#just tilts his helmet and scoots off

[rooksunday]

what about a version of ‘din discovers boba is a clone’ and:

side quest activates!

(yessss din loves a side quest)

and six months later din turns up at boba’s palace like hi hello i found forty eight of your siblings i hope you have clean sheets or whatever xoxo gotta jet there’s a bunch more waiting for a pick up at spacebucks and those old guys get cranky

[zedif-y]

omg!!!! joel + "afraid" maybe???

Joel isn't afraid of water.

He grits his teeth, forces a smile when Grian looks over at him, head tilted in question. He shakes his head.

" 'm good," is what comes out of his mouth, casual as anything. "Don't wanna get wet."

Which is true, you know. He's not lying. He's just... Kinda not feeling the whole swimming thing right now. Even though he said he would. Multiple times.

...Nothin' wrong with that. A guy can change his mind, can't he?

Grian looks unimpressed, "You went to a beach party to people watch?"

Ugh.

"You went over here to judge?" Joel fires back. An itching something creeps under his skin. "I'll put sand in your wings, Grian, don't think I won't." Grian huffs.

"Someone's tetchy today," He mumbles. He stretches his wings, large swaths of red feathers that catch the sun, "Whatever. Call me if you need me, I'll be over by- Mumbo, are you sunburnt already?!"

Joel watches him go, amusement on his lips as Grian runs off. He lets out a breath.

Why'd he agree to this, again?

("Hey," Impulse says. "So, the other hermits and I were planning something, and we were wondering if you'd wanna-")

("Yes," Joel blurts out, then— "I mean no- I mean! What're- what's the plan?")

(Joel fights a wince.)

(Nice save, idiot.)

(But Impulse just smiles—thank the gods—and goes, "Well, it's nothing fancy or anything. Just a hangout at the beach. Grian found this awesome spot-")

And Joel promises he was listening. He was. It's just, you know. Exciting? 'Cuz he's one of the new guys and it's a whole new server to get used to and they actually want him to hang out, and that's great and he's got plans for builds, farms, and, and.

Maybe, just- maybe. He wants this to work out. Really wants this to work out. Wants to be here to stay.

Because like— Joel's a Hermit now. A real, bonafide Hermit, even though it doesn't feel real. Even if it hasn't quite sunk in yet.

So. You know. What's the harm, right?

("I'll be there," Joel says at last, grinning in a way that he hopes is casual and not painfully eager. "When's it happening?")

Joel can't help but wonder if this is turning out the way he wanted it to, though.

The heat prickles at his skin, leaves him sweating and uncomfortable in his rolled up shirt and pants. He fans himself with the front of his shirt, just watching the others pass the time.

Hermitcraft's got a variety of members— Jevin laughs as xB drenches Keralis in a spray of water, halting when sand is thrown his way in return. ("You know that sticks to me!") Xisuma's in swim trunks and his usual helmet, fanning himself with his hands like it'll stave off the heat. Tango doesn't even break a sweat.

Something worms into his chest, an ugly, twisting feeling that curls around his lungs.

Joel grimaces. Oh, what the heck.

Biting his lip, Joel looks down at his chest, under his shirt. He doesn't exactly grimace, but there's nothing happy about his face, either.

Again, ugh.

Joel sighs, shaking his head. He goes back to people watching, ignoring the prickling discomfort under his skin. This is fine. This is fine.

At the corner of his eye— Pearl stands by the side, cracking jokes with Etho. They're both still wearing jackets. It makes something in Joel unfurl, just a little bit.

He tears his eyes away before they spot him.

The thing is— Joel doesn't, like, hate himself or anything. Not anymore, or at least not right now. And he's not afraid of water, despite how intensely he stared at the sea. It's just, it's...

Joel chews on his lip, picking off dried skin. The small tears bleed, droplets of blood on his tongue as he licks them away. He barely realizes he's doing it— and by the end, his lip twinges a little, reddened and sore.

Sweat makes his clothes cling to his skin. Joel wishes he hadn't agreed to any of this at all.

"You got room for one more?" A voice asks, jolting him out of his thoughts.

Joel turns to look— "Zedaph," He says, surprised. He scoots over his (frankly, way too large) beach blanket, "Yeah, I've got- yeah. You can sit."

Zedaph grins, "Just Zed is fine," He tells him, sitting next to Joel.

He's not in his usual getup right now, Joel notes. Not that he'd know. He's only talked to the guy twice, seen him in meetings. But something about the lack of a cardigan, although understandable, strikes Joel as a bit off— it's like seeing your teacher in casual wear outside of school. Makes sense, but it's kinda weird.

"You gonna swim?" Joel asks, just for something to fill the air. By the water, Scar gets pinched by a crab. Joel snickers.

Zedaph watches on, amused. "With how hot it is, I feel like I already am," He huffs. He rifles through his inventory, a pink fan appearing in his hand, "But no, I don't think I will. It's a nightmare on the wool."

Joel hums, makes sense.

"How about you?"

Joel frowns— he doesn't mean to, it just kinda happens— and says, "Uh, dunno. Maybe? I don't-" He makes a face. "I said I would, but now 'm not sure."

After a beat, Zedaph shrugs. "Well, you've got time," He says at last, and that's that.

They settle into people-watching, for the most part. Just watching the other Hermits bask in the sun, laughing and splashing around as the day goes on.

It looks— it looks fun. It looks so fucking fun.

Joel grits his teeth, the hand gripping the front of his shirt tightening without his notice. What the heck. What the heck.

Frustration gnaws at him, eyes caught on the way they all carry themselves, loose and carefree. Not at them, obviously, it's at his stupid, like, brain—

Joel lets out a breath, deep and measured.

He wanted to come. He said he'd come, join in and swim and whatever else. But now he's here and he's sitting in the shade and not even talking to Zedaph because he can't get a hold of himself, too worked up over nothing as he agonizes over the fact that his shirt is clinging to his skin and it's wrong and it's weird and it feels like, like.

Joel lets his gaze drop to the sand at his feet.

It feels like if they knew, if they saw him the way he saw himself, then they'd, like, regret inviting him here. Or something. Here being the server and the world and not just beach party.

Which, which is stupid and he knows this, but it's so hard to shake— like, how did he even get here, again?

Joel bites back a groan. Today is an awful day to have blummin' imposter syndrome.

For goodness' sake, now he's sulking.

After a while, Zedaph speaks up.

"Are you alright?" He asks, eyebrows drawn together. Joel wants to evaporate on the spot.

He shakes his head, then grimaces. Now he's acting like a toddler.

"Oh," Zedaph says, looking a bit lost. Joel can relate. "...Thirsty?"

Joel blinks. "Huh?"

"Sorry," Zedaph's cheeks flush pink, shaking his head, "I'm not very good at this. D'you want to talk? I can listen if you want."

Joel thins his lips, weighing his options.

He thinks that in another world, another time he probably would've just kept this to himself. 'Cuz he can handle this, he's not a kid. But somewhere along the line— the line of repeatedly bottling shit up, having it rattle and shake and eventually explode— he sort of. Well.

Maybe he realized that that doesn't work. Anymore.

So, "It's stupid."

Joel winces. Great start.

"I mean, it's not. I guess. It's just, new guy jitters, you know?" He tries to explain, watching as understanding dawns on Zedaph's face, a knowing smile that puts a balm on the static-y feeling in Joel's veins. "I'm sorta freaking out about, everything? Even the ones that don't make sense."

His cheeks burn red, "Like the way I'm all sweaty and gross and— I kinda don't want people to see, my body—?" He cuts himself off, his face pinched like he swallowed a lemon. "It's, you know. Not just because of gender things, but it is kind of that, but it's... Gods, Zed, just tell me they aren't gonna kick me out."

The last words come out in a rush, high-pitched and not squeaky as they tumble past Joel's lips. Zedaph blinks.

"Before I joined Hermitcraft, I was falling through the sky with my own sick on my head," Zedaph starts. Which. "Before that, the first ever thing I did was dig a hole in the ground and call that my home. And make an egg farm. But mostly the digging."

Joel tries very, very hard to find where this is going. (A fool's errand, from what he's heard about Zed, but still.)

"When I was asked to join Hermitcraft, my first thought was— really? Me?" Then, he laughs. "But they were serious! And I even asked Tango, then, if it was some elaborate prank. But it wasn't! They really wanted me on here!"

Zedaph gestures around them, "It's easy to get caught in your head, I get that. But we know what we're doing—" He pauses. "When it comes to this, at least. When the Hermits invited me, they knew what they were signing up for— vomit and worms and holes in the ground. And possibly a hint of death and malpractice. Of all sorts."

The knot, slowly unraveling in Joel's chest, starts to loosen up.

Somehow. What was that about death?

Zedaph nudges him, "So lighten up, yeah? Nobody's getting kicked out." Joel manages a smile.

"Thanks, Zed-"

"I mean, if people got kicked out for being sweaty and gross, there'd be no one left!" Zedaph leans in to stage-whisper, "What, you think Impulse didn't sweat in season 9? With all that lava?"

Joel snorts, "Point taken."

Zedaph grins. He leans back, resting on the base of the palm tree they've settled under.

"Take your time to figure out if you're swimming or not," Zedaph tells him, purple eyes glinting under flecks of sunlight. "But nobody will mind if you just stay here. Promise."

Joel nods. This time, smiling comes easier.

"Okay," He replies. He lets out a breath, watches as the sun shines down on the beach, "Thanks, Zed."

"Not a problem."

---

(Joel doesn't, in fact, end up swimming.)

(He watches the sun set on the horizon, eats barbecue at the makeshift grill Skizz brought. It's only the best thing he's eaten all day.)

(Joel laughs at something Gem said, so hard that his lungs kind of hurt.)

(Sitting around a bonfire, shirt smelling like smoke, his anxieties lay forgotten, for now.)

(Joel doesn't swim. Maybe he won't for a while.)

(But there will be more opportunities to try.)

[corazondebeskar-reads]

Kinktober 2023 - Day 22: Spiritual Possession/Sexual Exhaustion

worry not

haunted!Din Djarin x f!reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: Mand'alor Din Djarin is haunted by the Darksaber, and you suffer the consequences.

Warnings: Dub-con/non-con for both parties, Din is possessed, breeding, vaginal plug, p in v unprotected, delusions, hallucinations, unreality, ambiguous ending, non-consensual somnophilia, dead dove do not eat.

inspired by the Kinktober 2023 prompt list by @absurdthirst. I did not come up with haunted!Din or haunted!Darksaber and many great writers have built in this sandbox before me.

also on ao3.

You’re not afraid of your riduur.

Many are, especially now that the Darksaber hangs from his belt. But you’re not afraid, even if the way he’s looking at you sends a shiver through your body.

“Pretty girl,” Din’s thumb drags down your lips, holding the bottom one to your chin for a moment before letting it go. “Look at you.”

He says it like he’s starving, eyes gone so dark they look black. You’ve never seen him like this. It’s like he commands the shadows of the room to fall just so, light glinting off his teeth at an angle that makes them look sharp.

He watches you as you stare, but he doesn’t look you in the eye. Instead, he watches as you get wetter by the second, and his lips curl into a smirk.

He’s still dressed, despite having stripped you of your beskar as soon as you entered the room. Well, except for the helmet. He took that off as soon as yours was.

He wears his full silver kit, the beskar crown atop his curls. It’s a little weird, since he usually doesn’t care for it, but he keeps the fur-trimmed shimmering cape on as well.

“Do you find me pleasing, ner Mand’alor?”

“Pleasing? Cyare, I’m going to devour you.”

It’s like a pinch in the back of your neck. The words are alluring, but his voice is too sharp and his grin too wide.

He looms over where you’re knelt on the bed with your legs spread wide, his shadow consuming you. He tilts your chin up to look at him with one gloved hand. When you raise your gaze to his, your breath catches in your throat. You can’t even see the whites of his eyes anymore. It’s all black.

“Are you feeling okay?” you ask.

He slides his hand down to wrap around your throat. It rests there like a necklace. “I’m fine, cyar’ika. But I’ll be better when you’re full of me.”

He grins when he feels the whimper more than hears it, fingers tightening a little. Your lips part, seeking air, and he kisses you. It’s sharp and wicked, dragging you down into the dark. It’s exquisite.

Your body follows when he pulls away, leaning forward to chase him. He laughs and pushes you backward so you’re laid out on the bed.

“Get yourself ready for me,” he says, taking a seat on the vanity stool across the room.

You don’t take your eyes off him, as if he’ll vanish, only to creep up behind you if you look away. He moans his approval when you take two of your fingers and suck on them until they’re coated in saliva before pushing them into your cunt.

“No,” he snaps as you slide your thumb toward your clit. “That’s mine. You just worry about getting your tight little cunt open for me.”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. His words draw wetness from your pussy and raise the hairs on your neck and arms.

You’re not scared of him. You’re not.

“That’s a good girl,” he says, leaning forward to watch as you slide another finger in, spreading them apart to make more room for him.

When he decides you’re ready, he approaches the bed. You have to actively fight the urge to scoot back. He removes his gloves and reaches down to check for himself. When his fingers come back soaked, he pushes them into your mouth.

You lick and suck, chasing the taste of you from him.

“It’s going to be a long night, cyare,” he says, moving his hand back to you and rubbing gently at your clit. “I need you to be good and only cum when I do.”

“Okay,” you say. Din usually likes to make you cum as much as possible, but you try to hide your disappointment. You don’t want to be greedy. You can be happy with one.

“Oh, cyar’ika.” He laughs softly, dangerously. “Don’t worry. You’ll get your fill.”

You’re incredibly aroused, but you can’t shake the apprehension. It grows each time you look up into the ichor of his eyes.

“Um, Din?”

“Yes?” He sounds amused. Like he’s indulging you.

“Are you—well.” You don’t know how to ask. It’s such a ridiculous question. “Are you on spice?”

He doesn’t answer right away, tilting his head to study you. “Of course not, cyare. I’m just excited.”

“You don’t usually get this excited to fuck.”

“I’m always excited to fuck you, cyare. But this, this is special.” He climbs on top of you and continues rubbing your clit, increasing his efforts until you can’t remember what you were talking about.

All you can focus on is the rapidly building pleasure.

“Remember what I said.” He pulls his cock out with the other hand. “Be good for me.”

He lines it up with your entrance and pushes all the way in, groaning as he buries himself deep. It’s brutal, immediately. No buildup. The pleasure is as intense as his stare, teeth bared, nearly snarling as he pounds into you. He pulls your legs onto his shoulders and presses, somehow, deeper, shaking huffs of breath loose from you with each thrust.

It doesn’t take long for him to reach his limit. You’re too dazed now to recognize the warning bell. Din doesn’t do quick. Not unless he has to.

He pushes his thumb down on your clit and tells you to cum. You’ve been fighting it, so following his order is easy. He fills you while you arch, pushing against him, crying out for him.

You’re still coming down from the high when you realize he hasn’t pulled out. You can feel him, thick and hot, still stretching you to your limit.

He shifts, leaning over to stroke sweaty hair off your forehead. “My perfect riduur,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss in the wake of his hand.

And then he sits up and draws back. You cringe, anticipating his seed to spill out. If any does, you don’t know, because he pushes back in and resumes his intense pace.

Wrong, something calls behind the haze. But his fingers are back on your clit, and he’s got you folded in half. You can barely get enough air, let alone form a full thought.

It takes longer, this time, but he brings you over the edge with him. You can feel his cock pulse and twitch inside, can feel him fill you again.

He pulls out, shoving three fingers inside, and tells you to roll over. You blink up at him for a minute, chest heaving, and ultimately roll over onto your stomach. It feels good, having rolled to a dry and cool part of the sheet, and you think maybe you’ll fall asleep like that.

“Up,” he says, tapping your knees.

You groan.

“I thought you were going to be good. I know you can do it,” he says. His voice is smooth and soothing, and he rubs a hand over your lower back.

The encouragement helps. You pull your knees under you, so your ass is in the air.

“There you go. You’re taking it so well for us, cyare.”

You give a soft hum, warmth from the praise spreading through your body.

He pulls his fingers out and slides his cock back in.

You had a feeling it was coming, but it knocks a gasp out of you anyway. “How—”

But he shushes you. It almost seems sweet, but you can’t help but feel a little hurt. You peek at him over your shoulder, and he’s smirking.

In the end, all you can do is take it, because he’s not slowing down. His thrusts are deeper this way, and you can feel each time he knocks against your cervix. Usually, it’s a sensation you enjoy, but your cunt feels so swollen that you’re already aching.

“Din,” you whine. “It h-hurts.”

“You’re okay, ner riduur. I’ve got you. You can take a little more, right?”

You find yourself nodding.

“That’s my girl.”

His fingers on your clit are gentler this time, coaxing it out of you and murmuring praise. It helps, and you manage to cum when he does again.

When you come down, you’re crying.

“I don’t care if it’s better that way,” Din says. “No, I want to—no, roll back over.” He pulls his cock out and slides his fingers back in again. You wonder if you blacked out, because his words make no sense.

Turning over is harder this time. You’re stiff and still struggling to catch your breath. You collapse onto your back. Closing your eyes does nothing to stop the tears.

“Oh, cyare,” he says as he sees the wet streaks down your cheeks. He pulls his fingers out, and you’re so relieved when he climbs up over you.

He leans over and kisses your forehead before pushing his cock back in.

You whine, and the tears turn to sobs. “Din, please. I’m tired. I don’t know what’s going on with you tonight, but please.”

He doesn’t move, just holds steady in you. It’s strange. It hurts, but you feel comforted by the weight of him, by the fullness.

He wipes your tears and kisses you softly. “I’m sorry,” he says.

You think he means it, but the bright black of his eyes tells you nothing. You miss his brown eyes, his wide expressive eyes that he never learned to control, never learned to temper his emotions.

Something in your chest is shifting, foundation crumbling. “Din…”

“Yes?”

“Din, what’s happening? Why—why—”

“Worry not,” he purrs. “I love you, cyare, and we’re going to take such good care of you.”

Your brain is too fuzzy, it’s humming too loud, and you can’t parse what about his words sends you into a panic.

He’s shushing you again, his voice clear through the thrum. “You can sleep, mesh’la. You can rest.” He leans down to press your foreheads together, and your eyes flutter closed.

You dream fitfully. (You don’t dream at all.)

There are whispers in the corners of your nightmares, and the humming never stops.

You fade in and out, unable to tell the difference between sleeping and waking. (In all worlds you walk, it’s the same.)

Darkness. Whispers. That sound.

And above all else, there’s Din.

He murmurs to you, but you can’t make out the words. But he’s always fucking into you, his cock relentless.

You fall, in slow motion, through sheets of sheer fabric. It wraps around you, cradling you, (constricting you), calming you, (choking you)—

You wake in bed. The warm morning light fills the room, casting everything in white. The sheet is draped across you, and your riduur is fast asleep beside you. When you sit, he stirs and blinks sleepy brown eyes, holding a hand up to block the sun.

“Good morning, mesh’la,” he says, voice rough.

You stare at him. He’s bathed in the light. The sharpness of his features has softened, and when he reaches out to take your hand, his touch is warm and gentle.

He sits up to kiss you with petal-soft lips that hold none of the cruelty from the night before.

“Is everything okay?” he asks, eyes wide with concern.

You ache. Your whole body hurts, and your cunt feels battered and bruised. And… full?

You reach down to touch, but his hand clasps your wrist. The hold is barely there, you could easily pull away, but you pause.

“Leave it, please,” he says, suddenly unable to look at you. “They won’t like it if you take it out too soon.”

When he looks up, his eyes are black, for only a moment. He blinks it away, but his lips are pursed in a frown.

“You’re scaring me,” you say. You hate it; you loathe yourself for the way he recoils.

The way he buries his face in his hands, trembling.

You move to reach out to him but draw back. “Talk to me, cyare,” you whisper.

“I’m sorry. They said it was time. They—I tried.”

“Who are you talking about, Din?”

The humming grows louder, pulsating. You reach down to your cunt and remove what you can only describe as a bottle stopper, but larger.

“What have you done?” he says, looking at you in horror. “They were satisfied. They were going to leave us alone.”

He snatches it from you. “I need to put it back.”

“No!” You pull the sheet around you. “You need to tell me what’s going on.”

The buzzing is so loud. He’s speaking, but you can’t hear a thing.

All you can do is watch as inky black swirls like oil over his eyes.

You wake alone. (You're not alone.) The air is still, though you can see the wind rippling the Mythosaur banner outside the open window.

The room, though, is suspended, dust mites unmoving in the air.

No, wait. The darkness is moving. It’s just where the moonlight shines that remains.

You tilt your head, watching the shadows.

“Where’s Din?” you ask them.

“Quiet,” they hiss.

“What did you do with him?” You move to stand and are suddenly restrained, wrists chained to the bedframe. (You have been this whole time?).

“His duty,” the shadows tell you.

“Give him back,” you snarl, yanking against the restraints.

“He is weak. It matters not. Your body has accepted our gift.”

“What gift?” you ask, but you know. Din told you, last night. Before you fell asleep.

(But he didn’t. He couldn’t. You blacked out.)

There’s a splitting pain in your head.

“Who are you?” you ask instead. Din hadn’t known. He was afraid.

(But you know. Because they told you, while they used his body again.)

“We are you. You are us. Mhi solus.”

“I want to go home.”

“Worry not, ad’ika. You are.”

You wake. You’re in the medbay, a monitor droning at your bedside. (You wake. You’re snuggled up to Din in the bunk on the Crest.)

You wake. You’re in bed with him, but the room around you is shredded, and the sheets are soaked in blood. (You wake. Din does not.)

You don’t wake. Din sits on the side of the bed, your hand cradled in his. He pulls the heavy winter fur over your swollen stomach. You gasp, but when you look to him, your eyes are black. He presses the bolus. It only takes a minute for you to fall back under when the drug hits your veins.

(He wakes. You sit on the side of the bed, his hand cradled in yours. You pull the heavy winter fur over him. He gasps, and when he looks to you, his eyes are brown.)

You wake.

[loth-creatures]

Sabine's Story ? 👁️ -aaeeart

Ah yes, the elusive secret sabine's-backstory fic I slowly but surely chisel at on the rare occasion I have writing motivation. No promises on ever finishing it but I will publish at least some of it eventually I prommy

Here's one of my favorite snippets so far! There's another here, since two people asked about this one :)

A flash of color amidst the greenish steel caught Kanan's eye. At the end of the cluttered shelf was a Mandalorian helmet, painted indigo and magenta with a few bright red cartoonish symbols and a clan crest in deep maroon. It was easily the loudest paint job he'd ever seen on Mando gear. The rest of the set plus a folded holster containing twin blasters sat next to it, strapped together for storage.

Kanan pried his gaze away, trying to refocus on the task at hand, even as he was struck by how small the armor was; a youngling's set. Likely enough it had been stolen off a dead child's body. Bile rose in his throat as he found the crates of [stuff] they were after and magnetized them, slamming them together a bit more aggressively than was necessary. He started for the exit, blaster drawn and pulling the train of crates behind him. He made it five steps before he was turning around, cursing under his breath. It couldn't be left here. It had to be returned to someone even if the owner was long dead.

He intended to snatch it quickly and get the hell out of there as planned, but as he slid the bound pieces under one arm and reached for the helmet his feet remained rooted to the deck and Kanan found himself staring into the black of the visor as the ancient metal cooled his hands. Beskar had a weight to it. Not just physically, it was heavy in the Force. Heavy with the memory of fire and water and blood.

The click of a blaster behind him snapped Kanan back to reality. Well fuck me he muttered internally. Just had to lose it in the Force with his back turned. Like an idiot. He was about to whip around and use the damn helmet to smash the blaster away when his attacker spoke.

"Turn around, slow."

It was the voice of a teenager. Kanan knew it belonged to the owner of this armor even before he complied with their demand and saw a girl with bright pink hair, her young face streaked with blood. She couldn't be older than fifteen. Her dark eyes indicated the armor before meeting Kanan's.

“Give it to me, now.”

The kid’s voice was hard and steady, leaving no room for argument. Her stance was the same. She was hiding exhaustion and pain well enough to fool most people. But Kanan could see the slightest tremble of her hand in the way the blaster slowly tilted from its line to his heart, her stiff and slightly uneven posture, the tightness of her face that betrayed urgency and fear.

Kanan slowly bent to deposit the bundle of armor on the floor, raising his hands as he set it down. He used his foot to scoot it in her direction. The girl’s eyes and her blaster’s nozzle remained trained on Kanan, but he didn’t miss how hard her knee hit the deck as she knelt to retrieve the armor, or the effort it took her to stand back up. She put the helmet on, but didn't waste time on the rest, instead clutching it to her chest and backing away.

“Kid, wait.”

She did not. She fired a warning shot past his ear, then another shot took out the control panel for the door as she backed through it. The door slammed shut. Well. The beskar was returned to its rightful owner, mission accomplished. Kanan shook himself and redirected the crates towards the secondary entrance, raised his comm to alert Zeb to the change in route.

She won't survive she won't survive she won't survive

Kanan accepted the knowledge then shoved it aside, resolved to tell Hera about the little Mando. Chasing after her while she had no reason to believe that he wasn't one of her attempted captors would do nothing but waste both their time and botch this operation more than it already was. But the kid needed help. Something told Kanan it had to be them.

[primusdemoniccreatrix]

Ordinary Miracles (The Mandalorian x Reader)

(Almost done with another final thing so I am, of course, going to do something cute. Reader is gender neutral, also I made up a planet cause Marie Kondo said I could. GIF by @scifisblog)

Ordinary Miracles

The Mandalorian: Din Djarin x Reader

The Razor Crest sat at the top of a rocky outcrop overlooking a beach, the perfect place to be with the planet's climate being warm and sunny, and the need to stretch your limbs after the last hunt that your little three-personned group had embarked on six standard days ago.

Din's fingers moved across the dials, turning off the engines and other mechanical things as excited muffled whispers floated from the main hull up to his receptors, his helmet picking up on your rushed words and Grogu's squeals of joy as you made plans to go to the beach. He could hear the baby's giggles as your footsteps rang on the ship's floor, and he knew you must have been waiting for an opportunity for an outing like this on a warm, mild planet.

"Mando, are you coming? Day's not getting any younger, come on!" your voice echoed, playful impatience making him sigh behind his helmet in mock annoyance.

Finishing his last check, he climbed down the ladder to see you holding Grogu in one arm, and in the other holding a...basket of sorts. You were dressed in clothes for warmer weather, light and airy that looked as though it was vacation wear in its soft colours and entrancing patterns, but what caught his attention most was the smile on your face, warm and bright and raring to go.

"What's the rush?" he chuckled, helmet tilting towards the basket.

You waved a dismissive hand, laughing along. "Oh, you'll see, isn't that right, baby?" you cooed, the baby giggling as you tickled his chin.

Din shook his helmet, snickering as he watched you hurried off the ramp to get into the sun. He jogged right after you to keep up (and he too, missed the freedom of the air just a little bit), closing the ramp as he followed your path towards the beach.

The sand of the planet Krevis was not like the rough-textured grains of Tattooine, but softer spongey flakes that crumbled like snow that didn't melt. It was soft to the touch, and with water it made a solid flat that felt like volcanic pumice, but somehow spongey. Perfect for Grogu, who was already toying with the sand while you opened up the basket, setting up everything while keeping an eye on him.

Din watched you, a few paces behind, as you pulled out a cloth that looked like one of his old capes that you decided to somehow re-dye and repurpose, spreading the now peridot-green blanket atop the sand, then placing dishes from the basket to weigh the blanket down. You set up a small plate for Grogu, redirecting him from his little sand play to his plate, where you'd placed some berries and little meats and vegetable rations for him to enjoy, a display you took time in making. The child cooed at the food, already snapping up a berry you fed him, giggling as you warned him about the juice.

Din arrived in a moment, the jangle of his weapons alerting you he had come. He watched the display with amusement, seeing his little son enjoying his lunch.

"Here, Mando, there's a spot for you too," you called to him, scooting over as you patted the empty space next to you.

"You planned-" he began.

"A picnic? Why yes, yes I did" you chuckled, a hand on your chest clutching imaginary pearls, feigning haughtiness as he took a seat beside you, legs outstretched due to his greaves.

You took a cup from the basket, filling it with a yellow-looking liquid, before grabbing a mini-freezer unit, and using a spoon, scooped out some...frozen fruits into his cup, giving it a stir. You then added a small sprig of some herb, tearing up the tiny leaves and putting it into the glass, before using the spoon to press the leaves into the glass to bring out the flavour, it seemed. Din watched the fruit and herb bleed into the drink, creating a myriad of colours that looked like some nobleman's art collection he'd seen when he'd taken a bounty a decade ago. You seemed pleased with the concoction, before you took out a small pipe and placed it inside the drink, before handing it to him with a smile. "For you".

For him?

His confusion must have made itself known through the helmet, as you nodded once more and handed him the drink. "I know you can't drink without your helmet, so I added a straw; that way, you can sip the drink without moving the helmet, and it has the added benefit of not letting the fruity ice cubes freeze your lips" you joked.

His helmet tilted from your face to the drink in hand. You'd...made this...for him...and made sure he could enjoy it in public? It was quite...thoughtful of you, to ensure he could partake-

A sudden apprehension seemed to come over you, as you offered: "I-I can take it away if you don't want it, you don't have to if you don't want-"

"No, sorry, I- ah," he stammered, surprise still in him, "I'm just surprised. Thank you, I'd be glad to try it". That seemed to set you at ease, as you asked him to let you know how it tasted.

Taking the straw between his fingers, Din eased the small pipe under his helmet, locating it to his mouth and eventually wrapping his lips around the opening. He took a sip, cool liquid with bursting flavour settling on his tongue.

You were a Maker-damned artist.

The flavours all complimented one another, citrussy and sweet, the tang of a certain berry he couldn't recall on his tongue as the herb, he recognized you calling it 'lavendar', set a more floral warmth to the drink. He hastily drank in more, savouring the flavours.

You giggled, and he turned his helmet to you with the straw still in his mouth, a sight that sent more giggles from your lips, teeth starting to show in your mirth. He tilted his head in question. He looked so cute.

"I take it the drink was good? I, ah, I heard you gulping it down" you replied.

Din's face heated up in embarrassment. Was it that loud? Maker. He took the straw out of his mouth to speak, and to slow the kriff down. He nodded his assent.

"It was really good, I really liked it. Thank you".

You beamed at him, and for a moment he forgot the blunder he'd made earlier. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. You keep drinking, and let me know if you want more, okay? I'm gonna go to the water with the kid" you told him, nodding in return to him before turning to the baby, who'd finished his food on his own and was now in your arms as he toddled towards the beach, fascinated by the water and spongy sand.

Din watched you coo to the baby, holding him in the air and settling him close to your chest a few times, making the small green thing laugh in excitement. You kicked off your footwear, bare feet in the sand as you made your way towards the blue-violet water, courtesy of the chemical builds of the sand.

You made a small sandcastle with the child, Din watching you both as you played in the sand, child and guardian laughing in harmony with the waves splashing against the shore. He watched as you both wrote things in the sand, made a small sandcastle and decorated it with some made shapes and shells, before you both walked to the water, just enough that only Grogu's feet got wet and there was no danger of the tide. You guided him to walk along the water, Grogu laughing as he seemed to play with the speedy waves on the spongy elevated rock that slowed the tide down into miniscule waves. You ran alongside him, ankles in the water, splashing and shielding him from deeper water. You took him in your arms again, holding him to you as you waded out into knee-deep water, holding Grogu as he reached into the ocean and caught a small tadpole wiggling about. He became sad when he dropped it, but soon caught another one, and this time he slurped it up without a thought, and Din laughed to himself as he heard you scold a warning to Grogu who seemed to giggle at your distress, especially when you turned back to the Mandalorian he called father and made an incredulous face, shaking your head as you kissed the child's ear.

Din took another sip of the drink, watching you both play once more before he nearly choked himself.

The sun haloed you, Grogu sharing in your light as you both smiled at each other, and Din couldn't hold back his small gasp at the image. You looked so soft, so...glorious, like you were a saint, of divine origin.

You were the epitome of sun-kissed beauty.

You turned back to him and smiled, pointing to him and waving as you suggested Grogu and you 'wave to daddy!'

Din nodded at you both, heart fit to burst from the beskar and jump into your waiting hands as he lost all thought except of you and the baby you both called yours.

He smiled to himself, and back to you under his helmet, basking in the warmth of your radiant smile and glowing soul, hoping that his actions spoke more than he could, lost in you both, lost in his aliit, and he hoped the Maker made you aware, or that he could make it known how much he loved you both, and he hoped you'd stay with him, his aliit, to the end of his days.

Mando'a words:

Aliit- Mando'a, meaning: family

[bobathirstaccount]

Inspo from @die-herzlos-engel - I will always throw out the idea of Boba being with a rebel reader who understand he has no real allegiance to the Empire but is always trying to get him to join the cause 👌🏻 but they don’t have the doe $$$.

***

Priceless

Boba x implied fem!reader, a bit of angst, some action, no smut, dash of fluff

Words - 3,369

***

Boba shook his head, annoyed. “That’s not my going rate, and you know it.”

You wheedled, “I could add in sexual favors…”

Boba snorted a laugh, “Very tempting. But still no.”

Frustrated, you let the topic drop. You turned back to your drink. He tried to improve your mood, “C’mon, let’s go cheat at sabacc with those Imperials. We can take them for all they’ve got.”

Wryly smiling, you shook your head. You had to find a merc with a ship, and if Boba wouldn’t do it then you still had a big problem. You fiddled with your glass.

“Don’t fret,” Boba elbowed you gently, affectionately. It was his form of PDA. You decided to let it cheer you up. Scooting slightly closer to him, you lowered your voice in the loud cantina, “You wanna… spend the night?” This request was a calculated risk. You were sort of together. Sort of. You didn’t think he was seeing anyone else, but he was often like talking to a wall in regards to relationships and things of that nature.

“Hmm,” he started noncommittally, his helmet tilting. Your face fell before you could control it. You glanced away, disappointed.

“I mean, yeah. Okay.” He toed your foot, causing you to look back at him.

“Okay,” he repeated.

A smile formed on your face. Suddenly the noise and color of the bar was boring. “Let’s go?”

He nodded once, shifting his weight off the bar top. You turned and strode out of the bar, Boba trailing casually behind you.

When you had walked a few blocks, he sidled up to you. “No one’s following us,” he commented softly. You smiled. He was ever alert.

You allowed yourself to glance over at him. He was watching the crowd as you walked. You longed to grab his upper arm and lean on him, but decided against it. He remained oblivious.

You reached your apartment and took the dingy elevator up. It creaked to a stop on your floor. Stepping out, you made your way to your door. Feeling safe, you keyed in the code to your unit without hesitation.

“You should be more cautious,” Boba’s voice held a tone of concern.

“I am when you’re not with me,” you commented, stripping off your jacket. You heard Boba set his gun down on your coffee table. His other weapons clattered as he added them. It was your rule that all weapons had to be deposited there safely. His helmet stayed on. You had yet to see what he looked like under it.

“Well,” he started. You turned to him, your jacket on its hook.

“Well… now what?” You teased.

He sauntered up to you, his hands going to your hips. Butterflies danced in your stomach as he found the hem of your shirt and pulled it up.

Tossing it aside, he grabbed your ass and yanked you to himself.

“Now… I’m gonna fuck you,” Boba said, voice low and husky with lust.

***

You knew he was gone before you had even opened your eyes. Your bed was small, and he was not pressed up against your back. You sniffled a bit, but didn’t cry. He never stayed long in the morning. You sighed and opened your eyes, sitting up. Missing him, you sent him a short message about nothing.

Setting your data pad aside, you got up to shower and eat.

Washing your face in the fresher, you remembered your most pressing problem. You had to find a merc with a ship. You decided to reach out to your ex, who was a second class merc. Maybe he knew of someone better than himself. It was worth a shot.

***

“Look, I am here professionally only,” you tried to clarify again.

“Sure, sure, baby. Let’s get it right: you missed me.” Julius sat back in his seat, smugly folding his arms across his chest.

You sighed, aggravated. You had known this was going to happen; you just hadn’t thought it was going to get to you that much. “No. I just wanna know if you’ve got any contacts I could get in touch with about a ship.”

“Not until you admit you wanted to see me in person. We coulda just commed, but you agreed to see me pretty quick.”

You got hot, embarrassed. Had you? “Well, at any rate, do you have any contacts for me?”

“No. But that’s not why we’re really here.”

Annoyed, you silently stood and grabbed your jacket. You had wasted enough time. Turning from the table, you decided to go hang out at your regular cantina. Boba might be there.

“You tired of being Fett’s side piece yet?” The casual tone caught you just as you were about to be out of earshot.

Your anger flared up immediately. “What’d you say you karking asshole?” You stomped back up to Julius. He seemed momentarily alarmed, then satisfied. “You know everybody knows that, right? You’re his lil’ over eager fuck piece?”

Enraged, you flipped his drink into his face. He sputtered, but laughed, “You’re only so mad because you know I’m right!” You slapped him as hard as you could, then realized you had to retreat. You were about to cry. Turning away from Julius, you stomped out past the other patrons to the street outside. It was drizzling a bit. Pulling your hood up, you sniffled as you slowly made your way to your regular spot.

***

You slunk up to the bar, behind Boba. Several gorgeous Twi’leks had circled around him. You tried to overhear their conversation.

“C’mon,” one of them reached out and grabbed him by the neck. She leaned in and kissed his helmet. “Don’t you wanna have a foursome with us, daddy?”

Boba pulled away from her, “No.”

The girls cooed and whined to him, rubbing his chest and arms. You held your breath, waiting to see how he would react to such a tempting offer. He turned to you abruptly.

“Did you really think you snuck up on me?”

You blinked, surprised, staring into his helmet. He repeated himself.

Blinking again, you sputtered, “N-no.” You were feeling sensitive from Julius’ comments. Boba’s helmet tilted very slightly. He seemed to be studying you.

“You okay?” He said after a moment. He brushed a Twi’lek hand off his chest.

You felt exposed, but tried to shield yourself, “Yeah, just it’s wet out. You know I hate rain.” He nodded, but didn’t sound convinced, “Okay, well, you want a drink?”

Not knowing what else to do, you nodded seriously. He raised a hand. The droid barkeep was there immediately. “Sir?”

“What she wants,” Boba nodded at you, brushing another hand off his chest.

“Just some Corellian ale, please,” you murmured. The droid shot off to fulfill your order.

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong?” Boba took half a step towards you. The Twi’lek followed him, still cooing about a foursome.

“Kark off,” you hissed at them, suddenly furious.

“Ooh, who the fuck are you anyway?” One of them spat back. Boba turned to her, “Go away. Can’t you see we’re having a private conversation?”

She frowned, “Okay daddy, but we’ll be back…” The women fell away into the crowd.

“Who the fuck am I, anyway?” You asked, looking into his helmet.

The barkeep dropped your ale off. You waited for Boba to respond.

“Uh,” he started unpromisingly. “You, we’re, uhm, friends.”

“Friends?” You asked softly.

“Yeah?” He asked back.

Julius’ words rang in your ears. You chugged half your drink to avoid crying in public... In front of Boba. He started to speak, “Don’t be upset-“

You couldn’t bear to hear a bumbling response, so you simply turned from him and bolted into the crowd, towards the door. You pulled your hood up snugly again once you were outside. Crying a bit, you turned towards home. You hurried along, wanting to be safe at home.

After a couple blocks, someone came up beside you. Warily, you looked over. It was Boba. Surprised, you blurted out, “What’re you doing here?”

“We’re uh, still talking,” he said simply.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I have someone for you. For your… job.” He spoke swiftly.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, so I’ll DM you the details. I’ve worked with them before. They’re a pretty good smuggler.” You were relieved about that situation, but confused and sad about the non-conversation at the bar. Boba sidled up closer to you. “So.”

“So?”

“So, now you can relax about your… Rebellious streak.” He seemed pleased with himself.

You were thinking about you ex’s words. “Hm.”

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong yet?” He elbowed you gently.

“I don’t want to be your side piece.”

“What?” He seemed stunned.

“I don’t wanna be a side piece.”

“You’re… not.”

“What am I?”

“Ah. I mean do we need to label what we’re doing?”

“Yes.”

He became quiet. You walked together in silence. Finally you reached your door. You keyed in the code and it slid open noisily. You turned to Boba, “Well?”

“Can I come in?”

“You don’t have anything to say?”

“…I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Yeah you do, you just don’t wanna say it.” You were tired. You were angry. You were hurt.

He stood there stupidly.

You turned away from him and let the door skid shut behind you.

***

NAME - EM Wrex

SHIP - Salvage Hauler

RATE - I negotiated 30k credits for you, you’re welcome

CONTACT - 92.768.098876 (she’s expecting your comm)

R u going to the cantina tonight?

You sighed and set down your data pad. You had spent all of last night crying into your pillow. Missing Boba. Wishing you had just let him in.

But now you didn’t want to talk to him. You got up to have some breakfast.

Over your coffee, you commed your Rebellion commander.

“Well this is all great news. You have our smuggler with a day to spare, and at 3/4 budget. I’ll send you the funds. Pay half before, half upon completion. Everything else going okay? How’s your cover holding?”

“Perfect,” you commented absentmindedly.

“Hm, I don’t like your tone. Tell me what’s going on.”

“Oh, just my… boyfriend,” you lied.

“Ah, I’m sorry to hear that. Well, stay focused on the mission for now, kiddo.”

You nodded, “You got it. I know what to do.”

With that, you said your salutations and ended the call. Sighing, you sat back into your sofa. After a moment, you commed your smuggler.

It rang for a moment before an attractive human woman picked up. “Oh, you must be my contact for The Job,” she said immediately.

You nodded, taken aback a bit.

“Fett said you’d be in touch soon. So, the rate’s 30,000 credits. Half up front, okay?”

“Yeah that’s fine, just DM me your payment details and I’ll take care of it today.”

“Yeah no problem. Hey, so what we smuggling?”

You smiled wryly. Boba hadn’t even told her what she was smuggling?

“You didn’t ask?” You evaded.

“Oh, I’d do anything for him, you know how he is babe,” she shrugged.

Immediately incensed, you tried to control your tone, “Oh, yeah, totally… so, how long you known him?”

“Oh, awhile, now… how about you?”

“Same,” you murmured.

“Yeah, he’s so funny, he’ll pull up outta nowhere on you.”

“Oh yeah I know, huh,” you said weakly.

“Anyway, see you at the hangar… I’ll send those deets along with the payment info.”

You nodded and hung up. Sighing, you got up to shower. You decided to try to surprise Boba at the cantina.

***

You watched as Boba let the woman slide her hand up his arm. She was looking at him intently, like he was the only other entity at the establishment. They spoke for a few more moments before she took another step into his space. His helmet tilted, but he didn’t push her away.

They talked some more. You decided you had seen enough. You stood to exit, finally catching Boba’s eye. He straightened immediately. You turned away and calmly exited the cantina, resigned.

You made it a couple blocks before someone was at your side. You had been daydreaming about Boba, not really paying attention. You were gently elbowed.

You stopped in your tracks, turning towards Boba. He stopped short. After a moment of awkward quiet, he asked, “You and my contact hook up?”

“Did you and your contact hook up?” You shot back.

“Not recently…” he muttered. Your eyes got big before you started to cry.

“Wait, I mean not since I’ve known you…” he tried.

You cried harder.

“That woman and I, nothing was going to happen. I came there to see you. I was just killing time waiting for you.”

You kept crying.

“Look, I… we… um,” he stumbled.

You smacked his helmet, hard, as you screamed, “Go back and kill some more time!” You ran off sobbing. He didn’t follow you.

***

Elize, as it turned out her name was, picked you up promptly at 0700. You were to meet up with the Rebel ship at 1145 exactly to pick up the cargo, a Rebel spy who’d been exposed. He’d managed to get smuggled this far; all you had to do was take him a bit further back to the Rebellion headquarters.

“So, how long you been in the smuggling business? Fett told me you’ve been a bootlegger for a while, but was really vague other than that. You know him.” She laughed.

“Oh,” you quickly pulled up your cover story in your mind, “Been at it for just about 5 cycles. It’s an exciting biz, moving other people’s stolen goods.”

Elize laughed again. “I like you.”

You forced a smile.

“Okay, here we go, jump space for five minutes and then we just slow poke it the rest of the way to avoid detection, got it?”

“Yeah.” You settled back into your seat. You were entering heavily guarded Imperial space. It was going to be a tense ride.

***

You could tell things were going south. Your passenger had been successfully picked up, but you were detected on the way back. The Imperial Cruiser hovered near you in space as Elize tried to talk her way out of getting tractor beamed.

“Just gun it,” your cargo insisted from behind you. You shushed him as she bullshitted.

“They’re gonna take us. That’s death for me and death for you two for helping me. Now, gun. It.”

You slapped him in the mouth, “Stop panicking and let the women handle it.”

Elize continued to talk out of her ass.

Ultimately, it was to no avail. “We’re requesting you to come in. Go to cargo bay 127 for inspection and processing. Should only be a couple hours before you’re back on your way, if you’re who you say you are.”

“Okay, sure,” Elize sounded amiable enough. But you could tell she had started the computer calculating light speed coordinates.

She inched her hauler forward casually. Picking up a bit of speed she headed towards the entrance. Your cargo became a problem again. You turned to shush him as the ship dipped and made a break for it.

You thought for half a second you were going to be clear. But the tractor beam grabbed you, abruptly halting your escape. The Imperial ship pulled you into its maw.

***

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you denied everything to the Interrogator.

“Well you were on a ship harboring a fugitive. So you know something,” she insisted. You thought of Elize and wondered how she was fairing. You knew your fugitive was probably doing terribly.

“Do we need to bring in an Interrogator droid?”

You doubled down, “It’ll be a waste of resources. I don’t know anything.”

“Well I’m ordering the droid anyway,” she said with casual finality. She stood and left you chained to the table.

You sat there, trying not to panic. You didn’t have advanced training to withstand this sort of… pressure. Would you fold? Were you going to die?

After an indeterminable amount of time, the door slid open. A stormtrooper walked in. He came over and undid your binders. “This way,” he said, turning. You followed him out of the room and down a long corridor, past many other troopers. You walked into a hangar. Elize’s ship was there, locked down. You noticed another ship across the way. Could it really be?

You squinted as you quickly approached. It was. Boba’s ship. Would you see him? Would he see you? More importantly, would he help you? The trooper stopped short at Slave 1’s ramp. “Onboard,” he indicated. You trotted up into the ship, following the trooper. He closed the cargo bay door behind you. Before you could say anything, he had disappeared into the ship. Confused, you stood stock still and considered your limited options.

A familiar dented helmet appeared from around a corner. Shocked, you felt your mouth fall open. He sauntered up to you, “You didn’t think I’d let you get into any real trouble, hm?”

“Were you the stormtrooper?” You asked incredulously.

He laughed, “Of course.”

“So…” you looked around, “where’s Elize?”

“Oh, she’s in big trouble. I can’t help her. But you, you made it easy.” He nudged you, “You gave a fake name. Easy to make you disappear. Easy to loop the security cameras, so it looks like I’ve been on my ship the whole time, just refueling. And now, we’re gonna take off and get outta here. Easy.”

“You did that for me?”

“Of course.” He was matter-of-fact.

“…why?” Your voice was small.

Boba’s helmet tilted towards you. “I love you.” He turned away from your stunned form and disappeared into his ship, “I’m getting us out of here. Come sit in the cockpit with me.”

Too shocked to speak, you silently strapped in next to him. He brought his ship to life and took you out of the cruiser, just like that. Once he was a casual distance away, he entered jump space.

You turned to each other. “Home?” He asked softly.

“Yeah, please,” you paused for a second, then asked, “how’d you know I was in trouble?”

“I heard that Elize’s ship was taken captive by the Imperials. I’m welcome to come and go, so I just parked and walked in and got you.”

You laughed, astonished. “That takes some balls.”

“Well I’m me. And, it was you.”

You shook your head, “I failed my mission.”

Boba shrugged, “But you’re okay. You live free to rebel another day.”

“Won’t you join me? You could do so much good. See how easy all this is for you?”

“I told you, if you get the credits I’m there.”

You snorted, annoyed. But then you remembered what he had said in the cargo bay. “Do you really love me or are you just talking out of your ass?”

He stiffened, “I do. Let’s not dwell on it.”

“Dwell on it? We’ve barely talked at all!”

He shrugged, then took your hand. Interlocking your fingers with his, he murmured, “I fell for a Rebel, what can I say.”

“You could say you love me more often.”

He sighed, “I’ll try.”

You crawled into his lap, where you stayed for the rest of the way home.

***

You woke up. Exhausted from your harrowing experience, you debated going back to sleep. Then you realized you were not alone. A strong arm was around your torso, holding you tightly. Delirious, you wriggled around to see what was happening. Boba’s sleepy voice sounded, “What’s wrong?”

“Huh?” You asked, surprised. He was still here, and it was light outside.

“What yah mean huh? You’re the one waking me up…”

“You’re still here; you’re never here,” you blurted out.

“I know. I thought… you would like it.”

“I do…” you rolled over and planted a kiss on his helmet.

His hands haltingly went to his head. He pulled his helmet off. You kissed his lips. They were soft and warm. He pulled you on top of himself. You looked at each other.

Smiling shyly, you mumbled, “Love you.”

Boba blinked, but responded, “I love you.”

You laid your head on his shoulder and brought a hand to his cheek. “Getting you for the Cause is too expensive, but having you is priceless,” you murmured.

He laughed, his chest heaving. “You’re what’s priceless.”

You snuggled into him and fell back to sleep.

**

Ch 2

[mykingdomforasong]

din/han "you'll have to teach me" from the kiss prompts 😭

[send me a kiss prompt]

Han had come to appreciate the gentle forehead touches that Din called kisses. The beskar was cool and smooth, and Din was careful to let Han lead so he didn't accidentally concuss his partner. And when Han opened his eyes mid-kiss, he was so close to the tinted T-shaped glass that he could see Din's eyes -- brown, he knew, when they were open.

There wasn't a clear timeline for when - if ever - Din would take off the helmet, and Han tried not to press the issue too much. Still, he'd started planting regular kisses to the spot on the helmet where Din's mouth would be, gently caressing the soft skin of Din's barely exposed wrists as he did.

Din wasn't ignorant to his partner's desires, and, he confessed, his own desires were increasingly clashing with his religious code.

"There are Mandalorians who walk both ways. Our current Mandalor does," Din said. They were sitting out in the grass, watch Grogu do flips through the air with Luke.

"Don't feel like you need to walk some other path just for me," Han said.

"It wouldn't be just for you. It'd be for me. And Grogu," Din said.

"Well, if it's for Grogu ..." Han scooted closer. "You just let me know when."

Din snuck into Han's room once Grogu was in bed, still armored and helmeted, with a long strip of fabric in his hand.

"I though ... this might be a good step," Din said. He sat on Han's bed, his gaze lingering on Han's bare chest for a moment, before handing the blindfold over. Han tied it on himself and promised he couldn't see anything.

Han's heart rate picked up when he heard Din slip his helmet off.

"What do you want to do first?" Han asked.

Din responded wordlessly by pressing his naked forehead to Han's. His warm, soft skin was a welcome change to the cold, unyielding beskar. Han felt Din's warm breath again his face, and he lifted his hand, gently resting it on Din's cheek. Din leaned into the touch, exhaling deep as he did. Han knew there was a mustache there somewhere, and he let his thumb explore until it found it. He dragged his thumb lower until it brushed Din's upper lip.

"Can I kiss you the other way?" Han asked.

"I've never done it before," Din said. Han expected that. "You'll have to teach me how."

"Don't worry hotshot," Han tilted his face, parting their foreheads but bringing their lips closer. "I'm a pretty good teacher."

[dumfanting]

25 Days of Life Day: Hot cocoa and fireside cuddles with Din and Grogu

Prompt response for @kaminocasey

I’ve actually never written anything related to The Mandalorian before, but I think I’ve done alright.

—

“Geez, it’s really coming down out there,” you mumble to yourself, sitting in a window seat of the small cabin you’d convinced Din to let you all stay in for a few days, Grogu in your lap. He makes a concerned cooing sound and looks up at you for a moment before leaning closer to the window. “He’ll be okay buddy, he’s got all that Beskar,” you say. You think for a moment. “Tell you what, let’s get a fire started up before he gets here, just in case he is cold, yeah?” you say. The kid looks back up at you and burbles happily, raising his arms so you’d pick him up. You do with a soft smile and stand, holding him close to your chest.

After a few minutes, you’ve managed to start a fire and keep it in the fireplace where it should be, warming the small room significantly. You set Grogu down onto the floor and ask him if he can find some blankets for you all while you make hot cocoa in the nearby kitchen. He tilts his head slightly, then closes his eyes, and a nearby armoire opens up, quilts and fleece throws spilling out of it. You giggle as you pick him up again. “I keep forgetting you can do that,” you say, and he also giggles at you.

A few more minutes pass, and the two of you are seated comfortably in a makeshift nest of cushions and blankets non the floor near the fireplace. The stillness of the scene is abruptly interrupted when the door leading outside swings open and Din, with a good dusting of snow on his helmet and shoulders, stumbles inside. Grogu squeals as the Mandalorian walks further into the room, stomping snow off of his boots. “Hey buddy,” he says as he brushes off his shoulders. “You two look comfortable.” Grogu squeals again and looks back at you with a grin.

“It’s a good thing you had this already planned,” Din says as he starts to strip off the snow-dampened layers he’s wearing. “The heater went out in the ship again.” You, with the kid in your arms again, stand and approach him, smiling softly. “Grogu and I made sure to warm up the place before you got here,” you say, carefully holding a hand to the side of Dins helmet, ignoring the chill of the cold metal. “Why don’t you take a quick shower upstairs, we’ll wait for you back here.” Din nods and briefly presses his helmeted forehead to your bare one before ruffling the top of Grogus head and moving up the creaking wooden stairs.

When he returns about ten minutes later, he finds the two of you wrapped up in the nest on the floor. Grogu is asleep in your lap, and there’s a tray nearby with two steaming mugs and a small pile of marshmallows on it. You hear the stairs creak and turn towards the sound, smiling softly at Din again and scooting over to make room for him on the floor. He plops down next to you with a groan, waking the kid, who reaches for him. You hand the child over, then tell Din that one of those mugs is for him. He cocks his head at you, Beskar helmet reflecting the firelight, and you chuckle. “I know, but I think this’ll work,” you say, shifting a little and pulling a length of heavy, dark canvas out of your pocket. You carefully wrap it around your eyes and tie it off, blindfolding yourself pretty effectively.

“If you insist,” Din says. Shortly, you hear the hiss of his helmet being taken off, and a light thud when he sets it aside. Without thinking, you move to hand him a mug, but he gently grips your wrist, stopping you. You remember the blindfold and pull your hand back. You can hear the tray scrape across the floor, then the soft sound of Din taking a few small sips of his cocoa. “This is new,” he says, and you look at where you think his voice came from and smiled softly at him. “It’s a tradition on my planet, whenever it gets cold like this,” you say. Din takes another sip and sighs. “Well I like it. Though I think he likes the marshmallows more,” he says, referring to Grogu, who makes a pleased chirping sound, slightly muffled by what you can only assume is a mouthful of the marshmallows.

Din wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you a little closer to him, then pecks your temple. “You were right, this is a lot better than sleeping in the Razor Crest,” he says softly. You sigh in agreement and lean back into his shoulder a little. There’s suddenly a very small hand placing something into yours, and you give the object a slight squeeze. Grogu was insisting you have a few marshmallows too, it seemed. You pop it into your mouth and smile when the child slaps another one into your hand. You could get used to this.

[daddywanken0bi]

Sorry my phone freaked and sent my request without a request 😢 I was gonna ask for a jealous Obi-Wan. Something cute like someone flirting with his love and she has to remind him that she’s all his. ❤️ please and thank you darlings ❤️

oh, darling, this is perfect. just the thing to get me out of my writing slump. here is about 2k words of jealous Obi-Wan dealing with his ~feelings~. -Jess

warnings: slight mention of sexual acts, but mostly just cuteness

You’re waist deep under the belly of a shuttle when they return. The telltale hum of a ship entering through the hangar bay shields pulls you out of the rhythm of cranking and adjusting and screwing. A rush of wind gusts as the craft settles onto the gray tarmac, and a metallic clunk jostles you. You snag a nearby pipe with a hand to steady yourself and shake your head. 

Those clones never put a ship down nicely.

Your snug, oil-crusted boots squeak as you scoot yourself out from under the shuttle, careful not to bonk your head against any of the loose metal. You’d have thought landing would be one of the first things they taught in basic training, but you always seemed to be repairing the underbellies of ships. Especially in the 212th.

The shuttle door opens with a hum and a hiss, and you lift your head in time to see Anakin stalk across the hangar, his face stormy. R2D2 is close behind, offering reassuring beeps and blips. 

“Already on your back for me, sweetheart? How thoughtful,” a gruff voice teases from your left.

You raise an eyebrow and drape your arms over your bent knees as you sit upright. “Yeah, right. Nice try, Cody.” You squint in the suddenly bright light as his orange-painted helmet comes into view. Jerking your head in the direction Anakin just left, you wipe your hands on your pants, trying unsuccessfully to remove the grease. “What was that about?”

There is a slight hiss as the commander removes his helmet, tucking it under one arm. The other hand he offers to you with a smirk. “Oh, you know how the general gets when he doesn’t get his way.”

You take his calloused hand and lift yourself up with a grunt. A stray hair falls in your face and you blow it back. “Right. What was it this time? Actually sticking to the plan for once?”

Cody’s head tilts back with his raspy laugh. “That’s pretty close. I’ll let the other general fill you in. I’ve got some mission paperwork to fill out.” The clone gives you a pointed look, and you glance over his shoulder to see Master Obi-Wan Kenobi emerging from the shuttle doors. Your heart does a familiar sumersault.

“Thanks, Cody,” you say. You make to move toward the shuttle, but he stops you with one hand. 

“Here, you’ve got some–” he swipes a thumb down his tongue and brushes it across your cheek. It comes away black, glistening with the remains of what must have been a splotch of oil. Cody grins. “Gotta get you looking nice for the general.” He pats you on the shoulder and winks.

Your cheeks heat and you duck your head as the commander saunters off farther into the ship. Cody is the only one who knows what you and Obi-Wan are to each other. He confronted you about it one evening, reminding you that maybe it’s a good idea to use the external silence function on the Master’s chambers late at night. Ever since, the clone has been your loyal wingman. Not to mention your best friend.

You take a breath and will your nerves to settle. There was  always a tension and anticipation after Obi-Wan returned from his missions. A sort of cat-and-mouse game where you tried to see how long you both could pretend things were normal and you hadn’t been craving the other. It never lasted long. And usually ended with your jumpsuit bunched at your knees and the Master’s tongue between your legs. 

You take a few steps toward the shuttle, but the Jedi doesn’t greet you with his usual “Hello, darling.” Instead, he gives you a curt nod and follows Cody’s path deeper into the ship without a word. His jaw clenches as he passes you, and you almost reach for him. Almost. 

But boundaries were something you both understood and respected. And you were getting his signal loud and clear. Anakin must have really riled him up. You shake your head and made your way back to the ship you were working on. These men and their moods.

It isn’t until it’s approaching midnight that you start to get antsy. Usually by now, you’d be pushed against a wall, breathily moaning the Master’s name, that external silence function definitely in use.

But you haven’t heard a single word from the general since his return. Confusion rolls through you, followed by worry. Obi-Wan tends to overthink mission results, especially if something went off-script. And it normally did. Although, he always talked it through with you. Usually after you’d had a few earth-shattering orgasms. But tonight, nothing.

At the stroke of midnight, you can’t stand it any longer. You make your way up a few levels of the massive Republic cruiser to the wing of Jedi quarters. At this point, you could find your way to his room blindfolded. Apprehension curls in your gut as you approach his door. 

You tap lightly against the cool metal. “Obi, it’s me,” you say softly, knowing that he would be able to sense you through the Force. The door slides open to reveal a dark room, the window letting in the faint glow of space the only source of light.

You squint into the darkness, unable to see the Jedi Master. A rustle of robes brings your attention to the floor by the bed. As your eyes adjust, you can just make out a hunched figure sitting in a relaxed imitation of a meditation pose. 

“Over here, darling.” His voice is low and tense, and your sense of dread creeps higher into your chest. 

You make your way over to where the Jedi is sitting, joining him on the silky rug. The light catches Obi-Wan’s cheekbones and his beard glints gold. His eyes are warm, but they seem sunken, dark rings underneath. He tries to smile, but it doesn’t have its usual energy.

“Obi, are you alright?” You reach out and gently place a hand on his knee, the warmth of the fabric seeping into your fingers. The Jedi places his hand over yours and squeezes, taking a deep breath in and sighing out. His breath tickles your cheeks, bringing with it the spicy sweet scent that is purely him. “I’m sorry to bother you, but you haven’t contacted me yet, and I got worried…” you trail off, giving him space to respond.

After a few moments, he squeezes your hand again, his thumb ghosting across your knuckles. “You’re never a bother, little one. I apologize for not contacting you sooner, I just… I thought it would have faded it by now.”

Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion. You weren’t following. “You thought that what would have faded?”

“This frustration, this dread, this… dark feeling in my chest.” Obi-Wan lowers his head, like he is ashamed to admit these emotions to you. He releases your hand and stands, worrying his beard with his fingers. 

You’re still confused. “Do you know what caused this feeling?” you ask as gently as you can. This is obviously difficult for him. You know how strictly Obi-Wan adheres to the Jedi code. With a few exceptions, of course. 

He sighs deeply again and sinks onto the bed. After a few moments of silence, he says quietly, “Cody. With you.”

Your eyebrows lift in surprise. Oh. Obi-Wan was…jealous?

The Jedi continues hurriedly, “I know it is not your fault, little one. And I’m not angry with you, darling, I could never be. But seeing Cody with you today, something– I have never felt these dark emotions before, and I am unsure of myself.” He swipes his hands across his face wearily. 

You lift yourself off of the carpet and make your way toward the bed as Obi-Wan continues. “This anger that I feel inside is not directed at you in the slightest, it’s– I am angry at myself for having these emotions. I have spent much of the day trying to meditate, to channel this dark energy outside of me.” He looks at the floor, bunching his robes in his fists. “But I keep seeing him touch you like that, in a way that only I have ever touched you. And then this dark, ugly beast inside me rears its head.”

He looks up at you helplessly. You can see the conflict and pain in those precious blue eyes. “I am sorry, little one.”

You smile gently and nudge his knees apart so you can stand between them. The fabric of his Jedi robes brush your legs, Obi-Wan’s scent enveloping you once again. The Jedi avoids your eyes, looking at the floor. His beard tickles your fingers as you slowly lift his chin to meet your gaze. You’ve never seen such anguish in him before. 

“Obi-Wan,” you say softly, “thank you for sharing that with me.” You brush a strand of his short blonde hair back from his forehead. “I know that must have been difficult.” The Jedi sighs again, leaning his cheek into your hand. “Cody can be…” you search for the word, “over-familiar at times. But I reassure you, he is nothing more than a friend to me. I would never want him, because I have you.” You smile at him. “What you saw this morning was his attempt to…clean me up so I could look my best. For you,” you emphasize.

The Jedi raises an eyebrow, a small smirk coming to his lips. The haunted look on his face fades.

“Mmm, but you always look lovely,” Obi-Wan murmurs. Your cheeks flush, and you run your hands across his shoulders and down his chest. 

“To have these emotions is to be human,” you reassure him. “Even I get jealous on occasion.” At another raise of Obi-Wan’s eyebrow, you say, “Ventress?” 

His eyebrows crinkle. “Ventress is simply a nuisance with flirty banter who–” Realization dawns and his eyes widen in understanding. 

You nod. “While I know she means nothing to you, jealousy sometimes creeps in.” You take the Jedi’s face in your hands. He closes his eyes, savoring your touch. “I know these emotions are difficult for you. But Obi-Wan, they come from a place of love. It is because you care so much that these feelings arise.” 

He nods and places his hands on the back of your thighs, bringing you closer to him. “I understand now, little one. Thank you,” he says, the tension easing from his shoulders. 

“And Obi-Wan?” you say.

“Hmm?” The Jedi gazes up and you and your heart leaps.

“I am yours, okay? Only yours.”

He nods and buries his face in your chest. He breathes you in and you can feel his spirits lifting, the dark energy finally ebbing away. After a few moments, he pulls back and guides you to sit on his lap, your legs straddling the outside of his. You rest your hands on his chest, playing with the layers of his Jedi robes. 

Obi-Wan smooths a hand through your hair, gently bringing your forehead to his. You sit there for a few eternal moments, just savoring the warmth and comfort of each other. You pull back slightly, starting to kiss each freckle and mole on his cheeks. You feel him smile beneath your affections and he cups your cheek with his hand, bringing your lips together.

The kiss is gentle at first, an exploration of each other, whisper-soft touches and brushes of noses. Your heart swells with affection for this man, and you wrap your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. You feel Obi-Wan start to give in to the passion he only lets himself feel when he is with you. 

You both break apart, gasping. The Jedi grins and brushes a thumb across your lips. “My darling?” he asks.

“Yes?”

“Shall we activate the external silence feature?”

You bite your lip and nod. “I think that would be wise.”You swing off of his hips, and move toward the door. You glance back to see the general gazing at you with adoration. Your heart stumbles. Your Obi-Wan.

[charnelhouse]

do you think mandalorians can drink? bc i would love your take on drunk din!

A/N: Din Djarin x F!Reader. Drunk!Din. Fluffy Din. Cuddly Din. Mentions of smut.

“Have a sip.”

“No,” Din gently slides the cup across the table. “Thank you,” he adds quickly.

Polite as ever. Well - polite to you.

“You don’t drink?”

He shakes his head as he taps his gloved fingers against his thigh. His shoulders are tense while his helmet tilts to scan the room. He’s on guard - in Mandalorian mode - ready to strike out if anyone so much as looks at you the wrong way.

“Why not?”

You already know. It’s fucking Din - he’s a control freak. But you like to press him - poke at him - making him get all flustered until he decides to throw you over his shoulder and drag you back to the Crest so he can fuck you into the hull.

Okay - he would not be that public about his affection, but he’d definitely cup you over your pants - grab your cunt and sink his thumb right where your clit would be and threaten you: “You’re playing a dangerous game, pretty girl.”

“I don’t drink or eat in public,” he reminds. “I don’t like being out of control.” He turns toward you - angling his helmet so his visor pins you in place. “But - you already know that.”

“Boring,” you grunt as you splay out into the booth. You grab your glass of sour liquor and take a hearty mouthful. You wince as it thickens your tongue and blossoms heat in your belly. “Yum.”

“Am I going to have to carry you back again?”

“Yeah, but there will be some hot hot sex in it for you.”

He chuckles and it sounds so husky as it slips through his modulator. “Last time I carried your ass home, you tried to seduce me -”

“And I bet it was sexy - “

“You puked all over the floor.”

You frown. “Sexy puke.”

“It was kind of cute,” he admits. “You got all flustered about it.”

You put the glass back on the table and scoot it away from you. “I think I’ve had enough.”

***

“Din.”

“Yeah?”

“Would you drink if it was just me and you? Just for fun?”

He shrugs. “Sure.”

“That was shockingly easy.”

“I’m an easy guy.”

“Yeah. Right.”

“What? It took like a week before we fucked.”

“That makes us both easy.”

“That's why we work well together."

"Aw - you're such a sweetie."

"Don't tell anyone."

***

It’s just you and Din. The ship is all closed up - nestled in a nice deserted jungle off a platinum river. He’s in a cotton ash-black shirt that hugs the curves of his muscular arms - the broadness of his shoulders. There’s a deep v and you can see the sparse chest hair over his pecs. His helmet is resting behind him and so you get his bare beautiful face. His long lashes fluttering over his candy-brown eyes as he watches you with such sweet fucking pleasure. His curls are mussed and sweeping the nape of his neck and you almost want to crawl towards him and take that full pink bottom lip between your teeth.

How did you get so lucky?

“I could say the same,” he murmurs, and oh fuck you had said that out loud. His mouth splits into a startling white grin before he reaches for your hand - curling his thick fingers around you and it’s so warm. “So did you want to drink or just stare at each other?”

You roll your eyes. “Drink, obviously.”

He releases you, scrubbing at his face. “Or we could just fuck?”

“We always do that.” You take a sip of the sour fruit punch you’d stirred up. It burns a hole in your gut. Perfect.

“Because it’s fun - you have the best pussy in the galaxy.”

You choke - alcohol burning through the raw skin of your nostrils and up your throat. He laughs and it’s fucking gorgeous outside of the helmet. Raw and unfiltered and from the center of his chest. He leans toward you - lowering his voice. “It’s true. I could literally eat that sweet little cunt every morning and every night.”

You gulp. “Din...”

He grabs the glass from your hands and sips it. He furrows his brow. “This tastes like liquid plasma.”

You shrug. “I like it.”

“Fine. Pour me some.”

***

Din is drunk. You shouldn’t be surprised. You don’t know the last time he had even had alcohol.

But it’s so fucking endearing.

He’s staring up at you all moony-eyed - half-lidded and pleased. His lips quirk as he beams at you. “C’mere.” He reaches for your waist with grabby hands and before you can say anything, he drags you into his lap.

He peppers his lips along your cheek and throat. “You’re so fucking pretty,” he praises between kisses. “Prettier than any - any other woman I’ve ever had.”

“Ew.”

He rocks you into his chest - tightening his arms around your hip. “Don’t be jealous, sweet girl. They - they don’t even compare. C’mon, I gave you my face didn’t I?”

You blink. The conversation now threaded in some more serious intimacy. You swivel around so you can look at him - cupping his jaw - thumb slipping over the scratch of his beard. “You did give me that.” You press your lips to his and he deepens it - tongue thick and wet as he thrusts it into your mouth. Messy. Passionate. “I’m grateful you did," you continue.

He pulls away. “You know- it means a lot to show it to you. We’re basically married.”

You pause. “What?”

“It’s a thing Mandalorians do - show their face to their partner - it’s like a confession of - of forever.” He squeezes your hips as he pulls you against the bulge of his cock. “Let’s fuck.”

“Wait - no - what - we’re married?”

He narrows his eyes suspiciously. “I never said that.”

“You just fucking did!”

“Oh well - I didn’t mean it like that. Cara’s seen my face and I didn’t marry her.”

“You better not.”

He grins playfully. “Mmmm is baby jealous?”

You’ve never seen Din like this - never this open and overtly sweet on you with all the pet names and the longing.

“I think you need to eat something.”

He presses his hand between your legs and you almost go cross-eyed with how fucking good it feels. “I do need to eat something. Take your pants off, gorgeous girl.”

“Wow.”

“Please.”

“Din - you’re so drunk.”

He snorts. “I’m not.”

“I’m putting you to bed.”

***

“Fuck me,” Din groans as he pulls his pillow over his face. “I feel like shit.”

You sidle up to the side of the mattress before you offer him a box of Tatooine crackers. They’re probably stale, but they’re still salty. He snatches it from your hands and yanks it under his pillow.

You jump onto your side of the bed - making the whole thing creak and bounce. Din growls. “Not funny. The room is spinning.”

"Poor baby."

He mutters something lewd under his breath as he kicks out at the sheets.

You wrap yourself around his warm body - easing your leg between his thighs - curling your arms around his waist before you press your cheek to his chest. There’s the even pump of his heart and the soft puff of his breath at your scalp. “Hey pretty,” he murmurs as he slowly threads his fingers through your hair while he lets you settle on top of him.

You trace your fingernail around his nipple, which forces a shudder through the heavy brunt of his torso. “You know what helps hangovers?”

He jerks a little when you gently graze his cock. “What’s that?”

“Orgasms.”

[marquez-junky8920]

Alex Marquez+Angst🔥+Smut💦

Competetive motorcycle drivin' and stopping at a park by a hill.

Parking Lot

'Babe, how do I link the comms on our helmets?' you asked Alex who was currently putting his biker jacket on.

'You just hold down the buttons on both of them and they should link up.'

'Got it!'

'Ready to get your ass kicked?' you handed him his helmet but not without offering up a wink first.

'We'll let the racing do the talking, how about that?' he bent down to kiss your lips and put his helmet on.

'Help please.' you said, tilting your head up to let him fasten the buckle on your helmet. You could never understand how those things worked, especially when you weren't able to look at it. Why figure it out when you had Alex to help you?

'Shake your head.' he said, watching you shake your head around to make sure the helmet was secure.

'It's good.' you assured him, getting on your sport bike and putting away the kick stand.

'Let's go baby.' he winked before snapping his visor shut and starting his bike. You started yours in tandem and relished in the engine humming to life beneath you. You revved it a few times before kicking it into gear and heading out onto the open roads.

Alex specifically picked a spot where not a lot of traffic happened. The occasional person would ride their bicycle through here, but other than that, it was hardly a populated area which made this a hell of a lot more enjoyable.

'Hey.' Alex's voice came through the comms in your helmet. You offered no response, just looked at him through the visor in your helmet and revved your engine twice. He tossed his head back and laughed.

'You wanna go?'

'Fuck yeah, why else did we come out here?' you laughed, scooting your ass further down onto the seat and leaning forward into a racing position.

'I'm afraid that I've gotten you more interested in bikes than in your own boyfriend.'

'You may be right.' you giggled devilishly before putting your bike into a lower gear and taking off, leaving Alex in the background.

'Cheater!' he screamed and you just offered a playful eyeroll to yourself in response. Coming up to your first corner, you slowed and tilted the bike, the knee pad scraping the ground ever so carefully before you pushed back up and accelerated out of the turn. You heard Alex's bike coming up quickly behind you just as the road opened up to another straight stretch. You both slowed enough to ride side by side again.

'I'll make it fair this time since someone's a sore loser.' you joked, poking your foot lightly on his.

'3, 2.... 1.'

Both bikes revved to life and raced down the street, the wind ripping at your head below the small windscreen. For a quick moment, Alex's bike was nose to nose with yours but Alex forgot one thing - you were far smaller than him. Weight and stature played a huge part in racing a bike, so it came as no surprise to you when your bike started gaining on him slowly but surely. By the time you both reached another turn in the street, you slowed down and rode side by side again.

'Never underestimate the power of being short in motorcycle racing.'

'Now I know why my brother is so quick.'

'The power of the ant-man.' you pumped your muscles a few times and he shook his head as he laughed at you.

As you rode in tandem with Alex, you took in the sights of the beautiful day. The weather couldn't have been more perfect for riding. It was just coming to the ends of summer and the beginnings of fall, so the temperatures were like heaven on earth - not too cold but certainly not too hot. The road had taken you to a land that looked like it went on for miles and miles in either direction - prairie grass blowing in the breeze, cows dotting along the fields, and mountains in front of you. As you were enjoying the views around you, you felt Alex's hand barely touch at your ass. You looked over at him and saw that he had moved his bike closer to yours and was making a grabby hand motion at your ass. You giggled and stood up on your bike pegs, angling your ass over towards him and you heard him mumble out a celebratory "yes!" in response. He grabbed at it and then slapped it harshly before you sat back down on your seat and kept riding. No words were needed right now because it was just you and Alex and the chemistry you both had together.

It had to have been a while since you and Alex left the house because the sun was beginning to hit the horizon, throwing out it's last light to paint the sky in sapphire, tangerine, rouge, and the most beautiful shade of lilac you'd ever seen.

'Time stops existing when you're riding, doesn't it?' Alex spoke up. It was almost like he read your thoughts when you looked at the sunset.

'It does. I love it. It's so freeing.' you said, letting go of your handlebars and letting your hands float out next to you in the wind. Alex thought you'd never looked more beautiful...

'I think there's a little park up here if you want to stop and watch the sunset.' his finger pointed ahead of him to a beautiful little park that not a single soul occupied.

'Yeah, let's go there.' you said as he fell back behind you when a car drove towards you.

'I like the view better back here, I have to say.' he joked, flashing his lights in your mirror as he very clearly checked out your ass.

'You are unbelievable.' you laughed, turning into the parking lot of the park and putting your kickstand down. You switched the bike off and took off your helmet as Alex did the same next to you. You both took your biker jackets off before Alex took your hand and led you to the table and bench that sat underneath a little gazebo.

'This is so nice. I love this.' you said dreamily, taking in the sights, sounds, and smells around you. Alex put his arm around your waist and pulled you to sit on his lap while he laid his head on your shoulder to watch the colors change in the sky.

'You look beautiful when you're riding a bike, you know that?' he said softly.

'What makes you say that?'

'I don't know just... Seeing you earlier put your hands out beside you and feel the wind and the freedom that riding gives you... You've never been more beautiful to me.' he said, kissing your lips when you turned your head to look at him. A few pecks turned into longer touches and slow, roaming hands.

'Alex, we can't do this here.' you sighed out as his lips attacked your neck.

'There's no one here. We're the only ones up here.'

'Yeah, but what if someone sees us?'

'Who will see us? The trees? The birds?' he chuckled when you snorted out a laugh.

'If we get caught, I'm forever holding my embarrassment against you.'

'Deal.' he smirked, kissing your lips for a short moment before you stepped back onto the ground and sat on your knees. You unzipped his pants and pulled out his hardening cock, placing wet kisses along the length of him. He was leaned back with his elbows on the table behind him, legs spread to allow you space, and watching your every move like a hawk. He watched as your tongue swirled it's way around his tip before your lips closed around him and sucked harshly. His body jolted in response and you looked up at him with doe eyes with an innocent giggle. His left hand that was resting on the table came to pull your hair and make you look at him.

'Be a good girl and suck daddy's cock, yeah? I know you can do that.' he leaned forward to place a searing kiss on your lips before releasing your hair and letting you get back to work. Your mouth was his biggest weakness, whether it be when you were talking and how smooth your voice was or when you had him stuffed down your throat. Either way, he worshipped your mouth.

'Fuck... Just like that.' he groaned, tossing his head back when you swallowed around him as you deepthroated him. You slowly drew back, zigzagging you tongue along the underside of him in the process. When you got to his tip, you blew a breath of cold air on him and he twitched in response. His body missed the warmth of your mouth and your tongue against the brisk autumn air.

'I wanna fuck you so bad right now.' he said breathlessly, looking down at how you played with his cock. Like a cat with a ball of yarn.

'You said it yourself, there's no one here.' you lilted, giggling when he stood up and had you bent over the table before you could blink. His long, nimble fingers were working at the button on your jeans immediately and he yanked then down just enough to have access to what he craved. He ran himself through your folds for a moment before he sheathed himself inside of you, a feral growl coming from deep within his chest.

'Oh god...' you whined, perking up your ass a little bit to get him deeper inside of you. His pace was mind blowing right off the line, breasts bouncing in your shirt and your nails scraping against the cement table.

'This is my favorite view, right here.' he grunted, slapping your ass as his hips continued their wild pace. You willed your arms not to fail you as you used them to lift yourself up to him and kiss him. His hand took hold of your hair as he kissed you, his brows scrunching at the surge of passion and love he felt for you.

'I love you Alex.' you said quietly against his lips.

'Mm... I love you too babygirl.' he smiled, his hips never faltering in their determined movements. 'I want you to cum for me. Can you do that for daddy, hm? Can you cum on my cock and soak it?'

'Yes, oh fuck yes.' you whined loudly, gasping when he reached his hand around your front and rubbed tight circles on your clit. He felt your body begin to go stiff and hugged your back to his chest.

'It's okay baby, I got you. Let go for me.' he breathed in your ear, his hot breath mixed with the air growing colder as the sun went below the horizon. Goosebumps rose against your skin so hard that they became sensitive to the touch.

'I- Alex oh god..' you moaned, your brain forgetting how to form words as your release crashed into you like a tidal wave.

'You're gonna make me cum babe, oh...' he growled out, your pussy tightening around him and gripping him like a vice. He took the skin of your shoulder between his teeth as he released inside of you. You moaned along with him as you felt the pulses of his cock each time he shot his release into you. He placed a lazy kiss on your neck before turning your lips to his.

'Now you get to ride home with my cum inside you.' he smirked, smacking your ass as you bit your lip.

'That's okay. Just wait until we get home and you see the new lingerie set I got.' you buttoned your jeans and looked over your shoulder at him as he followed you back to the bikes. You could feel his release leaking out of you and you found yourself thanking the gods that you were going straight home.

[collecting-stories]

Creed - Din Djarin

Request: I had this idea for a mando drabble or one shot request if you're interested where reader is his wife and so she's seen him without the helmet but one day he's fallen asleep with it on, so she goes to take it off for him so he'll be more comfortable, but he gets startled and reacts badly and feels guilty about it and angst and stuff

A/N: Sorry this took a little while to get out! It was my first Mando request and I was hella nervous!!! (also...I’m playing fast and loose with creed rules in this one. Also, also...guess Grogu was asleep lol)

Star Wars Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

It wasn’t as if you’d never seen him without the helmet, being his wife afforded you certain privileges when you were alone with him, of them being that you were allowed to see his face. Even still, you knew how seriously he took his creed and had never been the one to remove the helmet, understanding that it was important for him to un-mask himself. So many who threatened to hurt him had tried to remove the helmet without his consent that you would be foolish not to know how having it removed, even if it was only you, would affect him.  

And you wouldn’t have ever taken it off of him yourself if it wasn’t for the odd angle that the weight of the helmet was pulling his head in as he slept. He’d fallen asleep in the cargo hold of the ship, claiming that he didn’t want to ‘go to bed’ and just wanted a nap until he heard from Karga about the bounty he was hunting. But the way his neck was bent, he looked almost like it was going to snap off and all you were thinking was that it would make him more comfortable to be helmet-less.  

You’d tried to wake him, waiting for any sign of life to indicate that he’d woken up but it was clear that his intention to nap had been overruled by his deep exhaustion as he didn’t stir even slightly. So, you tilted his head back, just enough to be comfortable, and carefully began to slip the helmet up.  

He hadn’t woken up when you’d jostled him but you should’ve known that the moment the helmet passed his chin, he was wide awake, grabbing your wrist with one hand and his blaster with the other, holding it out before he even realized that it was you holding the sides of the helmet.  

“Din!” You fell back off your knees, letting go of him quickly and trying to yank your hand away. He relaxed the blaster though he kept your wrist in a tight grip.  

“Why were you touching my helmet?”  

“You looked uncomfortable, I was just...trying to help,” you replied, the last part of your explanation said through gritted teeth as you tried and failed to pull your hand away from him. “Let go of me!” Subconsciously, you knew that Din would never do anything to intentionally physically harm you but you also knew that he was more than capable of ending someone’s life, had seen it plenty of times, and the irrational fear that he was going to squeeze your wrist until it ripped from your arm outweighed the loving husband you knew all too well.  

He released your wrist and stood swiftly, towering over you as you scooted back against the other wall. Without another word, he headed for the ladder and the cock-pit, the sound of the doors closing echoing in the otherwise quiet of the hull. You knew he was pissed and, you thought, rightly so. You should’ve left him to wake up with a stiff neck and not bothered with trying to help if he was going to throw a tantrum. Even if you knew exactly why he was angry and understood how full justified it was. It felt easier to blame him for his outburst than to fault yourself for doing something that you knew would upset him.  

You considered staying down in the cargo hold, maybe locking yourself into the small space carved out for the two of you to sleep. You could wait for him to feel guilty for manhandling you and come down to apologize though that could take cycles. If there was any species in the galaxy that you knew of to hold grudges, it was your Mandalorian. There was no telling when you would be done this hunt and off-world and you certainly didn’t want him going back out there being miserable with you.  

The only solution was apologizing, as much as you didn’t want this to be your fault. Your footsteps felt heavy on the ladder, reluctant to cave...maybe you were just as stubborn as he was.  

“Din-” you called through the door, cutting yourself off. You weren’t entirely sure what else you could honestly say aside from sorry.  

“Karga should be coming through with a transmission soon.” His voice sounded from the cock-pit, empty of any real emotion. It was the way he talked to people when he was schooling his feelings.  

“Din, we should talk.” You insisted. “I’m sorry that I tried to take your helmet off, I know it’s important to you-”  

“Do you?” He asked, the modulator practically unable to hide the emotion that time.  

“You know that I do.” You replied, stepping back when the door to the cockpit opened. Din was still sitting in the pilot’s seat, his back to you still. “I wasn’t trying to undermine your-”

“Then you should’ve left my helmet alone.”  

“Would you stop cutting me off and let me explain!” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest and glaring at the back of his beskar helmet. “You know that I have never done anything to disrespect your creed Din. I know I took you by surprise but it was honestly innocent...you looked uncomfortable. I tried to wake you up first.”

Din remained silent after you finished explaining, fiddling with some buttons to seem like he was ignoring you and you stood there behind the pilot’s chair in the cockpit, waiting for him to say anything at all. Finally, as Karga’s transmission came through, you left, heading back down into the hull of the ship.  

You knew it was a dangerous thing to be alone down there on your own, still angry, just running over the events that’d taken place. You weren’t sure there was any other way to have the conversation, you certainly couldn’t make Din listen to you. It wasn’t until the sound of his boots on the ladder echoed through the hull that you looked up from your bed.  

“Are you leaving?”  

“Karga sent me more reliable coordinates for the bounty.” He replied, opening the weapons closet.  

“So that’s it, we don’t have any conversation? You just leave?”

“I’m not sure what you expect me to say.”  

“We took vows Din. Do you really think that after all this time I would violate any part of that?” You asked, “I know I shouldn’t have tried to take your helmet off but please, just don’t leave like this.”

Din sighed and it crackled through the voice modulator. He took the few steps forward to where you were standing, placing one hand on the back of your neck and guiding you so that your forehead met his helmet, the cool beskar chilling your warm skin. You closed your eyes, hands finding his sides and clutching the soft fabric of his top.  

“I would never do anything to intentionally hurt you.” You said, eyes still closed.

“I know.” He finally said. Carefully, Din untangled himself from you. “I’ll be back in three days.”

[citrinesparkles]

wrist kisses

jason todd x gender neutral reader. 1,013 words. notes: can he PLEASE be happy. please. alternate title "citrine gets sad about jason again". two quick blurbs about jason having a bad time. warnings: mild angst? maybe? brief mention of food

you barely caught his pause out of the corner of your eye, only noticing the deep breath he took because you knew to watch for it. the moment- a few seconds of his hand on the counter, his shoulders slumping, his chest rising and falling- was almost nothing.

but, in truth, it was absolutely everything.

a deep breath to steady himself. you could almost laugh at how small a tell it was, if the thought of that being all he would allow himself didn't settle into the pit of your stomach like a stone.

and then his posture straightened, his hand fell to his side, and he turned to you as though it had never happened.

"i'm heading out, honey," he said with a grin.

the tone was light, words casual, but the use of honey was anything but: rare enough to set off warning sirens in your mind and fully tug your attention away from your food.

you turned your head to him, waffling between letting him have his masks and walls or just asking him to stay. asking him to take the night off, get just one decent night's rest, a few measly hours free of the horrors of the city and the aches and pains of fighting them.

you wanted so desperately to drag him to bed. in your perfect world, you would ask and he would stay and whatever was tugging the corner of his mouth into a subtle scowl would go away.

but it wasn't a perfect world, so you settled for crossing the room and dragging him into your arms.

a tiny noise of surprise escaped him and his body tensed under your touch, your arms snaking under his jacket. it was as close to slipping through his defenses as you could get, as close as he would let you get tonight.

but this, he gave you. after a brief moment of off-balance tension he all but melted into your hold, helmet getting dropped onto the counter as you were tugged even closer to him.

you squeezed your eyes shut and took a deep, deliberate breath, one he immediately matched. a silent comfort, as much as you thought you could get away with offering.

"be caref-"

your muttered wish of safety was cut off by something best described as a whimper. "just... gimme a minute," he mumbled into your collar. "need a minute."

"okay."

you leaned into him, focusing on the sound of his breathing and the scent of leather wafting from his jacket. his warmth had already spread to the fabric, now seeping into your skin.

eventually, he sighed, pulling his head back enough to meet your gaze.

"hey, jason."

he gave you a weak smile. "hey."

you squeezed his torso gently. "wanna talk about it?"

"nah. don't have time, anyway. gotta be at the docks by midnight." his gloved hands trailed down your back, coming to rest on your waist. his eyes dropped and narrowed at his right hand as it picked at a piece of lint on your sweatshirt. "just... tired."

a small huff of laughter escaped you. "never would have guessed that."

he sighed again. "i gotta go, gorgeous."

"okay." you withdrew your arms, bringing your hands down to catch his. you brought them up, resting his palms against your cheeks.

with a small scoot forward, your lips found the skin between glove and sleeve and rested there, feeling his heartbeat.

"i love you," you murmured quietly against his pulse, turning your head to give his other wrist the same treatment. "just... be careful out there."

he opened his mouth slightly before closing it again, the motion catching your eye and bringing your attention upwards. his jaw clenched for a beat, contrasting his soft, gooey eyes and the sudden color in his cheeks. "c'mere."

he led you forwards, meeting you halfway with an invitation to repeat your wish against his lips.

---

"you heading out?"

a rhetorical question. his helmet was three shades shy of being a neon sign.

months had passed. the crisis at the docks had been resolved, as had several after, but yet another had sprung up and brought with it the same emotional withdrawal from that night in the kitchen.

"yeah."

the robotic voice was grating, inorganic, telling your ears the same thing his posture told your eyes.

there was a wall up, solid and thick, and it wouldn't be falling tonight.

you nodded at his back, watching the tension in his shoulders as he shifted in front of the glow of the city. "jason."

the helmet turned slightly. a question, an acknowledgement, but not much more.

the sight made you sigh.

you crossed the short distance between you, stepping around him and planting yourself in front of the window.

even through the expressionless red, you could feel him watching you as you gently took his hand in both of yours and brought it up to your cheek.

you pressed a soft kiss to the exposed skin below his glove.

the only piece of him exposed, the only sliver of your love that wasn't hidden behind armor.

his thumb trailed over your cheek, slow and sweet, and you repeated the process with his other hand.

"i love you," you said firmly, meeting the eyes of his helmet with a challenge in your own, all but daring him to doubt it as you squeezed your fingers around the bare skin your lips had abandoned. "please be safe."

silence for a beat, two, before he sighed and all but fell forwards. his helmet gently rested against your forehead and his thumbs wandered over your skin again. "i'll do my best."

you squirmed back just enough to press a kiss against the shiny red, lingering for a moment before slowly releasing his arms and shifting away. "then go on, hero. i'll see you tonight."

he hesitated, head tilted towards you in silent thought before nodding. "see you."

and with that, he slid out the window and into the night, leaving you to hope the small ritual brought him the comfort it brought you.

[jaybird-redhood]

propinquity

wc: 2.2k

pairing: jason todd // gn reader

The first thing you think when you see him for the first time is that he has the cutest smile.

That’s a lie, the first thing you think it that he is so incredibly in shape, and it looks great on him, but the smile thing sounds better in your head.

He's moving into the apartment across from yours a month after you moved into yours. Weird, because the two people in your building closest to your age are 2 and 63, respectively.

You suppose that some wicked twist of fate must’ve brought this upon you for missing your cousin’s birthday party last week, because the guy standing across from you is crazy hot. And looking right at you. And you are in the huge neon Wonder Woman t-shirt that your best friend got for your birthday last year.

Yeah. Karma.

“Nice shirt,” the guy offers, holding in a grin. “You’re really making it work.”

“I-”

“See you around, neighbor.”

And with a shut of a door and an awfully charismatic smirk he’s gone.

The next time you see him is a week later, and this time- luckily, you think- you’re dressed somewhat put together. You run into him while unlocking your door.

"What's got you in a twist?" he asks.

"Um," you start, "I just. Ugh I have so much to do. Like 3 hours of homework, a lecture tomorrow that I cannot skip, and I'm completely out of bread and eggs and can't even you to the store until, like, Thursday at best."

Once you start rambling you can't seem to stop. You slouch against your door. You're not entirely sure why you're telling a stranger all this, but he seems to be listening, so you suppose that’s a good sign

"I get the feeling," he offers, and you look up at him. "I'm majoring in English Lit and my classes are kind of kicking my ass."

You give him a small smile, "Glad to know someone in this building is struggling as much as I am."

"Jason," he says, and he reaches his hand out to you. "My name."

You shake it and tell him yours.

As you both turn back into your respective apartments you think that he maybe isn't as intimidating as you thought.

~

The next day goes by with a really boring lecture and another 3 hours of work you need to do.

The ride home from uni isn't that long, but it's long enough for you to contemplate all the ways that your life went wrong after moving to Gotham. And, maybe as payback for thinking mean things about the city, rain that you think should belong to a category 3 hurricane starts to whip around your car 10 minutes into your drive.

Your clothes are dripping water in literal puddles by the time you get back to your apartment.

Groaning, you start fishing for your keys in your purse while walking up the last flight of stairs.

When you get to your door you stop. Right in front of it there’s a grocery bag. Picking it up and looking inside you see a loaf of bread and a small carton of milk.

You pick it up smiling.

“Jason?” you ask, knocking on his door.

No response.

You shrug and turn around. Remember to thank him the next time you run into each other; you think.

~

That next time doesn’t happen to be that long and thank goodness for you.

“You know, we really need to stop meeting like this,” he says to you.

You’re sitting on the floor outside of your door looking rather pathetic, and he’s giving you the most awful smirk you’ve ever seen. (Not that it looks bad on him though. You seem to think that nothing could really look that bad on him)

“I swear I’m usually more put together than this,” you sigh to him. “You moving here jinxed me!”

“Yeah yeah. You’re locked out, aren’t you?”

You give him your best withering I’m going to kill you stare, but it must not be working because he just laughs even harder at you.

“This is completely not my fault it’s just I lost my second set of keys like right when I moved in and then today when I got home, I accidentally left them in my car, but my second set of car keys is in my apartment so now I can’t get them out, stop laughing at me!”

“God you’re a mess,” Jason says- finally finished laughing at you and maybe taking a bit of pity on how disheveled you look. “You couldn’t call anyone to get you in?”

You shake your head.

“My friend is the only other person with a set, but they’re out of town, and our landlord is being a dick and telling me it’s my fault in the first place, so I need to deal with it. I’ve been sitting out here for like an hour.”

“All I’m hearing is that it is your fault and now you’re just moping about it feeling bad about yourself.”

You tilt your head against the door so hard that it makes you wince a bit.

“Ok fine,” he says crossing his arms.

“What?”

“Wait right here.”

He goes into his apartment and comes back out with a skinny metal thing you don’t recognize.

You look at him in confusion and he just motions for you to scoot out of the way as he sticks it in your locks and starts to pick it.

You sigh in relief.

“Thank you thank you thank you. For everything. I swear I will get my life together, so you don’t feel like you have to keep cleaning up my messes.

“I don’t mind,” he says with a small smile, “Take your time.”

And with that he opens the door to your apartment and turns back to his.

“By the way, you should really get better locks. That was way too easy.”

You make a note in your head to get that done sometime. As you’re lying on your couch that night, you’re AirDropped a photo on your phone. Saving it up you see it’s a piece of paper with neat handwriting on it: a phone number and a smiley face, Jason’s name at the bottom.

You smile too and add the number to your contacts.

~

Over the next few weeks, you and Jason start talking more, both over text and through the various times when you run into each other outside your doors.

Each interaction is better than the next, and you soon start to realize that Jason isn’t just some hot guy with no brains. He’s sweet and charismatic, has a whole wall full of bookshelves, could probably quote any classical novel by heart, has incredibly good taste in music, and best (or worst) of all, would make incredible friend material.

It’s just that as you become closer friends, you start to realize that that might not be all you want.

It’s a stupidly cold Friday morning when he texts you, and you’re covered in blankets and wrapped in sweatshirts in your bed. Movie at my place tonight?

You text back your approval and a quick be there at 6 before getting ready for classes.

The day goes by slower than you hoped.

It might be the anticipation of seeing Jason again, or more likely the hours of lectures you have to sit through, but you’re elated when your final class for the day gets let out.

The hours in between are a blur.

A blur which leads to the two of you sitting on his couch watching Romeo and Juliet together, a blanket thrown over your bodies.

You have the obligatory bowl of popcorn resting on your legs, and every few minutes Jason reaches across your lap to take a handful.

The way you’re laying half on top on him is completely deliberate, as to take as much of his body heat as possible. Your landlord had turned off heating 3 weeks prior to ‘save money’ or some other bullshit.

Jason’s not complaining though.

Once your popcorn bowl is finished and your head is in his lap, he runs his fingers through your hair absentmindedly. It might be the nicest feeling you’ve ever felt.

Throughout the movie you exchange snide comments about the plot back and forth. You start trying to say funny things whenever you can just to hear how sweet his laugh sounds to your ears.

By the end of the movie, you’re only slightly in tears, or so you tell yourself.

“Are you crying right now?” Jason asks incredulously, wearing a teasing smile.

“It’s not my fault,” you half say half moan, “Leonardo DiCaprio just has that effect on me.”

He just laughs and pulls you upright until you’re sitting on his lap.

His eyes are a shade of blue green that you’ve never seen before, although you could swear their getting greener by the second.

You watch his gaze drop down to your lips before staring you right in the eyes again.

“Can I kiss you?”

“God yes,” you tell him, and kiss him right back.

~

The next week is somewhat uneventful, even though you and Jason had been meeting each other almost every night, rotating apartments based on whose house was warmer each particular night.

Tonight is your night, and you’ve been waiting the whole day to show him the film you had rented to watch together.

The walk up to your door is easier than usual, and you have a bounce in your step that’s making you feel even more elated than normal taking out your keys to unlock your apartment.

You open your door and your bag drops. The keys clatter when they hit the hardwood, and the silence that follows is deafening.

“You’re bleeding on my carpet,” is the first thing that comes out of your mouth.

There Jason is, bleeding quite profusely, and using your kitchen counter to keep himself vertical. He’s wearing what looks to be a torn half of a domino mask and an extremely hot leather jacket.

(Not that this was the time for noticing his fashion choices, but you filed that thought away for later.)

What really catches your eye though is the huge red bat symbol on his chest, and the red helmet next to it sitting on your counter.

He shifts a little to the side before stumbling through saying, “Um, so, I know this isn’t ideal and I’m really sorry to put you in this situation, but I seriously do not feel like bleeding out tonight and-”

“Oh my god this is great,” you cut him off with. “I thought you were a hit-man!”

“Wait what.”

“Shit no that’s not what I meant- kind of, hang on we should probably stop you from dying before having this conversation.”

You walk over to him to get a better look at his wounds.

“God Jace, you look like death warmed over.”

He just stares at you.

“You have a bunch of stuff in your bathroom, right?”

At least this elicits a reaction. He grimaces in pain but gives you a nod of his head in conformation.

“Ok I’ll be right back, don’t move.”

He gives you a look that says seriously, where would I go.

3 minutes later you’re back with a needle and thread, and some sterilizing spray.

“This should be fine,” you tell him, “I took a first aid class last year with my friends and passed with flying colors according to the nurse.”

“Just try to keep them tight and neat. I trust you,” he says, and your heart pounds just a little harder.

You respond with a nervous laugh but take a deep breath and start working.

~

An hour and a half later you’re done.

The combination of pain meds, bandages, and a whole lot of stitches eventually led to you and Jason laying in your bed together, both completely exhausted.

He turns his head to face you.

“Could we maybe go back to the hit-man thing?”

“Oh uh. Well I saw a bunch of shirts covered in blood in your laundry in the bathroom, not to mention all the weirdly specific first-aid you had,” you tell him.

“And also the assorted guns and knives you have hidden all over. I guess I just assumed? But the whole Red Hood thing is so much better,” you reassure him.

“You found all my knives?”

You smile up at him.

“I love that that’s thing you chose to focus on.”

“And you’re really not mad that I didn’t tell you about the whole vigilante thing before?” he asks.

“Jay, I had already resigned myself to life forever with some shady hit-man that also happened to be incredibly good looking. Red Hood is ten times better than that. I’m not going to run away from you just because you’re incredibly intimidating and probably could kill me. I see that as an added bonus,” you say, with as much charm as you can muster without yawning.

“Just. Be careful, ok? I’d hate to make this a routine.”

He responds by pulling you closer to his body.

“I promise,” he whispers into your head. “You really to remember to get better locks by the way, breaking in was still way too easy.”

You let out a small laugh and finally you let yourself give into sleep.

[sourwulf]

hello!!!! can u do smth like ur being harassed by a guy at school during a lacrosse game and stiles defends u then when u take him in the locker room to help stop his bleeding from injuries he confesses he loves you which is why he did it ??????????? thank u i luv ur stories 🥺

༄  word count  —  966

፨  characters  —  stiles stilinski

☓  tw  —  harassment, violence

⊹  cw  —  none

✎  masterlist

─

you stood next to the bleachers, watching the lacrosse game against another high school in beacon hills. it was the first game you’d been to, and you’d been invited by your friend stiles.

you sat next to each other during fourth period and ate lunch together every day, and he mentioned he was playing that night. he invited you to watch, and you agreed.

you were one of the first people he told about scott being a werewolf. it was the night gerard had taken and beaten him, and you helped clean his busted lip. you told him to be honest and tell you what happened, and he did.

you took it well, promising not to tell anyone. you wanted to keep them safe, but you were right by their sides when they needed you.

but you'd started regretting saying yes to coming to the game when a much taller boy stood a little too close to you about ten minutes in. you stepped over, closer to the bleachers, and he followed.

you looked over to see a boy with blond hair and green eyes, a brown jacket hanging loosely on his shoulders.

“do you mind scooting over a bit?” you asked not-so-kindly. “i’m kinda smushed here.”

“i noticed you were all alone over here.”

“i’m not alone. i’m here with my friends.”

he looked around. “i don’t see anyone.”

“yeah, that’s ‘cus they’re on the field.”

“what numbers?”

“eleven and twenty-four.”

“wanna get out of here?” he asked, completely ignoring your question.

“no, i’m okay. i’ll stay.”

“come on. we could go somewhere private-”

“i said no. please leave me alone.” he reached down and placed his hand on your lower back, prompting you to shove him away. “get away from me, please.” he gripped you by the wrists, squeezing tight enough for it to hurt. “let go of me.”

he did his best to try dragging you away, but you pulled your arms out of his grip.

“hey, what the hell is going on here?” yelled a familiar voice to your left. you looked over to see a quickly approaching stiles, who was pulling his helmet off.

“stilinski!” shouted his coach, oblivious to the situation.

stiles shoved the boy back a few feet. “keep your hands off.”

he was shoved by the blond in return, which got him punched.

“stiles!” you yelled as he tackled the boy, sending them both to the ground. wrestling ensued, and a few punches were thrown here and there, making an audible sound with each impact.

a few seconds later, the boy flipped them over and pinned stiles to the ground, punching him multiple times. 

“oh my god, stop!”

that was when a couple of referees and scott ran over, pulling him off of his best friend. he just laid there on the ground, coughing and rolling onto his side.

you bent over and pulled him to your feet, throwing his arm around your shoulders.

“y/n,” scott said, running over to you.

“i’m gonna take him to the locker room. get some of the blood off of...” you looked at his face. “everywhere.”

“you sure? i can come.”

you shook your head. “it’s okay. go play your game.”

and with that, the two of you were off toward the school.

—

standing in front of a bloody stiles sitting on a locker room bench, you had his head tilted up to look at you. you’d wiped off most of the blood staining his skin, although you weren’t sure whose it was.

when he was clean, you crossed your arms.

“what the hell was that?”

he sighed. “scott could hear you telling him to leave you alone.”

“i can handle myself, stiles.”

“did you see the size of that guy? he could’ve picked you up if he wanted to.”

“which is exactly why i’m so confused as to why you took him on.”

he went silent, as if he was trying to think up an answer. “uh... he was bothering you.”

“that doesn’t warrant getting beat up.”

“maybe it does.” you shifted your hands to your hips. “don’t mom me.”

“i’ll mom you until you tell me why you almost got yourself put in the hospital.” he stood up and walked over to the sinks, leaning against one. “why did it make you so mad?”

“you’re my friend.”

you shook your head. “nope. tell me the real reason.”

he crossed his arms. “i-i like you. a lot. so when i saw some guy harassing you... something just came over me.”

you put your arms down. “finally.”

“what?”

“it’s not like you made it super obvious, or anything.”

his cheeks went red. “you knew?”

“like i said, you made it super obvious.”

“oh.”

you stepped forward so you were only about a foot away from him.

“why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“maybe i was afraid of rejection.”

you furrowed your brows and tilted your head with a frown. “you thought i’d reject you?”

he looked down at the floor. “everyone else does.”

you placed your finger under his chin and pushed it up, making him look at you.

“i’m not lydia. just because she rejected you, doesn’t mean i will.”

“i’m sorry,” he said softly. “i didn’t mean to cause a scene.”

“i think punching a guy twice your size and then getting into a fight would cause a scene no matter who it was.”

he broke your eye contact, and you pulled him in for a hug. he almost hesitated to hug you back, but when he did, he squeezed you tightly. when you pulled back, you leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

he smiled at you, going red.

“let’s get you home, yeah?”

he nodded in response. “can’t wait to get yelled at by coach tomorrow.”

[drabbles-mc]

Safe & Sound

Bishop Losa x F!Reader

Request by @frattsparty​​, @garbinge​​, and Anon: #11 with Bishop: “I almost lost you” kiss (Prompt from This List)

Warnings: language, angst (with a happy ending), hospitals, mentions of injuries, mentions of car accidents

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: All three of you sent in this request and that fact alone made my heart soooo happy haha. Hope you guys enjoy it!!

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Bishop Losa Taglist: @masterlistforimagines @sincerelyasomebody @sadeyesgf @thesandbeneathmytoes @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @multiyfandomgirl40 @sillygoose6969 @queenbeered @louisianalady @gemini0410 @paintballkid711 @chibsytelford @yourwonkywriter @sesamepancakes @arveeee @mayans-sauce @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​ @plentyoffandoms @georgiaaintnopeach @twistnet​ @themoonandthewicked​ @bucky-iss-bae​ @encounterthepast​ @everyhowlmarksthedead​ @rosieposie0624​ @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo​ @mijop​ @xladymacbethx​ @blessedboo​ @holl2712​ @lakamaa12​ @kkim120​ @toni9​ @shadow-of-wonder​ @crowfootwrites​ @redpoodlern​ @punkgoddess-98​ @black-repunzel99​ (If you want to be added to any of my taglists just let me know!)

Bishop has experienced more than his fair share of loss in his lifetime. Every kind of loss you could go through, he’s been there already. He’s lost relationships of every kind, he’s lost friends and family to the inescapable grip of death. From the military to the MC, the numbers had grown too high to count. Somewhere along the way he started to push it all down, become hardened to it. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have been able to function at all. He truly believed that he had hardened past the point of no return, become too jaded for any loss to hit home anymore.

Until Hank walked into Templo one night looking like he’d seen a ghost.

“Bishop…” his voice was timid, which wasn’t at all like him.

“What?” Bishop had been so in his own head, too busy stressing over the MC falling apart to even notice Hank walk in.

“Y-you gotta get to the hospital,” he forced out.

Bishop’s brows furrowed, unsure why he was being so vague, “Why?”

“It’s Y/N.”

He shot up out of his seat, “What the fuck happened?”

Fear was written plain as day on Hank’s face, “I-I don’t know. They wouldn’t tell me—I’m not family.”

“Fuck!” he slammed his fist down on the table before racing out of Templo.

His rage was written all over his face—unable to show genuine fear he leapt right to anger. He didn’t know what happened but the reality of it was that it didn’t matter. You were laid up in a hospital somewhere and someone was going to have to pay for it. Everyone who was in the clubhouse saw the tension in his features and stayed well out of his way as he quickly strode towards the door. Angel got halfway through asking what was wrong before he realized that Bishop wasn’t going to offer a word to anyone, his only concern being getting to you.

He tore down the streets of Santo Padre on his bike. By some minor miracle, he got to the hospital safely and didn’t need to be laid up in the room next door to yours. He gripped his helmet tight in his hand as he stormed in, Hank hot on his heels after somehow managing to keep up with him on the wild ride over.

After a very disjointed talk with one of the nurses, who was clearly intimidated by everything about Bishop at the moment, he was finally being led back to see you. Hank offered to go back with him but Bishop waved him off, saying that he was fine.

“Really, Bishop, I don’t know if you should be—”

“I said I’ll be fucking fine, Hank,” he snapped.

Hank backpedaled, taking a deep breath before finding a seat off to the side in the waiting area. He didn’t know what Bishop was about to be walking into—neither of them really did. The last thing he was going to do was leave him there alone. Even if he was acting like a dick at the moment.

The nurse walked him to the doorway, hanging back as he walked into the room. The rage he’d been holding onto began to wear away as he looked at you, his fear and sadness taking over. He set his helmet on one of the chairs as he slowly approached your bed. One hand came up to cover his mouth as tears gathered in his eyes. Once he reached your bedside, the nurse took that as her cue to step away, giving Bishop a moment to process all that was laid out in front of him.

You looked peaceful. There were a few cuts on your face, and your right arm was strapped up in a sling, but the expression on your face was almost one of contentment. For some reason that made his heart break even more. A choked sob slipped past his lips as he reached forward and gently caressed your cheek, as if to make sure that you were really there and really okay. He studied the steady rise and fall of your chest in a desperate attempt to try and calm himself.

“Fucking drunk drivers,” he muttered under his breath as he tried to keep his emotions in check.

He pulled a chair as close to your hospital bed as he could manage, not wanting to climb up next to you and risk hurting you further. The nurse reassured him that you would be alright, you just needed whatever rest you would be able to get, but he wasn’t going to believe that until you woke up and spoke to him. They might’ve seen you conscious and speaking but until he saw it for himself none of that mattered. He slid his hand into your own, letting out a deep, strangled sigh as he tried not to break down.

Minutes ticked by in hospital silence, meaning the only noise came from the monitors at your bedside, and the occasional sound of loud footsteps from outside the door of your room. Bishop didn’t move a muscle, unable to do anything besides stare at you and trace his fingers over the knuckles of your good hand.

You let out a quiet groan as you started to wake up. His eyes widened, his grip on your hand tightening ever so slightly in anticipation. You fought to open your eyes, exhaustion still weighing heavily on you. your eyes slowly started to flutter open and you began to register what was happening around you—you felt the warmth of Bishop’s hand clasping yours and you could hear the hitch in his breathing.

“Obispo?” your voice was raspy with sleep, and residual pain from everything you’d been through.

He let out a sob that turned into a laugh of relief, “Querida,” he lifted the back of your hand to his lips, kissing it lightly as he mumbled his words against your skin, “Fuck, it’s so good to hear your voice.”

“Baby?” you said quietly as you tilted your head slightly to get a better look at him.

He lifted his head, “Yea?”

“Come here,” you took your hand out of his and motioned for him to join you on the bed.

“I don’t wanna hurt—”

“I’ll be fine,” you reassured, scooting over to make room for him to join you, your movements slow and rigid as you tried to maneuver without causing yourself more pain.

Bishop carefully settled onto the bed next to you, letting out a deep sigh of relief as he let you lean comfortably against him. He felt your body heat seeping over into him and he couldn’t deny that it was the best thing that he’d felt in a long time, the strongest type of reassurance.

“I love you,” he said quietly, resting his forehead against the side of your head.

“I love you too,” you reached over with your good hand and gently trailed your fingers down the side of his face.

“Hey, sweetheart?” his voice was just above a whisper.

You turned your head to meet his gaze, “Hm?”

He cupped one side of your face in his hand, carefully tracing his thumb along your cheek, sure to avoid glossing over any of the fresh scrapes. His eyes were glassy with tears as he looked at you, and you found yourself with a small, soft smile on your face. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d ever seen Bishop look so vulnerable.

You opened your mouth to say something but before you could get the first syllable out, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, the rough pads of his fingers moving so lightly along your cheek and down to your neck and shoulder. You leaned into him as much as you could without hurting yourself, wishing that you could melt completely into the feeling that you were experiencing with him as the two of you laid together, lips locked. You trailed your fingers through his beard as his lips moved in sync with yours. The slight tension in his body let you know that he was fighting hard against the urge to hold you tight and pull you as close as humanly possible. He was doing everything that he could to make one kiss communicate everything that he wasn’t able to show you otherwise.

When he pulled himself away from you, allowing you to catch your breath, you felt the rigidity in his body start to give way. His forehead rested against yours as he shut his eyes tight, trying to focus on the fact that you were really there with him, that everything was going to be alright.

You knew that there were a million thoughts running through his head, that every person he’d ever lost was coming back to haunt him. You placed a light peck on his lips as you rested your hand on his chest, “We’re alright, Obispo.”

His breath came out shaky as he nodded, “We’re alright.”

There were a few beats of silence as the two of you laid together. Bishop’s eyes were closed as he tried to focus solely on the feel of your body leaning against his. You were fighting the urge to fall back to sleep again, wanting to soak up the small comfort of having him with you for the time being.

You saw someone appear in the doorway. Forcing your eyes to focus, you realized it was Hank. A small smile crossed your face as you nudged Bishop, who immediately opened his eyes and glanced over at the door.

“Oh,” Hank rested his hand on the back of his neck, clearly knowing that he was interrupting, “I was just checking…I just wanted to make sure…I’ll just…it looks like you’re all good here so…”

“We’re good,” you said quietly with a laugh, “Thank you, Hank.”

“Yea, of course,” he diverted his gaze to Bishop, “I’m gonna head back. If you need anything just, you know, call.”

He didn’t wait for a response before disappearing down the hall out of sight. You looked up at Bishop and you could see all the thoughts swirling around behind his eyes, “You owe him an apology of some kind, don’t you?”

He chuckled, lightly kissing your temple, “You sure you’re not concussed or something?”

“You better say sorry when you see him again, Obispo,” you looked up at him.

“Shh,” he smiled, kissing you on the lips, “go back to sleep.”

You couldn’t help but to laugh, “You’re lucky I’ve only got one good arm right now.”

“I’m lucky for that reason and so many more,” he rested his forehead against yours, weight settling back onto his shoulders as he thought about what the gravity of the situation could’ve been, “You’re the strongest fucking person that I know.”

You smiled, brushing your nose against his, “We’re okay, baby,” you reassured him, “We’re safe.”

“Yea,” he placed a tender kiss on your lips, “We’re safe.”