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figsnpassionfruits · 9 months ago

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Paint Away, My Little Dove

A/N: welcome to my very first imagine. This takes place right away the gang arrives at Horseshoe Overlook. It is somewhat canon but you will figure that out as you read. English is not my first language, so in case there is anything you notice, please message me! I hope you enjoy as much as I enjoyed writing this <3 word count: 2k tags: arthur morgan x fem!reader, fluff, age gap dividers by: @strangergraphics-archive pictures are from pinterest

Oh yes, the fields of Big Valley. What a sight they were. Each careful brush stroke you were making was an attempt to recreate the unforgettable beauty of the scenery in front of you. The love-songs of the birds around you filled the silence in the air as you dipped your brush into one color, then into another, to create the shade you needed for the details of the Bluebonnets. All day you’ve been sitting on your small wooden stool, your glutes and back slightly sore, but the will to finish this piece before the sun went down was stronger than the pain.

Your two horses were to your side, roaming around the violet flower field. In order to make them comfortable you had removed them from your wagon and their reigns. Every once in a while, you would hear their hooves stomp on the ground as they were snacking on the fresh grass. Spring was just starting to come in. ‘The grass must be tasting sweet for them’, you thought to yourself.

Most of your days were spent like this. It included finding a pretty spot with different elements of nature, such as mountains, trees, riverbanks and forests. Then you would proceed to paint it on your canvases. Some paintings were small enough to fit into a saddlebag, others big enough to compliment homes. Your wagon was able to stash all your supplies and works. At the end of each day, you would pack up everything, set up a camp, and sleep, excited to see where the next day and trail would bring you to. After the soreness in your wrists starts to settle in, building up too much discomfort to ignore, you would go into the nearby town to sell your art. Earning a living with art is not necessarily easy, but it is most definitely amusing, especially when you encounter folks who do not really know about the value of it. Therefore you knew your target group: People with too much money in their pockets who do not question the overly-expensive prices. Sure, sometimes it would work, other times it would not. But it was enough to get you food to fill your belly and the supplies you needed to get by.

Scrunching your eyebrows, you swat away the bees buzzing near your ear, annoyed at them pulling you out of your focus.

“What’cha painting there?”

“Whatever is in front of me…” You mumbled. You couldn’t help but let out a tiny sigh, followed by small eyeroll, before turning around swiftly, facing the stranger who asked. “Could you please leave?”

“Excuse me?” He chuckled.

Placing your brush on the small wooden plate of the stand in front of you, you rubbed your temple. “I apologize-“ You giggled. “I just get so caught up in my work. Can’t afford no distractions.”

“Aghhh” The stranger groaned, getting down from his horse, “I get it. No apology needed.” He said, putting his hands up in a light-hearted way, as he kept walking towards you. By closing the distance between both of you, you allowed yourself to take a better look at him, analyzing his clothes, trying to understand who or what he was. Maybe a potential customer? What price range could you offer him, which would be enough to profit you, but not too much to the point of scaring him away. Or maybe, he was perhaps just a curious man, intrigued by people. In that case, offering him a price was maybe not a necessary thing to do. Weighing out your options, you decided to be blunt and tell him right away.

“Seventy-five for this one.”

The stranger took a step back, looking back and forth between you and the unfished painting. “Seventy-five?!” He exclaimed. “The yellow in that better be liquid gold.”

A small shrug with a self-satisfied smile is what he got in return.

He was indeed very handsome. Broad shoulder that stretched his shirt, beautiful light eyes that could reflect objects in his vision like a mirror and a mustache slightly longer than his stubble. He seemed like a well-groomed man. Well-groomed usually equivalents to a decent amount of money. Unless he was a con-artist.

“Beautiful horses ya got there” He nodded over to the direction of where your wagon was placed.

Following his point of direction, you turned around. Those horses really were beautiful, such as the bond you had with them. “Thank you.” You replied softly.

A small moment of silence occurred as you both individually took in the scenery and everything nature had to offer for you. It truly was beautiful. The way the snowy mountains up north were looking over the river, which was flowing through the flower field, seemed unreal. The combined sounds of the birds, bears, coyotes, deer and bees further blocked out your other senses. It was peace.

“How come you haven’t painted ‘em?”

“Hm?” You hummed.

A small giggle left his lips as he smiled, his eyes glued to his slightly dirt-covered boots for a split second. “Ya horses. How come you haven’t painted ‘em?” He repeated, kicking a few small stones around.

“Oh- I guess… I just like sticking to landscapes. Haven’t really figured out how to make the animals look good.” You admitted.

He nodded understandingly, his gaze roaming around the fields again. Unexpectedly, he took another step towards you, offering you his wide and strong looking hand. “Arthur Morgan”

You waited for a second yet flashed him a small smile right before you bit your lip. “Y/N L/N” The corners of your lips quirked up as you shook the hand in front of you with your own.

Arthur stepped away, tilting his hat down as a polite gesture. “See ya around, Miss.”

“See you, Mr. Morgan.”

..................................................

Valentine… What a lively little town. It had everything you’d need to make a home. A butcher, a store, livestock, a stable and even a saloon. Yet, this was not something you could think about. Having no one to lean on to was not the most uncomplicated thing in the world. But it does allow you to harden your shell and intuitively create different paths of survival. Travelling around was yours.

You had set up a small stand near the theatre, your paintings displayed for every passing person to see. Your horses were in the stable, getting treatments you could never afford for yourself. After all, they were the ones doing all the pulling and walking. If anyone deserves a day off like that, it was them. Strangers would pass by, some only glancing at your creations, others stopping for a few only to admire them. And then they were people who bought. The local folks here had already gotten used to you. This was a great spot to sell, especially during the tourist seasons. The hotel was never empty during this time of the year. The fancy and rich from up north loved the sun. So, to take advantage of those, you would come here twice a year. Anytime they would show up, you were here as well. Waiting for potential customers could get a tad bit boring but sitting on a nice cushion helped.

You were picking out the dirt from under your nails when precipitously the Sheriffs frame came into your sight.

“Miss L/N! How are you this fine afternoon?” He cheered as he walked past.

“Thank you, Sheriff, I am fine.” You smiled back at him, finally leaving your nails alone. Your eyes followed his strut, trying to block out your envy. He was a man after all. Being a woman in these times was not easy. A home was something you could only dream of if you belonged to a man, whether that is being a daughter or a wife. Legally owning property? That was not anything that women should even be thinking of.

The sound of wooden wheels rolling and cheery singing of female voices made you glance towards the direction it came from. It was a wagon, its back filled with women, each more gorgeous than the other, while the front had two men seated on it. Once the movement and tunes came to a halt, everyone on it got off, splitting ways on where to go. Yet one of the men came right towards you.

“Miss L/N.” Arthur greeted, trailing to you and your tiny gallery.

Attempting to block out the sun with your hand, you smiled up at him from your cushion. “Hello, Mr. Morgan. Changed your mind on the seventy-five dollars?”

“God, no.” He snickered, bending down to take a better look at one of the smaller paintings. The lake portrayed in it seemed familiar to him. ‘Of course’ Arthur thought. ‘How could I forget this place.’. It was the small cabin at O’Creagh’s Run, which belonged to the veteran he occasionally hunted with.

“You seem to like that one, though.” You pointed out.

“Ya didn’t say this was seventy-five. Scared me off with the one from Big Valley.”

‘Yeah, maybe that was a bit too much.’ You pondered as you clicked your tongue. Before allowing silence to settle in, you asked him what he was doing here.

“Could ask you the same thing.” He said amused.

Even though you only had two conversations with this man, it was fun. The back-and-forth banter was not something everyone could keep up with you, let alone a man who would not get offended by a sassy woman.

“I get by here usually twice a year. The tourists love the landscapes. Makes their homes look nice. You should try.” You suggested.

Arthur let out a small chuckle, this time thoroughly taking his time looking through your art. His gaze was fixated on the smaller canvases. One of those could fit nicely into his saddlebag. Not that he had the space for a bigger piece. Roaming his eyes between two, one that looked similar to the Dakota River, the other a smaller version of the floral area around O’Creagh’s Run. The positive association of his friendship with the veteran Hamish made him point at the second one. “I like that one.”

You turned, picking up the named piece. “This one I would give out for fifty, since it is obviously smaller. But for you, since we are now associates,” You giggled “I will hand it out for… thirty-five.”

Even though this offer was better than the other, Arthur could not help but shake his head, a smile not going unnoticed. “Alright, alright.” He pulled out the money from his pocket. “Only because it’s near a friends house.”

You took his money, whispering the numbers while counting. “Hamish?” You asked.

“Yeah.” It sounded more like a question than a statement. “Ya know the old fella?” Arthur questioned, while taking the painting into his hand.

You hummed, putting the money into your small leather purse. “He took me in one night while I was freezing up there. Sometimes a tiny camp is just not enough. Ever since then I see him as my pa. He’s the sweetest.” You explained, keeping eye contact with Arthur. This was the longest you have had continuously looked at him. His good looks you already have noticed the first day you met. But today, it seemed to sink in. The question of what he was- you still could not answer. “I will head back to him soon. Been out here for weeks now. He must be really worried, too.”

‘That makes sense.’ He thought. No wonder he has not seen you with Hamish before.

“Well, thank you for buying something, Mr. Morgan.” You smiled.

“Please, call me Arthur.”

- 🍯

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #paint away

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thesirencult · 11 months ago

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PICK A GROUP : ESOTERIC MESSAGES MEANT TO FIND YOU

-the above images are from pinterest, the cards depicted in them are random and not directly involved in your reading, pick the deck you feel most comfortable with-

GROUP 1

Sit back and think: "What's the most positive thought I can have about my situation?' Life can bring us down but when we are strictly focusing on the details we make things worse.

See life as a big adventure, ready for you to jump on board and explore. You don't have to be certain where you are going, you just have to believe in yourself, have courage and take action. Sailing into uncharted territory feels scary but it's the only way we can find new lands.

If you believe you can do it, then you can. Commit to your dreams and carry yourself through the storms. Have strong conviction that you'll make it to the other side and nothing can stop you. When we have higher ideas, we tend to withstand more. Stones thrown your way can beused are steps that will take you higher. So, make the best out of every situation, because you can and you deserve to reach the last chapter of this beautiful book, not as the reader, but as the writer.

The secret is you can have whatever you want, but the catch is that you have to believe in yourself.

Prosperity and abundance will find you along the way but be reminded that abundance=wealth=worth=value YOU have assigned to yourself.

GROUP 2

Let me ask you a question, how bad do you want it?

If the answer is really fucking bad then now it's not the time to be a wallflower. Be relentless. Whatever your goal is be bold. Don't be afraid to forge your own path. Self starters are some bad motherfuckers and you are one too, even if you don't feel that you fit the bill.

Strength and leadership are found deep in the heart. You are good hearted and that means you have a strong, visceral, heart force-energy. Reconsider what tha means. Kindness is not weakness but strength we choose to use for good.

Connect with your sacral chakra and the energy of the creator. Something new is starting for you and you need to take the lead.

Speak up, roar, take charge of your destiny. The obstacles will be removed from your path as soon as you realize you have the ability to overcome them. Take care !

GROUP 3

Your issue is your inner voice, a voice that has been created by fears and insecurities and its only goal is to scare you away from your dreams. Don't listen to that voice. It's not yours, but a mirror image to the negative projections others have placed on you. Silence it by holding your vision.

For a moment, reconsider : have your goals changed, even if you never accomplished them. Different strokes for different folks and different goals for each part of our path. Let go of old expectations you or others have placed upon yourself.

You are safe now, because you are strong, stronger than you think.

You need to put an end to something that's been hindering your journey.

GROUP 4

Trust. A word that I bet makes you emotional. You can not trust many, but don't extend taht to yourself.

You can trust yourself. Repeat that over and over again until you believe it. You can trust the divine. You can trust that nature operates on cycles and luck will find you as soon as you step out of your comfortable negativity.

I want you to believe in the impossibe because in the near future a RARE chance will come your way. Luck will smile at you and you have to be ready to take that leap of faith.

What's happened up until now can not be reversed. Sit down and write on a piece of paper what you don't like about your situation. Regroup. You fought long and hard and now it's the time to count your losses and start preparing for the next chapter, victory.

#astrology #tarot reading #level up journey #tarot #pick a card #pac reading #pick a pile #soulmate #pick a picture #pick a photo #intuitive messages #intuitive readings #channeled message #tarotreading #psychic #intuitive #psychic readings #tarotcommunity #self development

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racergirl-112 · 6 months ago

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Push Me Over - Chapter 4: So It Goes...

18++++++***** MDNI!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

WARNINGS: SMUT. Mentions of death. P n V, unprotected (wrap it up folks). Oral receiving, fingering. but really this is the chapter you've been waiting for. 😘🥵🥵 *** I wrote this chapter to the song So it Goes by Taylor Swift**

(not my picture. Photo cred: Pinterest)

Dani got home a little later. She spent the night tossing and turning, thinking about Hugh and the super hot kiss they shared. The words he said to her, making her mind race. He had asked her to maybe get coffee and maybe if they did that and she got to know him, it would help get him out of her mind. She decided she was going to ask him that day.

After the grueling day of filming they had, Dani saw Hugh walking back to his trailer and decided it was now or never.

“Hugh,” she called out. He turned around, a smile crossing his face.

“What’s up darlin’?” he asked.

“Would you like to get coffee with me?”

“When?” he asked.

“Now? Or whenever you’re done?” she replied.

“Let me get changed.”

“Cool, I’ll be in my trailer.”

As she waited for Hugh in her trailer, scrolling her phone, her heart began to race. It was going to be just the two of them. It’s fine. You’re just co-stars, maybe potential friends. Get him out of your system, he’s old enough to be your father. She was lost in her overthinking when there was a knock on her trailer door.

“Come in,” she said, as the door began to swing open. Hugh walked in, wearing his signature tight black t-shirt and jeans. Goddammit he’s fine.

“Hi darlin’. Are you ready?” he asked. Dani nodded. They began to walk over to where their cars were parked. “Want me to drive?”

“That’s fine,” she answered. A smile crossed his face as he opened the passenger door for her. She had a surprised look on her face when he got in the car.

“What’s the look for?” he asked with a laugh.

“I’ve never had a guy do that for me before and I’m from the South,” she replied. Hugh started up the car as they took off.

“Well, sounds like you haven’t been around real gentlemen.” The comment took Dani aback, but it made her smile as they looked for a coffee shop.

A little while later, they found a perfect little coffee shop out of the way as they sat there together.

“Other than you being extremely feisty and can fucking sing, tell me more about yourself,” Hugh started. Dani looked taken aback, but she was ready. She took a sip of her latte and began talking.

“Well, I’m originally from Georgia. My real name is Danielle Olivia James-Levy, but because of the Levy acting family, I chose to go by Danielle James, my mother’s maiden name. I went to school for Business, thinking I wasn’t going to go into the family business, but fell in love with theater when I was there and got a dual major.”

“Wow, beautiful and smart. I knew you acted, but I didn’t know you did theater. Is that where the singing comes from?,” Hugh asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Yeah, it’s something I don’t get to do a whole lot of. I would do small shows in between acting gigs, while working a real job, until something happened. The singing thing on the other hand, that’s something I’ve done since I was kid. I’d walk around singing, enough for everyone to tell me to shut up once in a while.” She looked over at Hugh who couldn’t take his eyes off of her. “So, enough about me. How about you?”

He raised an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair. “Well, there isn’t too much about me that you can’t find online. Well, other than what I mentioned to you the other day.”

“I’m sorry you’re going through that. Do you want to talk about it?” Dani asked. Hugh’s eyes got soft, almost like sadness came through them.

“We don’t have to sweetheart,” he started.

“You listened to me and I promised you I’d listen,” a warm smile crossed her face.

“Well, my ex-wife and I had been married for almost 27 years. We met back on a TV show in Australia. She was older and I thought she was out of my league, but it worked out. Unfortunately, we weren’t able to have biological children of our own, but we adopted two wonderful kids. Now that the kids are older and have their own lives, I guess during Covid, we were spending so much time together, it felt more like a friendship than a marriage and got worse during the writer’s strike. We did everything we could to save it, but we both felt like the relationship had run its course. It just feels weird.”

“Like you’ve been in the relationship so long, you don’t know where to go next. I mean I’ve had my share of relationships, but nothing of that caliber. I commend you for making a relationship work in Hollywood, especially when you’re as big a star as you are.You just don’t see that anymore.” “That’s very sweet,” he answered. “I’m curious about something you didn’t mention. Shawn is your Uncle, how’s the relation work?”

Dani took a long sip of her latte before beginning. “Well, My dad was Shawn’s older brother, but passed away in a car accident when I was 25. It was something we asked to keep out of the public and the reason I shelved my dreams for a while. My mom still lives in Georgia with her new husband, finally happy again.” She looked over at him and he had a surprised look on his face.

His hand reached across the table, grabbing hers. “I’m sorry about you dad, sweetheart. I lost mine in 2020, his eyes meeting hers. The more she was around this man, she was finding it harder to not want to be with him. Fuck the age difference.

“Thank you. I’m sorry about your dad too,” she replied as he squeezed her hand. She kept looking over at him, not being able to take her eyes off of the gorgeous man in front of her and it looked like he was on the same page. “I guess it's getting late.”

He nodded as they left the cafe and got into his car. He opened her door for her as he took off. He turned on some music and So it Goes… by Taylor Swift began to drift through the radio. She glanced over at Hugh driving and felt her heart racing, not knowing what was going to happen next. He caught her stare as his hand reached over and found her leg. They stopped at a red light as Dani went for it.

“Hugh,” she breathed, coming over the center console and kissing him. He reciprocated, but then the light changed. “I’m sorry…,” she started. Before she could get the words out, he pulled the car over in a dark alley as he came over the center console and kissed her. Their lips and tongues in a hot tangled mess. Dani reached for anything she could, to be closer to this man. He pulled back and cupped her face.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t stop myself and I won’t unless you want me to,” he started.

“Your place or mine?” Dani breathed. Hugh drove to his flat immediately.

They all but kicked down the door to his flat as they stayed intertwined. The second the door shut behind them, Hugh picked her up and carried her to the bedroom. Her legs wrapped around his waist, as his hands cupped her ass, their kissing, feverish.

As they fell on the bed, he braced himself above her, getting lost in her green eyes. “Are you sure about this?” he asked. She nodded her head as she sat up and yanked her shirt over her head followed by her bra and threw them on the floor. He followed suit and his shirt ended up in the pile on the floor. He went for the waistband of her leggings, slowly pulling them down with her panties. “Fuck,” he groaned, taking in the naked woman in his bed.

“Pants off, Jackman,” she ordered, a smirk on her face.

“Yes ma’am,” he replied, undoing his belt, and kicking off his pants and boxers, crawling over her.

Dani propped herself up on her elbows and looked at the man in front of her. He may be 55 years old, but he was built like a fucking god. From the way his muscles bulged to the way his v-line was sculpted. Then she caught sight of the happy trail of hair that led to his perfect dick. God he was huge.

He began kissing her lips before moving to her neck, making her arch into him. He liked her reaction as he continued down her body, to her breasts as he circled each peak with his tongue, while never breaking eye contact.

“Fuck,” she moaned. He added to her pleasure as she felt the pad of his finger on her clit.

“Sweetheart, so wet for me,” he groaned, moving down her body and to her pussy. His tongue began soft strokes, before he plugged right in. She cried out at that feeling as she grabbed for his hair as he pulled her down to the end of the bed to devour her even more. The feeling of his facial hair added to the pleasure.

This man has experience.

“I can’t…,” she cried out, letting her orgasm go.

“God, you taste so good sweetheart,” he replied, wiping her juices from his beard and moving back over her. He stilled above her for a moment, realizing something. “Princess, I wasn’t planning on sex tonight, so I’m not prepared.”

“I’m on birth control, Hugh. I need you too much to stop now,” Dani answered, pulling him down to her as their lips locked and she tasted herself on him. His long fingers found her soaking core as he began pumping just enough to get her honey on him as he stroked it down his cock. He grabbed ahold of himself as he teased her with his tip at her entrance.

“You ready sweetheart?” he asked. Dani nodded as he began to push himself inside. He stilled for a moment at how tight she was and that if he began to move, he might just bust.

“Move, please,” she begged. His hips began to move slowly, savoring every moment with Dani. The hold this woman had on him in a short amount of time was baffling, but god, did he feel something with her. Her lips on his, her nails digging into his back, the way she molded to him.

Dani’s hip movements began to meet his own and he felt like he might be a goner. He grabbed her hands with his, interlacing their fingers, pressing them into the mattress sending them both spirling and fast. “God sweetheart, you are fucking perfect,” he said, kissing her.

Her heart began to race again as electricity shot through her body at his words and his movements as she clenched down on him and hard. He wanted to be as close to her as possible as his forehead touched hers as he knew he was done for.

“Fuck,” he groaned, as he chased his own release, white-hot ropes, coating her insides. He finished as he stayed locked on her, both panting and sweaty. The connection between the two of them, intensifying. He pulled out as their releases flooded out of Dani, turning Hugh on even more. He got out of bed to his bathroom to clean up and brought her back a towel.

“Sorry, the old man hasn’t done this in a while, so I wasn’t prepared,” he said with a laugh, getting back in bed.

“You’re fine,” she replied.

“Come here,” he said, offering his arm. Dani moved over and cuddled into him as he kissed her forehead. “Did the old man do ok?” he asked.

“More than ok. You were fucking phenominal,” she replied, drawing circles on his chest and feeling across his toned abs. “Can I tell you something?” He raised an eyebrow at her question.

“Sure, sweetheart.”

“First of all, stop calling yourself old man. Second, I may have known what you looked like from your movies, but until I saw you at dinner, I never knew how attracted I was to you. I went home that night and the night after you came to my trailer and got myself off to the thoughts of you.”

Hugh began stroking her hair. “Well, sweetheart, that’s definitely not what I thought you were going to say, but since the night of the dinner, I can’t be in a room and not think about the bad things I want to do to you.”

“So, it sounds like we’re on the same page,” she answered, putting her head on his chest.

“Yes sweetheart, it does,” he answered. Hugh interlaced their hands, wrapping his arms tighter around her, knowing that with Dani he felt a new chapter of happiness.

#hugh jackman #daddy k!nk #fanfic #hugh jackman smut #deadpool x wolverine #hugh jackman fanfic #logan wolverine smut #older guys #deadpool #logan howlett #james logan howlett #deadpool 3 #logan #deadpool vs wolverine #deadpool wolverine

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writteninlunarlight-years · 4 months ago

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The Real Housewives Of Pride

Pt 1 | Pt 3

Well, well, well, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, thems and they hell even the gays, gather 'round your radios and settle in, for it’s that delightful time of the week again—welcome back to another uproarious installment of “The Real Housewives of Pride,” where the laughter is as contagious as watching that one person yawn for an overly long period of time!

Now, folks, it seems our charming couples and delightful guests are turning up the heat—oh, my stars!—entangling themselves in ways that would make a contortionist jealous! With our dear king Lucifer flapping his wings and strutting around like he owns the place after his long absence from the royal swing, the lines between hotel guests and power players are as blurred and as foggy as an early morning in May!

And speaking of fog, let me illuminate your minds with a thrilling tidbit: a shiny new casino has popped up in our lovely little town! Yes indeed, and let me tell you, it was the scene of a fierce battle of souls—like a poker game gone horribly, hilariously wrong! But oh dear listener, brace yourself, for our buddy Vox didn’t just lose a hand; he lost the whole pot! And who’s there to relay the juicy gossip on that confounded cellular device? None other than the ever-so-charming Miss Y/N, bless her heart!

Now, onward and upward, folks! Val—our resident filmmaker—decided to unleash a new ‘movie’ into the world, but alas! It flopped harder than a pancake at a clumsy chef’s award-winning cook-off! Why, well listeners, our dear Angel Dust was no longer the shining star of the show with his new role as Husk's right-hand lover!

Fear not, for our lovely Y/N found herself in the spotlight after a hilarious mix-up with her partner, Lucifer. Oh yes, the King of Hell himself decided to play a little prank by snatching her phone—hoping for some devilish delight! But instead? Oh, it backfired like a faulty firecracker on the Fourth of July!

And now, hold onto your hats, because here comes the piping hot tea, as you young folks say! Miss Carmilla has stepped into the ring, offering our hotel inhabitants the chance to learn how to fight for themselves! What a generous gesture, folks! Not only is it a blessing from our overlord, but it’s also opening the doors to a brand-new understanding of angelic weaponry.

Let’s hope our certain pesky pals learn a thing or two about keeping their lips zipped—though I wouldn’t hold my breath because I’ll be back next week with more tantalizing tales from the wild world of Hell right here in Pride!

Disclaimer: All 'tweets' are fake and made by me. The words/tweets I do are a combination of my own and ones I find on Pinterest and Ifunny. If you know the actual creators or those who made some jokes, please DM me so I can credit them. Thank you!

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multiplicity-positivity · 5 months ago

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do you have any tips for making a more welcoming/friendly headspace? over the past four years where we've known about our plurality, every headspace we've succeeded in creating has been... kind of gloomy, and impersonal, almost? one was a dimly lit room with dark hallways and such, and everything looked kind of run down and broken. our current one is a lot more clean and purposeful, but it kind of has the same energy as a school or work building, with cold overhead lights and very little decoration. it also has the same issue with long hallways that look kind of creepy and ominous. these places have/had pretty chill vibes i think, but they look like the setting for a psychological horror movie, despite the fact that we didn't originally visualize them that way •́⁠ ⁠ ⁠‿⁠ ⁠,⁠•̀

-🦇/🦀

Hiya! We think that headspaces can work a bit differently for different systems, but visualization and imagination are usually big parts of the headspace-creation process! They might sometimes need to require some conscious maintenance in order to preserve their vibes. Occasionally areas of our own headspace can get a bit fuzzy or change in unwanted ways if we don’t spend time consciously working on them and adjusting them to reflect how we want them to appear! >w<

That being said, maybe y’all can try setting aside some time like once a week or something to work on changing the vibes of your headspace? By doing things like imagining what you want for your headspace or even actively doing construction work internally!

If you’re looking for inspiration, Pinterest and Unsplash are both great places to search for images that fit a certain aesthetic, scenery, or vibe! And we also set up the blog @headspace-visuals recently where we will do our best to help folks find some images to help inspire their headspace building process :33

If you haven’t before, it could be useful to check out some guides on building headspaces! In our headspace post we include links where folks can learn more about headspaces with tips for building their own >w<

Headspaces can be really really vast, and I do think some systems have headspaces which are not so easily adjusted or changed. We aren’t sure how y’all’s headspace works, but if you find you can’t really consciously change much about your headspace, maybe y’all could try leaving to find a different area to settle? And keep in your mind an idea of what you’d like to find ideally so that you’re more likely to stumble across it? Idk, this is just a thought!

But we do hope this helps somewhat! We hope y’all can find success with improving the vibes of your headspace! And if anyone else who reads this has tips for 🦇/🦀, please feel welcome to share! :3

#headspace #headspaces #inner world #innerworld #🦇/🦀

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aziraphales-library · 9 months ago

Note

Hi folks!

Thank you for what you do for this fandom.

I have a request not for a specific fic but for any that have funny prompts, or crack ones.

An example that comes to mind is a fic I read recently where Crowley takes up a gig as an Uber driver after Armaggedidn’t.

Looking to laugh a little after that angsty finale😓 Thank you!❤️

We have a #crack tag with loads of fics for you look through (including that uber driver one, somewhere). Here are more to add to the collection...

Summons To Appear… by organized_tomfoolery (G)

Crowley has avoided jury duty for over 6000 years and now there's Hell to pay.

Cunk on Aziraphale by gaydreaming (T)

Philomena Cunk's new special, Cunk on Books, brings Philomena to the bookshop of a certain ethereal bookworm. Things get off task rather quickly as Philomena expands her horizons and Aziraphale makes a new friend.

It is the Eastern Gate and You’re the Sun by Dancer_in_the_rain (G)

Even from his distant position on the balcony Aziraphale could see his hard swallow that made his Adam’s apple bob up and down. Aziraphale himself didn’t feel much better. Should he say something? But what was he supposed to say to all of this?! His mind was still reeling when he heard a voice call out loudly: ”But soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east and You are the sun!” Or: I found this prompt on Pinterest: “I’m on a balcony at some dude’s party and you just started loudly quoting some Romeo and Juliet at me from below” and it was just so insanely Aziracrow-coded, I couldn’t NOT write about it!

An Angel, a Demon, and a Very Concerned Ape by yetrop (G)

“Don’t take it up with me, take it up with the creator of the game.” “Who’s the creator of the game?” Aziraphale thought back to what it said when they had first turned it on. “An ape, apparently.” “They’re all apes,” said Crowley, “Doesn’t narrow it down much.” “Well, yes, but this one is concerned.” “Concerned with what?” Aziraphale glanced at the screen, hoping to find some kind of further explanation somewhere. “Doesn’t say.” Crowley convinces Aziraphale to give a modern video game a try.

Queerly Good by InkRiver10 (G)

Aziraphale is nominated by Crowley to appear on Queer Eye. Hilarity ensues.

Hive Mind by braveatironheart (G)

Mr. Brown always knew he was meant for more than Whickber Street. He's done his best with the Street Traders and Shopkeepers Association, but he's sure his talents could be put to better use. It must be a miracle, then, that he finds himself in the bowels of a large corporation plagued by poor vertical communication and an utter lack of carpeting - how else could he have gotten lost on his way to the pub? When he runs into Mr. Fell, who not only holds a leadership position but is woefully behind on his paperwork, Mr. Brown realizes he's stumbled upon the opportunity of an (after)lifetime. Aziraphale is full of regret. Mr. Brown is full of ideas. It's a match made in Heaven - and, as Aziraphale is quickly discovering, that's practically synonymous with a match made in Hell. aka Mr. Brown hastens Aziraphale's return to Earth by annoying the ever-living shit out of him.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #crack #mod d

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radioisntdead · 3 months ago

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Thanksgiving headcanons

Well, Good news! You don't have to worry about anyone arguing about politics or whatever like some family get togethers, bad news, It's thanksgiving in literal hell.

Alastor calls dibs on cooking, everyone is banned from the kitchen or at least they're SUPPOSED TO BE.

Forbid he leaves for ONE MINUTE and the devil himself is sneaking in trying to mess with the sides that are simmering on the stove or about to be put into the oven, or you're trying to snag a bite before dinner's ready and Alastor is swinging at you with his microphone like a deranged baseball player.

Charlie eventually gets her dad to settle to make dessert, I'd be nervous about eating the apple pie made by the literal devil if I were you but, you do you!

Also be sure to eat something before 6:33 am because that's when Alastor takes over the kitchen, if you don't, you're starving until dinner time

Charlie has Thanksgiving decorations out, I can't find any unhinged ones on Pinterest so uh something like this

Very glowy.

Charlie and Vaggie are wearing matching sweaters, something like these I imagine

Or alternatively.

No I will NOT be taking any criticisms at this time.

Fat nuggets is also wearing a little pig sweater, may or may not be matching with Angel.

For obvious reasons Angel keeps Fat nuggets FAR away from the kitchen and Alastor.

GAMES LOTS AND LOTS OF GAMES, Husk is beating everyone's asses at poker, Angel nearly strangles you over monopoly, Vaggie is oddly great at operation, Frank somehow manages to win at Scrabble, maybe because it kinda sounds like scrambled.

Niffty's cleaning up every single mess, Alastor keeps having to nudge her out of the kitchen.

The hotel smells great, say what you want about Alastor, YOU CANNOT DENY THAT DEER CAN COOK.

Someone throws a burnt turkey through the hotel's window, breaking it.

May or may not have been Adam.

There's at least one musical number.

Hallmark Hellmark movies are being played and made fun of, some are good others are... Not.

Dinner time is a first come first serve situation, everyone goes in and makes their plate then sits down at the table.

Alastor's made the turkey, Gravy, the best bread rolls in all of hell, stuffing, all types of mashed potatoes, anything you can think of he's made it.

Fat nuggets, Keekee and Frank have their own table, No one was really sure where to put Frank,

can he even eat?? he's an egg... Thing...

Anyways that's the kids table technically.

Now I did say that no one is arguing over politics or whatever, but Alastor and Lucifer are vaguely threatening each other?

Angel finds dinner and a show very entertaining,

Charlie tries to get everyone to say what they're thankful for.

It does NOT go well.

After dinner everyone's stuffed, Husk is snoring like someone's dad curled up on a recliner, where did the recliner come from?? Did they have a recliner before?? Who knows but Husk is snoozin' on that now.

You're holding Niffty like a plushie and snoozing away on the couch.

Charlie puts on some movie that mostly everyone is going to pass out watching.

Alastor packs up some of dinner and vanishes from the hotel for awhile, likely to visit cannibal town.

The hotel has Thanksgiving leftovers for a week or so after.

A pretty decent thanksgiving for hell, can't wait to see how Christmas would go.

GOOD EVENIN' FOLKS HAPPY THANKSGIVING! I hope you all have a wonderful day and eat loads of tasty foods, if you have to be around family members you'd rather not be I wish you luck!

Anyways I do hope you enjoyed this and as always thank you for tunin' on in, thank you and goodnight!

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you

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svnnygraves · 1 month ago

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[ … ] ❀ you’re not from around here , are you? i figured because you totally just missed { SUNNY GRAVES } walking by. don’t tell me you don’t know who { SHE } is ? they kind of look like { OLIVIA COOKE } and i could be wrong but i think that they might be { 29 } years old right now. they’ve been living in palmview for the last { TWENTY YEARS }. and i don’t know if anyone has ever told them this before but they kind of remind me of { JANIS IAN } from { MEAN GIRLS }. if you stick around the town long enough you might catch them in action working at { MARINA MARKET } as a { CASHIER }. you see this town isn’t really that big of a place, some folks like to call them the { THE MISCREANT } of palmview! they took a liking to the name too after a while, go figure. oh crap, they must have heard me yapping. they’re coming this way. i got to warn you though, rumor has it they can pretty { CONNIVING } at times. i wouldn’t take it too seriously though, from the times i’ve spoken to them they seemed pretty { WITTY } to me. we see each other all the time since they live in that { ONE BEDROOM } apartment beside me over in { MANGO BAY }. i better leave you to it. it was nice meeting you!

☾ playlist. ☾ pinterest. ☾ muse. ☾ connections.

━━ ⟢ i. the basics

full name: sunny louise graves birthday: 06/12/1995 big three: gemini sun, sagittarius moon, scorpio rising height: 5'5" mbti: infj sexual orientation: bisexual hometown: point pleasant, west virginia

━━ ⟢ i. personality tidbits

has held a grudge for anyone who's ever done or said anything bad to her

probably regularly comissions etsy witches for hexes

has that anxious avoidant attachment style that makes her go swerve when she feels someone pulling away™️

she's a chronic ghoster 😔

she's pretty guarded but lowkey she's a hopeless romantic, although i don't thinks she'd even know what to do with a relationship that was healthy. she's like a dog chasing a car tbh

she can be very all or nothing in regards to that so like you may get a text from her once every other week or she’ll bomb you with them all at once in a span of five minutes

she thinks she's a great friend, but she's intense so she's not for everyone

struggles with anger issues, has outbursts that usually happen at the worst possible time

her hometown is where mothman was famously cited, and yeah she makes that a personality trait

she practices witchcraft and has an altar to the deities she worships

she loves to believe in the unbelievable, ghosts, aliens, anything paranormal, she's all over that

she's unconciously very self motivated, but lowkey thinks she does things for other people's benefits

she tends to have a criminal mindset and lacks boundaries stemming from her own upbringing

she doesn't really see anything wrong with crime as long as it in her eyes is justified

actively is always scheming her revenge, never get too comfortable she's coming even if it's years in the process :/

playlists are her love language!!!!1

finds comfort in meditation instead of going fucking insane, sometimes both

always falls for emotionally unavailable people, a lot of times her bosses or people not available 😭

very into metaphysics like tarot, astrology, etc

loves horror movies and probably watches at least one a day (probably while she’s eating dinner ngl)

━━ ⟢ i. go deeper

tw: alcohol, drug use, abuse, suicide

m o m m y i s s u e s 🥳

sunny grew up in a tumultuous household with her parents always fighting and money was always tight

it wasn’t until she was 9 that she moved to palmview where she was hopeful things would improve since her father landed a better job, but things quickly deteriorated

as she got older her mom developed bad habits with drugs, and her father coped with alcohol

as a byproduct she was kind of abandoned emotionally, and didn’t really have anyone to turn to

her mom was self medicating a larger problem under the surface, and sunny had the misfortune of walking in on her mom trying on several occasions to take her own life

as a result she couldn’t focus in school or, would hyper focus on the wrong things and daydream instead of listening in her classes

got the rep of not only the new kid, but the weird new kid

and as things usually happen, one day when her guard was down because her mom appeared to be doing better, so she decided to go hang out at a friend’s house after school one day.

when she returned home later than normal, she walked around her house looking for her mom. to her disbelief, she found her mom hanging from the shower curtain rod, and was in denial that her mom was really gone since she’d always caught it in time before.

hours later her father found sunny holding her mom up talking to her limp body about how she made a friend at school finally.

when the emts arrived on scene trying to load her mom onto the stretcher, sunny wouldn’t allow them to take her mom away from her until her dad had to physically pick her up and carry her away

she blamed herself for not being there for her mom sooner

she hasn’t ever really dealt with her mother’s death, i think in a way she tried to acquaint herself closely with death instead. she would buy ouija boards trying to contact her mother from the other side. hire psychic mediums, go to palm readers, anything for a sign from her mom. i think her anger really manifested more after her mom's passing, and caused her to stop caring as much about the consequences of the law because she felt like she had nothing more to lose.

━━ ⟢ i. connections

literally anything and everything

people she’s once passed on the street and projected romantic fantasies on, friends, friends of a friend, cousins, exes, ex hookups, ex situationships, enemies, neighbors, regulars at the market she works at, old co-workers, old classmates, old classmates that used to bully her, someone she's stolen from, people from places she's vandalized, etc etc gimme gimme gimme

#palmviewintro #about #* *˖ ⊹ filed under ╲ sunny muse ⋅

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court-jobi · 2 years ago

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Trustfall

(gif from Pinterest)

Pairing: Din Djarin x biker!Reader

Words: 8,865

Rating: Teen & Up, (mature themes, but not graphic)

Warnings: canon-typical violence, chase scene action, catcalling, skeevey sleemos, brief descrip of injuries/roadburn, consensual touching, injury care, FEELINGS, fluff to intimacy, first kiss #thehelmetcomesoff ((fem reader, mild descriptions of features, hair etc.))

Summary: Most jobs' occupational hazards may include some warnings for heavy machinery: not 3rd degree roadburn and blaster shots to the face. Just your luck, that's what happens in your line of work.... While your partner-in-not-quite-crime Din Djarin has quite a bit of on-the-job experience with patching himself up after his skirmishes, tending to yourself after a shitshow like this is new territory. Some things are just too tender to see from behind the helmet-- and need the naked eye.

Sounds like he really needs to trust you if he's going to give you help with this one...

"I'm not going without you- -and you're not going alone" -P!nk, 2023

AN: thank you from the bottom of my heart, internet strangers, for the love for my little stories... this is a long one! here's to the countdown to season 3 finale, and a dose of feminine rage, badassery, and fluff to soften the landing~

For my Star Wars | Mandalorian Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on AO3

Anywhere in the galaxy you turn, there's a place you can navigate like the back of your hand: simply find where the drinks are flowing. Every watering hole may have its tricky language and even trickier problems, but the money's always good, and no questions are asked of you.

At a cantina, you rely on this. Here, you know you can easily fall back to old habits in an instant. Safety first, of course.

The rundown: where's the doors, where's the bouncers, where’s the barkeep and where's the biggest guy in the room. You've trained yourself to look for gaps, low traffic areas where you could make a quick dash out if things are looking sideways. Do all those things as fast as you can, too, because everything can change in a second. Tables can flip over like a credit chip– tempers, all the more quick to the draw. Oh, and don't be suspicious. Give a little smile if you can chance it– unassuming glances always make folks feel better.

But it's a bit different now. You don't bother to look up when you cross the threshold of a new place. You don't dissect all these fine details. After all, you've got a green baby that's twisting in his sling across your hips that has your attention split, and he comes first.

That's a full time job on its own… and whenever he comes along for the day, you don't forget the best part of the arrangement you find yourself in.

You've got a bounty hunter in stride. Worry is the furthest thing from your mind. He’s got you.

Upon first entry, the Mandalorian you've been hyperspace hopping with comes in like he'd likely done hundreds of times before. He's no stranger to reading a room, either. Though this time, with you and the little one tucked away in your crossbody, the company he keeps is completely different. This dynamic is far from your norm, but there’s so many things you love about it– and as it turns out, the feeling is mutual. He tells you so, that you don’t have to worry when he’s with you.

You buckled in the kiddo yourself– a break for Mando's still-tender shoulder. The scuffle you'd just come from not twelve hours ago was still fresh in both your minds– not that your sabacc face showed it. He appreciated your offering to keep tabs and hold him today. Still gotta fix his pod after the 'swimming incident' last week… after this payday, maybe you two could swing it after your winnings arrive.

Heading towards his unofficial corner of this planet's best underground lounge, Mando picked up through his peripherals the bits of chatter– no… -hunger- coming from some of the smaller pods of wranglers. Their attention wasn't due to the shinier beskar plates he wore. No, it was all aimed at his newfound companion.

They're all looking at you… not that you notice.

One in particular caught Mando’s honed attention as you neared, passing him to the bartop while he waited. The man wasn't the biggest in size, but Mando knew this type; that smarmy smile told him he’s thinking himself roguishly handsome, but made of complete slime and bantha-shit.

“Bike’s out back~” you paused by the bar to pick up the drink you’d nodded for, and made a convincing-looking fake sip while sticking close to his side. “-unregistered. Pokka dropped it off this morning for a nearby delivery run. It’s not the prettiest thing, but it’ll do in a pinch for a two-seater.”

Just after that line left your lips, something in the schmuck’s eye and his low murmur to his buddy. A near growl about the ‘not the only thing I'd pinch– pretty thing, coming right up’ made your partner turn with micro-precision in the direction of the smugglers–

–and catch your hand with a fierceness. Right in front of their table.

You're surprised by the sudden gesture.

When he did let go around the back of the row of booths, the Mandalorian more or less guided you by the small of your back instead. If anyone were invested enough past their drink's contents to be watching, they’d find you in a half embrace. This move allowed Mando the space to tuck you into his side with a corralling arm. You'd honestly not registered what he’d witnessed until he fell back to your pace with a gentle ‘this way’. A pod of spacers were gawking– at the shiny guy loaded to the gils with blasters, you thought.

Now closer, you had less room, but still managed enough to swing the munchkin to your front. The ‘bag’ made a little noise- an indignant question at your description of the ride you’d secured.

“Sorry, excuuuse me- three seater! Two and a half more like, with your size...”

Situating yourself with some disappointed looks your way, you took the near end of the bench Mando directed you to. Didn’t take much to know not to keep eye contact too long with any of these unsavory characters around you, so you kept to yourself. Once Mando slid in from the opposite side, you asked him,

"Quite the crowd huh?--oof–"-

Rather than allow the space for the little guy in between you, Mando slid in right beside you: an arm behind you and a small thud of his heavy fist on the table. The tracer clacked as it landed in front of him.

Someone's got him acting testy. You eyed your hunter as he brooded; a small twinkle flitted behind your eyes,

“See someone you know?" you asked.

"No." the Mandalorian spat out, curtly.

"Then what's wrong?"

His helmet turned to you, then ahead again.

"I didn't like how they were looking at you."

You bristled, really checking the room for the first time, managing the kid in your lap with a little glance. From the moment you took stock of the table nearest you, their quick darts in your direction told you just how rusty you were. They’re all locked onto you.

The whole point of your taking the kiddo for Mando was to seem less out of place, not a target.

“You don’t– think folks all the way out here are gonna go after him?” Nervousness flared in your voice, though for the sake of appearances, you didn't dare let it show on your face, “Who even reads the Imp notices anymore? This whole town’s a glorified farming dustball-”

Mando corrected you, “Not him.”

He murmured that into your shoulder like it was obvious.

A stunted breath tripped up your budding confusion.

"Well, if it's not the sight of a baby in a bar making them creep, what then?”

“You.”

Not for the first time, you checked the look of yourself. It’s what you faced from the reflection of the beskar cheek looking back at you when you addressed him– never his face, but yours. Then, to the room. Sure, you weren’t so rough-and-tough looking from the outside, but–

"..Hold on." Flatly, you turned towards him; a quarter turn from your cozy spot. "You're saying I'm the distraction here."

All you got in response was a little quirk of the helmet.

You bristled, “I’m not the only-”

“I know you’re not,” he hushed you again, still scanning his sights across the venue like a sentry camera, “but these bantha-breaths are all the same when it comes to- distractions.”

Your eyes fluttered in a muted roll. “And you think that’s new?”

“New to me.”

“Cmon. All this? You’ve gotten plenty of looks before.”

“Not the way they were watching you. The kid had nothing to do with it.”

You never take having such protective company for granted, but Mando's insinuation that you're bringing unwanted attention was surprising– and irritating.

“Please. You flatter me, I hardly think I’m the biggest draw in the room, hon.” you settled in. Harmless, but indignant, “You want me to really up the appeal? Then we should have planned ahead, and set up a rotation for me in the dance schedule.”

His gloves crackled at the creases– their grip unmistakable, “That’s an invitation for trouble.”

“No, messing with you is an invitation for trouble. I’m not trouble.”

“May not mean to, but you might cause us some.”

In truth, this observation wasn't unfounded; of the scarred, sweaty hunters and mechanics that filled this bar, you'd likely look out of place somewhere half this packed… and there’s no mistaking with the way you’re dressed that you are no fair-eyed performer like the real beauties in here. Sure your face under the visor shield might tell a different story when you appear more intimidating on the road, but here on this world, you passed over the need for even a

This was your job, and not your first time in this line of work. You wore the kit, you didn't strut or flaunt your stuff around, and you certainly never drank on the job either. Just looked and played the part you needed to. If he didn’t want you to come meet the contact, then why ask you to join him? The whole point of this plan was to be seen very publicly as a united front, so you wouldn't be suspected of funny business; even if that was going to be your specialty after you start phase two: divide and conquer, as you always do.

Plans change, sure– but only when things turn sideways… not when he’s got some alpha male jealous streak going on behind that bucket of his. That hand grab earlier proved it.

Mando just took centering deep breaths while you ran out of accommodating alternatives.

“Well, then, what do you want me to do?” the short candor that came out of your mouth wasn’t in your nature– but this was getting annoying, how short he’s acting. He’s not normally this snippy with you… “What, ‘wait by the tram’ till you come out, so I don't tinge that reputation of yours?”

The helm regarded you, then shook off– like he was redacting on the spot.

“I- didn't mean-”

And the backpedaling,

“-Fine.”

No use fighting for a place you shouldn't be in the first place, because it would only make his job more difficult. Feelings or not, you weren’t out to throw a wrench in the operation just for the sake of your involvement.

And even if your reason hadn’t won out, you sure weren't up for a soapbox moment either– despite its occupancy in your chest.

You unstrapped the kid from yourself and placed him in your spot,

“See ya in a bit, bud,” you laced a kindness into your voice- a sweetness just for him, “Maybe your dad will get his job done better without 'arm candy' throwing off his mojo."

Beelining it to the backdoor, you carried on steaming. You didn't bother looking back, which also meant you missed the Mandalorian’s lock on you the whole way across the rounded bar. Not that you had any doubts that he would be watching you; in fact, you counted on it. But you knew with even more certainty that he wouldn’t stop you. Not when there’s a job to do. You’re just going to set out on yours early.

Though you may not always see alike, there’s yet to be a final say that makes you not trust him so far. You’ll change the plan, call ‘plot twist’ and go right along with him.

Maybe one of these days he’ll begin to trust you at your word… do Mandalorians even do that with folks who aren’t their kind?

It's a job. A job you can do damn well. So, back to old habits it is. Keep the bike warm and ready for go-time.

In your retreat, you caught a comm from him. Just a blip and slight vibration that caught your attention on your wrist:

/be careful/

– and just like that, all the temper heating your neck and chest: shocked by a bucket of cold, graciously vigilant water.

Your Mandalorian couldn't resist.. and you really couldn't fault him for it.

You stopped at the door, slowing as the two words staring back at you made you come to a standstill. Checking back and finding that the man's brilliantly shiny helmet had indeed stayed tracked on you the whole time sent that pang in you alive and burning. A little breath huffed from your nose, but you didn't scowl at him.

It's just in his nature, he can't turn that off.

You looked back and nodded.

'I will'.

“Fancy seeing a livin' breathin' angel who knows her way around a rig~”

Outside, the smarmy man you'd missed noticing before made good on his interest in you and racked up his courage to act on it. He swaggered over to you by the open air skybike model you’d secured.

As aloof as he could seem, with that peacocking chest on full display…. He’d even set one of his holsters off to the side, a clear invitation for you to notice another package. Ugh.

“Vision a’ beauty in a dark, little corner like this, too…" he layered on the sugar,"Must be my lucky day, I tell ya!”

You weren’t having this pathetic attempt.

“Does this actually work on women…” You leveled your face.

Felt good, giving him a stare down before going back to your solid watch of the back door.

“C’mon now, pretty thing,” more swaggered steps towards you had your insides cringing– and had you moving ‘round the speeder to the mount side, “Couldn’t keep my eyes off’a ya in there– yer a stunner!”

And you don’t take a hint. “Not interested– I’m working.” Kept talking, too, like your words had just been a sneeze.

“Thought you was that bounty hunter’s girl, but ah-” he comically searched the perimeter of the garage, “--don't see ‘im nowhere.”

You scrolled through your wristcom, “If you did, I’d be sweating if I were you.”

“Got the hots for him, do ya? ‘R are you just friendly is all?”

It took every ounce within you not to react. Don’t give him fodder, just watch the door and keep a level head. Like he does.

You cursed yourself. Mando really did have the eyes of a hawk-bat inside. Meanwhile, you were getting rusty– or just far too comfortable.

Still, this moron was clearly set on poking the still-tender temper inside of you.

“Thinkin,” he made every move to sidle up to you, “I don’t have yer name, sweet’art- whaddthey call ya?”

“Look– I’m not here for my health. Buzz off.” You won’t be getting it.

And another step, to come lean on the front dash- “Right then– I get to guess. Sweetie, it is~”

Some sanity passed through your head, and you figured… the more you talk to this joker, the more he’ll try his luck. A hand on the palmbar, you revved the bike to full power; making your ‘Leech’ jump back, immediately floundering–

“Hey, hey, hey!!” and his sights roved over you, and in an instant, you equally revved his engines, “Ah, bit of fire in ya, huh? Like that in a bitch… Sure you know how to ride this beauty? or I can show you the ropes~”

You finally let your disgust show.

-and thank the Maker for the comm beep to save you. Your partner’s speech-to-text came through on your wrist tab,

//Making an exit//

//Which bay did you clear//

All too grateful, you typed back the number plastered on the overhead air systems installed above you.

It took a bite of your tongue to keep from writing back a fuller response:

/Listen to the sound of this skug-bag’s jaw hitting the floor- that’s where I’ll be/

but instead you mounted after a quick couple letter keys.

“Well, it’s been a not-so-lovely chat here,” you upturned your own helmet with a flourish, “But after the loss of these braincells I can never get back, I gotta run and make my pickup now.”

The man made a last attempt to lean in over your from the front handlebars,

“Nah, c’mon, gorgeous, I’ll make it worth your time real good. What’s the hurry? Sure there’s no harm in a bit a’ hooky?”

You laughed high in the back of your throat, giving gushy-sweetness back, with a side of ice–

“Not on your life, sleemo. Door to Hell is open, I hear.”

Then with the pop of your helmet on, you floored a fast reverse and drove off to leave him in the dust.

It almost occurred to you when you paused again to see what became of him, but you were shocked that he was in fact coming after you– with a gang of about four other men. Not that you could make out clearly what they were joshing about in the metallic hangar, but the slang they used about what features were hidden by your clothes was obvious…

The door you parked by remained silent when you rolled up; meaning you’d probably met Mando too soon. He likely wasn’t ‘a few moments away’ after all. And the gang who’s laughing so boisterous was nearing the exit ramp that would take them straight to you.

You tapped the wrist comm again, speaking directly.

“Got company out here too, Mando,” you firmed up, “Bit of nasty company if that makes a difference!”

In a blink’s time, the audio came back, blaster fire sparkling through the speaker,

“Same shits from the bar?”

You chortled, then answered clearly,

“Yup. Bold guys, up close.”

“I’ve got their buddies inside too.”

“Well kriffin’– do you need backup in there then?” Your slow reverse and frantic scooting along the floor looking for someplace inconspicuous -and quick- to hide your ride flew through your mind as you came up with plan ‘B’. “I’ll stash this, and lay lower inside.”

“No time– Take a lap– don’t stay where you are–” the Mandalorian blurted out.

You heard the rev of the gang’s engines as they idled around the exit ramp, “Or could you just put a rush on it? I’m already right here–”

“I’ll find you,” he stressed. “DO NOT engage them–”

But before you could snap back with–

“Guess you’re in need of a new boyfriend after all, Sweetie Pie!”

The crass voices appeared from above. While you’d slowed and chatted, they’d hopped the roof and made to bear down on you. The newcomers to the group, a couple Trandoshans and another Kel Door with a new retrofitted mask roved over you like you were a batch of Quarren hot-pot.

Oh, that blaster at your side was tempting… but you revved into top gear, and changed the route again.

Keep away it is. Just ‘till the boys show up.

In the end, you lose your seedy admirers after your third pass around. Touch and go driving proved in your favor, messing with their sloppy sense of acceleration with each lap around the back parking area. That was perhaps your saving grace– letting their inebriated states affect their pursuit instead of performing on the offensive– but it was short lived.

Your first chatty Leech gets a corner up on you and forces your trek on the inner wall, where the backdoors line the complex. At this stretch of buildings, there weren’t any more service ladders like where Mando was going to meet you.

Coincidentally, there were garbage units separating where that former landing zone was to where you are now. So when you skidded to a perfect stop, Leech rammed into the back and managed to jam his front end into the back of your second-seat attachment. Lovely. A flare of alarm chilled your back– feeling him far too close for comfort.

The blaster you carry is holsted between you- he’d see if you turned to grab it. You’ll have to slip down for your vibroblade if he tries to grab you.

And of course now is when he comes out of the far backdoor–

The Mandalorian burst from the firefight in the back door and -0ki whipped around the railing looking for you. The munchkin spots you first, and with your visor’s magnification, you see his smile- and subsequent squeal- which drags the Mandalorian’s attention to you.

From clear across the divide, his blaster raised and you leveled down with your handlebars: like he showed you.

“Hey now, friend! I was just returnin’ yer lovely thing to you!” the man’s voice flipped up several octaves in defense.

The maglock between your bikes activated, and he dragged you in reverse ever so slowly,

“Been runnin’ me and my crew like wild around the place. Been a fun chase- yeh must have yer hands full of this girl-”

Mando shot the man’s acceleration chamber till it hissed– stopping him in his tracks.

“You stay.”

You bashed the man’s face with a harsh elbow while his sights are down.

“YOU CRA-”, he recoiled with a bear swipe while you dismounted to try and fling him off– “--AH!”

But another shot grazed the man’s foot, making him slump onto his speeder.

He’s buying you time.

Running through your mental catalog, you risked the man’s pain-induced split focus to detach your bikes from his panel’s shortcuts– but didn’t miss the Mandalorian’s next shout,

“Touch her and you lose your head next.”

You smirked under your visor. He’s gonna take him out anyway, you just know it. Swinging your ride back around to where you can remount never felt so good.

Now, you really did try to avoid close calls like this as much as you can manage. But if nothing else, this run-in proved you could always learn a bit more, should spare reading up on grav separation, and maybe outrig yours a bit better when you get the chance…

A spared nod to the Mandalorian while you backed up– and his nod back– gave you the confirmation from the high ground that you needed.

From your angle down low, your helm didn’t have the scope for it. But Mando’s does; you’re cleared to run the gap.

Against the exasperated Leech’s expectations, you jumped it. Sure enough, when you landed, no more jeers followed. Only yells of surprise from the guy’s crew, who were screaming around his form laid flat on the ground, some to call for a extinguisher droid for the speeder fire, another calling out for a medic…

Under the railing where Mando stands, blaster shots chink off his backplate again, signaling him to get out of there. A perfect land later, Mando mounted behind you and wedged his foundling between the both of you.

“I take it you got it?” you asked, your modulated voice still perking up the Child’s ears.

He answered with arm wrapped tight your waist, “Got it. Drive.”

With the Mandalorian and the kid’s padded sling strapped tight to him, the three of you dipped off the ledge of the garage, leaving the bad vibes- and big paycheck -secured.

–However, there's a gap in the antigrav you don’t account for. Turning sharp back to the main road, you slip off a level, and wipe out. Happens so fast, you don’t even breathe– just feel a punch to the gut where the front end of the bike lurches back against you when you curl forward around it as it spins against the momentum.

The acceleration drones when it falls off kilter, the compressors go creepily silent, the metal plates grind against your eardrums, scrapes and crashes, and so do you.

The Child’s fine; if just a little dizzy when Mando curls away from his landed position behind you. Made of straight beskar steel everywhere it counts, he’s perfectly fine too.

You? Not so lucky… You can count on one hand the amount of times over the age of fifteen where you’ve had a messy landing– and this makes the top ten.

Crashing feking hurts. But you can still feel your legs; that’s good.

You rolled onto your back at Mando’s yell for you. He’s calling for you by name– louder and longer each time it leaves his vocoder– before you can reorganize your rattled brains enough to make any noise. A test of tilting your head proved you had range of motion. An adrenaline-high hand simply gave a thumbs up to him, even though your cheek burned.

White hot sting radiated across your face even when you chucked your helmet off with gasps of breath, as fiery steam and dribbles of blood were dangerously seeping close to your eyeline. From your good eye squinting to the side, you caught the remnants of your smoking, stolen ride spun out amongst some employee’s stash of speeders. So much for returning that poor two-and-a-half speeder back in one piece…

The Mandalorian led you out of the hangar with a steady hand on your back- for support, this time.

Even through the leather, you felt the pressure he gave as a buffer between you and any lingering watchers. Out in the bustle of a crowd should have provided a comforting white noise to be moving along in, fading into their routine existence through the foot traffic. But not this time; not with your ear still ringing and ears popping every time you swallow. Instead you were still shaking off the chills that creep sent when he was starting to block you in.

That hand on your back slid onto your waist, tucking you closer to him as you walked and merged with the crowd. Then, while your attentions moved to the booths, he slowed a bit and moved up to your arm.

"Are you alright?"

You lifted up, that soft tone a sharp contrast to what you’d just witnessed: as he made his threats and his kills like the hunter he was. It hadn't bothered you, in fact the protective nature of him made you feel slightly good.

You smiled and fell into his side. You didn't realized how tightly you'd crossed your arms over your fractured helmet. His touch alone- brief as it was- encouraged you to release the tension.

"Yeah... Thanks for that." You sunk a bit. With every breath, the adrenaline ebbed more and more from you, and your cheek stung.

You both could bicker about how you had it covered another time. When there was some distance between this incident, maybe, but thanks was due here. There was no game of ‘I told you so’ between you; it was unspoken- but the care won out over any personal beef.

Your ego is plenty bruised over having a wipeout in front of him. And yet, even as he'd brought you to your helmet, the first comment he made wasn't about how reckless you'd rounded that corner, or how you got yourself into a chase scene picking a petty fight…

Mando was by your side the instant your hand fell limp after your cheery hand signal, and said something about how this helmet saved your life. In the moment, you were just sad its visor shattered.

"Spent a lot of credits on the tint job…" you groaned.

"You're bleeding. From the head."

"Fine, fine," you waved him off, "I'll spring for substance and not style next time."

"Thank Ashla her humor's intact," Mando bemoaned to the Child. "C'mon, let's get you up and out of here."

"Ow, shit– that's gonna bruise… all down here, too.."

"I've got you."

He looked ahead and motioned with a little nod to the corner of the side street. Once under a pavilion cover he loosened his hold on completely in favor of facing you.

"I'm.. I'm sorry that happened."

"Yeah," you sighed back, "Wasn't the finest show of my skills. Even stellar have bad days too, see?"

"N-. Not that," he shook his head a little, "When I found you, out back."

You stood confused. "What, that a creep wanted to get in my pants? It's not the first time, and probably not the last."

What started as a quip in your voice turned more genuine as you admitted the truth,

"You uh… had that part right at the bar. How they're all the same, y'know."

He bristled, the turn of his helmet evident.

"That's happened to you before?"

You shrugged it off, a little surprised that he hadn't been privvy to that kind of scene.

"Just read the stats. It happens more often than folks care to admit, honey,” that sick feeling returned, the one that made even your toes lurch.The sourness of your memories made your broken helmet decidedly more interesting to look at, “Dregs say whatever they want in these parts, really anywhere from Mid-Rim out. Don't like being told 'no' for the most part either… It just depends on how far they'll go to try and ‘convince you’."

He really must be all business in establishments like that to never see those locales from another's perspective… But you grin back up at him while he stared speechless.

"...I haven't ever had someone come to my rescue before.." you admitted. "That was– welcome. Appreciated."

As expressionless as the helmet made him, the slight tip of the head spoke wonders for you. Mando's hand rose to catch your top wrist and rubbed his thumb against it– solidifying those feelings he didn't dare speak in public. Without any facial features to go on, you relied on these touches and read into every little thing: chipping up your chin is an encouragement, a pat on the shoulder is a quick ‘atta girl’ or ‘stay put’ depending on the situation. And this little hold on your wrist spoke equal wonders, a hidden language of care:

I’d do it again in a heartbeat, cyar’ika. Simply say the word, and it’s done.

Your pause was a quick one, and with no more words shared, he simply took claim of your hand, adjusted your fingers to work together, and led you back to the shipyard.

The Child would peek his head out now that the action was over. He’d crane and lean up at you both as much as his sling could afford him– though he was most interested in what sight was in front of him: your hands now fitting together like they belonged.

His buir was currently holding your hand, like he’s reached out to hold his own three fingered claw when they first met. He hoped this meant you'd stay, too. With his green-skinned hand, he could almost reach yours and add it to the pile.

......................................................................................................

The Mandalorian was quiet that night. The quiet itself was not unusual, no not that– setting a course and spending his time in the cockpit making the adjustments he wanted was a completely normal task for him. He always knew where to go, which route to plug into the navicomputer to coast comfortably in this hyperspace lane for the next few hours so he didn’t have to stay up there and babysit it. You left him to it; this brand of silence was nothing really out of the ordinary for him.

You thanked his strictly-taught discipline tonight. While he stayed busy, you were able to clean yourself up without an audience.

After an indulgent sonic shower by his insistence, you fiddled around in the small kitchenette. The domesticity, the residential feel you’d fostered on the ship piece by piece was a sharp contrast to how the bar made you feel. The security of this place; you fall back into the feeling of ‘home’ here everytime you come up the ramp. So far tonight, that’s meant heating up a few bean rolls, monitoring the data cells you’d comped from your intel, and watching the kiddo roll around that little knob he was always sneaking off with. The minute after you’d realize the twist top of the gearshift throttle in the cockpit was missing, you’d smile. What thievery, at such a young age… at least your pilot didn’t have need of it yet.

You shook your head and laughed when the Mandalorian sighed behind you– clearly finding it, too.

"What am I gonna do with you, pal..." He wrestled with himself more than anything- begging the odd baby for reason, and picked him off the floor.

After setting him on the crate, the Mandalorian came up to the side of the sink. You didn't move much from what you were doing, but looked up when he just stood there quietly for too long.

"--What's up?"

“Really need to clean that.”

At the nod, you knew what he meant– the split brow and cheekbone.

Your instincts flared- hedge away.

You fanned your face, “I was just getting him settled first. It’s clean, I was just letting it cool down a minute.”

Your name left his lips. Firm as steady morning rain, and in a similar hush. You didn't need to see what color they were to know they were set on you and only you.

“Look, it’s only this much, see?--AH! Oof, nevermind..”

At your cheek’s lift, the fire came back. The move brought a tear to sting your eye.

In a second, the Mandalorian came to your aid, a bracing hand on your waist as his hand cupped your chin to see the damage himself. He asked you to take another step towards the light, so you did. It seemed like he was tilting about a bit, even as he tested the touch around the roadburn. You winced at it each time- from both the poking and the bulb of the overhead glaring into your eyes.

“It’s pretty bad, huh.” you mumbled out.

Guilt came through the sigh as a little exhale. You barely caught it, but it struck you in the stomach. The night, its quiet, and the privacy of hyperspace allowed you to bring your favorite secret to your lips–

“How bad is it –Din?”

“I can’t see it too well.” Mando -by his true name- told you, a skosh gentler. “My scanner doesn’t always allow me to see the debris from the clotting clearly. Hard to tell,” he weakly let go of your chin.

“Damn,” you sniffed and looked about for the tabletop lantern back by the kiddo, “Do I need to get the handheld?”

Then, with a little look back to the hull where he sat occupying himself sleepily by the towel pile, your Mandalorian took maybe his largest risk ever:

“-I need you to close your eyes for me.”

“Huh?”

“I need to see it better. Need– you to close your eyes for me to do that.”

Realization punched you again. Made your ears prick– and gooseflesh chill you.

You can't let him do this... You know he would.

“We can get a medscanner, Din. It's not too late to stop somew-.”

“No,” he caught you again, “I can do it; need to do it. I just– I need to trust that you’re hearing me.”

It's less of an order and more of a curated ask, one that begged for assurance. This man would always do his best to help you– but you never imagined he'd go this far… what he's willing to do for you.

It's the most vulnerable request he'd ever made of you; a Mandalorian's trustfall.

Now? You took back every doubt you had in the bar about him. You looked him straight in the visor –while you still could.

“...I hear you, hon.”

It nodded back to you; just one, solemn motion.

“Okay. Come sit here.”

You obeyed and locked onto the sight of the child while the Mandalorian fell to a knee in front of you, then propped himself up on both to match. With prepped gauze and tools to extract the pebbley shards, you winced at the canister of bacta being shaken up in his palm. A gloved palm came to caress your thigh. It’s meant to soothe.

“It’s ok. Gonna get you taken care of.”

“Yeah,” you feigned a brave face.

But every nerve ending fluttered at its tips when you felt it: his now bare hand brushing your good cheek,

“Do not open them, please.” you heard him whisper in the helmet.

The already low-lit vision of the cabin fell dark at your will. And you nodded– any reaction of his, unseen.

With the latch release and depressurization, you knew the helmet was off. And without meaning to, your ears prickled at every breath, every swallow, every ounce of sound that man was making – now naked to the hallway of this ship.

“Okay,” a gentle baritone spoke in the air between you. It’s new, like a stranger. “Hm– looks like we’re out of the stim solution, I don’t have any numbing cartridges. But I have the wipe kind. Gonna do that first.”

You hummed your agreement, then immediately whimpered at the first dab.

The Mandalorian froze and detached.

“It’s just a wipe…”

“Tell my face that.” You cringed. “Sorry, juss' stings.”

“I know,” he soothed, “T’sgonna be alright. I’ll make it as quick as I can. There. Gonna get these pieces out now.”

He did work pretty quickly now that he’s out from the helmet. You barely felt the edge of his tweezers as they scooped the wedges of asphalt from that high point of your cheek where the visor of your headgear had shattered. Before you could hedge away from one particularly deep poke, you heard him speak again,

"I've been thinking about what you said earlier,” Mando peeped up from his quiet, “About... men who've said those things to you before."

You softened. Was he still thinking about it? That was hours ago.

"And.. I know I've said things like that. I just wanted you to know, I can't stomach the thought of you feeling that way. And I apologize if I have ever done so, even if you'd never said a word about it. If you want me to stop, I will."

Kriff, this man. You’d sooner lay across an electrode-fencing rig than ever make him stop. You sighed, and not simply from relief as you heard him switch tools.

He’s a man of few words, but not meaningless ones. The first compliment he ever paid you was about your fire- your heart, your will, and how strong you were and how you believed. Later when you had to doll up for that ridiculous undercover function, he finally spoke his mind in the moment and said you looked ‘stunning’. He calls you 'pretty thing' often; mostly when he's giving you a hard time. Truthfully he'd called you all sorts of things, both in Basic and not– which likely gave him this pang of guilt all the more.

But those endearments were just that: things that gave you joy, a peace and comfort with him. A sweet word here or there? It's born out of familiarity- the ease of tongue that comes with living in close quarters. The draw between you two is perfectly synchronous– it is an unexpected bond through bizarre shared experiences in an infinite galaxy that inevitably brought two rough-and-ready folks together and practically conjoined at the hip. To

Your Mandalorian is not a man without faults, but he'd never once made you feel filthy.

"Oh stars above, you sweet man.." you chuckled a little, wrenching your palms from your shirt hem and blindly batted up in the air to find his arm. "You've never made me feel like that. It's different when it comes from you. You know that, right?"

He huffed out of his nose. Relieved, if his trigger fingers were any indication as they tilted your cheek again,

"I didn't want to assume. You're always so collected. Talented, confident.. But you're– painfully polite."

You giggled at that. All of his touches that root you to the spot when you least expect them are anything but unwanted. Of course you were polite when he jumps the gun on grabbing you while out in traffic, or whipping a hand in front of you at a hard stop– but you've never once taken offense to that.

With a tentative reach, his fingers brushed the line of fine little curls by your ear, relishing in your smile at the touch.

"I don't just want you in safe places. I can’t always promise our adventures will grant us ideal jobs," In the dark, you envisioned his solid, pitch black visor giving a barely there shake… "But I want you to feel safe when you're with me."

You turned your head and kissed the palm of it.

"I do feel safe with you. You'd be the first to know if I wasn’t–NNGH!"

"Be still."

"Shit… m'working on it… this whole thing's new to me, y'know?" Your mouth wandered like your frantic mind, blitzed with stinging pain. "My visor's never shattered like that before," You clenched your fists against the picks made at your browline, "I just fill in the scuffs with some epoxy usually, but it's never broken like that. Frikkin’ hurt."

Mando hummed in sympathy and merely added, "Gotta fit you with some beskar one of these days."

"Oh, sure, for half my year's portion of – nehNGH!"

“Shh, I know. Last bit’s over. Just gonna clean it up before the spray.”

With a water’s dip and wrench out, Mando made a little cleansing exhale before dabbing over the whole area. Didn’t hurt as much of your face other than the center of the wound because of the sedative, but it certainly made your eyes squeeze shut. No worries of opening your eyes for a peek when it stung so badly.

Your gentle angel in beskar whispered a quiet ‘m’sorry’ for the repeated flare of pain. His nervousness was palpable, regardless of how confident he was at this job. A jostle of your leg at calf-height told you he was checking around for dry gauze.

“Almost done,” he cooed, “You want a break?”

You hummed and gave your pitiful nod to agree. The barest turn of your head caused little pops in it from craning so much. The pressure would take a while to dissipate and you know that when you open your eyes, they’ll be bloodshot. But the pain would be over soon.

Pleased enough to give you a minute, Mando released your chin in favor of brushing another bit of hair back. Due to taking your own helmet on and off so much, the wisps of curls were bouncier than normal like this, with just enough length to give you some fun bangs. You smirked with a tight-lipped smile, as you did not want to bother and pull your cheeks too much.

It’s kinda beautiful, this. Having this closeness, sharing in a horrible task but in the best of conditions imaginable– being cared for by the one you adored most. Who wouldn’t crave that when it’s what the heart screams for?

And with this new secret shared between you, this loophole in Din Djarin’s creed… this isn’t a moment you took lightly at all.

With a little shaky exhale of your own, you searched for his hand again in your bubble of darkness. Now, it met you fully–and linked your fingers together.

And then, what shocked you the most: steady fingers supported your jaw again, and a slight breeze to cool down your enflamed cheek rushed across your face.

Din is here. Kneeling before you and blowing on it– just for your comfort.

You welcomed the cooling flow; your brows showed it. Every ounce of tension left you while dragging heartache into its warm spot. Emotion flooded every corner of the body. It nearly hurt: how it compressed your chest into submission and brought loving tears behind your eyelids.

You didn’t deserve him.

“We’re almost there, sweetheart. Finish line,” he squeezed your hand before lifting it to his lips. He spoke gently to the fingers, "Keep those eyes closed for me."

"Promise." You squeezed them again, bracing yourself for the final burn.

And there it was– freezing and sealing all at once. A white, blinding sensation like what you’d feel from a lightsource turning on overhead, but all over your skin. Each pore was touched by the bacta’s strange magic without warning- and perhaps it was better that way to get it over with. Your breathing raced in that short time until the spray set, but you made sure to mute any noise with angry focus. Fighting the aftertaste, only a small moan eeked from you while the medicine reacted after your nurse had done his job covering the area. Darling thing, he even shielded the mist from getting directly into your eyes.

Mando's hands left you only to set its things down. This, only in favor, of cupping your face evenly to hold you still when they returned. They warmed what once felt so cold. His forehead met yours in a tender touch as your tears spilled over from the edge of your eyes. Not to worry, for his thumb wiped them up straight away.

Hair caught in every which way brushed along your slightly damp brow- his. Matched yours, in a way.

"All done.” his words danced just over your nose, “You can smack me away now, if you want."

You gave a wet little laugh as you settled into him. Slapping him is unthinkable to you. “Never.”

No, this was a perfect feeling that you’d never wish an end to. His caresses surpassed that of strict medicinal care and turned intimate, rendering your insides limp and on their way to healing already..

The urge to finally cry hit when you parted… when you felt his lips meet your unharmed cheek in a plush, hot kiss.

You whispered in reverence: Din. Desperation for ‘more, please Starborn, more’, an equal measure of shock had you squeezing his wrist, pinning him to you,

"Should– heh- sh-should you be doing that?"

He kissed you again. Again. Like he’s addicted to the touch, like it’s his favorite vice to pass the time; soft, loose, sighing up to your temple. You know he must be taking in this sight of you now, before the analytics of heat sensors block him from vivid color and dynamic shadows once the helmet returns.

"Probably not,” he admitted without true remorse– his voice turned soft and delicious, "But I've always wanted to. And right now, I can–" he pulled away at your forehead, "--Should I stop?"

"Oh, please don't stop–"

Your urgency, his delight. Mando chuckled, and kissed your forehead next: with such love from him, you could never doubt it. Enjoy this, honey. Take it all in.

The moment could have lasted forever. You'd about blindfold yourself for the rest of your life, for all you cared. If he just kept kissing you; lower, lower, lower–

–your lips fit against his, and you burst like a case of firewhiskey spirits poured on a flame. It engulfed you both, and he latched on– to burn right there with you.

Your hands flew to keep him close, fingers finding a hold through the whisps of his hair he kept short that curled in choppy, sweat-licked parts. He sighed so heavenly when you touched him skin to skin. And easy to please, it seems, since he matched you move for move– threading through your feather-soft waves like it was second nature for him to hold you so close.

Oxygen and a too-full heart demanded you part for a breath, your pulse going rapid fire in your throat.

“Thank you.”

“Thank me? Thank– I should be thanking you,” For caring, for the space to exist at his side, to have his loyalty in your back pocket and in your very soul, “For… everything today.”

“Nothing special about that. You thanked me already.” he said so with such frankness. “We have each other’s backs. We’re on each other’s sides. No, this–”

His shield dropped from your browline, replaced by his whisper over the lid of your eye–

“–this means everything, mesh’la.”

The honesty of this man wrecked you.

You found yourself pressing your forehead into the space by his neck to hide. Your Mando petted through your hair like a lovestruck man- desperate and wanting and content with every intention to keep you there for the rest of Time. By how this killer matched your breathy giggles, you had a clue that he wouldn't mind that idea.

"So," you broke the quiet with a small question, "is that what I can expect every time I get a punch to the face?"

Din huffed.

"You start poking around for trouble, we're going to have an entirely different problem on our hands,” he mumbled back hoarsely, “Don't you dare get any ideas."

“Even if they get me kisses?”

“Nothing’s worth you getting hurt, cyar’ika,” those indulgent lips pressed to your hairline before he reached down- to get his helmet.

At the lean, you panicked a second, and flung back again with a rush for him to wait.

At your word, he stilled for you to speak your peace. Happy lines greeted your fingertips as you caught the edge of his smile with a blind-man’s reach.

You fought through your elated headspace and begged, "One more?"

Praying to every heaven out there, you were blessed when Din graced your mouth again without any teasing. Kiss after kiss, you melted into each other in this place where nothing hurt– though who did the falling first, you genuinely didn't know.

Must have been a hell of a numbing wipe.

After breathless kisses later, stolen tokens as they were, you both felt and heard the Mandalorian shudder and he moan back,

"Gotta stop.." he flipped up the helm with expert precision. It found its home again with only another blip of static when the seal reanimated. "You can open your eyes now."

"Stop…" you managed your beating heart and blinked open your gaze, straight up to the reflected 'T'-shaped gap of his visor. The pupils that looked back at you were straight dilated. You asked out of the haze of your bliss, "Why ‘stop’?"

Still ungloved and with sleeves rolled up, the Mandalorian’s head lolled in a little shake.

"If I didn't stop right then," Mando caressed your good cheek, "Don't know if I ever would…"

"Would that be the worst?" You hoped for the chance again.

Mando sweetly answered,

"No.."

It was the kind answer he knew you wanted, to wish for more kisses from you. But he wasn't completely convinced. Not with that lilt in his voice that left a question to be answered.

He slipped a hand around your waist,

"No, I think.. if I never saw your eyes again, that would be the loss I'd suffer the most.”

Lucidity came back by the moment, your sense of confusion officially returned.

“See me? But you just did, for the first time, right?”

“Couldn’t see those pretty eyes though.”

“Well, tough.” you sassed, “Now you know how I feel.”

You tried to make it sound bossy, but the dig left your mouth too sleepily for him to take it. Behind the metal, his rough rush of static resounded his chuckle.

To further prove the point, you mimic the motion you do for your eye contact removal with a bright, goofy smile,

"It's just retinas, you know,” you shrugged, “Mine don't even work."

"Your loss is my gain, all the same." Mando fell back to only one knee again, to get comfortable at your level. "I'm almost glad we didn’t pass a med droid in town, or else…” he curled an arm around you again, “--this might not have happened any other way. I count your poor excuse for headgear as my blessing this time."

You glanced at what was left of your helmet, but fell into good humor with his warmth bringing you close again.

“You’ll be all too glad to see me walking around a beskar cyclehelm, won’t you? Gonna take a while to find that much to make one, if you’re serious.”

“Oh, I’m serious,” the helmet nodded, chipping your chin for a moment, “But we’ll manage until we source it. Always do.”

You’re still reeling over this; over what this means, him offering you the most prized form of protection. To give you comfort by shedding down to his most vulnerable state. The complete faith he has in you by doing so... It gave your nervous anxieties ballasts on all sides.

You’d keep your wits about you better next go round, so this doesn’t happen again… but you knew the word ‘partnership’ had a different meaning between you, from this night onward.

Din continued past your mind’s lovely spiral,

“You won’t need to worry about finding a better replacement before we head to Bespin with this package; we'll just let you heal. No sense pushing it.”

"Probably for the best, yeah," you nuzzled back, "I clearly have issues keeping a helmet on my head as it is."

The helmet giving you a kiss of its own shook side to side. That gesture all but begged ‘what am I going to do with you’.

"So we stick in our lanes for now?” you whispered your hope, “...Try my luck and steal chances whenever I can?"

Instead of a quick nod, the man who’d just kissed you senseless gave you a promise again,

"We can work something out."

#the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin #the mandalorian #pedro pascal #this is self indulgent #din djarin is a sweetheart and a badass and i'll take no questions #it's a trustfall baby #close your eyes and leave it all behind #go where love is on our side #mando #mando x reader

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