#incoming from maia!

[djarins-cyare]

Never Look Down

Part 2: Maia’s (Your) Morning

← Part 1 | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Prompt: “I don’t know what’s happening but I love it.”

Summary: Din has been ignoring his crush on Grogu’s babysitter for a while now, with varying degrees of success. But after a misunderstanding leads to some revelations, there’s no denying things any longer. Sometimes you just need to look at things from a different perspective.

Rating: Mature (18+)

Pairing: Din Djarin x Original Female Character (for his POV scenes) / Din Djarin x Reader (for her POV scenes)

Word count: 7,830

Tags/warnings: POV switch, hangover hell, light angst, confessions, even more references to erections, some swearing, references to sex, kissing, reference to fellatio, a lot of fluff, Reader has a name (and a job and an inkling of a backstory). Regarding her prior bad relationship, I don’t want anyone to be triggered by an assumption, so please note she was NOT in an abusive situation. Her former partner was just a drug-dealing douche.

Author’s note: I finished something new! [*cries in disbelief*] 😭. Thank you so much for your interest and support! 💖

READ ON AO3 (author’s preference)

Tumblr version ahead if you prefer…

You wake up somewhere dark and soft. It takes you several seconds to realise where you are due to the throbbing ache in your head that’s screaming for focus.

You’re in Din’s bed.

Oh fuck.

Well… more like no fuck. A shameful absence thereof.

Slowly, memories of the previous night drift to the surface of your foggy brain, each one deepening your embarrassment until you’ve reached the pitiful depths of utter humiliation. It cuts deeper than your hangover, which includes a pounding headache and a bruised shoulder (how did that happen?), yet is almost trivial in comparison. Kark, you drank – and said and did – a lot more than you should’ve.

Babysitting Grogu is not your primary source of income. In fact, you have a contract with Karga for city planning and infrastructure upgrades. But that’s just building holos, presenting them to the High Magistrate, and then outsourcing the work upon approval. It’s sporadic and flexible, leaving you with plenty of hours to kill. You took this part-time job to keep yourself busy, but you’ve come to enjoy hanging out with the little guy and his bafflingly sexy father. Both are good fun, have always been friendly and welcoming, and you’re fond of their company. Who are you kidding – you’re profoundly attached to them both. Plus, Din has taught you to use a blaster, helping you feel safer and more self-reliant now you’re free of your ex’s ‘protection’. The extra credits are merely a bonus, and you’d do this for free if it came to it.

Well, not this. Not turn up drunk, pass out in your boss’s refresher, then misread a gesture of kindness as a sexual advance. And you just had to fucking let your thoughts spill out, didn’t you? Shit, you basically told him you think he’s a virgin! Sure, you’ve wondered, but you’ve never drawn any conclusions, so why did you have to vocalise those thoughts as if you had? You’ve been so careful to avoid suggesting his commitment to his creed might be impeding anything fun. So what if he can’t eat with you or sleep with you – that’s his choice. He probably thinks you’re judging him now. You shouldn’t have opened your mouth, damn it!

Of course he rejected you.

How could you ever have thought Din would want to be with you after everything you did last night? There are so many reasons for him to have walked away like he did. Not only did you fail to provide trustworthy childcare, but you also vomited in his toilet and were a drunken burden on him after he’d had to go out on a job. Then you assumed he wanted sex, implied he might not have the requisite skills, stripped naked, climbed under his sheets, and stole his fucking bed for the whole night.

You’re a disgrace. The regret burns in your chest, branding you from the inside out as the fool who pushed a former bounty hunter too far.

Plus, you work for the guy, so that’s surely a factor. Your role here is simply to take care of his kid. At least it was. And, of course, he’s never shown any interest in you. In fact, whenever you’ve wondered if the two of you are having ‘a moment’, he’s always run away.

Why did you have to make an already bad situation so much worse by revealing your desires? You were coping fine with your self-imposed celibacy. Sure, it was frustrating, but you were surviving. Repressing your libido around him was working for you.

As much as you want to hide beneath the blankets and avoid the fallout, you know you can’t stay in Din’s bed forever. Even though it’s soft and warm and smells like him – fresh yet with a hint of spicy musk. You really can’t.

Fumbling to activate the lamp, you drain the water on the nightstand, noting your clothes strewn across the floor. Thankfully, they don’t smell of alcohol or vomit (at least you’re a tidy drunk), so you get dressed and stumble to the refresher. More memories return at that crime scene, adding to your shame spiral and giving you a likely reason for your bruised shoulder.

Din has left his ultrasound cleaner out of the cabinet, which has to be a suggestion that you use it, and you can take a hint. You recall complaining that your mouth tasted like bantha balls, and accepting his pity is the lesser evil. Though it’s far more than you deserve, it’s also far better than this flavour.

You gladly let the vibrations clean your mouth and then rinse away the residue, feeling much better for it. It’s not enough to ease your thumping headache, but it’s a start.

You can’t hear any noise from upstairs or across the hall, so you wonder if your hosts are still asleep. It’s clearly past dawn since daylight is spilling down the staircase, but it could still be early. Maybe you can just slip out unnoticed? You debate checking on Grogu first. Din probably slept on the couch, though there’s a cushioned chair in the kid’s room that he could’ve used.

Guilt and concern make you check on your charge despite the risk of waking a metal sentinel. But you’re surprised to discover an empty room. That means they’re either both upstairs and being quiet, or they’ve gone out. You’re hoping for the latter. Zandi insisted you meet her for lunch, but part of you wants to run straight to your friend’s place and cry about what an idiot you’ve been. Hmm, no. You should go home for a shower first. Not that it could wash off the disgrace, but it might ease your aching head, at least.

You dart across the hall for your shoes, straightening out your boss’s sheets before you leave (a token apology, if anything). Catching sight of a comb on top of his dresser sends another type of guilt burning through you. Stealing his bed was already an invasion of privacy, but learning about what he hides beneath the beskar feels worse. You anxiously smooth down the blankets, flick off the lamp, and tiptoe up the stairs.

Thankfully, you find an empty living space, lit by sunshine so bright that you realise it’s already mid-morning. Din must have taken Grogu to school.

There’s no sign of your glowrod, but you don’t care. He can keep it. You shove on your boots with as much haste as you can manage and fly to the exit, darting through. Kriff, it’s so blinding outside that you have to turn your back to the sun or risk your hangover increasing tenfold.

Just as you’re gulping lungfuls of fresh air and keying in the lock code to secure the cabin, you hear him.

“Feeling better?”

The Mandalorian steps out from behind the cabin, and you wonder if he’s been waiting to ambush you. Damn it, you should’ve known. Bounty hunter.

You can’t look him in the eyes. Well, the visor, really. Either way, you fix your gaze on the porch. You’d normally come out with something playful and witty, but today, your brain gives you nothing except wry honesty.

“The hangover and torturous headache are nothing compared to my embarrassment,” you answer sheepishly. “I am so sorry about last night.”

You don’t specify which part because you mean all of it. Drinking to excess and throwing up in his home, as well as climbing into his bed, stripping off, and assuming he would fuck you, then commenting on how you thought he couldn’t fuck you. You’re sure you’ll never live down this shame.

Din doesn’t respond to your apology, but he steps forward, a wall of beskar and muscle blocking you from leaving the porch. He leans past you – so close he almost traps you against the door – and reverses the lock code you just entered.

When the door behind you swishes open again, he gestures inside with a nod. “We gotta talk.”

Oh, frotz, this is bad. This is so so so bad. He’s normally relaxed and happy around you, welcoming (or at least tolerating) your friendly jokes and nicknames. But right now, he’s all stiffness and silence, thumbs in his belt and elbows out wide, staring you down as if you were prey. He is not happy with you. You’ve fucked up bad.

You’re going to lose your job. It’s not a substantial source of income, but you’ll lose your bonding time with the kid and the friendly teasing thing you’ve developed with his dad. You won’t get to watch how strong and beautiful this warrior-turned-father is anymore, how soft he is with Grogu, despite his hard beskar shell. There’ll be no more shooting lessons. He’s going to tell you how offensive your remarks were last night… kark, what if he has a duty to punish anyone who disrespects his creed? Is it disrespectful to suggest he can’t have sex, though? Maybe the offensive thing was you throwing yourself at him. Or perhaps he thinks you’re hideous and finds the idea of having sex with you offensive. Whatever the case, he’s going to—

“Maia….”

Hearing your name growled through his modulator snaps you out of your spiralling thoughts, and you realise you’re just standing there gawking at him in the doorway.

Suddenly, you feel meek in his presence, which has never happened before. Even when you first met, he was careful to make you feel safe and welcome. This menacing demeanour is new.

“Please,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “Can I just go home?”

Din looms closer like a rancor threatening its prey. “This won’t take long,” he insists.

With widened eyes, you shrink back toward the scene of your crimes, your near freedom now a fool’s delusion. He walks forward as you step backward across the cabin’s threshold, maintaining the proximity – a fateful dance that promises a morning even more tragic than the night before.

“Sit,” he commands, gesturing to the couch. He watches you perch yourself where you’re told to and then nods, appeased by your obedience.

A heavy silence clouds the room as your soon-to-be-ex boss flicks on the caf maker and heats the beverage while you quietly unravel on the couch. You’re not even sure what this is. It feels like he’s about to punish you (and not in a good way), but you have no idea how. Is he going to yell at you? Torture you with some kind of ritualistic Mandalorian justice? Or is he just going to describe how disappointed he is, fire you from this job, and threaten to roast you with his flamethrowers if he catches you anywhere near Grogu?

Whatever’s about to happen, you’re zealously ignoring the part of you that’s low-key turned on by how dominant he’s acting this morning. You can’t examine that right now.

After a minute or two, Din brings a cup to the couch and perches beside you, performing an awkward shuffle as he angles his body toward you. Still unsure how to act, you remain facing straight ahead, watching him in your peripheral.

He’s fully armoured this morning, his movements determined but stiff, and you recall how fluidly his body moved when he was just down to his flight suit. When he swept you into his arms, cradled you against his chest, and carried you to his bed…

No! Bad thoughts! Now is not the time for those because you’re about to receive the worst reprimand of your life (and you work for Karga!).

But your brain won’t stop replaying the memory, leading you to a distracting notion. He keeps his armour on the shelves in his bedroom – you saw it there last night. That means he must have come in to grab it this morning while you were sleeping. Damn, he’s stealthy! Though, to be fair, you were utterly passed out.

Wait. You woke up fully covered and tucked in. You don’t recall falling asleep, but you do remember arranging the blanket for optimum cleavage display. Kark, you really hope you snuggled down properly in your sleep. Because if not, there’s a chance that he opened his door to an inadvertent boob extravaganza, and he covered you up for the sake of your dignity. Fuck! How much shame can you suffer in a single morning?

He still hasn’t started talking, so before your thoughts ricochet in yet another distressing direction, you prompt, “You, uh, said we need to talk?” It’s probably best to confront your impending doom so you can run home and scream into a pillow.

Din huffs a little. “We do. Doesn’t mean I know how to start.”

Hmm, well, he doesn’t seem too angry, at least. Perhaps there won’t be any Mandalorian torture-based vengeance after all.

You don’t have the energy to play ‘guess the punishment’, but maybe you can stave it off if you beg for mercy. “Okay, then let me start. I said and did some monumentally stupid things last night, and I understand if you can’t forgive me and never want to see me again. But I just need you to know how truly sorry I am and that I really didn’t mean to offend you, and if I could—”

“Stop apologising,” he interrupts, shaking his helmet.

His order startles you into silence. It was insistent, but he didn’t sound angry at all. In fact, there was an undertone of something else. Almost the amused side of frustrated. What the kriff is happening?

Din sighs and tilts his visor toward his lap, then seems surprised to realise he’s still clutching the caf he made but clearly can’t drink in your presence. He silently offers you the steaming cup, and after a beat, you accept it, staring at it just as he did.

Never has a cup of caf received as much scrutiny as when two parties are unsure how to vocalise their thoughts.

“I made it for you,” he offers. “Thought… with the hangover….”

“Thanks,” you mumble, unsure what else to do or say. This isn’t going as expected at all, and your confusion is only growing. Is he doing some kind of bounty hunter ‘killing with kindness’ act?

This is absurd. You just need to get him talking, accept your punishment, and then you can escape.

“Um,” you begin, and his shadowed visor fixes on you again, unsettling you further. “If… if you don’t want to hear my apologies… what do you want to talk about?”

Your reluctant host forces out his response like it’s stuck inside his throat. “I want… I wanna ask you… some things. And I need you to answer honestly.”

Your stomach churns with nerves. He has questions? He must want you to explain what you said. He’s going to make you relive it – not by telling you how offensive you were, but by making you deconstruct your own comments and actions.

Kark. It’s a punishment, alright.

But if the penalty for your folly is the discomfort of explaining yourself, you can deal with that. This is a man you’re used to teasing, and he sounds just as unsure about what to say here as you are. So, you need to gather your confidence and endure whatever awkwardness this brings up.

You square your shoulders and lift your chin. “Okay… ask me.”

“You’ll answer? Honestly?” There’s an edge of desperation in Din’s voice from which you intuit his real meaning. You need to check any joking at the door.

Well, your current embarrassment level is sky-high, so whatever he wants you to respond to or admit surely can’t be much worse. You’ve already laid yourself (literally) bare for him. “I will. You got a slice of my inner dialogue last night, so I might as well continue the honesty.”

“Good… thank you.” He releases a profound sigh, a rush of static through the vocoder, and appears to gather himself for his first question. “Why do you think my creed means I can’t…?” He trails off, but you follow his meaning and match his heavy sigh.

“I don’t really think that,” you assure him. “Honestly, I’ve never known what to think, which means I’ve made no assumptions either way. But I guess… my drunken brain felt it was… safer to err on the side of caution when addressing it out loud.”

You’re not in the least bit surprised that he’s starting with this. If he is a virgin, you’ve mocked him, and if he isn’t, you’ve no doubt hurt his pride.

When he doesn’t respond, you suggest, “If that’s your first question, it sounds like you’re worried I’m judging you, so let me reinforce what I just said. ‘No assumptions’ means ‘no judgments’. But if you want to clarify things, I can promise you that whatever the truth is, I still won’t judge you.”

The importance Din is giving this topic is by far the biggest clue to the likely truth. No virgin would question you in the way that he just did. If they mentioned it at all, they’d probably just insist it’s not a topic for you to concern yourself with and never speak of it again. But inviting him to confirm his expertise gives him an easy way to lay the matter to rest. It’s also the kindest thing to do in the wake of your drunken foolishness.

He nods a fraction, accepting the premise, pausing while he chooses his words. “My creed doesn’t impose any rules relating to that, only that I cannot remove my helmet. And… some people kind of, uh… they get off on the mystery. So I do pretty well when I need to… blow off some steam.”

Huh. That was surprisingly direct (for him). You can’t help but smile, wondering if your delight stems from finally having proof that he isn’t without experience or that this discussion (so far) isn’t about how badly you fucked up.

Hoping to conceal your thoughts and keep the focus on him, you instantly slide back into teasing mode with a new nickname and a vague compliment of sorts. “Super Stud! You’re very discreet.”

“That’s the idea,” he confirms, ignoring his new moniker. “Although it’s by no means frequent, and since I got Grogu, I haven’t had….” He clears his throat. “Time and opportunity are rare.”

As much as you wish Din would choose to ‘blow off some steam’ with you, all you hear is a chance to atone for last night’s thoughtless actions. “I can take care of him while you go have some fun…?”

A massive scoff comes through the vocoder, and he shakes his helmet widely. “No, Maia, that’s… that’s not gonna work.”

But you persist, desperate to make amends. “Oh, come on, Metal Man, you deserve a break. Isn’t there anyone on Nevarro you can call for some fun?”

He sighs. “I have… options, yes.”

You furrow your brow at that. “So why did you say time and opportunity are rare? If you’ve got options, why don’t you just get your shiny ass laid while I do what you pay me for and take care of—”

A distinctly peeved huff crackles through the modulator, and you instantly fall silent. You forgot you’re not supposed to be teasing. Nor is it clear yet whether you still have a job. Foot, meet mouth.

He curtly redirects you. “Next question.” You assent with a nod, but when he continues, his tone is suddenly guarded and awkward. “Last night, you said… you suggested… that you and I might… blow off some steam.”

Fuck, this is the part you were dreading, and your pulse picks up. He seems nervous. Is that good or bad? Well, it’s better than angry and scary. You try to freeze your movements to avoid either wincing or looking too eager, nervously awaiting his question.

“Was that… because of the alcohol? Or… something, uh… real?” All you detect in his voice is discomfort, so you can’t tell which option he hopes for.

You sigh and take a careful slurp of the scalding hot caf to buy yourself time. It’s hard to answer because there’s a lot at risk. If you’re too honest about your feelings and Din doesn’t feel the same way, your relationship might end – professional as well as personal.

But once again, the fact that he’s asking suggests your answer is important to him, so the odds are likely in your favour. If he wasn’t attracted to you, surely he’d play it down and give you a way to save face. Just say he knew your silly drunken advances were simply an extension of your usual urge to tease and meant nothing, and that he forgives you for them. Surely he wouldn’t ask if they were ‘real’.

The concept sparks a tiny flame of hope in a dark and dusty corner of your mind, a pinprick of light to chase away the fears you walked in here with.

However, you can’t be too hasty or draw conclusions without facts. Though this isn’t going as dreadfully as you feared it might, the sensible option is to avoid getting your hopes up. He asked you for honesty, so you’ll give him that, but you decide to err on the side of caution again. An assumption against any interest on his part shouldn’t be offensive.

“It wasn’t… totally the alcohol,” you confess cautiously, and you see his body instantly tense up. Is that a positive reaction? “I’ve been trying to remember exactly what I said to you. I told you it was a ‘dream’, right?” Din nods once. “Well… that’s true. I admit I’ve had some daydreams about the idea. But it felt… safer not to mention it. Last night, you made it clear you weren’t interested in me, and you’ve never given me any reason to think otherwise, so I—”

“I did no such thing.”

Shit. The anger you were afraid of is finally colouring the Mandalorian’s tone, and he leans forward with his vehement denial.

What did you say wrong? Did you tease too soon with the new nickname just now? Shock and confusion contort themselves across your face, and you shrink backward.

He almost growls at your retreat, and the creak of his leather gloves as he clenches his fists has you bracing yourself for trouble. You honestly can’t tell if you’re turned on or terrified.

Before you can decide, he declares, “Last night, I had to walk away from a beautiful naked woman in my bed because she’d been drinking, and I would never do anything without full consent. I did not make it clear I wasn’t interested in you. Fuck, Maia, I have dreams about you too. All the time.”

Your mouth hangs open in surprise. Even knowing it was vaguely possible, you weren’t ready for that response.

He has dreams about you too!

Now that he’s confessed what got him so worked up, you see him make a visible effort to calm down.

His next words are much softer, soothing your prior unease, though your heart continues to thump from his admission. “Time and opportunity are rare because you’re Grogu’s babysitter, and that kid loves you. When he’s not with me, he wants to be with you. He only goes to school twice a week. That’s not a lot of time or—”

��—or opportunity,” you finish. “Okay, I get it. Why didn’t you say anything before? We could’ve been blowing off steam on schooldays for months already, but I had no idea. I would’ve climbed naked into your bed way sooner if I’d known.”

Din groans, a low and sinful rumble, and you wonder if you shouldn’t have put those images in his mind.

A deep breath later, he answers, “My son is my priority; his needs come before mine. He needs a good babysitter more than I need a good… uh….” He trails off and clears his throat. “And last night was the first time you’d ever said anything. I had no idea either.”

“But, but…” you stammer. Okay, so you’ve been keeping it to yourself, but you’re surprised he didn’t pick up on your attraction at all. “I’m flirting and checking you out all the crinking time, Metal Man. I thought bounty hunters were observant?”

He hums as if he’s flattered by your admission. “Teasing me is not a sign of anything on its own. And I’ve never seen you look anywhere other than directly at my helmet. You would’ve noticed my interest otherwise.” You furrow your brow slightly, not following, and he shakes his head in frustration. “You never look down.”

You look down.

Holy mother of meteors…

That is one obscenely snug flight suit and one fucking impressive erection.

Granted, you’ve noticed he’s been wearing the loose flight suit pants more often. In fact, you’ve missed being able to check out his toned ass in the closer-fitting ones. But since you can’t see where he’s looking, you’ve always been careful to keep your roving eyes chaste whenever he’s facing you. And, kriff, you never figured the reason for his wardrobe change was to hide this glorious attribute.

“Wow,” you breathe, unsure of what else to say. Suddenly, the volume on your headache reduces, and your lust levels shoot up. It’s so….

Din fidgets slightly, perhaps on edge because of your sudden scrutiny. Oops.

You revert your gaze to his visor, chancing some levity to ease the tension. “If I wasn’t fighting a skull-splitting hangover, I’d have a whole host of new nicknames for you already. Something about being as hard as beskar or carrying a concealed weapon… ugh, gimme a day, I’ll come up with a winner.”

His chuckle suggests the ice between you is now well and truly broken. You knock back the rest of your caf in the relaxed pause. It’s still hotter than you prefer, but perhaps it’ll quell your desire.

He lets you finish before breaking the easy silence. “Another question before you go, if it’s okay. Maybe a couple more, depending on how you answer the first one. I’d rather not leave this topic hanging now that we’ve addressed it.”

“Sure.” Right now, you’re willing to give this man whatever he wants.

“Okay. There’s another reason I walked away last night – besides your drunken state. It’s why I haven’t mentioned this before.” He swallows and inhales shakily. “You told me that your last relationship was terrible. And the fact that you chose to celebrate its end tells me you value your freedom. On my side, my relationships are rarely meaningful or long-term. So it might seem easiest to keep things casual.”

He pauses, but it’s unclear whether he wants your input. You can’t tell where he’s going with this, so you give him a one-shouldered shrug.

He leans forward and rests his vambraces on his cuisses. “If Grogu wasn’t around, it might be. But casual never ends well, and I will not threaten the bond you two have just for something meaningless. For the child’s sake, we gotta be sure where we stand before we… act on any of this. I can’t do casual with you, Maia. So the first question is: are you interested enough to try something… meaningful? Because if you’re not, we gotta bury this.”

He’s right. You start to understand why he got so worked up at your admission that you’re attracted to him for real. It complicates things.

He’s asked a logical and vital question, and you take a moment to give it due attention. Whatever happens, this cannot threaten your employment. So where are the lines?

You’ve felt something for Din from the start, and your attraction has only grown. That line is already blurred, and it hasn’t threatened anything, but it helps you see what he’s getting at. Your attachment to him and Grogu has become far more profound than you expected, so you couldn’t do casual even if you tried. It could only harm your bond with the kid if you tried to repress that attachment and keep things casual with his father.

Simply put, your feelings are already meaningful, so whatever comes next must be too.

Strangely, that doesn’t scare you. Your prior experience was poor – both oppressive and neglectful – but you were a displaced teenager on a new planet looking for protection when you got into that. Din is nothing like your ex, and this couldn’t be more different. You have faith in this man and, thus, faith in your answer.

“I am,” you confirm with a smile. “Are you?” He’s already confirmed he won’t do casual, but you need his agreement to start something meaningful.

He swallows, then echoes, “I am.”

A thrilling but weighty moment passes as you both digest this, just staring at one another in the wake of your mutual confessions. The air feels charged with promise. You can almost taste it.

It’s hard to judge how long has passed when he speaks again. “Second question. Did you use my ultrasound cleaner?”

Well, that’s a non sequitur. You have no idea how this query relates to your previous answer, but you nod nonetheless.

“Great. Come with me.”

He stands and leads you downstairs, stepping into his room and tapping on the main lights. When he sees that you’ve made his bed, he hums happily.

You’re quiet but hopeful, the heady feeling of promise that consumed you last night slowly filling you up once more as he turns to face you and beckons you closer.

“We should take this slow,” he starts. “You’re hungover, and I want you to feel comfortable when we….” He nods at the bed, oddly still reticent to describe the act.

“When we fuck.”

Din releases the cutest whimper and tugs at his pants. “That is not helping me with this problem. If you keep talking like that, I might not be able to resist,” he warns.

You scoff. “Shiny, are you really trying to threaten me with sex? Kriff, please tell me you didn’t use this tactic on any bounties back in the day.”

“No, I did not. And I’m trying to save that until your head doesn’t hurt,” he sighs. “But… question three. Before you go home, can I… kiss you?”

Your eyebrows shoot up as surprise and desire collide and carve a messy path through your chest, sending your heart tumbling into a double-time beat.

“Are you…” You’re not quite sure how to phrase your query, still chagrined by last night’s verbal blunders. “Is that some kind of metaphor? Does ‘kissing’ mean something different for Mandalorians with the whole helmet thing? Because if we’re just gonna thumb wrestle or something, I’m still in, but it’s kind of weird to call it kissing.”

He chuckles, and it eases your worry. “We do have a kissing substitute, but no, in this case, I meant what I said. I just gotta turn the lights out so you can’t see me when I remove my helmet. If that’s okay.”

All of your fears and concerns melt away with his answer. Gone are your worries about your budding romance having awkward or difficult restrictions, replaced by a certainty that you can handle not making eye contact. If observing that single caveat allows you to be with this man, you don’t even consider it a sacrifice.

Well, if he brought you down here to ensure it’s dark enough, you can help with that. You saunter to the door and touch the control to slide it closed, blocking out the sunshine filtering down the stairs, and then you turn to him with a smile. “It’s very okay. I’m not leaving here without a kiss, Din.”

He sucks in a modulated breath and doesn’t move for a second. “You… used my name.”

You know you’re allowed to – he’s told you that many times – but you find the nicknames help to maintain a friendly distance. Treat him as a friend, not as a lover. Except now things are changing.

“I thought I’d practice,” you explain. “I’m guessing that when we do get in that bed together, you’d prefer I scream out your real name instead of ‘Shiny’ or ‘Beskar Boy’.”

He groans sinfully again and reaches for you, fixing a glove around your wrist and tugging you to stand beside the shelves he stores his armour on. “Don’t move,” he instructs. Then he releases your wrist and taps a button on his vambrace, and the lights very slowly fade out until the room is darker than the void between galaxies.

Suddenly, sensations are everything. You can detect the warmth of Din’s body so close to yours, though you’re not yet touching. You hear him breathing more audibly than usual, a gentle but slightly stuttered hiss through the vocoder. You feel the air swirl around you as he raises his hands to his helmet…

The rhythmic thump of your heartbeat quickens, and despite your lack of sight, it’s as if the events occur in flashes between the beats. The absence of sound as you hold your breath. The gentle rustle as he slides off the metal helmet. The muffled clang when it hits the shelf as he lines it up. The scrape of the edge as he pushes it home. The nervous breath he releases in the subsequent silence, reminding you to exhale too.

Then he’s reaching for you, and your mind goes blank as his hands find your hips, closing the distance further. It’s not close enough to feel his arousal against you, although that’s probably wise. But if you weren’t still harbouring a headache, you’d be unable to resist pressing forward and seeking the impressive bulge you admired upstairs. Instead, you lay your palms on his cuirass and slide upward, burying your fingers in his cloak. That’s as high as you’ll go until you know what’s allowed.

One of Din’s gloved hands engulfs the nape of your neck, and you love how he’s controlling this, moving you in the dark to where he wants you. You can tell he’s leaned in closer by the sound of his breathing – more audible without the beskar barrier. Then there’s a sense of warmth on your skin as he brings you close enough to nuzzle at your hairline, gently at first, until you register the distinct press of his nose against your temple.

You feel it just before he speaks, his breath tickling near your ear as he opens his mouth to husk smooth, unmodulated words. “Go easy on me; it’s been a while since I’ve done this.”

Fuck, his voice is gorgeous. It resonates through you like a rumbling storm, drenching you with wanton promise, unleashing a different wetness upon you. If there were any frequency that could subdue your headache, it would be his soft and smoky timbre.

“Oh?” It’s all you can manage; a single syllable of surprise at his admission. He seems so confident.

“Mm,” he confirms, brushing his lips softly near the corner of your eye, and you detect some stubble around them. “Before we swear the Creed, we spend a while doing the things we’re taught to avoid after. I’ve only used this loophole once since then. So….” He trails off and presses a gentle kiss to the crest of your cheekbone, warm lips on soft skin, and you melt in his arms.

You want to assure him that he’s nailing it, preparing you so perfectly that he seems like an expert kisser, no matter how little practice he’s had. You want to thank him for deeming you worthy enough to use this rare loophole and express your stunned gratitude at the privilege he’s allowing you. But the notion of speaking confounds you, and all you can do is lift your chin and indicate your willingness to do this.

Din gets the message.

You can sense his nerves in the way he cautiously presses his lips against yours. But in the millisecond it takes to register a connection, your body reacts before your brain and electricity shoots through your nerve endings. Instantly, thousands of perfect explosions stud your skin, making you shiver in bliss.

He’s sweet, gentle, respectful… and it’s good. But it’s a little chaste for your liking, and you can tell he’s holding himself back. He needs to let go, so you emit a low hum of pleasure, which spurs him on and increases his fervour. You gently part your lips, and he gets the hint and takes the lead, deepening the kiss until your tongues meet – a touch that halts the spin of the whole galaxy around you.

Then he lets go. It’s as if he’s suddenly remembered how to breathe after holding his breath for decades, and oh, how utterly starved of oxygen he’s been. This kiss is feeding him, keeping him alive. His tightened grip, the tremors of lust you detect running through him, the way he almost whimpers into your mouth… it’s assertive and adorable in equal measures.

You can feel his inexperience, but you let him lead anyway. He gets lost in the sensations a few times, his rhythm faltering, but he corrects himself and responds keenly to your subtle signals of what’s good. It’s not long before you’re locked in a perfect moment, sharing an exquisite kiss with your ideal man.

When you part, it’s by mere centimetres, and you’re so full of happy chemicals that your hangover is barely a niggle at the back of your brain.

“I think that fixed my headache,” you purr against his lips. “I bet I could even thumb wrestle you now….” You have no clue what you’re implying, but you’re low-key horny, and openly flirting with him for once is fun.

Din’s unmodulated chuckle is the cutest thing you’ve ever heard. “Well, I was aiming for ‘mindblowing’, but I’ll take ‘headache-fixing’,” he jests, bantering right back for once. You can’t help but close the tiny distance to steal another lingering yet closed-mouth kiss, eager to show him just how addictive his efforts were.

Once again, your lips barely separate, lingering close. “Oh, it’s blown alright – completely offline. Probably why it doesn’t hurt anymore.” A salacious idea comes to you then, and you voice it a hair’s breadth from his mouth, knowing he’ll refuse but wanting to show you’re willing. “Maybe now it’s my turn to blow something of yours….”

The sharp gasp he sucks in and raggedly exhales indicates he’s just pictured your suggestion and played the image to its fruition. In the pitch-black room, you can pick up on his obvious arousal through sound and touch – the almost-groan he swallows, the twitch of all the muscles in his body as he reins himself in.

There’s a pause as he considers your proposal, and you can tell he’s waging a war with himself to refuse. You’ve put him in a difficult position. But this new closeness allows you to upgrade friendly teasing into full-on flirting, and you can’t resist.

It takes longer than you expect, but Din finally releases a shuddering breath, swallows, and presses a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth. Then he rasps, “I would enjoy that very much, but it’s not why I brought you down here, mesh’la.”

Mesh’la? Who the fuck is that? You stiffen in his arms, unable to process the idea that he’s just said someone else’s name during an intimate moment. Even if it does sound similar enough to yours that you could maybe understand the slip, how could he—?

“Maia,” you correct pointedly as your thoughts spiral, pulling away slightly, your stomach suddenly in knots.

He tightens his hold and hurriedly assures you, “Hey, no, it’s not— mesh’la means ‘beautiful’ in Mando’a.”

There’s a tense pause, and then you murmur, “Ah,” embarrassed and glad you didn’t instantly flip out at your incorrect assumption, then suddenly flattered by the compliment. As you fall back into his embrace, your sluggish brain gives you nothing more, too confused by the pelting of emotions you just received in quick succession. Perhaps it’s best to adopt Din’s usual policy of silence.

But he saves you from your chagrin and redirects you to another topic. “Final question. Can I make you dinner one evening this week? We agreed we’re aiming for something… meaningful here. Getting physical right away is not the best way to achieve that.” He squeezes your waist with the hand that’s remained in place throughout. “As much as I’m looking forward to that part.”

A sweet smile is your reply, though you realise he can’t see it in the dark. Luckily, it’s followed up by the return of your vocabulary. “Dinner sounds good. Grogu too?” You love the little womp rat, but this sounds like a date, so you’d rather it wasn’t crashed by a decades-old toddler.

Din hums as he follows your thought process. “The kids at his school keep inviting him on playdates and sleepovers. The parents seem like good people, so I’m sure we could arrange something both he and I would be happy with.”

You nod. “Then I look forward to our first date.” You can’t imagine how a dinner date will work with a guy who can’t show his face, but at least now you know there are loopholes. Perhaps he has another for eating together.

“Me too… mesh’la Maia.” You hear his slightly cheeky but utterly earnest tone, and you can’t help grinning. How apt that he should give you a nickname just when you decide to start using his real name.

You want to kiss him again, but since you pulled away a little, you can’t judge where his face is anymore, and you’re not sure if you’re allowed to touch him to locate it. “Another kiss before I leave, gorgeous guy?” (Two can play the nickname game, and you started it).

“Always,” Din agrees through a chuckle, bringing you in close again with the hand on your neck, finding your lips and pressing something firmer, more resolute there. You open eagerly for him and revel in the thrust of his tongue against yours. He’s settling into it now, more confident in himself and his technique, while carefully heeding your responses.

You enjoy it while you can – the sensations, the taste, the warmth, the delicious calm energy that washes through you with his lips on yours, his tongue in your mouth, his hand on your neck. You commit the feelings to memory, unsure when you’ll get to do it again. You hope you won’t have to wait too long for your date.

It’s over too soon, but you accept that it has to be. As you separate, you attempt to lock in the memories of the features you’ve felt pressed against you – stubble, soft lips, a strong nose. It’s not much, but it’s more than you had before.

Din’s hand falls from your neck, and you bemoan the loss of heat and comfort, spiralling back toward your hangover from the heady heights of such an intimate moment. As you hear the scrape of his helmet on the shelf’s edge again, you panic a little and blurt out, “What’s your hair like?”

He freezes, and your panic swells for a different reason. Based on the comb you spotted on his dresser earlier, you’re confident you’re not asking a bald man to describe his hair, but perhaps it’s forbidden to ask.

“I-I mean, if I’m not allowed to know, then forget I asked. I just… now that I’ve felt your lips, it’s made me wonder about the rest. It’s fine if you can’t tell me, though.”

A few seconds later, the scrape of the helmet resumes, and he slides it into his grasp. But you don’t hear him put it on.

Din’s reply is a low whisper, and he sounds even more nervous than he was before you kissed. “You can’t see my face… but you can touch it. If you want.”

Oh. You wonder how many people have touched his face, which makes you hesitate. This feels more intimate than you should be getting right now. “Thank you. I think… just your hair today. I’ll explore the rest of you on our date, face included.” That promise wins you an eager hum.

Your hands remain buried in his cloak, so you slide one to the back of his neck and rake upward. A gasp escapes you as you feel soft strands, longer than you expected and curling slightly at the ends. You picture the cutest mess of unruly waves.

“Is it… what colour is it?” You’ve seen him without his gloves a few times – last night included – so you know his skin is a warm amber. But human genetics are so diverse that you can’t really assume anything about his hair based on that.

It takes a few seconds for him to answer, busy sighing in bliss and pressing his head into your palm like a tooka getting stroked. “Dark,” he replies simply. It’s unclear whether he’s hypnotised by your hand in his hair or he’s not used to disclosing details about himself. Both are fair excuses, and you have much more data than you did ten minutes ago either way. You’re convinced he’s gorgeous.

“Thank you, Din,” you offer as you force yourself to stop running your fingers through his silken waves and withdraw a step.

There’s a quiet rustle as he places his helmet back on and seals it. “You’re welcome.” It’s modulated again, but there’s something about hearing that metallic rasp that makes you smile. You just kissed the source of that sound.

With a muffled beep from his vambrace, the lights fade up again, revealing an impassive black T-visor. However, the armoured body below it somehow looks more relaxed and assured. Gone is the stiffness you felt in his limbs earlier, and though you wonder if a certain stiffness in his pants remains, you’re not about to start ogling him when you should be going home.

So you smile and suggest, “Walk me out?” and you’re rewarded with a nod.

When you exit the cabin for the second time in one morning, you feel like a different person. Though your foggy head throbs and your bruised shoulder smarts, your very essence sparkles with an energy you’ve never felt before. It flares with each lingering touch the Mandalorian bestows upon you, with every prolonged stare of his visor, and with his soft instruction to get home safe.

He’ll call you, he promises, slipping a new comlink into your hand.

When you exit the cabin for the second time in one morning, you feel like a better person. The girl who disgraced herself last night has gone, leaving a happier and more fulfilled version in her place. Even so, you’re sure glad that idiot version of yourself ran her mouth and became the catalyst for your new path with Din.

And you can’t wait to look down again. Maybe next time you’ll get to go down too.

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Get ready for more loquacious end notes…

Maia’s job was inspired by this scene from s3e5. She’s not a civil engineer, but, like, she could be that girl with the datapad – doing all the planning and building the holos while the engineer gets all the glory (can you tell I work in a support role??).

I originally wrote details at the end of part one of everything Din decided – that she must be attracted to him based on how she worded things, and that he’d talk to her to verify that and determine whether it was something she’d like to act on or just ignore. But I realised it was better for the story to leave his intentions a mystery (is the thing he ‘doesn’t want to have to do’ ejecting her from his life, or simply having a grownup conversation?), which hopefully lets you feel more of Maia’s fear here.

I feel like there’s a lot of scope for misunderstandings, not just because of Din’s helmet, but also because he can be socially awkward. So there he is, massively attracted to this girl who threw herself at him the night before but he doesn’t know what to say, so he just sort of gravitates towards her, tries to get close. Is he sort of flirting? Maybe. The ‘get in their personal space’ thing might work for him when he’s casually picking someone up. So his actions here are him trying to say with body language “I like you too, I want to get closer,” but she misunderstands because of her embarrassment, sees it as intimidation, and shies away – a response which makes him even more clueless about how to vocalise things.

I hope the switch from third person (she/her) pronouns in part 1 Din’s POV to second person (you/your) pronouns in part 2 Maia’s POV wasn’t too clunky. I know it’s popular in this fandom to use second-person pronouns (you/your) even when writing from a third person’s POV (Din’s), but I just can’t make myself do it. If he’s the one whose head we’re in, when he’s thinking about the woman he’s attracted to, he wouldn’t be thinking “damn, you’re hot”, he’d be thinking “damn, she’s hot”. I was taught that we should hear internal dialogue exactly as it would sound to the person thinking it, thus we should use third-person pronouns when inside his head. You/your is only for when we’re inside the reader’s head (second-person POV so second-person pronouns). And of course, I/me pronouns are used if we’re ever inside the author’s head (first person POV). I hope that explains the switch here. I swear I can’t help my annoying adherence to grammar rules – it’s just been drilled into me. I wish I could be more flexible sometimes, but unfortunately the autism always wins 😔

GIF made by me again, slightly less blurry this time.

Definitions: An ultrasound cleaner is basically a sonic toothbrush from Legends. Both Boba Fett and Jabba the Hutt kept a rancor as a rather scary pet. Caf, as you probably know, is the SWU’s coffee. Din (and Maia here) often calls Grogu a womp rat, a pest on Tatooine (proving Din has spent long enough there to pick up the local lingo, and Maia has picked it up from him). A tooka is an SWU cat.

As always, comments/kudos (AO3) and likes/reblogs (Tumblr) will inspire me to produce more things. I don’t have a Kofi because I would rather have your help marketing my stories than take your cash, so if you enjoy my work, please support me with kudos and reblogs. Thanks!

Honestly, I’m not altogether thrilled with this fic. I struggle with shorter (ha!) pieces because, as those of you who have read Be-All And Endor will know, I’m much more comfortable playing the long game and writing things where I can focus on character development, foreshadow future events, reference and call back concepts, and do a heck of a lot of worldbuilding. So to me, this feels like it lacks depth because it’s a very simple and straightforward concept that lacks a full-on conflict/resolution arc, and as a character study it’s nothing that hasn’t been done before. I’ve also been struggling to write something I felt was good enough to publish in the wake of Be-All. I don’t think this passes muster, but in the end, I realised I had to just post something – anything – simply to get past that fear of doing it. So I hope this was interesting enough to at least hold your attention! I suppose I could write a part 3 where they have their date and the smut happens, but to be honest, I have several other smutty fics in the works that have much better setups, so I think I should focus on those. I might come back to this one day, though.

Tags requested…

@aheadfullofsteverogers @alltheotps @axolotllover225 @burntheedges @copperhalfcent

@dindenimchicken @feekedbeat @foomoosworld @jude77 @penvisions

@pigeonmama @secretelephanttattoo @stagerightlauren @the-mandawhor1an @titlee78

I tagged those below in part 1 due to interest in my series masterlist and WIP snippets (comments/reblogs). Nobody told me off for my audacity, so I’m hoping you’ll enjoy part 2 also…

@604to647 @cheekychaos28 @djarinmuse @gingerlurk

@joelalorian @kyberblade @readingupsidedown @sunflowersunlight7-blog

@thefrogdalorian @whataenginerd @wrathkitty

[fukutomichi]

Might be just me, but Season 2 throws the word forgiveness A LOT these past episodes, it wouldn't surprise me that it turns out to be the central theme this season.

Elrond seems to wrestle with himself in him not being able to see why Galadriel did what she did. And with him already saying that the fate of Celebrimbor lies in his hands, will he be able to forgive himself for what's about to happen?

Isildur NEVER being able to forgive himself for what happened to his mother, yet Theo finds a way to move past it and forgive himself by honoring his mother and continuing in her footsteps, with Arondir being a supportive gentle soul that he is. But can Arondir forgive Adar, who's directly responsible for the death of his love? I have a feeling we have a clash incoming. Is Adar deserving of forgiveness, after all he did what he did to give his adopted orc kids a place to exists.

And we don't even have to mention Númenor and the downward spiral that the island is heading. Can the characters there be able to forgive themselves for what they're about to do? The same goes for Khazad-dûm as well.

Sauron could never forgive himself as well, he DID try, but he could also never forgive others, and after that moment when his power point presentation listing his new age's resolutions backfired on him, now he's gonna make sure that he never asks for forgiveness EVER again.

The Stranger (jfc just confirm that he's the G man already comeooon) is also FINALLY heading to end of his road and a decision he has to make FAST. And he visibly fears it. If he doesn't make it in time, what then? Will he be able to forgive himself for not arriving in time to turn the tide? Wizards are never late, right?

Will Galadriel also be able to forgive herself for being so laser focused on her task that ended up with a dirty grimy maia falling for her hard (can't blame the dude), and she DID resonate with him, is now trowing a temper tantrum all over Middle-Earth cause she rejected him. What if she makes a decision that will cost her when she meets him again? A mistake undeserving of forgiveness from her friends?

HUGE mistakes are gonna be made. We NEED to see them. We NEED to see how hard is to forgive and be forgiven. To forgive yourself.

Forgiveness takes an age.

I dunno man, the Ents made me emotional again.

[darkmodechaoticlight]

Accidental

Satan was all bluster when he told Evie that he wanted her to bear his children. But that night when they were attacked by Angels in Gehenna- his daughter came into the world. I hc that Satan and Evie were in a dangerous battle when Evies water broke. Evie had hidden the pregnancy during the previous battles of Gehenna, knowing that Satan would worry more of her than his people. -Evie had an extreme pain tolerance and like her family rarely expressed pain. A small twinge in her leg or up her spine was all she felt as she was killing the angels with the other devils. Their blood seemed to fuel her rage. -She was able to rip one angel apart before she growled in pain. Something truly demonic. Satan and the others recognized the cry of pain being the Call of a Prince. The Angels, alarmed shift aim to Evie and her incoming child. She was able to summon a barrier as she was ankle deep in angel blood. -Satan heeded the call immediately, answering in a soothing tone even if he could barely be heard over the rush of battle. Sitri openly offers Satan his blood to make the weapons of his king. Ppyong was able to stay by Evie's side before Satan made his way over to the protective bubble. -Satan only saw her blank face, the pressure was there, the pain that had flared up not so long ago was now gone. But the babe was incoming (Ppyong: It was the first time I had ever seen a head coming from that place.) Weirded out by her apparent no reaction to labour he had to scramble to catch his daughter. She was alive, and filled with the same rage as her parents. Her cries seemed to have heralded the end of the seige. -Satan got first skin to skin contact with the baby. He is very protective of his daughter, being very active in her care. Evie chuckled when he only let her feed the infant before taking care of her. -Satan allowed his first born be named after Evie's mum, another devil called Maia. -Maia was fairly average compared to her incoming siblings. A soild seven pounds even. She looked like Satan, down to the blinding red eyes and pale pink hair. Bonus: Satan: *Sharing the news that he had an heir, sending a picture of a sleeping Maia in his arms to the King Group chat.* Asmodeus: Lucky for you and our dear Evie, I love milfs Satan: Keep your lubed up hands away from her! Asmodeus: Don't be so coy Satan, don't you remember Woodstock? I'm sure we could come up with a compromise Beelzebub: Does this mean shes free? Belphegor: So shes been broken in. Thank you Satan. Lucifer: Now that was uncalled for. Belphegor: Well, if shes keeping her side of the bargain with bearing our heirs she better enjoy her free time now.

[storiesbyjes2g]

3.170 One more thing

I probably should have waited to have the next conversation, but I figured since we were getting everything in the open, we may as well discuss finding a new house. Besides, she said she missed talking, right? Autumn in San Sequoia is beautiful. It's refreshingly cool in the mornings, and evenings, and warm during the day. I suggested we take Desi and hang out in our side yard for a bit. A little while ago, I packed up the yoga mats I had out there and set up a nice outdoor chill spot. It's clear I'm not gonna achieve my yoga dreams, if you can even call them that. We weren't using the space, so I turned it into something we will definitely use. Since Desiree will be walking soon, I'll have to get her some toys and things out here. But for now, she can take a nap under the sun in the fresh air while Sophia and I talk business.

It was a little cool, so Sophia lit a fire to keep the baby warm. I let us enjoy the weather and silence for a few moments before bringing up Alessia's conversation.

"So, ummm, after the memorial, Less told me she wants to move."

"Oh! That's great. So she's gonna live in your dad's house then?"

"No."

"Oh. So you're gonna help her find a place?"

"Yes, but not exactly what you're thinking."

She gave me that "Watcher, here we go," face, and I knew I had to sweeten this deal even before I presented it.

"Dub and Maia live in a duplex. They live on one side and rent out the other. I think a situation like that will be ideal for us. Less will be right next door if something happens. We'll share a backyard so the kids can grow up and play together. It's perfect for us. And if Less ever wants to move out, we can rent it to another family and have another stream of income. It's a win win for all of us."

"Wait," she said. "You want us to move? We just got here!"

"True, but things change. It's no big deal. We'll still be in San Sequoia. Just another neighborhood."

"But I love it here," she said. "We spent so much time and money making it our own. Luca, you proposed to me here! I gave birth here! This is my home!"

Sometimes I forget Sophia lived in one place for a long time. Plus, she's a lot more sentimental than I am. This house is the sixth home I've lived in. Moving is no big thing to me, even though this particular home is special to me too. I dreamed about living here; I longed for it. But life hasn't turned out how we thought it would, so my priorities are different now. While I could accomplish my goals perfectly from here, I'd be more at ease somewhere else.

"I understand. We've had lots of great memories here. And I know you're concerned about me being too involved in Less' life, but I think the best way to minimize my time away from home is to have her as close as possible. I promised Mama I'd look after her, Sophia."

She let out a looooong sigh and sat in silence for a bit. I wanted to know what went on in her head, but I knew I needed to let her work it out within herself first, so I waited until she was ready to continue.

"What about this house? What will happen to it?"

I honestly wasn't too keen on selling it. I worked really hard to get it, and I didn't want anyone else to enjoy the fruit of my labor.

"We'll keep it," I said, hoping we'll be able to afford to buy a new house without selling this one. "Less won't need us so close forever. This duplex situation is just temporary, so we can come back here when it's over. Maybe we'll rent it out while we're gone."

Sophia winced at that idea.

"Or it can just sit here until we come back," I said.

She nodded and sighed.

"I don't want to move," she said. "I don't think it's necessary. But everything you said makes sense. I do want Desi to be close to her cousins. The thought of her having easy access to them sounds nice. And I know how much you love your sister."

"Thank you. I'm sorry we have to leave here, but I really do think this will be good for all of us."

[mysimsloveaffair]

Back at home, I stop at the mailbox to pay our bills. The money I make from SimTube daily more than covers the weekly cost of our bills for now. But as the views go down on each video, so does the money received. To be safe, I think it’s time to find a secondary, more stable source of income besides the money tree if I want to build a nest egg to pass down to our child.

But that’s something to consider later. Right now, it’s time to face the music and give my parents a call. Maia and I decide that a video call would be best, so I text Ma to let her know and then Maia and I gather next to my computer.

[drkmgs]

Make this a very special one please!

Can you do a fic about Reader is Wednesdays big sister and wednesday is still a little baby and is like 4-5, So Reader takes care of wednesday while her parents are gone. But wednesday is never happy around reader and only happy around others so she acts cold and mean to reader ( As usually ) and doesnt behave, So Reader gets angry and avoids her. and Wednesday gets EXTREMELY Murderous and furious because of it.

Older Sister

Wednesday Addams x Sis! Reader

Warning: flame gun.

I don't often get requests, so why not do it? It will be my first time writing from a female Reader's perspective but I still used "you". It isn't extremely murderous and furious for a Wednesday Addams, because I think her sadistic side would be built up by the time she grows up and Maia Weems is just the young Gwendoline Christie, I have been seeing her old pictures everywhere, so might as well use them...

Being an older Sister comes with big responsibilities because how do you expect a child to look after another child? Anyway, you just turned 18 and your parents thought it would be a nice idea to leave your 4-year-old baby sister with you while they're out of town and do what evil knows! Do you have any idea how to take care of a 4-year-old? No, but you tried your best to get along with your younger sibling, which you think would never happen.

You're about to pack your things and abandon this house. You can't imagine where this little thing gets her energy from. She's been running around the house with a machete in her hand when she's supposed to be in bed for her afternoon nap. Your patience is growing thinner and thinner over time.

The whole house knows if you're mad — a deafening silence would be present in the house, and it would make normal people mad and wish to be sent to an institution. So, when you had enough of Wednesday Friday Addams's shenanigans, you treat her like a ghost. She would say mean things to you, taunt you, and/or give you the cold shoulder, but you didn't care anymore.

You asked Grandmama and Uncle Fester to look after Wednesday since she would listen to them — while you do one of your school projects, which isn't due after the summer — not like any Addams, people seem to like you and were willing to partner with you. You were excited about Maia Weems coming over. She's magnificent. She's literally like her mother and she looks 100% like her, just years younger. You have had this crush on her since you both started Nevermore and you definitely want to impress her.

You were in the middle of doing your makeup when a little dark cloud opens your bedroom door. "I'm glad you realized you aren't a good babysitter and gave the authority to Grandmama and Uncle Fester." Wednesday had her hand barely on the doorknob. "but Mother and Father explicitly said YOU should look after me." Wednesday added and stepped into the room. You flicked your finger, causing her to be sent out of the room and the door slammed onto her face. This angered the little viper and she silently walked away, thinking what the best way to get her revenge was. The doorbell rang through the whole house and she looked outside the window, there she finds her solution to her problem.

You let Maia enter the house, and you could see her face light up at the sight of the house, you could tell she liked the aesthetic of it. You toured her around the house, not thinking about where your sister is, not until you see an incoming arrow, you were about to flick it away but Maia caught it in time. She was shocked but still had a smile on her face and that's when she noticed Wednesday hiding behind the door. "Oh wow, Who do we have here? Hi! I'm Maia, your sister's friend. What's your name?" Maia kneeled in front of Wednesday just a few feet away.

When Wednesday didn't answer Maia looked up to you for a little help. "That's Wednesday. My little sister." You introduced the 4-year-old hiding behind the door. "Wednesday? What a unique name, where does it come from?" Maia asked still looking up at you. "Our mother named her after her favorite rhyme 'Wednesday's child full of woe'." You looked at Wednesday, you gave her one of your signature signs — raising an eyebrow — meaning what was the arrow for? Wednesday didn't say anything but just shrugged and slammed her door, which caused Maia to flinch and lose her balance, but you were quick to hold her up. You received a thank you from her, which you acknowledged with a nod, but your brain was in full gear thinking about what is Wednesday up to.

Both of you sat in your room on the bed and it was awfully quiet. Too quiet for your liking. You had a gut feeling that Wednesday is up to no good. This didn't go unnoticed by the girl sitting beside you. "Y/N did you even listen to what I said?" Maia sensed your attention wasn't on her the whole time. "I'm sorry. What did you say?" You looked at her but still, you weren't fully attentive. Maia took your face in both of her hands and made you look her in the eyes. "I said, stop worrying about your sister" her face was inches away from yours which made you realize that and a slight blush creeps in on your cheeks.

That's when a little Wednesday Addams kicked the door open with a flame gun, which surprises Maia for a bit, then her facial expression changes to adoration. You were sitting there with your eyebrows furrowed and arms crossed at Wednesday. "Isn't she adorable, Y/N? Wednesday you look so cute with that flame gun." She said with a big full smile, which you love so much. This comment made Wednesday stop swinging the flame gun and turned it off. "Oh sweetheart, what's wrong? Did I say something bad?" Maia was confused seeing Wednesday's face start to distort into a...smile? and is that laughing? Is she laughing?

"Wednesday, you annoying little brat." You say which made her stop laughing. You snapped your fingers, which caused Wednesday to be trapped in an invisible rope, and floated in front of you. "Are you going to take your afternoon nap or I'll let Maia baby you until you get tummy aches from laughing?" You gently tell her, sure torture wasn't a big deal for her but laughing and a tummy ache is pure hell for your 4-year-old sister who's all melancholy since she was born. Talking to her gently was a sign that you mean what you said, being gentle in this family is odd enough, so when Wednesday got to hear your gentleness she had goosebumps all over her body, and made her tired.

The little girl yawned, still trapped in the invisible rope. Maia slapped your arm lightly indicating to let the little girl down, she stretched her arms to get the almost-asleep girl settled in her arms. You let Wednesday float above Maia's stretched arms and let her gently down. "I never knew you liked children?" Maia said rocking Wednesday in her arms. "I don't. I tolerate them." You move to stand up and show her Wednesday's room. Before Maia followed you, she looked down at the sleeping little girl and whispered "Be good to your sister, she loves you more than you know and I would appreciate it if you don't drive her mad, because I would like to marry her." The little girl squirmed in her arms, Maia knew Wednesday is listening and she knew this will change the relationship between you and Wednesday.

[mariacallous]

Moldova and Georgia both go to the polls at the end of October; Moldova for presidential elections on the 20th and Georgia for parliamentary elections on the 26th. The two countries share a number of similarities – beyond their justified reputation as world-class wine producers. They are both small, low- to middle-income countries that have struggled to consolidate their democracies and have experienced oligarchic political influence. Both are candidate countries for EU membership, with Moldova a step ahead having been invited to start negotiations. 

For both countries these elections represent a fork in the road: either move unambiguously into the Western world, or step back from it and become more closely tied to Russia again and its way of governance. However, the second option has caused yet-to-be-resolved territorial conflicts in both countries – Transnistria for Moldova, and Abkhazia and South Ossetia for Georgia.

Some would say it should not be such a ‘zero sum’ choice. Why must a nation choose between Russia and the West? While that may be a fair statement for countries like India or South Africa, it does not work for Russia’s former colonies, which Moscow wishes to control. 

Moldova and Georgia’s final similarity is that they face Russian interference and attempts to manipulate votes in their elections. In Moldova this has been especially brazen with the uncovering in September of a $15 million vote-buying scheme, including instructions on who to vote for distributed to over 130,000 citizens. Russian interference in Georgia’s election is less overt but at the same time more endemic considering its government has in effect been captured by pro-Russia forces.

Diverging paths

But this is where the similarities end and the contrasts become clear.

Moldova has a young, pro-Western and equality-conscious government, and 44 of the 100 MPs in its parliament are women. In this election, Maia Sandu is seeking her second and final term as president. The election is combined with a referendum asking the people if they wish to embed Moldova’s EU aspirations into the country’s constitution. The results of both the presidential election and the EU referendum will be close, reflecting a genuine split in attitudes (and debate) in the country. 

Georgia’s EU aspirations, meanwhile, are already embedded in its constitution – but that has not prevented Tbilisi from pivoting away from the West. Polls show   that around 80 per cent of Georgia’s population desires EU (and NATO) membership – rising to 90 per cent among the under 30s – but its government seems determined to deny them that future. 

Its new ‘foreign agents’ law is seemingly copy-pasted from Russia – and incompatible with EU membership. The election can be seen as a de facto referendum on the EU too. Georgia’s accession is suspended until its political crisis is resolved. 

Georgia faces other challenges to its democracy. Due to the country’s limited presidential powers, Georgia is in effect run by the unelected Bidzina Ivanishvili – founder of the ruling Georgian Dream (GD) party – whose relationship with Russia is murky at best. Judging by his recent speeches, Ivanishvili now blames the Western world not just for igniting the war in Ukraine, but also for the war in Georgia 16 years ago which resulted in the loss of 20 per cent of its territory at the hands of Russia. This extraordinary position is both factually incorrect and out of step with the Georgian people.

Both countries are now at a critical point. Whatever the outcome in Moldova, the election will pass off peacefully and competently. Its problems (Russia aside) are demographic and economic, and the country’s pro-Russian opposition is relatively weak.

Georgia’s election looks like it is going to be messy. Ivanishvili’s party will likely manipulate the election to a win. There is still a chance that Georgia’s pro-Western but also weak opposition will regain power and return the country to its European path. But if the manipulation by the incumbency is heavy, people will likely take to the streets in protest, as in April this year – and in the 2003 Rose Revolution.

Regime change via popular revolution shows political immaturity but the Georgian people may feel it is the only way they can have their views represented and their ambitions realised. 

Arguably what we are witnessing are the death throes of the Soviet Union, 33 years after it collapsed. Moscow’s rigor mortis grip is proving stronger than most imagined. With Ukraine still caught up in war, Moldova currently represents the region’s best chance to break free. Georgia’s future is the more uncertain of the two. This is an astonishing reversal of roles. Just four years ago, it was the darling of the EU and a frontrunner in its Eastern Partnership project, while Moldova lagged behind. 

The upcoming elections will reveal more about the future paths of Moldova and Georgia. But if these two countries tell us one thing it is that in a region pregnant with change, prospects can also change very quickly.

[im-out-of-it]

part 6 of season 2, episode 7 continued “how are thou fallen”

45. incoming migraine. you know how the show gives you good content like Malec, Maia, Simon, Izzy, Raphael and then they trick you with the clary and jace stuff 😭 you almost forget about them because you think hey this Malec stuff is really fucking cute and Simon and Maia have great chemistry and then BAM out of nowhere it becomes a toxic CLACE affair and you feel traumatized all over again ��

46. oh thank fuck we are back with the Simon and Maia stuff

47. see, now jace comes to ruin it (a little foreshadowing)

48. this was when Simon came in but look how cute they are together 🥹

49. Maia is literally all of us when jace breathes and has the audacity to exist

50. Maia is our hero

51. Simon: she scares me but also she’s hot

52. oh, a little bonding time with Simon and jace. my thoughts are with Simon at this time

53. Cleophas is such a lousy liar. she could learn from Izzy. if you want to be discreet, maybe don’t call the selfish child by the name only her father calls her

54. and of course clary doesn’t want to play by the rules because she has to do everything on her terms and only her way. she literally didn’t learn sit from all the shit she put Alec through in season one and how it affected him. Clary doesn’t care about the rules because they’re in her way. this is why I will never understand how she’s a leader in the books but hey that is CC’s creation and her self insert and apparently to her, clary and jace are the greatest. at least the show didn’t put Malec Maia Raphael Simon in the backseat just to torture and bore us with CLACE (thank you show)

55. jace isn’t that attractive like I don’t know why everyone allows him to think he is. if your personality is shit, so are your looks

56. oh we remember this little flashback

57. so jace can’t ever be there for Alec but he can try to help Simon pick up a girl. interesting but I mean, he is trying to be nice but he’s just mad he can’t have clary lmao

58. at least Simon is trying but he should just be himself. that’s how Maia likes him

59. and the funniest thing is since Maia has good hearing, she can literally hear Simon not be himself lmao the last person Simon should take advice from is jace. he should seek Alec or Magnus out. they’re the ones in a committed healthy relationship but that’s just me

I’ll start on 60 later today but there’s 18 ish minutes so I would say maybe two or three more parts left if I had to guess

[helenvader]

Writing Patterns

Rules: List the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern! Tagged by @demonscantgothere! Thank you! ❤️

I admit I cannot see a pattern, so if you can, please tell me!

One thing is blatantly clear, though - I always write for one fandom at a time.

When a Maia arrived in Middle-earth as a fiery star tracing its way through the sky, it was seen by all, but none knew who he was, himself included. (The Brightest Flame, fandom: RoP)

Tany rushed into the room like a commander of an army leading his men into battle with a song upon his lips, her smile so radiant that Bran couldn't help but mimic it. (Tale of a King, fandom: RoP)

She could not move, staring at the incoming wave of ash and fire rushing to enwrap them all in its deadly embrace. (Fire, fandom: RoP)

Her words are a salve for his aching heart. (I Killed Sauron, fandom: RoP)

He wields her pain like a blade, stabbing her with it. (The Storm, fandom: RoP)

Darkness is a wound throbbing with pain so agonising that it can tear one's mind to shreds. (Fallen, fandom: RoP)

Miss Prudence Wakefield's parents could not have given their eldest daughter a less suitable name. (The Evening Ride, fandom: Sons of Liberty)

He looked somewhat alien in your cousin’s farm, and yet he belonged there more than anyone else, for he belonged in the most unexpected places as long as he was near you. (Portrait of a Gentleman, fandom: Sons of Liberty)

Taking saints and our friends as witnesses, I speak words of love and duty. (Once Upon a Springtime, fandom: Shadow and Bone / Grishaverse)

Ivan knew from the very beginning that the girl was trouble. (Survivors, fandom: Shadow and Bone / Grishaverse)

I think by this time everybody has done it or has been tagged, so if you haven't been, feel free to do this even without having been tagged!

[noratilney]

Last 9 / Heads-Up 7-Up Tag Game

tagged by @wordspin-shares, thank you!

this is more than nine but I wanted to keep this whole sequence together, this is from my upcoming Riverdale fic

Sweet Pea hears his phone go off but ignores it. What could possibly matter now? He changes his mind when his phone continues to buzz. He pulls it out, meaning to shut it off, possibly forever, but he stops when he sees the screen reads 2 missed calls from Fangs. While he stares at it stunned, the phone rings again. Incoming call from Fangs. It rings twice before he manages to breathe again and swipes to answer the call. “Fangs?” He breathes. “No, sorry, it’s Maia.” Says the voice on the other end. “Look I’m really sorry to bother you but I was hoping you might be able to give me a ride home. My mom doesn’t get off until late and Fangs said you were planning to swing by the hospital anyway.” “Y-you’re at the hospital now?” Sweet Pea asks, his voice cracking. “Yes.” Maia says, a tone in her voice like she’s not sure why he’s asking. “With Fangs?” He asks. “Yeah, I’m in his room.” “They let you see him…” He trails off, unable to bring himself to speak the right words to ask what he does and doesn’t want to know. “Yes. Oh! It is a little past visiting hours, I guess. We were doing homework, well I was, and I don’t think anyone’s going to kick me out of here.” “What’s…what’s Fangs doing right now?” He manages to get out. He’s not doing anything, stupid, because he’s dead. “Currently?” Maia huffs. “I’m pretty sure he’s trying to land a gummy bear down my shirt.” There’s the briefest moment of dead air and then Fangs’ familiar cackling laughter can be heard in the background. Sweet Pea feels his heart restart and come back to life. “Yeah, I can give you a ride. Be there soon.” He ends the call, shoving the phone into his jeans with a trembling hand. Fangs is alive.

tagging: @carmens-garden, @starcrossedjedis, @asirensrage, @joaquinwhorres, @arrthurpendragon, and anyone else who would like to do this!

[yourhearthboundfairygodkin]

A message from Spirit this Lughnasadh . . .

The Virgo card advises us not to make decisions based on our fears. This is a time to be aware of our criticism of ourselves and others. Green Fluorite promotes logical thinking about incoming energies. Keep what serves the highest good, release anything that does not. Zincite encourages us to pay attention to the physical body, especially after any kind of interaction or activity. Remember, the body stores energy.

Onyx brings strength when it is needed. Clear quartz neutralizes background radiation and electromagnetic smog. Aventurine balances the nervous system and fosters well-being. Jasmine invites blessings, peace, and harmony, and raises vibrations.

Deck credits: Spirit de la Lune, Crystallary by Maia Toll, Eternal Crystals by Jade-Sky

[evermorehqs]

CATCHING MY BREATH, STARING OUT AN OPEN WINDOW

Vanellope Von Schweetz is based on Vanellope from Wreck It Ralph. She is a 21 year old imaginary friend, auto body painter, and uses she/they pronouns. She has the power of glitching. Vanellope is portrayed by Maia Reficco and she is taken.

CATCHING MY DEATH, AND I COULDN’T BE SURE

Vanellope didn’t remember much from her past life. Truth be told, she didn’t have a past life. Before she awoke in Evermore, she was nothing but a video game character, pixels on a screen --- nothing but a character, but one of the most beloved of all times. When arcades started dying out and downsizing, and the last version of her game was unplugged, their world should’ve gone dark. But instead, she awoke in an unknown town; an unknown world. All she really knew was her name, her age and her love of racing, and for awhile, that was enough. They quickly became involved with the local racing scene, but as hard as they tried, she never fit in with the others. She was already different enough... then the glitching began. Every time that she began to remember something, even if she wasn’t actively trying to, she would black out momentarily. When the blackouts happen, they were no longer in control of their own actions. They’d begin stuttering and moving erratically, sometimes worse than others. The longer she stayed in Evermore, the more often it began to happen. Doctor after doctor had no answers, and as she became a risk behind the wheel, she was forced to stay off the track. It was humiliating, and Vanellope couldn’t stand the look on Tiffany’s smug face as she pulled her car into the garage for the last time. The other racers, especially the blonde in charge, had told her that she didn’t belong... and she had proved them right. She was at a loss after giving up on the sport, unsure what she was supposed to do with herself. Losing her passion meant losing herself. Fortunately for them, the mechanic that fixed up her car when she crashed it knew of her love for cars and offered her an apprenticeship. Maybe he was only taking pity on her, but it was stable income, and the job gave Vanellope something to get out of bed for. It wasn’t the same as being on the track, working on the cars, but they found that painting them was the next best thing. Though they still longed to find a cure, to no longer be deemed The Glitch, they knew, as hard as it was, they would have to be content from the outside of vehicles for now.

I HAD A FEELING SO PECULIAR

❀ Matt Towe: Her boss, Van is more grateful to him than she could ever say. He’s such a silly man, but he gave her purpose when she needed it the most, and she’d go as far as saying he’s like the older brother or father figure she never had. ❀ Elizabeth ‘Luna’ Vaughn: They’ve recently gotten into the Hex Girls, and she thinks that Elizabeth is the coolest, most stylish, prettiest woman she’s ever seen. She can’t believe they’re breathing the same air! One day, maybe they’ll get the nerve to ask for her autograph... ❀ Garrett Gray: Vanellope doesn’t understand why he’s just so darn grumpy all the time. It’s not like their life is a walk in the park, but they’re still able to find reasons to be optimistic. It’s like he wants to be a jerk.

THAT THIS PAIN WOULD BE FOR EVERMORE

[darkmodechaoticlight]

The Deal

Evie had one deal with the Kings outside of the contract. And with Evies plan on gaining a reverse harem out of the kings and their little generals, she would do many things to solve her current no family no home crisis. The following would be the Kings (So far) reactions to her deal: NSFWISH, just mentions- no actual sex (for now maybe), Evies Fetish is Maiesiophilia (pregnancy fetish, but she is pregnant) so be warned, these devils will indulge her breeding kink.

SATAN Satan isn't surprised. He has had his fair share of deals that include first borns. But he already had his beloved daughter Maia. Does this mean Evie was offering to have another? More? Now that is a good idea. "I can't wait to see you carrying my child. Openly this time." The King of Wrath said with a sly smirk. This would be his first time enjoying the glow of pregnancy with her. Of course he would enjoy the act, but watching her build him another beautiful child, he couldn't fall harder in his life. Was this feeling love? And for the troupe on incoming children and herself to live on her own, he gifted her a home on a parcel of land. She had asked to live in Gehenna since Maia was born. And of course he obliged. MAMMON

Mammon was surprised. When she came into his office with the document, notarised and waiting for his signature. He looked up at her from his work and then down at the document. A clear smile lit up his face. His Mistress had decided to allow him the ultimate honour. He signed it in gold, and she followed in determined silence. He had to admit, the mere thought of children running around, each the most precious things in his life bar their mother did get the old hording devil's heart beating fast. "Shall we begin master?" He asked excitedly.

BEELZEBUB The King of Flies had already agreed to the contract the first time they fucked. He was addicted, He didn't need any sort of contract since all roads lead back to Evie at the end of a long time of wandering. Of course his clones kept her well bred and well fed when he was away. But she had perfected that gorilla grip that wrung each and every single drop of cum from him. And well what else in life could he ask for? "I hope this round takes," He said into her ear, content in their afterglow. LEVIATHAN Leviathan is a jealous man. He had been watching from his crystal ball in silence. Since the first kidnapping and subsequent memory invasion, it was like Evie was avoiding him. He wasn't only envious about the sex, but also indulging in her own fetish. He wanted a turn. So it took three years of Evie being in Hell for her to ask him. "You took your time," "I wish I could take more." She said witheringly. Fuck, he thought.

LUCIFER

Lucifer was blunt with his answer. Classically clinical. He does not want to risk her life and bodily functions to fufil a fetish. Don't get him wrong, he enjoyed the tears his girth could deliver. But he was holding back. Of course he was. But the thought of it lingers in the base of his mind. Maybe when he decides he will bless her with a child.

"We will see, you already give me so much," He said with a honeyed rumble.

[storiesbyjes2g]

3.198 Money, money, money

I don't stay in my feelings long because my life is great. Sometimes we think we know what we want, but the grass isn't always greener on the other side. I have everything I need. I love my lone child and my wife more than anything in this world. My sister and her children are the cherries on top of my life's parfait. I have friends whom I love, three beautiful homes, multiple streams of income, good health, and, of course, the fur babies. I don't need much more.

The rain stopped, so I jump at the chance to get started on the treehouse. I get as far as building a quick scaffold before Sophia comes out with an amazing proposal: we should invite Dub, Maia, and Tami over for a cookout. That is the best idea. We had such an awesome time together back in El Ciudad Enamorada, and we all insisted we needed to get together more often. But, of course, life does life things, and we still haven't scheduled anything. Sophia and Maia became good friends on that trip, and I'm glad she's taking the lead on this because, left up to me, we'd probably never do it. I'm always go, go, go, moving onto the next thing. I'm so glad my friends love me because I still suck at keeping in touch.

I give Sophia enthusiastic approval of her plan, so she goes back inside. I get back to building the treehouse, but within minutes I feel cool drops of rain rolling down my face. If this cat-and-mouse situation continues for the rest of the season, I'm never gonna finish this thing. Desiree and the kids will be teenagers and too big for it by the time I'm done. I stow my tools reluctantly and go inside. While it's on my mind, I text Dub to give him a heads up so we can start planning our next family shindig.

I find Sophia breaking in our new sitting area in the kitchen, so I join her. Shortly after, Desi finds us and enters the chat. It's in that moment I feel that release I needed about her going to school. I have no idea how or where that feeling came from, but when school starts back up again, I can let her go without being a worried mess. She loves hanging out with us, but I can tell she's eager to build her own social circle. I'll miss her, but I want her to thrive, and she can't do that hanging around us all the time.

"What do you think about giving Des an allowance?" Sophia asks.

"What's an allowance?" Desiree asks.

I don't say it out loud, but I want to know too. I mean, of course I've heard of it. Kids at school used to talk about how much money they made all the time, but I never understood its purpose. If I needed money, I just asked my mom, and she gave it to me. Most of the time, she gave more than I asked for.

"It's a set dollar amount parents give their children every week for doing chores and things," Sophia says.

I feel my face shriveling in confusion.

"But...shouldn't she do chores anyway because she lives here and should help us take care of the house?" I ask.

"Well, yeah, of course she should. It's not really about paying her to do the chores. It's more about teaching fiscal responsibility. My parents gave me an allowance, and it made me feel like I had more freedom."

I understand what she's saying, but I think we could accomplish the same things without the salary. My mom didn't just hand out money when we were kids. She started that in our adulthood when we could appreciate the extra funds. She always questioned our money requests, wanting to know our plan for it and all. We'd talk about it, and sometimes she would say no because it wasn't a good idea. I think those kinds of conversations are more valuable than letting a child have their own money to buy insane amounts of candy or whatever. But what do I know? I'm just a first-time parent with limited life experience.

"If you think it's a good idea, fine," I say. "I don't think it's necessary, but I'm sure she'd enjoy it."

I look over at Desi, and she's beaming, already spending the money in her head. I really hope this is a good idea.

[stateofsport211]

Maia Ch SF: Damir Dzumhur [3] def. Federico Coria [2] 6-4, 6-3 Match Stats

📸 ATP official website

Fefo had a brief moment in the beginning of the match when D. Dzumhur's forehands slipped, but the latter's accurate passes were regained in time to overwhelm the second seed, where even barring the physicality question from Fefo's quarterfinal match, it was still a solid showing from D. Dzumhur. Regaining his point construction played a pivotal role to his more proactive approach to the match, converting 5 out of his 12 break points even though Fefo had a 40% break point conversion rate out of his 5 chances.

Besides, D. Dzumhur also had a decent service performance even though both players did not score an ace. He won 62% of his first serve points, 4% more than Fefo, which helped him withstand the pressure even if the latter had his slight moments earlier in this match. However, Fefo's 2 double faults and some rushed follow-ups did not help except fading his second serve winning percentage to 34%, 20% below the third seed throughout the match.

Eventually, D. Dzumhur won his sixth Challenger title of the year in an almost flawless performance against fourth seed Francesco Passaro 6-3, 6-4 in the finals (match report incoming), securing his Top 100 finish, as well as the direct entry to the 2025 Australian Open. While it is still a mystery regarding his ability to regain his form further, it will be interesting to see how he maintains his form as it took around 4 years for him to get back on track. Still, a positive achievement!

[head-post]

Moldovan infrastructure minister Spinu resigns ahead of reshuffle

Minister of Infrastructure Andrei Spinu announced his resignation as a voluntary first step in the government reshuffle announced by Sandu in response to public criticism of the executive branch.

Spinu also stepped down from the ruling Party of Action and Solidarity (PAS). Since 2020, he has been a top adviser to Moldova’s President Maia Sandu.

His income declaration includes significant income from abroad: MDL 3.5 million (€175,000) out of MDL 4.1 million total income declared in 2023, according to Newsmaker. To explain his income, Spinu revealed that he deals with technical translation and admitted that his company has a turnover of several million dollars.

Sandu, who recently won his second term, announced last week that a staff reshuffle was imminent after promising such a move during the presidential campaign.

Economy Minister Dumitru Alaiba, Interior Minister Adrian Efros and Justice Minister Veronica Mihailov-Moraru will also be reshuffled, according to Moldovan media.

Read more HERE