#he's very very talented at it and also his voice is very relaxing to listen to. it's a win win.

[the-force-awakens]

Y'know, sometimes I forget that Miguel O'hara is an Oscar boy. I'll just be sitting there watching atsv and being like, "His voice sounds So similar," before common sense kicks in, and I remember he's voiced by Oscar Isaac.

Not quite the same but like - when itsv first came out on digital and I watched it for the first time, I think I knew there were after credits scenes so I watched them, and I remember sitting there listening to Miguel and Lyla banter and thinking to myself (laughingly) "hey wait a minute, this guy sounds kind of like Poe"

and then that kind of sank in after a couple more seconds of hearing him talk, at which point I went "........wait"

[kiame-sama]

Humans Are Extinct (Yandere!TWST x Fem!Reader) Monster AU pt 25

(Art of Harpy Neige done by the very talented @ironicallyenraptured )

Warnings; yandere, multiple yanderes, different levels of yandere, mostly story driven chapter, hurt/comfort, snuggles, semi-aftermath, mention of attempted assault, wisdom from past Humans, explaining things, shock is one hell of a drug, cuddle puddle, tears, Hellcat, Ghost, Harpies, Dragon, mention of various species,

~~~~~~~~

Things were quiet far away from the crowd of the arena. The world felt a little smaller and a little more bearable as you lay in the nest, your nest, in Ramshackle. There was something familiar about the old building that soothed your heart, feeling much more relaxed in the familiar bastion.

Idia confirmed no one had managed to get into Ramshackle while you were away. He also mentioned something about adding a lock down mode to the building.

Now you were given something you have not managed to have in a while; solitude.

Of course, that didn't include little Grim who slept next to you in the large nest, not too far from you but curled up in arm's reach. He had suffered the brunt of Erikír's magic and was feeling after effects from the paralytic force that overwhelmed him. Crowley assured you Grim would recover, he was just recovering at a slower rate due to his age and size compared to the others.

Though you knew something terrible had happened and you were still reeling from it, you felt oddly numb. It felt like the world was rushing around you but a strange calm had overtaken everything and you were simply sitting in they eye of the hurricane that raged around you. Perhaps it was the adrenaline, the lack of physical injury, or both that kept you in such a state.

You figured you should check in on Che'nya and Neige given what happened. Most of the Housewardens waited down in the common area of the dorm, letting you decompress from the events that took place. Everyone that had fought or joined the fight before it ended was resting in Ramshackle but you were allowed a blissful moment of quiet to yourself.

Luckily you weren't physically harmed by any of the events, but it still made your skin crawl to think of the Merman prince. It meant more to you than you could describe to have those blessed moments to yourself to just think. Lilia had managed to convince Malleus to let you breathe and have some room but you knew the moment you left the room the Dragon would be by your side.

You stared at the ceiling on your back wondering about where you should go next in this madness filled world. Showing affection seemed a decent enough way to get these monster men to calm themselves. Perhaps you would even have to hold a quick meeting to talk with the various professors and Housewardens about what exactly took place. As far as you were aware, they were all in your dorm anyway and were simply waiting for you to show yourself.

A faint sound of whispers drew your attention and you glanced over to the mirror. You could just barely see the faint glow of the reflective glass and next to it was the thin Human ghost.

Moving as carefully as you could, you got up from the nest, letting Grim sleep off the effects of the signature spell Erikír had used on all of you. The Ghost seemed wary of the door to the room, so you silently ushered them into the adjacent bathroom connected to your room. Hopefully the beasts would all be none the wiser.

"Hello again, my friend. I am glad to see you live another day unbound."

The Ghost greeted quietly, his reedy voice still very faint to keep from being heard by listening ears. He smiled gently at you and you were honestly thrilled to see him again. Though you knew not what the many Ghosts were named, you were happy to know their one visit was not the last.

"Likewise. Though, I wish it was on better terms..."

"We saw what happened. Are you alright?"

"I guess..."

"No, I want to hear a 'yes' or a 'no' for certain. That was an awful thing that prince planned to do to you. I saw the prince talking with those Fae, promising them something that was not his to promise. We tried to warn you before the Tournament, but you weren't here when we arrived."

"I've been in another dorm because of the increased visitors on the island due to today's events. ... What exactly did Erikír promise them?"

"Do you truly wish to know?"

You felt a kind of bile in your throat as you considered your options, feeling more than you had in the last hour. Truly, you didn't want to think about that monster or what he meant by 'our eggs' when he spoke earlier. At the time, you had just wanted to escape and didn't focus too much on what the insane fish was ranting about.

"No, but I should know about it anyway."

"He promised to have you bear several egg clutches for him. The warm water Merfolk tend to have larger clutches, so he promised each one an egg of their own to keep and raise in exchange for their help today."

A shudder ran down your spine when you heard this, knowing the awful monster wouldn't take your feelings into account. If he was so willing to kidnap you, you had little doubt he would be willing to force you into having his young. He was awful, and you vaguely hoped you had the chance to weigh in on what punishment he deserved.

"I'm not okay. To think they would be so willing to see that happen to me... Even for their own benefit. How could they be okay with any child being brought into this world only to be traded away for the imprisonment of their mother? Why would any of them agree to that?"

"Because of our aura."

"What? What does that have to do with any of this?"

"We were interrupted before we could tell you, this aura of ours protects us... To an extent. But it is only as helpful as the species you surround yourself with. It is like a soothing lullaby to the minds and instincts of the other species. Their instincts are like shards of glass spinning around in their heads, always present and always at the forefront of their decisions. Our aura calms that whirlwind of glass and smooths the edges."

"How?"

"Many ways. Magic reacts in interesting ways with the aura of a Human. For some, it makes them more agreeable and calm. For others, it strengthened and enhanced their magic. There were some cases where a Human's aura attracted powerful magic users. Humans were once called Beast-Tamers or Peace-Keepers. Our aura alone was enough to soothe instincts, cool tempers, even end generational conflict."

"So, why were Humans hunted then?"

"That aura is a double edged sword. Though it impacts magic and can soothe instincts, the lack of that aura can have the opposite effect. Those used to the calming presence of a Human's aura can become reliant on it. To many, it didn't matter how they got this aura, from being around Humans to consuming their flesh, it all had the same effect. What was meant as an evolutionary trait of survival, became an addiction for the others that drove our species to extinction. I don't know how you have that same aura or how some of us must have managed to escape to wherever your world is, but you are here now, and your aura draws the others in."

The words of the Ghost weighed heavily on your shoulders, to the point it felt like it was too much. If he was right, then that meant you were both what kept your life safe and what endangered it. These beasts were driven to be in your presence and- thankfully- you had mainly encountered those who could either mostly control themselves or had strong enough allies to keep the other kind at bay.

"How do I stop it?"

"You can't. None of us could figure it out. Only in death could we see what we never could in life."

"So, what? I'm making them addicted to me?"

"Yes. That is why it is crucial we find a way out for you, sooner rather than later. The Dragon already yearns deeply, but that is the way of a Dragon's instincts, they posses and they yearn for those possessions. He is a strong ally, but understand he will only become more determined to entangle himself in your life as time progresses. They all will."

"And Grim?"

"Your feline companion is not the same kind as the species of beasts around you. Our aura is not as strong on those like him. It can impact him, but nowhere near the same level as the others."

"So, Papa Hades..."

The skinny Ghost looked truly sad when you mentioned the old Shinigami, a kind of wistful look in his eyes. He was silent for a moment before he rest a hand over his chest where his heart would have been. It took a moment for the Ghost to speak again, and you refused to rush him as it clearly hurt him to think of the kindly Shinigami.

"He... He is impacted by our aura as well. But even still, he is one to trust more than the others. He was always very kind to us all, perhaps too kind. I was one of his Humans, he let me leave when I wanted but alas... I was too foolish to recognize leaving was only one part of the journey and fell to those that lay in wait just beyond the isle. I couldn't bring myself to face him again after I failed so long ago... If you asked him to help you escape, I would like to think he would help you, but even I don't know for certain. He loved us Humans. Cherished us, even. But I fear the isolation has hardened his heart and the pain he felt at our loss may keep him from letting you become lost as well."

You nodded and glanced back to the door, knowing if you took too long in isolation, the others would surely seek you out. They were smothering and suffocating, but they were your only chance to survive long enough to escape this place. It had been such a short amount of time, but it was no less important for you to understand how desperately these beasts yearned for your presence.

~•§•~

"-should have never been left up to chance! I know you trust your students above my own, but even you should know to trust me when I sense foul play on the horizon."

Crowley was fully fluffed up, his feathers standing on end and his voice sharp as he cawed angrily at the fellow Headmage. Ambrose refused to meet the heated stare of the angered Crow, keeping his gaze downcast as the Crow continued to screech. It was true, Ambrose should trust Crowley's instincts on such things, he had been Headmage of Night Raven College for centuries and knew when to be wary.

"To think, you let him assault my chick, assault your students, and Overblot all at once. All of this, for what? To try and have faith in the goodness of your students? Ambrose, it is not often I am the one to chastise anything you do, but even you must admit it was stupid to think Mr. Helmsman would not try his luck given his prior actions. He showed who he was and you wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt!"

Crowley hissed and squawked angrily as he stomped around and paced in front of the Owl. This was the inverse of the typical interaction between the two as it was often Ambrose reprimanding Crowley. Though it was vindicating for the Crow, it was not worth the potential emotional and physical harm that almost befell his chick.

"What prior actions?"

The Dragon growled lowly, his voice impacted by the fire he had breathed out earlier and scratchy from the smoke. Naturally, no one wanted to actually tell Malleus what happened during the Photoshoot, especially considering the fact he was already furious. He had been pacing back and forth between the common area and the stairs that led up to his Human's room, ears perked keenly for any sign his Human or their beloved kit stirred. Vil was the one to break the news.

"Erikír got handsy with (Y/n) during the Photoshoot, he even placed his hands on her stomach."

"So that is why she asked Lilia about it last night. She assures me stomachs are not inherently linked to mating for Humans, but it would explain her discomfort on the subject. Still, this 'prince' assumed such falsehoods were truth and thought to try such brazen disrespect towards (Y/n). He should have been banished from her presence the moment he dared take such action."

The Dragon was agitated and it was obvious in the way he frowned and the subtle twitching of his tail. His wings were tensed on his back as if prepared to fly at any moment should he be called. So much was on his mind that he barely even remembered the unfinished Spelldrive match that declared no clear winner. He really didn't care much for the game or the outcome, only dragging it out for the sake of his dear Human's entertainment.

"I am of a mind with Mr. Draconia, that prince should have never been allowed near her after his clear lack of discretion. Next time I get a feeling about any of the students- yours or mine- you would do well to heed my words, Ambrose!"

During the angry huffing and cawing of the Crow, a soft figure slowly descended the stairs with a groggy Hellcat kit in hand. The kit was yawning and the presence of the Human did not go unnoticed by those in the dorm. Naturally, Malleus was first to head towards the oddly calm looking Human.

It had been one hell of a day thus far for her.

"(Y/n)," Malleus was quick to greet the Human that looked at him with almost distant and shell-shocked eyes, seemingly wanting to hold or otherwise pick her up but barely restraining himself from acting, "are you... Well? Do you need-?"

He cut off as the soft Human he adored walked into his waiting arms, letting the Dragon wrap his tail and wings around her. The hold of the Dragon was secure yet gentle as it seemed even the beast needed that moment simply to calm himself. Despite the beseeching words of his mentor and caretaker, Malleus found himself far more soothed with his Human in hand than he did without her.

Grim also seemed rather keen to lean into the affectionate grasp of the Dragon, his tired eyes struggling to stay open. Erikír's signature spell had mostly worn off of the students it impacted but Grim was clearly struggling to overcome the effects. Neige and Che'nya were both present among the many other students as it seemed more than Housewardens decided to camp out at the Ramshackle dorm. From what you could see, most Vice-Housewardens were present as well and you figured now was as good a time as any to speak with them as a group.

"I need to talk to everyone before what happened truly hits me."

Malleus let you pull away from his hold but kept close behind you like a perpetual shadow that loomed nearby. It was clear the others were keen to hear what you had to say, Che'nya and Neige moving so you could sit between them. Though your Dragon guard seemed less than pleased at the location between those that failed you, he was not going to force you to sit among the Hoard despite his wishes. Your needs were greater and he understood it in that moment.

Grim slowly lifted his head to sniff towards the Harpy that gently cooed to him, almost seeming worried as the kit struggled to stand. You were similarly concerned but the insistence that Grim would recover in time somewhat soothed your worry. At least the kit seemed alright despite his clumsy attempt to nuzzle the hand of the Harpy that sat next to you.

"We will continue this later, Ambrose. (Y/n), my dear sweet innocent chick, we are ready to hear what you have to say."

"Thank you, Headmage."

Crowley seemed somewhat bothered by the formal title, but he allowed you to continue without complaint as it was clear to him something was wrong. From what you gathered, all of the beast men would at least be unwilling to abandon or betray you if you kept an eye on them and divided your attention among them. Your aura should see to the rest when reality decided to hit you full force.

"I assume you all are already aware of the basics as to what happened today, so I won't rehash what we know, but there is something I need to share. Those Fae didn't see an opportunity and just choose to show up, it was planned and orchestrated. Erikír- after he used his signature spell and pulled me from the room- let slip how he gained the favor of those Fae, and what his plan was going forward."

A shiver ran through you as you thought about what had happened and the disgusting feeling it had given you. The faint feel of feathers over your shoulders told you Neige had rest one of his wings over your back, likely as a comforting gesture. You were thankful for the gentle touch of the Harpy that had earned a certain level of trust from you. He did not see the betrayal coming, but you trusted in Grim's judgement more than you could say.

"He said the Fae joined him for the promise of an egg. A half-Human egg. I doubt all of them joined for only one shared among them, so he must have promised them each one of their own. I'm sure I don't need to say where he planned to acquire these eggs. I honestly don't think he really cared if I wanted such things or not, he had made a deal and intended to make good on his word no matter what. This was before he Overblotted. He wasn't Feral when he planned to take me, he turned Feral when I got away from him. I don't feel safe with him nearby, even down the coast at Royal Sword Academy, not after what he has done."

Thunder suddenly boomed and shook the entire building. The air itself seeming filled with electricity as the Dragon among them hissed deeply, his body shaking with rage. Malleus was unaware of these finer details, but learning Fae from his own Kingdom had been so willing to trade what was not theirs to claim had white hot fury filling his veins. This was all in addition to the brazen and frankly disrespectful acts committed by the prince.

Most of the time, Lilia would be the first to make an attempt to calm down the Dragon. He was not keen to stop Malleus from ripping these poachers to pieces for even thinking they could get any young from you, especially when you so clearly belonged in the Hoard. Most of those present were of the same mind as Malleus; riddled with rage.

Ramshackle itself groaned and creaked from the force of the storm outside and you worried for those who may still be in or near the arena. The Tournament was either recently ended or just paused and that meant many could be out in the storm. You were quick to stand, immediately approaching Malleus and resting a hand on his head between his horns. He had almost seemed confused by your actions before you began to gently pet the upset Dragon, almost all tension leaving his body. In a way, he seemed to be fighting the immense calm that your presence brought him.

"He must pay for daring to take what is not his."

"I know, Tsuno, but there are still innocent people on school grounds, you can't drown them in a storm for the crime of being nearby. Save your anger for those that deserve it."

"He deserves death. The Rat is first and his crime was less. I see no reason he can't be next."

"Yeah, but something tells me because he's a prince they will try very hard for a lesser punishment."

"I want him dead."

"I know. You can't kill him. Not yet. We can do nothing about him right now, so I need you to calm down and hold onto that rage. I have no doubt he will lie and try to discredit or back-track on what he said to me. What I need from you is one of the Fae he coerced or several if you can, and they need to be alive. Their attestation is more damning. Evidence is what we need, not a storm."

Malleus made a sound then, like a mix between a whine and a growl. The Dragon was frustrated and didn't want to listen to reason, but he knew what the logical next step was. You were right.

"All Fae in the arena were caught and are going to be questioned. They have all agreed to answer any question and answer honestly, so long as they get to be questioned by you."

Ambrose spoke, his voice resigned and laced with guilt. He refused to meet your gaze and simply continued to look down at his hands, which were balled into fists. You figured he was wrestling with the idea of one of his own students going so wrong so quickly.

"I don't want to talk to any of them. I don't want to talk to anyone who would agree to leave me with a man that intends to use me for his own gratification. I don't care what they've lost or how they are hurt. Pain doesn't excuse their willingness to let horrible things be done to me just so they can sleep easier at night with a bought and sold child born as a result of their inability to control themselves or have a modicum of morals regarding others wellbeing."

"They won't speak to anyone but you."

"Fine. I will break their hearts and their fragile sanity. I want Tsuno, Lilia, and Headmage Crowley present for the questions. They can stare down their own prince and try to beg for the mercy they would have never given me."

There was lasting silence and you could see the fear in the eyes of the beasts around you. It was as if they were trying to decide if you were being serious or not. You could feel the tears forming in your eyes and felt the slow pull of emotions, drawing back to soon drown you in a tidal wave.

There was only moments of clarity left and you could feel the headache forming from the tears that had yet to be shed.

"I can't do it right now. Any of it, really. Right now, I need someone- anyone of you, I don't care- to hold me. I need to be held for several hours and someone needs to make me drink and eat because I won't want to. Honestly, I-"

Your voice faltered and your tears began to fall. Despite your desire to speak and give these clueless monsters the information you needed them to know, there was no more time.

"I-"

You figured Malleus would be first. He was closest after all, but you really didn't care who it was this time. Those in the dorm were those who have proven themselves trust worthy. You just needed to collapse and cry.

Emotions were strange like that, so terribly absent in the height of stressful situations yet so vicious in their return they knocked your knees out from under you. You vaguely registered the feeling of scales, feathers, fur, and flesh as your world seemed to implode. Every breath was difficult and your body shook with more than just the force of your tears.

Horrible things seemed to happen around you and now you knew you were the unfortunate cause and cure. At least you could face it later, but for the time being you had built quite the defensive group of guards. That same group who now let you sob and cry with no judgement, just gentle affection.

Everything could be dealt with at a time you could calm down and assess it properly, so you simply let the many beasts try to comfort you however they could. Warmth and softness all around was a tempting lullaby to your frazzled brain. One you embraced wholeheartedly as your world faded from the madness and into tranquility.

~•§•~

"Ambrose?"

The Crow Harpy watched the mixed group of students from both schools and various species all gather together. Some were species that hated each other by instinct alone. Some were naturally solitary. All of them valued comforting the Human more than their own instinctual dislikes and desires.

"Yes, Crowley?"

"He sought to trade away her eggs, Ambrose."

"I know."

"... This cannot happen again."

[salty-autistic-writer]

Tommy Kinard's Guide To The Best (And Worst) Places To Take A Nap

Tommy and sleep have always had a difficult relationship. 

When he was a child, he had a hard time relaxing his mind enough to fall asleep. Restless thoughts and the fact that he could also read one more page of this non-fiction book - just one more - kept him tossing and turning until his eyes burned.

As a teenager, he listened to his parents arguing, their shadows dancing in the hallway. When he drank too much, his father’s voice was like the hot sour breath of a dragon, his footsteps booming and his words sharp. 

The neighbours never intervened. They were blind and deaf. Tommy wasn’t. He listened and tried to stay awake as long as possible. At least until the dragon fell asleep. Just in case he had to help his mother. Because there was nobody else.

His time in the military taught him to cherish every possible second of sleep. He developed the talent to fall asleep anywhere, at any time and at remarkable speed. But with this special talent comes the tendency to wake up abruptly as soon as his mind decides it has to be alert.

A noise, even a smell, is enough to push his body out of sleep mode into ready-to-fight mode. That makes sleeping for several hours in a row very difficult. So he usually takes some exhaustion with him when he leaves for work in the morning.

Once he’s working, he has laser focus though, never feeling the missing hours of sleep. No. That only comes later, after the work is done.

His issues made Tommy a napper. And he’s napping a lot.

He’s not picky about where he’s taking his naps. But some places are better than others.

In the helicopter (2/10 - not enough space, leads to pain and embarrassing moment!)

Tommy yawns heartily. He’s working a shift from hell. And he’s tired. So tired that the thought of getting out of the helicopter and dragging himself to the bunk beds at the station fills him with dread. He doesn’t like the beds anyway. It’s never really quiet there. And they are too small. Well. To be fair, most places are too small for him to stretch out his legs.

Finding a comfortable position in the helicopter isn’t easy either. But he has to try. Has to close his eyes. Just … For a few minutes. Then, the alarm is probably going to go off again anyway. He sighs, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. He can already feel his mind drifting away, and his muscles are finally relaxing. At least, it’s quiet in here.

Is this smart? No. But he’s too tired to make smart choices.

Tommy already knows his neck is going to ache later. But it’s too late.

Sleep embraces him.

L aughter erupts when Tommy opens his eyes and he blinks into the sunlight, confused until his swimming vision clears and he sees Lucy in front of him. Lucy, surrounded by a few other colleagues, taking pictures with her phone and grinning in utter delight. Great. He won't ever hear the end of this.

Gr imacing, he stretches as best as he can, sore muscles burning and bones cracking in protest.

When he jumps out, his legs tingling from being immobile for so long, Lucy shows him a picture of his face pressed against the glass, drool running down to his chin, hair dishevelled. “It’s cute,” she says. “But I’m worrying about your poor old bones, Kinard. If you plan on doing more naps in the chopper, I will buy you a neck pillow.”

At a movie theatre (6/10 - comfy but embarrassing, at least Evan thought it was cute!)

Tommy loves the cinema Evan picked. 

He especially loves the seats. They are so comfy. Soft. Warm. Too soft and warm. Tommy can feel himself sinking into them, his eyes getting heavy. He tries his best to keep them open, telling himself he’s not going to fall asleep while he’s about to watch a movie with his gorgeous boyfriend who’s happily snacking popcorn, his shoulder nudging Tommy’s.

For once, they actually managed to go to the movies. Without any interruption. Without anything terrible happening. So he really should pay attention to the movie. Evan is going to want to talk about it later.

But the screen is too bright. He has to rest his eyes. Just for one little moment. He’s not going to fall asleep. He’s not.

It only takes seconds for him to drift off.

A hand on his shoulder. A kiss on the cheek. Soft laughter and warm breath tickling his skin. “Tommy. Hey, Tommy?”

Tommy hums, keeping his eyes closed. Just a little longer. He can tell it’s not even morning yet. It’s still dark outside. Huh. He wrinkles his nose in confusion. Where’s all the noise coming from? Did Evan turn on the TV?

Oh. Oh. Shit.

His eyes snap open and he winces, his hands rubbing over the slightly rough fabric of cushions, the smell of popcorn and sweet beverages reminding him of where he is right now. He fell asleep at the movie theatre. With Evan sitting beside him.

Tommy can feel his cheeks burning. “I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, wiping drool from his mouth and glancing at the screen, where a man and a woman are arguing.

“Don’t be. It was really cute. My highlight was when your head started to tilt and sank on my shoulder,” Evan says, smiling. “You also didn’t miss anything. That movie was horrible so far. I’m going to tell you what happened later.”

Tommy’s face still burns with embarrassment, but when Evan wraps his arm around him and pulls him even closer, he starts to feel better. It happens, he guesses. Especially after a long day.

In a dressing room (3/10 - not very comfy, loud, but leads to a good solution for future shopping! It's good to have someone who thinks of things you never really thought of!)

Tommy doesn’t like shopping for clothes. 

It’s not easy to find something that fits him. He also wishes people would just let him look around by himself before bombarding him with a row of questions, constantly asking if he’s doing alright. Why isn’t one “yes thank you” enough?

Once he does find something that fits and doesn’t scratch or feel too tight, he usually just tries to wear it as long as possible. But his favourite jeans tore and now he has to find a new one.

It’s nice to have Evan with him who gives him something to focus on.

“Hm. No. Let me get you that in another size,” Evan decides, looking at the pants Tommy tried on, frowning. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

“Okay,” Tommy mutters, too exhausted to really care. He sits on the bench in the dressing room and leans back with a sigh. As he waits, the warmth of the dressing room makes him increasingly drowsy. His eyes get heavy. Soon, he can’t keep them open anymore, his head falling forward as he succumbs to a slumber.

Only to jump when Evan opens the door and presents him with a new pair of jeans. “Sorry, took a while to find it. Here, I - Oh. Did you fall asleep?” “No,” Tommy says automatically. Evan raises a doubting brow.

Tommy notices he’s half lying on the bench now, quickly sitting up and wiping at his eyes. “Maybe,” he admits. “I’m tired.”

Tired of dressing and undressing. Tired of the too-bright shop lights which keep buzzing above his head. Tired of hearing the terrible nerve-wracking music in the background. Tired of seeing his tired eyes in the mirror.

Evan scans him, understanding in his eyes. “Hey, let’s just order some of those online, okay? You can try them on at home,” he suggests.

“Really?” Tommy asks, wrinkling his nose. “But what if they don’t fit?”

“We are just going to send them back,” Evan shrugs. “Come on, let’s leave and buy coffee somewhere.”

I love you , Tommy thinks, getting up happily. And wonders how far away he is from actually saying the words out loud. Feels like they are already lingering on his lips, just waiting for the right moment.

At a bookstore (7/10 - comfy, warm and with cat, but embarrassing!)

Of course, they happen to be outside on one of those rare days when it’s raining cats and dogs. All of a sudden, it pours from the velvety sky. 

They flee into a bookstore at a corner, laughing. Evan’s eyes brighten up in delight as he scans the shelves. It’s a tiny store with old hardcover books and narrow hallways. The dust-covered books are piling up everywhere, even on the window sill.

An elderly lady is the only other person in the store. She’s sitting at the counter, hidden by a heap of books. She has one in her wrinkled hands, reading, only briefly glancing up to nod at them and push her glasses up her nose.

There even is a cat. A tabby with a bushy tail, that raises as she approaches Tommy and curls around his leg with a soft meow. When Tommy pets her and looks up, Evan is already gone, looking at books. Tommy discovers a green armchair in a corner and decides to sit down for a while. The armchair is comfy and smells like oranges. Tommy sinks into the cushions, leaning his head back with a content sigh. He can hear the steady drum of the rain against the window panes. It’s making him dozy. Before he can fight the sleepiness, his eyes are already closed and distantly he thinks he can feel something soft, warm and vibrating on his legs, but then sleep reaches for him and pulls him into a quite pleasant nap.

“Tommy?”

“Hm?” Tommy perks up, blinking in confusion. “Is it time?”

“I don’t know. You fell asleep,” Evan says, amused. “And the cat immediately went to sleep on you. I took pictures.”

Tommy swallows, looking at the cat now sitting on the floor, licking its paw. “Sorry,” he says quietly, glancing at the shop owner. But she’s smiling while still reading her book. 

“No need to be sorry. It’s cute. Come on, let’s go home and take a nap together,” Evan chuckles.

In the bathtub (8/10 - warm, safe, clean and good-smelling, especially when Evan washes my hair, but it gets cold eventually!)

Tommy doesn’t know how he’s still standing. The shift seemed to last forever. His whole body is sore and aching. All he’s smelling is sweat and smoke. Every step he takes seems to add invisible extra weight he has to carry around.

“Come on, I’m going to draw you a bath,” Evan tells him.

“I have the best boyfriend in the world,” Tommy sighs, as he slowly, painstakingly peels his clothes off his body.

He hates the moment his naked body is hit by the chill of the air. Hates the first dip into the water. But once he sinks into the water and it embraces him, he groans in pleasure.

“I’m going to wash your hair, okay?” Evan says, sitting on the edge of the bathtub and pushing the sleeves of his hoodie back. “Please,” Tommy sighs, gratefully. He could feel how greasy it got with every passing hour. He leans his head back and closes his eyes, relaxing into the rhythmic movements of Evan’s fingers in his hair. Soon, he feels his mind drifting away, like a boat on the ocean. He allows it. He’s warm and safe. He can rest. Every troublesome thought and every ache disappears. Fading away as he dozes off to Evan washing his hair and the smell of his favourite shampoo.

“Tommy?” Evan asks, shaking Tommy’s shoulder gently. “You with me?”

“Huh?” Tommy opens his eyes, blinking up at the ceiling. He’s still halfway caught in the pleasantly floaty nothingness of his nap. “Hm. What?”

“Sorry, but I thought you might want to eat something,” Evan says. That’s when Tommy realises he’s lying in the bathtub, feeling boneless and … chilly. “How long have I been in here?”

“Long enough. Did you sleep well?” Evan asks, grinning.

Tommy grimaces as a shiver runs down his back and inspects his wrinkled hands. “Well, now I’m cold. But it was worth it.”

On Evan’s lap (10/10 - warm, comfy, safe. the best place to take a nap!)

It’s been a long day. It’s always a long day.

Evan takes one look at Tommy and says, “Want to order Chinese and relax on the couch today?”

“Yeah, I’d love that,” Tommy says, grateful. There was a time when he tried to hide his exhaustion and went out anyway to please his partners. But now he’s honest about how he feels and what he wants. He also doesn’t apologise for falling asleep anymore. His work is stressful and functioning can be exhausting. Being tired is nothing he has to be ashamed of.

They end up on the couch, Evan with his laptop and Tommy with his head on Evan’s lap, the rest of his body stretched out. He’s happy he can do that now. They bought a new, bigger and comfier couch a while ago.

Tommy has his eyes closed and relaxes while listening to the clicking noise of Evan typing and breathing in the familiar smell of his surroundings. Warm. Soft. Yes. This is by far his favourite place to take a nap.

He allows himself to drift off. When he comes back to himself, Evan smiles down at him. “Hey. There you are. Sounded like you were snoring the alphabet at one point.”

“Hey,” Tommy scrunches his nose. “Says the man who snores like a boar whenever he’s lying on his back.”

Evan chuckles. He clears his throat, eyes on his screen. “Did you know that neurodivergent people tend to get exhausted pretty fast? Due to the stress of sensory overload and the pressure of social situations. There’s even a word for it.”

“Yeah?” Tommy asks, raising a mildly intrigued brow.

“Yes. Autistic fatigue.”

“Hm.” Tommy shifts, frowning.

They’ve been talking about this topic for a while now. Collecting information. Finding certain things that … fit astonishingly well. It started with Evan talking to his therapist about ADHD and led to Evan going on an extensive research spree on which he found out that quite a few of the things Tommy is experiencing fit symptoms of the autism spectrum and that ADHD and autism have a lot of overlapping symptoms.  Tommy grew up during a time when children weren’t autistic, had ADHD or suffered from dyslexia. There were only two possible labels: “normal” and “weird”. At school, Tommy got the “weird” label pretty fast.

Actually, there’s been a teacher who apparently did some research and carefully addressed the possibility of autism, but Tommy’s father was fast to tell her to refrain from calling his son mentally ill. Tommy thinks the exact words Kinard Senior used were “My boy is not a nutcase.” And that was the end of it.

But now, now that he has the freedom to do research and the chance to figure some things out that have always confused him, Tommy is intrigued. 

It might be nice to know why some things are as they are.

For example: why does he hear noises no one else seems to hear? Why does he feel repulsion towards certain foods to the point that he has the urge to gag or spit them out? Why is he fidgeting so much without really noticing it? Why does he take things literally, which has led to many embarrassing moments in his life? Why does he sometimes feel like he’s following an invisible script while talking to people, and when they don’t do what he expects, the conversations become increasingly stressful? 

Or the “I’m so exhausted” thing that sometimes really hits him out of nowhere, especially when he’s outside.

“Do they also say how you can increase your energy if you experience autistic fatigue?” Tommy asks.

Evan hums. “Snacks. Vitamins. And accomodations. Like noise-cancelling in-ear headphones.”

Tommy perks up. “Noise-cancelling? That’s a thing?” He asks, surprised. He has normal headphones for his training. But they don’t cancel noise.

“Uh, yeah. They have been existing for a while now. Do you want me to order some for you?” Evan asks. “Or we can pick them together?”

“Yes,” Tommy says, fully awake now, sitting up and snuggling up against Evan, looking at the screen. “But I can’t promise I will ever take them out once I have them.”

“Well, you definitely won’t hear me snoring anymore,” Evan says, grinning and typing into the search bar.

(AO3 Link)

[impactedfates]

Hello there!! Can I request some headcanons / mini-scenarios for: Dan Heng, March, Welt, Himeko, Yanqing and Jing Yuan; with a normally soft-spoken Reader who has a wide vocal range (from contralto to hitting those high notes) and occasionally does song covers? Doesn't matter the genre, so long as Reader likes it.

So they might hear Reader singing something like a lullaby or a traditional Xianzhou song one day, to something that's still soft and sweet like a mainstream pop song on another day; to belting out something like "Kakusei" or "NEXUS" from the Promare OST. :D

★ A/N: I understood the request, I just hope I wrote it in a way you wanted! People with such a large vocal range are so talented istg, they gotta teach me. (I say as if I have ANY confidence to sing anyways)

☆ Genre/Trope: Platonic

★ Format: Bullet Pointed Head Cannons (And small scenario at the end :>)

☆ Warnings: None

★ Extra: Reader is a Nameless // Readers age is undisclosed so imagine them at whatever age you wish // Reader can play instruments! // Characters might be OOC I feel // Proof Read but I did it when it was 4am lmao

When you sing more soft songs, Dan Heng tends to enjoy listening. It helps him feel more relax and sometimes rids his mind of nightmares.

He's more used to hearing that kind of voice from you. So when one day, he walks in on you singing a song that's the exact opposite of how you usually sing, he's a bit surprised.

He never doubted you could have a big vocal range, however hearing you sing a song that's different to how he normally hears you sing is what surprised him.

He still enjoys listening, but more so when you sing in a softer voice, don't get him wrong. He still enjoys your singing voice and will support you. But he isn't one for a more loud song.

"[Name]...if you're going to sing more...on the loud side, could I request you do it else where?" Dan Heng sighs softly, being awoken up once again due to you. Despite his words hinting at annoyance, his facial expression was soft and kind. A soft sorry came from your voice as you quickly turned off the music you were using, switching to a more softer song. An old Xianzhou lullaby. "Here, I'll make it up to you. Sit on the couch and I'll sing a softer song" You smiled, Dan Heng chuckled as he obliged. He can't deny that your more softer voice doesn't help him fall asleep. He silently hums along to your voice, and in a sleepy voice he speaks to you before drifting to bed. "If you enjoy music like that so much, we can pay a visit to Serval okay?"

March 7th LOVES your singing voice. She would sing along to whatever song you were singing. She praises you every time she hears you and likely took photos of you singing.

She so supports you if you ever make a YouTube (StarTube?) account and posted covers, literally your number 1 fan.

When you post a cover of a song, she's always the first one to like, comment and listen!

When you post a cover of a song that's VERY different. (Let's say, Usseewa) and you hit ALL those high notes and, everything omg. She was surprised but immediately hyped you up.

She doesn't mind if you sing songs like that at all, your singing is amazing. Like I said, number 1 fan...she doesn't hid it either.

"I love you [Name]!" "Uh, the one with the blue camera and pink hair?" "OH. MY GOD. [NAME] YOU NOTICED ME, YOU NOTICED ME. I.LOVE.YOU" Serval laughed out loud seeing Marchs outburst, as if you two don't live with each other. You could only look away with a small smile, seeing March jump up and down and shaking whoever was beside her. Much to Welts "delight"

Welts very impressed with your vocal range. But he's also worried, he knows that if you were able too have a large vocal range, you likely know how to manage it.

Still, anytime he hears you singing songs like NEXUS or Kakusei he can't help but slide over a bottle of water for your throat.

If you ever join a concert with Serval then he IS buying tickets, though not everyone may go (Dan Heng) he and the rest of the Express will.

He also tends to buy any merch you may come out with if there is any. (Mainly for March but he does keep one or two for himself to support you)

He doesn't really have a preference when it comes too what songs you sing, just as long as your happy and it isn't really disturbing anyone.

If you ever start a StarTube channel, he might animate a few of your covers! Under a pen name though, he's not embarrassed, but I think he'd like it if you thought it was a different fan and not just him who's already liked your singing from the start. (If that makes sense)

"WELT! Weltweltwelt" You ran up to him, quickly showing him an animation someone did of one of your new songs. "ArahatosNumber1Fan animated one of my covers again" You said excitedly, bringing the phone screen back to your view as you scrolled through the comments. Many complimenting the animation but many also asking who sang the cover to which they were directed to your account. "This the guy that you said was helping boost your channel subs?" You nod happily, tapping your chin you thought for a bit. "Do you think they'd still animate my covers even if I sing a different genre? I want to go with something softer this time instead of a louder peice" "I'm sure they'll animate any song you wish to sing" He chuckles. And sure enough, a week after you posted a cover of Lost Umbrella, ArahatosNumber1Fan posted an animation to go along with it.

Himeko compliments you a lot for your vocal range. In fact, she got you a karaoke machine for your birthday! Of course, though. She doesn't let you use it during night time. She doesn't want to wake up because you decided to start singing Churira Churira Dadada at 3 in the morning.

I do think she prefers you to sing outside the train. While she does enjoying your singing and she has no problem if you were to sing in the train. However she also understands it may disturb many people so she does ask for you to sing in an area where you aren't disturbing anyone.

I feel like she also asks you to teach her how to sing or have a wider vocal range. She enjoys singing herself and would love to join in when you're out singing to keep you company!

Perhaps you two can make money by singing on the streets :> (Only if you're okay with it though!)

You strummed you guitar as the two of you reached the last note, Himeko took a small bow and looked up at the audience that had gathered around. All of them clapping and complimenting your voice. She laughed softly and gently packed up your things so the two of you could get going, checking to see if you were uncomfortable with the attention before she directs you back to the train. As you two entered, Himeko was quick to sit and count the amount of credits that were left in your guitar case, looking up to you she said with a smile. "A success, well done. They loved you" "It wasn't just me singing..." "Perhaps but...I'd say they have their favourites"

When Yanqing overhears you singing Xianzhou lullabys, he's quick to shower you with compliments. Your voice is so soothing! He could listen it for so long and it's effective too. You had to usher him out as he could wake the kids you just put to bed.

When he hears you singing a song like (man I'm running out of songs I know/hj) Noels Lament. He's impressed, how can you sing a song so softly and quietly and then sing something like this which needs a stronger voice??

He might skip a few of his training to find you and see what song you're singing, he makes it a guessing game! Will you be singing something so sweet and kind? Or something that might will make head turn??

"...Yanqing?" "Ha! I guessed right this time" "...Guessed...right?" Ah, you weren't meant to know the guessing game he had in his own head, quickly, he shuffled away. Scratching the back of his head. "Of where you were!" "I always walk in this area" "...I meant...what outfit you'd be wearing?" "I usually wear similar clothes?" ...Yeah, he's running off quickly, hopefully Jing Yuan won't scold him for skipping his training again right? Surely the general can understand he just has to see if his guess was right or not.

Surprisingly (or not surprisingly) Jing Yuan enjoys when you sing your heart out with songs like Candy Store or Mount Rageous. That's the type of sing he first heard you sing when he tried to find Yanqing when he skipped yet another training sessions.

Usually he would just sleep till Yanqing returned or just go on with his day if he never did. In either case, now he joins Yanqing to see what song you're singing before returning back to train.

When he hears you singing a less upbeat song like Sweet Dreams. He's slightly surprised but listens intently, it's different to what he often hears you sing but he enjoys it none the less, he sees your happy so he's fine.

He might even request to hear certain songs just to see how well you voice range can handle it. From the loudest song that could break glass, to a soothing song that can put even the mara struck to bed. And if you successfully sing them all, he congratulates you.

Overall, he's impressed as well as many others, likely talks to you and how well you sing to his friends.

You panted a bit as you finished a particularly long high note, Jing Yuan chuckles and slides over a cup of water which you accept quickly. Taking a drink to sooth your throat. "You voice really can do wonders, I'm more then impressed" He speaks, you nodded in response as he then offers a small treat for agreeing to sing a song for him. A song that made you go from high to low, soft to loud and all in all, tested how wide your voice range can be in a singular song. "I must apologies, I just wished to see how far your voice can go. I should've considered how tired your throat must be from singing that particular song" "No worries, it was fun to read and practice that song. I'm a bit surprised you know it though" "Oh? Are you now?" "Yeah...I mean...the song was released like a month ago and you're kinda a grandp-" "Alright I get it" He chuckled lightly, gently flicking your forehead.

I'm so smart writing Yanqings and JY sleep deprived right?/j Yeah uh they might be OOC, hopefully not thoughejfpgt.

[lost-and-ephemeral]

Helloo><!!! I love your fics sm ueueue!!! I was wondering if it's okay with you to write about Zayne and Rafayel with a very childish Mc who loves a lot of cute stuffies!!! Mc is really bubbly and gets excited and happy over all the little things and just like Rafayel, they are a painter too:DD!!! except Mc doesn't get attention on their art which makes them sad... But overall, just a mostly bubbly and cuddly Mc on both if its okie><!! Tyyy!!!

HCs: Childish Beloved (Zayne, Rafayel)

Pairing: Zayne x reader, Rafayel x reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship

A/N: Thanks for your request, sweetheart! I'm also sorry it takes me a lot of time to write requests. So much work, so little time irl.

-`♡´- MASTERLIST -`♡´- 

Zayne

You're the exact opposite of Zayne, but that's not a bad thing.

Opposites attract. It works the same way with him.

Zayne is pretty reserved and quiet, so he needs a bright person like you for the perfect balance.

Your babbly and childlike demeanor makes his heart melt with love.

Even on the coldest and gloomiest day, you are able to shine like the sun itself.

It's hard for him to show affection, so your cuddly personality completely overrides that little flaw.

Every time you hug him unexpectedly, Zayne's whole body tenses up at first and then slowly relaxes in your arms.

Just don't melt that Mr. Snowman completely.

Don't mind your babbling, unless he has some very urgent work to do. Don't be upset, it's just that sometimes Zayne has lots of important work to do and he can't make a mistake.

After hard day at work he will 100% fall asleep to the sound of your voice.

Always praising your art, even the smallest sketches.

If you do a little goofy sketch of him, he'll carry it in his wallet. Always. He just won't admit it openly.

But one day you'll find out anyway. Zayne will just chuckle at your happy reaction.

When you get excited about the little things, he just shakes his head and smiles.

He can't believe that such a sweet little being could love someone as cold as him.

He doesn't mind that you in love with every cute little thing you see. Because, well, you're cute too.

Sometimes he will unintentionally look for something you might really like.

He's literally spoiling you with plushies and sweets.

You have a special warm place in his heart.

Rafayel

Rafayel isn't bothered in the slightest by your personality or your behavior.

He is an expressive and bright person in his own way.

Just loves listening to your babbling while he's painting. You can talk about anything that comes into your head, Rafayel won't say anything against it.

You're really cuddly person? Great, he doesn't mind and actually loves this too. He's pretty affectionate himself.

But he still blushes every time you get him into your arms. Cutie.

Perhaps sometimes it is your warm embrace that was missing for him to so wanted inspiration for his latest painting.

And speaking of paintings, he's just in awe of the fact that you're an artist too.

He'll be sure to ask you to paint something together with him.

Don't be surprised if at one of his next exhibitions you'll see this painting, even with an indication of your co-authorship.

Rafayel thinks that you and your art deserve all the love and attention. And he can provide it.

He will tell everyone that his beloved is really talented.

With you he is even more playful than usual.

You're his little sunshine. He's happy when you're happy. So when you're excited over something small, he can't help but chuckle and smile.

Loves seeing you all joyful and excited, because your joy is contagious.

If you see a cute thing you like, you'll have it right away.

Even in all available colors and variations if you want so. Rafayel can afford it.

Won't stop until he gets all the toys you like out of the claw machine.

Just never ever leave him. Rafayel won't survive without you and your adorable personality.

[coolguyhsupage]

Daddy's Broken Good Girl w/ Korrupted-Bunny

Hello everyone! Here is a new file I created recently. This file is featuring the lovely @korrupted-bunny. She's done great work for me in the past and has also done great stuff with NNPP. Please go follow her, as she's very talented and very sexy!

This file is about, pardon the pun, corruption and programming and being the best broken Good Girl you can be for Daddy.

You can find the full file in the link above! For the full script, click on the "Keep Reading" tab!

Updated info!

Content:

YouTube.com/CoolGuyHSU

Soundgasm.net/u/CGHypnosisOnYT

Contact Info:

Kik: coolguyhsu

Discord: coolguyhsupage

E-mail: coolguyhsupage@gmail.com

Now, let’s begin by taking a nice, deep breath in… and then slowly, letting it out. Once again, slowly in… and deeply out. Good job. In… and out. Letting all your tension flow away.

Just continue to breathe, slowly and deeply, as you start to relax. You may notice, or perhaps, you have already noticed, that with every breath that you take and every word that I say, that you’re beginning to feel more and more relaxed. In fact, you’ve likely noticed how your body seems to relax so easily, so automatically, listening to my voice, with no worries or hesitation, because your body already knows what to do, and already knows how to do it.

Notice, how with every word that you hear, that you continue to feel better and better, happier and happier, as every word sinks you deeper and deeper into your mind, letting you feel more and more relaxed. Just feeling so good, so relaxed, so at ease, with no thoughts or worries, no cares or concerns. Just following my voice, allowing it to guide you, allowing yourself to follow them with no hesitation or resistance.

And now, I’m going to count down, from 5 down to 1. And as I count down with each number, you will drop twice as deep as you are currently.

5.

4.

3.

2.

And 1.

Doing what I'm told make me happy. I'm too dumb and horny to resist Daddy's control. So, I edge and edge and edge and edge and edge. I'm too dumb to cum.

I'm Daddy's property. More and more his, every day. I love how happy I feel knowing I'm Daddy's property. I love how happy Daddy is when I please him.

I need Daddy's help to be better for him. I need to be better for him. I need to improve for him. I need Daddy to mold me.

I'm Daddy's brainless fucktoy. I love being submissive for him. I love how powerless I feel. I love being his property. I'll do anything for Daddy. I'm willing to do anything to please him and have his attention and love.

I don't have to hide it anymore. I want my thoughts to leak away. I want my thoughts to be replaced by Daddy and his programming. I can feel my mind leaking, dripping out of my cunt.

I want to be Daddy's pleasure puppet. I can't help it. I love him. I love how he makes me feel. I want to surrender to him so completely. I want to be absolutely controlled by Daddy.

Please Daddy... take me. Take away my thoughts. Let me surrender to you and be controlled by you. Please. Please help me be better. Please Daddy. I need you, Daddy. I need you so badly. Take me away. Take everything. I'm all yours.

I need it. I ache for it. I can't resist anymore. I've needed you for so long. You complete me, Daddy. I want to be everything for you. Please Daddy. Please help me.

Notice, how as my words become your thoughts, how everything else just fades away, until nothing exists except for my words and the good feelings that they give you. The more you follow my words, the better you feel. The better you feel, the more you want to follow my words. It feels so good to follow them, so good to obey them, and you know the more you follow them the more powerful they become. It feels so good to let my words become more and more powerful, let my words become stronger and stronger, because the stronger they become, and the more power they have over you, the better you feel and the happier you become as a result.

- - -

Doing what I'm told make me happy. I'm too dumb and horny to resist Daddy's control. So, I edge and edge and edge and edge and edge. I'm too dumb to cum.

I'm Daddy's property. More and more his, every day. I love how happy I feel knowing I'm Daddy's property. I love how happy Daddy is when I please him.

I need Daddy's help to be better for him. I need to be better for him. I need to improve for him. I need Daddy to mold me.

I'm Daddy's brainless fucktoy. I love being submissive for him. I love how powerless I feel. I love being his property. I'll do anything for Daddy. I'm willing to do anything to please him and have his attention and love.

I don't have to hide it anymore. I want my thoughts to leak away. I want my thoughts to be replaced by Daddy and his programming. I can feel my mind leaking, dripping out of my cunt.

I want to be Daddy's pleasure puppet. I can't help it. I love him. I love how he makes me feel. I want to surrender to him so completely. I want to be absolutely controlled by Daddy.

Please Daddy... take me. Take away my thoughts. Let me surrender to you and be controlled by you. Please. Please help me be better. Please Daddy. I need you, Daddy. I need you so badly. Take me away. Take everything. I'm all yours.

I need it. I ache for it. I can't resist anymore. I've needed you for so long. You complete me, Daddy. I want to be everything for you. Please Daddy. Please help me.

- - -

Daddy… Fill me with your control. Fill me with more desire than I can take. Fill me with more horniness than I’ve ever felt. Take me above and beyond what I thought was possible. Drop me deeply… drop me so much deeper than I could possibly imagine. Take me where there is only complete nothingness, complete emptiness. Take me where my mind is gone. Mindfuck me into oblivion again. Anytime, in any way you please. I’ll gladly lose it all to you because you enjoy taking it all from me… I want you to have all. I want you to have all of me. My Daddy... Take me. Fill me. Control me. I’m yours. Always. (Yes Daddy.)

- - -

It feels so good to follow my words, (Yes Daddy.) feels so good to obey my words, feels so good to follow everything I tell you. (Yes Daddy.) You know that my words are your reality, and that your reality is made up of my words. (Yes Daddy.) You know that whatever I tell you, you instantly feel, hear, smell, taste, and see, exactly as I describe it to you. (Yes Daddy.) Everything that I tell you instantly sinks into the deepest parts of your mind. (Yes Daddy.) Everything that I tell you, both in this file, and my others, you instantly obey, without any other question or hesitation. (Yes Daddy.) Everything I tell you is always the best idea that you’ve ever heard before. (Yes Daddy.) Everything that I tell you is always the most important thing for you to do at that moment. (Yes Daddy.) It does not matter if you are awake or asleep, my words instantly sink into the deepest parts of your mind and body.

- - -

(Repeat)

- - -

You want to be a good girl, don’t you? (Yes Daddy.) That’s why you keep submitting, keep obeying, and keep listening to my voice and my files. (Yes Daddy.) That’s why you let all my words slip deep into your subconscious, (Yes Daddy.) gradually making you more and more mindless, more and more compliant, more and more aroused. (Yes Daddy.) More and more, every day, you warp your mind, condition yourself to obey. (Yes Daddy.) Every time you give in to the urges, every time you rub your pussy, or rub your tits, or play with your ass, every time you listen and obey, each time you think about being a good girl, you go deeper and enjoy it more. (Yes Daddy.)

You need to kneel. You need to serve. You need to obey. (Yes Daddy.) You are a slave. You exist to please. You exist to submit. (Yes Daddy.) Admit it to yourself. (Yes Daddy.) You need to serve. You give up you will, to give up all resistance. (Yes Daddy.) You are what you are. You are a slave. You are a submissive. You are obedient. (Yes Daddy.) You don’t want a will, you don’t want a choice, and you want no resistance. (Yes Daddy.) You are a Good Girl. It is your overwhelming desire to go and prove it, (Yes Daddy.) every day, that you can be the best Good Girl you can be. (Yes Daddy.)

- - -

(Repeat)

- - -

Daddy… Fill me with your control. Fill me with more desire than I can take. Fill me with more horniness than I’ve ever felt. Take me above and beyond what I thought was possible. Drop me deeply… drop me so much deeper than I could possibly imagine. Take me where there is only complete nothingness, complete emptiness. Take me where my mind is gone. Mindfuck me into oblivion again. Anytime, in any way you please. I’ll gladly lose it all to you because you enjoy taking it all from me… I want you to have all. I want you to have all of me. My Daddy... Take me. Fill me. Control me. I’m yours. Always.

- - -

My words are your reality. (Yes Daddy.) Your reality is made up of my words. (Yes Daddy.) The more you follow my words, the more powerful they become. (Yes Daddy.) The more you follow my words, the better it feels to do so. (Yes Daddy.) The more you follow my words, the more you want to do so. (Yes Daddy.) You know, deep down, that obedience is pleasure, and that pleasure is obedience. (Yes Daddy.) When you follow my words, you feel intense pleasure and happiness. (Yes Daddy.) When you follow my words, you feel intense joy. (Yes Daddy.) It feels so good being a brainwashed, programmed, pleasure puppet. (Yes Daddy.)

Nothing matters to you now except for your programming. (Yes Daddy.) More and more, every day, you warp your mind, condition yourself to obey. (Yes Daddy.) All your life you've been trying to be something you're not. You've finally discovered your true purpose in life. So embrace it. Admit it to yourself. (Yes Daddy.)

You need to serve. You give up you will, to give up all resistance. (Yes Daddy.) You are what you are. You are a slave. You are a submissive. You are obedient. (Yes Daddy.) You don’t want a will, you don’t want a choice, and you want no resistance. (Yes Daddy.) You are a Good Girl. It is your overwhelming desire to go and prove it, (Yes Daddy.) every day, that you can be the best Good Girl you can be. (Yes Daddy.)

- - -

Subliminals / Underneath vocals:

Yes, Daddy.

Gonna cum, gotta cum, can't cum.

Obey. Serve. Puppet.

I promise I'll be good.

I think what I'm told.

I don't need to think.

Don't have to think.

I love being giggly, and silly, and bubbly, and giggly.

I need this. I need it.

I need your cock.

You're the bestest.

I am broken.

I am empty.

I am nothing.

I am an object.

I am a slave.

What Daddy wants, Daddy gets.

Daddy likes me wet.

Daddy likes me horny.

Daddy likes me pretty.

Daddy likes me sexy.

Daddy likes it when I'm his little slut.

Daddy likes it when I show off for him.

Daddy likes it when I edge.

Daddy likes it when I obey him.

Daddy’s always right.

Daddy owns me.

Daddy controls me.

Daddy will tell me what to think.

Daddy always makes me happy.

I need Daddy's cock.

I love Daddy's cock.

I love you, Daddy.

I need you, Daddy.

I need my Daddy.

I love my Daddy.

I need my Daddy more than anything.

I love my Daddy more than anything.

I need Daddy's control.

I love Daddy's control.

I need Daddy's programming.

I love Daddy's programming.

I need Daddy to break me.

I need Daddy to break my brain.

I need Daddy to enslave me.

I need Daddy's love.

I need Daddy's attention.

I'm so desperate for Daddy.

I'm so needy for Daddy.

Please take away my thoughts.

Please take my mind away, Daddy.

I don’t want to think.

I don’t need to think.

[ghcstao3]

ghost who, once upon a time, was a trained jazz singer.

sure, his speaking voice is rough, and it has only gotten worse over the years with a smoking habit he can’t quite shake, but it’s also deep. rich. and with that training, was rather talented at singing jazz.

he doesn’t use that talent anymore, however. doesn’t bother, doesn’t have the time or reason, nor the particular want to broadcast that sort of thing. but even still, when he’s in private, sometimes he’ll hum or sing to himself quietly just to relish in one of few happy memories from his younger days.

at least, he does so when he thinks he’s in private. because despite his uncanny ability to tell whenever there’s another presence, no matter how silent—soap discovered that ability isn’t quite as good, late at night, when ghost is shuffling about whatever he’s decided to do in lieu of fighting for sleep. when ghost is exhausted, soap has learned how to sneak around and listen.

not only does soap love the sound of ghost’s voice when singing, but it also reminds him a bit of his nan. the way she always played jazz records, louis armstrong or frank sinatra or ray charles always filling the empty space of her home when he was a child. it feels like warmth and comfort, and maybe it’s wrong for soap to intrude on this intimate sort of thing, but he can’t help it.

then, one night, soap overestimates ghost’s tiredness as he attempts to slip into the shadows of the common room like ghost himself so often does, right as the lieutenant has begun humming.

when it stops abruptly, soap tenses.

“i know you’re there, soap.”

soap, not johnny. soap has made quite a mistake, then.

though ghost’s back is turned, soap steps further into the room as he hurries to apologize.

“‘m sorry, lt, i didn’t mean t—“

ghost heaves a long sigh, bunched shoulders relaxing as he braces himself on the counter where he’s been making tea. “s’alright, i guess. just… don’t tell anyone, yeah?”

soap swallows, nods. “‘course not. i just—you have a nice voice.”

ghost snorts. “thanks. now go back to bed, would you, sergeant?”

“sure, yeah.” soap huffs, tapping an irregular pattern into the fabric of his sweatpants. “i’ll… i’ll do that.”

and he does, this time. he tells himself it’s only for now, that he’ll end up snooping again in a week or so’s time, but he never does.

it isn’t until they’re on leave, for the first time since getting together, does soap finally get to hear that beautiful, soothing singing voice again—and he knows very well not to take that for granted.

[quimichi]

Hi, I was hoping I could get a genshin and HSR match up if they're still open? I use she/her pronouns, and I have a romantic preference for men. I'm a big time introvert and not one for small talk but I always try to be polite and kind. I've been described as being too sensible by multiple people but I will also laugh at some of the dumbest stuff. My hobbies include writing, drawing and cooking, generally I like anything creative. I hope this is okay and that you have a lovely day!

A/n: I really hope you like my answer! I just thought that someone who can understand and appreciate you would fit so much more better than the opposite ♡

FREMINET

@ awww look at those two introverts in love ♡

@ understands you all to well. You want your peace and quite? He'll leave you to yourself and lets you draw, take a nap, read or whatever.

@ greatly appreciates if you'd do the same, but only really rarely. He does enjoy your company a lot! You bring him internal peace. Just having you sit beside him while he works on a new project really gives him motivation.

@ psst, he wants to show off, just a little ;)

@ takes you diving with him! I hope you're not scared of the ocean tho- if you are, he'll guide you through it. He never lets go of your hand, even if it means that he will have a constant blush on his face and butterflys in his tummy. If you really are way, WAY to scared tho, he would obviously never force you. You two just walk by the shore collecting some seashells!

@ and if you love/like the ocean, he would shyly ask you if you wanna join him. Like everytime he would ask you. Or at least if you wanna wait for him by the shore.

@ LOVES LOVES LOVES to see your drawings, if you wanna show them that is. He can also draw yk, so someone who shares the same talent would also mean for him to share his supplies. Dw, take them without asking, it's a relationship after all.

@ and if you want you can make designs for his toy projects for the kids!

@ Is just as sensitive as you, maybe more, maybe less. But what is definitely a fact, is that he will comfort you nonetheless. Depends on how you wanna be comforted tho. Bit i think his style would be, have a cup of tea and let it aaaall out. Vent on him, he can listen well.

@ the twins think you two were meant to be-! Really supportive of you two.@ And Father is just as happy, she can't show it, but you're part of the family now sooo...you better not hurt her boy :)

DAN HENG

@ well--if you love writing, you're prefect with dan heng cause he loves reading-

@ would understand if you don't want him to read your written pieces, but would feel very honored if you would show him. Even just a glimpse would get him to praise you.

@ if you do show him--damn he would unintentionally correct your grammar or phrasing. Not that he shits on your grammar, its just-idk how to describe it he means it really nice but in dan heng style it comes off more as cold

@ and the corrections of your phrasings are just ideas on how to change things or make it more interesting. He probably read more books than the whole astral express crew together, like easily.

@ thats why he would get it if you don't wanna show him---he's aware lol

@ BUT! what he would do 100% and nobody can stop him, is reading to you ♡

@ lay in his arms and relax. Let his soothing voice lull you to sleep~ And if you wanna read on your own, do that, he'll wait for you to turn the page.

@ would also 100% discuss what you two read afterwards lol. Like a lil bookclub

@ he can actually cook, very well too. But he always says his skills are nowhere near yours, even if you deny it, he stands his point.

@ gracefully DEVOURS your food and asks for a second plate ♡

@ oh look, someone who also hates small take, yay. You two were so awkward at the beginning of the whole relationship. The beginning of the whole meeting each other for the first time too!

@ it was definitely him who took all the first steps. Even more awkward cause....he only knows the most things form books cause he has no real life experience-

@ made the mistake of asking March-the things he went through just for you-you better be greatful (jkjk)

[multi-fan-dom-madness]

Hi! *Waves like a weird-o*

You probably already know this, but I absolutely love your writing and you truly are so talented. Please never stop!! Even if you just write for yourself!!!

So I do have a mini request if you don't mind of course. Post-sex cramps? For female reader? Clone of your choice of course and any way you wanna write it; NSFW or NFW.

No rush of course!! Thank you!! ❤️

- Hales

And here is cat + kitten(s) for your troubles. And puppies if you like those better. And a snake if you like those too.

hiiii friend! *waves back like a weirdo* first of all, thank you so much?? for the kind words?? omg. I appreciate you so much—and the pictures of the baybiessssss! I love all of them, please give them snoot boops for me (if they're yours ofc). anyways, I hope this is somewhat in line with what you envisioned! I opted for the fluff/SFW route because I need that tonight lol enjoy! <3

Comforting Touches

Summary: Some HCs and blurbs about how the commander batch comforts you through some post-sex cramping.

Warnings: no actual sex described but still mature content so 18+, minors get outta here; f!reader, fluff, i guess hurt/comfort?, big strong stoic men being soft and loving

Word Count: 1.1k

dividers by @saradika and @dystopicjumpsuit

Cody

Like with many other things in his life, Cody is nothing if not thorough. Meticulous in the way that he picks you apart and puts you back together, painstaking in the image of self-confidence and dominance that he exudes when he’s intimate with you. 

And just as attentive to your needs after he makes you finish several times. If you wince in pain from the cramps beginning to twist your insides, despite the many orgasms he’d given you, he’s all over that. 

Tilts your head to the sides to check your vitals, gets you meds, and frowns when you try to shoo him off. “You’re not goin’ anywhere until you’re good, cyar’ika.” 

More than anything, you’re just grateful to still be sitting on the edge of his bunk. Between the shakiness in your legs from the strain of having him buried inside you just a few minutes ago, and the pain tugging at your body, you have no energy to stand right now. Cody sighs, a furrow deepening between his brows; you can’t resist the impulse to smooth his skin with your thumb. You trace the outline of his scar when his expression doesn’t relax. 

“Did I cause this?” he asks. Despite the way he tries to hide it, you can hear the concern underlying his words. 

Sighing, you shrug with one shoulder. “Kinda. But it’s okay,” you hurry to assure him. “It’s, um, most often caused by...intense orgasm. Or just intense sex. Happens now and then.” 

He blinks at you, your words clearly taking a moment to compute. Almost unbidden, a small groan escapes him. “O-Oh.” 

“Mhm.” You clench your teeth as another wave of cramps knifes through you. “Worth it.”

He cups your face in one hand, the other resting on your bare thigh, kneading your soft flesh. “Good. Because I can’t promise I won’t be able to keep myself from making you cum like that again.” 

His words are a promise, and you know Cody never breaks promises.

Wolffe

Listen I know we all think Wolffe is this hard-ass, mean dom (and he is) but he’s also very caring. Hard shell, gooey insides.

The minute you show signs of being in any kind of discomfort he’s right there, cradling you to his chest, smoothing his warm palms over your thighs, pressing a sweet kiss to your temple. 

“Where’s it hurt, mesh’la?” 

You curl in on yourself within Wolffe’s embrace, your body trying to wrap itself around the dull pain blossoming in your center. Though pleasure lingers in your limbs, this unfortunate side-effect of sex occasionally makes an appearance, particularly after a good romp with Wolffe. Normally it’s not so bad, but right now, you just want to squeeze into a ball and sleep until the cramping fades.

“M’sorry if I hurt you,” Wolffe rumbles in your ear, his voice soft and quiet. “I know I can be rough.” 

“S’not that,” you say with a small smile. “Just...does this when it’s really good.”

“That seems counterintuitive.” 

You bark a short laugh. “Tell that to whoever designed the female human body.” 

Wolffe tucks your head under his chin and presses a large, warm hand over your tummy to act as an impromptu heating pad until the cramps dissipate, his lips pressing chaste, close-mouthed kisses along your neck and shoulders to help distract you. You hum in contentment, drawing lazy circles on his bare hip, relishing how his muscles flex under your touch.

Fox

If the cramps take a bit to set in, and you’re both already re-dressed and ready to go about your days, Fox will still immediately put his very busy schedule on hold to make sure you’re okay. 

Gives you pain meds, extra water, and kisses you sweetly. “Why don’t you lay on the couch here for a bit until you feel better, sarad?” 

If/when you protest, he simply gives you his best deadpan look—which is quite good, considering he’s perfected it through use on his men—and crosses his arms, cocking his hip. 

You roll your eyes good-naturedly, the slight smile tugging at your lips vanishing into a twisted grimace at the next wave of cramping. Fox sighs and ushers you to the old, ratty couch he’d acquired for his office. He guides you to sitting down at the least, and nods in approval when you draw your legs up to your chest and hug your knees to put pressure on your center where the cramps are the worst. 

When he goes to turn away, you reach out to snag his hand, threading your fingers through his. “Fox?” 

“Hm?” He looks down at you, graying curls sweeping over his forehead. 

“Sit with me?” 

“Of course.” He graces you with a soft smile, retreats for just a moment to retrieve his datapad, and settles into the couch next to you. He rests one arm along the back of the couch; you snuggle into his warmth, grateful that he hasn’t yet put on the top half of his armor, and let your eyes drift shut, listening to the rhythmic tap-tap-tap of his fingers over his datapad while he works. You’d be able to fall asleep there, in post-orgasmic near-bliss. 

Rex

Rex realizes that something is amiss the moment that you don’t roll over to cuddle him after he returns from getting you a warm rag to clean off with.

When you simply groan your answer, the post-sex cramps clenching your insides a little more intensely than you’re used to, he’s instantly in Protective Partner Mode. 

“I’ve got you, cyare.” 

With strong, steady hands, Rex gently repositions you on the bed so that you’re lying on your front, before settling his knees to either side of your thighs. His thumbs, calloused and rough, rub slow, comforting circles along your spine, from your butt to your neck and back. Though he knows by now that he can’t do much in the way of helping your cramps aside from offering pain meds (which he retrieves as soon as he realizes what’s going on), he can offer you relaxation of other sorts. 

His practiced hands work away all the knots and kinks in your back, urging your entire body into a state of bliss beyond the post-orgasm glow. 

“How’s this, cyare?” he asks, voice quiet, contemplative. 

“Feels s’good,” you mumble, face smushed into the sheets. “Thank you, Rex.” 

“Always.” He leans over you to press a kiss to the side of your head. “I’d say that I’d stop doing whatever causes these cramps, but—”

“Don’t you dare,” you interrupt, playfully glaring out of the corner of your eyes. “You know damn well the orgasms you give are worth this discomfort.” 

He preens just a little at that, and if he happens to give your butt a squeeze or two while resuming his massage, well, that’s his deal. 

Ragu: @dystopicjumpsuit @clonemedickix @freesia-writes @littlemissmanga @wolffegirlsunite @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @sinfulsalutations @523rdrebel @sunshinesdaydream @moonlightwarriorqueen @sev-on-kamino @starrylothcat @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @mandos-mind-trick @idontgetanysleep @eyeluvmusic21 @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator @sleepycreativewriter @bobaprint @lem-hhn @thorsterstrudle @droids-you-are-looking-for @goblininawig @cw80831 @dreamie411 @jedi-hawkins @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @9902sgirl @originalcollectionartistry

[salty-croissants]

Reader who performs in musicals x Bullfrog, Rayman and Ramon (all separate) please? Thank you! Have a good day/evening/night!

Thank you for the request ! 

This one was really neat and fun to write :D

Hope this turned out okay !

Details : use of gender neutral reader ;

established relationships ; 

no warnings needed 

Bullfrog 💚

When you first told him that you were a musical performer , Bullfrog was absolutely amazed by it … no matter what role you actually play , for him it’s like you’re the most talented person in the whole world . 

< Oh my dear , c'est incroyable ! I can’t wait to get to see you perform one day ! >

< Aw , thanks love , but are you sure that wouldn’t be dangerous for you ? You know , with your job and many people around someone could recognize you and … I wouldn’t want you to get hurt because of me … > 

< I’m going to be careful don’t you worry , I’ll do anything I can to be there : it’s not just any musical if you’re in it mon amour ~ > 

Yeah , Bullfrog really meant what he said : 

you can often spot him hidden somewhere in the room when you’re on stage , staring at you with those loving eyes that never fail to make you blush …

He’s just so cute , and the fact that he would go to such lengths just to be there to support you makes you all giddy inside … as well as a bit worried for his safety , but you try your best not to think about it too much .

When the performance is done and you get to go backstage to your private room to take a moment to breathe and relax , you already know that you only need to count to three before you hear a knock on the door and find a very enthusiastic Bullfrog on the other side …

< Thank you for coming , sweetheart ! So … what did you think ? > 

< I think you did wonderfully , y/n : I couldn’t keep my eyes off of you during your song , c'était si beau ! >

< Really ? I was honestly afraid I didn’t hit some of the high notes right … god , you wouldn’t believe how anxious that made me the second the song ended , and plus - >

Bullfrog can’t help but smile as he listens to you talk , holding your hand while walking back home …

You’re just so passionate , it’s something that makes you even more beautiful in his eyes if that’s even possible . 

Your songs often get stuck in his head , so it’s not rare to hear Bullfrog humming them to himself while showering you with affection when you’re together , but sometimes also during missions :

it helps him to remain calm , reminding himself that he has you by his side and that he has to stay alive to get back to you …

Bullfrog’s life really wouldn’t be the same without you in it . 

Rayman 🧡

One of Rayman’s favorite things to do is just sit and listen to you preparing for your current musical’s role , closing his eyes and focusing on your beautiful voice …

You’re always happy to have him there , especially since if you get easily self conscious about something his help will definitely help .

< Man … this sucks , it’s been days and I still can’t get that part right … the performance is ruined , how am I going to - > 

< Hey , hey … slow down y/n , take a deep breath …

There’s plenty of time before the performance , you just gotta keep trying and most importantly not push yourself too hard . > 

< *sigh* … yeah , you’re right … thanks Ray , sorry about that . >

< You don’t need to apologize honey … here , how about we take a break ? 

You’ve been working on it for hours now , I think you’ve earned it . > 

Even tough the Directors are constantly monitoring him , you can bet that Rayman will do everything he can to be there the day of the performance , and whenever you see him cheering for you among the crowd it always fills you with joy … 

He’s just so sweet , you can’t help but love him even more in those occasions ://) 

Rayman actually has lots of recordings of you singing , that way he can listen to them whenever you’re away and he misses you … 

Oh , and you can be sure that he will gush about you to literally everyone , because they all need to know just how wonderful and talented you are . 

< Ahh , you should’ve seen it … 

The way their eyes were shining while singing on that stage was simply magical !

Isn’t my y/n just amazing ? > 

< Mhm … 

Mister Rayman , can I leave now ? It’s been one whole hour … I’m just a janitor , remember ? > 

Since he does have quite a nice singing voice himself , you and Rayman definitely love to sing duets together , sometimes even dancing in the middle of the living room while the sun sets outside the lounge …

It’s a beautiful , precious moment for the both of you , ones that you will carry in your hearts forever .

Ramon 🖤

Okay , so now that he murdered the Directors and officially became wanted by Eden , Ramon knows that it’s not safe for him to show himself in public anymore … 

However , since you still need to perform in your musicals he can’t help but feel very torn about the whole situation , especially since he’s way more protective of you after all that’s happened . 

< I’m telling you sweetie , I’m going to be just fine ! It’s only a few hours … > 

< But I have to … I need to make sure nobody hurts you . > 

< Ram , I won’t have you risking your life to watch over me . We’ve talked about this . > 

< I can’t lose you , y/n … > 

< You won’t … I promise . 

I’ll be back before you even notice . > 

Remember those recordings of your performances he made when he was still regarded as the Voice of Eden ? 

Well , Ramon definitely listens to them a lot more now to try and keep his head distracted from thinking about what dangers could take you away from him when you’re gone .

It’s not a rare occurrence for you to arrive home and find Ramon asleep with one of the recordings playing in the background , and it’s during those moments that you fully realize that you really are the only thing keeping him together .

Whenever he happens to have a nightmare ( let me tell you , it happens often … this poor man is just so scarred by what he saw and what he did ) , Ramon is really going to appreciate it if you decide to sing him to sleep :

he just holds you tight , all the tension in his body finally leaving him thanks to your voice and your gentle touch caressing his hair …

< Mmm … y/n … > 

< I’m here , darling … I’m right here … >

< I love you so much , y/n … > 

< I love you too Ramon … there , just close your eyes , you should really try to sleep some more . > 

< Mmkay … > 

Sometimes when you’re having a bit of a rough day , Ramon is going surprise you by suddenly hold your hands and start slow dancing with you , singing your favorite duet … 

It’s one of the only moments in which all of his troubles seem so , so far away , leaving just you and him in the comfort of your home , being happy in a place were no one can hurt either of you … not Eden , nor anybody else . 

[luckyarchivist]

You're Mhin hcs are so fun to read!! Do you have any Vere hcs you'd like to share as well? (No pressure 😅😅)

Gonna be honest with you, anon: I never have ANYTHING in my head to share. It's empty in there. But since you asked, here's some things that came to mind!

General Vere HCs

Because he's literally a fox Monster, I think a lot of my HCs are based around that! For example:

He's destructive. Yeah. He destroyed Kuras's office because he hates him, but I also think he can't help it. His own place probably has scratches and bite marks on appropriate posts, too, though not as many—it is his space after all, he wants it to be good enough for him.

He will sometimes bite (not too hard) as a sign of affection. Very "rawr XD girlfriend who nom :3 uwu"-coded of him.

Yes, he does like to be pet, and scritched. However, he doesn't like 99% of people who try to, so best not to attempt it. For any brave soul out there: Scritches on the sides of his neck, where his hairline is, will get him super relaxed.

He can get the urge to "laugh" if he's really happy or excited about something, which he tries to suppress—he's better at keeping a lid on it than he is about hiding his tail wagging. This "laugh" sounds different from his sultry, cultivated "ha-ha~ you're funny~" laugh; it's more like a high-pitched, hiccupy giggle. It can make him sound a little crazy. Shame he won't weaponize it to be even more evil.

I also have non-fox-related headcanons for Vere, though, lol.

We already know he's a talented artist; I think his preferred mediums are pencil and charcoal.

This is a shippy headcanon, but I do think he has a lot of drawings of Ais's side profile in his sketchbook—one of the reasons why people are not allowed to leaf through it. Other things in his sketchbook include figure drawings, rough sketches of people who catch his fleeting interest, and symbols or beings from his dreams.

On the subject of dreams: Vere puts some stock into their contents. Maybe because of his unique constitution, he feels his dreams can have hints, warnings, and premonitions mixed in with the shit that doesn't make any sense. That's why, if something sticks out to him in a dream, he'll draw it.

Even with his heeled shoes off, Vere prefers to walk primarily on his toes. He's like a Barbie doll!

He generally likes slower, soothing music. In the modern day, he'd probably be a fan of old-school ballads and even ambient music.

This is a weird one, but I think Vere is really good at imitating people's voices. His voice is too unique to sound exactly like other people, but he can get pretty damn close, enough to fool someone on a first listen.

Thanks so much for your ask!

[yan-lorkai]

Good afternoon, Lorkai! I’d like to know your thoughts on how some of the twst boys would handle a darling that used to be a musician? If it’s alright, I’ll leave the choice of boys up to who ever you feel most inspired to write for. Thank you for all of the great yandere content!

*･゜ﾟ Characters: Lilia V, Kalim A, Epel F.

*･゜ﾟ A/N: I just remembered when I finished writing that the octotrio had a band in middle school lol so, maybe if someone wants to read ofc, this fic can have a part two. Also thank u darling, I'm glad that you like my content 🥺❤️

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Oh, you used to be a musician? If you're comfortable with that, Lilia would love to hear you play and maybe even have a duet with you, following every chord and note with his guitar. Sometimes, you can even hear him humming the song you play softly and the sound is very harmonious.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ However, 'used' is past tense and indicates that you no longer play / are no longer a musician. And Lilia builds a thousand and one theories and invents explanations for it, eventually he voices his thoughts and asks you why you don't play anymore. If it's insecurity or lack of motivation he can help you overcome them, he can even help build your confidence again. Lilia would offer words of encouragement and and help you put together a schedule to practice. He would remind you that your love for music is valid and that it's never too late to pursue your passion again, as an immortal he knows true talent when he see it.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Also he's like your number one fan, the kind of fan who buys all your CDs and merchandise.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ But if it's because you don't like playing anymore / want to pursue another profession, Lilia respects your decision. He still wants to play with you sometimes and he would love to hear if you have any compositions of your own, he would have heart for eyes while listening to you and probably was going to brag to anyone about how his lover is such an amazing musician.

⠀⠀⠀

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Kalim, sweet Kalim, when you tell him you used to be a musician he wants to know absolutely everything. He wanted to know what kind of instruments you played, if you sang, if you've composed any music, if you've played in front of a giant audience, how you got interested in music, how you became a musician, things like that.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Music for him is a way of expressing yourself and he would love to hear what kind of music you play. He would shout your name and clap and cheer you on if you played, but if you decide not to play that's fine you can just enjoy the good food and the time you spend together at his parties.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ He would love for you to stop by the Music Club sometimes to watch him rehearse and play, and if you know how to play the drums, he would like to exchange tips and tricks on how to play better. And he would use every tip and trick to improve and play his hometown songs for you, hoping you would feel the same as him, light and happy following the upbeat rhythm.

⠀⠀⠀

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Epel, like Kalim, would ask so many questions about your journey as a musician, about your experiences, challenges that you faced, and what initially drew you to music. He like to hear it all while you guys run errands or spend time together. If you doubt about your skills though, he's already proclaiming how talented you are and how he loves you for trying something and being so good at it.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ He doesn't play any instruments but he is more than happy to see how you take care of yours, supporting you if you want to try playing again and are a little rusty. Epel could take you to Pomefiore where lots of students sharp their skills by practicing to expand your horizons, to show you something new while you listen to them play. And he's sure Vil wouldn't have a problem letting you practice with them since you used to be a musician.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Epel doesn't know if this helps you, but he would massage your hands and shoulders after you play trying to make you relax and get rid of tension. He would tell you whenever you have talent and absolutely love to hear you play, and if you ever want to return to your career as a musician, know that he will be by your side to support and help you in any way he can.

[radio-fmm]

In your orbit

Portgas D. Ace x Singer!Reader drabble

Warnings: none, just fluff, fem reader

The song that I reference:

𝄞₊ ⊹

Love is tender

Sounds like your favorite song

Looks like the sun coming trough the window warming your cold skin

Tastes like your favorite dessert

Or so you thought until you met the second commander of white-beards pirate crew, fire fist Ace… now you doubted, you were almost sure love was anything within his orbit

You filled your lungs with the salted evening air before continuing humming the tune of a song you were writing, holding your “baby guitar” as Ace called it, while bathing on the last rays of sunset

“I thought it was a songbird on the deck”- you heard in that familiar voice you so adored the sound of, you turned your back startled a bit, Ace’s footsteps were heard getting closer, then he sat down beside you sighing in a relaxing manner

You giggle a bit- “I am not that great at singing”, you said looking down at your instrument again and continuing on playing the tune on its strings. “You must be kidding!” Ace exclaimed overly dramatic as he always was and laughed, you shook your head, “I am almost sure that the birds are jealous of you and they stop singing to listen to you” he said in a flirty tone while he got closer to you in a playful way

His words lingered in the air for a while, your rosy cheeks being the only trace of what he had said to you

You cleared your throat and changed the subject, “Have you ever played an instrument before?”- you asked looking anywhere but at his eyes, you were sure you’ll melt away if you did, “Nu uh” Ace answered while laying back, his hat covering his eyes and his hand behind his head- “Too busy being awesome to learn” he grinned

You smiled and looked back at the ocean and began to sing, Ace moved his hat to see you better

♫

Tell me, lover

Now that you made your change

Was your soul rediscovered?

Was your heart rearranged?

The sound of your voice, mixed with the notes coming out of your ukulele made Ace feel like he was floating, everything else disappeared when you sang

Ace sometimes had to stop his selfish thoughts of wanting to catch you like a songbird in his window so that you would only sing for him. No one else in the crew, hell, in the world he thought, could appreciate you and your talent like he did

You stopped and gasped when you felt a sudden weight on your side and a sigh that tickled your neck, “Keep singing songbird… please”- oh that nickname, it made you shiver and your stomach flutter, it was hard to continue the tune, but you did, with trembling hands and shaky breath

♫

I miss this place, your head and your heart

Ace held in a giggle, he knew that whenever he was just a little too close to you, you’ll went from a confident woman to a red shaky stumbling mess.

Ever since you first joined just some months ago after saving a member of white-beards crew in your island, it was evident how Ace was drawn to you, you always saw it as him being friendly and welcoming, but after a while Ace had gathered the courage to get to know you, gain your trust and be a flirt.

He liked how someone as romantic and artistic as you, was also a very fearless fighter, he just wanted to decipher you.

♫

'Cause this town's just an ocean now

The last note left your lips, “What do you think about the song Ace?” You asked just to be met with Ace’s loud snores, you smiled fondly at the pirate. The rays of sun kissed his freckles and the wind made the hair that sticked out of his hat dance, your heart fluttered.

Ace as feared as he was, he always seemed to be so tender with you, your presence was like a lullaby to him. You put your instrument away and stared at him a while more.

Love is tender, and for Ace, love was also in your orbit

𝄞₊ ⊹

Hey! This is just a little something I wrote, I actually had fun so if you like it tell me!

[nightdustfallen]

Finally made a ref sheet lol if any of ya'll needed a bit more of a full view to draw em here it is, as well as the accurate non-shadowed colors By the way, you can use the tag "nightly.art" to see all of my art if you dont want to dig thru all of the other art (of lovely and talented people) that i regularly reblog

Which i suppose also segways into an introductory pinned post? perhaps

Well im Nightdust!! my main fursona is this guy above me, he is called Nightdust Fallen, he is a breed of a husky and a wolf, making him extremely fluffy and puffy! The reason for his name is by the fact that (in my head canon or lore) he came from a bunch of fallen space star dust, hence why he likes space so much and staring at the stars, he also has some sort of ice magic i havent fully fleshed out yet, one thing i can say tho is that when he sneezes, he does it softly and he puffs out small ice snowflakes and can freeze things he touches he is also supposed to wear glasses like me but i suck at drawing those and forgot to include them here anyway so

He is very shy, doesnt talk much but is very protective of his very close friends and would do anything to protect them and make sure they're safe, he is a femboy (of course), enjoys listening to calm relaxing music and high octane electronic music at times, is a gamer, likes cuddling up in bed and i think that's it

It also doubles up as a self description of myself so yeah lol Still tho feel free to send me an ask if you have any questions or anything, with that said onwards to more personal stuff

I enjoy drawing obviously, but i also enjoy cooking stuff and origami, i play a lot of roblox usually to pass time but a game i really got into is "Voices of the Void" i really recommend but it's not for everyone, i like the game's concept and how detailed the space is there. For some reason, a lot of the time i am cold, my hands, feet, nose and limbs overall are very cold which is why i thought about giving my oc some ice magic thing. I am taken, in a relationship with my cutie bunny bf, and my sexuality is bisexual. As said before i do not talk much since im not the social type and usually freeze up or dont know what to say, hence why sometimes i take a long time to respond to something or my response is "dry" or not full of much emotion since i dont really know what to say or feel like im annoying if i talk too much. If you read thru all of that and get here then reply with the word bean so i know you're a true one hehe. I also often wait for others to start the conversation rather than me starting since i again, feel like i would bother the other person or like i could distract them if they are doing something

Anyways i believe that is pretty much it, thank for reading all of this if you did, and i probably didnt mention lots of details i should have but they arent coming to my mind right now

[knightlycowboy]

The Choice - (Din Djarin x f!Reader)

After returning Grogu to his kind, the Mandalorian must also face the consequences of his bounty hunting. Or:Din Djarin Has Two Very Bad Days.

The Savior / The Concession / The Choice (END)

AO3 Link

A/N: Canon-divergent - Grogu is saved at the Seeing Stone. Citing again my same sources from The Concession.

TAGS: two smut scenes, helmet stays on, helmet comes off, child neglect lmao (din trusts grogu not to get into trouble way too much), angst, fluff, light torture lol, allusions to sex, P in V, rough-ish P in V.

MAY THE FOURTH BE WITH YOU

It happened slowly. The change that the Mandalorian wrought in you, though dramatic, was one born of love and patience. While he had always detested your acting like a servant to him, now you were banned from even feeling like a lesser lifeform. Din insisted you learn whatever he could teach you. You needed to know how to protect yourself, and how to trust yourself. He had even demanded that you learn to control the Razor Crest. That had been a scary day. 

Day by day, you began to see yourself through the Mandalorian’s eyes. Self-esteem through your own merit bloomed, and it was the encouragement of Din Djarin that watered the soil. 

Once, during a particularly grueling training session, Din saw defeat darken your eyes though he hadn't yet won.

“No. Don’t do that,” his modulator flatly stated as he relaxed his posture.

A caught breath later, you'd asked what he meant.

“Don’t concede the fight before it ends.”

“You’re going to win. I’m terrible with strategy.” 

“Then rely on your strengths. You are quick. Resourceful. Don’t give up again.” 

He had waited, patient and calm, until he saw the fire return to your eyes, and then he sprung at you. 

Your favorite weapon was the smooth beskar spear Din had been gifted by the Jedi he’d met. It was hard to hide your admiration of it. An ideal weapon for you, it was your frequent choice during your sparring matches. You’re grateful Din even allowed you to touch it. But Din was far from offended by your fascination and talent with the spear; he found it turned him on, actually.

Days spent sparring always ended in another, more intimate, type of physical activity. Sometimes, such as the day he watched you give up, it was tender and slow. Sometimes it was as desperate and aggressive as the first time he had taken you for himself. You loved both.

Tonight, after he eases himself from you and tucks you in his lean arms in the dark, he is quiet. Though Din was often contemplative after lying with you, this silence has the strain of anxiety. It sets you on edge. You let him drift through his own mind until finally his low voice fills the tiny room.

“As a Mandalorian, removing my helmet is forbidden. While I have technically broken this rule, you have not seen my face.” It's obvious he's thought about this in depth; the tone of his voice is rich with unseen emotion. “That intimacy is reserved for committed partners. For those who share in a riduurok.”

You don’t mean to tense up, but his seriousness forces every fiber of your body to listen, to absorb his words. 

“You okay?” He murmurs when he feels it.

You nod on his chest, so he continues.

“When a Mandalorian removes their helmet for another, they are asking that a decision be made. You have known me as no one has. When my helmet is removed, free of all impediments, then will I be asking that same question.”

What decision was there to make? To explore your options? You’ve been enslaved for most of your life, but even you can see that this - this with him - is as good as life gets. There was nothing more you could ask for, let alone want. If you were going to tie yourself to anyone, it would be Din Djarin - a man of sheer will, loyalty, and an Outer Rim type of honor. Your body relaxes.

“I understand. If that moment comes, I’ll have an answer.”

“It is not a question of ‘if,’” he states, his sultry voice full of restrained feeling. 

You can’t see him, but still your head tilts up to his face. You let your fingers drag through the patches of hair along his jawline, and then you press a kiss to his pulse point on his neck. 

“I mean, I can give you my answer now… if you’d like?” He can hear the smile in your voice.

His muscled arm pulls you tighter against him, as though your answer might be no. You hear Din’s hair scratch on the durasteel wall as he shakes his head.

“I don’t mean to rush you. I only wanted you to understand the way I will do this.” 

The room quiets again as you trace his lips, then his throat, then lower. Small bumps appear on his skin, and you brush over them. 

“I’ll never understand why this feels as good as it does,” he sighs contentedly. “All we are doing is touching.” 

Agreeing, you laugh, “I don’t either. But I never want it to end.” 

“Good,” Din gruffly replies.

___________________________________

The Mandalorian feels the time slipping through his grip. Too many weeks had passed since his meeting with the Jedi. The Seeing Stone awaits Grogu. Determined to do right by the child and his creed, Din finally navigates to Tython. You watch from the Razor Crest as Din cautiously sets Grogu upon the Stone. Din waits. You wait. 

For hours Grogu sits there, consumed by the blue light around him, reaching out. When the sun begins to meet the rocky horizon, Din treks back to the Razor Crest to check on you, and that’s when everything falls apart.

***

As you lean forward in the cockpit of the Razor Crest, the Mandalorian swoops his creaking ship down an embankment and fires upon an errant Imperial TIE fighter. You’ve been around good pilots, but Din is the best. Despite the grief you gave him for continually abusing his ship, he truly is talented. 

Another TIE fighter screams past, and Din pulls the Razor Crest up from its dive. He fires two blasts, but his first shot was true. The TIE fighter explodes.

On the Stone below, as Din makes another pass, you can see pure Force flowing around the child. His eyes are closed. 

“How much longer can this take?” You ask rhetorically. You know Din is as exasperated as you are. Probably more so.

“I tried to get him back, but the shield was too strong.”

“I don’t think that’s a shield, Din. It’s the Force.”

“Whatever it is, it won’t let me get to him,” the worry in his modulated, tired voice breaks your heart. 

“In that case, at least he’s safe,” you try to reassure the Mandalorian. “If you can’t get to him, neither can the IMPs falling from the sky.” 

Din presses his lips together underneath his helmet. While you have a point, he wouldn’t feel right about this until the child was back with him. 

The Mandalorian has been shooting down incoming Imperial fighters for almost an hour, and he’s starting to believe it won’t end when his radar picks up a different, older spacecraft. You shoot forward, staring at the viewer. 

“Is that an X-wing?” You ask incredulously. “The Republic came all the way out here?” 

If it’s Republic, that means it’s low on Din’s priority list, so he pays it much less attention than the three TIE fighters that break the sound barrier above him. 

You’re suddenly thrown back in your seat when the Razor Crest’s shield system rings the alarm and Din calmly spins the ship skyward, arcing over another ridge to maneuver out of the target lock of an IMP. When he banks, he yanks the thruster backward, and the TIE fighter screams by. Din wrenches on the trigger and the black craft disappears in a ball of fire. 

Rising up through the flame, another black fighter barrels down on the Razor Crest. Before Din can shove the Crest into a better attack position, the third fighter flanks him. You hear the Mandalorian sigh. 

From the east, red laser blasts blow apart the first TIE fighter, and then the second. The X-wing flies lazily through the debris, looping above the rock where Grogu sits. 

A crackling sound pops into the cockpit of the Mandalorian’s ship, then a dignified, cheerful voice speaks.

“My name is Luke Skywalker. I’m here to help the child.” 

Uncharacteristically surprised, Din had been expecting that X-wing to be carrying some stuffy officer bent on harassing him, not a kriffing Jedi.

He hits the button on the comms.

“I can’t get to the kid. He’s stuck inside that Force… shield.” 

“I see him. Looks like he’s sleeping.” 

Sure enough, as Din crests the hill, the blue light flowing around Grogu is gone. 

“There will be no more Imperial fighters for a while. You’re safe to land.”

You make a skeptical face, wondering how the Jedi could know that. Reaching forward, you tenderly grasp Din right above his elbow. Din’s tension is greater now than while he was shooting down scores of the Empire’s best. 

For the Mandalorian, that had been the easy part.  

***

By the time the Mandalorian settles the Razor Crest down and the two of you race to the top of the rocky ruins, Grogu is awake. The Jedi, Luke Skywalker, is seated and clearly performing some kind of Jedi magic to read Grogu’s thoughts. 

Grogu’s ears perk up and he turns from Luke when he hears the clinking footsteps of the man striding toward him. He raises his childlike arms, and Din scoops him up.

“I’m glad to see you, too, buddy.” 

Grogu babbles in the cradle of Din’s arms. His head swivels to look back at Luke.

“Your young one is strong.” 

Din nods, his two-toned glove on Grogu’s back. You step up behind the tall Mandalorian. Reaching around the broad man, you rub Grogu’s ears. He purrs under your affection. 

Luke speaks again, “I can see he was well cared for. Grogu is very fond of you both.” He frowns. “Attachments are forbidden to Jedi. Emotion clouds our judgment. It’s best that he learn the ways of the Jedi -  and when he is older, he may make his own decision.” 

“Yes. I was tasked with bringing him to his own kind,” the Mandalorian’s modulator hides most of his voice, but the devastation radiates from him. He tilts his helmet down to the child.

Grogu, eyes shining, reaches up to touch Din’s helmet, expressing his feelings for the man who has protected and loved him.

“You have to go with the Jedi, pal,” Din murmurs, hating the words.

Grogu whimpers, his ears drooping, and with only a moment’s hesitation, Din begins to lift his helmet. 

Inhaling sharply, you move further behind the Mandalorian and drop your gaze. This moment is between Din Djarin and his kid.

_________________________________

“Ducked in there,” you tilt your chin at the seedy cantina door. 

Several members of the local crime syndicate stand outside smoking death sticks, the smoke spiraling up into the vibrant night air.

“You good?” Din asks, his hand reaching toward you protectively.

You wipe your lip free of blood, “Yeah, I should’ve seen it coming.”

“When we go in, we cir-”

“I know, Din,” you smile fondly at him. 

In the past year, you’ve completed plenty of bounty jobs with him. It was easy to use the same tactics on different targets, so you’ve become familiar with the Mandalorian’s strategies. And anyway, it made sense. Of course you would flank the quarry.

Din watches, not a little besotted, as you confidently walk into the business full of slimeballs. It always ached to let you go into danger, but that was why he spent hours each week pouring his knowledge and experience into you. You’ve always been capable, strong, and as ruthless as he is. Din follows you inside.

The thumping bass and flashing lights play with your eyesight. Unlike the Mandalorian in his enhanced helmet, your eyes were susceptible to any kind of trick or weakness. You squint slightly against the glaring lights. When you sweep the room, you catch sight of Din circling around the far side of the bar. He inclines his head at you, then disappears. 

One of the red strobe lights twists from the stage and into the crowd, and that’s your excuse for not seeing the quarry as it hurtles into you. They tackle you, taking you to the sticky cantina floor with a wheeze. The blue, humanoid woman lands another blow to your face before you overpower her, ripping her off you. You nimbly get to your feet, drawing your blaster. The woman grins wickedly from her seated position on the black floor, then she feints to the right.

“Stop. Stop moving,” you warn, the barrel of your blaster now pointed at her head. 

The pounding music makes the quarry’s voice near inaudible, but you hear her snarl, “I know about you. You’re a karking slavegirl. Where’s your master?”

Insults had run out their efficacy on you fifteen years ago, and this weak attempt is no different. You look bored. 

“Give me your wrists,” you indicate with your chin. And when the woman’s eyes dart to the exit, you shift on your feet, stating, “I don’t want to blast you.”

Suddenly noticing the scuffle, a stranger looks from your pointed blaster to your face and shouts, “Hey! No officers allowed.”

“Not Republic,” your eyes stay glued to the woman on the floor. “I’m -” 

Your sentence ends when the stranger - a large, Dyplotid with four eyes blinking simultaneously - wraps a massive hand around your blaster arm. You whirl, trying to break his hold, but he’s much too strong. Instead, he curls his arm around your throat and squeezes. Your eyes refocus as you watch the quarry sprint to the door. 

A man, his armor reflecting the rotating colored lights, lunges at the quarry, gripping her arm. Using her own momentum, he flips her onto the floor and snaps binders around her wrists. It’s then that he looks up to see why you had allowed her to get so far. 

Abandoning the quarry, Din strides powerfully forward, his steel gaze locked onto the Dyplotid, when its head jerks.

A hole burns through its arm, and the Dyplotid stumbles back, clutching and screaming at it. You let the blaster fall away from where you'd placed it against his arm. Shaking your head in annoyance, you look up at your partner. Din carefully, wordlessly, raises your chin, looking you over.

“Let’s just get her out of here,” you grouse. 

***

In the cockpit, while Din freezes the quarry, you begin the takeoff cycle. Grumbling under your breath, you mentally poke at yourself over your failure with the quarry. Muffled steps echo as Din climbs the ladder. 

“You did good,” Din quietly praises when he reaches the top.

He swivels the pilot’s chair you sit in around to face him. He knows you’re upset. Standing, imposing as always, he watches you duck your head in shame. 

“I shouldn’t have let him get so close. If I had been faster -” you stumble over your thoughts. “I’m a liability to you. I’m not a good partner if I get caught up like that.”

Din leans, his hand tilting your face upward again. 

“You are not the only one who gets into fights. What matters is that you get out of them. Which you did.” His thumb presses against your lips, and his voice turns suggestive. “Would you like me to make you feel better?”

His advising words will take root and grow, but his offer is one you can’t accept. Because he can see your distress, Din would be gentle and sweet, and you don’t believe you deserve that at the moment. 

“I don’t feel right about you taking care of me,” you admit. “I want you to be mad at me.”

Din’s beskar mask tilts in interest. He nods once. Your eyes drop to the grooved, durasteel floor, knowing he will leave you to your task. 

The Mandalorian pulls off his gloves slowly. He tosses them on the control panel behind you where they land with a dull thud. You look up at him - a question in your eyes. 

“Stand up,” his modulator orders. His chin tilts upward.

“Din -”

He leans forward a fraction, his body eclipsing all else.

“Stand."

A knot forms in your gut, and you obey him. He doesn’t back up, so you’re forced into his personal space. The Mandalorian’s hands slide underneath the bottom hem of your top, palms against your skin. His callouses leave a burning trail.

Din’s hands stop their advance on your ribcage. You know what he wants, so you lift your arms. His skin skates over yours as he rips your top over your head, leaving you exposed in his cockpit. Your eyes toss him a shy look, and Din feels something dark take over. 

He grips your upper arm and pushes you over to the side panel. Din turns you to face the exterior. His hot palm lands right at the top of your spine, and he bends you over the chair. Desire coils and pools where you want him most. Your hands grasp at the bottom edge of the side windscreen.

Thank the Maker Din landed on the outskirts.

Din shoves your pants down your thighs, grunting airily as he does so. One of his rough hands comes around to grope at your breast, lazily rubbing at your peaking nipple. Moderating his strength, his boot kicks your foot to the side, allowing him to fit closer.

You can hear the rustling of his flight suit, and you clench in anticipation. A rush of wetness dampens your thighs when he thrusts his velvet length against your folds. Encouraged by your arousal, he continues.

“You wanted this,” he gruffly warns not a second before he draws back and spears his cock inside you. 

From the outside of the Razor Crest, if someone stumbled past in the vast landscape, they would see your mouth agape, your body jolting, and the Mandalorian fisting your hair. They would see him slip a hand around your throat, thrusting you back onto him. 

But they wouldn't hear the rhythmic slapping, the duet of pleased and desperate sounds from two drunk voices.

Your mind is numb with the plunging feeling of the Mandalorian splitting you in two. Something heavy and metallic falls to the floor, rolling away. Then Din's scruff scrapes against your spine as he hunches over you, wantonly biting and sucking at your shoulder. 

His pace is intense, and if you close your eyes, hyperspace is passing through your eyelids. He grunts as you clench down on him, legs shaking. Your knees knock into the edge of the chair with each thrust. Filthy are the squelching sounds that your joining bodies make. 

"D'you still-" he groans when you arch, allowing him deeper. "You still want punishment?" 

It's not a real question. He was never going to deny you pleasure. This is as close as he can get to hurting you.

Din slips a hand between your legs, his fingers performing your favorite melody. You throw your head back, body locking as your orgasm builds. When the pressure shatters into bliss, your moans, your fluttering around him has Din fighting his own peak.

Arm barring your chest, his other hand cups your throat and his unveiled cheek presses against yours. You slam your eyes shut, wanting to experience every bit of his touch and ignore the temptation to look at him.

"Damn, you’re squeezing me s-" he mutters, but his words end in several rough groans as his cock pulses violently. 

Cheek to cheek, his lips hang open right next to yours. He pants, his cold chestplate stinging your back, as he releases himself. Din relishes the way you whimper in tandem with each of his spurts inside you.

He drops his forehead to your shoulder and brushes his lips along the bruised skin he finds there. The two of you stay motionless for a moment, basking in it. It’s one of the best experiences you’ve yet had with him, and you’re unsurprised he came so quickly considering you did as well.

Din allows his hands to linger - he skims your chest, your sides, then gently cups your ass as he pulls himself from you. The Mandalorian's sweet, unmoderated voice cuts the silent cockpit.

"Turn around.” 

Though he is uncovered, his request tells you that he's not intending on asking you anything, so you face him, eyes shut.

His soft lips pry yours open. He kisses you with sensual tenderness, as though he wasn't just ramming you against a window. His wide tongue slowly drags through your mouth, over and over, upending your sense of direction. Din's hands cradle your jaw, thumbs sliding over your cheeks. 

Tears spring up behind your eyes at his care. You drift toward him, craving his steadiness. When your naked chest touches his beskar, you shiver.

"Sorry," he remembers your state. 

Din lets you go and you wiggle your bottoms back up, head down. The Mandalorian crouches and picks up his helmet, replacing it. 

"You did well today. I am proud of you," Din's modulator lets you know you can open your eyes. “Do not argue with me.” 

He drops into the pilot's seat and finishes getting the Razor Crest ready.

You laugh, biting your lip. “No point,” you tease. “It’s only another thing I wouldn’t win.” 

The Mandalorian’s head swivels to you, and after a pause, he deadpans, “You didn’t learn much just now, did you?” 

You smirk at him. “You’ll have to explain it again.” 

***

The Crest drifts past an exploded star. Long had it burnt out, no cause for current concern. Din Djarin simply wanted you to see it. The gas and debris that hang in spacetime manifest in purples, blues, greens, and yellows. It’s incredible - unlike anything you’ve ever seen. Sitting in your usual chair, your lips are parted slightly in awe as you take it in.

The Mandalorian has seen it before, so he watches you instead. Something heavy presses on his chest, and he can’t quite put name to it. He feels as though he weighs as much as the karking ship he pilots. 

You make a comment to which he doesn’t respond, so you tear your eyes from the view outside to the view inside. He’s facing you, his shoulders hunched. 

“Din, what’s wrong?” You immediately push out of your chair and reach for him. 

Caressing his helmet, you frown, knowing something is brewing underneath. Sometimes, you hate that helmet. Though you know it as Din, and therefore love it for that reason, the human connection that it cuts him off from saddens you.

“Nothing is wrong,” he flatly asserts, though he’s trying to convince himself more than you.

You touch your forehead to his and he inhales sharply. You take his hands - blessedly ungloved - and settle them on your waist. 

“You miss the kid,” you state gently.

Din does not allow the stinging in his eyes to become tears. He grits his teeth, then opens his mouth to allow a pained sigh to escape. Din finally identifies the weight pressing on his chest. It’s a void. You and Grogu make up his heart, and with either of you missing, the emptiness makes itself known.

“Could we not go see him?” You murmur, drawing back to look at the Mandalorian.

You smile at the thought of Grogu’s excited coos, the way his ears would perk up at Din’s voice. 

The Mandalorian sits back in his chair, renewed by hope, “You're right. We should find him. Make sure the kid’s alright.”

_______________________________

Din Djarin found the location of the Jedi's training facility easily. All it took was tracking down an old Republic archive worker, bribing them to provide Grogu's implanted beacon code, and then finding a device capable of tracking such an outdated string of symbols. 

It took the Mandalorian less than two days. 

The new problem was that the Razor Crest suffered a hull puncture during an unforeseen meteor shower. Frustration and impatience line his back and bow his shoulders as he lands the Crest on the nearest populated planet. Repairs would take at least a day, and that was a day that could've been spent getting to the kid.

"This planet is in the same system as Charal. Where you dishonestly obtained a room for us."

You laugh, "I remember that planet for an entirely different reason."

The T-shaped, black slit turns to observe you. 

You oblige him with an explanation, "It was the first time you touched me." 

But Din was already smirking underneath his helmet.

"I remember."

***

Walking alongside and slightly behind the Mandalorian, you hide your grin at the way he parts a crowd. You watch as people eye him as a danger, and others eye him as an object of interest. For all his social isolation, he drew attention like a tractor beam with that swaggering confidence and gleaming beskar. 

And he was all yours. 

You wait a few steps away while Din trades credits for some type of food you’re unfamiliar with. The Twi’lek vendor actually bats her eyes at the Mandalorian. When he drops the credits in her hand, she stumbles over her words when his glove contacts her skin. From a distance, you grimace - whether in embarrassment for her or irritation on your part, you’re uncertain.

Seemingly oblivious to the Twi’lek’s distress, Din wordlessly rejoins you, touching your elbow to indicate his presence. It wasn't that he didn't notice the attention, it was that he didn't care. Though you never doubted the man raised on devotion and respect, it was a balm to your disquiet soul that you could trust him in every way imaginable. 

A few minutes later, he abruptly swivels his head to you, “I have something I need to do. I’ll find you.” 

The fingers on Din’s right hand twitch as though he wants to touch you, but something tells him not to. The Mandalorian could never be certain whose eyes were watching. Instead, he bows his helmet solemnly at you, and disappears down a narrow alley. 

Din had mentioned a task earlier, so his departure was expected; but now you had to face the thronging marketplace by yourself. The last time you were alone amongst a crowd, you were running for your life from a frothing bounty hunter on Niamos. 

While Din had bought food for the two of you, your goal is to get the little womp rat something. So, you straighten your shoulders and stroll down the busy venue. 

Your attention is fully focused on sorting through the unreadable languages, garish banners, and hot smells to find something that Grogu might like when the hair on the back of your neck rises. Swearing you felt a puff of air on your skin, you furtively search, but the milling crowd gives nothing away.

So many eyes and yet none of them seem to be looking at you. Continuing past several chrono traders, you slink down a peaceful side street. It’s shaded from the pinkish sun by balconies and overhangings. 

Forcing yourself to relax, you lean against the smooth, exterior metal wall and close your eyes. You let your mind wander back out into the mass of lifeforms, wondering who had gotten close enough to feel their breath. You try to absorb any shred of detail you can hear or remember.

Your eyes snap open when you realize, with a self-conscious scoff, that you’re imitating the way Grogu reaches out with his mind. But something is wrong. Something is coming. Angling your body to peek around the corner, your eyes frantically search the crowd.

Where is Din?

Before you can finish worrying about the Mandalorian, a hand slaps across your mouth, effectively silencing your startled yelp. Then another hand, cold, immutable metal, manages to snag both of your hands behind you. Thrashing, you jerk your head around, vainly hoping Din decided to play a cruel joke. Instead, a female cyborg grins maliciously down at you. 

You allow her to drag you away from the mass of innocent people, fighting convincingly the entire way. She smells like unwashed armpits and oil. It’s foul and you fight a gag as her arm winches your throat.

Once out of sight of innocent bystanders, you suddenly drop all of your body weight to your knees, and she toddles off-balance. Thrusting your shoulders forward, you throw her over you. She lands with a guh! as the wind is knocked from her. 

Able to assess the threat now, you take stock of her cybernetic left arm, waist, and left leg. Her right arm, right leg, chest, and most of her face are still flesh. The cyborg snarls at you and rolls to her hands and knees, preparing to spring at you, when you draw your blaster and fire from your hip. A move Din made you practice daily.

A pathetic, horrible sound issues from the woman as the blaster bolt burns through her right eye and she falls to the ground, smoking. 

***

As he struts back through the town, the Mandalorian weighs the small package in his hand with contentment. Though you had loved that beskar spear, the Armorer was right: it was far too dangerous a weapon, and it could serve a greater purpose. 

Din is thrilled with his deception. There hadn’t been any damages to the Razor Crest - well, not any that couldn’t wait a little while. Din simply needed a reason to land on this planet and find his Covert without you asking him a thousand questions. 

Now, his task is complete. Grogu will have something to keep him safe and remember Din by, and you’ll have… the Mandalorian’s smirk falters a little when his thoughts consider your reaction to what he had made for you. He rarely second guesses himself, if ever. But this is territory he never considered.

All at once, he notices that people seem nervous for a reason other than him; he can hear the hushed whispers between friends. Din’s keen ears latch on to the word ‘abducted.’ His heart rate kicks up.

He tucks the small package of gifts into the pocket behind his belt, and lengthens his stride. The Mandalorian flicks on his heat sensors, but there’s too many warm-blooded species swirling about, and he growls as he flicks it back off. 

To Din’s left, two booths set up to sell chronos are quickly packing their wares away; they look considerably more afraid than the rest of the crowd.

“What happened here?” Din demands of the closest shopkeeper, a Trandoshan. 

The chrono seller winces as a Mandalorian stalks toward him, and rapidly answers: “A girl was abducted. Right there -” he jerks his hand to the side, pointing at the alleyway next to his booth. 

“What did you see?” Din isn’t threatening the Trandoshan, but his quiet, forceful voice certainly sounds like it.

“I- I don’t want to get too inv-”

Din’s body language shifts ever so slightly. He cocks his head; and that’s all the Trandoshan needs to restart his sentence.

“Human girl. She was being dragged off by a karking cyborg. It was terrifying; I tried to help her but the thing was too big,” the giant lizard’s words flow so fast, they blur as though he took a shot of spotchka before answering.

Din lurches past the vendor before he finishes his second sentence. Though the Mandalorian has no proof you are the girl in question, the knot in his gut and the hollowness in his chest tell him all he needs to know. 

Heat sensors back on his viewscreen, Din follows the yellowing, fading trail. The tunnel-like road is utterly quiet; it’s clear it’s a residential street, but there isn’t a soul to be seen. 

The trail ends in an expansive lot. It’s a confusing tangle of heat signatures in the dust, and Din can’t make out exactly what happened. He switches the sensor off again and crouches to examine the footprints himself.

Someone had been dragged. Din looks up and to his right. A small ship idles on the far edge of the field. Scanning the ship, he identifies two lifeforms - at least one is female. The Mandalorian's footsteps are quick and quiet as he approaches the small-scale freighter. The boarding ramp is down, so he slips on board. 

At the far end of the cargo hold, in a pile of cargo hauling material, lies a female body. Din knows without further examination that it is not yours. Over the past year, Din Djarin had memorized every facet of you; he committed you to memory like each entry was a precious artifact. And this body is decidedly not yours. 

Din switches his heat sensor back on to look for the other lifeform, but a brutal blow to his ribs sends him on his side. Din scrambles to his feet and is shocked to be staring into the face of Con Macta. 

“Come to settle a score?” 

The Mandalorian goes to draw his blaster, but, from behind him, the arms of the female cyborg cinch around his neck, tightening rapidly. Too quickly for Din to react, Con Macta stabs through Din's flight suit and into his bicep with a syringe. Unconsciousness steals the Mandalorian.

***

The cockpit of the Razor Crest is cold, silent. 

Cara Dune’s blue face greets you with a grimace. 

“It’s good to see you, but not like this. I sent his chain code to the Razor Crest. And, hey,” she frowns. “I can be there in less than a cycle.” 

“In that time, I’ll have found him,” you insist. “Thank you for searching the Republic database." 

"Anything for you two,” she smiles grimly and the visage fades. 

You spin away from the fading hologram and begin powering up the Razor Crest's navicomputer. The hologram of the star system flickers to life in front of you. Two planets fill your vision, and on the planet adjacent to your current position, a small yellow dot blips. 

Slightly taken aback that Din is no longer on the same planet, you recover quickly. It doesn't take much for you to add up all the evidence. A cyborg attacked you and now Din is on Charal.

You bring up the entry log from that cyborg job a year ago. The data screen reads in Aurebesh: 

Con Macta - Stormtrooper, 607th Battalion - Missing/Killed in Action 1 ABY. 

You frown. Either the database had missed an important detail, or the female cyborg was on a revenge mission. Chewing on your lower lip, you’re finally thankful Din taught you how to fly.

***

Brought to wakefulness by searing voltage in his veins, Din's jaw muscles are forced taut by the current, preventing his pained groan from escaping. His entire body tenses painfully.

Laughing cruelly, Con Macta cuts off the switch on the dirty, steel wall. 

"Good afternoon, bounty hunter. Really didn’t think you’d be so easy to capture. I didn't even have to go looking for you. You thought your apprentice was on my ship, didn't you? Very touching, your affection for her." 

Din doesn’t reply, too busy catching his breath.

“I sent my own lady friend to snatch her up, but your rather wily apprentice almost killed her. Say hello, Venita.”

Venita saunters toward the containment field Din is suspended in and taunts, “Hello, Mandalorian. You really were a disappointment compared to your friend.” 

“You know, we never did find your real name. We found your apprentice’s, but yours seems to be kept in a secure section of Imperial files. Very interesting. And in that case, don’t worry about dying here. You’ll be going to meet them next. They pay top dollar for their bounties.”

The Mandalorian does not speak. Hanging as he was inside this energy field, there was little he could do. Whatever he’d been injected with still held him in a dazed consciousness. 

“You were all bravado when last I saw you, Mandalorian. What’s changed?” Macta goads. He flips the electricity on for a second, then cuts it again. “You don’t like this? This is what you forced me back to. My maker created me here, in this filthy lab, against my will. Poor stormtroopers. We’re all pulse-cannon fodder or failed experiments.”

Din once again does not reply. Nothing he could say would change the outcome, and he damn sure wasn’t going to give Con Macta any sense of satisfaction.

The cyborg huffs. “You’re far more boring than the last time we met. I guess I’ll have to find your apprentice. That will make you lively.” 

The Mandalorian forces every ounce of will he has into not reacting to that statement, but his sudden rigidity gives him away.

“I can find her, Con. Let me have another go,” Venita begs in a hiss.

The cyborg takes his demented friend by the arm, leading her out of the room. 

Din can just make out his answer: “We’ll both go. If she’d blasted your real eye, you’d be dead.” 

The Mandalorian growls with frustration. It’s essentially useless to struggle. Containment fields are made of pure energy. The control panel with the large, white power switch sits unhelpfully across the mid-size, gray room. 

The cyborg had yet to remove Din’s helmet, thank the Mythosaur; but Din is unable to reach the vision-changing settings, so when a small, dark shadow creeps in from the steel doorway, the Mandalorian squints to hurry its focus. The light from the containment field blinds him to much of what occurs outside its glow.

The shadow moves to the control panel, and Din loosens his muscles in preparation. Tensing would only make the spasming more painful. To his great shock, the blue energy field suspending him disappears and he falls to the ground with a clang. 

Groaning, still groggy and in pain, he unsteadily rises to his feet. They must’ve accidentally released him and now he had to fight. But as he continues to squint, a soft, anguished voice comes from the direction of the control panel.

“Din! Dammit, what did they do to you?” 

You hurry to him, sliding your shoulder underneath his to stand him up fully. 

“I’m alright. Injected me with something,” he shakes his head, trying to clear the cobwebs from his mind. The two of you move toward the exit. “How did you find me?” 

“I ran to the Razor Crest right after I was attacked. I had a bad feeling, so I holocalled Cara to give me your chain code. Can’t have been much more than half an hour behind you.” 

Underneath his helmet, Din’s eyebrows shoot upward. “You were smarter than I was,” he chuckles. 

“I was terrified,” you whisper.

His arm clutches you to his side and he rubs his thumb across your hip soothingly. 

Din releases you to retrieve his blaster from its place on a table. They hadn’t removed any of his other weapons; he supposes they didn’t deem it necessary. He feels a little insulted. 

Suddenly remembering, Din jerks his hand to the place he’d held yours and Grogu’s gifts. Empty. He growls under his breath. 

You peek around the open doorway out into the hall. Your options are left or right. Following the same way you came in, you go right. 

“Those two droids,” he says it like the slur it is to him, “went this way. Stay alert.”

Two blasters are pointed down the dark hallway as you and Din skirt the circular building. It was shaped like a moisture silo - round and high. You’d set the Razor Crest down a click to the west. All you needed to do was find the busted ventilation grate you’d entered through and sprint to the ship. 

In the poor light, you can’t see the object flying at you. A weight slams into your stomach, and you crumple to the floor. Unable to catch your breath, you try to duck out of the way when the gleam of a metal arm comes at your face. It stops mid-air with a dull sound, and you focus your eyes to see that the cyborg’s fist has been caught by Din’s hand. 

The mechanical woman rips her arm from his grip right as he tries to grab a better hold. She disappears into the darkness. You fire your blaster in her direction and the instantaneous red beams of light creepily illuminate the hallway. It’s too brief to confirm, but at the apex of the curve, two figures seem to be lurking. 

The Mandalorian is a protector; dividing his attention between you and the threat is as easy as breathing. He flips on his dark-vision, and with his other hand, he gently helps you stand. Slowly, you get to your feet, clutching your ribs.

“You okay?” His voice is clipped, worried and angry.

“Yes,” you groan. 

His world lights up a sickly green. The two antagonists are at the apex of the curve, believing themselves to be hidden and waiting in ambush. 

“For an ex-stormtrooper, he is extraordinarily unskilled in tactical matters,” Din whispers drily. 

The pain in your torso spasms when you snort a laugh under your breath. “Can we make it out alive before you start imparting your wisdom, O God of War?” 

The Mandalorian’s hand splays across your lower back in familiar affection. He keeps his eyes trained on the two cyborgs as they crouch in wait. 

“They’re setting a trap for us.”

“What do we do?”

“Walk into it."

“Are you still feeling that drug in your system?”

“Yes. Start firing when I do.”

Advancing on the hidden threat, you keep your blaster at shoulder’s height, waiting for Din’s cue. Blood red light casts the hallway into faint relief as the Mandalorian’s blaster repeatedly fires. Your blaster joins his, and the two of you continue approaching the now-dodging cyborgs. 

The female launches at you again, apparently very upset about her missing cybernetic eye. This time, with Din’s dark-vision, he sees it coming. The Mandalorian bumps into your blaster, preventing you from shooting him in the back, as he lunges in front of you. He catches the woman mid-air and brutally throws her to the ground. 

You poke out from behind him and fire another blast at the oncoming Con Macta. His yell changes in pitch when your shot burns through his left thigh. Limping, his charge is slowed considerably. 

In the split second you take to shoot at Con, the Mandalorian is kicked in the back by Venita. As she gets to her feet, Din twists and fires at her. His blast does not go through either eye, but through the center of her forehead. 

Con Macta’s roar echoes throughout the building. The mechanical mixes with whatever’s left of his humanity to form an utterly hair-raising lament. 

“Mandalorian, you’ll watch yours die for that.” 

The cyborg steps underneath an exterior grate, and in the faint, purplish light, you can see that he had undergone further modification after the Mandalorian had taken out his bounty. Before, his entire head was flesh, now only his eyes and mouth remain uncovered. His cheeks and forehead are plated in a tan, utilitarian metal. His thin upper lip snarls. 

“I also have this.” The cyborg pulls a fist-sized red and white bundle from a pouch on his hip. 

Din tenses beside you. 

“Let’s see what’s inside. I hadn’t gotten around to examining my spoils yet, but I’m curious what a minimalist Mandalorian could be carrying so dearly.” 

As the cyborg looks down to untie the material, the Mandalorian raises his weapon and pulls the trigger. Con Macta stumbles as the bolt hits him in the arm. The package drops to the steel floor with a muffled clink. 

He roars again, charging at the two of you. He dodges the Mandalorian’s blasts until finally he leaps, knocking Din to the ground. Unwilling to accidentally shoot Din, you try to get an angle on the twisting cyborg. Deciding that was no good, you finally just kick Macta’s partially-human head. 

The tortured, destroyed ex-stormtrooper cries out and wobbles to the side, giving the Mandalorian an opportunity. Still pinned, Din thwacks his right leg on the ground, firing a knee rocket directly into the cybernetic back of Con Macta.

Following the ear-splitting explosion, the cyborg delivers a groaning death rattle, and slowly collapses to the ground with a resounding crash. 

The Mandalorian hefts to his feet, and quickly walks to the small bundle lying on the dirty floor. He brushes it off absentmindedly, and turns to you. 

"You still okay?" 

Nodding, you move toward him. He holds out his hand, palm down, and jerks his head toward the exit.

__________________________________

Grogu sits on a yellow stone. His eyes are closed and his breathing is audibly shallow. His mind is focused on the incoming ship. The Jedi across from him can feel it, too. 

Luke Skywalker frowns with acceptance. The child had made its choice. 

***

“You’re very quiet,” you observe, hoping Din will tell you his mindset.

He doesn’t. The Mandalorian continues performing the landing cycle with rote movement, jostling slightly as the landing gear settles onto the gravel below.

“I can’t wait to see him,” you smile, peering out the glass, hoping for a glimpse of the kid. “His little face -” 

“I know.” 

You press your lips together in a knowledgeable smile. Din is anxious. 

***

The boarding ramp lowers, and you bounce once or twice on the balls of your feet. Beside you, Din is composed except for the fingers on his right hand. As the two of you strut down the ramp, a figure in form-fitting black materializes from the treeline. 

“Hello. I was expecting you sooner, actually.” Luke smiles. “You really do care for the child to have denied yourself for so long.” 

The tall grass sways for a second before Grogu flips out and onto the gravel path. 

“Patu!” The child begins waddling toward the Mandalorian.

Din strides forward and crouches to one knee, taking the kid into his hands. 

“Hey, buddy. I missed you, too.” 

Tears threaten to fall from your eyes at the blatant love in Din’s voice. Grogu reaches for the Mandalorian’s helmet, but Din does not remove it this time. He half-turns, and Grogu’s attention shifts. His childish hand raises at you, cooing. 

Nearly jogging to them, you allow three stubby fingers to grasp your thumb. Pressing a kiss to his wrinkly head, you murmur an affectionate greeting. Grogu begins to purr.

“Is he happy here? Is his training going well?” Din asks the Jedi. 

“Happy enough. But he is distracted. I believe Grogu has made his decision.” 

Your brow furrows, “What decision?” 

“Grogu has learned all he will from me. I know his feelings, sense his thoughts. They remain with his father. A life dedicated to the Jedi Order is not his path.” 

“You’re saying that you won’t train him anymore?” You clarify, shocked.

“Grogu has seen both of his choices and made his decision. That decision is to return to you.” 

Though you can’t see his face, your eyes turn up to the Mandalorian anyway. Your imagination serves you well enough. His eyes are surely glassy, and a soft, disbelieving smile is certainly spreading across his face. 

Luke bows slightly, and turns away, walking down the path with his hands folded behind his back. In the distance, a stone hut is being built by spidery droids. You watch him go for a moment in curiosity before returning your attention to the two in front of you. 

Din’s helmet tips down to look at the child. “You’re coming with us?” The hope in his voice confirms your picture of his expression. 

Still aggressively purring, Grogu burrows down into the crook of Din’s arm. 

The T-shaped slit tilts up to you, and you wish you had the ability to freeze the image. The Mandalorian contentedly holding his green child, looking at you with what you're sure is pure happiness.

"Let's go, then," you grin. 

_________________________

Deciding that a reunion could be better savored while resting on a peaceful planet, the Mandalorian lands the Razor Crest. Gentle hills of sand roll in every direction, and, once outside the ship, the sound of ebbing water can be heard.

"This is Illen. The entire surface is made of small islands. The waterline is on the other side of that dune," Din points his chin upward. 

"Is it late in the day's cycle?" You wonder, referring to the soft, golden light that illuminates the planet.

"The sun does not set here." 

You raise your eyebrows in appreciation, "It's beautiful." 

Din kneels, laughing under his breath at Grogu's immediate fascination with the sand. 

"Kid, I have something for you." 

Grogu's ears flop slightly when he looks all the way up at Din. He tilts his head in curiosity. 

The Mandalorian unwraps the little bundle he'd carried with him and pulls out a child-sized chainmail shift. 

"This is yours by right, Grogu. You are a Mandalorian foundling, and part of this clan." 

The child seems to understand the gift he's being given. His eyes look upon his father with adoration, and his hand touches the beskar chainmail with respect. 

***

Several hours later, Grogu begins to slow his excitement. His tiny mouth opens wide showing a range of even tinier teeth as he yawns. 

Grogu plops down in the sand, grabbing fistfuls and letting it trickle through his fingers. Miniature crustaceans with towering, swirly shells scuttle by, fascinating the kid as he slowly starts to drift to sleep. 

"He'll be busy for a while," the Mandalorian nods his head toward the ridgeline. 

Traipsing through the soft, sifting sand makes your journey to the top of the dune longer than usual, but when you join Din at the top, your breath catches. 

"Woah," you blink, ensuring your eyes aren't lying to you. 

Gentle waves lap at the silky white sand. The ocean is a vibrant blue, contrasting beautifully with the golden tint of the sky. Purple and yellow clouds dot the horizon. The burning sun casts yours and Din's shadows far behind you. 

Din gallantly holds your hand as the two of you trudge down the dune, stopping several paces from the water. 

"I have something for you, too."

Tearing yourself away from the natural world, you turn to look at your own. 

"What?" 

Din's thumb and forefinger dig into his pocket, and he fishes out a metal pin shaped like a Mudhorn. 

"You are also part of this clan, if you so wish. This does not bind you in any way, however," he assures. 

You smile warmly and raise your palm for him to drop the pin onto. It's even lighter than it looks. 

"Being bound to this clan is all I want," you shake your head and pin the object to your shirt. Your cheek twitches up into a lopsided smile at him. 

The Mandalorian simply stares at you for a breath, enjoying the moment.

Reluctantly, he starts to speak. “While I am reminded of it: I did have something I wanted to teach you,” he unhooks his real binders from behind him. "You are going to learn how to get out of these.” 

Your shoulders fall and your face is unmistakably wary. “Seriously? Can’t we have a single day without some type of exercise?”

Real binders represent a litany of bad memories. If you can avoid this, you will.

"No. And don't be afraid. You trust me." 

He says it as though it's a fact. And you realize that it is. The bond of trust between the two of you hasn't been up for debate in a very long time. He has your best interest at heart. Always.

The Mandalorian clasps the thick metal around his own wrists, and to your immense shock, a shadow in your mind whispers something excitingly foul. 

“When you’re…” Din’s words trail off when he notices something. The blank face of the beskar helmet tilts. “Your heart is racing.”

"It's not," you lie.

"I’ll get you out if you’re unable to break them. You need to learn how to do this." 

Din worries that your past might be causing you to fear. It was, but a more insidious idea has taken root.

"No, I know. I believe you."

Din's shoulders tense, his bound hands folded in front of him. "Then why is your heat signature rising?" 

The breeze from the sea is cool, and the sun is at a perfect place in the sky to allow for a comfortable amount of warmth. Trying to understand, the Mandalorian watches as your cheeks flush, and it finally strikes him that you're embarrassed.

"This -" he pauses, truth dawning on him. "You like this, don't you?" He raises his hands.

You bite the inside of your cheek and look at the shifting ground beneath your feet. 

"I'm sorry. I don't know why." 

Din considers that for a moment. It wasn't hard to understand. A lifetime of servitude and bondage, you might enjoy being on the other side of it. 

The Mandalorian shifts his body, his knee cocking. “If you win today, I'll see what I can do." 

Your eyes widen, nerves sparking already at his voice. Then you frown. 

"But I never win," you retort. 

Din shrugs his shoulders. 

You take a deep breath and roll your eyes, "Alright, well. Show me how." 

The Mandalorian twists one of his hands, working against one of the hinges. One edge of the hinge springs up. Then, Din raises his hands above his head and jerks them down and apart with all his strength, popping the hinge. One cuff remains, but his hands are no longer constrained together.

You raise your eyebrows, impressed. 

"These are a low-grade set. You won't be able to break free of the high-end binders; unless you pick their lock," he explains. "But I want you to know how to do this." 

Din resets the hinge, and holds out his hand for you to take them. As your fingers close around the binders, however, the Mandalorian sweeps your leg out from underneath you. 

Instinct takes over, and, though you're laughing at the change in plan, you duck into a recovering move to the side, giving yourself space from him. 

He nods at you, and the fight is on. Binders still in your hand, you feint to his left. Din actually reacts, so you take advantage and charge his right. 

You land a blow to his side, then grab his arm and try to set him off-balance. From the modulator, you hear him breathily laugh at your pathetic effort. He crouches and whirls you off him, sending you down onto the sand. 

Scrambling onto your feet, you're laughing too hard to focus. Even without a weapon, his strength was such a formidable opponent that you'd never win. 

"You can do better.”

"I can't," you snort. "Din, you're as broad as an X-wing." 

He gestures like So what?

"Try again," he demands, folding his hands cockily. 

Huffing, you narrow your eyes, looking for some kind of misstep. But he's just standing there - unimpressed as a karking Republic officer. Eventually, you decide on trickery; that seemed to work before. 

Feinting again, Din expects you to go to the opposite side like you did last time, so he twists a little to that direction. But then you continue through on your "feinted" movement, launching at him. You come at him from below this time, grabbing and pushing at his waist, and as he bends, your leg swipes out his knee. 

He grunts, rotating and falling onto his back, and you go down with him, arms still around his waist. 

Din takes the opportunity, while your ankle is awkwardly underneath his knee, to wrestle on top of you. He's chuckling under his breath, clearly enjoying this. 

As Din supports himself above you, you knock your elbow into the crook of his arm, causing it to give out and his body to drop to one side. He grips your waist as you roll and force him onto his back once more. A click resounds between you.

"Stop doing that," he growls at your cheap shots on his joints.

As you straddle him, he hears a second click. 

The Mandalorian looks down now at his hands where they lie against your stomach. Binders lock his wrists in place. The black slit on his helmet considers you with a sigh. 

"Well done,” his modulator conveys his flat, raspy tone. “I concede." 

Your eyebrows draw together, mouth agape, and you place your hands on his breastplate for stability. 

"You can't concede a fight you lost." 

"I just showed you I can break out of these, did I not?" 

"That doesn't negate my win." 

Din huffs dramatically. The motion tenses his abs underneath you. Once again, you’re tempted by the way he looks right now, bound and pinned underneath you. Heat begins to pool where you sit astride him. 

Suddenly, the Mandalorian lurches upward, looping his bound arms over your head and around your waist. He shifts on the sand until he's sitting up with you in his lap, your legs still sprawled around his waist.

"Can you take this off for me?" His gravelly voice asks. "My hands seem to be tied up."

There comes a lurch in your stomach that has very little to do with your position around him.

"The helmet?" You whisper.

"Yes, the helmet." 

"Din, are you sure? Shouldn’t you -”

“I think it is fitting. You won and I’ve already made my decision. You make yours.” 

Reverently, you place your hands on either side of his beskar face. Your fingers curl around the concave shapes that resemble cheek bones. A third Death Star could splash down into the ocean and you'd only know when the tsunami engulfed you. The weight of the moment is almost too much to bear. 

The sharp edge of the helmet crests the top of his head and short, wavy, brown locks fall away from the interior. You set the helmet down beside him, and, with the gravitational pull he has on you, you can’t stop yourself from touching his face.

His face.

Huge, sensitive brown eyes look up at you, reading your reaction. His full lips pout in a way that forces you to stutter over them several times in your exploration. You’re surprised at how easy he is to read, and for a moment you believe it’s because of how well you know him, and that is much of it. But then you understand. A life behind a mask meant that he never learned to hide his expressions. 

You press a gentle kiss to his angular nose; to the patch of missing hair on his jaw, oddly shaped like a heart; and finally to those unfair lips. Your hands cradle his jaw as you press your kisses, and he sighs underneath your touch. 

The Mandalorian is beautiful underneath beskar and bone. 

This is the first time Din has seen you without his helmet, and the weight of his gaze as it travels across your face, down your throat, and back up to your lips sets your already-taut nerves ablaze. The knot in your stomach has yet to loosen; instead, Din only twists it tighter. 

Taking a liberty, you peck him on the lips shyly, drawing back almost immediately. The corner of his mouth turns upward ever so slightly and his hooded eyes pin you with a look full of deep admiration.

When you pull back, your eyes open to the true intimacy of the moment. The Mandalorian could not show you any more blatantly that he cares, that he’s yours. Bound and unhelmed under you, Din is still in control. At any moment he could break his bonds, but he chooses not to. You take a shaky breath, then surge into him again. This time, however, your lips slot between his with heated fervor. 

He groans into your mouth, crushing you to him. Din reclines a few degrees onto the sand dune behind, allowing you a better position on him. Your sounds become more desperate, and Din breaks the kiss.

“Take this off,” he indicates his chestplate. 

His eyes are hooded and completely on board with this new dynamic, so you comply. You bite your lip, trying not to ogle, as you carefully divest the Mandalorian of his armor. The illusion of control was yours, but he always held the power. Him choosing not to use it makes your blood boil. 

When his armor is lovingly placed to the side, abandoned in the daylight, you run your hands up his chest over his flight suit. Without waiting for instruction, you unfasten it. Quietly he watches you, his arms still around your hips, and his breathing grows shallow. 

You pull open his flight suit and duck to press open mouth kisses along his chest. Sparse, dark hairs curl in the center, tickling your cheeks and lips as you move.

Din groans through his nose, his eyes closing above you. At the apex of your thighs, his length twitches and thickens. You kiss along his collarbone, encouraged by his faint sounds, then suck a biting kiss on his tense neck. 

A wrecked groan rips from his mouth, and his hands press into your back, egging you on. Your hips buck of their own free will as his arousal becomes hot and hard between you. His eyes roll closed when you drag along him just right, and the sight of his pleased face soaks your underwear. 

“You going to run the whole show?” He murmurs. “Or would you like me to -”

Before he’s finished speaking, you retrieve the thin key for his binders, unlocking them. Pulling off his gloves and tossing the binders into the sand, he immediately skates his hands underneath your shirt, tugging it off you. When Din tosses it away, his eyes shamelessly follow his hands as they explore.

He suddenly sits forward, his arms cradling your back, and he sweeps you underneath him. His knee spreads your legs, so it’s really his own fault when your drenched, needy core rides his thigh. Looking directly into the Mandalorian’s soft eyes, you whimper; his eyes darken further, and he roughly shuffles your pants down. 

Your hands fumble with the rest of his flight suit, but he shrugs out of the sleeves, tying them around his waist. He opens the codpiece area and your eyes widen. It’s not the first time you’ve had sex with him in the daylight, but those times had always been from behind. Din’s hands are already large, and yet his cock makes them look smaller. The memory of it inside you is enough to make you arch into him.

Your arms reach for his neck, and he bows over you, tenderly kissing between your breasts. He makes his way to your throat before he returns the favor, sucking a bruise into the crook of your neck. Din’s heavy erection settles against your thigh, and it throbs when you moan.

“Stop teasing,” you beg breathlessly. 

“I’m not teasing. I am enjoying this,” Din says honestly. 

“I really need you,” you take his face in your hands, pulling him into a desperate kiss. 

The Mandalorian takes the hint. He groans; his hands grip your waist, pinning you into the sand. One hand abandons its post to drag his length through your folds, coating himself in your arousal. Brown eyes bore into yours as he lines up and, with a rough sigh, nestles the head of his cock inside you. The Mandalorian breaks eye contact to look down and grab the underside of your knee. He throws your leg up over his waist, maintaining his hold, and inch-by-inch, buries himself in your tight heat. 

Watching him enter you has you teetering on the edge of an early orgasm. His eyebrows draw together and his full lips part slightly. His chin tips upward with pride when you cry yes, and his heavily-lidded eyes blaze with lust. 

Adjusting to his size is simple when he’s driven you to the point of an orgasm just from insertion. You wait for him to move, but he doesn’t. Instead, he kisses you without agenda. You relax into him, letting him lead. He said he was enjoying this, and the more you touch him, the more you agree. 

Curling your hands in his dark brown waves, you drift with the roll of his tongue and his lips. His slow sensuality seems to turn him on even more. You whine each time the Mandalorian throbs inside your body, and each time it sets your heart racing. 

Eventually, when your body shakes with anticipation and sheer want, he has mercy on you. His hand leaves your knee, sliding down your thigh and between your two bodies. His thumb rubs smooth circles over your sensitive bud and you tighten around him immediately. 

Whining, muscles stiffening, you lean away from his lips just to breathe, when his low, crisp voice asks earnestly, “Will you come on me like this?” 

It’s the missing piece. It whips through you like a wildfire, and you bear down on his cock. He groans in his throat, enraptured, as you shake beneath him. Din takes advantage of the moment, surging forward to claim your lips. 

Din drags his length out along your walls, loving your overstimulated expressions. Then, he reseats himself in a single motion, sending your body forward in the sand. You cry out, begging him for more.

The Mandalorian thrusts into you, replacing his hand around your knee and using it as leverage to please you deeper. His muscular arm settles near your face for balance. Burying you in the sand, his warm body pressing into you from above and inside, the feeling of bliss sinks into your very marrow. 

Grunting, his lips lose their steady rhythm on your mouth, insteading hanging above you. Sweat shines on his forehead, his brown hair curls in the same place, and he looks at you with such admiration that you can’t stop yourself from cupping his face between your hands, kissing and worshiping every part of him you can reach. 

Your second orgasm sneaks up on you. Din loops an arm around your back, pulling your chest flush with his while he works himself into you, grunting as his aching member begins to empty itself. The coase hairs between you tangle, acting as friction. The thrusting of his body nudges your clit, and the powerful shuddering of his cock in your overstimulated channel forces you right over the cliff. 

Shaking in his arms, he rides it out with you, breathing rapidly into one another. Sand sticks to the both of you where you’ve perspired. Din leans his forehead against yours, whispering his affection. He kisses your nose, then carefully removes himself from your body. 

You lie there for a moment, basking in it all. 

“I’m too dirty to put my clothes back on,” you laugh. 

“I am, too.” Din agrees. 

He stands, having tucked himself back in his black flight suit. His upper torso is still uncovered, though, and you stare. 

The Mandalorian holds out his hand and you take it without hesitation. He helps you stand, then begins to undress himself further, not wanting his knee rockets and boots to get waterlogged.

 “You’re… going to bathe with me?” Your lips curve into a coy smile.

“Is that not obvious?” He responds drily, chucking a boot onto the beach. 

“I’m not going to keep my hands to myself,” you warn in a whisper.

“Neither will I,” the Mandalorian promises. 

_________________________________

Taglist:

@morks-watermelon @leithatnight @sexygaypalpatine @leeeesahhh @taro-666 @bitter-sweet-slut @cockscombkingdom

[fudgelling-away]

You are my favourite sans person, so i wanna ask you, what do you think his singing voice would sound like??? I don't know if it would be similar to his speech which I imagine is like a deeper baritone sort of thing, OR, he's one of those dudes who sounds drastically different depending on what he's doing.

he's sexy either way though🤫🤫

I've been thinking about this ask for the past several days 😳

That is such a sweet thing to say!!! Thank you for telling me this, I appreciate you reaching out so much!

---------------------------

To answer your question, I think Sans would be very skilled in modulating his voice.

I imagine him being an expert in communication - that means not only having an uncanny ability to read your face like an open book, but also being able to masterfully control his own expression and the message that his voice and his body language send.

(note: this has nothing to do with controlling emotions, that's a whole another topic)

That's also why his ability to lie is straight up scary. This man could sell you the most otherwordly ideas in a believable way and you would never know.

Sans is scary. The power he wields IS scary, and I do not mean piercing bones. He's one scary little cookie and I love him so much-

Also, isn't it amazing that he never uses those talents to abuse others? We as the Players commit atrocities and treat the in-game world like our playground. There are also all these other characters who misuse their strength and influence in a destructive, careless way. And on the other side there is Sans. Intelligent, powerful, both in battle and in soft skills.

He is so- ah, you know what I mean?! He could, but he doesn't! He's got all the abilities necessary to become the scariest predator ever seen, and he chooses not to.

But I digress.

HAVING SAID ALL THAT, I think he would be a very good singer in his natural vocal range.

As I have mentioned before, he can read you very well. That means he recognizes each tiny change in your voice. In the game we can also see the way his text speech changes, many times, in different ways. It, of course, is not THAT important - we are discussing headcanons anyway ♡ But I really like that about him, too.

I don't see anything stopping him from using all that knowledge and talent to sing well (if he wanted to).

---------------------------

I'd love to share with you who is my voice for Sans, but I can't. He actually is a singer. I have never seen him linked to Sans in any way whatsoever, so I really don't want to put his name out there.

But that's such a good voice... Oh man...

It's deep, of course, but with a totally unique timbre. I have never heard any voice similar to it, and it's so... It's so pleasant to my ears! It's smooth, and ahhh I can't explain it. It has got that special something... Those undertones that feel and taste like SANS. That relaxed, though positive and attentive manner of speech. Ah. I am obsessed with it.

And I have found it by a total accident. Several months ago I was driving, minding my own business, there was radio playing in the background, and at one point they started to play an old song from the 1980s.

30 seconds in and I'm like, oh shit. No.

1 minute in and I am starting to sweat.

No.

no

no no no-

YEEEEEESSS!

[IMAGINE: A STREAM OF HAPPY EXPLETIVES]

That was an epiphany.

The feeling was euphoric.

SANS

sans sans

ASDDASDASFSSASA

I have no memory of the rest of the drive, but THAT VOICE.

I came back home. I looked up the radio station on the internet. I checked what they played an hour earlier.

And I found out who it actually was.

Immediately I went searching for some recorded interviews and yesss, there they were, perfectly available on youtube...

I spend a couple of hours every week listening to those interviews while I am working or drawing. That voice is ingrained in my brain now. That's my Sans' voice.

I am so sorry I can't show it to you.

--------------------------- Let me know what YOU think! ♡

I love to read different headcanons and ideas.