#the helmet block lmao

[vivwritesfics]

Ratatouille This Bitch

The Uni work i've done makes no sense to me so max gets a pet fic (out of all of the pet fics this is maybe the pet i want the post) (realistically bc i can't be owning a shetland)

F1 Masterlist

y/nl/n

liked by charles_leclerc, and 234,912 others

y/nl/n anybody tells max I got us a rat ur dead

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landonorris pookie you know he can see this right?

charles_leclerc IS THIS WHAT YOU MEANT BY MAX JR I THOUGHT YOU WERE TELLING ME YOU WERE PREGNANT

y/nl/n ur literally commenting on a picture of my son like i didn't give birth to him

username1 didn't max say he wanted a dog next?

username2 don't you guys have cats?

username3 lmao this is gonna be a disaster

maxverstappen1 IS THIS WHY DANIEL AND CHARLES WERE CONGRATULATING ME?

maxverstappen1 pls pick up the phone I BEG

maxverstappenjr

liked by y/nl/n and 24,182 others

maxverstappenjr mom teaching me to read ✌✌💖💖💋💋💋💗💗📚📚📚👓👓👓👓

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username4 guys max isn't in the likes or comments - im assuming the worst

username5 yeah but the rat is still named after him

username6 yeah pretty sure most girls don't name their beloved pet after their ex

landonorris surprised he hasn't been eaten by a cat yet

y/nl/n you're doubting my parenting skills?

maxverstappenjr

liked by maxverstappen1 and 35,934 others

maxverstappenjr update: dad gave me a cracker, i think he's starting to like me

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username7 oh to be max verstappens pet rat eating crackers

y/nl/n my boys

charles_leclerc bring him to a grand prix

landonorris put him in max's car danielricciardo let him fulfil his destiny y/nl/n blocked, all of you

username8 oh my god i just noticed they named him max jr, iconic

mv1_mv33

liked by username9 and 129 others

mv1_mv33 three stages of max finding out about max jr (pictured)

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username9 bet

maxverstappenjr yeah but he loves me now

username10 omg max jr responded

username11 max jr, i'm glad your father has love for you maxverstappenjr fank

maxverstappenjr

liked by danielricciardo and 50,293 others

maxverstappenjr update: dad has become the favourite parents, is currently trying to convince mum that i need a brother

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username12 i did not see this coming

username13 max jr, how did you win over max sr?

maxverstappenjr love and dedication maxverstappenjr and i shat in uncle daniels hand

y/nl/n we need an army

landonorris so they can shit on daniel?

y/nl/n and you (nobodies safe)

maxverstappen1 definitely need more

maxverstappen1 we can then bring our army to the monaco grand prix

y/nl/n you and our rat army can be teammates

username14 omg they're gonna put a rat in max's helmet and ratatouille this bitch

#max verstappen #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x reader smut #max verstappen smut #max verstappen smau #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula one #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #f1 smau #mv1 #mv1 imagine #mv1 x reader #mv33 #mv33 imagine #mv33 x reader

[lowkeyrobin]

Charlie Slimecicle x Reader

But its like streaming together for the first time and its just really sweet while he teaches you to play Minecraft:)

<3

yesyeysysysyyseyyseseysyes this is actually my first time writing for him other than that one sorry boys preference 😭🙏 ; I had no idea how to get from point a to point b so I'm so sorry lmao

SLIMECICLE ; minecraft tutorial

summary ; charlie teaches you how to play minecraft on stream

warnings ; language

genre ; fluff

word count ; 758

masterlist

You met Charlie in your freshman year of high school, and finally, by your senior year, you were dating. Now, at twenty-five, you were happy with your lives and peacefully living. He was a full-time content creator, and you were working at a department store, just a job to pay for classes to get the degree you were hoping to get.

You'd appeared in a stream or video here and there. You were relatively camera shy and didn't like disturbing your boyfriend while he was working, so you didn't show your face to his fans very much other than Instagram posts.

But, he'd gotten the genius idea to invite you on his stream and teach you how to play Minecraft. You knew stuff here and there about the game, but not a lot. All you really knew was blocks and the insane amount of friends he had, and eggs.

You sit down in a chair next to him, picking at your fingers as he begins the stream, giving you a warm welcome for chat. You give the camera a wave, looking to Charlie as he explains why you're here and what you'll be doing.

"Okay, so WASD is to move, mouse is to look around"

"Okay" You nod, using the mouse to look around, seeing you'd spawned in a dark oak biome. "Oooo, I like this place. Wait, this is one of those biomes you were playing in VR with Traves and Schlatt"

He nods and chuckles, "Yeah, yeah. Hold down the left mouse button to break blocks and get some wood."

You nod, doing as he says, gathering the dark oak wood. "I'm guessing walking, talking egg children are QSMP only" You joke, taking notice of the lack of eggs.

"Honestly, there is two types of eggs but they don't walk or talk, if that's any better?"

"Two?"

"Chicken eggs and the Ender Dragon's egg"

"Oh!"

You progress through the game a bit, getting better as you play.

You're now wielded with iron tools, golden boots from a nether portal ruin, and an iron helmet. Charlie speaks about the nether, which got you in a bit of a panic since, yes, you wanted to try and beat the game, but you didn't want to die and lose all your items, either. You definitely weren't loaded enough to go try and get a bunch of blaze rods and trade for ender pearls, so you decided to explore the massive caves to try and find diamonds and more iron, for now.

Charlie watches you, proudly. He shows you all the tips and tricks and teaches you what items do, how they work, and how to craft them.

"Oh, get out! Get out! That's a warden cave, out! Go! Go, go!" He exclaims, eyes widening.

"What?" You ask, quickly backing up as you look at the torch light illuminating the dark blue blocks. You hear a rustling sound in the headphones and quickly panic, running back where you came from.

"Wardens are so OP, dude, you'll get demolished. The abandoned cities have awesome gear and loot, though"

"Then let's go get it!"

"The wardens, Y/n"

You slowly look between him and the screen, and quickly type a little /gamemode peaceful in chat, switching the game mode.

"Y/n!" He giggles, "I thought you didn't wanna cheat"

"Well, I want rare shit. Thank your chat, dude." You shrug with a smile, heading back down towards the abandoned city.

You end up finding nearly a stack of diamonds down there, plus a bunch of enchanting books and music discs. Charlie was hyping you up the whole time and deflecting the fact you were in peaceful, using the responses of "they're scaring the wardens away" and "the wardens are there, they're just hiding" for the bit.

"Okay, I think I got everything"

"Oh, you don't leave"

"Huh?"

"You never leave.. you never leave once you enter" He begins to do the dark and scary voice while he quickly types in the /gamemode hard into chat, summoning a few wardens around you.

You yelp and quickly sprint away, taking a solid five hearts of damage from one hit. You're unable to turn the game back to peaceful as you try your best to run away. You attempt to build straight up but are hit again, killing you.

All your items burst out of your inventory as you stare at the 'You died!' screen, jaw hanging agape. You slowly turn your head towards the brunette next to you as chat explodes with comments.

"Charlie!"

#lowkeyrobin #mcyt x reader #mcyt preferences #mcyt oneshot #charlie slimecicle x reader #slimecicle x reader #charlie slimecicile #jschlatt x reader #sorry boys #sorry boys x reader #gn reader #gender neutral reader #mcyt x gn reader #lunch club x reader #lunch club

[intrstellarhearts]

the tuffest chick in tulsa - the outsiders x curtis sister!reader

fandom: the outsiders

type of writing: headcanons / scenario

word count: 1094

request: yes / no  

characters: reader, darry curtis, sodapop curtis, ponyboy curtis, dallas winston, johnny cade, two-bit mathews, steve randle

original request: do you mind doing the outsiders crew with a curtis sister!reader where she’s older than ponyboy but younger than soda. basically, the reader is short and the gang (except her brothers) don’t expect her to be very strong but in reality she’s really strong and does roller derby, baseball, wrestling, etc. just a little scenario or headcanons of the boy’s reactions to being shown up by a 15 yo :)

a/n: ty for this request!! i forgot how much i loved writing for the outsiders lol. just wanted to say that requests are super helpful, bc i often have writer’s block lmao. just send me an ask & i’ll write it!! (rn i have a lot of motivation to write for the outsiders, dead poets society and house md!!) again, these could be scenarios or headcanons, and can include the reader or not! the only rule i have is no nsfw :)

taglist: none right now for the outsiders!! (message me or send me an ask if you’d like to be included!!)

--------------------✰--------------------

“alright, c’mon ace! you can do it … go go go!!”

you bit back a smile at the loud cheers coming from your brother sodapop. a quick glance told you that he was right there, next to the dugout, with your other brother, ponyboy. you wondered if maybe darry got off of work in time to see you, but the quick call of the umpire quickly snapped your attention back to the task at hand. the sun was beating down on that hot april afternoon, and a bead of sweat came down your forehead. you adjusted your stance on home base, making sure your grip on the bat was tight. the game was tied, and you it was up to you to win. then the pitcher made his move, and there you were, swinging your bat. 

“y/n! run! c’mon!!” 

you were running alright. and now you ran even faster, having heard darry’s voice cheering you on. this was where you belonged, on the diamond. you could see the other team scramble for the ball, your own teammates cheering as you rounded the bases easily. one of the outfielders tried to throw the ball to the boy on third base, but it wasn’t going to phase you. gritting your teeth, you had an explosion of speed, and slid onto home base just in time. your teammates erupted into cheers as the game ended. you took off your helmet, a big grin taking over your face. you nodded to your brothers, and went over to get a drink of water.

you teammates were there to congratulate you, slapping you on the back and mussing up your hair. as the only girl on your school’s baseball team, you had quickly shown the boys that you were nothing to be messed with. growing up with three brothers, as well as the pseudo-brothers in your gang, you were way tougher than anyone thought. although, many of the boys in your gang still thought of you as fragile and delicate, despite years of showing them otherwise.

“aw, y/n, that was an AMAZING game!!” came the excited yell of your brother ponyboy as he bounded over to you, followed close behind by ponyboy and darry. 

“thanks, soda.” you said, and you couldn’t hide a smile. you took a hand to your cheek, trying to wipe some of the grease paint off. 

“here, use this.” darry said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a couple tissues. one glace at him told you that he had come straight from work. he looked tired, but happy. “good job, kid. now give me that bat. we need somethin’ to eat.”

“how about the dingo?” you asked, handing darry the bat and your helmet, then taking a swig of water.

“aw, y/n, i don’t wanna go to the dingo.” ponyboy said, shaking his head.

“did you hit the winnin’ run today, pony?” you grinned, nudging your younger brother. “i didn’t think so!!” you, darry, and soda began to walk away, towards the road that would get you to the diner. ponyboy hung his head, kicking the dirt on the diamond, but he followed the three of you after a moment. 

the dingo wasn’t exactly the BEST place to hang out, but they could make a damn good milkshake and fries. plus, without steve there, you would finally be able to have food to yourself, instead of him stealing it all the time! it was a short walk from the diamond -- only about ten minutes. however, as you got closer, a familiar truck in the parking lot caught your eye.

“oh n-” you started, but they were already runnin’ towards you. of course the gang was here. of course. in the blink of an eye, two-bit and steve had already tackled soda and pony, and dally and johnny came over to you.

“how come your forehead has that bruise, shortcake?” dally said, leaning in to check it out. you had almost forgotten about it yourself, since it had happened earlier in the week.

“oh, nothin’, dal.”

“doesn’t look like nothin’.” johnny muttered, brow drawn with concern.

“aw, tell ‘em, y/n. it’s a good story!!” pony spoke loudly, dusting himself off as he got up, finally. you shifted your weight, suddenly seeming a bit less confident than usual.

“lemme guess.” two-bit started, and you turned to face him, an amused smile on your face. “you probably slipped or somethin’.”

“aw, lay off two. she ain’t that bad on her feet!!” steve said, punching him in the arm. the gang turned towards you expectantly, pony flashing a huge grin.

“well, i had a baseball game. not the one from today, it was a couple days ago. this guy on the other team started callin’ me names. y’know, stupid stuff. i didn’t think it would bother me. well, the ump started to tell me to shut up, all i was sayin’ was for him to stop!”

“and then what’d ya say?” johnny asked, completely invested.

“so then i get to third base. i decide not to go to home, ‘cause that would be too close of a call, y’know? so i’m on third base, and this jackass…” you quickly fixed your words after a stern look from darry. “this… guy thinks he’s all tough or somethin’. i try to go and run, but he trips me! i fell and hit my head and everything. the ump didn’t catch it, so i got up. he’s laughin’ so hard, and all i’m thinkin’ is that i wish he would shut up. so then i punched him.”

steve did a double take at that, and your smile grew. 

“that shut him up pretty quickly.”

“shut him up?” pony began, excitement boiling over. “shut him up??? he was about to cry!”

“yeah!” soda agreed, illustrating by mocking the bully’s crying. “just like this. he ran off to the umpire, who totally called him on his problems.”

“hey, good for you, kid.” dallas spoke, nodding approvingly.

“wow.” johnny remarked, nodding as well.

“i didn’t even think you had it in you!!” steve spoke, messing up your hair. you made a fist to him, and he flinched. 

“yeah, you better watch it randle!!” darry cleared his throat, and you put it down. “sorry.”

“maybe you should be our bodyguard from now on!” two-bit remarked, throwing an arm around your neck as you all made your way to the entrance of the dingo. “y/n curtis, the tuffest chick in tulsa!"

"and don't you forget it!" you remarked, grinning from ear to ear.

--------------------✰--------------------

#the outsiders #dallas winston #johnny cade #darry curtis #darrel curtis #ponyboy curtis #sodapop curtis #two bit mathews #steve randle #the outsiders x reader #the outsiders x curtis sister!reader #curtis sister #dally winston #the outsiders scenario #the outsiders curtis sister #the outsiders imagines #the outsiders headcanons

[anopenbookunderlockandkey]

The 118 Group Chat

3 geniuses and Buck

Buck: Edwardo

Eddie: Not my name, not anyone’s name, stop

Buck: sparkling, strong famous vampire Edward Anthony Cullen

Eddie: I’m blocking your number

Chim: Buck, please don’t tell me May has indoctrinated you with Twilight

Buck: well you let Maddie get into your movie marathons so

Hen: *team Jacob gif*

Eddie: what did you want Buck?

Buck: where did you put the recipe for Chris’ culture day project? I know you took it

Hen: must you have this conversation in the group chat

Eddie: part of it needed to be adjusted! I put it in the front pocket of his backpack with edits

Buck: Christopher is going to kill you if the tres leches comes out wrong

Eddie: Christopher made tres leches with me and Abuela last month so he knows better

Buck: why is there a wooden spoon in here too?

Eddie: that is Abuela’s special mixing spoon, it makes it taste better, don’t @ me

Buck: since when do you believe in that stuff?!

Chim: seize the imposter!

Chim: hey, what do you think of this photo for the hot fire fighters calendar? *attached image of Chim in a fitted LAFD shirt bending down to take a dandelion from a child wearing his helmet (Jee, back turned to the camera) offering it to him*

Chim: I was going for Mr. April showers turned May flowers who is a lovable family man whose daughter is the cutest and wants to follow in my footsteps because women can do anything men can and probably can do it better but don’t have to leave historical femininity like liking flowers behind but also is fighting gender norms by giving a man the flower and I am of course going to accept because how could you say no to that cute little girl

Buck: 🥹 man you took me there

Eddie: AHSHRKDOSNSHDK

Hen: Chim, you broke them

Chim: that was all Jee, she has her uncles wrapped around her finger lmao

…Inspired by me listening to Red White and Royal Blue on repeat to focus at work. Thank you Casey McQuiston.

As always for @professionalprocrastinator22 and @gravelyhalversobbing

#things i decided i could make about 911 #can’t stop won’t stop #911 fic #911 fanfic #text fic #rwrb #rwarb #incorrect 911 quotes #911 abc #911 fox

[jamietarttsnorthernattitude]

Drabble prompt-

“You dumbass. Don’t do that. Ever again.”

I think I did it! I think I actually wrote a drabble. And crossed off another @badthingshappenbingo square!

UPDATE: I did not do it lmao

UPDATE2: Now on ao3 so I can have everything together.

Jamie Tartt was going to be the death of him.

“You dumbass. Don’t do that. Ever again.”

Roy pressed his thumb and index finger against the bridge of his nose and sighed deeply.

“What was I supposed to do?” Jamie scoffed.

“Not that!” Roy said, trying to keep his voice down but failing.

“You were going to fucking fall!”

“Your fucking point?” Roy asked, psychotic eyebrows shooting nearly to his hairline.

“Didn’t want you to get hurt,” Jamie pouted.

“So you got hurt instead?”

“Didn’t think that part through, did I?”

“No fucking shit.”

“Well, innit better me than you and your old man bones? They’re probably just dust in there held together by anger and stubbornness. My bones are young and strong.”

“Jamie your wrist is broken.”

“I told you I didn’t think it through, alright?”

Jamie adjusted the ice pack on his wrist. The pair had been having a similar conversation on and off since they arrived at A&E. All the trouble started on a bike ride. They were nearing the coffee shop by Keeley’s office, intent on bringing her and Barbara coffee and pastries while they worked on their latest campaign.

They were bike riding when Roy’s tire caught a divot. He started to tip and Jamie lept off his bike to try to catch Roy before he landed on his bad knee. And it worked. Roy didn’t land on his bad knee, unfortunately, all Roy’s weight landed on Jamie’s outstretched wrist instead. Ice packs and x-rays replaced coffees and scones.

So much for an uneventful off-season.

“Next time, maybe wrist guards, knee and elbow pads for everyone. And helmets. Definitely helmets,” Ruth said, pulling back the curtain where the pair sat waiting. “I’m afraid I have bad news.”

“Fuck.”

“That is my diagnosis. Yes.”

“Fucking professional. Is it really broken?”

Ruth turned her ipad to show the pair the x-ray and pointed. “Unfortunately, yes. You can see the break right there.”

“Fuuuuuuuuuck,” Roy and Jamie said simultaneously.

“Told you.”

“Fuck off.”

Ruth rolled her eyes. “There’s minor displacement, so I can reduce it and then we’ll get you in a cast and get you out of here a soon as we can.”

True to her word, Jamie and Roy are waiting for Ruth an hour later, Jamie’s broken wrist secured in a cast and sling.

“You’re such a dumbass,” Roy said again.

“Stop calling me that,” Jamie said and Roy began to feel badly.

The situation seemed to sink in for Jamie once the cast was applied. The nerve block meant he wasn’t in too much pain but that wouldn’t last and right now the lad just looked uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry. I just, I hate seeing you hurt and especially when it was my fault.”

“How was it your fault?” Jamie asked skeptically.

“You were trying to catch me. Did you hit your fucking head too?”

“It were an accident, Roy. If anyone’s to blame it’s the fucking pot hole you drove through. Thinking of writing a strongly worded letter to our boy Sadiq Khan about the maintenance of London’s roads.”

“I’m impressed you know who the Mayor is.”

“Fuck off. Met him at one of the England matches couple of weeks ago.”

“I’m sorry,” Roy said again then motioned vaguely at Jamie. ”About all this.”

“I told. you, it were an accident,” Jamie shrugged then winced as it jostled his injured wrist.

“Ready lads?” Ruth appeared holding a bag with pain medication she handed to Roy.

“We picking Phoebe up?” Jamie asked.

“I can drive you home first if you want?”

The bikes were abandoned after the incident and they’d taken a taxi to the hospital, thankful Ruth’s shift ended as they were ready to leave.

“Let’s get Phoebe and then Roy said he’d buy us all kebabs, didn’t you, Royo?”

“When the fuck did I say that?”

“You did. Felt bad on account of landing on me and all.”

“Right, yeah,” Roy said as he helped Jamie into Ruth’s Range Rover and buckled him in, careful of his sling. “But seriously, don’t do that again, yeah?”

“No promises, mate.”

One way or another, Jamie Tartt was going to be the death of him.

#thank you friend! #i wrote about a thousand words as a follow up to my first drabble #but that seemed a bit harsh since in it jamie just woke from a (spoiler alert) coma #so i wrote this instead! #whump #whump prompt #jamie tartt #roy kent #bad things happen bingo #accidentally hurt by a friend #ted lasso fanfic #writing prompt #drabble #i think #ao3

[yasmindifference]

snippet sunday

actually got some writing done this week, yay! hopefully i’ll have at least one thing to post for jaytim week lmao

“So,” Hood says, “what the fuck are you doing here?”

���What do you think?” Tim asks. “You need stitches, moron.”

The helmet’s voice modulator turns Hood’s annoyed noise into a screech of static.

“You can’t see it, but I’m rolling my eyes,” Hood informs him.

“You can’t see it, but so am I,” Tim says, doing so. “Where’s your nearest safehouse?”

Hood’s scoff makes it through loud and clear. “None of your business.”

In answer, Tim strikes out at Hood’s side—at the exact source of the white hot agony in his own. Hood blocks the move, but the suddenness of the block still sends a jolt of pain through them both…followed by a wave of vertigo that is not a good sign.

“You need stitches,” Tim repeats.

#snippet sunday #jaytim #yasmin's adventures in writing #this fic isn't FINISHED yet but i know how it ends #just gotta write it #i've got tomorrow off so hopefully i can finish then

[alpineglow]

Hiiiiii, I was wondering if you could write something about the character Kate Bishop? About her falling in love with a firefighter who is eight years older than her, and they go on dates and then become boyfriend and girlfriend, and they have a lovely relationship, please and thank you. :)

Sure thing!! I made Kate just a touch older (25, making Y/N 33). I don't normally write M!Reader- actually this the first time I'm writing x Reader fiction in general, so sorry if I screw anything up!! Normally I write character x character LMAO. Hope u enjoy!

It's a Goddamn Blaze in the Dark

Ship: Kate Bishop x Firefighter!M!Reader Word Count: ~1k Desc.: Being a firefighter in New York City isn't exactly what you'd call quiet. But you'd be damned if you could've guessed half the shit that follows Kate Bishop stumbling into your life.

Masterlist

9:15pm, April 19th

The building was already engulfed in flames by the time your ladder truck finally rolled around. Ambulances were amuck in the street, bussing out civilians half as quick as they flooded in.

"Y/N!"

You whip around to your Lieutenant, Hobbs, as you pull your respiratory kit over your shoulders.

"EMS is way overrun, you're reassigned. Take the medical kit, Calvin's meeting you on the East side of the building," Hobbs says quickly, rounding behind you to pull the tank off of your back.

"You got it, Hobbs. I'll radio when I'm over," you reply, taking the medical bag off of the truck and hauling it over your shoulder. Glancing to the building, you decide to leave your bunker gear and helmet on. Glass was blowing out across the facade, and if the acrid smell was anything to go by, there might be some debris to dodge.

Side-stepping a few EMS as they evacuate patients, you start rounding the building. Even through your gear, you can feel the heat radiating off of the brick and mortar of the building. The nearer firehouse had been battling this one for damn near an hour before calling in your crew for backup.

"Calvin! Incoming!" you shout as you round the building into the next street. A makeshift medical tent had been established outside of the collapse zone, and the street was closed off by police at both ends of the block. It was one of the only times you were thankful for them on scene.

An explosion crashes out above you from inside the top floors of the structure. Reflexively, you duck, ears ringing slightly as you recover. You squint against the light of the fire, looking desperately for its source.

Through the smoke billowing out of the foyer door, you see a pair of silhouettes, one supporting the other. Ignoring Calvin calling out for you, you dart forward through the doors. The heat of the room hits you first, and then the distinct realisation that you're not wearing your respirator.

You see them, just barely, and you reach out to take the weight of the casualty. Taking them in a fireman carry, you take the arm of the other, heaving the pair out of the door. Clean air has never smelled so good.

"Go! Keep going forward," you say hastily to the walking one. "Calvin! I got two casualties, prep medical! Smoke inhalation, among other things!"

Calvin's already on his way over, taking who you now see is a woman out of your arms, putting her on a medical bed and placing a mask over her face. You sweep your surrounds quickly, taking in the scene more fully this time. You spot your other casualty, resting her hands on her knees to catch her breath. She was in an odd purple costume, with a quiver and bow slung across her back.

"Ma'am, I need you to keep walking forward to the medical tent," you say, approaching her.

"What? No! No, no, I'm fine, I swear!" She's rather insistent, coughing a few times. On her shoulder was a scorched part of her uniform. Rather than argue, you take her forearm, leading her away from the debris zone.

"What's your name?" you ask, unzipping your medical bag to pull out antiseptic, gauze, and a few other tools. The woman watches you carefully, almost lost in her inner monologue for a moment.

"Ka- I mean- Hawkeye! I'm Hawkeye!" she rushes out, interrupting herself. You huff a laugh, reaching out to inspect her shoulder.

"I thought Hawkeye was a dude." You'd seen him recently with a sidekick, but you were doubtful they would both choose the same name.

"Yea, well he is... But I'm the other one," she mumbles, wincing slightly as the antiseptic makes contact with her burn.

"You're lucky this isn't a bad burn. Shouldn't have gone into that building, hero or not," you say, laying the gauze on top and using a bandage to affix it more firmly to the site. "I'm gonna check your throat real quick with this light. You cool with that?"

She nods, opening her mouth. You click the medical light on, taking your helmet off to get closer without smacking her in the head. God knows you've done that too many times. Thankfully, it didn't look raw.

"Looks like you're all clear, you're a lucky one, Hawkeye," you say, placing your equipment back into your bag and zipping it up. You glance over to her, noticing how she looks at you; with a strange sort of transfixion.

"I, uh-" she starts.

Calvin calls out your name from the street, where fresh casualties were being evacuated from the building. You swear under your breath.

"Sorry- I'm gonna need to go..." You trail off, as in the small amount of time you looked away, your mysterious Hawkeye was gone. In her place was a small note.

Call me (phone number) - Hawkeye

You tuck the note into your jacket pocket, before running over to where Calvin was ushering away civilians.

12pm, April 30th

The cafe you were currently situated in was a rather lovely hole-in-the-wall place, about a stone's throw away from Central Park. You were waiting on your date; your second date, actually, with a lovely girl named Kate Bishop. The very same girl you had helped out during a structure fire on the 19th.

The bell to the cafe chimed, and you looked up from your table. You smile as you catch Kate's eye, beckoning her over.

"It's so good to see you again!"

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I don't normally write fics like this, so if y'all would like a part 2, lmk!!

#Kate bishop #Marvel #Kate bishop x reader

[djarinsbeskar]

PAMARTHE ARC 3: HIREACH (HIGH-RAWK)

A/N: It has been a hot minute. I've been so busy with life and writing my novel that before I knew it, seven months have passed since I last updated my beloved story. I've felt the absence greatly. Through the difficulties in writing a manuscript, editing and the general breakdowns that go with it, I've longed to return to the story where my entire heart and soul lives. A terrible bout of writers block was only cured by returning to Stitches, and I cannot tell you how happy I am to be back. I can't promise updates will be as regular as they once were given my commitments to publishing, but I want to assure you all, this story is not abandoned. It never will be.

NOTE! If you'd like to keep up to date on the publication of A Sensual Summoning, you can follow me on tiktok @racheljroman, all my links are there -3-

Word Count: 13k.

Pairing: Din Djarin/Fem!Reader

Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)

Warings: Mentions of smut, general adult conversation, nothing too graphic for once. Mainly lore and world-building as I enjoyed playing in my sandbox for a while lmao.

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“We’ve slept in smaller.”

Din Djarin was not an optimist.

The fact he was trying to be one now told you just how dire the situation really was. Either that, or he needed to check the vision technology in his helmet if he thought for even a second you’d both be able to fit in your childhood bed.

Night had well and truly fallen by the time Din carried you back from Buck’s Cove, and lethargy from the day’s activities brought home the fact that you hadn’t decided where to sleep yet.

The first logical answer was your old room. That was safe, expected. You should’ve known it wouldn’t work when Din made the room shrink by simply stepping through the door. He paced the area curiously, evidently trying not to snoop beyond anything that was already visible, which wasn’t much.

Airy tones with dark blue accents lined the metal inlays of furniture. The built-in shelves taking up half your wall space were crammed full of datapads, ranging from medical journals and behemoth anatomy texts, to the passing interests you had over the years that demanded research to satiate your ever growing curiosity.

Your small desk space sat beside the shelves, unassuming and modest for the alter it once represented. Studying to get into a highly competitive medical program as a teenager and then later, to relearn medicine through the lens of combat and triage before joining the Rebellion. So much had come from the time you spent hunched over that desk.

 You watched Din’s gloved fingers trace over the surface of it now, pausing in his movement. Your heart seized, forgetting your current predicament, and you wondered briefly if he recognized the significance of the desk too.

What did he have to compare it to, you wondered. A training ring where he built his strength and stamina in order to bear the weight of his beskar? An armorers anvil that crafted the weapons of his Creed? How curious it was that both your life training – in medicine and weaponry alike – brought you to the same place. A battlefield.

Dropping your gaze back to the bed in question, you allowed him to continue his silent perusal in peace.

This bed was made for one person, namely; a child. It was fine when you were growing up, even as a young adult because it was just you. But throwing in a warrior like Din? He was big in every sense of the word, from his towering height to the breadth of his wide shoulders. You couldn’t even be sure the bed was long enough for a man like him. There was simply no way he’d fit.

“There’s always the floor,” he suggested gruffly upon returning to your side.

Though it was Din that said it, he didn’t sound overly enthusiastic at the idea of you sleeping on the ground. Not after what had just happened on the beach between you.

His hand, possessive and heavy, settled low on your towel-covered back. His heat bled into you immediately, your skin flushed from more than just the shower you’d both shared. His…affection in the aftermath of your release wasn’t new, but Stars, it felt different.

Maybe it was because you’d let him fuck your ass for the first time. It was still tender, a little achy but oh so satisfying when it jolted you with a phantom throb of how big he’d felt inside you.

The warrior had been stubborn, bundling you up in his arms to carry you back up those steep steps to the house. He’d carefully washed your skin of abrasive sand under the hot spray of the shower. Reverently. Working his way over every part of your body with unhurried strokes and heated kisses to your mouth and jaw as he did so. His hands never felt so soft as when they massaged soap into your tangled hair, rinsing it meticulously despite having no vision with the lights off.

It felt sacred. Purposeful. Like every action was another promise spoken in touch instead of words.

You’d never known the human body to be divine before then. A miracle, yes, but never divine. You’d seen people survive horrific accidents, overcome terrible injuries and recover from illnesses that had ravaged their immune systems and organs. But years spent weighing, measuring and observing every bodily component infinite times over removed any sense of mystery from it, and mystery – at least in your mind – was the essence of divinity.

But in that shower, as the Mandalorian worshipped every inch of you in the wake of your trust in letting him fuck you where no man had before, you realized everything you knew was superficial. A dimly lit corner of a shadowed room you had no idea was so huge. It was terrifying and exhilarating and not unlike being in love, now that you thought about it.

He’d left your heart squishy and soft without even realizing it. That might explain why you weren’t content to sleep on the floor the way you had been for the last year. You didn’t want that here. You wanted something…new for him to experience, something better. You wanted him to feel the way you had in that shower, even if it was only in the form of a soft mattress.

“No,” you said eventually, “come with me.”

Adjusting your towel to tuck the corner over your cleavage more securely, you dropped the other to wrap around his larger hand. He grunted, letting you lead him out of the bedroom and down the hallway to the back of the house. His pace slowed when he realized where you were bringing him.

“That room…?”

“…Has a bed big enough for the two of us,” you finished for him, recognizing his reluctance.

It wouldn’t have been hard for him to piece together that it was your parents room when he cleared the house earlier in the day. Whether his reluctance was out of respect for them – Llyrian rest their souls – or worry for the effect it might have on you, the sentiment was well meaning. But if you continued to skirt around the borders of your old life, refusing to enter it and tiptoeing over landmines of your own creation, your time here would be miserable.

This was your house, however uncomfortable the thought still made you. The master bedroom was where you wanted to sleep with your warrior. Not on the floor, or on a cramped single bed.

“I promise the mattress will be worth it,” you tempted him with a small smile and a squeeze to his hand.

Din cocked is head silently, his arm stretched between you where you stood a few steps ahead of him. His larger grip swallowed the size of your hand and with a long inhale, he relented, jerking his chin up for you to continue on.

With the shutters still closed across the wall of transparisteel overlooking the sea, the room became cozier under the golden glow of the light you flicked on. The bed, sitting in the center of the room, had been stripped of any linens, but the preservation shield had guarded the mattress and pillows well. You were nearly certain your mother kept an extra comforter in the trunk at the end of the bed for colder nights.

Maker, you hadn’t been in here for what felt like an eternity, since the day you left for the Rebellion. How tightly you’d hugged your mother as you both sat at the end of the bed, trying to stop the tears from falling when you felt hers stain your shoulder.

A small lump formed in the back of your throat at the memory, long buried and painful from how neglected it was. But you were tired, and the impact of the memory was less severe than it probably would’ve been had you come in here hours before. Thank Llyrian for small mercies.

Unlike in your bedroom, Din didn’t stray from where he stood. He waited and watched as the mist in your eyes warmed with lucidity when you shoved the memory away and walked around the edge of the bed to check the trunk for a blanket. Aha! You knew it. Thick and insulating, the maroon comforter was technically for winter, but it was better than nothing.

You tossed it one-handed onto the bed, the other still holding your towel. It was a miserable throw, the blanket a little heavier than you were expecting, so half of it ended up falling off the edge pitifully.

“Should I add hoverball to the list of things you’re bad at?” Din deadpanned, lightening the moon with his dry wit instantly.

You laughed sarcastically and you could hear the smile in the snort he released when he bent down to gather the comforter and toss it back up onto the bed. He stalled momentarily when he did, crouching down to get a better look at whatever caught his attention.

“What are these carvings?” he asked, glancing up when you made your way around to him.

Like the dining table your father had painstakingly sculpted for your mother when they got married, the bed carried his mark too. Void of external attributes of clan life, there were no leaping stags or regal lions to be found. Instead, fluid lines with minimal – yet deliberate – patterns followed the length of the base up to an untouched headboard of solid white wood.

“These are Llyrian’s waves,” you pointed out the sharper, stronger lines and then to the softer swells that intersected the waves, “and these are the winds of Amhra. Pamarthen deities.” You tagged on for Din’s benefit to a grunt of understanding from the Mandalorian.

The bed was for a couple. The wind and waves symbolic of Llyrian and Amhra’s eternal love brought to life. You convinced yourself it didn’t mean anything because Din wasn’t a part of the culture, the significance was null and void…right?

“There’s a lot of skill in the craftsmanship,” he hummed, “metal this dense is hard to work with.”

Pride bloomed in your chest at the comment, a smile spreading on your lips unwittingly. You nodded in agreement.

“My father was very skilled when it came to metalwork,” you told him, a hint of shyness you hadn’t been expecting to feel blossoming in your tone.

Din stood back to his full height, immediately dwarfing you with how close he was.

“Something tells me your father wouldn’t be happy about this,” he rumbled, his arm folding around your waist intimately, the towel loosening dangerously at being disturbed.

“Why do you say that?” you asked quietly, coy as he took a half-step closer. Even with all the space this new room afforded you, he still chose to be as close to you as if you were both still crammed in the Razor Crest.

You didn’t drop your gaze from his visor at the brush of his leather-clad fingers across the top of your towel. You held his hidden eyes when the tips of his fingers dipped behind where you’d tucked the soft material at your cleavage. He didn’t answer you, the impassivity of his helmet not concealing the smirk you knew lurked behind it. You could practically taste it curling against your lips the way you had so many times as he pulled whimpers and moans from you effortlessly.

Hooking his finger into the pylweave cotton, your towel fell down your body to pool at your feet and you stood bare before him once again. Freshly showered and still glowing from your release not long ago, your stomach clenched as you watched him watch you.

His head tipped to the side and you could feel the moment his eyes broke contact with yours to drop down your face and neck. Over your breasts where tight nipples peaked under his gaze. Across your stomach and the hips he loved to grab whether he was fucking you or not. Down between your thighs that shifted and squeezed together subconsciously at the intoxicating…exhibitionism of being perceived so fully, so hungrily by this man.

Din took his time, drinking his fill of your body in the light before he reached back a hand to plunge the bedroom back into darkness. Sight was one thing, but it could never surpass the ecstasy of taste for a man who spent so much of his life deprived of it.

The heavy clunk of his helmet on the bedside table set your heart racing before he dropped his mouth to your ear hotly, “Does any father like the man who defiles his daughter?” he whispered, his facial hair rasping over your sensitive skin and making you shiver pleasantly.

His hands fell to your hips then, turning you with him so that when he sat back on the bed, you could straddle him.

“Do you defile me, Din Djarin?” you sighed, his mouth finding the line of your clavicle to kiss and lick slowly.

“Every fucking day, kitten…” he growled into your skin, his words muffled from his reluctance to part from where he was sucking a nice new mark into your collarbone, “and when I’m asleep, I defile you in my dreams too.”

His answer had your stomach flipping, the savagery of the word turning you on far more than you anticipated it could. There was a sense of taboo around it, that you shouldn’t want it the way you did. But you wanted him to ruin you, you wanted to be fucked and filled and stained until you were fit for no one else but him. You wondered how long it’d take for his hand to find its way between your legs to see just how wet it had made you.

“In your dreams too?” you whispered, eyes rolling closed at the thought while Din lost himself in your scent and taste.

“Mhm… The things I do to you…the things I want to do to you,” he muttered, pausing on a groan when your fingers found their way into his hair, still wet from the shower.

When his lips dropped to wrap around one of your nipples, your head fell back on a gasp, pushing your breasts further into his face.

“You can,” you heard yourself exhale, dragging your nails down to the back of his neck, “you can do all of it.”

Whatever he read in your words stalled him, his muscles tensing with a hum of raw power. Releasing your nipple, he lifted his head to crash his lips to yours, dominating your mouth with an aggressive desperation that left you breathless. Or maybe that was just his tongue that plundered your mouth. Either way, you were dizzy and panting by the time he flipped you onto the mattress to settle between your legs.

“One day, kitten…one day.”

You woke up a few hours later, disoriented by the lack of engine noises and generators you were accustomed to on the Razor Crest. Din’s armored chest to your back, his steady breathing and the weight of his arm draped over your waist told you the warrior hadn’t sensed the same clatter that dragged you from sleep.

Maybe it was the bed that was too soft in comparison to the floor of the ship. Perhaps it was because you weren’t used to the roar of waves crashing against the cliffs anymore. Or maybe, it was instinct that compelled you to extract yourself from the warmth of Din’s hold in the middle of the night.

The comforter fell to your waist when you sat up, exposing your nudity and the sudden change in temperature tempted you to snuggle back into Din’s arms. He had opted to keep his armor on while he slept, at least for tonight. A planet was far more dangerous to his anonymity than hyperspace and you could appreciate it would take him time to understand you wouldn’t be disturbed this far north.

A shiver wracked you when your bare feet met the cool floor. Unlike the frigidity of space, a coastal night chill was more damp than it was cold. It could seep into skin and the cracks of buildings and while not nearly as cold as space or Maldo Kreis, it could cheat the mind into believing it was for a split second.

You reached blindly for the bag you packed, pulling one of the shirts you pilfered from Din out to wear under your short cape on the way to the door. Your bleary, sleep-laden mind was still trying to convince you to go back to bed though, providing erotic images of you crawling back up Din’s body, removing his helmet to kiss his…

A blank space fractured the realism of the dream and you refocused on the door.

No.

The solid wall of reluctance that rose in your mind startled you with its force, and your hand froze on the button. Pressing it open anyway, the hiss of the door sliding open sounded much too loud, but a quick check over your shoulder showed Din on his back, helmet turned towards where you’d been sleeping.

Padding down the hallway in an uncanny caricature of your past life, you came up to what was once Rhydian’s room with an unfounded trepidation that grew and grew and grew the longer you stood there.

Heart hammering, your consciousness returned with greater clarity as worry eclipsed fatigue. Fear of something dark and malicious waiting just on the other side of the door. It was an illogical instinct that demanded you check on the little bogwing for…some reason. For your own peace of mind, at least. But now that you were here, you were afraid.

This was ridiculous. You were being ridiculous. Was this how irrational all mothers felt when it came to their children?

You shook the thought out of your mind, sliding the door open into a darkness that unnerved you. None of the shutters had been opened yet, for both Din’s sake and for the added protection fortified durasteel gave when children were quite literally being stolen from their beds.

A stone sank in the pit of your stomach, nausea surfacing when the source of your worry revealed itself. You hadn’t even considered the danger you’d be inadvertently placing the child in by coming here. Admittedly, he was in constant danger from the imps who sought the power he possessed, but that wasn’t the point.

How could you be so…thoughtless?

You’d been so wrapped up in coming home yourself, that you hadn’t properly weighed the possible effect it might have on the little alien you loved more than anything.

Your eyes strained frantically in the darkness, picking out the small form at the top of Rhydian’s bed. Your shoulders sagged with a gust of relief. He was still there – of course he was – he was okay. Even with the worst of your concern abated, you walked over to sit at the side of the bed. You didn’t want to leave him just yet, the tension in your body still needing time to dissipate fully before you could even think about sleeping again.

He usually wasn’t so far away, even though he was just down the hall.

You stroked over the base of the ear sticking out from under the blankets, his other ear folded under his cheek while little snores left him. Completely zonked. After a while, weariness began to creep back up on you as the adrenaline subsided, your limbs heavy. It would be dawn soon, a new day with more unknowns lurking around familiar corners.

It wasn’t even a thought before you were laying down on the pillow beside the little bogwing, the faint scent of stale, mixed cologne squeezing your heart as you gently adjusted the child. He squalled quietly at being disturbed, half-conscious before he snuggled back to sleep against your chest and your heart settled.

Just an hour, that’s all you needed. Just an hour, then you could go back to your own bed.

It wasn’t an hour. It wasn’t even two.

Indeed, it was the sound of the ocean that pulled Din to consciousness hours later rather than you moving in your sleep. Filaments of his dream mingled with the noise, merging with the mythosaurs roar and confusing the warrior to whether he was awake yet or not.

All his muscles felt…loose. Achy. It was likely down to the fact he’d slept in his armor for the first time in ages, but the soft, firm mattress beneath him suggested otherwise. A comfortable bed highlighted aches a less forgiving surface – namely the floor – masked with its hardness. On the one hand, he was disconcerted by the comfort, but on the other hand, his muscles never felt so relaxed.

That was until he noticed you weren’t there.

At first, Din guessed it was because the bed was so big. In the Razor Crest, there was very little wiggle room for either of you on the single sleep mat you used. The bed you’d slept in last night was made for couples. Big enough for a man his size to fully enjoy his woman – in every position – without being impeded, while also allowing him to hold you close whenever he wanted. With all that extra space, he assumed you’d simply rolled over onto your stomach.

But when a searching hand found only the cold mattress and an empty blanket, he knew you’d been out of bed for longer than a few minutes to use the fresher.

His eyes snapped open, confirming your absence and his fingers curled into the rich maroon comforter he covered you with after slowly working you over the edge and filling you with his seed hours before. Sitting up, he groaned inaudibly under his helmet as his back complained at the change in sleeping arrangements. Part of him thought the mattress too soft, that he’d fall through it and never stop falling. He’d get used to it eventually, he hoped.

Your bag lay open at the side of the bed when he swung his legs over it, rolling his neck and shoulders to shake them out of their squishy state of relaxation. His shirt was missing – of course it was, the little thief – so he knew he wouldn’t find you wandering the house naked, unfortunately.

He had an inclination as to where you were and, after using the fresher himself, decided to go see if he was right.

Before he left the darkened room, he paused at the access button and instead pressed the button beside it. The shutters groaned behind him, from disuse and stiffness, but still parted slowly. They allowed early morning sunlight to pierce the sliver of transparisteel that only grew the farther the shutters opened until Din was standing at the edge of the world.

Taking a moment to appreciate the view, Din approached the transparisteel. On the second floor, the ground and cliffs were hidden. Only the endless stretch of sparkling ocean was visible from here. Back however many thousands of years, when space travel was only a dream and people were confined to the planet they were born on, Din could easily imagine that a sight like this was as awe-inspiring as the cosmos.

No wonder your people revered ocean gods.

Letting the sun soak the bedroom in much needed light and warmth, Din left to go and find you.

His first instinct had been correct, as usual. You were with the child in the room the little womprat had commandeered the day before. The one with all the helmets, distinctly more masculine than your childhood bedroom. A brother? Din didn’t want to ask where he was, knowing it wasn’t likely to be a happy answer.

The image of you both sleeping though, tugged at something low in his stomach. A yearning for a reality like this. Such things were perilous to dwell on, especially for a man like him. A Mandalorian. But he couldn’t deny that something tectonic had shifted in your relationship. Something that made imagining such things, roots and family and connection, so much easier.

It was a change so drastic, yet so silent, that it blindsided the warrior for a moment.

He sat on the edge of the bed now, unwilling to disturb the peaceful scene while mindlessly stroking the back of your calf that was exposed when you turned over onto your side. The muffled sensation of leather on your warm skin made him want to remove his glove altogether to feel that silky softness skin to skin, but in that moment, you stirred.

Yawning deeply – Maker, you must’ve been tired – you stretched with a feline arch, your arms over your head and a sound so candidly seductive, Din had to yank the chain on his resolve tighter.

Horny fucker, he mentally chastised himself. The kid was here. Not in his hover-pram, but quite literally sleeping in the bed with you. He couldn’t be giving into base desires just because his sex drive didn’t know when to quit whenever he was around you.

“Morning, kitten,” he rasped instead, noting the bleary smile of a woman not yet fully awake on your lips. One without the burdens you carried every day. Innocent. The vision was only solidified further by the content little noise you made in response, dropping your hand to his thigh plate.

“Mm, hey,” you sighed, voice deliciously thick from sleep, “sorry, I had to check on him last night…must’ve fallen back asleep.”

He wasn’t surprised.

Your bond with the kid was strong, as deep as any blood connection someone could have with a child. The simple fact of the child sleeping in a different room compared to the Razor Crest would be an adjustment for you both.

“It was a long day,” he agreed, squeezing the back of your thigh as his hand roamed back down behind your knee.

Groaning, you stretched again, disturbing the green alien beside you who grizzled awake.

“It’s gonna be a long one today too, I feel.”

You sat up, Din’s eyes drawn helplessly down to the way your stomach crunched easily beneath his shirt. Another intrusive thought, of how your stomach might look swollen and round, rose in his mind. Eyes heavy, he was far slower in banishing that thought away than the others when he lifted a hand to brush away errant strands of hair from your face.

“The Commander said your alor wouldn’t be back until tomorrow, right?”

“Mhm,” you confirmed, your attention more happily preoccupied with greeting the child as you picked him up to kiss the top of his head and let him wrap a clawed hand in the length of your hair, “gives us time to do a little digging ourselves, don’t you think?”

He couldn’t fault your logic.

Din didn’t know how politics on Pamarthe worked, but your alor seemed powerful and would likely be taking charge of any and all attempts to find the children. Your parallel investigation of Jedi activity would have to work around that stalwart force.

You let the child down so he could crawl haphazardly over to him, scaling the height of his thigh to gurgle happily at the stoic warrior.

“Morning, kid,” he stroked over one wrinkly ear while he half-listened to your stream of consciousness.

Your mind truly was an incredible thing. Having just woken up, he could practically hear the gears starting up and whirring to life, running until they were at maximum capacity as you plotted and planned how to make the most of the day. All the while sat cross-legged on the bed in an oversized shirt and your hair a mess from his hands.

You never looked more beautiful.

“No.”

You rolled your eyes in exasperation at Din’s blunt response.

He was sat at the dining table, back to the wall with his blaster parts laid out in front of him. He was – needlessly in your opinion – cleaning his weapons. Again. You didn’t think there was another blaster in the entire galaxy in more pristine condition, than Din Djarin’s. Even during your Rebellion years, you didn’t think you ever saw a soldier take such care of his weapons. You cleaned your own blaster more than you used to, granted, but it was nothing in comparison to the Mandalorian.

“Good talk,” you huffed, passing him by on the way to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water.

There was the dull sound of him placing the piece he was cleaning back on the table. Quick as a serpent, his arm banded around your waist from behind to pull you back onto an armored thigh. You yelped, surprised by his speed and the strength of that forearm that kept you a willing prisoner against his hard chest.

“Okay, wait.”

His words rumbled through you, vibrating from beneath his chest plate and down your spine like perfectly polished river rocks caught in the current, “Ask me again.”

You really tried not to be charmed by his attempt to be more communicative. You really did. But he was trying, and that softened the edges of your impatience to nothing more than a fiore bun; round and squishy.

You puffed an exhale, your hand dropping to his forearm instinctively to keep it there.

“I think we’d get more done today if we split up,” you repeated the statement that initially had him refusing before you finished speaking, “you can go bring the Razor Crest to the hanger here, and I can go into town with the kid to pick up supplies we desperately need if we’re going to be staying here.”

Din grunted, his malcontent palpable as his fingers flexed into the soft flesh at your waist.

“There’s no need to split up for that.”

That was better than a no, at least.

“Isn’t there?” you frowned, wriggling within his hold to sit across his lap instead, better able to look into that achingly familiar T-visor, “You can use the jetpack to get to Stag Seaport way quicker by yourself than going the long way around on the speeders. I can do some digging while I’m in town without the spectacle of a Mandalorian distracting every doe that crosses our path from telling me what they know.”

Din’s ears pricked, you could tell by the slightest tilt of his helmet. His hearing was as sharp as his eyesight down the scope of a blaster, you should’ve known he’d pick up on it.

“Oh?”

The word escaped him in a purr. A deep gravel that, to any normal person, would sound like a growl. But that was just Din. Even his purrs were intimidating. You didn’t react, you’d only dig yourself deeper.

“Does, hm.” He hummed, running a wide-palmed hand up from your knee along the side of your thigh casually, “Do I detect a hint of jealousy in my kitten?”

Colour burst across your cheeks, heating them with the immediate mortification of being caught reacting so emotionally to such a harmless statement. You spluttered, rolling your shoulders back with indignant pride even as you sat preening on the lap of a man who could make you beg with the crook of a finger.

“That’s not what I meant,” you sniffed, looking down your nose.

Not entirely, anyway.

You weren’t the jealous type, but you were possessive. Pamarthen women, especially Carria does, were ridiculously attractive. As feminine and ethereal as the woodland creatures they were likened to. Flirting, casual sex, harems…they were all common aspects of Carria culture that might catch an off-worlder, namely a Mandalorian, off guard.

While Din might only be interested in you, his mere presence would set tongues wagging.

He was a warrior. He walked like it was big – it was – commanded a room like he knew what to do with it – he did – and wordlessly made lesser men submit like he could fuck their women better than them.

He could.

He was everything a Carria woman looked for. Stars, he was everything a Macteer woman looked for, and they were notorious for seeking only the strongest attributes in a mate. She-wolves were a force to be reckoned with at the best of times, they needed someone who wouldn’t crumble when they flashed their fangs.

“Mm…even if it was,” Din’s hand stopped at your hip, pulling your attention back fully to him when he lifted it to cup your jaw firmly and forced your eyes to remain helplessly on his visor where he could see the truth, “does are too skittish for me. I like my woman to roar, even if it is only a meow at times.”

How dare your stomach flutter at that.

You swatted his shoulder, nothing in the way of him seeing the fluster on your face with the grip he kept on your jaw. Damnable man. The chuckle he released was as warm as it was filthy. He knew exactly what he was doing to you, exactly what turned you on. Then his hand shifted to the back of your neck in a gesture more gentle – but no less possessive – so he could drop his forehead to yours silently.

Your cheeks still hot from his teasing, you tried to appear stern.

“I do not meow.”

How the comparison Biran made nearly two years ago stuck still boggled your mind. But the affection with which the Mandalorian crooned kitten to you was indescribable in its intimacy. Sometimes, you almost liked the sound of it better than your name, if only because he was the only one who called you it.

“You sure?” he teased, “I’m nearly certain that’s the sound I hear when you’re bossing me around.”

He tightened his hold around you pre-emptively in case you really did live up to your nickname and claw him to shreds. When your jaw fell to the floor, aghast, he couldn’t prevent the laugh from bursting under his helmet at your expression.

“That’s so rude!” you crowed, disbelief at your lovers audacity making the entire thing funnier as a laugh of your own threatened to escape your lips. You pressed them tight together to stop it. You needed to have some dignity.

His foresight had been correct – damn him – and when you squirmed to try and stand with what you considered righteous fury, his arms stopped you from doing much more than wriggling pathetically on his lap.

So much for your dramatic exit.

“Easy, kitten…” Laughter still lacing his tone, the breathy drop of his voice stalled you with its sudden heat, “keep moving like that, and we’ll get nothing done today.”

Oh.

You became aware of the slightly hardening length under you. Both your pussy and ass throbbed with awareness. He’d been inside both the night before on the shores of the sea. Stars, he hadn’t even filled your ass entirely before you came. You could only imagine what it’d be like when you were able to take him fully without restraint.

Your throat suddenly dry, you swallowed. A low growl – one you felt more than heard – rose in Din’s chest. It was like your thoughts were playing in a holovid for him to see, his intuition uncanny.  Maker, you were insatiable these last few days, both of you. Which was saying something. But as much as you wanted him to bend you over the dining table to go for round three, you had work to do.

A sneaky idea rose in your mind then, and you wiggled your ass again experimentally. His grip tightened immediately, a warning snarl rumbling in his chest. Biting down into the pillow of your bottom lip, you dropped your hand deliberately to the front of his flight suit.

Din’s growl of your name was a rare second warning. The last one you would get. Anything after that would be a well-deserved punishment.

“Mmh?” you hummed airily, your fingers tiptoeing lightly over the semi-hard shape of him. Not enough that he’d feel much under the thick duraweave, but enough to tease him the way he’d been tormenting you all morning.

“You know…” you continued seductively, nudging your nose into the carved cheek of his helmet and basking in the shuddering exhale you heard coming from under the lip, “if we split up, we can get back to this much, much quicker…”

“You sly fucking…” Din growled in realization, outmaneuvered  by your strategy. He couldn’t keep the faint hint of pride at the way you’d seamlessly manipulated the situation to get your own way out of his tone, though. What could you say? You weren’t a one-trick-pony, and seduction was an art form you eagerly indulged in all your life.

He didn’t even finish his sentence, sighing with a clunk as his helmet fell back against the wall in defeat. You didn’t think it was premature to give yourself another point in the tally, honestly you deserved two just for style.

“Fine. Fine,” he relented, releasing his grip on you and swatting your ass when you stood from his lap victorious, “we do it your way.”

With a bounce in your step, you continued on your way to the kitchen, flashing him a bright smile over your shoulder. He looked about as flustered as his armor would allow, and it turned your grin cheeky knowing you were the cause of it,

“There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Leaning back in the chair, Din’s posture shifted arrogantly. His legs spread, you could easily make out the hard bulge of his cock straining against his flight suit and just like that, your fleeting moment of control evaporated.

“Not as hard as I’m going to fuck you the moment we get back, ner baruur.”

You were right, as usual.

Using his Rising Phoenix cut the time it took to get to the spaceport almost by half. Your advice to follow the coastline, across the white cliff faces that cascaded down into the waves beneath, ensured he didn’t get lost amidst the disorienting scale of the sea or the confusing labyrinth of hills and forestry.

Small fishing vessels rocked gently on the water, Din’s helmet picking up the occasional shout from one of the men on board to another. Hauling great nets of silver-toned fish onto the deck, a line of conservation droids immediately began sorting through the catch rapidly. Finding egg-bearing females, the young, or other species that accidentally got caught up in the net and tossing them back into the ocean.

He wouldn’t be surprised if fish from that catch ended up in your possession when they made it to the fishmongers. You liked seafood, he recalled. You were always in a good mood on the rare occasion he landed on a planet that had any semblance of water on it, knowing it meant fresh fish for once. You’d been buying fish that day on Mynock before he made the journey to Arvala-7.

Din snorted under his helmet, dark eyes turning back the direction he was flying.

To think, he planned to avoid you. Fearing he’d end up in a sarlacc pit or something equally disastrous given how up until that point, your paths only ever crossed when he was injured. Din didn’t fear much then, bar his helmet being removed or dishonoring his Creed, and part of him now wondered if what he feared had been the feelings you nudged awake inside him.

Back then, they were nothing close to what they were now. Maker, it took months to even find his way to your bed, but those first encounters were like the first cracks of a crater before a volcanic eruption. An inevitability. There was nothing he could’ve done to stop it.

Fishing boats were eventually replaced by great vessels on their way to and from the seaport. What looked like several airship carriers sat docked on the horizon, flanking your clan’s territory with an impenetrable strength he found staggering. For one clan to possess all this…

Pamarthen clans were evidently much, much larger than Mandalorian clans. Perhaps, before the Great Purge of Mandalore, it looked similar, but he’d been too young, too…focused on his training on Concordia to notice.

He steered clear from landing directly in front of the Razor Crest, however more convenient it might have been. The area was technically an active spaceport and Din didn’t want to gamble of his abilities to outmaneuver X-Wings and cargo ships.

Instead, he landed at the foot of the bridge that connected the big island to the ports. It was a bit of a walk across, both durasteel bridges made for industry with a size to match. He could stretch his legs though, and casually observe those who passed him. In his line of work, he never knew who he might see or what odd behavior he might notice that would lead him to who he was hunting.

The Mandalorian didn’t quite know what he was looking for when it came to the Jedi, truth be told. Not someone who looked like the child, but something that embodied…magic? He didn’t fucking know. What did magicians look like? Did they wear cloaks and hoods? Did they levitate instead of walk? How was he supposed to tell the difference?

Wait.

A group of people passed Din on the other bridge and his eyes were immediately transfixed. They weren’t levitating, but everything else about them looked straight out of the mental image Din had been using this entire time.

Three figures, hooded and cloaked in coarseweave robes of a deep red, walked unhurriedly behind two armed soldiers. Their blaster rifles held to their chest on standby, they were donned in black combat gear and what looked to be dense, black chainmail covering their heads. The links fell like water down to their chest and possessed no discernible features – no eye sockets or mouthpiece – bar the way the mail settled over their faces. The peak of a nose and curve of a forehead, nothing else.

Was this the way outsiders saw Mandalorians? Surely not. His helmet concealed his appearance but gave him a name, a purpose. Those mail masks looked like they were made to wash away the identity of anyone who wore one. They didn’t look real.

These guys were just…walking around. After looking for so long, Din always assumed sorcerers existed the way the Tribe had; secretly. They might not even be sorcerers, but these guys looked like they knew shit about magic, and that was as close as he’d gotten since his journey began.

It was probably why his next move wasn’t as calculated as it usually would’ve been.

“Hey, you.”

Din called across the wide open space between the bridges, the audience roar of the water beneath turning the space into an arena. He approached the edge of his side slowly as both faceless guards turned, placing themselves between him and their charges.

He held up a hand in peace, the other hovering over the butt of his blaster should he need to draw it quickly. Neither guard lifted their weapon but kept them tucked to their chest, the barrel pointed down. Ready.

“A Mandalorian? On Pamarthe?” A voice rose in Basic from the group.

One of the guards jerked his head marginally, not expecting one of the robed men to speak. With some reluctance, he stood half a step to the side for the one who spoke to get a better look at him. Even with just a hood, the thickness of the material shadowed the man’s deeply wrinkled face effectively.

“In full regalia too, how rare.”

An uncomfortable feeling surfaced in Din’s stomach, like he was a wild, exotic creature kept in captivity by Core planets for their inhabitants to ogle and stare at.

Whatever assumption Din had about these men and their secrecy, was wiped clean when the one who spoke pulled his hood down, revealing an elderly human man with stringy, grey hair combed back from severe, heavy brows. His charcoal eyes set Din on edge, a strike of lightning tensing his spine with instinctive awareness.

“I have some questions for you,” Din responded, ignoring the obvious appreciation the man had for his armor. This was nothing new for a Mandalorian.

The two figures that remained hooded looked towards each other, unfazed by his words. The man with the unnerving eyes arched one of those thick brows, thin lips twisting into some semblance of a smirk.

“I understand you’re not from here, Mando,” he explained slowly, raising Din’s hackles from the condescension in his tone, “and whoever sent for you has obviously given you a wasted journey, I fear. But we are not questioned by anyone.”

“That’s about to change,” Din retorted, he’d had bounties like this before. Big fishes in small ponds that shit themselves the moment he struck back. He didn’t need to waste actual energy into scaring people, their spines were usually brittle enough to snap from a growl.

But something about these people did unnerve the Mandalorian. The way he knew not to underestimate the reinforcements gang affiliates could call to overwhelm him with sheer numbers rather than skill. They obviously knew that too, because the grin never left the robed man’s face.

He merely reached back to pull his hood back over his head, a leer of contempt shining in those flat, black eyes when he turned back the way the group had been walking before Din interrupted, “We shall see about that, Mandalorian.”

One guard kept him in his sights, flanking the rear as his companion led the group away. He didn’t turn back around until they were some distance away and even then, Din knew their muscles must be tense in anticipation for him to strike.

Part of him wanted to. To force them into submission and answer the questions he had. Two guards were nothing to a warrior of Din’s caliber and they knew it too. But something stopped him. There had been observers to this exchange, passers-by who slowed to watch and Din realized by their hushed whispers that he’d done something wrong.

One such person actually approached him, the whelp with the crush. Bryn.

“Mister, Mister Mando—” came the thickly accented greeting.

Maker give him strength.

Din’s eyes flickered to the boy, even as his helmet remained trained on the group slowly growing smaller the farther they walked away. When Bryn waved a hand in front of his visor though, thinking he hadn’t heard him, Din’s impatience won out, and he growled, grabbing the boy’s wrist to yank down.

“What?”

“Ow, ow ow—” Bryn complained from where Din had twisted his wrist subconsciously. The warrior released him with a click of his tongue, annoyed, “By Llyrian, you’re strong. Though, I’d expect nothing else from a Mandalorian…given the stories, but—”

“What is it, boy?” Din interrupted.

“I—well, I’d be careful with the Sentinels,” Bryn frowned, looking out towards the group Din had been contemplating jumping, “They’re a law onto themselves here, not a good idea to get on their bad side.”

The Sentinels…where had he heard that name before?

“I can handle myself, kid.”

Bryn’s hazel eyes widened at the perceived offence he’d caused Din, waving a hand in front of him, “Of course!” He mumbled something in Pamarthen, a rapid string of words Din couldn’t understand before rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, “I don’t know how to explain in Basic, but even the rhaer has limited power over them.”

Din arched a brow, unseeing to the boy who only had his stoic, unmoving helmet to go by. Now that was surprising. The same leader who had fleets of airship carriers and land far as they eye could see was not wholly in charge of certain people who lived on it? That was something he would have to ask you about later.

“I get it,” Din rumbled, Bryn still valiantly trying to describe such a niche topic in his second language, “thanks.” He tagged to the end, frowning when the young man smiled. Had Din ever been this green? This insufferably…hopeful?

Unlikely.

Bryn was young, likely only eighteen or nineteen years old. He hadn’t seen a fraction of the horrors someone even ten years his senior would have.

“No problem, Mister Mando,” Bryn puffed his chest, proud of himself.

“Just Mando, is fine,” The Mandalorian sighed, feeling a headache coming along already and desperately wishing he could remove his helmet to pinch the bridge of his nose in an attempt to stave it off.

"Mando, wizard." Bryn nodded, “What’s brought you back here so soon? Did you find Commander Carria last night? He came looking for you, but you’d already left by then. I told him you’d planned to go to the Tipsy Hart since I said that’s where I thought he would be but obviously not, since he showed up at the spaceport—”

“Picking up my ship,” he grunted in a desperate attempt to stop the talking and turned back towards the spaceport.

Was this what Din had to look forward to when the kid started talking? Thank the Maker he seemed to age at a snail’s pace so he’d have a few years before that hopefully started. His thoughts screeched to a halt, a mudhorn colliding with him when he remembered it didn’t matter when the kid spoke, he was going to be with his own kind, not Din.

It soured his humor further, and when Bryn took it upon himself to walk with him, Din almost took it out on the poor kid. But the realization that he wouldn’t experience the child talking the way Bryn was now softened the warrior marginally, enough to not shoot him.

“The Razor Crest, right? She’s very old,” Bryn continued conversationally.

Huh. Maybe he would shoot him after all. Did he speak so candidly about everything on his mind? Din wouldn’t like to know how women reacted if he told them exactly what was on his mind the way he was to the warrior now.

“Never call a woman old, kid,” Din heard himself say as they walked into the makeshift hanger where the Razor Crest sat, “Whether she’s a ship or the girl you marry.”

“Oh,” Bryn replied quietly, mulling his words against whatever it was that took up the mind of a boy his age.

Sex. Usually sex.

Din snorted, what was his excuse then? Age evidently didn’t matter, when a man had a woman like you in his bed night after night. How could he not think about your body, your sounds, your pussy squeezing every drop of come from him whenever he got the chance?

“No wonder Llysa got mad at me when I said she was too old to learn how to pilot a Mantaris…” he mused to himself, scratching the back of his head where two delicate braids met the tie that held his hair in a messy tail.

Oh boy.

Din stopped by his ship, typing in a code on his vambrace to drop the shields and open the ramp. The kid was a disaster and even worse, he had no idea he was. There was a call in Pamarthen from across the harbor and while Din couldn’t understand most of it, he recognized Bryn’s name.

The boy shouted something back jovially despite the impatience in the other man’s voice.

“I gotta get to work, but it was nice seeing you again Mis—Mando.”

Din dipped his head in acknowledgement, watching as Bryn started jogging in the direction the voice came from. Something compelled him to speak though, an effect that Pamarthens seemed to have on the warrior.

“Bryn,” Din called, partially hoping the kid wouldn’t hear him. No such luck. He looked over his shoulder at the Mandalorian, slowing down and Din snorted to himself. Annoying as he was, there was something refreshing about Bryn. While he hadn’t seen the terrors you or he had in the war, he represented a new hope for a future untouched by what happened.

“Encourage that girl to learn,” he rasped, dipping into the pot of knowledge he’d accumulated from you, one that grew larger by the day, “don’t underestimate her.”

Confusion crossed Bryn’s face and he wondered briefly if his words had fallen on deaf ears, but after a moment, an unguarded smile lit his face and the boy nodded. With a lazy salute as a parting thanks, Bryn left on his way back to work and despite not getting any information from the Sentinels, Din didn’t feel the entire journey had been a waste.

It had been far too long since you and the child went on your own adventure together.

Fallow Ridge was the perfect spot for it.

You could’ve taken him to a village closer to the house, but that far north didn’t see much traffic and information would be harder to come by. Fallow Ridge was more central, about an hour away by speeder and boasted some of the best bakeries on the island. Located just off the main artery of roads leading to the Seat, it wasn’t uncommon to see members of other clans passing through on their journeys.

After Din had taken off to Stag Seaport and double checking your comms still worked in case he needed to find you, you bundled the little alien into his brown satchel and were off.

You hadn’t been lying to Din when you said you’d need to pick up supplies. No one had lived in your house for over six years and apart from the things Kyr left for you, there was little more than mothballs and dust in the cupboards. Not to mention clothes. After Din had unceremoniously ripped one of your two remaining pairs of pants last night, you were in desperate need of new ones.

Parking your speeder just outside the low stone wall that marked the perimeter of town, you nodded politely in greeting to a group of young pilots half-dressed in the pants of their flight suits, sleeveless undershirts displaying the antlers of their Mark proudly against tanned skin. You wondered if you knew them, they looked young enough to have been children when you left – like Bryn – so the changes would’ve been drastic enough for you to be uncertain.

Cobblestone buildings sat on mismatched levels across the uneven terrain. Some further up on hills where small paths branched off from the main street, while only the roofs of other houses could be seen from where they were situated further down an incline.

The kid was mesmerized as the bustle of daily life overwhelmed his senses. A hum of chatter, welcoming and lively, mingled with the sounds of trade as people shopped, gossiped and generally appeared untouched by the ravages of a post-war universe.

But the scars could still be seen, quiet as they may be.

Absent figures, a disparity in the number of people your age compared to older generations, more cybernetic prosthetics than before from both the bombardment and returning rebels. Even the prices in the transparisteel of shops were higher than you remembered, significantly higher. But that’s what happened when you had a destroyed spaceport; trade became complicated and therefore, expensive.

“What do you say, cutie?” you looked down at your hip where the child was babbling happily with distracted grabs to anything and everything he wanted to explore, “Food or clothes first?”

It was a redundant question, the second the word ‘food’ left your mouth, his large eyes were sparkling with an excited coo.

“Good idea, maybe we can grab more fiore buns before they sell out for the day too.”

His ears wiggled eagerly, the memory of his small mouth blue from the berry jam inside the buns last night making you laugh quietly to yourself. You weren’t the only one who was a fan of them. Even Din seemed to enjoy the uniquely tart flavor, opting for a second without needing much convincing.

You wandered from stall to store, taking advantage of the freshness that came from an agricultural planet. The bakery – thankfully – still had fiore buns coming out of the oven and, after a sample, you left with a baker’s dozen. The kid complained when you stopped him from crawling into the bag to get at them, knowing there’d be none left if you gave him an inch.

When you got to the grocers – for preserved foods you were more familiar with on ships and other planets – you were suddenly struck by the reality that you weren’t on another planet, or on a ship. You were…here.

An emotion surfaced in you, one you weren’t able to translate into Basic. Hireach. A Pamarthen term with no real translation that was used to express both homesickness and nostalgia. It was a complex mix of melancholy and happiness, grief and yearning for something that still existed but was irrevocably changed.

You felt it as you followed familiar paths that were missing…something, and no matter how hard you tried to put your finger on it, the answer seemed to get more and more tangled, more indefinable.

It wasn’t necessarily a bad emotion, nor was it indicative of any great tragedy. Truly, to experience hireach was only possible when you had good memories attached to it. Hireach illuminated the irreverence of time, how your former life now fit like a shirt much too small. How it strained across your shoulders and back, not painful but…uncomfortable. No matter how much you rolled your shoulders and tugged at the material, it never seemed to sit right anymore.

“Hullo?”

You were shaken back to the present by the shopkeeper behind the counter. A bag of supplies between you, the woman looked at you with a mixture of confusion and caution.

“Sorry, I was klicks away, how much did you say?” you reeled off, scrambling on autopilot to regain your footing in the conversation instead of how strange it all looked and felt.

“Forty-seven credits total,” the woman smiled, the action tight and somewhat forced.

That was certainly different, but you couldn’t blame her for being mistrustful. With everything going on, it was no wonder people were on edge. Speaking of…

“Terrible business, isn’t it? The children.”

The seamless slip into what some might call ‘gossiping’ was familiar territory for the shop-owner, and it thawed the suspicion you’d garnered from your spacy attitude. Her shoulders relaxed and with a morose expression, she nodded.

“Aye, the poor wee things. May Amhra guide them home.”

“Amhra guide them,” you echoed distractedly, glancing around the shop.

“If she can’t, then the rhaer will,” the shopkeeper nodded confidently, ringing up the credits you handed to her and talking about your childhood friend as though he were a god among men, “I don’t think there’s a man on this planet more determined to find them.”

Her confidence in Kyr comforted you. Hopefully, the rest of Clan Carria held the same sentiment. It was one thing to be perceived as a ruler, but it was better still to be seen as a guardian. And Kyr Carria was the embodiment of the lone stag watching over his herd; silent, observative, strong.

Who else did that sound like…

“I’m sure he’s doing everything he can,” you added to the conversation diplomatically.

“Lot of lions coming through these parts too, looking for Skyla,” she handed you your change, “and nothing against them personally, but where was that urgency when our fawns went missing?”

There was an edge of frustration in the woman’s tone, her brows furrowing with a downturn of her lips. The friendship between Clan Carria and Clan Leyghin was strong, but it wasn’t immune to skepticism and misgivings. Skyla Leyghin’s disappearance was treated differently because she wasdifferent. Regardless of how equally tragic it was for any child to go missing, the only daughter and heir to the most steadfast clan on the planet was a devastating blow.

“Hopefully, with so many people looking for her, they’ll find the others too,” you navigated the statement carefully, empathizing with her annoyance but put in an awkward situation of being tied to both clans intimately.

She mulled over your words, nodding curtly in response, “What chance do any of those wee fawns have, if they’re only a secondary thought?”

It was your turn to pause, considering her rather…wise observation. Uncomfortable as it might be, you couldn’t deny the truth behind it.

“Kyr cares, they’re not second in his eyes,” you said by way of answering because truthfully, you didn’t know how to answer her. She was right, and it made you more uncomfortable as both a medic and as someone who now knew what it was to love a child. It had always been this way though, but absence from your planet had enlightened you to the reality that you didn’t agree with it.

“I believe it’s Rhaer Kyr to us,” the shopkeeper corrected you coolly, her eyes turning suspicious momentarily, likely contemplating either your view on him or relationship to him, “we don’t all address him so familiarly anymore, keep that in mind.”

Bantha balls.

He was just Kyr the last time you were here, he’d always been just Kyr. But he wasn’t, was he? He was descended from gods, if the stories were to be believed. He now sat as ruler of Clan Carria, one of the most powerful clans on Pamarthe. He was never just anything, you had simply lived your life so close to the sun that the light and heat became normal.

For the first time, you experienced a burn for flying too close to it.

“Right…” you trailed awkwardly before giving your thanks to the shopkeeper, parting with her as politely as possible as you left the store.

The child was getting fussy in the satchel by the time you dropped everything off in your speeders saddlebags, bored and you figured there wasn’t any harm in letting him stretch his little legs.

“Wanna walk for a bit?” you asked, lifting him out to place on the ground beside you. You could do with a slower pace for a while.

After stopping by a small media store on a whim that – thankfully – had different holovids of Moray and Faz than the one the child already had, you spotted two pylbucks and their riders walking down the main street.

Their fur a beautiful copper color, ivory horns curled back from their heads. One had a splodge of white in the middle of its head carriage, and the other a splatter of white over its left eye. They must have been by the same sire. Powerful bipedal legs with ivory talons similar to their horns clicked along the stone with every step and the child was utterly enthralled by them as they grew bigger and bigger the closer they came.

These weren’t just regular pylbucks either, these were bred with a specific purpose in mind. Intimidation and control. War. That meant the men riding them were guards themselves, dressed casually as one held the reins loosely in one hand while he carved something. His pylbuck shook its head with a grunt, short mane catching the sunlight. The rider – unperturbed – looked up from his work and leaned down to pat the long, wide neck of his mount affectionately.

You, however, were more curiously distracted by the striped tattoo where Carria antlers usually were around the bicep. With a variety of lengths and width, the double-loop emulated the stripes of an apex predator.

Pamarthen lions.

These were some of Attycus’ men.

“You’re far from the Hearth,” you exclaimed pleasantly as you came within earshot of the two soldiers.

“Quickest way to the Snags,” the younger of the two men called back, bringing his pylbuck to a halt beside you and flashing you with an easy smile.

“To the search party?” you asked, inattentive to the soldiers smile. These two might have more information.

“Aye,” the second soldier stated, “we’re part of their relief.”

 Kyr was due to return tomorrow, that made sense. To have a relief party though, meant they’d had no luck in finding the children thus far, which wasn’t likely to change by morning. You tried not to let your disappointment sink into despair at the thought.

“Has there been any news?” you ventured to ask, perhaps a little too nosily but you’d never gotten anything in life from sitting pretty and passive.

The soldiers appeared amiable though, and you didn’t feel the need to be totally on your guard around them. The older of the two, a handsome man with long blonde hair streaked with silver sat up straighter in his saddle where he’d been reclined as he whittled something small and beige in his hand.

“Nothing yet, miss.” His grey eyes followed the child as he waddled closer to his mount and tried to reach for one of the pylbucks’ short, raised front legs, “It’s like they’ve all just vanished into thin air.”

“How is that possible…” you wondered aloud, crossing your arms at the paradox of the situation.

“That’s the scary part,” the younger soldier added, propping his heel up on the saddle easily to rest his elbow on it, “it shouldn’t be possible.”

“Aye, but there were cases like this before,” the blonde mentioned, dismissing the younger man’s quizzical look, “during the first Galactic war, lots of kids all over the galaxy went missing inexplicably.”

“Yeah, but that was a war,” his partner answered with some impatience, as if this wasn’t the first time it had been brought up, “and it wasn’t just kids, people in general were never heard from again. Killed in combat, sold to the Hutts…there were more ways to go missing than trees in Siodam’s Forest.”

You listened intently, taking a leaf out of Din’s book and gathering more information by observing and absorbing than inserting yourself into the conversation. You had to agree with the younger soldier, it was like comparing Gungans and the Naboo; they were nothing alike. The situation during the Galactic war was widespread, and indiscriminate. What was happening now was intentional, calculated.

“Careful,” you crouched to scoop the child up when one of the pylbucks noticed the little menace tugging at the fur closest to its talons, causing the creature to try shake the tickle away.

Your movement pulled the soldiers attention back to you from where they were debating the situation amongst themselves. The younger of the two frowned in confusion, glancing between the child and you and likely trying to reconcile the logic behind the pairing. The older man merely smiled, crow’s feet and laughter lines revealing themselves on his features.

“Don’t let that cub out of your sight, miss,” he rubbed his unknown craft on the rough leather of his thigh to polish it of any splinters before leaning down from his pylbuck to hand it to the kid, “both our clans have lost enough already.”

The child eagerly took whatever the man gifted him and when you caught sight of the roughly whittled lioness mid-stride, you were reminded of all the good that had been overshadowed by your apprehension in coming home. Where men defended their lands with the same knife they use to craft toys for children.

The little bogwing was enamored with his lioness, keeping her clutched tight in his small hand and babbling incomprehensibly at the soldier who listened attentively. He must have been a father himself, his patience that of a parent willing to listen to the same thing over and over.

“Thank you,” you translated, running a hand gently over the top of the bogwing’s head, “may Siodam lead you down safe paths.”

Both soldiers dipped their heads graciously at your words and with a nudge of their heels into the side of their mounts, they took off again. The child waved happily after the men, shaking his new toy in hand. They left you in a far happier mood than you were when leaving the grocers, light refracted kindness banishing the shadows momentarily.

Walking with a lighter step, you veered down one of the paths off the main street. You only had to untangle the lioness twice from where the child had somehow managed to get it wrapped in your hair. You were still extracting a few strands as you bumped the door open into a little known boutique hidden amongst the glades. Sewn by Saeda.

It sold the most comfortable, most flattering pants you’d ever owned. There was some witchcraft in the way the material shaped your ass and thighs, and you’d happily thank Saeda for selling her soul in order to procure it.

A bell – ancient and unusual – rang overhead with a gentle tinkle.

A woman looked up from her work at the noise, flashing you with a welcoming smile as she draped the measuring tape she’d been using around her exposed neck. Shiny, onyx hair was gathered in a messy nest atop her head and flyaway strands framed her face in a way that was usually carefully crafted by stylists, but you knew immediately was natural.

She was a beautiful woman. Olive skin practically glowing with deep, moss green eyes rimmed in thick, dark lashes. When she stood, you wondered if she had any bones at all, and wasn’t just pure, fluid energy with how effortlessly graceful she was.

“Welcome! Is this your first time here?” she asked pleasantly, her accent difficult to place, but likely from the more southern archipelago. Where the clans of Olvaer and Tahru resided.

“The first in a long, long time,” you admitted on a chuckle, letting the child down once you were certain he was preoccupied with his lioness and wouldn’t get into anything he wasn’t supposed to.

“Ah, you were probably expecting to see Saeda,” the woman sounded somewhat apologetic, “she’s semi-retired now, so I help out a few times a week. You can call me Zyra.”

It would be easy to dislike Zyra simply for being beautiful. Maker, you’d faced enough prejudice and contempt in your field for the same reason over the years. But there was something inviting about the woman, something genuine in the way she spoke. She inspired trust, whether it was in fashion advice or something deeper. She was probably one hell of a saleswoman, that was for sure.

You offered your name in return, a moment of recognition flashing across her eyes before it vanished and she moved around the counter to help you.

“What can I do for you and this adorable little guy today?” she asked, her question making you glance around the store that was teeming with selection. More than you’d seen in a long time. For so long, scrubs, a uniform and more practical clothes were all you wore, it was what you were comfortable with.

“Honestly? I’ve had more clothes destroyed in the last few months than I ever grew out of as a child,” you admitted, the atmosphere Zyra created in the shop making you feel equal parts at ease and confident.

Her brows rose, a sparkle of curiosity lighting her eyes, “For only good reasons, I hope?”

Yeah, you liked Zyra. No banthashit and with a sense of humor. The flush on your cheeks was answer enough, the other woman clapping her hands together once with an excited thrill.

“I know it’s contradictory as someone who makes clothes, but when a man rips them off…” She fanned her face lightly, her skin flushed.

You snorted, making your way over to a table where a variety of sizes and colors of the pants you wanted were neatly folded.

“Okay, yes—but I literally have one pair of pants left,” you complained, laughter lacing your tone as the ridiculousness of the situation made you giggle. You had just met this woman, and yet here you both were, talking about how you liked it when men tore your clothes off.

“Good!” Zyra sniffed from the other side of the table where she was checking for your size without even needing to ask you it, “That keeps me in business, give him my thanks!”

You both burst out into peals of laughter, the small store filled with the noise and you were infinitely grateful that there was only the two of you. Anyone else who walked in would think you both lunatics.

“Actually, I have just the thing for it—” she clicked her fingers while you were wiping the corner of your eyes from getting into a kink of laughter for the last few minutes, “wait here.”

Your brows furrowed lightly when Zyra disappeared in a flurry to the back of the shop, leaving you with the child who was sitting on a small stack of pants you picked out, patting the soft material. His ears were drooping, a clear indication that the day was catching up on him and your new clothes were tempting him to make them his bed.

When Zyra returned though, you hoped he had dozed off with the way your lips parted and face heated at what she brought out.

Could it even be considered clothes? Of course not, you chided yourself, it was underwear. Beautiful underwear, but definitely not something to be worn outside the bedroom. It would be a travesty to cover it up with clothes.

The sensual black set was beautiful enough on its own, classic and understated, but your eyes were drawn immediately to the delicate silver chains that looped in loose layers down the halter-neck of the bra and beneath the bust. You could practically feel the coolness of the metal on your skin, how good it would feel when you were overheated from lust.

But that wasn’t the thing that made you blush, your mind emptying. The matching suspenders were shaped to define and exaggerate your hips and thighs, and it reminded you of something you were certain wasn’t on Zyra or Saeda’s mind when they made it.

Your holster. Namely, the one Din gave you. The same one that drove him feral every time you wore it. Maker, the man had fucked you a few times when you were wearing nothing else. Made of the same black lace and chains, you reached forward to trace one of the silver hoops, mesmerized.

It had been a long time since you wore anything remotely like this, not since you enlisted. There’d never been a reason and then, there’d never been an opportunity.

“Well?”

You jumped when Zyra spoke, the excitement in her voice hushed with anticipation when she saw you admiring the set. Blushing, you dismissed the idea of buying it. You didn’t need it. Maker, you never ended up wearing much at all where Din was concerned, and he wasn’t a man who needed a visual aid to get horny.

Your pitiful excuses fell on deaf ears as Zyra hooked her arm around yours to lead you to a floor length mirror. You could’ve dug your heels in, but your resistance was paper-thin, and you followed her.

“Feeling beautiful is as good a reason as any to spend credits,” she explained, placing the hanging set in front of your body so you might get an idea of how you’d look in it. She didn’t need to, you were honest enough with yourself to know you’d look good in it.

“But if you do need another reason, there’s only two for why a woman buys this set, in particular.” Zyra continued, piquing your curiosity as she handed you the set for you to feel how unbelievably soft it was beneath the lace.

“Oh?” you prodded.

“Either it’s for a man who’s lucky to have you and needs to be reminded of that fact,” she smiled over her shoulder at you on your way to where the child was snoozing on your stack of clothes, “or it’s for a man who knows he is, and deserves to be rewarded.”

Well.

You smiled at her, recognizing you’d discovered a friend in this new landscape of your old life which was a far rarer find than a set of beautiful lingerie.

“How can I argue with that logic?”

Missing.

Missing.

MISSING.

Dirt kicked up and staining strong legs. Pacing, pacing, pacing but no one. Not there. Gone.

GONE.

You heard the screech before you saw it, coming up to the house at twilight. The setting sun cast a low light that mixed with purple shadows on the land and turned it into a dream. Or a nightmare.

The noise pierced the skies, sending flocks of nesting birds out of trees. It was like a dying animal, or an enraged one. A primal scream of anger that made your eardrums quake with pain and woke the child from where he slept on your lap.

And there it was, racing across the fields of nerfs grazing in the distance at a speed unnatural even for the species it looked to be.

A pylbuck.

Notes

Llyrian – Pamarthen god of the sea.

Amhra – Pamarthen goddess of the wind and weather, wife of Llyrian.

Maldo Kreis – a terrestrial ice-covered planet where Din crashed the Razor Crest in Part 1 of the New Republic Arc, and in S2E2 of canon lore.

Rhydian – readers older brother who died during the Battle of Malastare in 4ABY.

Hoverball – an intergalactic sport I liken to baseball. I had initially wanted to use get’shuk as the sport Din referenced given it is a Mandalorian sport (similar to rugby) but given that reader was unlikely to know what it was, would make poor Din’s joke fall like a lead balloon. We couldn’t have that.

Fiore buns – a sweet roll filled with bright blue jam and glazed with milk and honey.

Clan Macteer – one of the three sister clans of Macteer (the barrow wolf), Blayd (the maned wolf) and Shunak (the fiore fox). Did you know! The Fiore fox which represents Clan Shunak was called as such because of the blue that tips its ears and tail, allowing it to hide amongst the fiore without being seen

Conservation-droids – something of my own creation, though I’m certain something similar exists somewhere in the lore!

Sentinels – druidic sect of Pamarthen culture, more to come on these guys.

Mantaris – short for a Mantaris-class amphibious medium transport, this iconic ship capable of adapting to atmospheric flight, realspace and underwater. Developed through a co-operative effort between the Naboo and the Gungans to colonise aquatic moons in their orbit, I have transplanted a similar type of ship onto Pamarthe given it is also a predominantly aquatic planet. Quick note, the Mantaris is one of my favourite ships in the entire SW lore! It’s design is beautiful and the creativity behind it truly added something wonderful to the visuals of The Phantom Menace.

Kyr Carria – leader of Clan Carria, around 8-10 years older than reader who knew him growing up due to the friendship between his younger brother Kai, and readers brother, Rhydian. This friendship became something more briefly when reader was around nineteen.

Hireach – I took inspiration for this term from the beautiful Welsh word hiraeth that I learned many years ago in school. It carries mostly the same multi-layered meaning. It’s been described as a combination of homesickness, longing, nostalgia and yearning for a home you cannot return to, no longer exists or maybe never was. It can encompass grief or sadness for who you once were or what you lost. All tied in to the losses of your home not the same as you once remember it. It’s honestly one of the most beautiful words I’ve ever come across.

Moray and Faz – A holoshow cartoon for children. I have assumed that it was popular around the time of, or just before, Stitches as it’s recorded in lore that Han Solo used to let his son, Ben, watch it.

Pylbucks – these are ungulate creatures of my own creation while taking inspiration from the many, many variations throughout SW lore. The closest in appearance, and thus in name, are the kybucks native to Kashyyyk. Master Yoda famously owned several kybucks over his long life, and was known to have an affinity with them.

The Hearth of the Lion – the seat of power for Clan Leyghin, one of three lone peaks dotted across the Pamarthen landscape.

The Snags – nickname given to The Grey Wildlands by locals. An impenetrable area of Siodam’s Forest where speeders, ships and even humans struggle to pierce. A single mile can feel like ten with branches grabbing hold of your skin and clothes, slowing you down and concealing your path.

Clan Olvaer – clan of the solar bear located in the south-eastern islands, more tropical and sandy than the more stormy, rocky islands of the north.

Clan Tahru – clan of the tahg, a horned bovine, similar to a water buffalo.

#djarinsbeskar writes #din djarin x reader #din djarin smut #din djarin x you #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #stitches #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian smut #mando x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian x you #din djarin fanfiction #star wars smut #mando smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic

[kedsandtubesocks]

omg !! your mando!baku thoughts i'm—

living for this au ! 🥺 so cute and such opportunities for angst 👀 drama 👀 forbidden romance 👀 pining !! i yearn for him goodbye akfhsidbbw

ty for sharing !! just wanted to stop by and say that i am in love with this concept 🥺

okay not even joking this literally is me right now because the absolute talent behind one of the best bakugo works and you take me the way I am messages ME?!

(also so ok I’m a big reader on ao3 especially for bnha fic so at first it didn’t hit me that you wrote it and then for a split second I was like “wait why does their name sound familiar- OH MY GOD??” So FORGIVE ME IM SORRY!!)

But lovely Willow oh my goodness… I really can’t explain how bright my entire being feels seeing your message I can’t thank you enough for dropping in to send something because I am just 🥹 and probably will be like all day

But yes TEAM MANDO BAKU!! AHHHHH 😭 he really does fit the role so well doesn’t he? Our chaotic angel queen @ofmermaidstories mentioned him with a certain green baby and my brain malfunctioned because he’d be such a sucker for foundlings

And okay…Honestly 👀 depending on how the current season of the mandalorian ends I might just take the jump and write him to deal with the pain™️ LMAO

For now I knew I had to leave you with something because you are as sweet as can be and i wish I could put into words and explain how much your message means to me so this will have to do, thank you 💐

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

The two of you would be stuck in the cave for a while.

“What happened to your damn shitty sorcerer powers huh? Can’t you move the dumb rocks?” Bakugo’s snarled modulated voice cuts through your thoughts and you sigh exhausted already.

You knew about his list of accolades.

One of the strongest mandalorain clan leaders that helped liberate their home planet of Mandalore. A war hero notorious for using not just a jet pack but also specially crafted beskar gauntlets that helped him fire cannon like explosions from his fists. He’s a smart strategist and commander, has earned the respect of the Jedi council for willing to work with your kind.

But he makes you want to pound on his metal helmet head with your lightsaber until it knocks some sense into him.

“It’s sometimes not as simple as moving rocks. I have to save my energy just in case those troopers come back.” You reply sharply. “Besides we both sent out distress signals, someone will come. We just have to wait.”

“Maybe you just can’t move the rocks.” It’s said so casually as Bakugo tries to survey the blocked off exit. The most childish thought rises in you to use his metal body to dig out of the rocks like an awful shovel.

So you breathe- inhale, exhale.

Thankfully the caverns glow from the tiny insects living in the rocks. It’s enough light that you can rummage through the ration packs in your bag.

“Come on,” you offer. “We need to eat something.”

“No.” Bakugo replies gruff. “We could be here a while. Can’t eat all that now.”

He’s right. You’re not telling him that of course. So instead you set your pack back down, close your eyes and try to mediate. But his awfully loud boots stomping around, crunching on every possible rock, makes your face scrunch frustrated. You try to plug up the annoyance leaking in fast.

“Relax.” You say to him or mainly to yourself.

Bakugo scoffs. Your eyes peak open to possibly glare at him. But his back is to you. The obsidian coated beskar he proudly wears is something striking. You even admire the beauty. You also notice you’ve been admiring his broad shoulders that seem to be even broader now with his hands on his hips. You shut your eyes fast.

You’re a knight. You’ve fought wars, survived training to become carved into a harbor of good and peace. You are a lightening rod for the force. You can’t falter, can’t waver.

Your stomach suddenly growls so loud that your eyes snap open horrified.

Bakugo’s helmed face even whips towards you.

“Was that your stomach? Are you part rancor or something because I had my damn suspicions…”

You almost scream at him. You think the force itself might be giggle behind your back.

Embarrassment chokes your mind as you sputter to even think of something. Until the warrior sighs. Bakugo pulls something from one of the pouches attached to his belt.

More ration packs.

“Don’t eat ‘em all.”

You glare hard at him. He knew you had your own. But, you offer him a quiet thanks. As you munch on the bland protein cube you realize-

“You need to eat too.” You tell the warrior.

A moment passes.

“I’ll be fine.” A fast simple reply from him.

“You said it yourself, we don’t know how long we’ll be in here so you need to eat something.”

“And I’ll cross that fucking bridge when if we get there.”

As if the force itself decided to give you a respite, his stomach growls even louder than yours.

It childish and comedic and you can’t even believe the timing. You can’t help it. You bust out laughing. It’s moments like this that remind you this grouchy feral lothcat of a man is in fact someone true and human beneath the helmet. (Or at least you believe he’s human. Your mind wanders about what he looks like beneath the helmet more than you ever will admit out loud.)

“Eat you idiot!” You laugh but a part of you is already terrified that you momentarily just sounded like him.

Something shifts in the air though, faint but heavy enough to notice. Bakugo goes quiet and everything stills alongside him.

“I can’t. Not yet…not here at least.” Oh.

The helmet.

“Look,” you begin solemn, composed. “I swear on my honor as a Jedi Knight you can trust me-“

“Like hell-” he snaps interrupting you first

“Fine!” But you fire back just as fast interjecting. “Starve I guess!”

The words are sharp. You even hate the taste of them, a poisonous bile still lingering in your mouth. Regret already floods you, a wild drowning current. If the council had heard you they would have been disappointed. You’re disappointed in you. You need to be calm, leveled headed. But you know you’re frustrated, tired and…and you hate the strange feeling that’s been crawling on your skin, growing a festering heat, ever since you met this damn menace. So you sigh, defeated and small.

“I’m sorry. Your creed is important, I understand that and I shouldn’t have said what I said.”

He doesn’t reply, doesn’t say a word. The silence, his silence, you discover is actually worse than any of his worst outbursts.

So you break the thick tensioned soaked air first.

“…if it helps… I have an idea.”

You move to the ground close to him. Then sit down turning your back to him.

“We sit back to back. You’ll sense me moving if I try to turn around, which I promise I won’t. But this way you can eat, even have some water and we can just…just rest.”

You can’t see his eyes even as you stare earnest and even a bit exhausted at him. The mandalorian warrior sighs.

“Fucking fine…but if you dare move I’m setting you on fire.”

“Fair enough.”

The moment Bakugo moves, settles against you back to back, your heart jumps an dizzying spin worthy of a star fighter.

You have never been this close to him, ever.

You’re surprised he actually settled fully pressed against you. His back is solid. The beskar armor is not as cold as you believed it to be, even through your robes. The flickering thought of the differences between your form and his makes your throat get tight as you swallow back something clogging your throat.

A gentle hiss of a noise comes. It gently cracks the air and out of instinct, out of panic, you close your eyes.

In and out, you steady your breathing, focus your thoughts to be mindful of the force. However, even as hard as you try, you wonder so deeply about what he looks like.

“Thanks…ya damn shitty Jedi.”

Then his voice, Bakugo’s actual voice unmodulated, clear and even more rough than you imagined, floats in the air. It gets snagged in your heart.

You squeeze your closed eyes tighter.

During the trials to become a knight, your mentors explained repeatedly that the oath, this path, would be difficult. The temptations would be many and they would be strong. You were taught so many ways to fight and be victorious. But you now fear how hard it might be to fight against the temptation growing in you. Because how are you to win against a warrior considered one of the greatest in the galaxy…

Because you realize slowly, then all at once-

Why did you not just offer to close your eyes? Why was your first instinct to offer sitting as close to him as you could?

#THIS GOT LONG AND SO STAR WARSY IM SORRY!! #but wow I’m keeping this message in my heart forever #I’d send you a million ration packs if I could #actually no they’d probably taste like shit so I’d send you baby yoda plushies instead #thank you…so much dear willow #I hope you have a wonderful magical rest of your day because you definitely made my day 💗 #mandalorian bakugo or aka erika stop talking about Star Wars #across the stars: mandalorian bakugo

[manhandlememando]

Gravity Ch. 6

din djarin x f!reader

TW: MDNI: smut, oral (f! receiving), fingering, *slight*dirty talk, language, violence, SA mentions (barely any description of the act itself but it is a topic discussed in this story multiple times), PTSD, nightmares, angsty!Din, the Razor Crest lives, written in 3rd person POV (she/her descriptors)

MDNI warning: this story contains content not suitable for people under the age of 18, please refrain from reading my content if you are underage. Any underage blogs or ageless blogs that interact with this post will be blocked. Stay safe :)

word count: 7,370 (I went a lil overboard lmao, but it’s wicked good)

(series is ongoing)

“Close your eyes,” he managed to speak after a moment of not being able to breathe.

“Din - ,” she begins to question, but he just pushes the pad of his thumb into her mouth. Just the tip of it sliding between her lips and it quieted her in an instant.

“Close… your… eyes,” he requests again, but this time with more stability in his tone. Drawing the short sentence out with small pauses between the words, accentuating each one. Letting go of a breath she didn’t know she was holding she lets her eyelids fall closed. She feels the warmth of his hand leave her face and her bottom lip pouts a little at the loss of contact. Suddenly there’s a sharp hiss and immediately she knows the sound, Din was taking off his helmet. The significance of the situation became tenfold at the thought of him baring his face to her, if not visually but physically. Her breath shook with each passing second as he took her hands and placed them on either sides of his face, caressing the sparse beard along his jaw. Running her finger along the jawline she feels a bald patch and lightly presses her thumb to it. Tracing it slowly as a small smile creeps onto her face, it’s in the shape of a heart.

“What’re you smiling about?” Din asks in a joking tone, however some worry lies below the surface as insecurity breaks through. She doesn’t answer for a minute as she continues to trace his face, the beauty of it striking her once more as she feels the curve of his nose, strong brow, and gorgeous pouted lips.

“You’re so handsome, Din,” she responds lightly, not wanting to scare him off with too much praise. She could barely contain herself as she ran her fingers over the canvas of him, his skin as warm as it looks and so much softer than she thought. He grew hotter to the touch at each passing moment, barely being able to think, all he could do was try to contain himself from enveloping her completely within him. He moved even closer to her and she could feel the soft movement of his breath touching her face. Taking her hands from his frame, he held one as he placed his lips just centimeters from hers. She froze not wanting to move, not wanting this moment to stop for anything as he speaks once again, his lips barely grazing hers as he does so.

“Thank you,” he whispers, and gently kisses her to conclude his gratitude. All of time and space stops around them, she can’t move for a moment, turned to stone in the face of raw tenderness. Sensing her hesitation he begins to lighten the pressure of his lips on hers, but as he does she melts into him. Her whole frame pliable in his grasp, lips molding to his slowly, at his will in every sense. Having cupped her hands to his cheeks again she pulls him in deeper and begins to quicken the kiss into something more desperate. With her eyes still closed and kissing him, Din stands slowly, breaking the kiss as he does. She doesn’t open her eyes but her brows knit in confusion over them. Just as quickly as his lips left hers his hand found purchase under her jaw, tilting her beautiful face up towards him and guiding her to her feet by her chin. Her breath shakes in anticipation, the blindness causing her to be more aroused than she thought it would, the idea of one of her senses being at his disposal causing heat to pool in the haven between her thighs. Suddenly she is engulfed by him as he loses control just a little bit, pushing her up onto the control panels as his lips slot over hers again, her hands finding purchase in his hair as her legs hooked up onto his waist. Still cradling her jaw in one of his large hands he tilts her head to the side and brushes his soft lips over that small space between her shoulder and her neck. He hums in contentment at the sweet taste of her skin, exactly how he had imagined it. Soft moans begin to fall from her lips and Din almost chokes at the sound, having thought of that sound so many times before as he tried to conjure it in his mind late at night. But now it was at his fingertips, keening her chest into his as he continues to place open mouthed kisses up the column of her neck. Gliding his fingertips down her arm he grabs her wrist and pins it behind her back as he leans her backwards into the controls, not caring which buttons were being pressed. Her breath hitches in her throat and Din can barely think as he can hear it begin to quicken, groaning as he grinds his now growing erection into her, the hard length running up the expanse of her inner thigh.

“Stop, stop… I can’t breathe!” She suddenly, shouts as she pushes him off of her. Her eyes are still closed, but her face was contorted in stress and he knew that if he could see her eyes they would be riddled with fear. His confusion clouded his thoughts for a moment as he gathered himself, trying to assess what he had done wrong to cause her so much distress. The realization hit him with the force of a N-1 Naboo Starfighter coming out of hyperdrive, as most realizations did. Din cursed at himself for being so ignorant that for a moment he only saw her desires as something for him to take, when they should be cherished instead. Feeling a sudden pain of guilt in realizing he also shouldn’t have pressured her into this kind of position with what she’s just been through.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. What can I do? What do you need? I’m so sorry cyare. Maker, I’m an idiot!” Din rambles, stepping forward hesitantly trying not to startle her away from him. She puts her hands up having heard him shuffle forward, keeping her chin tucked as she shielded him from the tear lined eyes, breathing heavily as she tries to gather herself before speaking.

“No, I - it’s okay. I just need time,” she says, still a little breathless but coming back to herself somewhat. Shaking her head she lifts her face to him and wipes her cheeks quickly, eyes closed again. She can’t see but his heavy brow knits itself together in anguish at the notion that he had made her cry, his bottom lip trembling and voice breaking as he speaks.

“Cyare… of course, all the time you need, anything you want,” he says and all he wants to do is hold her once again, becoming akin to the feeling of her skin to his. Din was always most at peace with her in his arms, finding solace in the dark of their sleeping courters the past couple of nights. The gravitas of her was forceful enough to disrupt the trajectory of a Mandalorian, and Din was starting to realize he didn’t want it any other way. A small smile creeps upon her lips at his words.

“Can we go to bed?” She asks him, reaching out wanting him again, her haven dawned in beskar. Din leans in to her touch, savoring the feeling of her fingertips gliding across his beard but wishing he could see those lovely eyes while also being able to feel her warm skin on his. She drags her thumb lightly up his jaw until it lands hesitantly over his lips, and she can’t see it but she feels the small smile that has crept onto his lips as he lays a kiss there.

“Elek, vor entye,” Din spoke in Mandalorian, and chuckled at the way her eyebrows cocked into a comical arch of confusion. “Yes, thank you,” Din translates for her.

“For what?” She asks, wrapping her arms around his neck as she opened her body to him again, letting him into her orbit, pulling him into the only thing that felt like home.

“For allowing me to share your bed again,” he whispers as he ducks his head down and brushes his lips to hers before connecting them fully. He doesn’t press forward this time, or move at all for that matter. Terrified he may cause her any type of stress or panic, he waited for her to move or escalate the situation to her liking. To his surprise she leaned in as she wrapped her arms tighter around his neck, placing one hand at the back of his head and running her hands through the dark locks. She breaks the kiss after several heated seconds pushing on his chest tenderly, moving him off of her much more gently then earlier in the evening.

“Can you bring me to bed, Din Djarin? If you’d let me, I’d love to fall asleep feeling you,” she whispers the last part, making Dins mouth fall agape. He was incredibly glad in that moment she couldn’t open her eyes or she would have seen the very rapidly reappearing erection in his flight suite. Without a word he grabs her hand and brings her to his sleeping chambers, allowing her time to bathe and change as he set an autopilot course to the station port they were in search of. He had calmed down considerably by the time he returned to his room, although when he saw her laying in his bed in only another thin tank top and panties, the bubble of arousal began in his lower abdomen again. He shed his armor slowly, trying to gain his composure before changing and slipping into bed with her. The fresh scent of the soap she uses radiating off of her and he wanted so desperately to press his nose into her neck and just inhale. In that moment, he realized… he could, so, he did. Smiling as he delved his nose into the junction of her neck and shoulder and breathing in deeply. She lets out a sharp burst of laughter at his sudden movements, surprised at his actions but thankful for the intimacy and appreciation nonetheless.

“Vor entye,” she giggles and Din swears his world stops for just a second, not being able to have seen that coming for miles. His heart clenches at the sound of his language falling from those supple lips. (translation: thank you)

“Darasuum,” he replies quietly, trying desperately to not have his voice betray the significance of the moment for him. (translation: always/ eternally)

She drifts to sleep with the weight of him keeping her grounded, her fingers tracing that small heart made by the bald patch on the side of his chin, with only her dreams floating off into the Milky Way.

——————————

“I’ll come with you,” she speaks hastily, trying to get his attention as he gathers his weapons from the hull of the great ship.

They had just docked it in one of the ports on Glavis, the man-made circular ring that made home to traders and business associates alike. Din knew that the certain Mandalorian that he was searching for, who he had referred to as The Armourer, had begun a new convert on the underbelly of the metal ring. He needed to find them again to receive instructions and to present The Armourer with the Dark saber, something Din never discussed and seemed made uncomfortable by. But first he had to complete a mission, sent to find a certain bounty on Glavis in order to receive directions to the convert.

“No,” he said flatly, the gravel of the modulator making his tone seem a little more malicious than it was meant to. “I can do it myself, I’m fine,” he exclaimed, raising a palm to face her in a dismissive action.

“No, no you’re not! Din you were shot, badly. Let me do this one, or at least let me help, please,” she pleads with him, reaching towards him and placing her palms to cup the cheeks of his helmet.

“Let me,” she says, but this time it’s a demand and he knows now that she wasn’t going to give him another option.

“Fine, but you stay behind me the entire time,” he says gruffly, not sure of how this bounty mission would go. Din doesn’t allow her any time to counter him with another argument as he hands her some weapons from the artillery storage.

“Go get ready,” he says and with a sharp turn he exits the hull of the ship.

—————————

She stood outside the butcher shop with the solid weight of unease beginning to set in the pit of her stomach. Not wanting to leave him alone on this hunt because of his injury, she was now regretting agreeing to hang back during it. But he left her no choice, he wouldn’t let her. It was almost this innate thing between them, this understanding that they would do anything for each other, death not even being the darkest of requests.

When she began to hear clamoring within the butcher shop walls, she tensed and leaned forward around the corner to peer through the thick sheets of plastic separating the rooms. She moves through the plastic quickly the second she hears his cry of pain, a short-clipped roar of agony. Her heart froze in her chest for just a second, swearing to Maker that her whole body ceased to function at the thought of him leaving her alone in the universe. As she pushes through the crowd of dog-like beings she can hear his growing grunts of strain, and then she sees it. The glowing light of the Dark saber radiated through another wall of the thick plastic curtains, and with a final roar he seems to bring the sword down onto something. In that cry she can hear more than just his tangible pain, she can hear his rage, his emotional hurt. Moments later Din emerges holding a small canvas sack, which she knew contained the head of the bounty they had been looking for. His visor turns to her for just a moment and she furrows her brow in concern at the way he’s holding himself, leaning his entire body weight onto one leg. He then turns to the rest of the group, all of them left silent at the sight of their employers head in a bag.

“There is a great amount of credits left within that office that I am not entitled to. If you will let me pass you can have full reign of whatever remains from your former boss’ riches.” Din announced and there was a slight pause amongst the group but only until one moved and then suddenly all of them were clamoring towards the door behind Din. Taking several steps through the crowd towards her, she notices he is still favoring one leg so she moves towards him and almost instinctively he fell into her frame. With a grunt she moves his arm to encircle her shoulders, allowing him to put his full body-weight onto her.

"Din, what -," she begins to question but he cut her off.

"I told you to stay put," his tone was menacing and it stung slightly.

"I know, but -," she starts to offer an explanation but Din was in too much pain to argue with her. A sharp hiss of pain from behind his helmet causes her to halt her movements as well as the conversation.

"No keep moving we need to deliver the bounty in order to receive the location of the convert. We can't lose time, especially now. The convert will have bacta spray to provide for the wound, but we need to get there quickly," he explains, sounding breathless through the modulator, and she begins walking again, Din in tow.

—————————

Din can barely breathe, but not because of the physical pain in his side and upper leg. No, because the Armourer was standing before him ordering him to leave the only family he's ever known.

"Leave, apostate," Paz Vizla sneers from his position on the floor, Din being the one who put him there in the first place. The words rattle in Dins brain, echoing within his mind; "Then you are a Mandalorian no more."

"Please, tell me how I can atone. I'll do anything, please," Din begs, knowing the answer he will be receiving will not be an easy task.

"In order for one to redeem themselves in Mandalorian culture, they must bathe in the Living Waters beneath the mines of Mandalore," The Armourer responds flatly, and Din's breathing faltered once again.

"But the mines were all destroyed in the Great Purge," he says, his voice much weaker now, wavering even.

"This is the Way," is the only thing The Armourer says in response to Din before she goes silent. Din knows he must leave, so he slowly ascends the metal stairs and gathers his things. Leaving the makeshift convert knowing he would never be able to return again, Din realized that he has never felt more lost and alone than in this moment right now. He ascends the vertical stairs once again to the world above the substrata. His leg was feeling much better than before but his whole body had gone numb, not allowing whatever ache was leftover to plague him. As he travels back to where he had left her in the side streets of Glavis, he looks at the small pouch containing the gift for Grogu that The Armourer had forged wondering how he must be fairing on the planet Ossus with the Jedi, Luke Skywalker. When he appears through the doors he barely has a second to register anything before warmth has engulfed him. She ran towards him, throwing her arms around his neck in a tight embrace, not having known if she would see him again. Before entering the convert he had instructed her to stay put once again as The Armourer wouldn't appreciate an outsider seeing the well-hidden convert. He had also mentioned that he didn't know when he would appear again, explaining that if they needed him for rebuilding he may not come back. In which case she would then take the ship and continue completing bounties until he could join her once more.

She's so ecstatic that he had returned so soon that she didn't stop to think of why. It was only when he didn't embrace her back, he just stood there stunned and unmoving. Pulling away from him slowly she places both hands on either side of his helm, trying to look into his eyes which she knew were staring straight back.

"Din...?" Her voice is light in questioning, her eyes holding as much care and concern as her tone. She hears him sigh through the modulator in the helmet and knew he was trying to figure out a way to say what he needed. He looked down quickly at a small pouch he held in his hand before looking back up at her and stuffing it in his side pocket.

"I - I... I can't," he stumbles over the words and the sentence ends in defeat as he knows they need to return to the ship, he would be able to explain everything to her once they got back.

"Ok, you don't have to," she says back softly, as if not to startle him. He nods slowly in response because he can't trust himself to not break apart this instant if he allows himself any bandwidth of emotion. She takes his gloved hand in hers and begins to slowly lead them back to the Razor Crest.

She doesn’t push him to speak, knowing it will only result in more silence. So she goes about the normal take-off routine when they arrive back at the Razor Crest, prepping the engines and setting the directive map up for Din to choose the location of their next stop. During this time Din has disappeared into his chambers, not making any noise and causing a great deal of unease to settle around her frame. What had happened to make him react this way? She thinks to herself and in a blind search for answers she thinks back to how he had reacted to her shutting herself away after the assault. Din had given her space, understanding that she needed some time from what had just happened, but she was also sure that he must have felt the exact same as she’s feeling now. As if the ground has moved out from under her, and she’s not just emotionally uneasy, but physically not stable. Her center of gravity feeling unmoored as he locks himself away from her.

Hours having passed now and they still haven’t left the port on Glavis because she was intent on letting him choose their next destination. However, Din failed to reappear even hours later and she was beginning to become restless sitting in the cockpit alone. She stands from the pilots seat and makes her way to his courters with a plan to ask him for a location so they could at least leave this awful port soon. Stopping just about a foot from his door she reaches out and knocks lightly, waiting to hear something but she doesn’t. It is completely quiet, not even a shuffle of movement can be heard beyond the threshold.

“Din?” She questions just loud enough for him to hear her as she knocks once again. It takes several moments but then she hears it, the shuffling of feet, the click of the door opening. Slowly he pulls back the door to reveal his frame no longer clad in beskar but just his normal flight suit with his helm still in place. He says nothing, just stands with his arms crossed over his chest.

“I was just wondering where you’d want to go next? I felt it only appropriate to give you the choice since it is your ship,” she says, the uneasy feeling only settling deeper in her stomach as he doesn’t respond but just walks right past her through the doorway. Her brow knits itself together in concern as she follows him up to the cockpit. When she appears in the cockpit she sees he has set their destination to a planet quite far from their current location. Ossus, the planet that Grogu now calls home, she thinks to herself.

“Ossus? But why would we be going to visit him?” She looks at Din in confusion as he sets the course and begins to move out of the room, grabbing his arm as he tries to move around her and out the door. “Din, please,” the look in her eyes pleading with him to tell her anything, or just give her some context of what in Maker’s name is going on. He doesn’t respond verbally but instead takes his arm from her grasp and reaches his hand into his pocket and takes out the small package he had placed in it earlier. Dropping it into her open palms he turns to walk back to his room, but she stops him.

“Don’t, just… leave me be,” Din says to her before she can speak, but as the words fall from his lips he sees her facial expression fall and the hurt in her eyes as he pushes her away, more than he already has in the last few hours. He instantly regrets it but he knows back-peddling now would be useless, he’s already done some damage.

“Ok,” she responds dejected and watches as he disappears into the vastness of the ship. She looks down at the small cloth package in her hand and was surprised at the weight of it for the size that it was. As she opens the small pouch she sees the glint of beskar shining back up at her, pulling it up she spreads it apart to see what it is.

Displayed in front of her was a small chain-link shirt, the perfect size for the small child. His first piece of armor, she thinks and smiles at that beautiful thought.

—————————

She lays alone in her cot, curling in on herself as she feels the emptiness seep into the space around her body. He filled that space for the past week, his body encasing hers in a warmth she hadn’t experienced before. Even when he was half dead on Sorgan, his presence while she slept seemed to bring her a peace unlike she ever knew. It felt as though he had made a home in her bones and his presence filled that home with a warmth that only he possessed. Her anxiety from the day isn’t allowing her to slip into sleep like she so desperately wants too as thoughts of Din plague her mind. Eventually sleep overtakes her but the peaceful sleep she was hoping for did not bless her that night.

Upon opening her eyes again, she’s back in that dark alley behind the cantina. Each time the dream reoccurs her assailant makes it even farther into succeeding at his goal, and each time she becomes more weak in her attempts to fight him off. Her limbs getting heavy the harder she strains against him, the paralyzing fear of realizing she’s lost control. Screaming to no end, into a night that doesn’t exist anywhere outside of her head now. Her voice goes raw, she can hear it as she continues to yell and shriek as loud as she can.

“Cyar’ika,” she hears it, but it’s not coming from Alec, it came from around her. The sound seeming to be only heard by her as Alec didn’t stop his actions. She hears her name then, coming from all around her, repeating itself over and over and suddenly she knows that voice. (translation: sweetheart)

Din.

She awakes with a gasp of air, tears streaming down her face, mid-sob as she clutches to Din. It got bad this time, she did her best to reassure herself it wasn’t real, it was just the dream. But it was real, it did happen and the dreams were her constant reminder of that. The images crossing her mind again and again as Din continues to run slow circles into her temples with his thumbs.

“Cyare, breathe. Look at me,” Din instructed calmly, trying to get her to focus on what her eyes were actually perceiving. Her brain began to take in his form slowly, and when she did she realized he had only boxers and his helm adorning his perfectly sculpted body. Trying to steady her breathing became just a little bit harder as she took in his bare form. The whiplash of emotions made her dizzy and she closed her eyes in order to focus again.

Din repeats her name again, still calm but let’s out a small sigh when she closes her eyes once more.

“Look at me, please. It’s me, Din. I’m here, you’re safe, you’re okay,” He continues to soothe her, and she slowly opens her eyes again now having gained slightly more composure she focuses solely on the T in his visor. Din could see she was coming back to herself, resurfacing into the reality they were currently in.

“There she is, ner kar’ta,” he smiles softly at her, she returns the smile as best she can and he knows she’s come back to him. She then moves quicker than expected and practically knocks him to the floor as she crawls into Dins lap in an effort to be held by the only person in the whole universe that could affect her this way. Shift her whole world, her own center of gravity completely decimated by him alone. (translation: my heart)

Somewhat startled by her sudden movement he takes a second to completely envelope her in an embrace, holding her body as close to his as possible. She had stopped sobbing, the tears having subsided altogether but her cheeks remained damp and red. Her eyes swollen and her voice barely there when she speaks.

“It was really bad this time,” she whispers after several moments of them staying like that. Din’s stomach turns at the thought and his only desire is to make it all go away for her, to make it disappear into the infinite vastness of space and never haunt her again.

“I’m sorry, so so sorry cyare,” Din whispers back, placing the curve of his helm to her temple. She looks at him in pure confusion at this remark.

“For what? You woke me up, if anything I should be thanking you,” her voice still hoarse but gaining a little more volume. He shook his head as he cast his gaze downwards, not knowing how to tell her something he couldn’t even face himself yet. Feeling as though an explanation was being prepared in his silence she went back to admiring the frame of the lovely man cradling her in his large arms.

“I’m sorry for… for not being here,” he struggles to find the words, but she’s still doesn’t understand so he continues in his explanation.

“You haven’t had a nightmare since we started to share our chambers at night. I- I shouldn’t have shut myself away, I should’ve been here tonight,” he sighs solemnly, blaming himself yet again for an incident that quite literally has nothing to do with him. Yet, he carries so much guilt about it.

“It’s okay, Din. You asked for space so I gave you it, this isn’t your fault,” she looks up to his visor to meet his eyes behind the helm. They stay like this for a moment, just looking at one another, and even though she can’t see those chocolate pools of color she knows they’re staring right back. It was then that Din moved slightly, trying to shift her weight off of him.

“I’ll be right back, not even leaving the room,” he chuckles as her expression turns to a pout when he stands and walks away from the bed. He then turns the lights off in the small sleeping courters, leaving them in darkness. She sits patiently on the cold floor waiting for him to return and fill her with that familiar warmth, but then she hears the small hiss of his helmet being removed and she draws in a small gasp. He was completely bare now besides the black boxers covering his wide hips and mid-region. However she couldn’t see him, nor would she ever try, feeling him was more than enough for her to be satiated with. Her eyes take a minute to adjust in the blackness but she can see a slight outline of his broad frame coming slowly towards her. Din stops only inches before her, taking her hand in his and guiding her to sit up on the cot. Din then kneels before her and without words he leads that same hand to place her thumb once again upon his lips, kissing it lightly.

“Nothing, and I mean nothing will hurt you again. Least of all, me. The day I bring tears to those eyes out of pain is the day I lose myself completely, because my truest form is found in loving you.” Din whispers this confession into her palm as he moved down her hand, kissing every inch of skin as he spoke. He finalized the sentence with a kiss to her palm, which he then brought to his cheek to rest his head in. She does feel tears begin to prick at the edges of her eyes, daring to fall, but not out of pain. Her breathing faltered as he admitted to loving her, because she didn’t realize how long she had waited to hear those words be reciprocated to her.

“Din,” she speaks somewhat breathless and voice shaking with overwhelming love. “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum,” she says it so quietly, somewhat broken as her Mando’a was still choppy at best. But he heard it, and she could feel his breath hitch in his throat when he did. Not having known she knew that much of his mother tongue, and being stunned by her confession as well. (translation: I love you/ direct translation: I will know you forever)

“Darasuum,” he responds and in seconds his hands are cradling her face as he brings his lips to hers. This time however he is much softer, touching her as if she was made of glass. Her hands find themselves weaving into his soft, curly hair. Holding him to her as she begins to pull back but does not separate the kiss. Instead, she holds him to her lips and brings him to sit up between her legs. Throwing his toned arms around her waist Din splays his hands over her back, cradling her to him as he kisses back eagerly. He begins to move slowly down her jaw until stopping suddenly, raising his head to look at her. (translation: always/eternally)

“Are you okay? Is this okay?” Din asks nervously, trying his best to not put any unnecessary force into his actions, still treating her like the precious being she is.

“You are not the cause of this pain, Din. You are the salve that heals me from it,” she answers him softly, putting her hands on either side of Din’s head and resting her forehead upon his own. “Heal me, Din Djarin,” this time her tone drops slightly to something more seductive and Din couldn’t help the way he clung to her in that moment. He continued his decent down her throat, kissing fervently but once reaching her pulse point he suckles ever so lightly causing her to moan. His touch was feather light and yet it held her to the bed like gravity itself. Pulling back just enough to speak, Din brings himself level with her.

“Lay back ner kar’ta, relax I have you,” he says soothingly, reaching over to grab her pillow that lay beside them to position it beneath her. Din wanted nothing more than for her to be as comfortable as possible as he lost himself within her, bringing her as much pleasure as he possibly knew how. The notorious Mandalorian, although known for his ruthless reputation out in the universe, he wasn’t known by many in the bedroom. Only having slept with several women in his life, all while still dawning the beskar helmet and armor, this experience was going to be completely new to him. But Maker, he couldn’t get the thought of what she must taste like out of his head, so he thought he might indulge himself tonight. (translation: my heart)

“You are so breathtakingly stunning, I would like to ask to taste you cyare. It’s driving me insane to not know but if that’s not what you want we don’t have to.” Din mouths the words against her skin as he begins to move lower to her chest, peppering kisses down her sternum as she continued to card her hands through his hair. She giggles at his question, and he pulls away to look in the direction of her face. Even though she would not be able to tell his expression had taken on something similar to confusion as he didn’t understand what was funny about his question.

“Thank you for asking, ner kar’ta. But I thought I already made it clear; heal me Din Djarin, in any way you know how,” she whispers into his lips as they press into hers to confirm their mutual consent. He smiles into the kiss and then continues his decent on her torso, stopping first at her right breast. She was only wearing a thin sleep-shirt and underwear when he had awoken her from her nightmare. The shirt had been discarded at some point, Din couldn’t remember when but he didn’t care. All he knew was the sounds she was making as he laved at her peaked nipple could bring him to his knees any day. Sucking just hard enough to draw those honey-sweet moans from her mouth. Holding one of her hands in his, Din’s other hand became occupied with tweaking the nipple of the other breast. This caused her to arch her chest into the pressure, panting lightly and moaning his name softly. Din’s mouth left her nipple hesitantly, but he knew his final destination was his focus right now. He would spend an entire forthcoming evening showing her his adoration for her breasts. With a groan at the thought he drags his lips from her chest and begins peppering kisses along the skin of her stomach causing her to giggle once more. The corners of Din’s mouth quirk upwards at the sound, having become accustom to it he loves to hear it any time he can now. As Din reaches the threshold of her underwear, he pauses once again to give her a chance to decline his advances, but she does not. Slowly, he begins to place open mouthed kisses across the elastic of the fabric, and when he reaches the corner hugging her hip, he clasps it in his teeth and drags them down her legs in one motion.

She gasps at the sudden cold that caresses her sex, only becoming more damp by the second as Din reaches beneath each of her thighs to spread them apart. Placing each thigh on each one his muscular shoulders, he pauses for a moment and looks up at her one final time. Not being able to make out much in the darkness but a vague frame, he just wanted one more reassurance from her.

She knew what he was asking for, so she slowly gathered one of his hands in hers and brought it to cradle her face, guiding his thumb to her lips and kissing it lightly. Just as Din had done earlier. But to his surprise he feels her lips begin to part and she takes his thumb into her mouth, sucking it lightly and groaning as she does.

With this, Din couldn’t help himself, using his free hand he pushes her thigh up to a steeper angle. Leaning forward and dipping his head he flattens his tongue and draws a thick stripe up her cunt, causing a sharp moan to leave her lips and her legs to instinctively tighten around his head. As Din began to work his way through each silky fold he groaned at the sweet taste of her, the hand that was not occupied by her beautiful lips was finding its way to her entrance. For a moment he takes his mouth off of her and she groans in frustration this time, feeling a burning sensation erupt at the base of her spine.

“Din, please I -,” she begins a plea to him but is cut off with a gasp when two of his fingers dip into her entrance. Shifting himself upwards he lays soft kisses to her throat, moving slowly down to her collarbones and then her breast’s. All the while beginning to slowly pump his fingers into her, curling them slightly when he got knuckle deep.

“So warm, cyar’ika. Maker, fuck you’re so damn tight!” Din exclaims, beginning to quicken the pace of his fingers as he sucks tenderly at her breast, drawing deep groans from her as the sparks of pleasure set ablaze within her veins. Arching her back, she presses her chest up into his mouth once more causing a moan to escape his lips. Pulling away from her pebbled nipple, he peppers kisses down her abdomen, and very slowly brings his thumb to start rubbing at her clit as his fingers continue to work her open.

The moans of his name almost made him finish right there as the pressure on her clit was bringing her impending orgasm on quicker than she had thought. No man had ever made her feel as Din was at this moment, so perfectly pleasuring her in a way she’d never known before.

“Oh, fuck Din! Maker, don’t stop. Feels… feels so good,” her breathless pleas were punctuated with loud moans as he continued his ministrations. His lips had found purchase on her hips, sucking dark marks along the curve of each one, wanting her to feel as much of the love he possessed for her.

Through his own lust-fogged mind he registered a small flutter beginning within her as her walls began to contract even more so. He could barely breathe at the thought of what this would feel like when he was actually making love to her. How she would grip him so tightly he wouldn’t be able to see straight, lost in her beautiful ocean.

“That’s it, cyare. Just like that. You’re close? Yeah?” he says, his tone almost teasing as he moves to place her legs back into their rightful place on his shoulders. Her moans had grown considerably in volume and he knew she was right there, right on the precipice of bliss.

It’s when he removes his thumb from her clit and replaces it with his tongue that she snaps completely. Becoming intelligible as her orgasm began to rock through her, but it wasn’t a fast ascent into euphoria. No, it felt as though it was a nuclear explosion, the initial reaction being intense but the aftershocks. Din was groaning loudly into her as he had removed his fingers and was drinking in her release like a man starved of it.

He had been, at least he thought so. Now that he knew exactly what she felt like when she came undone for him, he was insatiable. Knowing that she was the only one who would have him like this for the rest of his life. His hands gripped either of her thighs, spreading her open and lapping her up as she tried her best to gather her breath. She was shaking from the intensity of it all, bliss being so potent in her veins she didn’t know how it was even possible her body was shivering like this. Din finally pulls away from her, his mouth slick with her release as a large smile adorns his face.

“Just give me one moment, I’m going to step out to the refresher and I’ll be right back, I swear to you,” he says reassuringly before crossing the small room and disappearing out the door. He does return moments later, and when he takes his place between her splayed legs again he places a warm cloth to the inside of her thigh.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her hand coming to cup his cheek. She still can’t see him but she feels the small smile that flits across his lips, desperately wishing she could see it. Din cleans her up with care, gingerly touching her sensitive mound with the cloth as he rubs soothing circles into her hip with his other hand.

“I will always take care of you, ner kar’ta,” he responds gently, placing a soft kiss to the inside of her knee before standing and tossing the rag aside. She shifts so she is laying down and moves to offer him the space. Without hesitation he gathers her into his arms and begins to place kisses to her temple and hairline. Whispering reassurances into her hair as she falls asleep, vowing to protect her with his life. Promising to love her as he knows how; deeply and everlasting. The steadiness of her breathing is his indication that she has finally found peace in her slumber. Continuing to hold her to him and trace soft shapes along her bare back, he thinks of how much he wants to know her like this forever. Thinking of how her gravity makes him feel as though he can just lay down and become one with her world, sink deep into her soil to never been seen again.

So, Din promises himself then and there that he will make that a reality. Not now, not for a while, but he knew that in the end it was her, it will always be her.

She is his darasuum

She is his new home.

#pedro pascal #din djarin #din djarin x f!reader #the mandalorian #din djarin fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #star wars #din djarin angst #the mandalorian angst #din djarin smut #din djarin x reader #sw the mandalorian #the mandalorian smut #pedro pascal smut

[astromechs]

also 💛 for matt/jessica! (please)

this is the slowest i am ever circling back through anything LMAO but i missed these disaster children, so here we are ❤️ from this list; also on ao3!

When he comes to, everything’s disoriented. It’s the ringing in his ears that overtakes pretty much everything, making it impossible to get any bearings, relentless and painful; all that filters through is the scent of copper — blood, his own blood — and between that and the ringing, he can’t stabilize any sense of balance for more than a second.

Is this a concussion? Maybe; the last thing he remembers is being thrown into a wall, and the crack he’d heard had been an indication that his helmet hadn’t survived the impact completely intact. In the end, though, Matt can’t be sure — and he also can’t afford to waste any time trying to be, if they’re still out there.

Slowly, he reaches for what hard surface he can (pavement), curling both of his hands into fists as he pushes himself up; he tastes the copper as well as smells it now, more intensely than he has over the past few minutes, and he can feel the skin split from his knuckles. He swallows down bile, bites back nausea (literally, with the inside of his cheek caught between teeth), as he finds unsteady feet and wills himself to keep standing.

His heart rattles in his own chest; his breaths are rasping and shallow, caught only with difficulty.

But they can still, nevertheless, be caught. He can still get to work.

The sounds and smells of Hell’s Kitchen come back to him, one by one, as the ringing starts to fade. There’s the scent of urine and burned rubber wafting in from down the block, which, in combination with an entire assembly of every sugary Starbucks latte known to man passing by, almost makes that nausea come right back. Between cab horns being slammed and the constant rumble of engines around, there are snatches of conversation that reach him — discussions of plans for the rest of the night, relationship drama, more than one “Fuck!” about one forgotten item or another.

Nothing from anyone he’d been tracking, fighting. Somewhere in between him making contact with the wall and regaining consciousness, they’d had time to clear the area and go back to wherever their base of operations is, which he still hasn’t been able to track, even after following them every night for weeks.

Matt drives one hand still curled into a fist, which he hadn’t bothered to flatten, into the wall behind him. If he feels, hears, a bone snap, he ignores it; this is exactly what he deserves for letting these people get away again.

Footsteps coming from nearby, though, derail that line of thought and draw his attention, and so does what comes with it: a combined scent of leather, sweat, and whiskey that can only belong to one person he knows.

The breath he hears is hitched, the accompanying heartbeat quick and scattered; he swears he can pick up on a hint of salt in the air, and the realization has something sticking in his throat. There isn’t much time to put all this together, though, because in the next instant —

He’s nearly bowled over from the force of another body colliding with his, of lips crashing into his with absolutely no mercy.

It takes a second to regain what precarious sense of balance he’d managed to find, but he winds an arm around Jessica’s shoulder and pulls her in close as he can hear her heart begin to steady, opens himself up to the taste of salt, copper, and 80 proof, but what also, maybe, just maybe, seems like relief.

Not that she’d ever admit it — but there’s something warm and easy that settles in his chest at the thought.

Breaking apart comes slowly — and with breath much more difficult to catch than before. Her fingers are soft, a stark contrast to everything Jessica Jones nearly always is, as they reach for his face and graze over skin; her inhale is sharp, just subtly so, when they pause over something (where he figures the blood, at least in part, is coming from).

The helmet’s definitely going to need a repair, he thinks — and to be fortified with something stronger.

Her fingers drop, and with a swish of fabric, he assumes that she’s dropped both of her hands back down by her sides. The sounds of the city, never stopping for anyone or anything, fill in the space that’s returned between them; neons buzz, a man yells at a cab driver three blocks away, shoes scuffle against pavement, someone’s phone clatters out of their fingers, faint drops of rain begin to hit brick and metal hoods.

He doesn’t know how much time passes before he finally steps into it, in a voice that’s still raspy even after he’s swallowed down the dryness in his throat. “What happened?”

“Luke,” is all she offers him at first, a shift in the leather of her jacket indicating a shrug. When he tilts his head, she huffs out an irritated sigh, and adds, “He and I beat the shit out of them when they beat the shit out of you. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Under his cracked helmet, he lifts an eyebrow. “You called Luke?”

“Texted him, one-handed, while I punched a guy.” With the way he can hear her eyes moving in their sockets, it’s clear that she’s rolling them; actually, that alone is clear enough from the tone of her voice. “Don’t even start thinking about gift baskets, because he hates that shit, and so do I.”

He can’t help the faint snort that escapes him then. He also can’t help the grin that slowly begins to stretch on his face. “So you were worried about me.”

“Shut up,” Jessica tells him, with much less force than she could. “Or I won’t let you finish later.”

“Is that a threat, Miss Jones?” His grin spreads. “Because if so, I may have to call my —”

She cuts off his joke with another kiss before he’s able to even get it off the ground, and, honestly, Matt has to concede that doing so might be a benefit to everyone involved.

#matt murdock #jessica jones #darejones #* fic #asks #latrodectal #kiss snippet meme

[half-truths-and-hyperbole-louk]

Louk's Bad Batch rewatch part 12 !!!

buckle up batchers we're in for it 😬

The Bad Batch 1x08

CROSSHAIR BACK FINALLY !!! I missed you grumpy toothpick man 💕

idk why but Rampart gives me the vibe that he can't swim and I just wanna gently shove him off a platform on kamino and just see what happens

Wrecker teaching Omega about bombs 🥺 then he just goes 'lmao now you try' 💀

"OBVIOUSLY NOT THAT ONE" brooo 🤣

his laughhhh I love you Wrecker

"I failed my first disarming test too" ~ Wrecker bby... is that how he got his scars? 🥲

Omega: "Wrecker says he's got it under control" Tech: "that's not comforting" PLS- 💀

ECHO HOW DID YOU GET UP THERE ??

oop well his chip has been removed but I'll keep counting I guess, just for funsies, Wrecker hits his head count: 9?

mom and dad are arguing again

Hunter 🤔 face

wait why did I never notice that they all still have their lil bandages on 🥺

Tech: "the power's back on" Wrecker: "yeah we can see that" lmao me yesterday @anonymous-galager 😅

"Come here beautiful" ~ Wrecker kissing bombs

mom and dad are arguing again

Omega is Tech's little helper 💕 it's giving handing your dad tools and holding the torch as a kid

idk why but I like that you can see Tech's chin under his helmet when he looks up

I wanna sit in a glowy kamino chair

Tech: "Crosshair won't be able to detect us, I'm blocking their scanners" Hunter: "that won't stop him" Crosshair: 'we won't be able to detect them they're blocking our scanners' 💀

REGS 💕

Tech and Echo scheming in plain sight hehe

Omega trying to be Crosshairs voice of reason too 😭

Crosshair steps forward the slightest bit and Hunter steps fully in front of her asjfoapaldue

"aim for the kid" CROSSHAIR NO 😡 *squirts with water bottle*

I find it interesting that when Crosshair says that, Hunter pushes Omega behind him, but he also turns around, almost as if he's not expecting Crosshair to shoot Omega first, he turns back to look at the regs first before moving again to face Crosshair

and still none of them fire...

Hunter picking Omega up again and diving on her 🥲

lol I love that Wreckers first instinct to being shot at with fire is to throw an explosive at the dude

Tech helping Omega into the engine chamber 🥺

Omega: "I've never been inside an ion engine before" Wrecker: "it'd be weirder if you had" 💀

Wrecker shoving Tech BRO

I think it's interesting that when Crosshair shoots at them, he only shoots AT them. we all know he doesn't miss and he is nowhere close to actually getting Tech or Hunter with that shot 👀 just thinking out loud

"try again Hunter" he is just taunting them

Wrecker: "what about plan 7?" Echo: "plan 7 has nothing to do with this situation whatsoever!" he is so done 💀💀

absolutely adore the shot of all their hands grabbing explosives 💕

Hunter bent down to give Omega a boost up and Tech caught her and held her up !!! = Hunter just threw Omega to Tech 😂

Hunter covers Omega with his body again 😭

Crosshair's scream when he realised what was happening I- 🙃🔫

Wrecker catches Echo 🥺

Hunter bodily catches Omega 😭 "I've got you" ~ Hunter 😭😭😭😭

HUNTER WAS HOLDING ONTO HER THE WHOLE TIME THEY WERE FALLING

Crosshair immediately collapsing 😫😭

rip CT-8508 ily

oh look it's my favourite blue bounty hunter toothpick cowboy twink

lmao Cad Bane calling Hunter "son"

Omega reading Hunters hand signals 🥺

"That's unfortunate ... for you" ~ Cad Bane (s2 Tawni Ames 👀)

I can feel the hatred in Hunters eyes through his visor ooooo he mad

I can't deal with Omega's scared scream sobs 😫

Todo you're fine hush

"Little lady" hehehe

CROSSHAIR BROKE HIS LEG AND HIS ARM AND BURNED HIS FACE (and probably his lungs) I hate it here 😭

are we gonna talk about the Hunter POV groggy wake up visor cam scene??? *sigh* no, next time

Wrecker grabbing Omega's bow 🥲

Wrecker getting defensive immediately thinking Crosshair took Omega 😭

NO TBB OUTRO MUSIC

welp I am getting increasingly more stressed for s3 creeping up on us and me running out of time for my rewatch lol

I'm gonna do a few episodes a day now so these posts might start getting boring if they're not already lmao

thanks for joining friendsss 💕💕💕

#louk’s bad batch rewatch #star wars #the bad batch #the bad batch hunter #hunter bad batch #tbb wrecker #tech bad batch #bad batch hunter #bad batch tech #wrecker bad batch #tbb tech #hunter tbb #hunter the bad batch #tbb echo #echo tbb #echo bad batch #wrecker tbb #bad batch wrecker #clone trooper wrecker #the bad batch tech #tech the bad batch #tech tbb #omega tbb #omega bad batch #tbb omega #crosshair the bad batch #crosshair bad batch #the bad batch crosshair #cad bane #bounty hunter

[pugscoffee]

Just sharing some old ass memes what i made and some Incorrect Quotes what made me laugh 🤙🏻✨️

(Most of them are CraigKnight btw)

This one was inspired by the fact what Knight 5* sprite emulates the wings of an angel in their helmet and the cape

They're for me the kind of friends/couple who blocks eachother for stuff like this in their social medias but still looking at eachother tweets with an alt-account,and when they see something to argue about they just. Unblock the other account to tweet eachother in their main and repeat the cycle 💀

It would be really funny if "Knight" was their real name tbh

LMFAO-💀

Lapice,Eugene,Coco,Bianca,Marina and Arabelle being Knight's besties squad is so real to me actually.

Poor Coco lmao-

Sounds so them tbh AHSKSHALS

#guardian tales #CraigKnight #GaramKnight #Yuze GT #Knight GT #Sohee GT #Marianne GT #Memes #admin bullshitery #Craig GT #Fei GT #I am very normal about them (lying)

[showrunnerihardlyknowher]

Does the infection within your NGE ripoff have stages? For example, in the beginning, if one is infected, you are just high alert before extreme paranoia rises (along with physical manifestations such as Taiyo's tentacle fingers and arms). If this is the case, what stages did Taiyo go through and what stage is he currently experiences within the timeline of this story? Or is it fast acting that it takes immediate hold on the host? Genuinely curious if you thought out anything about this.

I have thought about it quite a bit because it's been in my little noggin for like 2-3 years lmao

It all definitely depends on a) the scale/strength of a host and b) how much the parasite was able to infect. In Taiyo's case, he's pretty freaking big compared to a human (who tend to become fully infected within a day or two) and his infection point was a wound made on his side that's minor enough not to incapacitate him. Because of that, his infection is much slower and appears more in "stages" rather than rapid symptoms.

The very first stage is that even though he does clean and dress his wound, he doesn't tell anyone about the extent of his injury despite that at this stage there's a solid chance he could be treated. Something in his mind is resisting the idea of revealing his infection, which is actually just the parasite forcing its host to avoid fully getting rid of it. His senses also gradually heighten, especially hearing and smelling, to the point it can become irritable with how overstimulating it can be. He's never quite comfortable; always too hot or too cold or too stiff, but he masks it as best he can.

Eventually, the infection will spread further along his body, although most of it is hidden under his suit and because again, he hides his sickness. That's when the blackened veins start becoming more pronounced on his skin. There's this new urge to maim and bite and feed that pounds in his skull like a migraine, but he's able to keep that to himself or only give in to the more primal instincts when he can take out the aggression on another parasite he's fighting. Overtime, it becomes more and more obvious he's struggling with keeping instincts and logic separated, more so to Kumiko because now he's being extra clingy with her (due to the heightened instinct to protect).

And of course, it starts to come to a head when the infection physically manifests on him, primarily on his left side as that was where the wound originated from. That includes fully darkening the skin, external teeth, barbed tendrils, arm spikes, claws, and additional eyes. The accommodation of these new features causes the left arm of his suit to be broken off and prior to that, he had already lost his helmet in the original fight that led to him becoming infected, so it's no longer easy to hide that something clearly Is Not Right. In his defense, he didn't know it had gotten this bad until he was reaching for Kumiko to block an attack from hitting her, only for his gauntlet to practically explode with tendrils wrapping her up instead. She cut herself free of those pretty quick.

Unfortunately, he can only keep the parasitic instincts at bay for so long before he ultimately gives in. And that does include using humans to feed on. At first, he did so in secret because he knew it was wrong and would extremely upset Kumiko, and only a few humans at a time were enough to satiate him to take back control of his instincts. When Kumiko catches him doing so as the hunger becomes more intense, it's the last straw for her, because she can't stand this dude to begin with, let alone when he's literally becoming the monsters she's fighting. She's lucky enough that even in the throes of his infection, he doesn't see her as another food source or potential host to also infect. Instead, his protection is now borderline possession dialed up to a twenty-seven, because the feeling was so strong within him that the infection could only warp his perspective than get rid of it entirely.

There's some fun other factors that the infection can do with Taiyo and where it ultimately leads him at the end of their story, but that's to save when it's been written ;)

#ask #anon #oc taiyo #nge rip off #god i wanna start this story so bad but im in the middle of a workshop for college rn which is why ive only been focusing on writing for th #and also i have to write scp pt 2 first #but we'll get there one day

[corrieguards]

WIP WEDNESDAY!!

Tysm for the tag!! @sleepingsun501 and @ghostofskywalker Been having a bit of writers block lately, so haven't been writing as much as I'd like to😬

Still, here's a really long snippet from a Thorn x reader fic I've been working on. It's not very rivetting but it's the best I got rn lmao

You’ve been to the lower levels of Coruscant before, but never this far down.

It's...disgusting.

You lift your boot to take a step forward and feel it slowly unstick from the floor. Horrified, you look down to see the pavement coated with a layer of grime so slimy that it almost seems to shine under the dim neon lights lining the faces of the buildings along the street.

Even the very air around you somehow feels stale and reused. It reminds you of when you’ve been wearing a helmet too long and the filters are beginning to be in dire need of a clean.

You’re suddenly hit with a wave of pity that people actually live here, in these conditions. Children are born here, to grow out knowing nothing more than these dim lights and grimy floors.

You turn to Thorn, expecting him to be having a similar reaction to you, but he seems entirely unphazed, casually rolling his shoulders back and mindlessly patting his waist as it to make sure his blaster is still securely fastened to it’s holster hidding under his shirt.

And with another wave of pity, you realise that he too must be accustomed to this. To the filth and grime. This is the Corries district after all, and you wouldn't be at all surprised if they end up having to spend more time down here then up above in their barracks.

NPTs🖤 @wizardofrozz @honeydjarin @sinfulsalutations @deejadabbles

#tag game #wip game

[punkwixes]

Saw ur tags. No, reddit threads are not the place for real humans. Want a bike helmet recommendation? Go to a bike store. Try them on. Talk to the guys that ride the bikes. Like not u specifically but that whole post whipped me into a rage. Go to a real physical place and talk to people. For fucks sake. Sorry.

lmaooo this is such a weird and aggressive ask, id love to just block your ass but also i just wanna say: the guys at the bike store are motivated to sell things to you! they do not always have your best interest at heart! sorry but that is just The Nature Of Sales, i have BEEN that guy!

also i’ve been the customer at the bike store before & i gotta say: there is no guarantee that any given person shopping at a specialty store has a level of expertise.

but also i am specifically thinking about wedding venues here. lmao. my experience with looking for venues within my needs & budget is that there is not a Married People Store you can go to lmao. i’m not hiring a wedding planner, i’m looking for “what was your experience with venues like xyz, or do you have similar recommendations?” so that i can then go there in person and investigate myself.

so incredibly sorry for not saying “the only way to get real humans in online reviews, which are becoming more and more composed of ai & sponsored posts”, which one would assume is implied in the nature of the post. please examine the rage that inspires you to send profanity-laden asks to people who like to look at reviews online before going places, and maybe work on that instead.

#go to the anger counseling store and ask some customers for anger counseling idk #this is such a weird and aggro ask to send someone. with all due respect if you are that offended #by other people preferring to use the internet? get off of it yourself and go outside. touch grass.