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wisteria-blooms · 3 years ago

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yesterday (g.w./reader/unrequited!f.w.)

**highly recommend reading both part 1 and part 2 before this!**

wondrous time series: [part 1] [part 2] [PART 3]

Even a broken clock is right twice a day.

Summary: There you come, in the same white satin dress he once saw in a beautiful dream, some hazy August day by a pond, now marrying someone who should’ve been him.

Time is not limitless as Fred Weasley would soon come to realize: what he puts off to tomorrow, he should’ve done yesterday.

August 31st, 1998.

Tags: angst, unrequited love, one-sided pining, weddings

Warnings: swearing, emotional cheating (on Fred's part)

Words: 4.8k

A/N: I had this in my drafts since June but some motivation from a nice Anon (seriously, thank you for your comment!) encouraged me to actually finish it. This is quite a different mood/tone than the first two parts. I'm migrating back to writing more fluff and friends-to-lovers after this, but whew, I love me some Fred angst.

yesterday

Fred and George Weasley are men of dreams. When they were young, they thought often about paving their own path to success. Together, burning the midnight oil, they created wondrous inventions that went beyond Ministry curricula. It was wit beyond their years even if no one, not even their own mother, appreciated it yet. They dreamt of abandoning the regimented course of education and promised they would do it together. They were two parallel lines inked on paper, never one without the other, always alongside each other as they headed in the same direction.

But their dreams begin to diverge when they get older.

Perhaps it’s an issue of birth orders. Fred is the first of the two to see the world, and he is accustomed to the spotlight, possessing an easy and attractive swagger. There is never an issue with female interest, because as brash and boisterous as he comes off, it’s a certain air of confidence that attracts the opposite sex to him.

But therein lies the problem: Fred is fickle. Because when the heart receives excess of what it needs, it starts to get greedy. It never has to anchor itself down when it’s presented with a vast sea of possibilities. And he can wait; there’s no rush to tie himself down when there are always more doors to open, maybe the next better than the last. Nothing can subdue these hot flames of curiosity. But as Fred continued to tread in the deep waters, George anchored. The younger of the twins anchored himself to you, a person he couldn’t see more suitable for him than anyone else in the world.

As the years go on, Fred begins to dream about something that George has. Specifically, he dreams of you. Impossible dreams in which you return his affections, where your eyes soften as you glance at him and only him. Fever dreams in which you are a beautiful apparition, madly in love with him and giving him all your weekends and lazy afternoons. Sick dreams because he awakes in the dead of night covered in a sheen of sweat, because everything feels so real, but it’s not you beside him. It’s the body of his slumbering lover he has to look at with heart-lurching guilt the rest of the night because he’s been dreaming of another woman.

Perhaps the most striking dream he’s had involves a particular day, some last day of August. Bloody stifling the heat was, he recalls. He knows it’s not real but it certainly felt like so. It felt so real that he can remember the soft texture of your lips and skin under his fingers and each beauty mark on your arm as they lay exposed to the sun. He can’t recall the entirety of it, but they come to him in pieces when he’s alone at work or in bed.

Dreams are fragile and crushable things as he’s learned over the years.

In the present day, he stands on the sand by the ocean. It’s early morning that he arrives here in Tinworth, waiting to hash out details not practiced in yesterday’s dinner rehearsal. This is your choice of location for a wedding. Of course, it would be; you’ve always loved the ocean and the security Shell Cottage provided during the war. How can he forget, when all he did two years ago was tease you and George mercilessly after your trip together? He knew something changed after that fateful day, because the two of you could barely spend a second apart after, and he figured at some point in the near future, you’d be engaged. However Fred teased you, he teased George ten times worse until he was pink in the face. Was it out of his nature? No. It was out of jealousy and his family was none the wiser.

Now, the salty air envelopes him on the coast. Waves crash steadily behind him, drowning out his own heartbeat that had quickened just thinking about the worst summer of his life. Well, second to the one you’d gotten engaged.

Now on your wedding day, he feels the pain that’d been building up until now, but he has to be here. After all, he is the best man to the groom – his twin brother.

“This really is lovely,” his fiancée, Angelina, compliments as she admires the scenery before her. “Though I wouldn’t have pegged George to move out of the city.”

“He can be convinced by the right person,” Fred says, ignoring the tightness in his throat as he utters those words. He holds the door for Angelina as they enter the building.

“Speaking of,” she says, turning to him. “I’m going to see how he’s doing.”

“Make sure he’s alive for me, will you?” Fred jests as he pulls Angelina in for a peck on the forehead. She nods before disappearing to the other side of the building.

Fred turns to the other direction. He feels his chest constrict as he walks down the hall. Is it a good idea to see you now, given how vulnerable he’s feeling, when the gates keeping his emotions tied down are completely volatile given that in a few hours, you’ll be married? But he can’t resist the urge to see you one last time.

When he gets to the last door – your dressing room – he stills. Through the crack, he sees two people crowding around you. You’re seated on the chair with Molly and Ginny standing behind you as you look at yourself in the mirror. His mother is pinning back your hair and his sister is adjusting the zipper of your dress and whispering words of encouragement to you.

He knocks out of courtesy.

Molly is the first to notice Fred’s reflection in the grand mirrors.

“George, what did I tell you—” she yells and quickly turns around, furious that her son is flirting with bad omens on his wedding day. Both you and Ginny turn your heads too.

“Twenty-one years, mum. Twenty-one years and you still can’t tell us apart?” he laughs. But it hurts, because part of him thinks he should be George today.

“Oh, Fred, it’s only you,” she sighs in relief, putting the spare pin on the table to place her hand over her chest.

“It’s only me?” he asks, taking his mother’s calm as an invitation to walk into the room. “That’s offensive.”

“Well, you nearly gave me a heart attack,” she continues to chastise, picking up a comb to finish up with your hair. “You know it’s bad luck for the groom to see his bride,” she mutters, still working off the scare, “that’s why I’ve kept George all the way on the other side. Your brothers will stop him from seeing (Y/N) until she’s walking down the aisle.”

That thought seems to calm her down.

“You should go see him,” he suggests, hoping to get a moment with you. “Angie says he’s in a right state.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” you agree with a gentle smile to Molly and place a hand on her arm. “I think it’d comfort him to have you there.”

Molly’s eyes soften as she embraces you suddenly. She obviously adores you and always has, ever since George first started bringing you home when you were all young teenagers. Back then when you left in the late evening, his mother’s voice seeped through the walls, vocalizations of fondness audible to Fred. Clearly, these sentiments still hold true today. Fred bets that you’ll be her favourite daughter-in-law with no competition.

“I’m coming with you,” says Ginny as she follows her mom out the door.

“We’ll be back soon,” Molly assures. Her face tightens when she sees Fred approaching you. “Don’t you dare do anything to distress (Y/N).”

“If anything, she distresses me,” he counters with a smirk. You shake your head in protest and laugh. When his mother and sister disappear down the hall, Fred finally has your undivided attention.

“Fred,” you say, getting up from your chair and looking him up and down. He feels slightly warm under the collar at your focussed gaze. “You look dashing.”

Merlin, could his heart sink any deeper?

“You too,” his eyes trail the lace of your wedding dress from your neckline to your wrists, “you look beautiful.”

“Yeah?” you ask, seeming unsure of his compliment. “I’m alright. I don’t think I could top Fleur last year. She was gorgeous.”

“You’re more than alright,” affirms Fred. Seriously, he thinks.

“You’re the last person I’d believe,” you joke. “Fancy a drink?”

“I’d never say no.” He shoots a smile and walks over to the small bar on the side of the room.

“You know what this reminds me of?” he says, taking a tumbler off the counter.

“Nothing comes to mind,” you murmur, avoiding Fred’s gaze. “On the rocks?” You ask him. Fred nods and watches as you prepare his drink and gives you thanks when you slide it over.

“Do you remember that Hogsmeade weekend before Christmas? You got piss drunk at the Three Broomsticks,” Fred regales, swirling the drink in his hands. “And we had to lug you back to the common room.”

Pink spots your cheeks at the memory. Of course, you remember. The reason you drank as much as you did was because firewhiskey calmed your nerves and made it easier to talk to George. You had a big fat crush on him in fifth year, and would clam up when he came around.

“No, in fact, I do not recall,” you say, holding the back of your hand to Fred’s forehead. “Are you positive you weren’t dreaming it, love?”

“I remember every detail,” he says with a wink, and sips at his drink. “Especially the part where you were slobbering all over George when he carried you back,” he pitched up his voice to match yours, “’Oh, Georgie, I feel downright awful, I don’t know what I’d do without you.’”

“Merlin,” you huff, perturbed at Fred’s crystal clear memory. “If this is part of your speech tonight, you can see yourself out.”

“I could add it in,” he says with a wide grin and wiggles his eyebrows. “I gave myself space to ad-lib. That’s when I’m most brilliant, don’t you think?”

He notices the pink completely spreading on your cheeks now. “Anyway, now it’s you that needs to loosenup.”

He takes a shot glass out of the cabinet. “This is a Weasley tradition, you remember from Bill’s wedding?”

“Yes, I do,” you respond, drumming your fingers on the counter, still avoiding Fred’s gaze.

“Even Fleur took a shot, even though they don’t ‘do zeez in France’.” He wiggles his fingers around his throat and grimaces dramatically, imitating Fleur last year when she took a shot at the rehearsal, and the whiskey burning her throat.

“I’ll pass,” you say, pushing the shot glass away. “I don’t want to be slobbering over anyone when I walk down the aisle.”

“One shot won’t do you any harm,” he urges gently. “And I’ll ensure you don’t have too much, as a favour.”

“I can’t, Fred.”

“What do you mean?” he asks, remembering all the summer holidays and Christmases spent at the Burrow, you with a drink in hand, conversing with him on the patio or the fireplace. It stirs up memories of when you’d spend all night talking to him in the living room about random things – the joke shop, how you intended to help out a few times a week, the family farm, Molly’s scones and how they were the best in muggle and wizarding Britain. It was back when maybe, just maybe, he still had a chance.

“I can’t drink, does that mean anything to you?”

You bite your lip in anticipation for it to click. Fred feels his heart give a heavy kick. God, he just wants this fucking feeling to stop already. He hasn’t eaten all morning because he’s felt sick. Sick because he’s attending the wedding of the woman he loves, and because he feels like he’s being unfaithful to his fiancée. You clearly don’t mean to hurt him with the innocent look in your eyes, but he feels like he’s been punched in the gut.

“No?” You cock your head, thinking a genius like Fred would’ve connected two and two, but he continues to play the part of the fool.

“You’re going to be an uncle, Fred,” you blurt out with a smile. “Isn’t that exciting?”

“You’re serious?” he responds, hoping you don’t recognize the unfamiliarly high pitch in his voice.

“It’s much, much too early that I’ve only told George,” you admit. “I wanted to save it for after the wedding. So, goodness, don’t go off blabbering, especially not to Molly,” you warn, grasping his wrist in case he decides to bolt off.

“Alright, you have my promise—”

“And not Ginny,” you interrupt. “Or Ron, he’s dreadful at keeping secrets.”

“Okay—”

“Oh, and not Percy either. He’s become quite the awful liar since returning home,” you groan. “I reckon he’s been feeling apologetic since you know... now he can’t keep a secret anymore.”

“I wouldn’t—”

“And especially not Bill. He’ll just tell Fleur, who’ll tell everyone else,” you exclaim, looking frazzled. “I adore her, she’s been my rock the past few weeks but last Christmas at breakfast, I told her I’d like to have two or three kids, and by noon, your great-aunt Muriel was asking me about it.”

“So, no one,” he holds a finger to your lips, “got it. Now will you calm down before mum comes back? George’ll be missing his best man if she finds out I’ve been stressing you out.”

“Okay, okay,” you say, taking a swig of water to calm yourself down.

Slowly and surely, secrets like these chip at him. He and George used to share everything—the same blankets, jumpers, robes, bedrooms, detentions, scoldings— yet now he feels shut out of a world that was once his.

“Oh, here comes Molly and Ginny,” you say, craning your neck to look out the door. “How’s George?” you ask with a look of concern.

“I’ve never seen him so pale,” Ginny responds. “He looks ghastly.”

“Bill is walking him through everything,” says Molly, returning to the array of pins on the vanity. She notices the glass of whiskey in Fred’s hands and her expression sours. “Already, Fred? I won’t have you making a fool of yourself at the ceremony.”

“You’d let George drink, but not me?” he protests as he takes another large sip of the whiskey, shooting a wink at his mom. “Rather unfair.”

“It is his special day, and not yours,” Molly reprimands. “And it would help him to have all his brothers there. Bill, Charlie, Percy, and Ron are all in the room.”

“Maybe I’ll pay him a visit then,” suggests Fred.

“See you later, Fred,” you say as he envelope him in a hug. Fred’s body falls slack as he feels your arms tighten on his sides. He puts his free hand on the small of your back and rubs circles with his thumb on the cool white satin. He loves the way you feel on him, like this is how it should be.

As Fred walks down the hall, the laughter of his brothers in the other room gets louder. Bill is chatting with George on the sofa, explaining how the rest of the evening is supposed to go. Charlie, who Fred hasn’t seen in ages prior to two nights ago, and Ron are leaning up against the wall talking about Romania, and Percy is seated on the piano bench, listening in quietly.

“Having fun without me?” asks Fred as he saunters in the room.

George immediately gets up from the sofa and clasps Fred’s hand, pulling him close. He then asks, “where’ve you been, mate?”

“Keeping your soon-to-be-wife company,” he responds. “Only an hour until she’s stuck with you forever.”

George chortles, but wears a look of pride on his face. His soon-to-be-wife. His forever.

Fred looks upwards at Bill. “Mum hasn’t tried to clean you up?” His eyes flitter towards his long hair and earrings he’s surprisingly been allowed to keep on.

“Because he’s the first-born and already married, he’s exempt,” grunts Ron with a grimace, touching the gel in his slicked-back hair. Obviously, Molly had done a number on him.

“I cleaned up for my own wedding,” Bill defends with his hands up.

“Yeah, yeah, sure, didn’t look like it,” Fred teases as he sits down on the sofa in front of the piano. As he continues to drink, he finds himself in deep thought about all the little clues he’s missed over the years.

Maybe he should’ve realized that your docile manners lend themselves better to his brother. George was always the gentler of the two, always trying to reel Fred back in when he’d gone too far. Had he been so blind in his earlier days to not know that maybe his reckless streak and a penchant to pull pranks was not endearing, but instead, annoying to you?

What he took as a longing look at him at the train platform two years ago was veiled disgust, because the biggest rift between you and George was all due to Fred. He knows that now; escaping Hogwarts was his idea and George just happened to add to it. He recalls the moment the euphoria of the fireworks expired, when they were back at home, that his twin didn’t look all too chuffed. Like a drunken night-out leading to awful choices the next day, George looked bloody pitiful when he sobered up. He spoke little, but the little he did speak, Fred could piece together. There was one thing he forgot to take with him: you.

From what Fred heard, there had been an explosive fight days before he and George planned to wreck havoc on Umbridge. Though he’d not heard it firsthand, his friends, Lee and Angelina, told him they’d heard yelling when they entered the common room. You and your sweet disposition, yelling? Fred was in disbelief, but the tale was wholly believable as he watched you jump into his twin’s arms on the train platform late June, legs wrapped around George’s waist as you kissed him over and over like you’d lose him if you didn’t.

“Never again,” you’d said.

He studies his twin brother as he sits on the other side of the room and honestly, he can’t ascertain much difference in their appearances. So then why, why do his freckles, in your words, take the shape of a crossbow whereas his twin’s is likened to wings? Angel, you’d call him because George can do no wrong in your eyes. Love, always spoken with more endearment, trailing off with a higher pitch on the last syllable when you call to George as opposed to him. My love, you’d coo if you are feeling so inclined to rub salt into Fred’s wounds as he sits in the same room, fully aware he doesn’t belong to you.

“You’re unusually quiet today,” remarks Percy from behind him, his voice cutting through Bill and George’s conversation. Percy holds a glass of Merlot, quietly appraising the conversations in front of him. Fred had barely been listening to them when all he’s thinking of is how it came to be that he lost you.

“Observant git, aren’t you?” Fred bites back with a grin. Perhaps he’s a little embarrassed to be caught.

“Aren’t you supposed to be taking notes?” reminds Percy, holding the glass of wine close to his lips. “For your own wedding.”

“Trust me, Perce, I’ve got it all figured out,” responds Fred with confidence.

“Somehow, I don’t believe you,” Percy teases him back with a faint smile. “You’re not the one to plan ahead.”

“You on the other hand,” Fred suddenly shifts the topic lest his brother begins to read deeper into him, “we know you’ve got the ring. So, when’s it going to happen?”

Percy’s cheeks turn the same shade of his wine at the mention of the ring he has stowed away at home. “Maybe sometime near Christmas,” he admits abashedly.

You’re right, Fred thinks, recalling what you said about Percy. He’s turned into such an honest sap ever since he’s come back home, and Fred wonders if your astute nature lets you read into him just as easily. Just as he’s about to tease Percy about the pink on his cheeks, he’s interrupted by a knock on the door.

“It’s time, boys,” his father calls from the other side of the door. He and his brothers get up immediately. Fred places his whiskey on the table, mirroring Percy and his wine glass.

When he walks out, he sees Angelina. He twirls her around. “You look beautiful, love,” he compliments, admiring the deep purple dress accentuating the curves of her body. “Honestly, leagues above the rest.” She giggles in his arms and runs her hands over his suit and responds, “you too, lover.”

He takes her by the arm and stands in the line behind the double doors. Behind him, stands Bill and Fleur, then Ron and Hermione, then the rest of his brothers with your bridesmaids.

“You feeling alright?” Fred asks George in front of him.

He draws a deep breath. “Will be, hopefully.”

“You’ll be great,” Angelina affirms, giving his arm a squeeze.

When the doors open, he looks at the guests seated on the benches on the sand. His aunts, uncles, cousins, your family members, friends, and plus-ones are waiting anxiously for the moment. He easily spots his gaudy aunt Muriel in the crowd. George is the first to go, as rehearsed, through the doors and towards the sea, where a stage is set up near the shoreline.

When it’s their turn to walk down the aisle, Angelina smiles, looking almost giddy at the thought of their own special day. Fred looks at the ring on her left hand, and can’t say he feels the same way at the moment. He takes his spot by George to his left and Angelina walks to the right. The rest of the bridesmaids and groomsmen trickle in afterwards.

When the orchestral music quiets down, everyone’s attention shifts to the back. Their necks crane as they stare at the woman standing at the door. Fred’s hands are clasped in front of him as he raises his head. The late afternoon sun pours in from behind you. You are backlit, only visible by your veil and the contours of your wedding dress, and Fred squints to see your face.

When the rows of seated guests begin to rise, you smile timidly. He can see Angelina, Alicia and Katie to the side of him using non-verbal language to urge you to start walking. You glance shyly at the rows of people to your side. You are clearly not used to being the centre of attention, but you should be, having always been the centre of Fred’s world.

As you ascend the platform, the satin material flows behind the steps behind you. The same satin wedding gown he envisioned in his dream clings onto your body, around your waist where his hands should be, comforting you despite the heavy insinuations of war. That sweet summer day, twirling you around by the pond and leading you back to the Burrow and up to his bedroom. But as real as your body felt that day, he knows he’ll never know every inch of your skin how his brother knows it.

Fred watches as George turns around. The motion is punctuated by a faint gasp from his mother who holds her handkerchief to her face. George’s expression is as tender as Fred’s ever seen it. There are tears welling up in your eyes when you look back at George – a look of love that could make any man jealous.

Well, if Fred’s to cry now, he would at least have an excuse.

The pastor begins the reading of the vows which the both of you dutifully repeat. Your nerves are palpable. He knows how hard you’ve worked the past few weeks, going through the lines repeatedly with Fleur by your side in the living room.

“I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health—,” you stop for a second when George points to his ear, the one he lost during the war last year. “She really did,” he says. The guests laugh along with him and even the pastor can’t help but smile, but it’s your melodic laughter that Fred hears the loudest. That little joke of George’s did wonders in easing the tension in your body.

Fred wonders if he were hurt like that, would you tend to him with the same amount of care you did George?

As the vows conclude, he anticipates the line that makes his muscles twitch.

“Should anyone present know of any reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

But Fred is a man of reason. In his youth, he may have very well tried to win you back on this very day. The thrilling notion of running away with you through the beach consumes him, his topcoat discarded on the shoreline and your white dress trailing over the sand.

He knows how unfair this is to everyone congregated here today for this beautiful union. Firstly, to George, who’s rightfully earned your love. And to Angelina, his fiancée and your bridesmaid, standing opposite to him. She looks positively striking in a deep purple gown that compliments her skin tones perfectly. Isn’t she just gorgeous? His brothers have reminded him all day what a lucky man he is, but how unlucky it is for Angelina that her lover’s attention is on the bride who’s always owned a greater share of his heart? Who he may never cease to love? And it’s especially unfair to you, someone deserving of every ounce of happiness in the world, for Fred to be thinking of leaving you in ruins so he can be happy.

So, he remains silent as a draft of wind blows over the beach, ruffling the end of your gown around your ankles. It still takes every ounce of restraint not to cry out and interrupt the procession. Regret tears at every fibre of his being, everything he’s felt crashing down on him hard. All Fred can picture is himself standing where George is, pretending it’s him and him and him you’re promising forever to.

But as much as it pains him to snap out of his reveries, he knows you’ll only ever love him in a dream. There is nothing he could’ve done in his earlier years to make you love him; it is entirely fatalistic.

When your lips meet George’s, the crowd breaks out in a thunderous applause. Fred reminds himself to clap, his hands reluctantly joining the rhythm of the crowd. He breaks the shackles on his lips and forces a wide smile.

Before he can react, George is tumbling towards him. He holds the weight of his brother well, only taking a step back at the suddenness of his actions. George shakes slightly in his hold, his breath shuddering. Fred desperately wants to feel the warm feelings he envisioned himself to feel today: love, compassion, and happiness. But even with George’s arms around him on this hot summer day in Tinworth, all he feels in his bones is cold. It takes the last ounce of strength to lift his arms and embrace his brother back and try to revel in the happiness that isn’t his. How fucking pathetic is he? When George’s immediate response is to share this special moment with him, Fred is still thinking about you.

Fred’s vision blurs as he feels a tear trickle down his cheeks. The one thing he sees past George’s shoulder are the wet eyes of his mother, elated at the union between you and George and the infallible bond between her two sons. She continues to dab at her eyes with her damp handkerchief. Fred gives her a reassuring smile as he strokes George’s back.

He wonders for the briefest of moments if his mother, who often can’t discern him from George most of the time, can discern the one fatal difference between them.

Fred Weasley is a man of tomorrow, avoidant of pressing matters because he knows they can be dealt with later. After all, that’s how most of his life had gone, and it had gone by alright. On the contrary, George Weasley is a man of today, where a sense of urgency takes high priority for his beloved.

And now, only one of them wishes they had a yesterday to make amends.

#george weasley x reader #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley angst #fred weasley fanfiction #george weasley x you

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xcertaindarkthingsx · 4 years ago

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make you mine

pairing: jealous!mando x fem!reader

summary: you’ve been traveling with the Mandalorian for a while now as a healer and caretaker for the Child. one day, the Mandalorian needs your specific skills to help him catch a bounty, and needless the say he is NOT happy about it.

warnings: two idiots that don’t know they like each other, some fluff and yearning, a smidge of possessiveness/jealousy, canon-typical violence, swearing in basic and mando’a, brief mentions of unwanted touching, mentions of taking care of injuries/stitching and blood, SMUT 18+ (minors BEGONE), porn w/ plot i guess, thigh riding, finger sucking, grinding, a lil’ dirty talk (if i miss any just please let me know!)

word count: 7.6k (i’m soRRY)

a/n: WHEW OK so i originally wrote this for #dincember but because i suck at deadlines and take forever to write it just turned into something else. reader is a lil insecure but mando makes it all better (self-projection, anyone?) ummm, this is my first time writing for din AND my first time writing smut but i hope you guys like it! comments/likes/reblogs/feedback are completely welcome and much appreciated! i apologize if this is a mess kladjflkd but shoutout to @a-dorin and @princessxkenobi for being wonderful beta readers and helping me when i got stuck. i am planning on making this a two parter, so if you want to be added to my tag list let me know! if you prefer to read on ao3 you can do so here . mando’a translations at the end!

gif credit: @bestintheparsec

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Soft coos filled the air inside the Razor Crest as you desperately tried to rock the Child back to sleep. You were almost certain he was starting to get hungry, but you were out of snacks and Mando had told you not to leave the ship under any circumstances.

You had been traveling with the Mandalorian for a while now, after being picked up on Arvala-7. You were a healer—a pretty damn good one, if you had anything to say about it—and had patched him up after a bounty hunt gone wrong.

The Mandalorian thought your services would be helpful if things ever got a little dicey again, so he asked you along for the ride (the reality was you had nagged and scolded him so much about how cauterizing was not the answer for every wound, that he eventually caved just to get you to stop). There wasn’t really anything tying you to Arvala-7, so you agreed.

Plus, the Child had taken a real liking to you, and how could you say no to that precious face?

The Mandalorian was an odd man—well, no. Not odd. More like intriguing, and you were drawn to it. It had been quiet and awkward the first few months. He was a rigid man of few words, never speaking more than necessary (unless he thought he was alone with the kid; the way he spoke with him made your heart melt). But after countless late nights together of taking care of the Child and constantly tending to his injuries, you were surprised to find there was a sense of gentleness under all that beskar.

The Mandalorian had been just as surprised as you when he found himself warming up to your presence. It was all the little moments that had snuck up on him, the stolen glances and lingering touches, and now his heartbeat seemed to quicken every time you were together.

Little did he know, yours did too.

At the sound of the hatch door opening, you looked up. You watched as the Mandalorian walked up the platform, admiring his strut. How someone could look so good just walking, you had no idea, but it was maddening.

“No bounty?” you called out, turning the kid in your arms so he would be facing out towards his dad. It was unusual that Mando hadn’t found the target yet, but you were just thankful he was in one piece for now. He shook his head.

“Not yet. I ran into some… complications,” he huffed and even though his voice was laced with frustration, it put you at ease. Being on the ship alone for nearly the whole day, sometimes you just missed hearing that husky baritone filtering through his modulator.

Not to mention you thought it was sexy as hell.

You quirked an eyebrow at him. “Complications?”

He heaved a deep sigh, lifting a hand for the Child to grab, which he took happily. “Hey, kid,” he whispered, and you smiled as the Child babbled back. Mando turned his helmet towards you and continued. “Yes, but I found a contact who should be able to give more information. I came back for you and the kid first. I know you guys must be hungry.”

You nodded at the same time the little green bean gave a resounding coo, earning a soft chuckle from the both of you. “I’ll get the pram ready.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

After a quick stop in the marketplace for supplies, Mando had led you two into what seemed to be the only bar in town. It was only late afternoon, leaving it nearly empty, save for a few older patrons lazily sipping on glasses of ale. You ignored the way the Weequay behind the bar seemed to look you up and down.

Mando set you and the kid up with two bowls of soup at a table nearby while he talked business with his contact, who happened to be the bartender. Sipping your soup, you tried not to eavesdrop as the two began to fall into what you would call a heated discussion. On Mando’s end. Apparently, this was a particularly “difficult” target.

“Lucky for you, he’s got an eye for pretty girls,” the bartender drawled, jutting his chin at you. “She’ll do fine.”

Your head snapped up from your task of feeding the child, spoon mid-air. “Excuse me?”

“No. Absolutely not,” resounded Mando’s gruff voice from under the helmet.

“Listen, Mando. This guy is high-profile, practically untouchable, bodyguards with him at all times. And I’m not talkin’ your run of the mill pair of idiots that can’t shoot for a damn, I’m talkin’ highly trained mercenaries.” The Weequay sighed. “I don’t doubt your skills as a Mandalorian, but you’re just one man. You need to get him alone, and she is your only way of doing that,” he insisted.

“I said, no,” Mando gritted out. You were non-negotiable.

The bartender just shrugged. “Then consider this a loss, cause you’re not getting anywhere near him.”

Your heart hammered in your chest listening to the two of them argue. Embarrassment flooded your cheeks, remembering the way the bartender eyed you when you walked in. All you wanted to do at this point was bury yourself in the confines of your room in the Razor Crest.

Mando seemed final in his decision, and you couldn’t help but wonder if it was because he didn’t want you involved or if he thought you simply lacked the skills to do so. He could probably tell you weren’t really the seducing type, and truthfully the thought of trying to do was mortifying.

But Mando needed this, right? You thought of all the things he’s done for you, how he’s protected and provided for you. This was the least you could do for him. You could deal with one night of potential discomfort so he could get his bounty. It was a lot of credits.

“I’ll do it.”

Mando snapped his head around at you so fast, it was a miracle he hadn’t hurt himself. “For the last time, I said you are no—”

“I’m doing it,” you said a little more forcefully, cutting him off. You didn’t need to see his face to know he was staring daggers into you from underneath the helmet, but it was going to take more than a dirty look to get you to change your mind.

“Excellent!” the bartender’s cheery voice cut through the tension in the room. “Come on back, I’ve got an old dress an ex-girlfriend left behind that you could probably use.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The dress in question was a slinky black number that had you freezing your ass off in the cold of the desert night.

The dress was too… everything. Too short, too revealing, too tight; but the only other thing you had to wear were some oversized t-shirts and utility pants, which aren’t exactly sexy, so you were shit out of luck.

Mando nearly choked when you came out of your room, thankful for the helmet for hiding his widened eyes and agape mouth. You looked absolutely ravishing, the black fabric clinging to all the right places on your figure. His eyes roved over the valley of your chest, the curve of your hips, the length of your legs, and his hands balled into fists, just aching to hold you. It’s as if your skin was begging to be touched.

You cleared your throat, feeling incredibly exposed and wondering what in the blazes Mando was looking at because you were certain you looked absolutely ridiculous. The noise shook him out of whatever daze he was in and he quickly shifted his gaze.

“Not a word,” you warned, wobbling down the platform. As bad as the dress was, the heels it came with were somehow worse. “I feel ridiculous.”

“You shouldn’t,” he answered a little too quickly. “You look…” words were lost on him as he tried to find the right one. One that wouldn’t make it obvious that he was losing his kriffing mind in front of you. “Good,” he finally decided on, and mentally kicked himself for it. Good?

You gave him an exasperated look. “I know you’re just being nice.”

He opened his mouth to argue but was interrupted by an ill-timed fit of babbling from the kid. You had bent down as best you could to give him a little pat on the head and he could feel a lump forming in his throat.

Mando couldn’t express how much he didn’t want you to do this. And well, he tried. The whole way back to the ship, in fact. But for some reason you were completely hell-bent on doing this for him, and he didn’t know how to explain that you and your safety meant more to him than a few thousand credits.

The reality was, Mando wanted you. He never thought he’d be so fond for someone besides the Child, but you were the exception. And even though he wanted to make you his, he knew it would be selfish of him to pursue you, to claim you, when he couldn’t give you everything you deserved; his Creed prevented him from doing so.

But Mando was a greedy man, so he took what he could get. He drank up all the kindness you so freely gave him, like a parched soul wandering in the desert, and cherished every little moment the two of you shared. They probably meant nothing to you, but they were everything to him. And he wanted more.

Not only was he a greedy man, but a stingy one as well. The thought of anyone other than him seeing you in that dress was enough to send his thoughts into a jealous frenzy.

“You don’t have to do this,” he tried to reason again.

You placed a gentle hand on the soft spot between his pauldron and neck and offered a small smile. “Don’t worry, Mando. Everything will be fine.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Everything was, in fact, not fine.

The night had started well enough. After all of Mando’s failed attempts at dissuading you again, he had finally resigned to silently stewing in his disapproval rather than voicing it.

You entered the bar while he stayed behind and watched closely from the outside. He had given you a comms device, that, with the push of a button, would let him know you were alone with the bounty and it was time for him to step in.

“Just press it, and I will be right there,” he assured, his gloved fingers pressing the device firmly into your bare palm. Something about the protective tone of his voice stirred something in you. You nodded before looking away, trying to ignore your racing heart.

The bar was rowdy that night, patrons hooting and howling from the booze. The smell of stale spice and death sticks wafted in the air, making you wrinkle your nose. Your newfound bartender friend had waved you over, pointing out the target with a nod of his head.

Your eyes fell on a Pantoran man across the bar with a drink in his hand, dozens of black suits surrounding him. His associates—a Rodian and another Pantoran—seemed to all be talking business. The bartender wasn’t kidding about this guy’s security.

How the hell am I supposed to get this guy’s attention? You desperately racked your head for subtle ideas but came to a halt when his eyes met yours. Kriff, he had caught you staring. So much for subtle. Trying not to panic, you flashed your best coy smile before turning back towards the bar.

Somehow, that was enough to give him the courage to approach you.

Cocky bastard, you thought as he swaggered on up to you, leaning in close, leering. With his chiseled features and striking yellow markings, you would’ve called him handsome— if you didn’t already know what a sleazebag he was. An air of arrogance surrounded him, the type that made him think he could get whatever he wanted with a flash of those pearly whites. Typical douche. You wanted to smack him for being so close.

Instead, you flashed another winning smile. Placing a hand on his shoulder, you leaned in close and with a breathy whisper of, ‘Let’s get out of here’ he was tossing credits to the bartender and signaling to his guards that he was leaving with you.

The Weequay had shot you a knowing look as he watched you leave; a warning. You assured him that everything was fine with a slight nod of your head.

The asshole had his arm snaked around you, hand on your ass, as you made your way to the motel just across the street. You fought back the urge to throttle him, instead fawning about how, ‘I can’t wait to be alone with you, darling.’

Your hands began to clam up as he retrieved the keys from the clerk, and you tried to convince yourself that everything would be fine once you clicked the button on your comm from the inside of the room.

Wrong.

Immediately after the Pantoran locked the door, the unease in your stomach began to grow. Bile rose in your throat at his grinning face, the way he fidgeted and licked his lips as he pressed you into the wall. A hand landed on your bare thigh, trailing dangerously high, where you shuddered in disgust at the feeling.

“We’re gonna have so much fun,” he whispered, and that was your cue to press the comms device you were desperately clutching in your small purse. Your mistake was failing to mask the faint beeping noise it emitted. Your companion stiffened at the sound, pressing you further into the wall.

“What the hell did you just do?” he growled, using the other hand to rip your arm from your purse. He stared at the comms device with contempt, before turning his attention back to me. “You bi—”

He never got to finish, because the next thing you knew your Mandalorian was crashing through the door, blaster in hand.

The scene Mando had walked in on nearly made him sick. That osi’kovid’s hands all over you, and worst of all, the look of pure fear on your face after being made. He’d planned to put a quick end to the whole ordeal, but the bounty had plans of his own.

Mando rushed him, shoving him into the wall and away from you. As expected, the Pantoran went flying before crumpling onto the floor. What Mando hadn’t been expecting was for him to be armed. He didn’t peg him as the type to get his hands dirty.

The Mandalorian was about to release the fibercord whip from his vambrace when the bounty rose from the floor with a sneer, a small combat knife in hand as he lunged at Mando, before wrestling him to the floor and sending his blaster skittering.

You watched in frozen horror as the two fought for the upper hand. At one point, the bounty had tried to charge at you, slashing wildly, but Mando was already there blocking his blows. The knife caught on the cowl above his chest, slicing the skin underneath with a sickening noise. That seemed to kick your brain into overdrive, and you dived for the fallen blaster on the ground.

You took a steadying breath before you aimed and shot once, twice, at the bounty’s leg. He cried out from his place above Mando before clutching his leg and finally falling over.

Mando rose and immediately released the fibercord, imprisoning the bounty. He held his hand out for his blaster, and you watched with wide eyes as he smacked the butt of it into the Pantoran’s face once, twice, three times. The third time ended with an appalling crack, his head lolling forward, and leaving him unconscious.

You stared as Mando stood in front of the bounty, seething. You could have sworn his hands were shaking.

“Stars, Mando, your neck,” you murmured, breathless. The room was dim, but you could see the dark stain of blood that was beginning to drench his cowl. Your hands went to inspect the wound, but he quickly brushed you off.

“We need to go,” he grunted, gathering the rope and heading towards the back entrance of the room. The two of you hadn’t exactly been quiet and the bounty’s guards were bound to notice their boss had been gone for too long. When you had opened your mouth to argue, to insist that you needed to check his injuries, he was already out the door.

Adrenaline still coursed through your veins as you walked back towards the ship. You pulled your arms tight across your body in an attempt to quell your trembling hands; guilt, bubbling up in your stomach as you replayed the events of the night in your head.

You had been the one to volunteer yourself for the mission.

You were the one who had repeatedly insisted that everything would be fine.

And now, your Mandalorian was bleeding profusely from a nasty wound on his neck.

“Mando,” you pleaded, trying to keep up with him in your ridiculous heels. Instead of acknowledging you, your words fell to deaf ears. He was stomping his way back to the ship, the unconscious bounty in tow.

Worry bloomed in your chest. The wound had looked bad back at the motel, but it was as if he couldn’t even feel it. You could hear his ragged breathing from behind; whether it was from the fight, the long walk, or the wound, you weren’t sure.

“Mando,” you tried again, this time raising your voice as you approached the hatch of the ship.

Nothing.

He let out another grunt as he hauled the bounty onto the ship, towards the carbon-freezing machine. You pursed your lips, jaw clenching in his direction. You did not appreciate being ignored, especially after just half-saving his ass just moments before.

Granted, you were the one that had put him in that position, but that was besides the point.

His back was to you and you stepped closer, ready to unleash a piece of your damn mind, when you stopped. You took in his brooding stance and clenched fists. The tremble in his hands. Anger seemed to roll off the Mandalorian in waves, making you falter.

What the hell was his problem?

“Mando, can you kriffing listen to me? I need to treat you, you have no idea if he nicked an important artery or something. I don’t know what you’re so worked up about, but you’ve been bleeding for a few minutes now and I just need to look—” annoyance rose in you as he continued to prep the carbon machine. “Maker, can you even hear me?”

The Mandalorian couldn’t hear you, not clearly anyways. Blood was still rushing in his ears, his vision still tinged red. But with another call of his name, you were finally able to get through and he suddenly whipped around.

“He touched you,” he gritted out, seething and shaking. “That skanah had his hands all over you and I swear if I didn’t need him alive for the bounty, he’d already be dead.” He punctuated the last word with the slam of a button on the machine.

You took a step back, eyes wide and brows furrowed. Something warm tightened in your chest and belly. Wh-why did he care so much? A lump had lodged itself into your throat. “Mando, I—I’m fine. Alright? I’m okay,” you tried to assure. “So, can you please calm down and let me just—"

But the Mandalorian already had his back turned again. You threw your hands up in the air, groaning in frustration as he continued to work. Another minute passed and with a faint whoosh, the bounty was finally set in carbonite.

A shiver ran through your body as the cool night air blew its way into the Razor Crest, raising goosebumps on your exposed skin. Seeing you tremble in the cold seemed to break Mando out of whatever angry stupor he was in.

In all honesty, he hadn’t meant to ignore you, but something in him snapped back at the motel. The image of that skanah touching you had made his blood boil, and his sole goal was to get him back to the ship and be done with it.

“You’re… cold,” he stated, the words coming out slow and soft, like pulling them out of a dream. You must have been freezing in that dress.

Your head snapped up at him. “I—what?”

“Let me get you a blanket or—” He hesitated when he saw you pinch the bridge of your nose, eyes screwed shut.

You couldn’t believe this idiot.

“Mando, seriously?” Your heart and your brain were having a hard time deciding whether you should be flattered about him caring so much or pissed off because he didn’t seem to give a damn about himself.

You chose a mix of the two.

“Mando,” you sighed, looking up at him. “I promise you I’m fine, thank you. Really.” You gave him your most genuine, caring look to show you were thankful for his concern, and then quickly replaced it with a hard one. “But if you don’t get up into that cockpit right now and let me treat you, I’m going to use that damn pulse rifle on you.”

And just like that, you had managed to dissolve the lingering traces of anger in his mind. His lips twitched under the helmet. “That supposed to scare me?”

You glared. “Don’t push it.” You could have sworn he was laughing under there.

The Mandalorian would have laughed if the wound on his neck hadn’t began to ache. Instead, he begrudgingly nodded, throwing his hands up in mock surrender before disappearing into the cockpit.

He began to input the coordinates back to Nevarro into the navicomputer, warmth unfurling in his chest as he listened to you check on the Child. A tiredness had begun to settle in his muscles from the fight earlier, and he grimaced as he reached for a lever on the control panel. The pain on his neck was getting worse, and if he was being honest it burned like all hell, but he was not going to admit that to you.

The door behind him slid open and you stepped in frazzled, medkit in hand. Even with your hair in disarray and scrapes littering your arms and legs, he thought you looked breathtaking.

“Uh, so bad news,” you began, gesturing at the medkit. “They didn’t have any at the market earlier, so we’re out of bacta shots and spray. I’m gonna have to stitch it closed depending on how deep it is.” You shot him an apologetic look.

He nodded, putting in the last of the coordinates before removing his chest plate to give you easier access, and turning his chair to face you. You closed the space between the two of you, quickly going to work. Careful hands began to peel away at the fabric stuck to the wound, a hiss of pain at the tip of his tongue as you ripped off the last of it.

“Sorry,” you whispered, inspecting the fabric before discarding it. “You’re definitely gonna need a new cape.”

He shrugged. “At least now you’ve got a new blanket.” You always had a habit of curling up into all his old stuff.

With a smile, you returned your focus to the task at hand, mentally sighing in relief as you began to clean the wound. It could have been worse, but it was still very deep. An inch to the left and just a smidge higher, and you would have had quite the problem on your hands.

“Idiot,” you muttered.

“What was that?”

“Lucky,” you corrected, biting back a smirk. “You got lucky. Any higher and this would be a lot messier.” You tossed the last of the gauze out and prepared the needle and thread.

Mando took in your awkward stance as you tried to bend down and begin stitching. Standing was fine for when you were cleaning, but for something this intricate it wasn’t the best position. You cursed and tried again, trying to get the angle right, but it was no use. The thought left his mouth before he even had a chance to filter it.

“You can sit on me if that’s easier.”

Heat blazed on your cheeks at his words, nearly dropping the damn needle. “Oh—um—” Coherent thoughts didn’t seem to be forming in your head at the moment.

Panic flooded the Mandalorian’s brain as he took in your shocked expression and realized his mistake. “I—well, not like that—what I meant was—” he spluttered, trying to find the right words, thankful that his helmet hid his mortified expression.

“No, no it’s okay I—I know what you meant,” you managed to choke out after picking your jaw up off the floor. It would have been comical—the certain and capable bounty hunter struggling to regain his composure—but his words had flooded your mind with some less than innocent thoughts and images, ones that left you heated and flustered. You swallowed hard in an attempt to relieve your suddenly very dry throat. “I can, if you’re okay with it?”

He slowly nodded, mentally kicking himself for being so daft. He held his breath as you stepped closer, bracing a hand low on his chest as you perched yourself on his lap. You cursed, trying to your best to maneuver yourself onto him without being inappropriate.

Finally, you were situated, hovering precariously over his thigh. You breathed deep, willing your mind and body to calm down. Being in such close proximity to the Mandalorian was… dizzying, but you had a job to do. And so, you went to work.

A few minutes in, Mando could feel the tension rolling off your body, the tremble of your thighs as you tried to hold yourself above him. “You can sit if you need to.”

The thought had crossed your mind, but truthfully you were afraid of how your body would react if you did. Eventually you gave in, shivering at the cold kiss of beskar on the insides of your thighs as you straddled his leg. A knot was forming in your belly, low and warm.

Maker, help me, you thought.

The change in position had slid your dress higher and Mando’s eyes began to wander again, taking in the exposed skin where your dress had hiked itself up, the material bunching around your hips. His hands felt that pull again, that ache to touch you; to dig his fingers into the soft, plump flesh.

Osik, he cursed, trying to control himself. In his mind he conjured up the image of a blaster, mentally taking it apart and putting it back together as a pitiful attempt at a distraction.

You had fallen into a steady rhythm of stitching and knotting, your hands absentmindedly working. The Mandalorian had fallen into a dull haze in the wake of your delicate touches, despite the sting and pull of the needle. But when your hands brushed the edge of his helmet, he snapped to attention, reflexes kicking in.

A strong hand had immediately encircled your wrist, forcefully locking it in place. Your breath seized at the realization of your colossal fuck-up. How could you be so stupid?

“Shit, shit, I—I’m sorry,” you stammered out. “Mando, I—I promise I wasn’t going to take it off, I just needed to adjust it to get the needle under.” Your heart thundered against your chest, and you swear you could hear it in the empty silence of the cockpit. The iron-clad grip he had on your wrist was starting to hurt, biting into your skin.

Mando saw the flash of fear in your eyes, the way you had flinched at his touch and loosened the grip on your hand. Regret began to bubble up inside him. He opened his mouth to apologize, it had just been his instincts, but you beat him to it. Your next words caught him off guard.

“Do you trust me?”

He swallowed hard. Of course he did. There was no question about it. You were the one constant in his life besides the kid; the one he found he could rely on time and time again for anything. You had never betrayed him, in Creed or otherwise. He took a steadying breath before answering. “Yes.”

You tried to ignore the burst of warmth in your chest at his admission and what it implied. Instead, you nodded, slowly allowing yourself to move again and continue your care. “Lean back,” you whispered and he obliged, fully baring his neck to you. It was a vulnerable position, but the cautious movements of your hands crushed any anxiety that threatened to well up in him.

And maybe it was that cautious, careful touch that had begun to wear down his walls; the tenderness you so freely gave that softened his heart and opened him up. He wanted to make up the last minute to you, to show that he really did trust you. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t stop the next thing that tumbled out of his mouth.

“Din.”

You paused mid-stitch, confusion flickering on your face. “What’d you say?”

His heart felt like it was going to fly out of his ribcage. “My name. It’s Din.”

Confusion slowly morphed to shock at his revelation. He had just shared his name with you; something incredibly personal and dear to him. Knowing it felt… intimate. How many people actually knew his real name? You couldn’t stop that slow smile that had begun to spread on your face.

“Din,” you repeated, hushed as if someone else would hear. His heart skipped at the sound of his name on your lips; the soft way your voice curled around the short syllable. Your eyes peered into his through the visor of his helmet, a question behind them. “Just ‘Din’?”

“Din Djarin,” he corrected.

You repeated it again, delight clear on your face. “I like it.”

I do too, he thought. Especially when you say it. “You can use it whenever, as long as we’re alone or it’s just the kid.”

“Of course,” you nodded, then added a soft, “Thank you.” For trusting me.

The two of you had settled back into a comfortable silence, his hands resting comfortably on your hips, and Din couldn’t fathom why you kept biting back a smile. You were the first to break it.

“I’m sorry, for all this.”

“It’s fine, it’s not that painful.”

You shook your head. “No, I mean—” you gestured at his neck and then to you. “He was aiming for me.”

He scoffed. “You’re out of your mind if you think I’d let anything happen to you.” You could hear the anger beginning to simmer beneath his words again. “No, I… I would protect you every single time. Besides, that osi’yaim got what he deserved in the end.”

Your eyes flicked to his visor again and you tried to ignore the way the knot in your belly tightened at his promise to you and the shiver his low voice sent down your spine. Instead, you tried to change the subject. “Osi’yaim?”

“A useless, despicable person. A waste of space.”

A soft laugh escaped you lips. “You need to teach more Mando’a. Something besides the bad words.”

Din’s heart clenched at your request. Something about you asking to learn his language stirred something deep in him. “Of course,” he managed to reply, but it came out more strangled than he had meant it to.

You continued with your task, getting lost in the repeated movements of your fingers.

Watching you work had always fascinated Din. You granted each injury the same amount of attention, whether it was as small as a papercut or as big as the gash he had now. It was endearing. The meticulous way you ensured every stitch, every bandage, was perfect and in place. The adept movements of your fingers, steady with every touch. The way you bit your lip and furrowed your brow as you concentrated.

He was captivated by it, and you, every time.

His gaze was concealed by his helmet most of the time, but tonight you could feel the weight of his eyes on you. Your cheeks began to burn at the thought of him staring at you so closely and you thanked the maker that he couldn’t see the crimson hue painting your face.

“Are you warm?” he asked, the low rumble of his voice startling you.

“What?”

“You’ve been shivering since you started, but… you’re all flushed,” he explained.

Your eyes widened at his words, heart stopping. “Wait—how can you see my—”

“Heat sensors.” Din couldn’t help but notice the way the heat on your face spread even more, down the soft slopes of your neck and chest.

Of course, heat sensors. You were absolutely mortified, a nervous laugh erupting from your chest. May as well be honest.

“No, not warm, more like embarrassed,” you tried to explain, unable to meet his eyes.

Din tilted his head, trying to understand. “Why?”

You scoffed. “’Cause I just realized I’ve been sticking my ugly mug in your face for the past 20 minutes.”

Din was dumbfounded. Ugly? The mere thought of you seeing yourself in that way made his heart ache. How could you think such a thing when he saw you as the most radiant thing in this galaxy? That, every time he saw you, he had to remind himself to breathe?

He had no idea what the in blazes he was doing, but he knew that he couldn’t let you go on thinking such things about yourself. Din reached out and tilted your chin up towards him, making you meet his eyes.

“Cyar’ika, you are the furthest thing from ugly that someone could be. I—you are absolutely stunning. Do you—do you know what seeing you in that dress tonight did to me?” he confessed, letting out a breathy laugh. The front of his pants tightened in reminder. “I’ll teach you something new in Mando’a right now.” He paused, letting his fingers brush over your chin. “Mesh’la.”

It felt like you were on fire at that point, burning under his gaze, but somehow you found your voice underneath all the flames. “What does it mean?” you breathed, unable to mask the tremble in your voice.

“Beautiful,” he murmured. “You’re beautiful.”

Your body betrayed you, melting into a puddle with just a taste of his touch and the boldness of his words. It was a devastating effect, and there was no denying the dampness that had pooled between your legs now. You managed to stutter out a, ‘thank you’ before trying to finish the last knot of his stitches.

“All done,” you whispered.

Din watched as you admired your handiwork and noticed that you made no move to remove yourself from him. Instead, your hands were softly dragging across the planes of his exposed chest, leaving a trail of fire wherever they went. It was such a foreign feeling, flesh against flesh on such a shielded part of his body. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had touched him there, let alone so gently.

A strangled sound caught in his throat as you brushed over a particularly sensitive spot, just above the other side of his collarbone. It was almost too much, the shot of electricity that singed his nerves, but it felt good.

His body involuntarily bucked at the sensation and his hands gripped your hips roughly, pressing you flush against him.

You gasped at the sensation, of your clothed core dragging against the beskar plate on his thigh, your knee brushing against the bulge that had tented his pants. Your hands scrabbled to find something, anything, to anchor yourself from the blinding pleasure that fizzled through you.

“Maker,” Din murmured, letting out a shuddering breath. “Osik, cyar’ika, I’m didn’t mean to touch you like that but—”

“But what if I want you to?” your own voice sounding foreign to your ears. You did not miss the way his breath hitched, caught in the modulator of his helmet.

Din’s mind was reeling. “You—you want me to?” he swallowed thickly around the ball of shock that was caught in his throat.

And you’re nodding, eyes dark and body and mind clouded with need, leading his hands up your torso and chest; but Din, he needs to hear you say it. “Use your words, cyar’ika. I need to hear you.”

“Yes, Din. Please,” and that’s enough to dissolve any shred of self-control he thought he had. The sound of you saying his name like that, a plea for him and only him, was maddening.

His hands were on you in an instant; hands that you had seen nearly beat a man to death just for touching you, but on you they were soft, gentle. Desperate, but tender. Rough, but passionate and loving. The contrast was making your head spin.

“Din,” you whimpered. “You have to be careful, your cut—”

“I don’t care,” he rasped. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to touch you? Make you mine?” He pulled you closer against him, hands grasping at anything he could reach. He wanted to erase any trace of the bounty from your presence.

You tried to answer, but you were a mess, filling the cockpit with soft moans and mewls as you bucked your hips on his thigh.

“I want to watch you make yourself feel good, can you do that? Just like this?” You frantically bobbed your head. “Good,” he answered, stroking your cheek. “You deserve it after tonight, sweet girl.”

The sound of ‘sweet girl’ sent wet heat straight to your core. If anything, you thought he was the one that deserved to be taken care of right now. But you were not about to argue with the Mandalorian who insisted on you using him to get yourself off.

Your hands pawed at his chest again, struggling to find some kind of purchase to anchor yourself. They finally settled for his biceps, nails digging deep. He watched as you grinded down on his thigh, eyes screwed shut. His hands fingered the strap of your dress and you nodded, giving him permission to slide it down.

Din took in the sight of your bare chest, your nipples pebbling in the cold air of the cockpit. He ached to take them into his mouth, hear you whimper and moan against his tongue, but he settled for brushing his gloved fingers over them and watching you arch.

You ground down harder, desperate you get the friction you needed. Din’s hands slipped from your breasts down back to your hips, stilling them. A high whine escaped your throat and it was almost pitiful.

“Up,” he instructed, confusion marring your face as you lifted yourself off his leg. He gripped the thigh plate and dropped it to the ground, promptly setting you back onto his thigh. “Wanna feel you,” he growled, and you could only moan in response.

Soon enough, your arousal had seeped through your panties and onto the fabric of his pants. The heady smell hit his nose and his mouth watered, desperate to know what you tasted like, to know what sounds you would make if he buried his face between your thighs.

You guided his hands back up your chest, up to your neck. His fingers cupped your face again, thumb brushing the bottom of your lip. You held his hand in place, biting the leather tip of his glove and slowly slid it off, letting it drop between you.

The feeling of his bare thumb resting on your lips sent another wave of arousal through you. “Wanna feel you,” you breathed, grinning before taking his thumb into your mouth and sucking hard. Din’s eyes rolled back and he groaned; the sight of your hollowed-out cheeks and the sensation of your tongue on the pad of his thumb nearly sent him over the edge.

One hand trailed to the base of your neck, tangling itself softly in your hair. He took in the way your eyes were screwed shut, the furrow in your brows as you chased your high. You had taken your bottom lip between your teeth, biting hard and almost splitting it from the pressure. It was almost the same concentrated expression you wore as you tended to his injuries, though it was clear you were concentrated on something far more rewarding now.

“Mesh’la,” he commanded. “Look at me.”

You wretched your eyes open, fixing your gaze on him.

Din watched, enraptured, as you continued to pleasure yourself. You were a sight before him; pupils blown, mouth agape, chest heaving as you tried to ease the ache in your belly. He was lost in the way your eyes sparkled, perfectly matching the dark galaxy you were set against just outside the viewport.

Your moans filled the cockpit, desperate sounds and pleads of Din’s name as he sent delicious licks of pleasure throughout your body. You held on for dear life, panting as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

He feels the tension simmering from your shuddering figure, like a coil just waiting to spring.

“Are you close, mesh’la?” he whispered, his words and the rasp of his voice sending you higher and higher. “Are you going to come for me?”

And you’re a wreck, whimpering and pleading, yes, Din, yes; and all Din can think is he can die happy knowing how you moan his name. He shifts you, pulls you right onto the straining bulge in his pants and you both gasp, the sensation pulling you even closer to your orgasm. A bare hand snakes between where the two of you are pressed against each other and he presses right onto your clit.

A sob tears from your throat and stars burst behind your eyes as you’re pushed off the edge; and you’re falling, waves of ecstasy washing over you and burning straight to your toes. Din holds you close as your body continues to shudder, a steady hand on your back coaxing you down from your high. He lets out a groan when he feels evidence of your orgasm seep through to his clothed cock.

Fog clouds the bottom of his helmet as you softly pant, the pleasure lulling to a dull thrum in your veins. He’s admiring your sleepy eyes, the flushed cheeks of your afterglow. You give off a shy smile, peering into his visor. “Beautiful,” he murmurs right next to your ear. “Just like I said.”

“Thank you,” you hum, pressing a searing kiss onto his bare neck and sliding a hand over the hardness trapped beneath you.

Din hisses at your touch and you laugh, trying to ease the ache between his own legs. “Mesh’la,” he warns, grunting at the loss of contact as you lift yourself off him and slide between his knees, kneeling.

“Yes?” you respond, sliding your hands up and down his thighs, and pausing at the button of his pants.

“You don’t have to—” he starts, but you quickly cut him off.

“But I want to, Din,” you assured. You rest your head on his knee, peering up at him with wide, innocent eyes, awaiting his permission. “Wanna return the favor, wanna taste you,” and you grin at the strangled sound that leaves his throat. He couldn’t deny you even if he wanted to.

Finally, he nods, spreading his legs wider to accommodate you. Your smile grows and your nimble fingers make quick work of the buttons on his pants. You’re just about to free him from the confines of his boxers when an alarm signal sounds from the ship, startling the both of you.

“Come in, Mando,” Greef Karga’s voice crackled through the small room. “We’ve got a problem. I repeat, we’ve got an emergency, please come in.”

Din groans and you throw an exasperated look towards the comms on the control panel. “Just ignore him, it can’t be that—” and you’re cut off by another sound.

The unmistakable sound of a baby crying.

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath, pressing your forehead into Din’s knee. You loved that little green bean to death, but damn him for his horrific timing. Din softly slid his hand over yours and you looked up.

“It’s alright, cyar’ika,” he hummed. “Go check on him,” and you slowly nodded, shooting him an apologetic look before rising from your spot on the floor.

Din watched in mild amusement as you wobbled to the door, before turning his chair towards the control panel and sighing. His own arousal was almost overwhelming, but he did his best to shove it to the back of his mind.

Whatever Greef needed, it had better be good, he grumbled in his head.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

mando’a translations:

osi’kovid – shithead

skanah – very hated person, fucker

osik – shit

osi’yaim – cowardly, useless person

cyar’ika – darling, beloved

mesh’la – beautiful

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

thank you for reading! let me know what ya think!

#the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian #din djarin #star wars #star wars fanfiction #make you mine #certaindark writing #the mandalorian smut #smut #AHHHH I HOPE Y'ALL LIKE IT #IDK HOW TO TAG LOL #I’M SO NERVOUS ABOUT POSTING THIS BUT IT’S FINE #din djarin x reader

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burstingsunrise · 3 years ago

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I will be very happy if you recommend your favorite fics to me! I just discovered Ao3, I was a Wattpad girl, so embarrassing!

I’m screaming at the unbolded “so embarrassing.” At least you’re self aware, anon! I think you’ll find ao3 is an entirely different (and I think much better!) world.

Okay so since I’m not exactly sure what your preferences are in terms of pairings and content, I’m going to rec some authors whose ao3 profiles are full of all sorts of good stuff and call out some of my favorites along the way. Definitely recommend checking out the tags on everything first just to be sure it’s content you’re comfortable with. (Although if you’ve come from wattpad…I suspect you’ll be safe here /hj)

@kaleidoscopeminds / kaleidoscopeminds on ao3

Meg is really the other key dealer of cake fit content around these parts. All of her fics are outstanding but a couple of my personal favorites are and what if you’d never smiled at me and dream makes the sounds (that carry me so far away).

@daydadahlias / daydadahlias on ao3

If you’re okay with smut, jess’s fics are a must-read. You’ll find mostly lashton, but there’s some extremely high quality cake sprinkled in there too. My favorites are original orpheus and the ask for more series.

@clumsyclifford / bellawritess on ao3

Bella has written SO MANY fantastic fics and there’s a ton of variety if you want to read different pairings! My favorites are we’ve got flames in our veins and more than just a neon weekend.

@lifewasradical / lifewasradical on ao3

If you are a fan of angst (usually with a happy ending), Amanda’s got you covered. Lots of variety here too; I’m a bit biased but I love the fic she JUST wrote for my birthday, I lied to you like a promise on new year’s day and her soulmate au, you showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else.

@cringeycal / petalrock on ao3

Adri has a very special way of writing really poignant emotions with humor and levity and it’s just very unique and fun. once again I am biased but I highly recommend creek effect kids. You should read that one before summer is over for maximum impact.

@ashtcnirwin / elivigar on ao3

If you somehow have not come across tidal wave yet, that’s a must read, and Anna is incredibly helpful and accommodating in providing guidance to avoid any content you might not be comfortable with. Also highly recommend I don’t ever wanna wait for this because it’s Anna writing cake and that’s all you need.

@calumcest / softirwin on ao3

Wow, okay, so like…Helen is basically the reason most of us are even writing 5sos fic this day and age, and she has some incredible fics. You should read them all, but standouts for me are if these walls could talk (they’ve seen way too many things) and fight so dirty but your love’s so sweet.

This is getting long-winded but here’s a quick collection of some other writers worth checking out on ao3:

@escapesos / woahsos on ao3

@squishmichael / jbhmalum on ao3

@ashesonthefloor / ashisonthefloor on ao3

@allsassnoclass / brightblackholes on ao3

@calumthoodshands / calumthoodshands on ao3

@calumsclifford / expectopatronuz on ao3

@fourdrunksluts / fourdrunksluts on ao3

@tirednotflirting / yellingatbabylon on ao3

@blackbutterfliescal / heyheyarnold on ao3

@takemealive / mukelftv on ao3

Some of the above are not super active (or active in this fandom) these days, but have some great older stuff!

And finally, two of my favorite fics, both from orphaned accounts. (Insert rant about how I am POSITIVE these are by the same author and I want them to COME BACK PLEASE!!!):

Take the pieces, build them skywards

When did the diamonds leave your bones

WHEW okay hope that was helpful for you! this is very broad, but if you have any more specific preferences on pairings/tropes let me know and i'm happy to make some more specific recs! 💜

#5sos fic #fic recs #this is like a #fic recs masterlist #almost #like this is robust #hi everyone i tagged love u #ask #anon #i am not convinced these tags are working but what can you do #god i hope all these links are right #i'm sweating

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kinstincts · 3 years ago

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heyyy i was wondering if you know anything about horn implants and how it works, if it's even possible to get a procedure like this ⬇️ done

I've done some digging and couldn't find anything other than suggestions on how to get it done

Sure thing! So these would be transdermal implants. Here and here are some posts I've previously made. (I realize I need a consistent tagging system, oops!)

This is a transdermal implant. Essentially, transdermals are single-point piercings, but a bit more intense. When the location of the implant is marked, the mod artist will create a slit where a scar would be easily hidden (usually in the hairline) and they will use a surgical elevator to raise the skin enough to put the implant in place (at what point the second hole is created I'm not sure, I haven't gotten it done and I haven't asked specifically.)

What makes a transdermal different than a subdermal is that the transdermal does have the jewelry poking out from the skin, while subdermals stay below the skin.

This implant in particular is Samppa von Cyborg's design I believe. Here is a link to the Facebook post he made about it. The link in his description is now defunct it looks like, but here is a website archive of it.

Essentially, he designed it this way because of medical advancements in implant technology. The holes are made to mimic deer antlers iirc. They are small and numerous so that the flesh will regrow into it, minimalizing infection and risk of bacteria, and making it so that it has a strong, sturdy connection so that it won't migrate and risk further damage.

And WHEW! I was trying to pinpoint who it was in the first photo--there are a lot more orcs around than I thought! That picture is of Diabao Praddo, and he actually has a bunch of transdermals! Here is a post of how his transdermals look without the horn attachments. (I mostly just wanted to confirm that they were indeed transdermals and not costume pieces. But in retrospect, if somebody is this heavily modded I don't think they would skimp in the horn department lmao)

His posts are in Portuguese so I can't give much further information about how his transdermals are attached. Some are screw-ins, some are magnetic. It depends on what jewelry you buy.

When it comes to transdermal jewelry, my best suggestion would be to contact mod artists and see if they have anything available. I know Samppa stocks his bio-mechanical horn designs but they aren't listen on his website (nor are the actual implants, I'm guessing so he can make sure that they are going into the proper hands.)

Steve Haworth is another person who may have some leads if you contact him.

Hope this helps!

#body modification #transdermal horns #transdermal implants #transdermals

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naralanis · 3 years ago

Text

Fic Writer Review!

Thanks @mssirey for the tag! I totally didn't have a crisis with the very last question, not at all bwhahaha

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

41, soon to be 42. ASJKLDBLAHSDSD how. And also why. But mostly, how.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

565,934 EXCUSE ME WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK. I was going to check my unpublished works but ya know what. Maybe I've written enough akdjsa

3. How many fandoms have you written for?

Technically speaking, I've written and published fics for five fandoms. However, I only have one story for OUAT (and I have @shadowdianne to thank for that... or do I?) and one for Captain Marvel. Mirandy was my first love, Cissamione the second, and Supercorp has burrowed in my brain and just won't let go.

I've also technically written for Xena, Legend of Korra, and Criminal Minds, but since I never published those, we're going to pretend they don't exist!

4. Top 5 fics by kudos?

Only two are WIPs! YEAH! They're the top two, but WHO CARES, here they are:

1) Perhaps, aka my baby, my child, my darling, the apple of my eye. If I ever had to choose to finish only ONE of my WIPs, this would be the one. This story has grown with me, and I think you can tell when you read. Or maybe not!

2) For the Better. If the former is my baby, this one is like... my moody teenager. I love it dearly, but... it takes a lot out of me. An ode to one of the first fandoms I actively wrote for, it sits unfinished, but nearly, oh so nearly done. I will finish it, damn ittt.

3) The Date. Honestly, this one really surprised me -- it's one of my oldest one-shots, and something I definitely dashed off between lectures back in Scotland, maybe alternating with FtB chapters. It's one of my first attempts at humour, I think.

4) Bits and Pieces. AYY, I wasn't sure Supercorp would make the cut, WOOOT! This one was the second Supercorp fic I ever wrote, and I did it because Lena Is Baby and the idea just wouldn't leave my brain.

And lastly, the fabulous number 5... Perfect. AKA Nara's First (published) Explicit Fic, featuring Praise Kink and an Enchanted Dildo (for... reasons). I'm not gonna lie, I am so HAPPY this one made it, because it has a special place in my heart. It's where Soft Butch Hermione comes to life, and if you don't love Soft Butch Hermione, I'm sorry, we can't be friends. I love her.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why/why not?

Eeermmm... some? I do want to respond, but I'm terrible with keeping up with comments, I really am. For whatever reason, even when I do my best, I don't really love responding directly on AO3. I also turned off all email notifications for AO3 because turns out my brain WILL be distracted by even a single one.

I'm much more responsive on Tumblr, I promise!

6. A fic you've written with the angstiest ending:

Any of my Narlily works, I guess? Like... All Flowers Wither or Carry On.

Unshackled would be another one, though it's Cissamione... but I caved and made a happy(ish) second part for that one.

7. Do you write crossovers?

Nope! Crossovers just don't do it for me, generally speaking (reading or writing).

8. Ever received hate on a fic?

EvEr rEcEIvEd hAtE-- yes. Oh, yes. I've been told my writing is terrible, I've been told my stories were a 'waste of time,' or 'overhyped,' I've had people tell me there was only One Way to write a certain pairing and my way was definitely Not The Way.

The list goes on.

It used to really, really bother me--still does, but in a much smaller way. Delete/Block buttons are my friends.

9. Do you write smut?

I write an absurd amount of smut. I just don't publish any of it because. Fear.

My pretty, pretty pens have created some filthy, filthy things.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

A couple of times -- only once or twice like, straight up attributed to someone else who acted like they were the one writing it. The other times were reposts or translations (without my permission, so still. stolen).

11. Ever had a fic translated?

I've authorized a couple of translations of a few of my DWP works. I'm usually cool with people translating my stuff IF THEY ASK ME FIRST and GIVE ME PROPER CREDIT.

9/10 it's some Brazilian who translates it to Portuguese without my permission and then gets upset when I, another Brazilian, do not endorse it and politely ask them to take the thing down. Thankfully it's been a while. ASK ME, DAMN IT.

12. Have you ever co-written a fic?

Nothing published bwhaha!

13. All-time favourite ship?

Right now SuperCorp is definitely barking a little louder, so to speak, but I don't really have one favourite overall. It depends on the fandom, sometimes! Cissamione is very dear to my heart, because it's just so fucking out there and literally every one in this ship has some of the most fascinating headcanons for this pairing and it's just. So wonderful.

14. WIP you want to finish, but don't think you ever will?

Eeeeuuughhh.... Right now? Probably The Appraisal. I forget what I wanted to do with it, I'm not sure if I'm still feeling the premise... IDK.

I think the same could be said of For the Better, but I PROMISED to finish it, and GOD DAMN IT, I am so close I can't throw in the towel just yet.

15. Writing strengths?

You want ME to say good things about MYSELF? I'm still learning how to do that asldkjbasdn it's a work in progress. But I think I'd say... maybe world-building, at least on my longer works?

I would also like to think I do pretty OK in... IDK, some of the punchy stuff? The 'oh wait a minute' moment? IDK if that makes sense!

16. Writing weaknesses?

Organizing. Plot (HAHA IKR). Consistency. Editing (which is rich from someone who literally edits shit for a living... but go figure). Pacing. Weirdly long sentences? Commas for DAYS.

I could go on.

17. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in a fic?

I am a-OK attempting it in French/Spanish/Portuguese. It may not sound natural, but it will be correct. If I'm trying another language, I'll definitely get help! But I've got no problem with it.

18. First fandom you ever wrote for?

Harry Potter, Dramione specifically, and you'll never find a shred of it. I was like 12, and almost a decade later I figured out Hermione was much better off with Draco's mother.

19. What's your fav fic you've written so far?

DON'T MAKE ME CHOOOSE asdkljasdl I CAAANNN'TTTT

I mean, obviously Perhaps is one of them -- it is my baby, that has been established. I think Little Bumps in the Road is also up there, because it was just a random writing exercise that got out of hand, and honestly? I'm here for it. Andddd.... I GUESS I'll put A Valentine's Evening up there as well, because it was the first time I didn't second guess every word I wrote when posting smut. I just... felt it, went for it, wrote it, and it felt really, really good to release some of that into the world lol

WHEW, this was a long one! I'll be tagging @intheinkpot, @shadowdianne, @delirious-comfort, and @16-pennies because I am a curious bastard. But, as always, feel free to treat this as an open tag. Go nuts!

#tag game #this was illuminating in several ways #aka i need to finish my wips #(though that ain't exactly news)#but more importantly #i've written way more than I think I have #and ya know what #it's OK to be proud of that #i am proud of all my children #and i love them all equally #*side eyes Decisions Decisions Decisions*#even you #nara rambles

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mlmanakin · 4 years ago

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Okay okay king because your taste is impeccable, I need your sw book recs

to preface all of this: i recommend reading what you’re interested in. in my experience, there isn’t really any star wars book that is so exceptional that i would recommend it even if you don’t care about the main character(s) or subject(s). (i say this... but there are a few recs that i mention you should try reading even if you’re not interested in the character[s] or subject[s].)

and my book rec list ended up being (almost) every book i’ve read in recent memory, so that should be an indication of how uncritical i am when it comes to books. these books range from “must-read that i've reread too many times to count” to “i read it once and enjoyed it well enough,” so i starred (⭐) a few standouts from the list.

here’s a link to a masterpost of legends book downloads.

books

canon

⭐ the ahsoka novel. some of ahsoka’s adventures between the clone wars and rebels. bonus: audiobook is voiced by ashley eckstein. ahsoka’s story in the “present” is fine, but the real standout moments in this book are the flashbacks and ahsoka reflecting on her past.

a new dawn. some of kanan and hera’s adventures before rebels.

master & apprentice. some of qui-gon and obi-wan’s adventures before the phantom menace.

from a certain point of view. an anthology of short stories focused around a new hope, told from unique perspectives. by its nature as an anthology featuring dozens of authors, it’s a mixed bag, but worth a read - and you can always skip a story that isn’t holding your interest.

legends

⭐ all of the prequel novelizations (both junior and adult), especially matthew stover’s revenge of the sith. if you love the prequels, you’ll love them even more after reading these. if you don’t love the prequels, you’ll learn to love them after reading these.

⭐ the legends clone wars books (the clone wars by karen traviss, wild space by karen miller, no prisoners by karen traviss, stealth by karen miller, and siege by karen miller). released after the 2008 tv show began but before the disney takeover (i.e. feature ahsoka). i haven’t actually read these myself, but they are highly and widely recommended by others, so i’m putting them here. (and i have read a few bits and pieces that were... WHEW!!!!!!!)

i would recommend some more myself but my memory of the other legends books i have read is very weak, so just check out padawanlost’s book rec tag here - it’s what i’ll be using when i finally get back into legends books.

comics

canon

i’m dividing this into two tiers bc i’ve read so many. upper tier is more highly recommended than lower tier, but lower tier is definitely still worth a read.

upper tier:

⭐ the age of republic comics. some adventures of various republic era characters (qui-gon, obi-wan, anakin, padme, maul, jango [and boba], dooku, grievous, rex, asajj, mace). even if you’re not interested in the main character of an issue, i’d recommend reading it anyway. they’re very short and very good. + i haven’t read them, but there are age of rebellion and age of resistance comics as well if you’re interested in that.

the kanan comics. some of kanan’s adventures both before and during rebels.

the thrawn comics. some of thrawn’s adventures before his appearance in rebels, featuring pryce as well. an adaption of the first book in the new thrawn trilogy, which i haven’t read yet - although i plan to and it’s pretty widely praised.

the obi-wan & anakin comics. some of obi-wan and anakin’s adventures after the phantom menace.

the darth maul comics (marvel 2017). some of maul’s adventures before the phantom menace.

the star wars adventures: clone wars - battle tales comics. some of the clones’ adventures during the very beginning of the clone wars, featuring some jedi as well. currently releasing. the first issue was some superb lighthearted clone wars content.

lower tier:

the main star wars adventures comics (i.e. the battle tales comics are essentially a spin-off of this). some of (almost) everyone’s adventures all over the star wars timeline. i haven’t read all of them, but if you like the battle tales comics, they’re very similar and worked on by some of the same people.

the son of dathomir comics. some of maul’s adventures between the lawless and the siege of mandalore.

the dark lord of the sith comics. some of vader’s adventures between revenge of the sith and a new hope.

the main star wars comic series (marvel 2015). some of the original trio’s adventures between a new hope and the empire strikes back.

the main darth vader comic series (marvel 2015). some of vader’s adventures between a new hope and the empire strikes back.

legends

⭐ the legends clone wars comics, listed here so you know what i’m talking about. released before the 2008 tv show began (i.e. do not feature ahsoka). feature a variety of characters throughout the clone wars.

the other legends clone wars comics, listed here so you know what i’m talking about. released after the 2008 tv show began but before the disney takeover (i.e. feature ahsoka). each comic arc is like an arc from the tv show. includes the comic that the slaves of the republic arc was adapted from.

the other other legends clone wars comics, listed here so you know what i’m talking about. companions to episodes of the 2008 tv show, usually a more detailed prologue for the episode.

the star wars visionaries comics. the content of the visionaries comics is difficult to describe, but the comics are a mixed bag with some beautiful art by the revenge of the sith concept artists. a few very interesting stories, including maul with cybernetic legs returning to tatooine to fight obi-wan... and this was released in 2005 🤔 (although i don’t think that story specifically was ever considered canon.)

the comic adaptations of the prequels.

bonus: not books or comics

these aren’t books or comics but they’re not movies or tv shows, so i’m including them here.

⭐ knights of the old republic i & ii. excellent star wars video games. gameplay is dated, but knights of the old republic ii specifically is top-tier star wars content, especially if you’re into the force, the jedi, the sith, etc. if you’re a fan of other bioware or obsidian games (fallout, mass effect, dragon age, etc.), you should definitely try these.

⭐ forces of destiny. excellent ~2-minute animated shorts on youtube focused on female characters. superb lighthearted content. “unexpected company” is the best.

#ask #anonymous #i really don't read many books anymore #and what i do read i forget so fast #i swear this summer is gonna be my sw book renaissance #i did not go back a proofread this so...#sorry if i'm incoherent

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ralexsol · 4 years ago

Text

On the Subject of Underverse S2

You read that correctly: this is a post about one of the greatest shows ever created, the Undertale animated series Underverse, written/animated by @jakei95. I have a lot of theories that I’ve been pulling together ever since I watched both Underverse and Xtale (the Underverse prequel series). Maybe one or two have no basis in anything, but for some reason they popped into my head and I’ll stick by them until they’re proven incorrect. I will discuss the possibility of a Geno/Ink fight, Fresh!Ink, XI (you’ll definitely want to read their section!), and the fates of many different characters. This is quite the long post, so buckle up for a long ride.

Let’s begin!

GENO/INK FIGHT:

I’m putting this theory first because it is the least important. At some point in time, I somehow got it into my head that there is supposedly going to be a fight between Geno and Ink. I have no idea where I heard about this, and when I searched for any specific videos or posts about the subject, I found nothing. But I personally think a fight scene between Geno and Ink would be pretty cool, so I’m adding this in here.

FRESK!INK’S EXISTANCE:

This is a more relevant theory. Ever since Jakei announced that Fresh!Ink would be a part of Underverse, I have wondered how he would be incorporated. I don’t know if she means for him to be in the future “Beach Episode” or something more serious. (Of course, I know almost nothing about this supposed “Beach Episode”, which is apparently when Epic!Sans will be showing up, so I really wouldn’t know.) But there is an important thing to remember: Ink and Fresh made a deal in the first season.

Ever since I saw this Underverse - Xtra Scene 2, I have wondered what this “prize” could possibly be. What was Ink’s side of the deal? What did he promise Fresh? Hmm... maybe a new body to take over?

Ink’s body doesn’t have a SOUL- that’s basic “Undertale AU Knowledge 101″. What does this have to do in regards to Fresh? To my best knowledge, the actual parasitic creature True!Fresh feeds off the souls of other creatures to survive. In fact, his soul-feeding would kill his victims if he stayed long enough in one body, but he likes to play it safe and leave his victims alive in case he needs to use their body again. But he wouldn’t need to do this with Ink. Because of Ink’s SOULless nature, Fresh could theoretically feed off his body forever. Some might object that since Ink doesn’t have a SOUL, Fresh wouldn’t be able to feed off him. But then how does Fresh!Ink exist?

So, what was their deal? Fresh watches over the Xtale AU while Ink is gone, and after Cross and X!Chara are taken care of, Ink comes back and lets Fresh take over his body for a little while. There may be something else I’m missing, but the pieces seem to make sense.

XI’S PURPOSE:

For those of you who don’t know who XI is, I suggest you watch this video about Jakei’s Overwrite merch. This is when the character of XI was introduced to us, back on good ol’ April 1st, 2019. Haha, yes, the joke character of XI- funny April Fool’s Day video, a good laugh for everyone. Jakei has made a few comics about XI since then, but overall, XI hasn’t been involved in Xtale or Underverse so far. That has never sat right with me, and I’ve always thought there would be something more to him. I was proven absolutely correct when Xtale - The Movie came out. But before we discuss the little extra scene tagged onto the end of that video, I would like to point out some very interesting facts about XI.

On October 6th, 2019, Jakei posted a traditional speedart. Obviously, the art is gorgeous like always and every time I watch it I wonder if I will ever get to the level of skill she is at. But besides that, there is a very important aspect about this video. In the speedart, Jakei drew two pictures: one of X!Chara and X!Frisk fighting, and one of XI. In XI’s picture, they are depicted in full armor with a magical purple sword & shield.

Hmmm... I wonder who this could possible resemble?

Every time XI is shown, whether it be in comics or artwork, their bangs hang over their eyes. Their armor looks exactly like Kris’s from Deltarune. Heck, they both use a sword and a shield! What does this mean? XI is X!Kris. There is no way to deny this. This is why they are X!Chara’s and X!Frisk’s little sibling. I would also like to point out XI’s silver oval locket. I find it interesting how he has a different piece of jewelry from everyone else- all other important characters in Xtale have a matching golden heart locket. Does XI also have people he has given copies of this necklace to? Perhaps X!Susie and X!Ralsei, if they exist? But XI being X!Kris is only the beginning of this theory. Remember how I mentioned Xtale - The Movie earlier? Take a look at this picture.

This is a five-second frame pegged at the very end of the video, after an entry written in wingdings by Mister XGaster himself. The message is as follows:

Entry Number Eleven: As clear as a reflection in a mirror, I have found the most perfect projection of forbidden visions. Get ready. Your time is coming.

Okay, just whoa. Not only is the entry #11, but the person standing there is XI. Oh, and let’s take a closer look at what they’re holding in their hand.

I knew that silver locket was going to be important. There is no way that XI is not going to play a major part in either Underverse S2 or hmm... maybe a spin-off about the Xtale versions of Deltarune characters? To my knowledge, Jakei has not said anything about her plans after she finishes Underverse. She has her Metadora project, and I am aware that her husband @nyxtheshield is planning out his own Undertale series- someone will need to animate that, and I’m sure she would be able and willing to do the job. She has stated that there will be no seasons of Underverse after S2, and the finale will be 1.0. But that doesn’t mean she won’t make a new series. If she does, will it be about all the Deltarune characters? Will the other Xtale characters show up at certain points in it? Will XGaster play a large part in it? There is no way to know, as the idea of a new show is simply drawn from that there may not be enough time in S2 to fully expand what XI is.

In any case, XGaster states in the entry that “your time is coming”. This could either reference a new show or XI’s appearance in Underverse. I find it extremely interesting how XGaster words his message. “The most perfect projection of forbidden visions.” What does that mean exactly? XGaster has seen something in one of his many visions, obviously. The most perfect image of prohibited sights. XI is a person that stands for something that should not be allowed to exist. That makes sense- XGaster, a man, somehow got pregnant and birthed them, as shown in the Overwrite merch video. The “forbidden visions” might imply that he has seen something quite “cursed”, as us modern Internet-users would say. But then he tells this projection to get ready, because their time is coming. XGaster is telling XI to prepare themself. This just proves that XI and XGaster are tied together very closely, and that if XI does get their own series with X!Ralsei and X!Susie, XGaster will be involved.

Whew! That’s a lot of information to take in all at once. This was the big “theory” I wanted to discuss, so now we will move on to the different fates I believe may befall some of our beloved characters.

INK, FOR GOOD OR FOR WORSE?:

Ah, Ink. One of the true protagonists of Underverse. Remember: a protagonist is not necessarily a hero, just one of the leading characters. It has been seen that his story arc is the most important throughout the entire story. He is the one that inspired XGaster. He is the one that made XGaster’s plan succeed. And he very well might be the one to make it fail.

Wait, you’re asking me. I thought he was on XGaster’s side? What do you mean he will make it fail?

I didn’t want to address whether Ink was going to stick with XGaster or flip until a certain song was posted by Nyx two days ago on December 5th, “Soulless Heart”. If you haven’t listened to it yet, go ahead and click that link because the song is beautiful and absolutely necessary to continue on with this theory! The song is the Underverse 0.5 Ending Theme, and guess who it’s about? You guessed it, our good old buddy chum pal Ink. I’ve been listening to it on repeat since it came out, and it really is incredible. (Nyx, if you’re somehow reading this, I would like to personally congratulate you, because not only is the music amazing but mwah! Your voice is a joy, and I would not have any other singer do the vocals.) But the most important thing about the song is the lyrics. Here’s the first verse.

How long have I been longing

to be free and not broken

in this ocean of hollowness?

I don’t want to be forgotten.

Instantly, the lyrics hit you hard. This is about Ink, though, so you can’t expect anything less. Essentially, the song is about the emptiness that Ink feels without a SOUL. This goes along with one of his main aspects in Underverse. The only reason why he worked with XGaster to make sure XGaster’s game worked was so he could feel more emotions. As a chaotic neutral character, Ink literally only cares about himself and his personal goals. But what is interesting about this song is that he addresses the pain he has caused.

Sacrificial lambs

laid upon my path

now are broken worlds

killed by senseless wrath.

Ink knows that he has hurt people. I mean, in the present timeline when 0.5 is to be set, Ink’s actions just caused Error to literally “pull the plug” and destroy all the AUs. (Although, how many AUs were actually destroyed is impossible to determine, because there are still multiple Sanses that will be incorporated into S2 that were residing in their AUs at the time of their supposed destruction.) Ink knows that this is his fault. And now that XGaster has won, Ink will be receiving all those emotions he wanted! In the S2 teaser, which was released on the original Underverse 0.5 release date (the episode was unfortunately delayed due to issues with Nyx’s distributor, RouteNote), shows something very important.

Look at those vials in his hand. Those aren’t just colored vials. Well, they are, but their colors are especially important. Look at their specific colors: orange, yellow, and amber. Previously, Ink’s vials have been seen as very straightforward: roy g biv, that sort of thing.

You have one or maybe two variations, although in this picture there seems to be about four different aqua vials. But there certainly isn’t an amber vial. This goes to show that XGaster followed through on his promise, and Ink has a lot more variations in his color-coded emotion vials. The obvious conclusion from this is that he can feel a lot more things than he thought was possible- including guilt. With his newfound feelings, he could realize that what he did wasn’t just wrong, it was horrible. He might start to blame himself for getting all the AUs destroyed, which in turn might result in a betrayal of XGaster. With his emotions, he would become a real good person. But ultimately, without XGaster’s Overwrite abilities, Ink’s new emotions will fade and he will return to be the same old Ink as before. He will no longer understand why he sacrificed his emotions, and the cycle will start anew. Ink will never be truly happy, because being happy will always mean the suffering of others.

Or, Ink will stick with XGaster. It would be the same fate, after all; if the heroes defeat XGaster, Ink will still lose those emotions. This, though, might leave him feeling bitter and even more willing to do anything to get what he wants, which could potentially lead to him becoming a real villain. Perhaps XGaster isn’t the final boss of Underverse. Maybe the one to start everything will be the one to finish everything.

XGASTER AND UT!GASTER:

This wouldn’t be a real theory post without discussing our favorite fanfiction writer, would it? And yes, XGaster is literally a fanfiction writer. He has symptoms of OCD concerning the world-building of his universe and he just loves to add as much angst as humanly (or monsterly) possible. It just so happens that he lives in his own created universe, so his creations have the pleasurable chance at getting revenge.

Now, there are obviously two ways that Underverse can go: XGaster succeeds, or XGaster fails. This doesn’t necessarily mean that this will be the ending of S2. As I mentioned above, perhaps XGaster will be defeated at the end of 0.9 and 1.0 will be about everyone trying to stop Ink from taking the Overwrite SOUL for his own, I don’t know. In any case, I don’t really have anything to discuss about XGaster specifically, but I am pretty sure I know what his last scene will be if he happens to lose.

It is shown in the Underverse S2 Prologue - Owners that XGaster and UT!Gaster spent a lot of time together in the Void between the events of Xtale and Underverse. Not only do they hold an entire conversation together in Owners, but in Underverse 0.1 when Sans is hit in the head with a ball, he has a vision of the two of them standing together.

In XGaster’s and UT!Gaster’s conversation in Owners, UT!Gaster tells XGaster that he will fail in his quest for perfection. XGaster brushes him off because he’s an egotistical prick, yadda yadda. But this conversation is important because I believe it will parallel the ending of XGaster’s quest. In the end, UT!Gaster will approach his old Void-buddy and tell him to just give up on his pointless venture. XGaster will turn to dust after saying something like, “I will never give up”, and then we have Ink going on a rampage. That’s pretty much all I have to say on them, but I thought it would be worth adding.

DREAM AND NIGHTMARE:

Lastly, we have the brothers. As with XGaster and UT!Gaster, I don’t have much to add with them. But I do believe they will both play a major role in S2. They will be the overseers of the battle to come. Out of all the characters in the Undertale fandom, they are the most omnipotent. They are the protectors of the Tree of Feelings, which is one of three trees to give the Multiverse life. In Underverse 0.4, when X!Chara accused Nightmare of “watching us all this time as if we were part of a show”, Nightmare responded by saying:

Of course, Nightmare mostly means himself, Error, and Ink. Dream is much more active in helping people be happy, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t on the same god-tier level as his brother. Dream could sit back and watch the world tick, but he chooses not to because that goes against his morals.

In other words, Dream and Nightmare will probably affect the outcome of Underverse more than any other characters. They’re both pissed about what Error did: all those people that Dream cared about were murdered, and Nightmare can no longer generate negative feelings from innocents. They both have invested interest in this Multiverse war now, and their powers will certainly come to the forefront.

I believe that at the end of the story, the Multiverse will essentially go back to the exact way it was before Xtale was invented. XGaster will be dead, the Xtale characters will be put back in their AU, the other AUs will be restored, and at the end of it all, Dream and Nightmare will be once again pitted against one another. We may even see an alliance between them during Underverse S2 to stop XGaster, but afterwards, they will reestablish their rivalry. Unless the Omega Timeline comes into play, which it very well might, I don’t see the two brothers reconciling.

CONCLUSION:

Thank you everyone who took the agonizingly long time to read this! I hope this shed some light on certain characters (especially XI) and encourages to make some of your own theories. Stay safe and good night!

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