

“Would you actually be down for that?” You asked.

“Your body is likely sore from the regeneration process.” Your body felt perfectly fine to you, maybe a bit weak but otherwise fine. But if he was offering it, it’s not like you were going to say no.

“Sure, why not? Feels like a bit much, though. I mean, I probably got way more enjoyment out of last night than you did.” Jack shook his head.

“I am more than happy to pamper you for the day.”

#creepypasta #eyeless jack #eyeless jack x reader #x reader #creepypasta fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #feels fitting that my first ever x reader fic is for creepypasta #considering how much i complain about there being too much x reader in this fandom #is it me am i part of the problem #can you tell i don't write x reader or second perspective ever i feel like you can tell #writing x reader is a skill that i don't have and i respect those who have honed that skill #anyway the thought of a relationship between a masochist and a cannibal is so personal to me #there's something so dark and beautiful about a relationship like that and i think about it more than i probably should

[seasaltandcopper]

vampire hunter AU Pt 3

[Prev]

Summary: Teddy takes a moment alone with Mal. She and Will talk on the drive home.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Profanity, (implied) torture, violence, manhandling, dehumanization

The truck’s headlights cut a swath through the darkness, spilling across chalky gravel, stubborn weeds, and jagged chips of concrete. Moths and bugs flit through the light, throwing flickering shadows as they knocked against the bumper of the vehicle, and pinged gently off its hood.

Out in the dark, past the lights of the truck and the old factory, beyond the high, razor-wire topped walls, a pack of coyotes yipped and howled. Crickets and frogs sang their nightly lullabies. Critters screeched.

A nice, mild summer night. Routine. Almost peaceful.

Teddy glanced to the side, giving the vampire another look over as she steered him towards the truck. Mal kept his head down as he stumbled along, every few steps needing her to tighten her grip when he didn’t lift a foot high enough and caught it on the loose gravel, either tripping himself or sending it skittering off into the dark.

It looked like the effort of even walking this far was about to put him on the ground. Or maybe the gravel just hurt his feet.

Boo-fucking-hoo.

When Teddy looked closer though, she noticed the dark red smudges trailing behind him, only visible because the loose rock out here was a dusty, powdery white.

She sighed. Even if this shit was rough to walk on barefoot, it shouldn’t cut him up that bad in such a short distance. Another lingering token of the hunters' hospitality, probably. Teddy briefly wondered if he’d tried to run recently and they’d taken steps to make it a little harder if he got it into his head to try again.

He didn’t look like a flight risk. But Teddy gleaned enough from the past half hour to agree with Brooks’ original assessment: Mal wasn’t broken. Not all the way; not permanently.

Not yet.

Teddy sighed again, face rearranging into something less pensive and more irritable. “Something wrong with your feet?”

Head raising so fast it might’ve been attached to a pull-string, Mal pushed out a sharp breath through his nose. Anyone else, any other context, Teddy would’ve called it amused; she didn't know what to call it with him.

He shook his head, brows pulled together in a deep line. “No,” Mal lied, voice hoarse from disuse. He swallowed, and tacked on a more automatic sounding, “Uhm—no, sir.”

Sir, huh?

Well, Teddy wouldn’t argue with that. It sent a weird, tingling thrill all the way down to her fingertips, like grabbing hold of a live wire. Wrong in the same way it felt right, the intoxicating high of knowing you had your oldest enemy completely under your thumb.

No wonder vampires got so drunk on that kind of power.

Uninterested in pressing him for the truth—anything and everything she wanted to know she’d get out of him later—Teddy gave Mal another firm tug, and pulled him to a stop beside the old, white appliance truck.

The open bed in the back was crammed full of various tools and equipment and (mostly Will’s) junk, but a good third of the space was taken up by a white, chest style freezer.

Not the fanciest transport, but for the hunter on a budget, it’d do just fine. Secure, for her peace of mind, and sun proof, for the vampire’s. Supposedly they felt safer in small, dark places, which had led to the whole coffin-sleeping myth in the first place. Regardless, Mal would be safe on the hours-long ride back, even if it was a tight fit. He might even enjoy the chance to rest, which was sure as hell more than he deserved.

Climbing into the back, Teddy reached down to pull Mal up after her, and hauled him bodily into the truck bed with surprising ease. He grunted as he landed hard on his knees, Teddy’s iron grip around his arm the only thing keeping him from eating shit.

The side of Mal’s jaw ticked, like he was biting down on something, but he stayed bizarrely quiet. Just like he’d been the entire time. The Mal she remembered had never shut up; it was disconcerting to see him rendered practically mute.

Whispering unease slipped through Teddy’s ribs like a cold wind through bare tree branches. It rattled and sighed with the voice of doubt. She shook her head and let it pass. Grimaced.

No, it was him. It had to be him. The tip, everything the hunters here confirmed over the call, even his own reaction to the name was all but proof.

But—

You’d feel pretty damn silly if you went through all this trouble and got home with the wrong guy.

“Alright, stop,” Teddy ordered, halting the vampire before he could get up off his knees. He’d been staring at the freezer uneasily, but one word was enough for his attention to snap back to her. “Hold still. I wanna get a better look at you.”

Reaching down, Teddy cupped his jaw, tilting his head back so they were staring eye to eye. She felt the subtle flinch, the way Mal’s whole body seemed to pull taut at the contact, how badly he obviously wanted her hands off him.

But other than the flare of nostrils as he pulled in a breath, he maintained a surprisingly good poker face. No fighting, no struggling. Not even a peep of sass.

Teddy grimaced again at the tackiness of Mal’s skin, built up residue of god knew what covering him. Patchy stubble scratched at her fingertips. She brushed loose strands of hair out of his face, roughly tugged a couple chunks free where’d they’d caught under the muzzle straps, ignoring his wince.

His hair looked longer than she remembered, hanging just past his jaw. Uneven in places, like he’d lost patches of it at some point, and was only partly regrown. With all the filth, the color was indiscernible—it could’ve been red. Or anything from medium blond to brown originally. And if he had freckles, Teddy sure as hell couldn’t see them beneath the filth.

Eugh.

A sigh. “Mal,” Teddy said, like she was testing the name against some metric. “You are Mal, right?”

She felt his throat work as he swallowed. The look he gave her reminded Teddy of a wild animal, caught in a trap. Slowly, Mal nodded. Then managed a raspy, “Who—who are you?”

“Teddy,” she answered flatly. A steel bite undercut the words. “But you know what, I kinda like the sound of “Sir”, so let’s stick with that.”

She noted the complete lack of recognition at the drop of her name. Mild confusion that seamlessly melted into acceptance, hastily buried under a glaze of apathy. Another jerky little nod at the second half of her statement.

Something about it pissed Teddy off; the surge of her own fury took her by surprise, capsizing her better judgment before she could reign in her temper.

Fingers curling, she dug her nails savagely into Mal’s jaw, wrenching his head back until she felt the tendons in his neck straining at the angle, needing—something. A real reaction. Anger, pain, fear, it didn’t matter, Teddy just needed to know the monster still felt something the way she did, some dim reflection of the turmoil raging inside her like a storm.

Mal made a sound, quiet, against her hand. He wasn’t looking at her with apathy now. Blinded by her own rage, all Teddy could think was that it wasn’t enough.

Both of them shook. Little tremors traveled between them seamlessly, like an electric current.

Just get him home, a more sensible part of herself insisted, you’re so close, don’t blow it all now for a cheap shot.

Teeth grinding, Teddy stared down, wild eyed at her captive.

Shit.

Teddy released Mal abruptly, shoving him away from her. He landed hard, metal rattling against the truck bed. “Just go.” A disgusted noise rumbled in her throat, and she scrubbed the hand clean on her dark jeans. “Fucking leech bastard.”

Rising, Teddy pulled Mal along with her to the freezer, ignoring his startled yelp and the clatter of limbs hitting the truck bed as he tried to help rather than simply get dragged. He ended up on his side, slumped against the freezer, wide-eyed and staring up at her.

“But you wanna know who I am—?” Shoving open the lid, Teddy paused long enough to answer Mal’s question. “I’m your worst fucking nightmare.”

Teddy pushed out a rough sigh and slammed the driver’s side door closed behind her. Both hands braced against the wheel to stop them from shaking. She curled them around worn, familiar plastic, tightening her grip until it creaked, and the crisscross of white and pink scars stood out across the backs of her hands like lines on a map.

Her pulse slammed in her own ears. Too loud. Something under her ribs ached, like a stitch in her side from running too long.

Ten years. Ten fucking years.

And a whole damn lifetime of nightmares, jumping at shadows, wondering if she’d ever get closure for any of it.

Slouched quietly in the passenger’s seat, Will tapped out a cigarette and the world finally shook itself back into some kind of order. She waited for the familiar flickflickflick of his lighter, the sharp burn of tobacco and paper, before breaking the silence.

Rituals, Teddy came to realize over the years, were important. There was a reason magic thrived on them, that countless human societies were structured around them. Even mundane ones carried weight.

She breathed in deeply, taking comfort in the familiar burn of secondhand smoke. Let it out again, slow and controlled.

“Yeah, it’s Mal,” she said. The words came from someone else’s mouth. “Son of a bitch didn’t recognize me, but I got that much out of him. Shit.”

Teddy wished she’d kicked him in the teeth before locking him up. Given the bloodsucker something to think about on the ride home.

She’d stayed calm until her slip a moment ago. Cool, collected, distanced from it all—outwardly, at least. But once she gave it some slack, the dam keeping all those ugly emotions and nearly thirty years of pain and fear-fueled rage at bay started to crack.

“Dude looked pretty messed up already.” Spoken as mellow and unruffled as everything else that came out of Will’s mouth. He took a drag and blew the smoke out the window, one long, thin stream. “Guess these guys had him for a while, huh?”

Something sharp edged into Teddy’s voice. “I don’t give a shit what those hunters did to him.” She held the wheel in a death grip. “Hell, whatever it was, it wasn’t enough. That isn’t even close to what that leech deserves, not after what they did to us.”

Briefly, her gaze slid sideways, settling on Will. Unlike Teddy, he rarely bothered to hide his scars. On a warm night like this, a t-shirt left plenty of exposed skin. All of it told a story.

An ugly, bloody one.

Dozens of bite scars crawled from his wrists up past the crook of his elbows. More bloomed from beneath the neck of his shirt. And those were just the ones she could see—

Teddy sneered, then buckled her seatbelt. She threw the truck in drive and pulled out, flinging gravel and fishtailing for a second before she regained control. She flicked a salute to the hunters at the gate as they waved her through.

Humming in annoyance as the abrupt acceleration knocked a clump of ash loose onto his shirt, Will grimaced and brushed at it. It smudged, gray crushing into the warm yellow fabric.

“Jeeze, Teddy, ease off a little.” Sighing, Will abandoned the effort to save his shirt. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I know why you need this.” Even if Will didn’t.

But he got it, and no matter how gruesome or bloody a path Teddy chose to walk, Will followed. She had no doubt he’d follow her to hell and back, something that brought equal parts reassurance and guilt these days.

Teddy knew all of that. Just like they both knew it wasn’t really him she was mad at. “Yeah. Sorry.”

Forcing herself to ease off the accelerator, Teddy fixed her gaze out the front windshield. Now that they’d passed out of the compound, the sky opened up overhead. Like the ceiling of a black cathedral, speckled with thousands of points of dim, distant light.

Here, in the swath of no man’s land between established territories, very few dedicated settlements persisted—human or vampire. Just hunters, lone wolf types without a coven to claim them, and a handful of civilians too stubborn to leave their homesteads, preferring to protect their land or die trying.

It wasn’t all bad, though. Just quiet. Dark. Empty.

Things most humans feared. Things that had frighted Teddy once, too, but didn’t anymore.

“Whoa, Teddy, check it out—you can see the Milky Way tonight. Awesome.”

Pushing out an amused snort, she glanced over at Will. “You can always see the Milky Way out here.”

“Not when it’s cloudy,” Will pointed out brightly, grinning. “Or raining.”

“Right.” A good natured roll of her eyes, and Teddy leaned back into her seat. Relaxed the white knuckled grip she’d had on the wheel and pulled off the gravel road onto a proper paved one.

Little tremors still zipped down her arms, but the distraction kept the threat of spiraling into darker memories at bay.

Picking a thumbnail at the wheel, Teddy kept her eyes on the road as she said, “Thanks. For staying.” For everything.

Nothing would go back to the way it was before. The kids they’d been, all those years ago, were dead and buried. Even vengeance couldn’t change that.

But maybe closure could give them a better future to look forward to, after.

Smiling, Will slouched lower in his seat and flipped on the radio. Only a couple stations reached out this far, and of those two only one played music. Old country. Blues. Folk songs that had a distant crackle to them even without the fuzz of interference.

Will’s easy-going chuckle drifted over the crooning of a singer who'd died before they were born. “Well, someone’s gotta keep an eye on you.”

AN: those of you who saw the teaser I posted a while back might be wondering where that went, and the answer is the second half of chapter three is now becoming chapter four because this is already so long lol

I want to lay the ground work now though, and start establishing these characters properly. Even if that means taking a little more time.

Taglist: @whumpsday @writereleaserepeat @thecyrulik @lookbluesoup @cinnamon-roll-whump @whumpwillow @bloodinkandashes @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump

#whump #vampire whump #vampire whumpee #whumper turned whumpee #vampire hunter au #my writing #salt ocs #salt oc: mal #salt oc: teddy #salt oc: will

[the-scandalorian]

din request? reader feeling real sad and crying all day over something (maybe death or grogu leaving) and mando not knowing exactly how to console but goes to the bunk and awkwardly starts rubbing at their back and attempting to speak to them. but then reader asks if mando could sing to her or tell her a story (to take her mind off it and help her sleep) and din’s trying to think of something anything to help her because the mandalore aren’t known for their songs and bedtime stories but maybe he’s able to think of one. or maybe she doesn’t ask for anything at all but din still wants to comfort so he hums the song reader would sing to grogu to her surprise but it helps

gn!reader warnings: angst, loss, the razor crest lives

He finds you in the dark. There's a soft knock on the door of your bunk, a beat of silence, then the muted whisper of metal as it slides open.

It’s been almost a whole day since you disappeared—almost a whole day since the kid left—and you knew Mando would feel compelled to check on you eventually. He knocked a few times already, but this time he lets himself in when you don’t answer.

His boots are uncharacteristically quiet. He’s stepping lightly.

“Mesh'la?”

You stay tucked under your blankets, facing the wall, breathing slowly and deeply to feign sleep. You hope he'll leave.

You hope he'll stay.

Grief is complicated.

The kid is gone, and you didn’t expect to be this devastated. You feel hollow, scraped clean, and simultaneously too full. It doesn’t help that your only real reason to stay with Mando left with Grogu, so you’re about to lose him too. The little family of three you forged out of necessity was always going to be temporary. You knew that. It doesn’t make it any easier to watch it dissolve.

“Talk to me.”

If you wait long enough, he’ll leave, and you can go back to being miserable in peace.

“You need to eat something. And you’re dehydrated.”

He's probably checking your vitals right now, ever the caretaker. He’s not one to push boundaries, though. He’ll give up and let you be. There are no obligations anymore—no reason he needs to keep you with him to move forward, no tiny child to protect together.

But instead, to your surprise, a little bit of that characteristic stubbornness seeps into his voice, and he says, “I’m not leaving until you talk to me.”

You roll over reluctantly and glance up at him. He looks massive, looming over you in the cramped space of your bunk, his beskar painted cool blue by the low lights of the Razor Crest.

You’re not sure exactly when it happened, but at some point over the last few months, this beat-up ship started to feel like home.

Before you can stop it, a fresh tear tracks down your cheek.

Mando makes a pained sound in his chest and shifts his weight from one foot to the other, his right hand fidgeting restlessly against his thigh plate.

This is exactly what you wanted to avoid.

You’ve always kept displays of emotion to a minimum around Mando, sure that he wouldn’t know what to do with them—aware, too, that emotional support is not in the job description of hunting partner. This feeling, it turns out, is too big to hold in. No matter how hard you try.

Mando was his usual stoic self when Grogu went with the Jedi. You watched the impassive back of his head as he’d replaced his helmet and since then, noted no perceptible change in his demeanor. You’d returned to the Razor Crest together, he’d silently set the nav for Nevarro, and that was it—a tacit yet obvious announcement of the end of...whatever it is the two of you have.

Had.

It isn't his fault you got overly attached to a partner and a bounty. And it’s definitely not his job to put you back together, but he’s a good man, so you know he’ll try if you let him.

You sit up and wipe your eyes, doing your best to pull yourself together.

“I’m fine,” you reassure him.

He tilts his helmet skeptically.

“I’ll be fine,” you amend. “Really, I’m okay.”

You wait for him to turn and leave, to shut the door behind him. Instead, he takes a seat by your feet, your cot dipping under his weight. He looks down at his hands in his lap, his helmet hanging heavy, his shoulders slumped forward.

“I miss him too.”

He turns his head to look at you and slowly reaches for your hand, hovering uncertainly over it until you give him a dazed nod. And he slides toward you on the bed, so he can clasp it between his gloved ones, caught there gently.

You hold your breath, oscillating between the desire to reach for more of him and the fear that if you do, you’ll shatter this moment and scare him back behind his armor.

He looks at your hand between his then up at your face.

“You still have me.”

Your voice is watery and broken, but your lips turn up in a tentative smile. “Yeah?”

He leans into you at the same time he tightens his grip on your hand and pulls you into him. You wrap your arms around each other. It’s awkward to hug while he’s sitting on the edge of the bed and you’re scrunched up at the top of it, with him in his bulky armor and the blankets tangled around your waist. And it’s perfect.

He holds you tight against him, your face tucked into his cowl, his large hand on the nape of your neck. For the first time, you can actually hear him breathing before the sound hits the modulator. You can feel it too—the rise and fall of his chest against yours.

His other hand starts a slow climb up your back then descends, falling into a comforting repetition. And then he starts to hum, a low vibration in his chest that flowers into the softest sound.

At first, you don’t recognize the melody.

You usually sing the words—used to, anyways. It sounds different in his deep voice, filtered through the modulator. You sang it to Grogu most nights to put him to sleep, a song from your childhood. A comfort. A lullaby.

You didn’t know Mando knew it, that all those nights he was listening too.

When he reaches the end of the song, he pulls back far enough to look at your face, tilting your chin up with two fingers.

“You’ll always have me.”

#asks #requests #ficlet #the-scandalorian writes #drabble #mando x you #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #mando x gender neutral reader #din djarin x gender neutral reader #the mandalorian x gender neutral reader

[starlightiing]

Could you put together a top 5 or even top 3 drivers and why?

I - like my opinion I guess, obviously? I'm not sure I could narrow my faves down to three or even to five but I can try. I'm going to do top 6 I think. That would fit better for me.

George Russell

Alex Albon

Pierre Gasly

Lando Norris

Oscar Piastri

Charles Leclerc

I don't really know if that's THE order because it changes around a lot. But...Those are my top six for sure. The why's are really silly and not technical and probably useless to explain but George for me is a world championship contender (not this year) but in general, in a good car. He has so much untapped potential we've not even seen yet. He's ambitious without being a cunt (some people think he's a cunt, idk, I don't see it), his heart is on his sleeve openly and proudly and I love that for him/about him. Show me more emotional men in sports pls. He has the talent, the drive, the ability - but not the car. I could see George, if put in a competitive car again, world champ in a few years really.

Alex is an AMAZING driver. Yadda yadda, he crashed 2x, yadda yadda, Williams, yadda yadda el oh el chassis, blah blah blah. I don't really want to hear all that when you look at the car he's stuck with. That kid can drive, he wasn't BAD with Red Bull he just wasn't up to their standards, but you put him back in a car like that and give him a year or two and he's there. I will never not talk about Alex's talent. He is incredible and I hate to say it but it is simply this: no one does well in that Williams car. He also needs to come out into a better team, better car, and start working his way up to where he can be comfortable driving with the big teams.

Pierre is another one with untapped potential. His story is tragic and I don't like to talk about him too long because it makes me sick. He himself I'm sure is just fine and having a great time and doesn't need/want defending, but I don't like it. I see it in him, that passion is so strong I can feel it radiating off of him. People don't like him because he's been bitchy and unhappy recently but can you blame him? Look what he's got to work with. He's a race winner and he's stuck back of the pack in a car that looked so goddamn promising when he signed his contract and ended up eating absolute dogshit. You can say Red Bull gave him a chance and they did (sort of), and maybe they were right in saying he wasn't ready for THAT just yet - but he is SO much better than where he is right now and has fought so much harder and gone through so much, and he deserves to be in a car that fights as hard as his heart does. Period. I could easily see him being in a place where Lando is right now, in a decent car.

Lando and Oscar I just think are good. Period. Lando has his moments where he chokes and I think people are really, really hard on him for it but I'd really love to see them hop in a car and do what he does :) Things happen. Literally all you have to do is accidentally turn the wheel a little more than you planned (which we've all done in our regular cars, I'm CERTAIN) but going as fast as he is, that can be a catastrophic mistake. That's the pressure they're all under, and they all make mistakes. And Lando is a nervous little bunny sometimes, so I think that doesn't help, but the point still stands: they all make mistakes. Lando gets too much shit for his, period. He's a fantastic driver. Oscar is incredibly talented - without even bringing up his age, because I feel like it's backhanded "wow he's great for his age" nah mate he's just great. He's working his way up and doing really really well and just getting better and better. He's a strong competitor, don't sleep on him.

I think we all know about Charles Leclerc's ability and potential, his heart, his passion, what fuels him and what his team does to him. I don't think I need to deep dive too far into this one. Loyal to a fault, gets his own heart broken too much by bad calls - but probably one of the most razor fast reflexes on the grid and overflowing in natural talent. And he's not a dick, which we love. Please don't confuse "sometimes being a dick" with being a dick overall as a person - they are not the same thing. I am sometimes a bitch, I am not a bitch as a whole. He can and hopefully will world champ before George.

#charles leclerc #oscar piastri #lando norris #george russell #alex albon #pierre gasly

[hapan-in-exile]

Volume 4 - Post #3: Life During Wartime

Another installment in this ongoing serialized fanfic

GIF by myriadimagines

Genre: Mandalorian x Fem! Reader

Total word count: 3.2K (third post in Volume 4)

Rating: Explicit - smut, language, +18 *NSFW*

_______________________________

“Fucking farrick,” you grumble, trying to jam the locker door back onto its hinges. When it finally eases open, you grab your rucksack and head for the exit without changing out of your coveralls. 

You never remove so much as a shoe once you're inside the refinery. Showers were available, but no one used them. Cameras surveilled practically every inch of this facility. And just because you can’t see them doesn’t mean they aren’t in here, too.  

Stepping out from under the dim artificial light, it takes a minute for your eyes to adjust to the riot of color. It’s early morning, barely past midnight, but the sky is awash in brilliant yellows and oranges, alight with swirling pink clouds. 

Lakaran’s nearest sun only dipped below the mountains this time of year, never truly setting. When it sank behind the peaks at this hour, the ridgeline became a deep indigo against the horizon, its glaciers reflecting back the sky’s warm glow.  

Ehki is what the Lakarani called their star. Grandmother, it meant. Her daughter, Amular, was the world, and Ehki traveled around her in an unending circle to carefully watch over her children. So tonight, when the sun finally fell into darkness, and there would be several hours of real night for the first time in months, the Lakarani would throw a gigantic party while Grandma Ehki wasn’t looking. 

You know you should hurry up and leave before someone accuses you of loitering, but instead, you pause to take in the view. A small, inconsequential act of rebellion. The scenery is breathtaking up here. The air is thin and crisp. It’s the best part of your day to stand on this spot and take in the majestic landscape right before making that sharp turn toward the escalator. 

The view from the west side of the slope is decidedly less sublime. 

The scale of the encampments surrounding the processing plant is almost impossible to take in at first glance. The structures are a jumble of materials built on top of each other in layers that look more like debris washed up by the river than a deliberate settlement.

The skyline is dominated by the refinery’s cooling towers belching out steam that smelled acrid and made the air thick with humidity. The water used for cooling went right back into the river, along with the encampment’s sewage. Which is why you absolutely refused to eat anything fished or gathered downstream.

You step off the escalator and see Humia waiting for you outside the checkpoint. The security guard reaches for your bag, not bothering to look up or make conversation while she searched its contents. She doesn’t care to ask for your name either, just waits for the familiar beep of the transponder at your wrist to confirm your exit as you walk through the gate.

“How’d it go today?”

“Good,” you answer brightly, patting the bound folio strapped to your stomach. “I found this fire safety and evacuation handbook with a very detailed floor plan of level nine. Raceways, server rooms, access panels…I’ll have to ask my partner about the utility lines, but we might be able to bore into the operations center from an adjoining room.”  

“That is good,” she nods enthusiastically. "This is your partner, Nito? He’s the tech guy?”

“Yeah,” a reluctant smile tugs at your lips. Humia probably wasn’t envisioning a furry thirteen-year-old when she used the phrase tech guy, but that would be a fun little detail for her to discover later. 

Or sooner rather than later? You still haven’t heard anything from the Razor Crest about when to expect their arrival on Lakaran. Which is absolutely fine. Definitely not a big deal. Nope. Not at all something that you’ve been overthinking for the past eighteen days straight. 

Nope. It’s not at all distracting to obsess about how, after months of tortuous yearning, you finally had sex with the Mandalorian and have not spoken to him since. 

Gods, why is it suddenly so hard to breathe just thinking about him? The fact that you spend most of your nights alone, willing yourself to recall the memory of his hands on your body while the tears can fall without shame…has been, you know, not great for your mental health. 

So that’s why, a few nights a week, you take a break from drowning in insecurity and play at the Sabacc tables. 

Guess that’s out of the question now. You’ll need to avoid Johar Kessen like the plague.   

“Nito’s been dredging through the Imperial archive for more information on the refinery. The stuff he’s found is incredible. All of the records from when they built this place.” 

“Good,” she smiles appreciatively. 

As you descend toward the encampment, the rocky mountain path splits into three parts. Two fanned out onto the raised perimeter wall made of poured concrete and scrapwood that traced a broad circle around the sprawling camp. It had been constructed by the Tagge Corporation to help with mudslides, but what it really helped with was surveilling the Lakarani. 

You and Humia take the main path through the center of camp. 

The hut you shared was higher up on the slope, which was a blessing when it rained but a pain in the ass when you had to walk uphill after eating your weight’s worth of bean cakes for dinner or hauling laundry back home from the wash house. 

“Another option is turning one of the technicians, but I’m not having a ton of luck in that department. I can usually wrap scientists around my finger, but engineers are so tricky. It takes them an ungodly amount of time to realize you’re trying to fuck them.”

“For what it’s worth, I would turn for you in a heartbeat,” you say, holding your face between your hands, eyes wide with adoration. “Those dark lashes are criminally lush.”

Humia swats away the compliment. “I could steal a key card, but I have no idea how long it would take for someone to discover it’s gone. That might hold us to a very narrow time frame depending on when it’s reported missing.”

You follow her up the winding footpath that leads homeward. The camp is much easier to navigate this time of day, when everyone is still asleep. “I like the idea of entering from an adjoining room. That way, there’s no exposure in the hallway. Even if we’re in uniform, five people on the cleaning crew, when there are usually only two, will be immediately suspicious.”

The Mandalorian’s solution would undoubtedly be to come in through the front door, rifles blazing, but that’s not an option in this scenario. You have to secure the operations center before anyone from the Tagge Corporation realizes the refinery is under attack. The risk that they would activate the facilities’ containment protocol is too great. It would condemn not only everyone on site but anyone within five leagues of the processing plant.

“We could stuff Serenio and Davik into the cleaning cart?” Humia chuckles at the implausibility of this suggestion.

“I doubt we could even push the cart with Davik stuffed inside. He’s built like a stack of boulders.”

“I told him to quit training in the fighting pits. He’s going to attract too much attention.” 

“Why does every population center in this galaxy require some kind of fighting pit? It’s a weird kind of calculus. One communal latrine per 20 persons. One fighting pit per 100 persons.”

She rolls her eyes, “Do you know a more straightforward way to earn money than two people beating the shit out of each other? Though, I don’t think Davik does it for the money. He’s just like a puppy that chews all your socks if he doesn’t get enough exercise.” 

“He’s so young,” you sigh, feeling suddenly guilty. “Him and Serenio, both.”

“Most soldiers are,” Humia scoffs. “Revolutions don’t offer a very robust life expectancy.”

“That’s true. I didn’t expect to make it out alive when I joined the Rebellion. And I appreciate the protection. But I can’t help seeing them as children.”

She tosses her head with a derisive laugh, “And I didn’t expect you to be so tenderhearted.”

No doubt she thought it made you weak. But you’re wise enough to know empathy took far more bravery than cynicism. “Just because I can recognize the cruelty of this life doesn’t mean I’ve made peace with it.”  

“That’s rather noble coming from someone working with a Mandalorian.” 

Your neck turns sharply to catch the look on her face, but she’s already ducking around the pilings and cantilevered beams bracing your neighbors' houses against the mountainside.  

“You don’t like Mandalorians?” It seems like an odd prejudice. 

“No,” she sneers. “They say they are bound by codes and honor, yet they show nothing but selfish indifference toward the plight of others.” She stops abruptly on her heels to glare at you, brushing strands of auburn hair from her eyes. “And I like your Mandalorian least of all.”

He’s not my Mandalorian, your heart sighs.

The hateful disdain imbuing her words is like a slap to the face. Humia rarely revealed the depth of her emotions. What could inspire this level of rancor from an otherwise inscrutable woman? And why bring this up now?

You cough, clearing your throat to mask the apprehension in your voice. “I didn’t realize you already knew him?”

“I don’t need to know him. I know what he’s done.” But it’s a reflexive response, not a real answer. So you wait. “They’re all mercenaries,” she says, compelled to explain herself. “Condemning their souls for money. They profit from the misery of others for the sake of themselves.” 

You can tell she desperately wants you to ask, What has he done?

It’s not the first time Humia had hinted at a bitter history between the Mandalorian and her leader, Ubaa Dir. But you don’t take the bait. If you’re missing some part of the story, you want to hear it from his lips, not hers.

Instead, you remind her with a wry grin, “Well, now you’re working with him too.”

“I suppose that’s true,” she concedes. “Wars make for strange bedfellows.” 

An image of them together flashes behind your eyes, and the irrational taste of jealousy fills your mouth. Don’t be absurd! Hadn’t Humia just admitted she'd never met Mando? 

Lucky for you, she lets the moment pass without escalation. Her tone shifts, and she places a companionable hand on your shoulder.

“I’ve heard Kessen fights in the pits. We could go to watch him sometime? Belen’s right, you know, he’s got a crush on you.”

“I have no idea why,” you begin, but Humia raises her hand to cut you off.

“You’re a beautiful woman, Kasya. Hiding under workwear and bushy eyebrows won't change that.”

“Now, why would you bring my eyebrows into it?” You tease, as though it might erase her vitriol from moments ago. That is until you catch sight of the security guard standing on your front porch. “Is it okay that he’s waiting here for you?”

It’s the same guy she brought home last week. When he spots you walking down the path, his face breaks into a wide grin. He waves, looking giddy, as though he might jump off the steps to run for her.  

“This one, I can turn,” she mutters, slowing her pace. “I’m glad he told us how to block the transponders…but he’s fallen harder than he should. If he starts getting heartsick, it could be a problem.”

“Poor kid. You bat those lashes, and what hope do any of us have?” 

“See,” she looks at you askance, nudging you in the stomach with her elbow. “That shit is why Kessen likes you. You’re so sweet with your friends and no one else. He wants some of that honey for himself.”

You snatch at the opportunity to throw her off the subject. “Why Humia Fenrik, are we friends?”

“Why, yes, Kas,” her voice is laden with gooey sarcasm. “You’re my best friend. That’s why I got you this job, remember?” She adamantly refuses to change the subject. “Some men like a challenge. And Johar Kessen is very bored stuck out here with the likes of us, guarding all these soulless corpos.”

“So by challenge, you mean, like how I’ve given him absolutely no indication whatsoever that I’m interested?”

“Are you worried he might recognize you from the Rebellion?”

“What?! No, I’m sure he was much higher up the food chain.” Rumor was that Kessen had led special operations forces during the war. “Kinda sad that he went from Rebel hero to working for the Tagge family.”

“There’s your angle,” Humia says, snapping her fingers. “It would be good to have him on our side once the fighting starts. And Kessen might be elite for a bodyguard, but I bet they treat him like a piece of furniture, same as the rest of us. He must hear things.”

You cock your head at her. “Then maybe you should approach him?”

She’s probably already considered it, but come on! She didn’t have to rake her eyes over you like a bawd house madam ready to offer up her best girl. 

“I’m not the one he wants.”

“Listen, I’m flattered you think so highly of my charm, but I do not have the skill set.” You’re at least tactful enough not to say, I’m not like you out loud. This is Humia’s job. She’s very good at it. And it’s not your place to approve or disapprove of the way she went about it. “I’d be too nervous.”

You remember each time you had to quietly lock yourself in the privy to heave up the contents of your stomach whenever the Mandalorian asked you a pointed question, thinking, He knows! He knows I’m lying! 

Which…yeah, it turns out he did. “I think I’d have a panic attack and blackout.”

“Your cover story is a psycho ex-lover. Of course, you’re nervous.” At that, Humia gives you an appraising look. “You’re living under a stolen identity and seem to be doing just fine.”

“Exactly! Because I don’t talk to anyone.” A sudden knot lodges in your throat. “Have you asked Serenio to approach anyone?”

One of the refinery executives had an unsettling interest in her. You clean the facilities overnight, so there's rarely any staff on-site, but whenever he worked late, he made a point of saying hello to her. A good opportunity to practice his Twi’lek sign language, he claimed.

You know it’s a mistake to ask about it as soon as the question leaves your mouth. She immediately becomes defensive. “Serenio is loyal unto death. She would do whatever I commanded.”

Humia didn’t have to add, unlike you. It just hung in the air unspoken. 

“But Serenio is trained for combat, not espionage. And she’s green as a pea shoot.” 

“Ah, so I’m overripe?” You arch a bushy eyebrow at her. "Just falling off the vine. Thanks for that!"

“I’m just saying Johar Kessen is very attractive and likable. You wouldn’t have to pretend. It’s not much of a heavy lift, surely?”

“Okay, the sleeping with him part I could probably manage. But as soon as I ask Kessen a remotely leading question, he will immediately know what I’m up to!”

“There’s no need to tie yourself into knots,” she snaps. "Just be honest. You think it’s beneath you.”

Humia’s back is rigid, and her jaw is clenched tight. She looks so proud yet so vulnerable that it breaks your heart.

Is this why she’s so angry? She'd been seething all day, spoiling for a fight. It makes you question whether her anger about the Mandalorian is sincere or just an attempt to provoke you.

“Humia, this entire operation is built on your intelligence work. You think I look down on you because I’m horrified or judgemental about what you do. But it’s the opposite. I recognize what a dangerous game you’re playing and know I don’t have the courage for it.”

You wish you could give her a hug, but this was not the time or place to dwell on what was at stake, or the weight of what she carried on her shoulders.

“Fine,” Humia huffs, shaking off the tension. “Just think about it.”

Oh, you’ve had plenty of time to think about it. Sleeping with Johar Kessen is not going to happen for a number of reasons. 

Chief among them is he would discover that—contrary to your fake documents—you are not human. Which would inevitably lead to the discovery that you are not, in fact, Kasya Hawat. That secret would give him leverage, and you simply refuse to hand someone that kind of power over you.  

But you can’t tell Humia this. Because then she would know that you aren’t human, and that is something you don’t plan to share with anyone here on Lakaran. At least not yet. It’ll be another fun little detail for her to discover later.

Seven hells, now you’re doubly glad she doesn’t know. Given the course of this conversation, you have no doubt she’d insist that you use your influence to dig through Kessen’s thoughts and memories for something useful. That’s why Hapan courtesans were so highly prized—one of the few professions the Consortium allowed to leave the Hapes Cluster—and why they made the best spies. 

Amongst those other reasons…you have no idea how Mando would react. Though, if you had to guess? You’d guess poorly. 

While there’s the whole sworn warrior of Mandalore—I can’t call you mine—complication, you know how he feels about you. A man who struggles with trust would not find it easy to share. His sense of duty and commitment to the job might oblige him to accept it as a necessary tactic, but you aren’t willing to risk it driving a wedge between you. Things are already too delicate.

Aaand now you’re thinking about Mando again. 

Fuck, you miss him so much. You awoke every morning wanting him, a dull ache between your thighs. You wanted to hear the sound of his laughter, to touch every inch of his skin with your fingers and feel his heartbeat under your lips to know he was really all right. You wanted to feel his body over you, under you, inside you… 

Ugh, you’ve already thought about him about a dozen times today. What’s once more.  

“Okay, I’ll think about it.” You lie, hoping she’ll let this go for now. “Will I see you later?” You ask, looking meaningfully at the security guard waiting impatiently on your porch.

“No. Unless you’re going to the bonfire tonight?” Her gaze became conspiratorial. “Kessen will probably be there. All those corpos love Lakarani culture if it means slumming it up with us. He'll have to keep them out of trouble. Your pocket is chirping, by the way.” 

“What?” you ask, distractedly patting down the front of your coveralls. “Um, sure. Maybe I’ll see you there.”

“If not, we should meet for morning prayers at the temple tomorrow. Make our report.” Humia says, beckoning the guard over to join you. “Why are you smiling at your communicator?”

"Hmmm?"

The Razor Crest had just arrived on Lakaran.

****************

Continue reading: Volume 4-Post #4: Say goodbye to the old me.

Back to Volume 4 - all posts

#mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #sexy mando #mando smut #sexymando #mando x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian smut #din djarin x you #din djarin smut #din djarin #din djarin x reader #star wars smut

[i-did-not-mean-to]

U - Unexpected

This beautiful art has been done by @lycheesodas and thus, I am delighted to dedicate this piece to this amazing friend and artist :D

Words: 677

Pairing: Beleg x Mablung

Warnings: Minor injury

“Beleg!”

Beleg looked up from the dossier he was working on in surprise; he was working late, catching up on some paperwork, and had believed his beloved Mablung to be stretched out on the couch with a documentary by this time.

Consequently, he was astonished to behold the very man, storming into the small veterinary clinic as if the wolves of Sauron were on his heels.

“What is it, love? Are you ill?” Beleg asked automatically, only realising that Mablung would not have chosen this kind of practice if that was the case upon seeing the confused expression on the man’s face.

“No, but they are,” Mablung panted and brandished a cat dramatically.

Beleg looked at the brownish-grey tabby with professional curiosity and decided—barring some mysterious illness that would not show any visible symptoms—that the tomcat was in excellent health.

“It was meowing pitifully, surely it is hurt,” Mablung went on. The urgency in his voice was probably entirely uncalled for, but Beleg was nonetheless touched by how deeply his boyfriend seemed to care about a random stay he had picked up from the gutter.

“Let me see the little bugger then,” he said softly and reached across the counter to take hold of this unexpected patient—as soon as his hands touched the matted fur though, a quick paw lashed out and swiped a set of razor-sharp claws along Beleg’s cheek.

With a choked cry, the veterinary doctor flinched back.

“Oh no,” Mablung cried, overwhelmed and torn between wanting to avenge his partner and trying to protect the cat.

“It’s quite all right,” Beleg assured him. “He looks hungry and grumpy. Let’s see first if he’ll eat something. Once he’s been fed, he might be mellow enough to let me examine him.”

“It’s a boy?” Mablung asked while he watched his beloved measure out a cup of premium cat food.

“He is,” Beleg acquiesced. “If you don’t want to keep him, I’m sure we’ll find a good home for Noldo.”

“Noldo?”

Beleg chuckled awkwardly. “I would not have chosen this profession if I was not generally popular with animals—it is exceedingly rare that one takes an instant dislike to me. Except…”

Shrugging, Mablung had to admit that he was not entirely wrong. “Noldo it is then…”

Beleg set the bowl down on the counter and Noldo pounced on it without hesitation; satisfied that his first diagnosis had been correct, Beleg lifted his eyes towards his partner and smiled.

Mablung—so serious and stone-faced and yet so laughably transparent—was biting his lip and shuffling his big feet against the linoleum floor; it was evident that he had something on his mind.

“You want to keep the blasted thing, don’t you?”

“Well, he likes me!” Mablung said defensively—they were both so used to people falling over themselves to get into Beleg’s good graces because he was so charming and approachable, but it was much rarer that something similar happened to Mablung.

“Of course, he does,” Beleg laughed, “you are the kindest person on earth and you look good enough to eat in those trousers!”

“I do not think the cat has much appreciation for my wardrobe,” Mablung grinned, “but thank you, my love. So….”

Beleg patted Noldo’s head very carefully and walked around the counter to sling his arms around Mablung’s comforting, muscular midriff.

“Of course, you can keep the cat,” he purred, “and you two can conspire against me if that makes you happy.”

“I would never,” Mablung immediately refuted the mere idea. “He just needs a home.”

With a shivering sigh, Beleg leaned his face against Mablung’s chest, running his hands across that broad, strong back eagerly.

“There is no better home for a feral stray than you,” he whispered fervently. “I would know.”

After a quick once-over—Beleg had been right and the cat was as fine as he possibly could be—and a short trip to the storage room, they finally took the newest member of their household, firmly snuggled into Mablung’s protective embrace, back to his forever home.

@fellowshipofthefics: here's the next one!

As always,

Lots of love from me

-> Masterlist

#og post #IDNMT writes #fanfiction #writing #tolkien writing #Beleg x Mablung #jrrt #April Alphabet #fotfics april alphabet #fellowshipofthefics #U #Unexpected #Silm

[zombiebabysitter]

LOCATION: Outside Wicked's Rest TIMING: Current PARTIES: Charlie & Wyatt (@loftylockjaw) SUMMARY: Charlie and Wyatt go skydiving!

_

Of all the ideas that Charlie had managed to think of, this one was a good one. At least, to him it was. He knew if he were to tell Finn that he was willingly hurtling himself out of a plane, he’d have some kind of conniption fit. So he’d opted not to tell him at all. What little he knew, the better off he’d be. He opted out of telling Mack, too. Most of the people he knew from before the incident that weren’t zombie food seemed to congregate in this weird town. Wyatt was no exception, it seemed. Charlie looked at the rules on the wall of the room they were in, making sure he was checking all the boxes. No loose or baggy clothes, check. Eat something? Check. Sleep well before jumping? Well… he was sure it’d be fine.

There were a few other people there with them, a young looking couple and another girl with a high ponytail who kept shooting looks in Charlie’s direction. Fuck, she probably recognized him or something. He gave an awkward smile in her direction before looking over to the instructor who introduced himself as Vince. Vince. What kind of fuckass name was Vince? Anyway, he should probably pay attention. Vince had a backpack in his hands and was talking about the equipment. “You have a main canopy in here and a reserve canopy up here, just in case the main canopy fails to work.” Vince was touching all sorts of areas of the backpack, and Charlie decided it was a good idea to pay close attention. “This is how you deploy the canopy.” Vince spoke, pointing to the device and pulling on it lightly. “This is the reserve handle in case you need it.” He pointed to another handle on the backpack. “This is a cutaway in case your main gets tangled up.” He pointed to a red handle. There were a lot of fucking handles, holy shit. 

Vince held up a contraption, called it an altimeter, and told the group that it would deploy when it reached 4500 feet. “Once you’re in the plane, you’re going to put on your seatbelt.” The instructor said. “It sounds counter-intuitive, I know. Once we’re at 1500 feet, you’re going to take it off. “As we’re reaching the altitude, we’re going to put our gear on, our helmets, all that. We’ll do one final gear check, then it’s go time. We’re here to have a good time and come back alive, got it?” The instructor looked at everyone, and Charlie nodded his head, realizing that this was actually fucking happening. “Ready to do this?” He asked Wyatt, looking at the ridiculous suits they were going to have to put on.

—

“Fuck yeah I’m ready to do this,” Wyatt responded confidently as they followed the small group out onto the tarmac and up the steps to the small propeller plane. Or at least it was a mask of confidence. In his day to day, the lamia feared very little… save for the birds, which reminded him of the evil dreams that haunted him. Cardinals, pigeons, seagulls and blue jays… it mattered little to him the size, coloration, or even the temperament of these animals; the only thing he cared about was that they stoked a fear in his heart so deep and so foreign that he could not bear to meet it with the even gaze and fearless heart that was normally his own. Crows, though… they were the worst. The squawk of a crow in the night would send the lamia into a spiraling panic, for he could never be certain if he was dreaming; if another nightmare was close at hand. 

As for the rest of it, he hadn't much to fear. His natural form, the massively large, scaled beast with claws like daggers and teeth like razors, was not one to be made a victim. Few things could truly threaten him, but he had a feeling, as he peered out the window of the plane while it quickly climbed into the air, that a fall from such a height with a broken parachute would smear him into the ground just like any other Joe Schmoe. So he felt a twinge of hesitation, but wouldn't let it stop him. After all, as first-timers, they wouldn't be set off on their own. This was a tandem jump, and each adrenaline seeker would be tethered to his own guide, one who was well seasoned in the art of skydiving.

Thank god. 

As they neared the altitude where donning that gear would become required, Wyatt took the helmet in his hands and turned it from side to side, giving it a hard stare. “What kinda good do you think this thing is actually doin’?” He commented, glancing sideways at Charlie, who sat beside him. “Like… if the chute doesn't work, it doesn't work. I feel like a little bike helmet isn't gonna help a lot in makin’ sure my precious, beautiful brain stays put in my even more precious n’ beautiful head.”

—

Sat beside Wyatt in the plane, Charlie snorted in response to the other’s comment. “It’s for the wind, dude.” Charlie replied, smacking his biceps with a grin. “You want to be falling at a terminal velocity with the wind smacking you in the face? Or a bug hitting you at that speed? No thanks, I’ll wear the helmet.” Charlie patted his helmet with a goofy grin. Charlie either noticed the man’s hesitation about something and chose to ignore it, or didn’t see it at all. 

“Rest assured that your beautiful, majestic head will stay attached to your body. And if something goes wrong with both chutes, then rest in fuckin’ pieces, I’ll miss ya.” Charlie clapped Wyatt on the back with a chuckle. Charlie should be more nervous than he was, knowing he was about to jump out of a fucking airplane with a stranger attached to him. Well, at least if the stranger fucked up, he’d go down knowing it wasn’t him responsible. The other guy knew what he was doing, Charlie didn’t. Charlie was in it for the thrills, nothing else. And nothing else said thrilling quite like skydiving. It felt like the cliched and right thing to do.

The plane continued to climb in altitude, leaving Charlie sitting in the plane with his hair tied back, looking at everyone else that was eagerly awaiting to meet the correct altitude. “Thanks for coming with me,” he told Wyatt, nudging him in the side. “I mean, you haven’t seen me in how long and you decided to tag along on my need for speed? I appreciate it.” It was nice to have run into so many people that he knew once upon a time, from Mack to Wyatt to Finn. It was good to know that he wasn’t the only one in this town with something wacky going on. 

Charlie thought briefly about what if this killed him. What if he didn’t come back? Well, he would hope he wouldn’t come back if the parachute failed and he splatted onto the earth below. That would be heinous. He shuddered and shook his head. He still knew nothing about what it felt like to be a zombie outside of someone who knew someone. What if it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be? What if this thrill-seeking was going to amount to nothing but trouble? Charlie blinked his eyes and took a deep breath. No, he wasn’t going to think about that. Not now, not fucking ever. Right now, he was here for the time of his life, nothing else.

—

“Oh.” That made sense. Wyatt felt a little stupid for not having thought of that, but it was short lived. “Don’t worry. If I eat shit on this thing, I’ll make sure to haunt your ass.” The thanks wasn’t needed, but it did make him smirk. Charlie, just like Xó and Owen and pretty much everyone else he’d befriended while in Boston, knew nothing of his nighttime extracurriculars. The fights had always been a private affair for him for as long as he could keep it that way. He had a feeling that most of the people in his life, past and present, probably wouldn’t approve of his deadly methods. “‘Course, cher. We all need a yes man, n’ I’m happy to be yours,” he answered with a chuckle. 

It wasn’t long before they were all suited up and at altitude. One worker opened up the door of the plane they’d be leaping out of, and their tandem divers were busy hooking up all the clips and straps and whatnot that would keep them attached. Some more instructions were shouted over the roar of the wind and the propellers, and the first set of divers counted to three and leaped out the open door. 

“Hey,” Wyatt hollered over the noise as he elbowed Charlie in his side, “race you to the ground!” His own tandem diver guided him to the edge (it was not easy trying to walk while attached to someone, he realized), gave him a rough pat on the shoulder and a thumbs up, which Wyatt returned enthusiastically. Then they were off, and the earthbound lamia envied, only for a moment, the freedom of birds. 

—

“Promise?” Charlie shot back at Wyatt's threat of haunting him after death. He already had people haunting him, what’s one more going to do? At least the people haunting him could have a good time together, all crazy as fuck and in it for a good time. When Wyatt said he was happy to be his yes man, Charlie felt oddly touched, like he had a friend that was alright to do the stupid shit with him like he was for his bandmates. He swallowed the feeling down to worry about at a later time (it was always going to be a later time). 

People were starting to hook up to their tandem divers, and suddenly, that fear that Charlie tried so hard to keep at bay was rising to the surface. For a moment, he thought he wasn’t going to be able to do it. The tandem diver clapped him on the back before hooking themselves in, and Charlie took a deep breath before putting his helmet on. People were jumping out, and it was happening. 

Charlie took another breath and moved to the exit, staring down, then staring over to Wyatt who was tempting him to a race to the ground. Charlie grinned wickedly before nodding his head and closed his eyes for a moment before letting the tandem diver encourage his weight forward before jumping out of the plane completely. 

For the first time, he was flying. And he felt so alive, he felt like he was made of electricity. The world below was so far away, and all Charlie could do was let out a holler of excitement as he was freefalling. He finally understood why people did this, that he had let fear rule him for so long when he could have been doing shit like this. 

Vik would have loved this, would have been the first to volunteer and do this with him. Lindz would have, too. He missed his friends, missed that they’d never have this opportunity (Gareth would have eaten his own socks before skydiving). Before he knew it, the tandem diver was pulling their shute, and they were flung backward and making a slower descent to the ground that had been rapidly approaching them. 

For the first time in a long time, Charlie felt truly alive, and knew this was only the beginning of a very serious adrenaline seeking period in his life. Charlie touched the ground and ran along it to lose momentum with his tandem diver, heart racing and breathing ragged as he looked around for Wyatt, wondering if he’d beat him to the ground.

—

“Sir? Hey, sir!” A hand gripped his shoulder from behind, shaking him. Wyatt blinked, putting his arms out to try and stop the fall before realizing they were still quite high in the air. Had he passed out? Fallen asleep? He couldn’t remember any dreams, which was bizarre. “Good! I’m good!” he called over the howl of the wind rushing past them, reorienting himself. Jesus, he couldn’t even stay awake during freefall? It was like the moment his feet left the ground, he was out. At least he hadn’t had any more terrifying visions. 

Shaking off the drowsiness and trying to focus on the present, he found it easy enough to slip back into the mask of being fine, genuinely thrilled by the dive and able to push away his problems for now. (If only he knew how similar he and Charlie were in that regard!) They deployed their chute and soared the rest of the way to the landing site without issue. Once back on solid ground, the diving instructor unclipped them and was quick to make sure Wyatt was actually okay, who waved him off with some annoyance in his voice. “I’m fine, I’m fine, like I said,” he insisted, spotting Charlie in the distance and raising a hand to him. “Seriously. No mention of this to the glamrocker over there. He’d never let me live it down.” The diver eyed him suspiciously but then caved, content that he was at least okay right now, and not wanting to get involved with his personal life. 

“That was fuckin’ nuts,” Wyatt laughed as his friend neared, already having shrugged off all the gear and helped his tandem diver gather it. There was a waiting bus to take them back to the air strip they’d taken off from, and once all was ready, they started their walk over to it. “Still think I prefer bein’ down here, though. How ‘bout you?”

—

Charlie had shrugged off the gear as soon as he was on the ground, happy to be unclipped from the total stranger, but grinned and gave a thumbs up to them as they clapped him on the back and congratulated him on his first successful jump. First and probably only, he suspected. As he reached Wyatt, he looked the man over and then gave Wyatt a thumbs up. “And we lived to tell the tale, didn’t we?” He added with a smirk as he watched Wyatt remove his gear. 

There was a look in his instructor’s eyes that made him suspect that something went awry, but either didn’t read too much into it to notice, or thought the dude was just having an off day. “Everything go okay up there?” He asked with a raised brow. “Your chute worked? Didn’t contemplate death?” He smirked at Wyatt before they began walking over to the bus. 

“Thanks for joining, by the way.” He spoke as they shuffled into one of the bus rows. “I mean, a lot of people would have said no, but not your ass.” Charlie couldn’t help but laugh and roll his eyes. “I mean, you seem to always have something you’re up to, I felt like you were the best possible choice for this.” Charlie kicked a leg over the other, feeling strange to be in more athletic wear than his normal grunge rock style. 

He spent a few minutes taking down his ponytail and taming his unruly mess of curls. “I think it’s a lost cause,” he complained before throwing his hair back into a ponytail. “There’s no fixing that level of windswept wonder.” He muttered with the pony holder between his teeth as he scooped all the hair up into place, then tied it back. “Maybe next time we’ll do a grounded activity, huh?” 

—

“Oh yeah, it was peachy,” Wyatt deflected again, wearing a grin and falling in step with his friend. As they boarded the bus and sat in a row of seats together, Wyatt scoffed. “Oh, c’mon, there you go accusin’ me of havin’ this crazy secret life again,” he laughed, draping his arm over the back of Charlie’s seat and crossing one ankle over his knee. He did have a secret life, and he’d had one back when they first met, too. Maybe he wasn’t as good at hiding the injuries as he thought, or coming up for excuses some nights on why he couldn’t go out. He was a good liar, he thought, but maybe the people that knew him best started to see through that in their own way. 

Maybe that’s why he tried not to let anyone get to know him like that anymore.

“But yeah, man, of course. It was fun! I’m always down to do reckless shit with you. The spice of life, n’ all that.” Watching Charlie struggle with his hair for a couple minutes, the shifter wore an amused smirk. “Yeah. Hey, you ever been scuba diving?”

—

“I didn’t accuse!” Charlie spoke, putting up his hands in mock surrender. “I mean, if you did, that’d be kind of badass, but I’d be offended that you didn’t tell me. You have to have someone in your corner, right? I’ll always be in your corner.” He nudged Wyatt with a smirk. “It seems like everyone in this town has a secret,” he then muttered mostly as an aside to himself, looking out the window as the scenery changed from an open field to a forest of trees. “Again, no knock against a secret life or anything, you’re just out living your life a lot. I’m jealous, I think.” Charlie then admitted, wishing he always had somewhere to be, people to see. Something to run away from. 

“Glad to hear that, because you’re never going to get rid of me at this rate. Especially now that we’re roommates.” Charlie broke out into a huge, genuine grin. “Scuba diving? Nah, I haven’t.” Charlie admitted after giving up on his hair. “But that could be fucking sick, come to think of it. That next on the list of adventures?” He wiggled his brows at the idea. 

It felt nice to have someone that wanted to do things with him, someone that was willing to be stupid instead of holding him back. Charlie had to do this. He couldn’t sit idle with his thoughts as he waited for people to do a job they were never going to solve. He needed to start looking for answers, needed to find out who killed his friends. He tapped his foot restlessly as he got lost in the thoughts, unaware of his furrowing brow as he began to stare out the window again, a million miles away. Somewhere where his friends were still alive instead of living a life with a friend he’d lost contact with once upon a time. 

Charlie shook his head, breaking himself out of the spiraling thought process. “I’ve been thinking of getting into rock climbing again,” he spoke, more to fill the silence that was plaguing his thoughts than anything else. “Used to do it once upon a time, thought what the fuck, you know?” 

—

“Hey, so are you! This was your idea, after all! You’re out there livin’ it too, don’t be so hard on yourself,” Wyatt chuckled. “Anyway, yeah, I think we should try scuba next! You can do it to certain depths with some quick lessons, I think. Water’s gonna be cold as fuck out here, but whatever, I’ll deal.” He didn’t love the cold, which Charlie could probably now surmise was on account of his being cold-blooded. But that’s what dry suits were for! 

Wyatt leaned back against the cushion behind them, and seeing as he was terribly bisexual, he couldn’t sit like a normal person for more than a minute, so he hiked one knee up to his chest and hooked the heel of his shoe on the edge of the seat. His arms draped across the top of the little bus bench, one dangling in the aisle, the other finding a home across Charlie’s shoulders. 

“Yeah? You should. Plenty of rocks ‘round here to climb! Never done that myself, since… honestly, heights ain’t my favorite,” he admitted with a laugh. “But as I’ve proven today, I’m capable of suckin’ it up! You’ll have to teach me the ways of the reverse spelunker.”

—

Charlie nodded his head slowly, unsure how he could deal with underwater exploration. Still, he’d try anything once, right? It was about the rush, the experience. “Sure, I’d be down to try it.” He decided with a grin. It was easy to push the fear away when it came to his situation. He just had to remind himself why he was doing it. He was doing it for all the experiences his friends would never have, he was doing it because he cared about living his life to the absolute maximum. “Well we won’t know until we give it a try,” he spoke, thinking of the cold water. He wasn’t big on the cold, but that’s what the wetsuits were for, right?

He watched as Wyatt relaxed in his seat, not paying much mind as he got lost in his thoughts about his friends and what they’d never be able to experience again. He blinked, forcing the thoughts to the backburner. “You sit like an idiot,” Charlie mentioned with a smirk as Wyatt’s arm wrapped around his shoulders. It was easy to tease his friend, it felt like being with his bandmates. He missed the closeness of it all. 

“Yeah, that’s how you get yourself hurt, idiot.” Charlie remarked with a roll of his eyes and nudging himself into Wyatt playfully. “So scuba diving next.” He spoke thoughtfully, settling into his seat a little more. “I’m not taking you on more height adventures, you’ll hate it again.” He decided, wagging a finger at him. “Or we can set shit on fire again, that was fun.” He wiggled his brows playfully at the other. 

“World’s our fuckin’ oyster, isn’t it?” He decided aloud, deciding that he was glad he’d found someone that was willing to live life a little crazy like he did. Maybe even crazier, considering Wyatt was a contracted fighter. Charlie tried not to think about Wyatt hurt beyond repair, hurt and killed like his friends… He couldn’t suppress the shudder that went through him. “Just as long as you’re more careful than I am with these things.” He decided, giving Wyatt a serious look for a moment, holding his gaze. “I have a second shot at things, you don’t.” 

—

“Excuse you, I sit like a perfectly reasonable person,” Wyatt argued with a laugh. “And I didn’t hate this! It just, you know, freaked me out for a sec. Just a second.” A lie, but a white one, right? Didn’t matter. “Do love settin’ shit on fire, though, that’s true… always game for that.” A thought struck him and he chuckled to himself, leaning his head back over the seat and staring at the roof of the bus as they bounced along the dirt road. “Bet I’d be a faster climber than you, though. Especially if I was…” He dared not say it aloud here with strangers about, even if the rumble of the bus engine would likely drown it out. So instead he just rolled his head to the side, looking at Charlie and giving him a playful wink. “You know.”

The mood sombered slightly at Charlie’s warning, and Wyatt was compelled to straighten his back a bit, lifting his head from the seatback and giving his friend an amused but tired smile. “I’ll be fine, Charlie. I always am. Like I said… been at it since I was knee-high to a cricket. Never lost a fight. Never.” That wasn’t a lie, though he had come close a few times. “Not about to start now!” His attention shifted to his friend’s messy ponytail as his fingers rose to idly play with his hair, that smirk remaining on his lips. “You’re cute when you worry ‘bout me, y’know that?”

—

“Perfectly reasonable, uh-huh.” Charlie shot back with an amused expression as he rolled his eyes as hard as he could. It was easy being around Wyatt. Falling back into another friendship like he had with Finn. “I know you like setting shit on fire,” Charlie replied with a smile spreading across his face. “It’s almost like I’m good at paying attention.” He wiggled his fingers as if it were some mystical secret instead of just being very attentive to his friends. 

Wyatt’s come-on was met with a mirthless snort and a roll of Charlie’s eyes. “Insatiable and reasonable,” Charlie remarked, turning to Wyatt and nudging him with his elbow. It wasn’t unwelcomed, of course. Charlie was currently riding the high of the adrenaline coursing through his system. “Yeah, I think I’ve got a pretty good idea,” Charlie responded with a smirk, leaning forward to bonk his forehead against Wyatt’s and pulling away to sit back in his seat. 

Charlie frowned as Wyatt spoke of never losing. There was always a first time for everything, and even the mighty must fall, as Charlie had recently learned the hard way. His eyes followed Wyatt’s fingers as they moved to play with his hair. “I’m not cute.” Charlie protested, wanting desperately to make himself appear bigger and less, well, Charlie. “And I worry about you because I know you don’t.” Charlie flicked Wyatt’s nose with an unamused gaze cast in the other’s direction. “You’re important to me, y’know? That’s all.” He spoke, trying to dismiss the wholesomeness of it all with a wave of his hand.

—

“Mmm… if you say so,” Wyatt teased the other gently, but his expression softened (in spite of the flick to his nose, which, rude) as Charlie expressed honest, earnest concern for his well being. He put his foot back on the floor of the bus, not minding the other passengers that were scattered among the open seats as he leaned closer to Charlie and pressed a kiss to his temple. “Hey,” he spoke gently against his friend’s hair, “I know. I’ll be careful.” The arm that was still draped about his roommate’s shoulders pulled him close to Wyatt’s side, and the gentle expression he wore returned to something more familiar to him: a knowing smirk. “You keep touchin’ my face like that… you might as well smooch it. Don’t be coy, boy.” His grin widened. “I think I got an idea for how you can help my nerves from the jump when we get home, eh?” 

Insatiable, indeed.

#`Free-Falling #threads #loftylockjaw #t;loftylockjaw

[burnwater13]

Trigger Warning: This story contains references to blood and theft. It's not gory or gruesome, but I get how some folks might not care for it. You have now been warned. Proceed at your own risk and don't worry. Grogu is fine.

Grogu had very mixed feelings about Moff Gideon’s recitation of his better qualities. Yes, he was gifted. He’d heard that from his masters at the Jedi Temple more than once. Yes, he’d been told that he would be able to bring order back to the galaxy. He was surprised that a person as completely devoid of kindness, consideration, and the ability to care about others was saying anything that seemed that nice about him. It was completely out of character. 

But what was within character was the real context of that statement. Moff Gideon wanted to use Grogu’s special qualities to benefit himself and his strange vision of what the galaxy could be. That’s right. He wanted to steal more of Grogu’s blood. More of it because he hadn’t stolen enough of it already. Poor planning on his part is what Grogu had grumbled under his breath.

Grogu could deal with all sorts of theft. Steal his food, well, you’re probably pretty hungry. Dung worms aren’t for every one.  Steal his clothing and again, you must be looking for something a very small baby could wear or needed to outfit a dozen Anzellans. But to steal his blood just meant that you were a thief. It had no other use for you and while Grogu wasn’t a huge fan of nudity, if someone else needed his coverall he’d be glad to let them have it, but he was using his own blood and didn’t really have much to spare and Dr. Pershing had already taken that amount. 

Grogu understood some of the basic uses for another person’s blood. There were things in it that might help other people get well if they were sick. You might use to certify a pact made with another person, like the time he and his friend Ian were running around and fell and both got abrasions on the palms of their hands. They thought it looked cool, even if it hurt and when Ian helped Grogu to his feet, their palms touched and their cuts healed. That was very cool. They swore not to tell the masters about it because neither one of them wanted to heal the blisters that a certain librarian was constantly complaining about because the two boys were running her off her feet. But if you were tired of having your cheeks pinched then you needed to run. You just did.

At least this time the Mandalorian understood what was at stake. He understood that the Imps wanted to conduct experiments on him and that they had almost killed him the last time. That had really ignited something in the bounty hunter. Grogu supposed that if what the Mandalorian had seen when he returned to the Client’s base of operations was Grogu reunited with his family or playing with other children or even eating a big pile of froglets, the bounty hunter would have been content and gone back on his way. 

But as soon as the Mandalorian saw the crumpled up pram, he knew that something was wrong. Then he confirmed it. Grogu had been rescued and the Mandalorian had become his de-facto protector. Grogu supposed that even a Mandalorian bounty hunter realized that using children like that was not ‘The Way’. 

Now the bounty hunter was putting up with Moff Gideon giving him a recital about stuff he already knew and understood. Grogu was special. He was unique. He was blessed. He had a metric ton of potential. But Grogu was pretty sure that Moff Gideon and the Mandalorian had very different ideas about what those qualities actually were.

Grogu had saved the bounty hunter from being crunched by the Mudhorn, even though he had barely known the human then. He had healed the Mandalorian’s injuries. He had annoyed and amused him by taking the silver knob from the Razor Crest. They had become friends over time and while it was clear to Grogu that the Mandalorian made friends easily enough, none of them traveled with him and Grogu could sense how lonely the human was. He was happy to cure that problem.  

That’s really what they meant to one another. They were friends who sorted out each other’s problems. Which they both liked and appreciated. No matter what else Moff Gideon said, it was completely clear to anyone present that what the Moff wanted wasn’t friendship. He didn’t want kindness. He didn’t want a companion. Nope. He wanted power and the silly thing was that everything he turned his back on was real, lasting power. The power to connect. That was what the Force was all about. Connection between all living things. And Grogu knew that his connection with the Mandalorian was what was best for the both them and the galaxy. It was also pretty great to have a dad now. He’d been missing one of them.

#calendar prompt a day #the mandalorian #grogu #din djarin