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dindjarindiaries · 2 years ago

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Security - Chapter 53: The Burden

summary: The venture to Nevarro leaves the Djarin clan with more than they originally bargained for, and a trip to an old ally quickly turns sour.

warnings: canon-typical violence, references to trauma, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

word count: 5.192k

rating: T

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chapter 53: the burden

Waking up the next morning is almost cruel for you. It’s the first time you’ve gotten to peacefully awaken in your husband’s arms for much too long, thanks to the miraculous lengthy slumber of their two children. Din rouses at the same time you do and kisses you enough to make up for whatever time you’ll lose on the journey ahead. You manage to drag yourselves out of bed and prepare yourselves as well as their children for the day’s adventures.

Greef is already in his office with IG-11’s parts when the Djarin family stops by. Din pushes the hovercart while Grogu sits atop it and lets the empty pram float by his side. You and Zora trail behind the magistrate and his old friend, the youngest Djarin babbling as she plays with your tunic.

“Say ‘Papa,’” you encourage her in a soft voice. Zora coos and smiles just at the sound of her father’s title. You take one of her tiny hands and wave it at Din’s back. “‘Hi, Papa!’”

Zora giggles and waves on her own. “Baba!”

Din turns his helmet over his shoulder for a moment to face her. “Hi, Zozo,” he responds with warmth and a smile you can hear. He lifts a gloved hand to pat her head before he faces the way ahead again.

“Now, say ‘Mama,’” you continue. She points to herself. “‘Hi, Mama!’”

Zora makes a long mmm sound with a focused knit in her brow. You laugh and kiss her forehead.

“So close, Zo.” You point at Grogu. “Say hi to your brother. ‘Hi, Grogu!’”

Zora exhales a few sharp, excited breaths and claps her hands together. “Go!”

You grin at your daughter. “That’s it, Zo! ‘Grogu!’”

“Go!” Zora cheers. Din steals another look at you, his helmet tilting in admiration of the adorable sound. “Go!”

Grogu’s ears lift on his head as he lets out a long coo of understanding. Din pats his head while your smile only grows wider. There’s not a single thing you wouldn’t do for this precious family of yours.

“You’ve got quite the family here, Mando,” Greef says with hardly disguised warmth. “That’s why this is too big a job for you to do by yourself.” He gestures to the parts of IG-11. “Fortunately, Nevarro has attracted the best droidsmiths of the Outer Rim.” Greef stops and nods at the wall to your left. “They’ll have IG back to his old self in no time.”

Din shifts his weight. “Are you sure they’re up for it?” He lifts a hand towards IG’s parts. “I don’t think I can handle him with all his limbs if things go scud.”

You smile; his censorship. It’s something he’s been working on around the kids, one of the smaller yet noticeable things you can observe about his sweet parenting. Meanwhile, Greef points at the wall again. “Why don’t you ask ‘em for yourself?”

Din’s visor faces Greef. “Who?”

Greef extends a hand towards the ground. “The Anzellans.”

You and Din both look down to see a nine-inch Anzellan waiting outside a small doorway. He looks up at Din and tilts his head. “What do ya’ want?” the Anzellan asks in his high-pitched voice.

Grogu widens his eyes and coos in curiosity with a hand extended. Zora’s still too caught up in your tunic and her babbling of Baba, Mmm, Go! to properly observe the Anzellan. Din takes a step back, and you have to hold back a laugh at his utter shock. “I, um… my droid.” Din gestures to IG-11’s parts. “I need help rewiring him.”

The Anzellan glances back and speaks a few words in his own language. He faces Din again and nods. “Can fix.” He points inside the small workspace. “Come. Come.”

Din looks between the Anzellan and Greef a few times before he points to himself. “Me?”

Greef laughs. “Yes! Their work will be quick.”

Din tilts his helmet and glances at the small doorway again. “I can’t fit in there.”

“You can.” Greef turns his head to look at you. “But I don’t think your whole family will.”

Din’s visor meets your gaze, and you speak before he can. “It’s okay,” you assure him. “You and Grogu head inside. Zora and I will explore the bazaar.” You gesture with your head to the marketplace that’s further down the street.

Din tenses, though his gloved fingers flutter at his sides. He takes a step closer to you. “Are you sure?” When you nod, Din releases a gentle sigh and rests his helmet against your forehead. “I won’t be long.”

“And we won’t be far.” You offer him a reassuring smile. “Good luck with IG.”

Din lowers his voice for privacy and gives one of your hands a squeeze. “I love you.”

Your grin widens. “I love you, too.”

Din takes one of Zora’s tiny hands next and gives it a squeeze. “And you too, Zozo.”

Zora smiles and claps her hands together. “Baba!”

Din swings his helmet away from her in pure and utter adoration. He gives her tiny hand one more squeeze before he and Grogu make their way closer to the Anzellans’ workshop. You chuckle to yourself at the way Din and Grogu have to crawl inside, the former barely fitting given all his layers of armor. It’s only once they’ve disappeared inside that you and Zora make your way towards the bazaar.

“All right, angel,” you say to your daughter, smiling at the curious coo you earn in response. “Let’s find a gift for Papa and Grogu.”

Zora squeals with delight and claps her hands together once again. You smile and give her cheek a kiss.

“I’m excited, too!” You glance around once you reach the heart of the bazaar. Stalls with all kinds of products line the street, from exotic fruits to handmade jewelry. The way this marketplace flourishes reminds you of your home planet long ago, during its own golden age. You hold Zora closer. “Where do you think we should start, Zo?”

Zora furrows her brow, her brown eyes observing your surroundings just as her father’s would. You’re patient as you wait for the telltale point of your daughter’s small finger towards one of the booths. You turn and see that she’s chosen one of the exotic fruit stands, which comes as no surprise given your son’s love for food.

“Good choice.” You approach the booth and greet the Rodian merchant. “We’d like to try one of your fruits, please.”

The Rodian spreads his hands. “Of course! I’ve got quite a few here.”

You and Zora share a look. “What do you recommend?”

“Well,” the Rodian begins, reaching somewhere inside his stand, “this dessert made from the jogan fruit always comes highly praised.” He reveals a dessert that’s encased in a cold container. The Rodian opens it and shows off the delicate dollop of purple creamy fruit. Zora releases a loud coo of delight.

“Can we try it?” You reach for the credits tucked in a pouch on your belt.

The Rodian pushes the dessert and a utensil forward. “Be my guest!”

You set your necessary pile of credits down and pick up the utensil. You offer a small scoop to Zora, who samples the dessert with a gleeful coo of approval. You try some for yourself and share your daughter’s enthusiastic reaction. The taste is sweet yet tangy, offering a perfect punch of what anyone could want from a fruit-flavored treat. “I see why it’s so highly praised,” you tell the Rodian. You let Zora finish the dessert. “Can we take two to go?”

The Rodian agrees and begins packing your order. You turn to Zora and laugh as you wipe some of the purple-colored fruit remnants away from around her mouth.

“What do you think, Zo? Will Papa and Grogu approve?”

Zora taps the corners of your mouth as they remain curled up in a smile. “Baba!”

“Yeah,” you agree as you set down more credits, “I think it’ll make him smile, too.”

You finish with your order and move on, the small pouch now hanging from your belt. You explore more of the bazaar despite your small mission already being complete. You even manage to find some fish cracker snacks for Zora and Grogu, building up the future supply that you’ll no doubt need for your hungry children. The last thing you grab is some medical supplies you can fit in the extra spaces on your belt, an emergency kit you've been meaning to create as you begin your journey.

You and Zora return to the Anzellan workshop and find just what you should’ve expected: chaos. Greef’s kneeling down on the ground and speaking through the tiny Anzellan door, and you can already hear the familiar tone of Din’s voice as he responds to him. The closer you get, the more you can hear them.

“... You should get a new one,” Greef’s in the middle of saying.

You lift your brow as you and Zora approach. “What’s going on?”

Greef looks up at you and stands to his feet with a huff of effort. “The Anzellans are saying IG’s not fixable,” he explains.

You twist your lips. You look at the Anzellans’ door. “He must not be happy about that.”

Greef shrugs. “It seems like he’s working it out with them right now.” He lifts a finger at you. “If you’ll give me a moment.” You nod and watch as he kneels down again. Greef listens for a moment before he speaks to Din again. “If you can get a new part, he says he can fix it.”

You wait for Din’s response, but all you hear is the sound of an Anzellan screeching. “No, Grogu,” comes Din’s scolding voice. You and Zora share a look before you kneel down at Greef’s side. Inside the workshop, Din looks like a giant reaching towards your son, who grips onto an Anzellan for dear life. “He’s not a pet.”

“No squeezie!” the Anzellan protests. “No squeeze! No squeeze.” Din separates the Anzellan from Grogu, and the tiny mechanic fixes his goggles. “Bad baby! Oh, he’s a bad baby.”

You suppress a laugh with one hand at the scene. “Sorry about that,” Din apologizes. “He’s young.”

“Yeah, bad baby,” the Anzellan continues to rant. Grogu looks at the Anzellan, and you already know what he’s going to do before he lunges for the mechanic once again. “Oh!”

Din sighs and reaches forward. “No, Grogu.”

“Come here, Grogu!” You try to draw your son to you. “Your sister and I got you something!”

Grogu’s attention is successfully stolen from the Anzellan at the sound of your voice. He waddles to the doorway and greets you and Zora with a gleeful coo. Zora offers the same as she extends her tiny arms towards him. “Go!” she cheers.

Grogu’s ears rise as high as they can on his head as he hugs her just like he’d hugged the Anzellan. You grin and support Zora with one hand as you run along Grogu’s ear with the other. “You and your father have special treats awaiting you,” you tell him. “But you’ve got to be on your best behavior. Okay?”

Grogu pulls away from the embrace with his sister and coos in understanding. His ears fall a bit, and you pat his head.

“It’s okay. Just make sure you’re listening to your father and I.”

Grogu nods and lets his ears rise higher again. You look beyond Grogu to see Din crawling his way out of the small workspace. He grunts as he heaves himself back to his feet, and you do the same, earning a protest from Zora as she’s separated from her brother. You set her back in the pram and do the same with Grogu, keeping them occupied while you approach Din.

“So,” you begin, relieved by the presence of your husband even after such a brief separation, “what did I miss?”

“They’ll fix IG,” Din answers. “We just need to get them a new memory circuit.” Before you can question him, Din goes on. “I’m sure Peli’s Jawa friends can help us with that.”

You nod. “That’s true, and I’m sure the ship could use some touch-ups before we set out to Mandalore.”

Din sets a hand on your back. “That’s exactly what I was thinking.” His visor falls to the pouch on your belt. “Now, what’s this about ‘special treats?’”

You grin at him. “You’ll see.” You point at the Anzellans’ workshop. “I think we have some business to attend to first.”

Din circles his hand on your back and nods. “Way to keep us on track, rid’ika.” He looks over at Greef. “We’d best be heading out now.”

Greef gestures to the way ahead. “Please, let me escort you.”

The magistrate leads the way for the Djarin family through the busy streets of Nevarro. A bittersweet feeling rushes over you as you look around and prepare to leave it all behind. It’s not much different than the feeling Sorgan gave you so long ago when you and Din first had to leave. The promise of a home is left here, and as hard as it is for you to move on from it, supporting Din and his redemption is your priority. Nothing is more important to you than the happiness and health of your family, the home you get to take with you all over the galaxy.

Din invites you even closer to his side, as if he’s read your thoughts. His gloved hand laces through yours as he looks over at you. “I’m sorry we have to leave,” he utters his genuine apology.

“No more apologies,” you remark, giving his hand a squeeze. “I’m the one who insisted upon going on this journey with you. No place is a home for me without you.” You lift your entwined hands to your lips and kiss his leather knuckles. “Your redemption is our priority. Our home will come in time.”

Din tilts his helmet, his armored chest rising and falling in a deep breath as he swings his helmet away from you. “If it was the Crest we were headed back to… I’d properly thank you for that.”

You laugh and rest your head against his arm. “I understand.” You lower your voice to keep your conversation even more private. “But last night was enough for me to know.”

Din’s visor snaps your way again. “It wasn’t nearly enough, cyar’ika.” He lifts his free hand to hold your chin. “Until I get the opportunity to love you the way you deserve each and every day, it’ll never be enough.”

You beam and turn your face away from him in shyness. “You love me in many different ways, riduur.”

“I do whatever I can.” Din swings your arms back and forth in a subtle motion. “But you deserve the best.”

You’re not given the opportunity to respond as you make it back to the starfighter. Greef watches as the Djarin family steps inside, Din taking Grogu and you holding on to Zora. The youngest Djarin is sound asleep thanks to the comforts of her jogan treat. You cradle her close and watch as Din checks in on everyone before he gets himself settled with Grogu.

Greef nods and looks between you and Din. “We hope to see you soon,” he says to you.

Din returns the gesture. “Keep IG-11 safe until we get back with that part.”

Greef takes a quick glance over his shoulder and offers a hopeful smile. “If the Anzellans can’t find it, I don’t know who can.” The two friends nod at each other once more. “Safe travels.”

Grogu waves at Greef as he backs away from the ship. You chuckle to yourself while Din powers up the ship. In just a few moments, you’re headed away from Nevarro, returning to the endless sea of stars. You take a deep breath and plant a kiss in Zora’s curly hair. You’d follow your husband all over the galaxy, but that never makes your return to the stars any easier.

Din’s voice startles you when it comes through the intercom. “Before we head to Peli’s, I’d like to check in with Bo-Katan,” Din informs you. “We can tell her of our plans.”

You swallow your nerves and respond. “Sure, Din. Whatever you think is best.”

“It’ll be quick.” Din pauses, and you can hear Grogu’s curious coos. Your chest flames with warmth when Din begins to speak to him. “All right, buddy, listen carefully. Being a Mandalorian’s not just learning about how to fight. You also have to know how to navigate the galaxy, because you never know where you might be headed next.”

You strain yourself somewhat to see past Din’s helmet. Your lips widen in a smile when you see Din pointing out his console stations.

“This here is your hyperspace map.” Grogu releases a long coo. “You determine your range by looking at your fuel gauge. And this…”

Din gets cut off by a rapid beeping tone. Grogu whimpers with worry, and you have to keep yourself from doing the same.

“... Is your enemy proximity warning indicator.” Din glances over his shoulder to locate the threat. Your gaze follows his, a concerned knot securing itself inside your stomach. “Hang on, kid. We got pirates.” Din takes another look back at you. “You too, rid’ika.”

“I’ll try my best,” you assure him. You clutch Zora tight enough to make the sleeping child huff with a surprised breath.

A familiar voice announces itself over the intercoms. “Avast, Mandalorian,” the pirate Vane says. Your blood runs cold in your veins. They waited this long for us? “You can’t just sneak away after cuttin’ down four of my brothers in cold blood.”

You knead your fingers against Zora in gentle yet anxious motions. You wonder if Vane’s even aware of your and Zora’s presence.

“We’re Pirate King Gorian Shard’s men,” Vane continues, “now you’ll answer to him.”

Din’s quick with his witty response. “Gorian Shard should stick to hijacking and ransoming.”

You can see Grogu nestle himself underneath Din’s bandolier, and just a moment later, Din’s pushing the starfighter forward. Zora stirs on your shoulder at the motion, even trying to lift her head. You set a hand upon it and urge it back down. “It’s all right, Zo,” you assure her, despite the way your ship begins to spin over and over again to avoid getting shot down. “Papa’s got it.”

Zora wriggles in your grasp, either curious or concerned about what’s going on. “Baba!” she exclaims, her voice muffled.

Din can still hear it. “I’m here, Zozo!” he reassures her through the intercom. More beeping from the console cuts off anything else he was going to say to his daughter. “Three more.”

You close your eyes and heave a deep breath. A dogfight wasn’t the ideal way you saw this journey beginning. Zora fusses, and you put all your focus into keeping yourself calm. Din’s always composed in these situations; the unease Zora senses can only be coming from her mother. You reopen your eyes, and upon seeing Din weaving you through an asteroid field, you hide your face in your daughter’s head.

You’re surprised to find that as the dogfight goes on, Zora’s worried coos turn to soft laughter, just like her brother’s that make their way through the intercom. You can’t help chuckling and shaking your head. Only your and Din’s children would find this kind of dangerous chaos amusing.

Bright flashes of explosions outside the viewport draw your attention back to the fight. Din’s taking out their fighters easily, which brings a victorious smile to your lips. Despite your worries, you truly never doubted your husband’s piloting abilities. He’s the best you’ve ever flown with, and when it comes to his family’s safety, he doesn’t mess around.

Soon, only Vane’s fighter is left. Din pursues him with no mercy, weaving through each obstacle with ease. You hold your breath as you wait for Din to take the final shot that will end this crisis, but when Din pilots the starfighter around one of the larger asteroids in his pursuit, all you can see is a ship that’s much too large to avoid. The alarm beeps, and you keep Zora close, your eyes widening when you see guns from all over the ship engage.

“Dank farrik,” Din curses with a sigh. “They have a target lock on us.”

“Din…” you warn. Zora whines from her place against your shoulder.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got this.” Din takes a calculated breath. “Just… hang on to something.”

You do as he says while a new voice comes over the comms. “Stop where you are, Mandalorian. You’re outgunned.”

Din responds with his signature amount of composure. “I have no quarrel with you, Gorian Shard.”

“Ha! What a kind sentiment from a man who just destroyed four of my fighters.”

You bite your tongue to keep yourself from responding to the pirate. Din also says nothing, letting the Pirate King continue.

“Surrender your ship and I will spare your life.”

Din looks down at Grogu and glances over his shoulder at Zora. “Kids?” Both Grogu and Zora coo at their father. You raise a curious eyebrow. “Never trust a pirate.”

With that, Din activates the starfighter’s sublight thrusters. You close your eyes and resist the urge to exclaim a curse aloud as both Grogu and Zora giggle their way over Gorian Shard’s ship. Din gets you into hyperspace just moments later, and as soon as the piloting’s out of his control, he nearly turns his whole body around to look at you and Zora.

“Are you two okay?” Din’s tone is laced with the concern he can reveal now that it’s safe for him to do so.

“We’re fine,” you assure him with a smile. You let Zora sit up from your shoulder, and your daughter coos and presses her hands against the transparisteel that separates you.

“Baba!” Zora cheers as she bounces herself with excitement on your lap.

“Zozo!” Din exclaims back at her.

“Baba, Baba, Baba!” Zora presses even more against the transparisteel as she starts to realize she can’t get through. Her exclamations of joy quickly turn to cries as she tries to get to her father. “Baba…”

“Oh, baby girl, I know.” Din faces forward and checks the console. “We’ll be out of hyperspace and on planet in just a few minutes, okay?”

Zora looks at you with a wobbling lip. “Mmma,” she whimpers. She points at the transparisteel. “Baba… Go…”

The warmth that floods your chest is incomparable as you give your daughter an encouraging smile. “We’ll be reunited with them in just a few minutes, angel.”

Zora continues to pout but ultimately lets herself fall back into your arms. The starfighter jumps out of hyperspace moments later, revealing a planet of swirling blues and greens. “This is Kalevala,” Din announces, likely to a curious Grogu. “It’s another planet in the Mandalorian system.” Rain starts to hit the transparisteel as you continue your descent. You can see the structure you’re approaching just as Din mentions it. “And that is a Mandalorian castle.”

Your lips spread in a bittersweet smile. You’ve heard of the planet before, back when you were a child. Your parents had visited on diplomatic business, though you had still been too young to attend with them. The castle is somewhat reminiscent of the many you visited with your parents once you were older. You can only hope that whoever dwells within it will maintain their sense of diplomacy.

Din lands the starfighter and opens his canopy without a moment to waste. Grogu gets the pram ready while Din helps you and Zora out of the ship. He keeps Zora tucked in his arm and shields you from the rain as best he can with his cape. You stay close by his side as your family makes its way past the service droid and up towards the castle. You force yourself to take a deep breath, though the thoughts of an unwanted duel plague your mind and heart.

The Djarin family comes upon a long corridor that leads to an occupied throne. You move even closer to Din’s side, and he accepts you there, brushing a hand over your back for comfort. His hand returns to his side once you get closer, your footsteps being the only noise heard until Din finally announces your arrival.

“Bo-Katan,” Din calls for her. “It is Din and Astra Djarin.”

Bo-Katan looks at you, unimpressed from where she sits—no, lies—upon her throne. You swallow hard and raise her chin as you and Din stop in front of her.

“We are here to join you,” Din finishes.

Bo-Katan doesn’t move as she takes a long pause. “There’s nothing left to join.”

You and Din share a confused look. “What of your plans to retake Mandalore?” he asks her.

Bo-Katan raises her brow. “When I returned without the Darksaber, my forces melted away.” You tighten your hands into fists at her mention of the weapon that hangs from Din’s belt.

“Where is the stolen fleet?”

“Making their way through the galaxy as mercenaries.” Bo-Katan gives Din a quick once-over. You circle your jaw. “Do you still have the saber?”

Din looks down for a moment. “I do.” His visor returns to Bo-Katan.

“Then you lead them. Wave that thing around and they’ll do whatever you say.”

“You would know,” you mutter to yourself.

Din moves closer to your side, a gentle warning. He keeps his attention on Bo-Katan. “So you gave up your designs to retake Mandalore?”

Bo-Katan waits a beat before answering. Her words bring an anger like fire to your veins. “Your cult gave up on Mandalore long before the Purge. Where were you then?”

Din’s visor starts to fall as your vision becomes a red haze.

“The Children of the Watch and all the factions that came before fractured and shattered our people.” Bo-Katan pauses and looks between both you and Din. “Go home.”

“We don’t have a home to go to,” you speak up before you can stop yourself. Your tone is as fiery as the rage you're fighting to suppress. “Much like you, we’ve both lost our homes. He’s lost his not once, but twice. We know well what this loss feels like.” You gesture to where Bo-Katan continues to remain laid out on her throne. “But we didn’t sit around, wait for people to feel sorry for us, and blame others even when plans changed. We decided to move on and do something.”

Bo-Katan remains unfazed. She sits in the silence and gives her head a small shake. “It’s pointless. There’s nothing left.”

Din speaks before you have the chance to. “We’re going to Mandalore,” he insists, “so that I may bathe in the Living Waters and be forgiven for my transgressions.”

Your jaw tightens when Bo-Katan suppresses the urge to laugh at him. “You are a fool. There’s nothing magic about the mines of Mandalore. They supplied beskar ore to our ancestors and the rest is superstition.”

“Have you ever considered that there may be beliefs other than your own?” you snap, unable to help yourself any longer, “Just because they aren’t yours doesn’t mean they’re not correct.”

Bo-Katan doesn’t miss a beat with her response. “Have you ever considered that the man you’re defending left you, his wife, stranded alone on a boat over these same beliefs?”

You make a move towards Bo-Katan, but the quick grasp Din takes on your arm stops you. You look at your husband with poorly concealed fury. Zora whimpers from her place against Din’s armored shoulder as he tilts his helmet at you. “Don’t defend that action of mine,” he murmurs. “She’s right.” Din turns his visor towards Bo-Katan. “I should be speaking for myself.”

You force yourself to take a deep breath for composure while Bo-Katan continues. “Like I said before, there’s nothing left on Mandalore. That planet has been ravaged, plundered, and poisoned.”

“You said that the curse was a lie,” Din reminds her. “Make up your mind.”

Bo-Katan takes a breath. “If you want to go into the mines, be my guest. They’re beneath the civic center in the city of Sundari.”

Din nods at her. “Thank you.” He looks at you and nods. “And we will find out if the planet is really poisoned.”

With that, Din turns to walk away from the throne. You follow, though you don't start to relax until Din sets a hand upon your back and keeps it there. Bo-Katan says one last thing in a tone that makes you fight the urge to turn back around. “Goodbye, Din and Astra Djarin.”

Silence sits between you and Din until you’ve made your way back to the starfighter. You pause at the bottom of the stairs and face each other. You sigh and hold your arms, a strong wave of shame overcoming you. “I’m sorry,” you apologize to Din as you avoid his visor. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I just…” You huff and hold your arms tighter. “I know how much your Creed means to you, and to hear her say those things is just… it’s not okay.”

Din sets Zora beside Grogu in the pram and holds your face between his gloved hands. You meet his visor, and the look alone brings you an overwhelming warmth of comfort. After a long pause, Din speaks in a soft and genuine voice that crackles through his modulator. “Thank you.” He pulls you into an embrace, tucking your head under the lip of his helmet as you hold tight to his middle. “You said all the things I wasn’t brave enough to.” He sighs and buries his helmet more into you. “Thank you for the way you love me and my Creed.” You can hear Din’s hard swallow. “Even after what I did to you.”

You pull away from the embrace to hold his helmet between your hands. “I understand, Din. We talked through it long ago. You don’t have to carry that burden any longer.” You press his helmet to your forehead. “I promise.” You kiss his visor. “No matter what anyone says, it’s you and me against the galaxy.”

Din holds your face in return. “I agree.” He lets himself release a soft chuckle. “But let’s just start with Mandalore.”

You laugh with him. “Sounds good to me.”

With that, the Djarin family prepares for one more stop on your journey to Mandalore. As the starfighter takes off, you pray to the stars that the hardest part of your adventure is past you, though you know it’s a naive hope to have going to a planet that very well may have nothing but disappointment and danger to offer you.

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#we're about to get into chapter 18 content and you all know what that means...#din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #security #dindjarindiaries #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you

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spaceumbredoggos · 9 months ago

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Headcanons on Kenz and Ford’s relationship.

Ford secretly always wanted a kid. Whilst his niblings come close, they were never really his and he always had to share them with Stan. Then Kenz came along and Ford willingly put himself in a parental position despite Kenz being almost nineteen. This is because he sees a lot of himself in Kenz and knows that Kenz could fall down even darker paths than he did (also Kenz being related to an old Pines family friend, one that Stan trusted so fondly and kept in touch with even during Ford’s portal years certainly helps.)

Ford is really pissed off at Kenz’s father for basically almost living through them. He’s even madder at Kenz’s grandfather for living through his son and starting the cycle of generational trauma. Also, Kenz’s father and grandfather are really far right, and feud with a lot of Ford’s ideals.

The thing that pisses off Ford the most is that Kenz’s father tried to mask their autistic traits and tried to force them to fit a mold unfit for them. Ford wishes he got in touch with Kenz sooner and wishes that he could have stopped Jacob’s abusive tendencies. He’s really pissed that Kenz never really had a genuine high school and college experience and probably never will due to their trauma at the hands of the American education system.

Kenz initially saw themself as the role of Ford’s apprentice and nothing more. That being said, when they were forced to move in with Ford, they were pretty angry and thought this was another case of their father’s network of friends trying to control their life. If it weren’t for Bill, Kenz might have actually had a healthy chance at healing from their generational trauma without Ford’s health. Kenz secretly blames Ford for his past relationship with Bill at first, and puts up such a standoffish front of anger as an effort to push others away. Ford is never hurt by Kenz’s actions and they only bring him closer.

A lot of Kenz’s early relationship with Ford was a lot like Loona and Blitzø. Kenz thinks that they don’t need a fatherly or parental figure and would want to do everything on their own. However, they can’t do everything because they struggle a lot with executive functioning and a lot of AuDHD related issues. They can take care of themself to an extent, but get frustrated when they can’t do something. They freeze and don’t ask for help, and due to past abuse, they fawn a lot.

A lot of Kenz’s rage is masked. Kenz doesn’t physically act out. Even their verbal meltdowns are usually not insulting and are angrily stating very true facts. They get a lot of flashbacks triggered by Ford’s blue eyes, something that their father characteristically had.

Kenz initially didn’t want anything to do with anyone touching them, despite the fact that they’re very much touch starved and one of their platonic languages is being touched. They love cuddling platonically and they love hugs (as long as those hugs aren’t too tight.) They don’t let just anyone pet their head, but if they admire someone platonically enough (or sexually, as in the case with Loona and Bee (I am pretty sure they’re Aromantic Pansexual.)) they allow and even enjoy the head pats.

Once Kenz finally got around to trusting Ford, they spend a lot of their time with him. They don’t really have a crush on him, but they have a really bad squish (platonic crush). Not obsessive, but almost a case of hero worship.

#gravity falls #self insert #ford pines #so much for stardust

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dbphantom · 3 years ago

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Love how nonchalant Rex is about the whole thing

Like clearly normal people in this universe don't experience monster (level?) EVOs on a regular basis, probably just on the news and stuff. Which is still scary, but you kinda compartmentalize that and don't expect it to happen in Your Daily Life

Meanwhile Rex is over here like "Huh. Would you look at that: it's butt-kicking o'clock again"

#There are other examples of this in other comic issues but like. This poor kid.#Really was highlighted here #Or like when he goes to the movies and meets a girl and an EVO attacks #And he's like 'wow this is a cool movie' while everyone is screaming and running #Which is also hysterical and deeply concerning #Noah's just like 'NOT PART OF THE MOVIE DUDE' and rex is all 'uuuugh fine'#Also I just like his outfit in this comic #Not to parrot a friend of mine BUT I WANT HIS JACKET #Generator Rex #Cruddy rambles #[pats Rex on the head] this bad boy can fit so much trauma in him #I just love the world building in the comics #A lot of shorts that wouldn't work as episodes but add stuff to ur understanding of the world ppl live in #Like normal people outside Providence don't immediately think EVO they think SEA MONSTER #And I think that's awesome #Rex is channeling his inner six in this segment

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mandoinevarro · 4 years ago

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NO APPOINTMENT, NO MEETING

Rule Maker, Rule Breaker: Chapter 4

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Words: 9.4k

Rating: E

Warnings: so ok descriptions of blood (it’s only one sentence and I don’t think it’s too bad but just in case), remembering trauma/triggering memories, angst. now for the fun part: SMUT, one (1) thigh spank, a sprinkle of dirty talk, a dash of praise kink, spitting, oral (f receiving), vaginal sex, maybe cockwarming but for like two minutes

a/n: happy 2021!!! only one chapter left after this one so enjoy. for the hornies who only want fun and sexy times: scroll to the bottom and work your way up, smut is like 3/4 in.

……………

In the blue morning light, Nevarro is almost beautiful.

The deserted lava fields spread in flat terrain as far as the eye can see, bumps and dips where magma cooled creating waves like a black ocean. Among the tide, obsidian turtle shells shimmer like dark mirrors, where Din Djarin studies his face. It startled him when he crawled from the tent to take the pram inside; when he glanced at the ground and the ground glanced back. His face cloudy and warped by irregular volcanic rock, he barely recognized it. It’s not rare for his features to blur in his memory sometimes, especially when he’s out working for days at a time unable to catch a glimpse of himself. Vanity is not one of his many shortcomings—hiding your face for decades is a mighty vaccine against it.

But today something’s different. The reflection peering up at him belongs to a stranger. Relaxed eyebrows, a hooked nose (has the curved always been so pronounced?), lips that faintly curl up. Content brown eyes. His mirrored counterpart is a sentient being below him, plump with blood and oxygen. Alive.

He looks happy.

However, morning weighs heavily on Din, he can see it in the bags below his eyes. It stings like a hangover, like the only hangover he ever had, back when he was an eighteen-year-old idiot and used the credits of his first bounty to get a flask of spotchka from some seedy bar. He remembers sitting in his crammed quarters at the old Covert, chugging the bottle on his own, methodically forcing himself to swallow against the burn. Waiting. Waiting for the alchemy to kick in, for the magic toxins that flushed drunks’ faces, lubricant that oiled their scowls into easy smiles. Waiting to feel what everyone else felt, just for a moment.

Lifting his head, Din peers ahead. Shadows of the city’s buildings creep above the horizon like a bad omen. The opposite of a promised land. Hunchbacked buildings stain the blue-gray sky, abruptly interrupt the intricate lava patterns, Nevarro the planet versus Nevarro the city. Din’s stomach crumples. One, maybe two hours by foot. One, maybe two hours, and last night will fade into a distant memory, a collection of ghost sensations.

But not yet. Right now, last night is still real. You are still real.

Crawling back into the tent, he licks his lips for the millionth time today. He can still taste you: that thick, salty-bitter taste, so much better than he could’ve imagined. He hopes it stays on his lips for a long time; or, at least, that he can replace it soon.

Inside, you’re curled up with his cape, a blooming bruise above your shoulder peeking out, the baby’s pram hovering next to you. He sits down, careful not to awake either of you, and runs a finger down your shoulder, feels the skin prickle. He buries his nose on the back of your hair and inhales: rain and earth as usual, but his soap too, a part of him that clings to you. Lips on the crook of your neck, Din smells himself on you, wonders if you’ll want to wash his scent away, or if you’ll want it to stay on you. You stir, your soft exhales gain a rasp. Din smiles. You do snore, after all.

He’ll have to wake you soon. He knows. He knows. You need to talk about last night. You need to have the frank conversation that you’ve both been postponing for way too long, back when you floated in dead space, no deadlines, no rush at all to make decisions. But things have changed, and he knows what he wants now, and he knows it can’t wait. Yet every time his fingers brush your shoulder to nudge you awake, he pulls them back. He’s never seen you so peaceful, not moving except for your expanding and contracting chest, the light fluttering of your lashes. All the fight in your body gone, those tall bridges around you down and inviting. So different from when he met you.

If there’s one thing Din’s good at, it’s sniffing out trouble. He had to be, if he wanted to make it in the Fighting Corps. In the Bounty Hunter’s Guild. He can sweep a room with a mental black light, spot the people who flare up white and bright, the ones he needs to stay away from—or approach, depending on the situation. And that day at the cantina, the first time he laid eyes on you? You glowed with it. Talking big game in Karga’s booth, laughing with your pretty smile and shuffling cards, you beamed with trouble, bright as radiation and just as dangerous. What needed to happen was clear as day. The Mandalorian needed to turn on his heels immediately, strut out of that bounty hunter hive without a second look, and never, ever, ask about you.

He’d been there before.

Mandalorians, despite common belief, are not made of beskar. Not on the inside, at least. They’re all warm blooded organics, burdened with flesh and internal organs and skeletons; pain and pleasure receptors. Older Mandalorians cautioned younger ones when they came of age and finished their training, when they were ready to become providers. Tall stern warriors, his superiors, warned that there would be temptation, situations that would make him doubt the Way. “Even the briefest taste,” Din’s former Alor said with that cavernous voice he had, “can be the point of no return.” And he was right.

Outside the Covert, there was so much…stimuli. Voices and colors and movement, a twenty-four-hour beehive, the galaxy buzzed and vibrated to no end. It was equally wonderous and grotesque, like a circus. The strenuous noises that rattled his ribcage, the strong smells, the different food, his senses had never felt more exhausted. The faces…stars, the faces. How muscles stretched in a big smile, the glint of teeth, the deep creases between eyebrows that signaled anger. Always moving, always changing, Din hadn’t seen so many uncovered heads since he was a child. His first few weeks outside he’d stare at people for hours until they scurried away or tried to fight him. Tried.

Then, when the initial shock wore out, he noticed other details. The way children’s eyes filled with admiration when they’d look at their parents, how that dimpled girl in Alderaan would blush and stutter whenever he bought something from her stall. And Din would wonder, despite all warnings, what it’d feel like to be one of them. To share so much of himself with the outside world. With time, curiosity morphed into obsession, obsession into desperation, and soon enough he found himself with Rand and the others, running rampant in an already chaotic galaxy.

One war, two decades, and a thousand regrets later, the curiosity died down. The helmet helped him tune out the outside world, made it easier to retreat into his memories. The galaxy seemed duller by the day, emptier. Lonelier, though he didn’t dwell on it.

That is, until he met you.

Until his resolve circled the drain and he asked Karga who you were and where to find you, walked into your store without an idea of what he’d say. Behind the counter, eyes shining and that silky voice asking what you could do for him, you reset the galaxy for him. Every time he visited you felt like his first day outside all over again.

But last night—that was stronger, set in stone. It felt like commitment. Something was born last night, something burgeoned in his chest and took root. Din can feel the fullness in his body, like he grew an extra limb, similar to the swell that tangled in his insides when he went back for the kid. He doesn’t have a name for it yet, but it reminds him of the day he swore the Creed. The fresh sense of purpose, the carved-out path in front of him, knowing what needs to be done:

When the siege is over, he’ll take you with him.

“Are you watching me sleep?” you mumble, cotton mouthed. “Kinda creepy.”

Din chuckles, then remembers. Stars, his heart stops beating for a second. Dread and natural reflexes throw his palm whip fast over your closed eyes. Maker. What the hell was he thinking, sitting next to you without the helmet. Maker, one second too late and you could’ve opened your eyes and—

“Didn’t see anything. Promise,” you say with a smile and pull his cape over your face. “Cover up.”

He pats around for the helmet (where the hell did he drop it last night?), finds it abandoned by your feet. When he fits it around his head, the familiar padding hugging his skull, he swears it feels heavier than it did yesterday.

“You decent?”

“Yeah.”

You lower the pseudo blanket, sleepy eyes and easy smile. As if you purposefully want to make it harder for him to strike up a conversation. But do I really need to— Yes. Yes, he does. He has to know where you stand and ask the big question: If you’d be willing to leave with him once the siege is lifted. Stars, his hands are sweating. But he can’t imagine you’d say no. Not after last night.

“Listen…”

As if on cue, whimpers and sniffles float from the closed pram. Great timing, kid. The baby’s ears droop like wilting leaves when Din places him on the ground, and the little bundle waddles with his eyes cast down until he reaches your ankle.

“What is it, kiddo?” you ask softly, your voice gentler than Din’s ever heard, sitting up as you hug his cloak tighter around your shoulders.

“I think…” Din begins, watching the baby sniffle and hug your bandaged calf. “I think he’s apologizing.”

A pair of eight-ball eyes blink at you, shiny with unshed tears, and Din feels an ache deep in his chest. This sweet little kid, all he’s been put through…

“Oh, don’t worry,” you coo, as one of your hands wriggles out the cloak and cradles the baby’s cheek. Your thumb brushes away a fat tear. “I’m tougher than your dad.” You wink at Din: Just kidding. But it’s true. Living in this planet for so long, all on your own. “Tough” is a survival skill for you, not a choice.

Also…dad. He should probably correct you. Din is not the kid’s real father, even though he’s caught himself thinking about the baby as his son once or twice, when he’s not too aware of his inner monologue. But he can’t bring himself to tell you the truth. Actually, he belongs to a race of wizards that I’ve been quested to deliver him to. Can’t adopt him if I’ll eventually give him up. Not when the kid’s shedding quiet tears into your leg and you’re doing your best to soothe him. Nevarro’s not child friendly, and Din can’t imagine you’ve got much practice with baby stuff, but he can tell you’re doing your best. And that’s enough to spread warmth through his chest.

What a troop you must make: Mandalorian bounty hunter, black market dealer, magic green baby. You could set up a three-person circus and retire. Yet the image tugs at a memory tucked away in his mind, something familiar but blurred.

His rumination’s cut short when Din notices the kid’s pudgy hands extending strategically on either side of your right leg, his eyelids beginning to flicker. Shit, shit, shit.

“She forgives you,” he tells the kid hastily as he scoops him and lays him on the open pram. He doesn’t need to be the little womprat’s real father to tell he was about to whip out his favorite party trick: healing witch powers. So far it doesn’t look like it permanently harms him, but it does weaken him, and Din can’t take chances. Plus, he skipped the part about the baby having supernatural powers when he told you his story, and there’s not a hell of a lot of ways one can explain fresh wounds disappearing.

“So,” you say after the baby’s settled in his pod. “What are we going to do,” you start, and Din’s throat knots with dread and excitement, “about the jammer.”

Oh. Stars, straight to business

“You said you have one.”

“I said I might have one,” you answer, grabbing for your discarded skirts. You fumble with them under the cloak, one hand clasped tight around it. It’s funny—after everything you’ve shared, you won’t undress in front of him during the day. “I mean, jammers aren’t picky like motors, they’re more one-size-fits-all.”

“But we still have to rewire it,” Din completes, wiping dry drool from the kid’s cheek with his thumb.

“Right.” Holding the cloak with your chin while you clasp your tunic, you seem to slowly draw your way out of a maze. That restless abacus in your head adding and subtracting. Your brows relax, and Din knows you’ve figured it out. “But I’ve got my equipment in my workshop, and we’d save time not having to remove it from a ship. And, no offense, but the Crest’s jammer was an antique. Way more complicated than newer models.” You finish dressing and hand him the cloak. “Only problem is the potential trooper stakeout outside the store.”

“I’ll take care of troopers.” Din takes the cloak and hesitates. It’s day nine, that time bomb still ticks in his head. Could it be that easy? Could you really do all this in one day? “What if we don’t finish on time?”

“Then,” you say, “we’ll figure something out.”

We, Din thinks, and smiles. Somehow, that’s all the reassurance he needs.

≈

Nevarro couldn’t look more deserted if tumbleweed rolled in the streets. The city’s a populated ghost town, no man’s land that’s filled with men. Well, men is a strong word. How did Viszla put it that time? We live hidden like sand rats. Yes, rats seems more fitting. Packs of them, scurrying around the former Covert, stealing Mandalorian armor to be bartered for scraps. Karga didn’t have to spell it out when he told him about people finding the Covert. Mando is familiar with the ways of the Outer Rim: Anything unclaimed is up for the taking, and beskar’s too tempting to resist. Knowing doesn’t make his blood boil any less, though. If Din focuses, he can almost hear their squeaking echoing from the sewers, the scavengers of this gray rock serving themselves to the abandoned armor of his people.

Movement to the left. The Mandalorian draws his blaster and bars you with his forearm, to see…a tunic. A short tunic. Tiny red lights. A Jawa. He exhales and sheathes the blaster. Stars. With the vembrance turned off, he has to rely on bare eyesight to scan for danger.

The Jawa drags a sleigh behind him. On it lies a dead or unconscious trooper (it makes no difference to these creatures), its gloved fingers drawing traffic lines on the mud and ash of unpaved streets. Red stars below the cowl focus on you for half a second, the bounty hunter’s hand approaches his blaster, and…

…and the Jawa waves at you, says “hello” in its squeaky language. You wave back, smiling, and the lump of shadow continues on its way. A neighborly gesture that in this context is plain bizarre.

“Old friend of yours?” Mando asks, walking again.

“Associate,” you correct, running a finger along the kid’s left ear until it twitches and he giggles. “Jawas scavenge parts straight from the wreckage, eliminate the middle man. And they don’t report to the New Republic.”

You mean steal from the wreckage, Din almost says, but bites it back. He supposes he can’t judge you for trading with Jawas. Prospects on the Outer Rim are bleaker than ever, and everyone’s got to eat. Especially during a siege.

Maker, sometimes he can’t believe he convinced himself to leave you here. Marooned in the type of place Core World citizens only talk about with shaking heads and disapproving voices. The type of place that makes people feel better about their lives, because hey, it could be worse, at least I don’t live in Nevarro. Granted, Din didn’t know then there’d be a siege. After the fight, after he bid goodbye to Cara and Karga, he hovered on the atmosphere for longer than was safe, gazing down at your store’s roof from the Razor Crest’s cockpit. His head a seesaw, weighing his options and unable to make a decision. You were still so close. He could fly back down to the surface, knock on your door, and take you away with him like he did with the kid.

Would you say yes? Reject him?

But most importantly: what about his quest? What kind of life would you lead travelling with him, a fugitive of the Empire and the New Republic? Life for Din has been defined by survival. Every day he’s had to get up and fight; fight to an inch of his life, fight with concussions, frostbite, shattered ribs. Knife wounds, blaster wounds. Personal wounds. He didn’t want that for you. You’re young, clever, resourceful. After that day, maybe you’d decide Nevarro was too dangerous. Maybe you’d pay your passage on a cruiser and start over in the Core Worlds, make your luck own there. Find a good man, if that’s what you wanted.

So he started the thrusters—the same ones he bought from you so long ago—and jumped into hyperspace with a semi clear conscience. This was best for everyone. You probably wouldn’t have accepted his offer, anyway. For five months he lived with his decision. And then he learnt about the siege.

In the sky, a string of river pearls forms a pattern like a necklace. Imperial cruisers, tie fighters, every ship that Guideon commands, solemnly presiding over Nevarro, itching to shoot down runaways. They’re too far up in the atmosphere to make out anyone in the surface, but Mando grabs your arm and coaxes you behind him all the same, his grip on the pram tighter. The memory of that imp’s blaster on your forehead is still too fresh. The dried blood on your legs.

Din glances back at you briefly. You catch his eye and smile—not grin, not smirk—but smile, a pretty, kind smile that would put to shame any of the imaginary Naboo girls you were so worked up about two nights ago. He should know, he’s been to Naboo, and none of the women there had your kaleidoscopic face, those hints of life that send his pulse on a sprint. The Mandalorian wonders what else you could be hiding under that sharp tongue, behind those clever eyes.

“Mando,” you call and point at a blackened mass to your right. “Nursery’s this way.”

All buildings in Nevarro emerge from volcanic rock, pushing away from clumps of hardened magma. They’re half-manmade, half-volcano hybrids—it’s a useful layout that gives their structure grip against constant earthquakes. It also, however, makes the buildings look like tumors growing on the navel of an ill planet. Your store’s the only one that’s never looked malignant, more like a sprouting flower than a parasite.

And now, the cantina too. Burned to a crisp, blacker than night, the former Church of Nevarro seems to have been swallowed by its unwilling host: the volcanic rock it was built upon. It’d be near impossible to know there’s a cantina inside, if not for the wide window peering inside. And it’s far from impossible for you or Mando, who know by heart where all the doors stand. He pushes one open for you, and together you walk inside.

“Thumb on the bottom, middle and ring fingers on the top, index to the side,” instructs Cara from behind the cantina’s crisp black counter. “The other side.”

Greef Karga sits on a stool opposite her, fumbling with a deck of cards. “Got it. Then what?”

“Then…” The veteran moves aside a flask of ardees and places a matching deck on the bar. “Pressure with your index, release the thumb.” She acts out her instructions and creates an arched ribbon spread on the surface. The Mandalorian can’t remember the last time he walked into the cantina and didn’t see the hypnotic patterns on cards, didn’t hear the wing-flapping noise of their shuffle. Although if he thinks about it, it makes sense that sabacc is the local sport around here. Dumb luck is the only god in the Outer Rim, where inhabitants gaze perpetually at their uncertain future and never look back. Tomorrow they’ll get a better hand, yesterday’s lost credits are forgotten. Everyone here seems to shed their past like snake skin.

“Nice spread, Dune,” you call. Greef and Cara follow your voice, realize they have visitors. “You should job hunt at Canto Bight.”

“Oh yeah?” replies the ex-shock trooper with an impish grin, both elbows on the counter and a rag over her shoulder, all bartender swagger. “What do you know about Canto Bight, hot stuff? Heard you’ve never been off this rock.” She spies a sly glance at Mando, enough to confirm that she’s annoying him on purpose, openly flirting with you. He squares his stance, rolls the helmet to pin her down with the visor, but (he really should know this by now) it does little to intimidate her.

“No trash talk before nightfall, ladies,” quips Karga, walking towards the pram. “And certainly not in front of babies. Hello, little one!” Said little one coos and lifts his skinny arms to be lifted by the Guild Leader, who sits back down delighted at having the baby’s favor, the little rascal on his lap. “He likes me!” Greef Karga smiles wide, flashing those white glinting teeth that’ve always reminded Din of a wolf’s. He’s not happy to leave the kid here, but he can’t take him if there’s a stakeout in your store. Beggars can’t be choosers and so on. But Cara’s here, and Din knows he can trust her with the baby. Though not with you, evidently.

“Tell you what, Mando,” Cara continues, apparently not done peacocking around you. “We arm wrestle, just like last time. Winner gets a flask of spotchka and the opportunity to take the lady to Canto Bight after you lift the siege.”

“Help us lift the siege and I’ll consider winning that flask.”

Dune lets out an long whistle, giving you a complicit look. “Big words.”

Your eyes rake along the Mandalorian’s armor slowly, boots to helmet, a dark tint in your eyes. Din flushes, the oppressive heat of his clothes suddenly thicker.

You shrug and answer, “Big man.” Your fingertips dance idly around the nape of your neck, which makes Mando think about last night, about his tongue on your neck and the purple bruises he sucked, the salty taste of flesh, the heady one between your legs. The memory steers blood into…into awkward places. Which, knowing you, was your intention. Maker, he needs to talk to you about teasing him in public.

“Help you how?” asks Greef, lifting the baby into the counter, whose six little claws hold on to two of his gloved fingers.

“Look after the kid, we won’t be more than a few hours.”

“Sure thing!” booms Karga, at the same time as Cara says, “Fuck no.”

You fold your arms at the veteran. “You scared of an infant, Dune? It’s only one of him, and…” you squint at the cantina’s black shell, like something’s out of place in its burned remains, “…two of you. Where’s—” you start, before glancing at Mando and swallowing the second half.

“Duma?” supplies Karga, tapping the corners of the deck on the counter. “Don’t know, probably boiling beskar to make broth. Rumor has it she’s running out of supplies, fast. Did you ever take her up on that deal?”

Your eyes shoot vibroblades at him, your mouth a flat line.

“What deal?” Mando asks.

“Nothing,” you reply, still glaring warnings at Karga, who sighs, shakes his head, and tickles the baby’s tummy. The kid giggles and kicks half the deck off the counter. “Nothing important. We should get going.”

Outside, you guide the Mandalorian through a maze of back alleys, the ugly underbelly of a planet that’s already the galaxy’s own underbelly. Mando glues a palm to his blaster’s grip, lifting it only as muscle memory to turn on the vembrance and activate the setting to scan footprints, frustrated when he remembers his own piece of equipment would immediately snitch on him. Yet you glade past dark corners that beg for their own knife-brandishing mugger with the grace of someone frolicking in D’Qar’s moorlands, postcard-calm.

Once in your store’s backdoor, the Mandalorian ventures a glance at the front street. Empty. Like the rest of the city, it’s like curfew was declared, not an imp in sight. Certainly not a stakeout in process. Behind him, you push the door open, the busted security panel no more than a prop to discourage robbers.

“What?” you ask when he doesn’t walk inside.

“There’s nobody here,” he answers, studying the connecting alleys like a web of arteries, waiting for a trooper squadron to materialize and ambush you.

“It’s quiet too quiet?” you tease with a lopsided grin. “Lay off the thrillers, Mando. Come on.”

You step inside, he hesitates. “Could be a trap.”

Hands on the doorframe, leaning forward, your face almost touches the helmet. “Then you’ll shoot them and we’ll be back to square one. Not much of a choice here, Mando.” Those pretty eyes, your shining, wet lips. It’s a siren’s call he knows he shouldn’t answer.

The Mandalorian follows you inside.

It takes him a moment to recognize his surroundings.

Your store hibernates in the dark, stale air floating around its vault. Your store, which used to buzz with drills and neon lights and life around the clock, looms like a beast’s hollow belly, crypt-still. Lights off and furniture wrapped in sheets, it looks abandoned, the way all those family houses in deserted villages were hastily vacated during the war. He wonders how long you’ve been out of business because of the siege. Because of him.

You walk across the reception in tomb silence. In the reception signs hang next to the front desk—store policies that gave Mando more than one headache—dark and colorless, like they turned in their badges and no longer preside over this place. Only “NO IMPS” twitches, one or two agonizing flashes of neon green, before it shuts down like its colleagues. Six rules in total, although in Din’s opinion there’s a seventh that foregoes the need of a sign: “NO QUESTIONS”.

That’s a rule that everyone in Nevarro—bounty hunter or not—subscribes to. It’s the rule you followed when the Mandalorian walked into your store, still crafting some half-assed excuse about thrusters when he came face to face (helmet to face?) with you. You never asked about New Republic guidelines or what he wanted them for. Not even for his name. No questions when he came back two weeks later. No questions as weeks passed and then months, as tension thickened between you until his internal barometer cracked.

No questions when his thinning resolve broke one night. That night. He pushed you onto your workbench, you undid each other’s belts, pawed at each other’s sides. No questions when he slid into your wet heat, when he had to stop for a second to avoid a heart attack. No questions when he finished inside you, blood roaring in his ears, your sighs clouding his visor, your hand gently pushing him back.

And then, his question: “Where are you going?”

“Upstairs,” you answered, pulling your trousers back around your hips.

It dropped on his head like freezing water. Upstairs. Upstairs to your apartment, to rest. Alone. Meaning your encounter was a one-night stand, a shortcut to let off some steam. Stars, you were basically swinging the front door wide open for him, putting away a couple of wrenches and switching off the lights to signal the night was over. The Mandalorian didn’t need questions to know he’d overstayed his visit.

But…what if he’d spent the night anyway? Maybe the next morning he would’ve been upfront with you, confess he’d wanted you for so long and that he wanted it to evolve past one furtive encounter, that he wanted it to be real. No, he probably wouldn’t have. As a bounty hunter—as Mandalorian—there are things he simply can’t have. Things that are better off unspoken, better off—

“Tucked away,” you say behind him, making the Mandalorian jump.

“What?”

“The planner.” You walk behind the front desk. “I was saying I don’t remember leaving it here. I thought it was tucked away in some box.”

Oh.

It is strange. A light sheen of dust covers the counter, yet the planner is glossy clean, a painted depiction of the Manarai Mountains on its cover. A souvenir from Coruscant. He wonders who brought you that. It tugs at something sweet but sad in his chest, the fact that you have to rely on others’ cheap souvenirs to explore the galaxy. That’ll change as soon as this mess with the siege is settled.

You flip through the planner, empty for the most part but for a few scribbles on the first pages. It’s dated 5 ABY, four years ago. The Mandalorian knows from experience that your appointment rule works mostly to turn away unsavory clients. Or to get on his nerves.

“Look at that,” you murmur as if reading his mind, your finger pointing at nothing on a page. “You don’t have an appointment, Mando.”

“We don’t have time for this,” he answers, though he knows he’ll make time for it anyway. It used to drive him up the wall whenever you refused to see him using that stupid excuse. But, as with everything with you, it was more complicated than that. It took longer than he’s willing to admit to understand that it was a game. That you liked him riled up, after the push and pull, the hot and cold, the challenge. You had a taste for difficulty. Although it didn’t take as long to figure out that he liked it too. “Just let me in.”

“I don’t know,” you drawl, glancing at the dull signs on the wall. “Rules are rules.”

The Mandalorian has played this game with you enough to know what you want. He thinks of all those memories in this building. You, pinned between his armor and the doorframe; him, sitting on that battered couch upstairs with your hands on his knees. Even those calm nights, when you’d only sit and talk and make him laugh, and sometimes he’d get a laugh from you too, if he didn’t try too hard. All the sweating and the panting and the talking that these walls have witnessed. Maybe there’s time for one last memory before you both leave this planet for good. Not maybe—there’s definitely time. If this were an ambush, you’d be dodging blaster shots by now.

“So bend the rules,” he says slowly, gripping his edge of the counter and dropping his voice to the low register that gives you goosebumps. “For me.”

Your eyes twinkle like copper at the fact that he’s playing along. “And what do I get in return?”

This time, he doesn’t hesitate. “Whatever you want.” Perhaps he’s known for a while, in the back of his head where he could ignore it, but last night the idea rushed to his front lobe. He’ll give you anything you want.

“I want…” you begin, mischief shining in your eyes, before a shadow clouds them. Slowly, your face goes soft, a special kind of longing in your pupils. You swallow, your voice becomes throaty, and the words sound truer than anything Din’s ever heard: “I want you. I just want you.”

He almost trips on his feet when he rounds the counter, his head already swimming. The hunter crowds you with his body, backs you up against the counter until you’re caged and looking up at him, hooded eyes and parted lips. Hot stuff. Cara’s shallow pet name. When he heard it he thought it was inappropriate. But now. As your mouth nestles on his clothed neck and breathes hot, damp air through the fabric—a mild sensation for most people, he guesses, but almost a mating call for him—he realizes it’s not untrue. The name fits you like a glove, hot stuff. It’s just…incomplete. If he’s learnt anything these nine days is that there’s so much more to you, enough sailor knots of emotion and personality inside you to loop around the galaxy if unraveled.

“Touch me,” you breathe, rubbing up against him, searching friction. “Please, please, touch me. There’s nobody here, we—we have time.”

Gloved palms on your waist, down to your hips, lower to your ass, Din tries to fondle you as best he can. He pins you between the counter and his hips, your leg curls around his back and holds him closer. His erection starts to bulge against your belly, your breaths start quickening, your hearts start pumping faster. The tell-tale signs that indicate you’re both ready to go hit all their usual beats. But something’s missing. There’s a step you’re skipping, something…something he’s not doing right.

Tentatively, you press a small kiss on his covered neck, and he can only feel its frustrating whisper, a promise of more.

A lightbulb flicks on.

Mando holds your hips and spins you around, the desk’s edge on your waist. “Bend over,” he grouses next to your ear, his voice sand-coarse. “Don’t turn around.”

Gloves off first. One palm cradles the back of your neck, feels you shiver. His left hand runs down your back and around to your tummy, savoring all those warm, secret places on you, the way your body opens up to him on instinct. The power trip when he cups your heat through your skirts and you moan into the counter. You nestle your hips on his lap, and he stiffens on command, a tug between his legs that he knows is far too insistent for foreplay. Stars, it’s like he’s conditioned to get hard in this store.

“Don’t—” he chokes out “—not so fast. Or I—I won’t—”

“What?” you pant. Din hears the grin laced in your voice and knows it’s bad news for him. He drops to his knees and both hands walk up your bandaged calves, squeeze the tops of your thighs. “You…you don’t…” He throws your skirts over your back. You inhale sharply at the cold air—or at his hands pulling the soft flesh of your backside. When he removes the helmet, your pitch sounds broken up, more desperate. “You d-don’t want…”

It’s a small victory when he parts his lips against your clothed core and it’s you, for once, who chokes on words. Small victory, but he’ll take it, especially after the way his cock twitches in his pants when he smells you. He kisses you again, just a peck over your clit, and your legs shake. Fucking…stars. If this is how you feel when you tease him…well, he gets it. You mewl and push back on his face, but he hardly thinks you want it that easy.

“Stop moving,” he tells you sternly, with a voice he’d use on quarries.

A shiver runs down your spine. “But—” You break into a whine when his open palm slaps the side of your thigh. It’s probably the surprise rather than the sting that makes you inhale sharply, and a combination of both that dampens the cotton between your legs.

“Stop moving,” he repeats, mouth pressed against your core so you can feel the vibration; that, he learnt from you. “Or you don’t get my mouth.”

Above him, you let out a displeased little grunt, too throaty to mean much. But you open your legs wider and brace yourself on the front desk, grant him full access to you. His index hooks on your underwear, moves it aside, and he buries his lips deep into the softest part of you. Din barely hears you gasp. He circles both arms around your thighs and pulls you closer, until his tongue is buried between your folds and you just have to take it. Fuck, it’s just…decadent. The taste, the smell, how soaked you are already, your little purrs and whimpers when he sucks on your lips. They’re not things he ever thought he’d get to feel. He doesn’t deserve any of it.

“Mmm, stars, Mando,” you sob, sneakily rutting your hips like you just can’t help it. He allows it, but only because he’s so rock fucking hard he’s practically doing the same thing. His cock trapped down one pant leg, he squeezes his thighs to try and soothe the ache. “Move—move up a b-bit.”

“No,” he grunts, and licks a slow line from the spot right below your clit to the back of your slit. It wasn’t so long ago that it was your mouth on him, you teasing him mercilessly inside this very store, him moaning and grunting and losing his mind. That’s how he wants you: sloppy, desperate, begging.

“Maker, don’t t-tease,” you moan, but it only encourages him. His tongue slides deep inside you where you’re hotter than sin, enjoying how your walls swell and tighten around it. You’re so fucking wet, he could push into you right now and relieve the pressure building between his legs. But not yet.

“Beg me,” Din groans, mouthing at the inside of your thighs and sucking tiny bruises there. You moan above him, deep in your throat, and he wonders which one of you is more turned on right now. “Put—fuck—put that smart mouth to use. Beg me.”

For a moment all he can hear is your labored breathing, the wheels turning in your pretty head, laying out a plan to make him give in faster. Then, soft and sweet, you hum, “Mando.”

One word. Probably the word Din hears the most, so generic and impersonal that everyone from friends to strangers to enemies call him that. That word coming from your lips makes his heart sprint, his cock pulse and scream at him to hurry up. Stars, but if it was his name—his real name—on your lips, soft and purring like you pronounced his nickname, he knows he wouldn’t be able to hold back a second longer.

“You always make me feel so good,” you continue, arching your back a little to test the waters. “You’re so—so good with your mouth, stars. Want you to kiss me again—kiss me everywhere. Taste me like yesterday—” Your breath catches when he sucks on your inner lips again, closer to where you want him. Maker, if you keep talking like that… “Used to th-think about it all the time, how—mmm—how your—your tongue would feel. Never, ngh, never thought you’d use it th-there, though.” Din laps at your cunt, drinks from it. Fuck, he can’t remember the last time he got this hard. An airy laugh before you continue. “You can be so d-dirty sometimes. I’d let you do—do anything to me.”

Really, Din doesn’t know what pushes him to do it. He doesn’t know what makes him pull back and spread you open with his fingers, stare at your glistening, deliciously swollen folds, and spit at their very top. You moan raggedly above him, a complete mess of sobs and whimpers, as Din simply stares. He watches the trail of spit run down your slit, the lower it goes the more precum he feels sticking to his trousers. Half-drunk on your words and your slick, Din thinks: What did you do to me? Maker, you have him wrapped around your finger.

Saliva trails down until it teardrops on your clit, clings to it, and he doesn’t need another sign. His lips latch on to your bundle of nerves and suck. You sob and whine and cry, rocking your hips hard against his mouth, and he continues sucking through his teeth. Your knees give out, but he holds them before you can hit the ground, holds you in place as he feels you give him everything, your pussy clenching around nothing. Slick trails down his chin, all the way to his neck, and—shit. He’s going to burst in his pants just from feeling you cum in his mouth.

It takes every last ounce of self-control he has left to detach his lips from your cunt and stumble to his feet. You’re still shaking, still panting, but he can’t hold it back a minute longer. Fuck, not even a second longer, he needs to have you right now.

It’s a struggle to get a hold of his fly, fingers trembling and teeth grinding. When he finally pulls the zipper down, the sound snaps your head up.

“Are you—Mando, are you going to—”

“Yes,” he grunts, digging into his waistband for his cock, lining it up against your cunt. Stars, he’s so pent up, it hurts to touch it. “Is it—is it o-okay, can—can, I—”

“Oh, fuck, yes,” you mewl, pushing your hips so tightly against his groin the head of his cock catches against your entrance. Fuck. “Please, please, please, put it inside, let me feel your big, thick, co—”

One hard shove, deep enough that he feels himself poke your cervix, and he’s cumming—hard. His spine doubles over and he grunts and moans into your hair, giving you short, stunted thrusts as he fills you to the brim. You were already so swollen before, now you feel unbearably tight, squeezing his cock so harshly his eyes roll back on his skull. And his balls keep pulling up and giving you more of his load, his teeth grinding so hard they might crack. One last thrust, nice and deep so his cum stays inside you, and his palm presses down on your eyes. Din uses that hand as leverage to turn you around and tilt your head like you showed him, just enough so he can reach your lips. And he kisses you.

Your bodies spasm and throb against each other, you clench around him involuntarily and he flinches, too sensitive to handle the aftershocks of your orgasm. Still, he could stay like this for days. Gently sucking on your tongue, running his along the roof of your mouth, feeling how your lips curve against his in a smile. Then, an alarming thought. Maybe this is the only way to do it that feels right now—sex, he means. With the helmet off, his lips on yours, his nose on your hair. Bare hands drawing circles on your hips. Every sense devoted to you. Even the briefest taste can be a point of no return.

You peck his lips and flutter sweet, short kisses around his jaw, working your way up to his ear, where you whisper, “We’re running out of time.”

The jammer. Those words are quickly becoming the bane of his existence. “I know,” he whispers back, but presses one last, long kiss to your lips that feels inexplicably sad, like a kiss goodbye. Din shakes the thought off his head. He’s too pessimistic sometimes.

You both hiss when he pulls out, slowly so he won’t hurt you.

“Keep ‘em closed,” he tells you before removing his hand from your eyes. For all he knows you could open them right there, and there’d be nothing he could do about it. Somehow, however, he’s certain you won’t. His trust is rewarded when he pulls the hand back, and your eyes are screwed shut beneath it.

It takes an awkward choreography to straighten yourselves. You try to pull your own underwear back on, but in your position it’s near impossible. So Din kneels behind you once more, fishes his helmet from the floor, tucks himself back into his trousers, and lifts your panties until they hug your hips. You push your own skirts down before Din’s upright, which results in the long fabric covering him like your furniture. You share a quick laugh before standing straight and facing each other.

“You can open them.”

Now, he tells himself, watching your sated smile and blinking eyes. The words are on the tip of his tongue: When this is over, would you like to come with me—

“If there’s a jammer here,” you say, before he can get a word out, “it’s in the workshop.”

You walk around him and open a door behind the reception desk to reveal the staircase that leads to your apartment. Din’s still telling himself that he’ll just ask you later, when you climb one step—and stop. You turn around like you can sense he’s about to ask, for the second time in this store, where you’re going.

“Gotta get some stuff from upstairs, but I’ll be down in a second.” Your voice wobbles, your foot hesitates on the step. You’re nervous. “But if you find the jammer before I come back, don’t…don’t leave.”

“Of course not.” Maker, of course he wouldn’t leave without you. Do you really think he would?

The workshop is darker than the reception. A single window, currently boarded up, so he has to use the helmet’s light. The cone of white light creates a sinister effect, like creatures lurk everywhere it doesn’t touch. Rubber tubes hang from the ceiling like lianas, circuit boards glimmer green like leaves, and yellow sensors blink from several components. Your own little ecosystem watches him dig into boxes of clutter to search for a jammer. Stars, he’s never known how you manage to find anything here. It’s probably best if he waits outside; he wouldn’t be able to find his own ship in here without you.

He’s turning to the door when the helmet’s light catches on a dark glint, like it reflected on a mirror. It stops him on his tracks. Din’s not sure what prompts his feet to carry him toward your worktable, where the mystery item lays center-front. He sees himself reflected on the dark T-visor. It’s a helmet. It’s a blue Mandalorian helmet.

At first he’s confused. Surprised to see a Mandalorian helmet here—and is it even a Madalorian helmet? Yes, yes it is. His brain lags behind his eyes, goes through different scenarios, each less likely than the last.

Is there another Mandalorian here? Did the Alor bring this? Is the Alor a client?

And then, truth.

It falls abruptly on his back like atmospheric pressure, gravity that crushes. A hot rush of blood enveloping his head, poisoning his thoughts, a ringing in his ears so sharp he thinks he might pass out. A million thoughts in less than a second—convoluted, scrambled, furious. Then an image, so clear that the Maker himself might’ve played it for him like a holo: Thieves, scammers, criminals scurrying through the tunnels of the Covert, the empty halls where his people built a refuge, where they could feel safe. The pile of beskar armor unguarded—the high price that brave Mandalorians paid to help Din, help the child—served in a silver platter for these scavengers, these fucking honorless lowlifes.

His gloved fingers grip your worktable so hard his knuckles might crack—or the table. But the Mandalorian can’t feel the pain on his joints, not when his bloodstream’s turned to acid, when it feels like somebody jammed live wires into his head.

This fucking place. This planet with its fucking people, their fucking cynicism, this fucking landfill for hazardous waste, this piece of shit skughole—

Above, the Mandalorian hears footsteps. Your footsteps. You.

He looks down at the helmet, the empty T-visor limp and black, dead. You did this. Thinking of you clears the red cloud from his mind, trades it for a gray one. A headache creeps behind his eyes, his shoulders go slack. He feels hollowed out. Like a spoon reached inside his chest and scooped away everything essential, left him a carcass. Like something died here today.

You did this.

And then the helmet is not a helmet, but a severed head. A head with a pool of blood around it, guts sprayed all over, and there’s the corrupt smell of blaster residue coming from his neighbor’s house, the taste of copper after biting his tongue running, the durasteel giants shooting red death, the deafening explosions, his parents’ screams, his school going up in a cloud of smoke, his father holding him, whispering one last sentence that he can’t hear through the sounds of war and carnage, his mother’s cheeks stained with tears and dirt and blood, their blurring faces, the darkness, the fear.

Holding the helmet, Din feels tears sting in the corners of his eyes, then hot on his cheeks. Nobody understands, why can’t anybody understand? The warrior that owned this helmet is lost forever, condemned to live like a phantom, empty without the Creed, without the Way. It’s worse than death. It’s the curse that most of the Covert was forced to carry, to walk this galaxy like living dead, violently stripped of everything that mattered. And the relic of their sacrifice sits in your workshop next to the rest of your junk, ready to be sold off to the highest bidder, somebody who’ll want to hang it in their wall like game they hunted, and how could you do this to him, how could you, how could you do this—

“Find anything yet?”

When the Mandalorian turns, his helmet’s white light locks you in place like quarry. Like guilty quarry.

You squint and raise a palm to shut out the bright beam. “Stars, Mando,” you laugh. “Are you trying to blind me? Turn that off.”

Your words are muffled by the rushing blood that wraps around his ears, loud as a waterfall, but he can understand them. The Mandalorian grips the helmet tighter between his hands and keeps the light on so you can see what he found, what he knows about you. The ugly, festered truth about you.

Once your eyes adjust to the bright light and they’re able to stay open for more than three seconds, you give him a quizzical look. The visor gives you nothing, so you drop your gaze to the hard evidence between his hands.

And you have the nerve to look even more surprised. Furrowed eyebrows and everything to add to the performance.

“Where did you get that?” you ask.

A thousand responses climb into his head in a savage, foul clutter, like army ants. I should ask you the same, where do you think?, how much are they giving you?, was it worth it?, what’s wrong with you?, what’s wrong with this fucking planet? He opens his mouth, but they swarm in his throat all at once and tie a knot around his windpipe. More tears on his cheeks, another attempt at words—nothing.

Finally, quietly: “How could you do this to me?”

The crease between your brows digs deeper, and there’s genuine worry in your eyes. Of course you’re worried, he just caught you red fucking handed. “Mando, I really don’t understand—”

“Me neither,” he hisses through his teeth, “because this is a Mandalorian helmet, and you’re no Mandalorian.” The first insect out, the rest follow like a waterfall, crawling out his mouth. “How long did you wait after I left to steal this from the Covert? An hour? Five minutes?”

Trapped under the light, where you can no longer hide in shadows, you look stricken. The harsh light shines on circles under your eyes, creases where you frown. Bleak features he never noticed before.

Your voice is low and icy when you say, “I never stole anything from the Covert.”

“Scavenge, loot, I don’t care what you people like to call it.” How could you, after everything, how could you.

“Listen to me,” you say steadily, but your eyes are hot coals and your jaw is set, your own anger rising. Good. Masks off. He wants to see who’s been hiding under his noses these nine days. All those fucking months. “I didn’t take a thing from the Covert. I have no idea where that helmet came from.”

The Mandalorian is barely listening. He’s heard more than enough lies for two lifetimes, he sure as fuck doesn’t need yours. Instead, he focuses on the one thought that manages to float in the red sea of anger and despair. He holds on to it like an anchor, clutches it until his palms bleed, but truth hurts.

“Duma.” He doesn’t ask this time around—he tells you. He knows and there’s nothing you can do about it—nothing he can do about it. Greef Karga’s words shine painful light on fog. Boiling beskar…did you take her up on that deal? “You’re selling it to her.”

“Stars, of course not.” The stoniness of your features melts for an instant, hurt revealed underneath those layers. You look devastated, tired. Maker, you’re good. Those hours of sabacc are sure paying off. “Why won’t you believe me?”

“How can I believe you?” he snarls, his head suffocating in dark quicksand—grief, anger, betrayal all clogging his nostrils, making his head throb. How could you how could you how could you. “When I know what type of people sprout from this planet, I make a living hunting them. I know you—” his voice breaks, but the words keep flowing and he hardly hears them “—I know the kind of company you keep, I know you have no principles, I know you can’t commit to shit—”

“Commit?” you snap, face hardening cold and twisted like the magma outside, but he knows too well what lies beneath the surface. Lava, hot and bubbling, your anger as raw as his. Rawer. “You wanna talk about commitment? I waited for you for five months!” The light from the helmet no longer makes you squint, but it turns your eyes red and watery. “You left. You left me here to starve through a fucking siege that you caused—”

“I came back for you!”

That gives you pause. Then you shake your head. “No, you came back because that piece of shit official asked—”

“He asked to meet me in Belderone.” Belderone, same sector as Nevarro, not even ten minutes away in hyperspace. “Told me Nevarro wasn’t safe because there was a siege, so I insisted we meet here.” The memory drains him. How worried he was about you, the type of worried that stirs bile in the stomach. How guilty he felt. “To see you again. Make sure you were okay.” The Mandalorian looks down at the helmet in his hands, a strange mirror staring up at him. Harsher than the one from this morning. His ears ring, his mouth tastes sour, his rising headache plateaus into an unbearable, incessant throb. A ghost limb aches somewhere in his body, all over it. He wants to leave your store, your planet.

How could you?

Mando doesn’t raise his head to look at you when he walks out the workshop. You don’t stop him when he reaches the main door. You don’t stop him when he walks out to the street.

The sky is jaundice-yellow when he steps outside. Gone are this morning’s blue hues, suffocated by the sickly coughing of a million volcanos, by their fumaroles and their sparks. For all the Mandalorian cares, this planet can burn.

On his way to the cantina to pick up the kid, he stares at the marker that identifies the entrance to the city: that crooked, arthritis-ridden arch. Beyond it, he spots the outline of a ship. A sleek civilian shuttle, probably a rental. The official isn’t stupid enough to fly a Republic starship past siege lines, so if the tiny shuttle fooled Guideon’s platoon in the atmosphere, well, it’ll have to do it again. Tomorrow, they’ll just have to tempt fate and avoid tempting the batallion of Imperial cruisers. Or fly out in the Crest and hope they can jump into hyperspace before imps pulverize them. All he wants is to put as many lightyears between him and this planet.

Din’s head pounds when he walks inside the cantina. The only thought hammering against his skull: How could you.

…………

Edit: Chapter 5…’tis the end

Taglist: @rosetophighlander @hellomothermoon @newyorksins @leo-moon @benedrylcumbersnatch @corrupt-fvcker @seratoninforyouseratoninforme @multifandomlife22 @justanotherblonde23 @abysshaven @equalstrashflavoredtrash @16boyfriends-and-me @ihaveashield @dinispunk @bananaagurl @mstgsmy @absurdthirst @cowboy-kylo @roxypeanut @heyitmelexie @readsalot73 @krazykatkay456 @elusive-danger-noodle @lola-wolf @nikkiparthena @lifeisapitch15 @teaofpeach @auty-ren @anewrule @hyp-oh-critical @pascaliprincess @geannad @coaaster @frietiemeloen @yourbucky084 @brynnstudies @elfwoodfae

im pretty sure i forgot someone so please message me if i did!

#the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin smut #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando smut #mando x reader #mando x you #mywriting #rule maker rule breaker

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istherewifiinhell · 3 years ago

Text

reading process: chapter 196 (damn)

reading highlights: now with new and improved features

178 Yjh hesitating to fast ball special this weird little dude: pls dont die. kdj: look at me. bitch

179 Gah. can an author make a story so big even their monster cant eat it

180 I knew the 4th wall was gonna eat but i forgot IT HAS TEETH

shaking the no no can at 4th wall

gah okay yeah jesus lee sookyung [song accompaniment love run by the amazing devil]

the narrative will make you apart of it (threat)

181 '4th wall also isolated me from myself' DING DING DING

overall evaluation ⬛⬛... -> mood

gonna twach the sentient dangerous trauma response some... morals? interpersonal skills?

↳cant handle direct interaction, eats and sleeps. yea

↳im gonna take a nap right here

LJH: arent you and kdj.... yjh grimacing as being ask about his love life by his teenage ward

kdj funeral -> song accompaniment welly boots by the amazing devil (just because I left doesnt mean I'm not still there)

YJH sponsor -> praying for his fate eh?

182 [sponsors lhs 100 head pats]

SYS is literally your daughter 🥺. kdj dad who hates dads moment

183 lhs wants to be on kdj team :((((

I WOULD LIKE TO SEE LHS IN THE DRESS

(did hades make it??)

184 feeling differently after talking to 4th wall yeah pretty sure you had a break thru about dissociating there

yjh: looking with eyes not seen in TWOS -> kdj facial expression blindness trutherism

185 YJH: cause you know me sooo well kdj: starting to think i dont know this you that well

yjh thoughts: there have never been so many ppl who made it to here

"continue to live kim dokja now you have to save this world"

kdj u cant take your own medicine (yjh scheming)

LSK contemplating abt what shit is up with her son

Something lives IN THE WALL

186 other people feel pain with no wall. YES!

"I told him there is no such development [yjh death] in the ending i want"

'yjh desperate face' thats crushing to even read

187 hsy type cast as murder friend sorry bestie

god some classic kdj asshole moments -> guilting lhs and everything

"see the sight of a bearish man weeping" i would like to

jhw T.T oh my murder woman

188 making sys and lgy do this. your KIDS! -> generational Something or other

kdj to yjh: you cant change whats already happened -> this may be an unauthorized use of radical acceptance

your stigma is Literally self sacrifice based... DUDE

get killed by the narrative. your loved ones but also the story... for the story. AH

yjh im so sorry... this is devasting

Uriel... lol shes sweet ig

Demon king of salvation. so juicy (unionize hell lol)

189 LHS LGY YJH boy grief party

yjh widower era

min jiwon and han donghoon! yay

yoohan bonding?

190 Bihyung aw!

[I will pull all of you down from that fucking heaven]

191 a soul can't belong to anyone!

"I will destroy the world of the fucking dokkaebis"

192 ur still a jerk kdj. drama kid

193 yeah fuck the state jhw

do they all share a house 🥺

LHS is back with the army... okay putting a pin in that

yjh stayed in his room like a broken person... bruh

jhw was a bartender? did i know that? it makes so much sense tho

kdj ur story is told bc they love you!!

194 idk i was the only person reading this 1000 chapter work and when i left a comment some stuff changed

syswitz industrial complex... run that by me one more time

damn human life is just like hell, ive been saying this

195 demon trains? i know all about those

complete ur scheme. say somthing cool. pass out. kdj ur self parody at this point

rotation: recency bias is a hell of a thing. i want to partially tie up the parenting stuff with noting how often the constellation incarnation relationship was considered parental, how kdj views them (and indeed how weve seen quite a few be) really cruel, or exploitative, and well thats fitting for him to see that as parental isnt it. but then also. he has kids in his own care, and one is literally his incarnation. frankly im interested in both how attacking and dethroning gods is gonna impact his own godhood deal, his own parenting, and his view of his mothers job of parenting him

im not sure if i have any particular takes here but let it be know kdj is a bastard and a scoundrel and i shall not miss him. not from this distance. no but god that was a classic really jerk move level manipulation. need to re-calibrate the dials. whats worse is at this point i think he can fully understand how much emotional damage hes putting his loved ones through.

Also did you know we live in a society. this one is pretty nascent so far but the breaking of the Seoul dome is reminding us of normal human society, and its flaws, and with the demonic realm, blatantly stated, we live in hell on earth.

#some shit #orv blogging #this works better when i do the last bit first ahaha #god its long tho sorry it made more sense when i was doing on fri and sat both but #also used mentol joint creme and my wrist and elbow were just static while doing this lol #i have one last thought thats drifting jussst out of reach #smth. oh idk emotional paid moments. almost cry at work moments #*pain

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smutty-ki113r · 4 years ago

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🌐Discord🌐||

Comfort one-shot reader x creepy pastas (Slenderman, Jeff, Toby, E.J, BEN, Sally, Masky, Hoodie, Jane and L.J.)

Inspired by: The living tombstone

You woke to excessive yelling, turning over and pushing the pillow over your face groaning. The voice got louder and you felt a pair of hands shake you awake, throwing the pillow at them you found that it was Toby. He let out an abrupt gasp and continued to jump around the hotel room. You understood why he was so excited, it was the first day of your trip to Disney world after all.

I know it seems unconventional but you had managed to convince slender to let you guys go. Obviously it was on Halloween weekend, the only time they could go into the parks without being questioned for their looks. That day you would all be going to Epcot.

Masky was probably the most excited about that park even though he had an expressionless face on the ride there. He had been so against going, at least it seemed like it. But you saw him putting ciggarates in a fanny pack when getting ready to leave.

Smiling fondly at the memory you got up and dressed. After breakfast you all drove to the park, seeing the Halloween decorations in orange and black with the shapes of Mickey Mouse. You groaned at the bickering going on in the third row of seats with Jeff and E.J, who was trying to convince Jeff to leave his knife in the car.

“They’ll stop you at security” you called back to him.

“I can hide it” he protested.

“Jeff they have literal metal detectors” E.J rebutted.

“What if I put it in my pants” he said smartly.

“NO” you yelled. After a death glare and a small tug of war between him and E.J he left it. He walked at the back of the group, slumping with his hands in his hoodie pocket. At the entrance the whole crowd was met with “oohs” and compliments about your “costumes”.

There was so much to do, but Hoodie (secretly Masky too) and BEN wanted to go to Spaceship earth. They were all so amazed on how there was a ride inside of the Epcot ball.

“It’s an XXL golf ball” BEN kept saying, convinced that there was nothing inside. There wasn’t much wait but since you were all a big crowd it took a bit to get in. Slender had the hardest time getting in the cart, he had to crouch excessively to fit. You rode with BEN, who was really excited at first because he thought there was going to be a drop but it turned out bore him. He thought it was going too slow, and so he had the bright idea to tamper with the manuals. “Time to spice things up” he said rubbing his hands maliciously. At one point all the carts started spinning, he lifted his hands and “wheeed”. You could hear Sally yelling from the back with Slender holding her in the seat since there was no restraints. At the end he scolded Ben, rushing him out of there as the cast members apologized for the inexplicable inconvenience.

He came out of there with a proud grin, cackling as he pointed out the dumbfounded face E.J made in the picture and the one with Jeff with his tongue out. The smiling killer joined him, watching Toby spin from the dizziness- it was pretty funny though.

Slender admired the late October scenery until Sally pulled him into a stand and graced him with a Mickey Mouse hat. Jeff was yet another unfortunate victim of Sally’s plan, wearing the mickey ears that had a pastel veil. BEN was throwing fits of giggles at this, but you knew Jeff was fucking insecure so you put on ears along with Sally.

The first country you stopped at was Mexico, where you went inside the pyramid. Jeff traded his ears for a big Mexican hat, Ben too. They played with the maracas while Toby, Sally and Hoodie went into the glass shop. It was a recipe for disaster, but you followed regardless. Sally tried on every. Single. Princess crown while Toby looked at the glass pieces a bit too closely. He started ticking while holding one, even though the sign said not to touch them. It flew across the store and collided with a whole other shelf, all of them broke and he started apologizing furiously as Slender messed the employees’ mind to make him forget about the accident.

He had to pull Toby out of the store and drag him to the boat ride, you patted him on the back daringly as he had the guiltiest look. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea for slender to go on the boat ride, he was far too tall and had to bend his knees to look like a grasshopper while Sally smiled and sung along with the cartoon characters. When you got off you could hear Slender mumbling something about his back.

Norway didn’t have much to do but Sally begged to go on the Elsa ride, Hoodie accompanied her happily. Toby as well, but he was really enthusiastic about the songs- he knew all of them. Him and Sally harmonized during the chorus for “let it go”. Since there were a shit ton of little kids there L.J was about to combust. Surprisingly he stayed super silent with occasional grumbles, making mental notes for when he got out of the park. He had to ditch the group to shop for Candy, which he found in China.

Jane was absolutely fascinated with the Zodiac garden there, watching the beautiful plants in the morning sun. Masky tried to relax by watching the show inside the pavillion but Toby caught up to him. He really couldn’t sit still and Masky had to scold him for sitting on the rail he wasn’t supposed to sit on. After, you found E.J playing with Sally with the marionettes and BEN with a cup of Boba. He seemed to be enjoying it- a lot. It was the funniest thing to watch him suck up all the tapioca stuck in the ice, his cheeks got super red and you couldn’t help but let out a laugh.

Jeff was gladly giving Toby his Mickey Mouse ears. In the afternoon you moved to Italy, where L.J was getting complimented for his “stilts”. There wasn’t much to do in Germany or America so you guys went to Japan. Laughing Jack was a lost cause, going straight for the candy while Jeff was mesmerized by the samurai swords. He was looking around to see if he could steal one, but how in the world would he hide that- definitely not in his pants. You caught on quick.

“Just ONE” he pleaded with you as you pulled him away from the glass. “Don’t do this to meeee” he screeched at you like a starved man asking for food.

Trying to throw hands and hit you while you grasped onto his hoodie. You managed to bring him with you as you walked out of the store. Passing by Masky who was trying to get away from Toby- he was fanning masky with those big fans. Jeff sat sourly as you ordered food, a stressed Masky came soon after. He was glad to have some quiet from the ruckus outside, enjoying a meal with you. When he was done he went outside to have a smoke from his fanny pack.

Going back to the store with Jeff on a tight leash AWAY from the swords you found Sally playing with the plushies and L.J taking packs and packs of candy. You stood and stared at him as he loaded up on the strawberry gummies. “What?” He deadpanned as a few fell down from his pile. You just laughed and helped him hold some of them, putting them in your backpack and walking out of the store because- y’all are criminals, and you steal.

It was now late afternoon, and you only had a few countries left to complete the full round of the park. Toby got lost in France, you all spent about twenty minutes looking for him and apparently Slender too who disappeared soon after. Then out of some room came one of them.

“where where you?” Jane asked.

Slender stepped forward “at the show, there were some magnificent castles and I think I’ll have to visit. Maybe even take ideas for house redecoration” he nodded.

Then out of nowhere appeared a cast member holding the hand of one shaking Toby, whose eyes were puffy and cheeks red. “Did you lose this little boy” she asked slender, he shook his head yes and gave a sigh.

The lady was in absolute awe of the group, especially daddy dilf slender. “How IS it that you see through that mask” she mused, taking slender’s head in her hands even though he was super tall. Her mouth was open as she pulled him super close to observe his (non-existent) face. BEN was snickering and you looked back and forth to see slender pretty flustered at the lady’s proximity.

“Leave him alone” Jane smacked BEN behind his head and took him by the ear. You followed them to the U.K. She threw him in one of the phone booths and held the door so he couldn’t escape. You could hear him complain from inside “let me outttt” he said muffled. Jeff caught up and went into the one on the opposite side, playing with the buttons on the dial. When Slender came back he took out a Camera to snap pictures of BEN and Jeff. You stood to the side while he did, obviously both of them didn’t notice. They were pretty candid and when they saw what was happening they ran out of there, only to have their spaces replaced with Sally and E.J, who had to pose with her for the picture.

The sun was starting to set and you guys only had a couple things left to do, one of which Jeff almost exploded in wait for. He wanted to try test track so bad, the line was gruesome and he tapped his foot impatiently in wait. BEN kept tampering with the car parts on display, making doors open and lights flash in boredom. Toby waited outside with Slender because he had anxiety around going too fast in a car and possibly reliving trauma. Jeff, on the other hand, was so excited when it was finally time to go on. He let you sit next to him in the front with BEN in the back. The ride was entertaining sure but the best part was probably Jeff’s face at the end. The car went so fast that Jeff’s cheeks were pushed back with the wind, stretching out his carved smile and flapping as he waved his hands in the air.

Then when it ended he wanted to steal one of the cars from the display.

“I can turn it on and take the safety off” BEN tuned in cheekily.

“Yessss” Jeff said with a fist pump, “which one should we get?” He asked.

“The red one” BEN decided.

“Guys nonononon” you tried complaining but they were dedicated.

“Stop complaining” BEN said, distracting you while Jeff snuck up on you from behind. Covering your mouth with his hand and restraining your arms with another “This is for not letting me take that knife”.

Picking you up and throwing you in the backseat of the car before revving the engine. With tears of joy in your eyes you saw Slender appear in the rear mirror of the car, tendrils waving around in fury. If BEN wasn’t dead yet he would definetly be now, Jeff turned paler than usual. Thank goodness he saw what was going on. They were about to drive off in one of those Toyotas- forget about mass murder, they were about to commit grand theft auto.

Next was the Nemo ride, but BEN was absolutely petrified of being near water so he waited outside with Slender-who very much could not fit in that shell car as much as he tried. Sally really liked it, she went with Toby and you went with Jane. Masky and Hoodie went together. Needless to say all of you enjoyed it very much, and the aquarium after was great too. Jane sat where she could watch the Dolphins and you could hear Toby and Sally’s footsteps running around from tank to tank.

“Do you think Slender will let me take a shark home?” He asked Masky, who told him no. But when they were outside Toby went straight to Slender. “Can I take a pet home?” He pleaded. Slender gave him a strict no but Toby continued to beg, “how about a seahorse?”, “not even a starfish?”. He got shot down but quickly recovered when you guys went to Soarin.

All of them- they loved flying. Even through it was just a ride, it was exhilarating. Passing through the sea and waterfalls, even the castles where Slender would have smiled at (if he had a mouth). Toby yelled like a mother fucker the whole time, luckily Masky was sitting next to you and hoodie- away from earshot. Jeff got the bad end of his shouting, making a face like he was about to murder poor Toby. But the brunette was so distracted by the lights and scenery he didn’t notice. E.J was pretty fascinated too, the height scared him a bit- he was used to being on the ground. Then you all shared some food from the cafeteria and went outside to watch the light show from Canada.

It was such a nice moment, with the sun already set and a hazy glow lingering in the air. You took a deep breath in, the ambiance felt like something unreal. The Epcot ball was illuminated by purplish lights in the background and across the lake you could see all the countries monuments lined with white lights. Slender had Sally on his shoulders so she could take in the view. It made you so happy to be with all of them in an instance like this. You looked back to find L.J eating his candy. With BEN and Hoodie next to you, Masky was leaning on the railing with his elbows next to E.J. and Toby was about to fall asleep. He got pretty startled when the fireworks started, but Sally’s eyes lit up with happiness. She cheered as you watched the group, it was such a kindling time with them. You couldn’t wait for the next day of the trip.

#ben drowned #slenderman #creepypasta #jeff the killer x reader #jeff the killer x you #creepypasta masky #sally williams #brian thomas #eyeless jack x you #eyeless jack #eyeless jack x reader

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kentos-filmcamera · 3 years ago

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10 times, 1 occasion - Inumaki Toge

2. Gift

A/N: aaaaa i woke up to a lot of notifs, i’m so glad everyone is liking it so far! thank u sm for reading! just a quick clarification, I’m setting the reader as non binary; i will be using mostly they/them pronouns and sometimes she/her but i will avoid to do so. happy reading!

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

“Megumi!” You called, waving to the underclass man. He offered you a tiny smile and a wave back. You let go of Toge’s hand to pull him into an embrace. “You’re taller! How much you’ve grown, my boy!” You’ve known him since forever, way before you met your fellow second years. And you always loved to pester him.

“I’m the same exact way since you last saw me” He deadpanned as you pinched his cheeks, his voice as plain as you remembered it to be. You only laughed and ruffled his hair, earning a groan.

“Where’s my hug?” You heard the voice of Gojo Satoru resonate through your ears for the first time in a while, and the most annoying phrase in existence was what he chose to say.

You turned to look at him, unimpressed, your expression matching Fushiguro’s. You were met with his usual cheeky smile and raised brows. He extended his arms and did ‘grabby’ hands as children did. Oh my. This man was annoying; and to think you even considered you missed him in the first place.

“Up your ass” You replied and moved his arms away from nearing your torso. He gasped dramatically and pouted like a wounded puppy. You only gave him a pat in his shoulder “Glad to see you’re... Well, alive”

“Don’t speak to Gojo-sensei like that!” You heard a foreign voice, the same one you heard from a far moments ago. You turn to look at the boy with the pink hair with a raised eyebrow. Something in your head clicked, as did your tongue. You pointed at him.

“Sukuna’s vessel” You said. Even up in the mountains the hottest gossip was the kid that ate one of Sukuna’s fingers and actually withstanded to house the spirit inside him. It was the talk at the dinner table for weeks. Your sister was specifically interested in it one night, making her spill hot soup all over your lap when she was in charge of serving everyone that night.

“Itadori Yuuji” He corrected. You stared at him up and down and gave a tiny smile and a nod.

“And this is Nobara Kugisaki” Panda indicated to you, as you turned to face the ginger that looked at you with gleaming eyes. You waved shortly before introducing yourself to both.

One of their faces lit up “You got attacked by a special cursed spirit last year right?” The boy you recognized as Itadori spoke. Your face blanked and drained of any color as you tensed. The only remedy you found was to nod, your jaw clenched shut as Inumaki reached in to rub his hand through your shoulders. It relaxed you, but you didn’t remember him being this touchy before.

“Idiot! You don’t remind other people of their trauma!” Kugisaki hit him in the back of the head, noticing how your attitude shifted in seconds.

“But! It was awesome! You were the first first year ever to expand a complete domain!” Itadori protested, but he slumped realizing how far you were. Your eyes looked as if they were in another galaxy, your mind taking them far as you spaced out. You hated doing it, but it came rather involuntarily when you were avoiding getting hurt. “You’re so skilled”

“It wasn’t awesome. I—“ You sighed, and accepted the compliment, your mind returning back to the scene. “Thank you. I’ve been training since I saw my first curse” You gave a light thankful bow to him before turning to Toge “Walk me to my room?”

“Sake” He nodded, and led you ahead. Panda passed onto you the duffle bag and gave Inumaki the remaining handbag as you two walked in silence towards the second year building.

Your room was exactly as you left it, except for the made up bed. You remembered that morning clearly; you had always been an organized person, but when Maki pulled you out of your bed for what would be your last mission for a while, you didn’t have the time to fix it before leaving. As you looked around, you heard the sound of bags hitting the floor and the generic sound of typing on an electronic keyboard. Then your phone vibrated shortly on the pocket of your jacket. Taking it out, you read the new message.

[ Inumaki Toge: i laid the bed after you left. i knew you wouldn’t like to find it all messy after all this time ]

“Thank you” You spoke as a response. You stood in place, arms crossed and thought. Inumaki chuckled at your tongue poking out from the corner of your lips. “You’re right. I wouldn’t have liked to find the bed unmade after months” You smiled briefly at the warmth spreading through your chest, opened the windows and looked at your space.

On the bed, your new uniform was laid down, awaiting your return. You asked for both the option of wearing pants and a skirt, depending on the type of mission, you settled with what seemed more comfortable. Your closet was empty, as you didn’t know for how much you were going to be away, except for a few pieces you stole from Maki’s closet. Everything Toge gave you, you took with you, and you wouldn’t take things from Yuta without his permission. You looked at the picture on your nightstand of the five of you, taken by Gojo as you exited a training session. You laughed with Panda as Maki, seemingly angry elbowed you in the ribs, Inumaki and Yuta enjoyed the moment quietly, both smiling. Fitted on the inside edge of that picture frame was a strip of pictures you took at a carnival, in a picture booth with Inumaki before exorcising a curse haunting the house of mirrors. One of the most difficult, terrifying missions you could have ever taken, in your first year nevertheless. But getting some Italian food sponsored by Gojo’s wallet at 2 AM on a Saturday was a great way to end the night.

“Heh, look, you had spiky hair” You mentioned, taking the picture strip out of the frame and handing it over to the boy, who passed you another picture from your board by your desk in exchange. It was a selfie Gojo took with you and Maki, as he found you both sneaking in after getting piercings and tempura in Shibuya, taking Ijichi as hostage to drive you there. Remembering the event, you flipped down your septum, and checked for your five lobe piercings and your helix. Due to your family’s cursed technique, piercings were more than cliche, but on the ear, not on the nose. You opted for a septum for whenever you had to hide it. Your phone vibrated again.

[ Inumaki Toge: i always liked that piercing on u. u look very cool ]

[ Inumaki Toge: you’ve always looked cool :)) ]

“You flatter me too much, Toge, thank you” You turned away to hide the blush on your cheeks. Soon, you received a tap on your shoulder. You faced a flustered Inumaki with a dianty box in his hands. “Uh, you shouldn’t have, I—“ You were perplexed, trying to find the reason why he would give you a present.

“Bonito Flakes” He insisted, shoving the gift into your hands and pointing to the door with his head. He wanted to give you some space, to read the letter and to change back into your uniform.

“I’ll be quick, I promise” You gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek before he rushed to leave the room.

You prioritized changing into your uniform, deciding for the navy high rise wide pants with slits on their outer sides going from your mid-upper thigh to the bottom of the piece, made for better movement in battle. You buttoned up and tucked the navy jujutsu high jacket, of which you wore a shorter version, with a classic white collar from your button up peeking out from underneath. You scouted your bag for the tiny chain you hung from the eyelet of the collar, it was a family heirloom, a protection chain; if anyone touched it in battle, your cursed technique of choice would come into effect. Besides, it made you look more classy.

You fixed the puffy long sleeves, the form and the material more breathable, flexible and comfortable for you. You reached out to your closet and fitted the white patent ankle boots, almost tripping while doing so.

“I’m okay!” You shouted back, responding to a soft knock on the door. They were similar to Inumaki’s own shoes, but more stylish. In general, you were more stylish than him; or anyone else in both campuses. You finally fitted your black arm band, which had strapped in a box of needles, a rather thin rope and some thread.

You sat in your bed and took the box between your hands, circling around your fingertips. You removed the decorative bow and cut through the sealing tape with your fingernails. In between the folds of tissue paper, you found a golden ring. Your lost ring. It looked different, but you could recognize that oval shaped emerald anywhere. You touched it several times to check if it was real or not. And it was. You rushed to find an explanation to this, prying the letter open with your fingernails.

“Hi,

As I’m writing this, I’m not sure when you’re coming back. Or if you’re even doing so. Writing this letter gives me hope for your return, as so did getting you this welcome back gift. It’s the ring you took so much pride in owning. Oh, well, part of it. I remember how you got rushed to the infirmary, wailing, touching your damaged hand to see if you had your ring. But you didn’t. I went back to the scene myself that same day, and the next, and the one after the other to find your missing jewel. When I found it, it looked terrible. It was dirty, bent, and the emerald had a crack in one of its corners. It took me some work, but I found someone that could restore it. It’s the original stone, and the original material but it had to be reshaped. I know you like signets, so I hope you can find appreciation in this one too.

You looked once more at the piece and let out a teary chuckle. You had suffered so much the loss of that ring. It was a present from your grandmother, now deceased. You hated yourself incessantly for losing it. But now, it was back in your grip. You slipped it into your ring finger and before continuing your lecture, you fanned your under eyes to avoid ruining the hint of makeup you currently wore.

If you’re reading this, I am so glad you’re back. I missed you, so so much. I’m glad to see you in good health. And I’m sorry everything happened the way it did. You didn’t do anything wrong. I know how you feel. Please trust me. Thank you once more for allowing me to speak to you through written words. You’re the only one I want to write to, anyways. I don’t have the patience for anyone else. Welcome back, cookie.

I love you.

Yours, Toge”

#jujutsu kaisen #inumaki #inumaki toge #jjk inumaki #toge inumaki #inumaki x reader #jjk fluff #10times1occ

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unbridgeabledistances · 4 years ago

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hello! <3 once again will not have a new full-chapter update of ✨ian and mickey take over the alibi✨ fic for a day or two, but wanted to post this little fluffy preview featuring the first appearance of our girl bazooka gallagher-milkovich!!! hope u enjoy:’)

—

“Hey, Mick. C’mere. Look at this one.”

Mickey glanced up from where he was elbow-deep in a series of sudsy dishes in their too-small kitchen sink. Once again Ian had made some sort of pasta dish for dinner, with tomatoes and basil and some fancy fresh mozzarella (that he was surprised the little dingy grocery store on the corner even carried)— and even though Mickey grumbled about “fucking gourmet bullshit” and “I’m fine with ramen, man,” he’d still helped himself to multiple scoops of second servings while they’d eaten their first meal at the little circular table from Ikea they’d assembled earlier that afternoon.

Now Mickey was on dish duty— Ian was trying to get the two of them to divvy up household shit equitably, since the usual rule at the Gallagher house was “leave dishes in the sink until they start to smell, then blame someone else for them”; and Ian was leaning back in his chair at the table, scrolling through pictures of various dogs on the websites of the local shelters— when one listing caught his attention.

Pit Bull Puppies, Chicago area NEED HOMES FAST, 8 months old

He clicked on the link—there were a series of images of dogs from the same litter, most of them already claimed. Ian scrolled to the last available listing, holding up his phone for Mickey to see as Mickey strode towards the table, wiping his hands on a dish towel.

“Look, she’s got blue eyes. You guys match.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Stop being soft. Gimme your fucking phone.”

This friendly pittie comes from a troubled past and needs a loving home. She was found in a barn outside the city that is well-known for illegal dog fighting along with her brothers and sisters. She isn’t trained yet, and needs someone patient to give her a loving and active environment. She’s a sweetheart, and because she isn’t trained we would love for her new family to give her a name!

Ian saw a crease form between Mickey’s brows as he read the listing. “Sounds like a lot of fuckin’ work.”

Ian could sense Mickey’s hesitation, his gut impulse to immediately put a barrier between himself and this new, fragile thing to take care of, especially after their conversation the other night— but beyond that, he could also see that Mickey didn’t even believe himself as he said it. It was an impulse response, for Mickey, to immediately put up walls— and it was getting easier and easier for Mickey himself to be the one to tear them down.

“Yeah, but it’ll be fun. We can go see her if you want, decide if we think she’s a good fit.”

Mickey swallowed, his eyes still fixated on the picture on the phone screen. “Yeah, but it’s got, like… y’know. Trauma and shit. What if we fuck it up even more?”

Ian smiled. “We won’t fuck her up, Mick. We’ll give her a loving home with two dads and a shit ton of dog toys.”

Ian saw the gentle worry creeping into Mickey’s eyes at the word “dads”—and, okay, maybe that was too soon. Mickey had said he’d be fine getting a dog, and was excited about it the whole time they’d been furniture shopping—but in a weird way this did feel like a trial run for a kid, in a way they were both hyperaware of. There was so much there—this was Mickey’s first real try of taking care of someone that was totally dependent on him, after years of shutting out and pressing down those dark chapters of unwanted fatherhood.

Except it wasn’t just Mickey taking this on; it was both of them, together. Ian tried to show him that, as he reached a hand out to press against Mickey’s lower spine in a grounding touch, pulling him closer.

“Hey. Wanna just visit, to see if we click with her? It’s just a fucking dog, and an excuse to see some adorable puppies.”

Mickey rolled his eyes, then pursed his lips. He stared at the picture again. “Yeah, whatever.”

“Thank you so much for coming by—this sweetheart is the last of the litter, I’m so glad you both saw the listing so quickly!”

The dog shelter employee, a caricature of a kind-faced middle-aged midwestern woman wearing a cardigan and khakis, led them through the well-lit hallways, turning them into room filled with scattered dog toys and two folding chairs.

“This is our little meet and greet area, we’ll bring her in just a moment.” She shut the door behind her, leaving Ian and Mickey in the mostly-empty room.

Mickey’s eyes darted around curiously. “This doesn’t look like a fucking dog shelter, man. It looks like a preschool.”

Ian smirked, settling into one of the chairs while Mickey remained standing. “It’s a dog rescue center, I guess. Probably run by lots of people who are way too into the dog thing.”

Mickey shrugged, capturing his lip between his teeth contemplatively. “Whatever. And they’ll just let us take it home? If we want it?”

“Yeah.”

Just then the door creaked open—and in came the shelter worker once more, carrying a bundle of grey wrapped in a worn towel. She placed the puppy down on the floor.

“Like the listing said, she doesn’t have a name yet—but here’s our girl!”

The puppy rose to stand on her four legs— a little grey pit bull, with ice-blue eyes and a too-skinny frame, the lines of her ribcage jutting out through her thin fur. She was tiny—definitely smaller than Ian had realized from the pictures, and definitely smaller than an 8-month-old pit bull should be based on the bits of googling he’d done on the L ride over.

The puppy stretched her limbs out long, then stumbled over her too-big feet slightly to race towards one of the dog toys in the corner of the room. Once she captured it in her mouth she circled back contentedly and flopped down on the floor in the middle of the room, starting to chew on the corner of the bone sleepily.

“She’s so little.” Ian crouched on the ground— and he could tell he was doing that little baby-voice thing he always did, where his voice went up ten pitches and went all fuzzy around the edges that Mickey always gave him shit for, but in this moment he didn’t particularly care.

“Hey there, girl. You’re such a sweetheart, aren’t you?”

Ian could tell Mickey was rolling his eyes behind him. He reached out a hand to pet the puppy’s fur—it was soft, velvety and warm. Slowly, the dog inched closer and wriggled herself to sit pressed against Ian’s lap, letting the bone fall out from the corner of her mouth and nestling her chin to rest on Ian’s upper thigh.

“She’s a little sleepy,” the shelter worker added. “She’s been pretty mellow since we received her, but we think with some good nutrition and some exercise she’ll have loads of energy. It’s just a matter of getting her back into good health.”

The scrawny puppy was sleeping now, her chin still tilted on Ian’s leg and her eyelids drooping shut.

“Mick, d’you wanna pet her? Her fur is so soft, it’s ridiculous.”

Mickey bit his lip again, staring at the scene from where he was still standing a safe distance away, a few paces behind where Ian was perched on the floor.

“Yeah, guess so.”

He kneeled beside Ian, tentatively reaching a hand out to stroke the dog’s head— almost like he was scared he’d hurt her, like he was scared he’d do something wrong. The corner of Mickey’s mouth ticked upwards a bit at the contact with the puppy’s soft fur— and then he rubbed her head again, giving her a gentle pat. The puppy’s eyelids lazily opened, her tail starting to sweep side to side against the linoleum floor.

“Uh. Hey there.” Mickey chuckled uncomfortably, but his uneasiness was starting to melt away. “Do I gotta, like, talk to it?”

Ian grinned. “You can do whatever you want.”

Mickey ran scratches against the dog’s scalp, then down her sides.

“She’s kinda skinny. I can feel her fucking ribcage.”

Responding to the touch, the puppy lazily rolled over onto her back, exposing her tummy to welcome belly-rubs. Mickey grinned, and reached out to scratch at the puppy’s tummy.

“You’re a pretty girl, aren’t you? That’s right. Yes, you are. Such a good girl.”

Ian smirked—and filed Mickey’s puppy-talk away in his mind as something to make fun of him for later; but not right now, when Mickey was still learning to do this, when the defensiveness and self-judgement had only just drained from his system and he was still second-guessing his every move.

The puppy nudged her wet nose into Mickey’s hand and licked at his palm; and Mickey laughed, almost jolting in surprise. His eyes crinkled as he looked over at Ian.

“This is the friendliest fucking dog I’ve ever met, man.”

Ian felt his lips curve into a smile. Of course Mickey hadn’t met dogs that were this bubbly and friendly; half the dogs he’d had exposure to were chained in Southside front yards, trained to rip each other’s throats out and bark viciously at people walking by. Ian hadn’t really been near many dogs either; but seeing his husband immediately melt in the presence of a puppy, the innocence and awe seemingly radiating off of him, made something warm pool in his stomach.

“Yeah, she’s pretty special.” Ian reached a hand out to try and pet at the puppy’s head, and she turned her neck to nip at Ian’s wrist with her pointy puppy teeth.

“There’s some of that feisty energy we’ve been hoping for.” The shelter worker smiled knowingly. “Are you two interested in taking her home?”

Ian lifted his gaze from the squirmy puppy rolling on the ground between them to meet Mickey’s eyes.

“Mick?”

They called Debbie to pick them up from the shelter, since the logistics of taking a brand-new puppy on the L with them without a leash or collar seemed like too much to handle, even if she would probably just sleep the entire time. Debbie had spread an old towel in the back next to Franny’s car seat and Ian plopped the puppy into the middle seat, opting to sit shotgun next to Debbie while Mickey kept Franny and the puppy company in the back.

They were almost back at the Alibi now, and Ian was half-listening to Debbie prattle on about what slobs her new roommates were, and how she had half a mind to U-Haul with Heidi— when he tuned in to Franny and Mickey’s conversation in the backseat, the puppy sleeping soundly between them.

“What d’you think, Little Red— what’s the best dog name you can think of?”

Ian noticed Franny furrowing her brows from where he could see her in the rearview mirror. “Hmmm. How about… Queen Justice? That’s the name of my favorite wrestler. And the name I gave the fish Mommy got me.”

Mickey chuckled, and Ian raised an eyebrow at Debbie, cutting her monologue off mid-sentence. “Wait, you got Franny a fish?”

Debbie sighed. “Yeah. I felt bad about the move, and Monica and Frank never gave us shit like that when we were little. Figured I’d try to be a good mom or whatever.”

Ian smiled, reaching out to softly punch her in the upper arm. “That’s actually kinda cool, Debs.”

In the backseat, Franny was still thinking out loud.

“We have to name her after something you like, Uncle Mickey. That’s what Mommy told me about naming Queen Justice. What are your favorite things?”

Ian twisted in his seat to turn towards Franny and join the conversation. “Probably beer and guns, but neither of those things make good dog names, Fran.”

Mickey raised his eyebrows. “Oh yeah? Here’s a fucking relationship quiz then, lover— what’s my favorite type of gun?”

Ian rolled his eyes, contorting even more in his seat to twist and face Mickey. “I don’t fucking know, Mick.”

“A bazooka, bitch.” Mickey ran his hand over the sleeping puppy’s silky fur, scratching behind her ears. “Bazooka Gallagher. Or Milkovich. Or whatever. That’s a pretty good fucking dog name if you ask me.”

Ian felt a smile creep onto his face. Bazooka. “That’s honestly kinda perfect.” He reached his arm into the backseat to reach at the puppy. “Hey there, Baz. You like your new name? You ready for us to take you home?”

Bazooka’s eyelids drifted open, her tail starting to drum against the back of the car seat in a reaction to all of the attention. Franny reached down from her car seat and gave Baz a little peck on the head, and immediately Baz started licking all over Franny’s face, making her squeal and laugh and wriggle in her car seat as Baz shifted to stand on the seat and leaned closer to Franny’s face.

“It tickles! Uncle Mickey, she’s licking me!”

“Allllright.” Mickey reached to scoop the puppy off of Franny, wrapping Bazooka back in the discarded towel on the carseat and holding her like a baby in his arms. He scratched at Baz’s head again, then smoothed down her fur.

“We’re gonna take you home real soon, Bazooka Gallagher-Milkovich.”

#xoxo love u all #have not been able to write much after the Events of this week but this happened to day and i was happy about it!!!!!#also i love that i am truly just writing about.... my own dog as a self-insert shameless character lolol #how did this happen #shameless #shameless fic #gallavich fic #gallavich fanfiction #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #debbie gallagher #franny gallagher #ian x mickey #ixm #bazooka gallagher milkovich #gallavich

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voiceswithoutlips · 4 years ago

Text

Calico - Chapter Three

— pairing: Hybrid ot7 x Human Reader (Female) — genre: hybrid AU , fluff, angst, slow burn (like real slow), eventual smut — word count: 1.8K — Rating: M — warnings: trauma, mention of past abuse.

Click for Tag List

— chapter summary:

Y/N runs a animal shelter, Calico was built on a simple principle, to help those who were in need. What will Y/N do when her sanctuary is threatened by an unexpected hybrid?

— A/N: This is going to be a series, I’m just getting back to writing, so I’d really appreciate your input and feedback <3

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3.5 Ch. 4 Ch. 5 Ch. 6

Yeah, you fucking with some wet-ass pussy

Bring a bucket and a mop for this wet-ass pussy

I woke up to WAP blazing through the house at eight in the morning. That was the moment I knew I was going to kill Jason. Well, not literally, but there will be payback.

It was Monday, my favorite day of the week. Mondays have such a bad reputation for absolutely no reason. Personally, I liked a good Monday, it was the day when I organized the rest of my week. In case you are wondering, yes, I’m a nerd and the sight of stationary makes me drool. I got ready quickly, I had planned lunch with Song Hwa today, and after that DOBBY WAS FREE!

“JASON,” I screamed as I stumbled into the kitchen, “you are so dead.”

“Nah, you love me too much!” He laughed. How dare he!

“Who told you that? Just you wait, one of these days I’m going to disown you, you brat!”

Jungkook was sitting at the table eating cereal Jason must’ve gotten him. At least one of us was functional. I could barely take care of myself. Jungkook had gotten a bit more comfortable with us over the past week. The first two days he had stuck to his room but then I introduced him to our PS4 and he was hooked. The kid was a natural. He was wearing Jason’s clothes that were a size too small on him. His eyes widened at my murderous declaration. He was so cute.

“Don’t worry bunny, I won’t kill him ...yet,” I narrowed my eyes at Jason. I still couldn’t understand how we ended up becoming friends. Jason and I were always at each other’s throat when we were in college. Not a day went by without us going head to head, don’t even get me started on the mountain of assignments that we had to do as a punishment for disturbing the peace.

“I’m going out today, do you want to come to the town with me? We could get you some new clothes, and maybe some ice cream, we are running dangerously low,” I asked while sipping on some overly sweet coffee. I mean, I could buy clothes for him but first, I had no idea what his size was, and second I had no idea what his style was. I myself was a walking fashion disaster, if it was socially acceptable I’d wear pajamas every day, to every event but alas! This world is cruel to those who can’t match their clothes.

Jungkook nodded his approval and after our not-so-filling breakfast we left. It was a 2 hour ride to Seoul and on the way I pointed out landmarks in case Jungkook ever wanted to go out on his own. I made a mental note to teach him how to drive. The aircon was on full blast, it was summer, the grumpiest of all seasons.

I was wearing black sneakers, black jeans and a black hoodie like a goth pauper. Jungkook was wearing Jason’s oversized hoodie and jeans, a size smaller, that hugged his lower body like a second skin, I had to constantly remind myself to keep my eyes on the road. Hey, I hadn’t gotten laid in months, not that I’d ever look at Jungkook that way, he was just a kid, even if he had the body of a Greek god.

“Here we are, bunny, you gotta follow some safety guidelines okay?” I said as I parked in front of the mall.

He nodded. I wondered when he was going to start talking comfortably. Was he just shy or scared? Or both?

“First, don’t go anywhere alone, stay in my sight. I don’t want to lose you. And second, let’s hide your adorable ears,” I leaned over and pulled the hood over his head. He blushed, I almost cooed at him, why was he so cute. Be still my heart!

“If it gets too scary, just hold my hand, okay?” I said as we walked in through the doors. It was a good day to go shopping, there weren’t as many people on a weekday. “Go on, you can buy whatever you want, I’ll follow you around,” I grinned, his eyes were darting around from shop to shop.

“Can I?” he asked nervously.

“Of course honey,” I encouraged patting his head.

We spent the next two hours going from store to store. Jungkook was hesitant at first but after he realized that I had meant what I said he got excited. He’d take something off the shelf and run over to show me, he did that with every single thing that we bought. I was having the time of my life looking at him having fun, he was like a kid in a candy store. I wondered how excited he’d be if I actually took him to a candy store, I mentally added it to my to-do list.

He was still non-verbal, which was making me worry. Was he uncomfortable with talking? Was he nervous, scared? I kept wondering. The only times that he had spoken, his voice was small and unsure, as if the words he was saying held the weight of the world.

We ended up being late for the meeting with Song Hwa. The shopping bags barely fit in the trunk but somehow we achieved the unachievable. She had called me in to talk about Jungkook’s case, she had done some research and she insisted on talking in person. It worked for me though, that meant I could take the day off and relax.

Song Hwa’s office was in one of those big commercial complexes. We had her on retainer but she worked for one of the biggest law firms in the country. Jungkook grabbed my hand as soon as I opened the office door. He was sniffing the air furiously, fear on his face. I peeked through the little crack that I had opened. There was a man sitting across from my favorite lawyer. I had seen him around Song Hwa’s firm, he was one of her colleagues. I had no idea why Jungkook was afraid of him, he seemed perfectly normal to me, but then again I didn’t have superhuman abilities unlike my bunny.

His voice got closer and the door opened. As usual, my brain stopped working. I grabbed Jungkook’s neck and pulled his head on my shoulder to hide his face. Song Hwa and the man stepped out of the office and looked at us as if we had sprouted a fifth head. It must’ve been a sight, us holding hands and Jungkook’s face buried in my neck. I just looked at Song Hwa who made some excuse to the man in the beige suit to get him to leave. I was too embarrassed to register what she had said.

“Is he gone?” I whispered, before Song Hwa could answer, Jungkook nodded in my neck. I stepped away from him, still holding his hand. “I’m sorry, are you okay?” another nod. He was redder than a tomato, I guess he was twice as embarrassed.

“What the fuck?” Song Hwa’s expression matched her question. I sighed. I told her what happened as we sat down in her office.

“His name is Brian, he is a sleazebag and a coward. I wouldn’t worry about him,” Song Hwa reassured Jungkook. I didn’t like it, I could see how scared and uncomfortable Jungkook was. He hadn’t let go of my hand and he was clutching it as if his life depended on it. We ended up leaving her office and going to a nearby restaurant for lunch. It was well past noon and I was starving, I’d bet my Bleach collection that Jungkook was starving to. I was used to skipping meals and starving until I got a hunger headache but I couldn’t do that to him. I sucked at taking care of people.

“Here,” Song Hwa handed me a newspaper while I was stuffing some fries in my mouth. She had highlighted a small article, just a paragraph not worthy of front page news. It was about a stolen lab equipment from an Apexi lab. There was no mention of a hybrid.

“Please tell me this is good news,” I said through clenched teeth. Even though I knew it was terrible news, I could always hope. A multinational pharmaceutical company doesn’t just hide the fact that their lab animals were stolen along with a hybrid and their research destroyed. Unless it was something big.

“It's not and you know that,” Song Hwa had terrible bedside manners.

“Let’s talk about this tomorrow, today we feast!” I tried to sound enthusiastic but I failed terribly. Worrying about it would only ruin the rest of the day, not like I could do anything about it at the moment so I decided to ignore the screaming voice in my head and focus on the delicious meal that had suddenly turned bland.

Jungkook had fallen asleep on our way back. His head was resting on the back of the seat, eyes closed, soft lips slightly parted. Every time he scrunched his nose my heart made cooing noises. How was he even more adorable when he slept, I could watch him for hours. His hair was covering his forehead, I had forgotten about his haircut. I wondered if they were as soft as they looked. I lightly ran my fingers through his hair, yep, his hair was super soft. I felt like a stalker so I mentally shook myself and focused on the road.

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poodlejoonas · 4 years ago

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Aleksi - Fur Baby

For @bcfanweek Day 6: Aleksi Kaunisvesi

Words: 1,559

Description: You and Aleksi take the next big step in your relationship - adopting a dog together.

Notes: Aleksi Kaunisvesi/Reader (gender unspecified)

Aleksi took you totally by surprise the night he asked if you wanted to adopt a puppy with him. It was your shared ritual that one of you will cook and one of you will clean, and tonight was your night to do the cleaning. The dishes were almost done when he strolled back into the kitchen, looking down shyly at the floor with his hands in the pockets of his basketball shorts.

It’s a rare sight whenever Aleksi is too shy to look you in the eye. He hasn’t done this since your first date, when he spent the entire dinner with his face blushed over in red. He was even more straightforward about asking you to move in with him than he is now. Whatever was on his mind had to be bad, so you prepared for the worst.

“Yes?” you asked, waiting for him to finally look you in the eye.

Aleksi finally looked up to you with a soft smile on his face. That relieved some of your concerns, but it left you with more questions than answers. “So I’ve been thinking -”

“Oh, that’s never a good idea,” you joked, to which he only responded with a short laugh. This kind of teasing is a common part of your relationship, so he took it with a grain of salt.

“Anyway, I’ve been thinking… I know we’ve talked about this, but do you think we’re ready for the next step?”

What’s the next step? Marriage? Buying a house and moving out of this little apartment? Aleksi had such a way with words, especially the words that leave you more confused than ever.

“What do you mean?”

His smile grew much bigger than before. “Do you want to adopt a dog with me?”

You nearly dropped the plate you’d just been cleaning. You mentioned in passing a few months ago that you’ve wanted a dog for a while. Both of you are animal lovers, so you hoped that someday the two of you could have a little fur baby to call your own. The look in his eyes meant that he was serious about it.

“Yes, Aleksi!” you practically shouted and ran into his arms. He caught you just before you nearly barreled him over. “Where do you want to start?”

He showed you pictures from an open-air rescue he found online. They had plenty of rave reviews about their shelter - the quality of the care, great customer service, adorable and loving dogs looking for homes. It was in a small town just outside Helsinki, with plenty of room for the dogs to live and roam. “Do you want to go this Saturday?”

That left you with four days to get everything you needed to bring the new fur baby home. Money was no problem, and all you needed was a good shopping day to get prepared. You thought about it and nodded your head.

Aleksi smiled from ear to ear again. “Perfect.” With one last kiss, he disappeared to take a shower, leaving you waiting in the living room for him to return so you could enjoy a couple more hours together.

The thought of the pitter patter of tiny, furry paws around your home filled you with excitement. Saturday just couldn’t come fast enough.

Aleksi merged off the highway just a couple miles away from the shelter. It had just begun to heat up outside, so both of you wanted to be home with your new family member before it became sweltering. The box in the back seat sat empty in wait, lined with an old fleece blanket to make the ride home more comfortable. You wiggled in your seat and Aleksi couldn’t help but notice your excitement.

“Patience,” he said through a laugh. “We’re almost there.”

The shelter was even more pleasant than you could have imagined. It was colorful and inviting, and you could hear the sounds of the barking dogs playing outside. A shelter employee greeted you at the door and asked what they could do for you.

“We’re here to adopt,” Aleksi started, and right away she knew exactly where to take you. She told you everything you needed to know about getting the paperwork started and gave advice on how to pick a dog that was right for you. They had 45 dogs at the time, all of whom had been surrendered or rescued from difficult living situations. She also warned that some of them had some form of trauma, either from neglect or being separated from their previous owners.

After the talk in the office, she took the two of you outside to interact with the dogs. One by one, each dog ran to you to vie for your attention, in the hopes that you would take them home. Some of them were big, like a husky named Cyrus who nearly knocked you over while you were sitting. There were some that were small, like a Pomeranian named Teddy who just bounced all over the place.

“Aleksi, why is this such a hard decision?” you complained, petting one dog in each hand while a third climbed onto your lap.

“I really want a big one but can it even live in our apartment?” He then laughed and pointed to a Boxer who was staring him down. “This one’s called Tommi.”

“You’re kidding!” You had to look for yourself and sure enough, the name tag showed that this dog shared its name with Aleksi’s bandmate. “He even looks a little bit like him.”

Aleksi snapped a picture to send to the band group chat. He was surrounded by just as many dogs as you were, struggling to keep them from licking and crawling all over his face. He looked like he was in heaven, and quite frankly you couldn’t blame him. “What do you think so far?”

It wasn’t that none of them had caught your eye yet - your real problem was that all of them had. There was no way you could pick just one, especially knowing that you would have to leave the rest behind. “10 more minutes?” you asked with a pleading look on your face.

“Sure.” Aleksi couldn’t resist it when you gave him that look. He threw a couple toys around, seeing which ones he felt he could play better with. You asked a few questions about the backgrounds of your favorites so far to see what help, if any, they would need to readjust to their new home.

The shelter door connecting to the playground opened and another employee came out holding a Dachshund. She placed the dog down on the floor, who immediately shook her entire body and carried on towards the crowd. This dog was a round one, not to the point that it affected her mobility, but she looked like she’d been fed well. She was dark brown with beady eyes and large ears that flopped down at the ends.

As cheesy as this sounds, laying eyes on this dog was love at first sight for you. She came up to you and when you went to pet her, her first instinct was to raise her own paw for a high five. She caught Aleksi’s attention, who called your name and turned his left arm over. It was his arm with his “small town” tattoo, one that he got so he could feel like he carried home with him wherever he went. And right on the street of that hometown was a weenie dog who looked exactly like the one in front of you.

“She’s perfect,” was all he had to say. He read her name tag out loud: Seidi. “We have to have her. Please?” You thought it was endearing that Aleksi fell more in love with this dog than you did.

Of course you couldn’t say no, the prediction of your meeting was literally inked into his skin. You gave each of the dogs around you one more pat before you stood up and held Seidi in your arms. “We want this one.”

“Perfect!” The two employees took you to the front and guided you through the rest of the adoption process. You looked down at Seidi and she didn’t miss a beat on trying to kiss your face. “She’s been waiting for her forever home for three months now,” the girl commented. “I bet she’s glad to have a home now.”

Aleksi smiled proudly. “We’ll give her a good one.” Your heart hurt thinking that Seidi had to wait so long for someone to scoop her up. But at the same time, you were grateful that she’d waited around to come into your life.

Out in the car, Seidi turned around in her box and sat down, panting but it looked like there was a smile on her face. Aleksi pulled out his phone and got closer to you, close enough to get you in the shot but with a gap so Seidi could fit in the shot too.

“@alexmattson: On our way home with the new baby! Everyone, say hello to Seidi Kaunisvesi. Isn’t she cute?”

You hadn’t gotten home yet before he was flooded with loving comments. Seidi would need some time to get used to your home, but she’d already filled a spot in your home you never knew was missing.

Endnotes:

A gift for my favorite resident Aleksi stan, @gncvillain.

#blind channel #aleksi kaunisvesi #alex mattson #bcfanweek #blurbs #in ches' own words: aleksi please adopt a fat weenie dog with me

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thegreatshippingwar · 4 years ago

Text

Was it worth it

Summary: Based on the movie "Don't breathe" But with Yandere Jack Morrison/ soldier 76

Warnings: Rape, death (not you), murder, swearing, impregnation, messed up logic, blackmail

You remember your first meeting with him, it was pleasant. He was a nice blind ex military man who had just moved after the death of both of his children. Rumour said it was a drunk driver, but you didn't want to preye on anyone's trauma. When you first interacted with him it was when you had made him a house warming give the day after he moved in. It was an apple pie, you figured nothing could go wrong with apple pie. Your Parent(s) had said it was rude not to give a welcoming gift to your neighbour, it was a bit old fashion but you didn't mind.

The apple pie was warm to the touch as you knocked on Mr Morrison's door. It didn't take long for the man with white hair and red glasses to open the door. "Good Morning sir, My name is (Y/N) (Y/L) and I live next door." You realized quickly it was maybe best to say the number so he knew which side. "(N/H). Anyway I baked an apple pie here to welcome you to the neighbourhood. I hope you like apple pie?" You started to get nervous he was handsome. Scars litter his face and he was buff for an old dude. You started to blush thinking about him working out trying to keep fit. You pulled yourself out of your fantasy quickly as you realised he probably had a wife.

"It smells delicious." His voice made your heart jump it was smooth but had a rough undertone. "I'm surprised though not many people welcome new neighbours these days." He shifted on his feet before holding a hand out in your direction. "Especially someone so young."

You giggled, hoping to giggle away your nerves as you handed him the pie. "You're right with that. But I guess I'm just old fashioned."

Mr. Morrison was stoked to have you for a neighbour not that you knew. He thought you voice was angel like, he could listen to it all day. So he quickly tapped his red glasses to unblock his vision. He was using the glasses for training and to appear to be a weak blind man to be less suspicious. Looking at your hair looked smoothed to the touch. You were Beautiful he thought. Not to mention you said you enjoyed the old fashioned ways, something tightened below and Jack had to ignore for the sake of continuing the conversation. When you handed him the pie he felt your soft hand brush against his.

A cold shiver went up both your spines, Jack mumbled something that you couldn't hear. "I hope you enjoy, and if you need anything I'm just next door."

Jack could think of many things he could need you for, one included you on the floor right now letting him fuck you. He sighed knowing a pretty thing like you probably had someone who would take care of you. Hell if Jack was younger or not pretending to be blind he would absolutely have pouched on the opportunity to care for you. "I'll do that then."

_______________________________________________________________________________

Months had passed since Mr Morrison had first moved in and other than his dog's loud dinner bell it was peaceful. You only visited a few times mostly to bring him some food if you made too much, which he appreciated. You enjoyed the small moments with Mr Morrison despite it feeling like you would prefer him to your current boyfriend. You seemed to be comparing them a lot and you all too quickly thought Mr Morrison was a better man in general.

Andy wasn't a bad boyfriend but you did question his choice of friends. You knew two of his friends were low key thieves that stole from houses. But they never took too much Andy had said. Only enough to survive since their families kicked them out. You felt sorry for the two but all ways had a feeling there was more to the story then they let you believe.

After many days deciding where or not to break up with Andy you decided you could do better. Besides, you didn't want to involve yourself in what his friends were doing. They always seemed to be up to something. It would be quick and hopefully he would move on.

You were trusting, Mr Morrison had said so as well. When you broke up with Andy he did not take it well. He yelled and screamed and begged and when that didn't work he blackmailed you. You don't know when he took it all you knew was disgust. He had take a photo of you naked which was weird since you hadn't even had sex with him yet.

You were scared and when you asked what he wanted your heart sank. He wanted you to help him and his friends rob Mr Morrison. He figured you would be good at cracking the safe he had as you had shown off at a party when you met him that you could crack nearly and safely. You wished you hadn't learnt that skill, you wished you hadn't fallen for his tricks. Andy just wanted you to get money.

You felt physically sick but once he said he could tarnish your clean record you caved. He threatens not only the naked pictures but photoshop pictures of you doing drugs. So you agreed, despite how nice Mr Morrison was you had no choice. You were too trusting.

__________________________________________________________________________________

Entering the house was harder than anyone of the four of you thought. Ken who had got a spare key to Mr Morrison's house somehow was deemed useless immediately as there were more locks and keys then the one Ken stole. So Hugo had to pick each lock carefully. Andy had told you that Mr Morrison had well over $500,000 because of the drunk driver killing his kid. Andy had told you that the drunk driver had killed Mr Morrison's wife and unborn child and in order to get out of jail their parents paid a lot of money to the court and Mr Morrison.

You feel worse knowing you were robbing Mr Morrison because that accident landed him with money. But it was too late to back out once you were in. "Take off your shoes they'll make to much notice." Ken whispered, "If his is blind his hearing will be better."

The whole group take off your shoes and leave them by the back door. You were especially quiet. Hugo walks up stairs toward Mr Morrison's bedroom. He has a hand made sleeping gas bottle ready to puncture and gas Morrison room. You see Hugo disappear as everyone waits in the lounge room for him. After about 2 minutes he returns. "All good?" Andy asks while whispering.

"Yeah, just he seemed to toss and turn once I punctured the bottle. But he's locked in the room now with the gas."

You don't say a word as Hugo and Ken walk straight towards the basement door that has a lock on it. Hugo gets out his lock and picks again and starts to unlock the door only for Morrison to show up on the staircase. Morrison is wearing his cloudy looking red visor glasses, a tank top and some sweatpants. He heads to the Lounge room, Hugo looks to the group and pulls out a gun. "What are you doing here?" Morrison tills his head a little as you cover your mouth with your hands. You can't be caught now.

"I just walked in dude, I might have had too much to drink." Morrison steps closer to Hugo and Hugo panics shooting near him, "Stay back and I won't hurt you." But Morrison does the opposite and moves quickly towards Hugo. Before he can even shoot Morrison disarms him and holds the gun in his hand.

You stand frozen as Morrison points the gun in Hugo's face and calmly asks. "Who else is with you?" Ken bolts for the door only for Morrison to hear him and shoot him straight in the head. You want to cry, scream anything but you force yourself to be quiet. Hugo apparently didn't know that Ken was most definitely dead.

"Just me and my buddy." Hugo is staring at you, just before the guns goes off in his head. You and Andy stay quite. Morrison rushes to the front door and locks everything before moving to the back you and Andy move upstairs. You move into his study, your shaking but you manage to keep yourself quite. Your crush just murderer two people, he was worse than Andy.

Andy points to the desk which has a safe on it. He moves towards you. "Open it, we have time to get it and leave."

"He just killed two people what if." You cut your whispers short, as Andy points a gun at you. "Okay," tears fall silently as you open the safe to find at least $5,000 in there. You help Andy pack his bag with it.

"I bet there is more in the basement," Andy's greedy eyes stare at you before opening the study door silently. "Besides there is probably a window you can exit from there."

You follow slowly carefully, scared to make a single sound. You make it to the lounge room, seeing Morrison dragging Ken's body into his mud room near the back door. When he comes back Andy accidently makes a squeak against the wooden floor. Morrison stares towards you both. His red cloudy visor seemed to glow in the dark room. You steady your breath as he walks closer. Then you hear Hugo's phone go off, startling Morrison so much he shots it. Silence fills the air as Morrison sighs before grabbing Hugo's body and moving it.

Once he moves out of the room you both head to the basement. A dim light fills the basement, and you move quickly down the stairs. The room is filled with shelves, most of the shelves have boxes on them or file-like books. You move towards the dim light to find a fridge with a few benches around. There is a turkey baster on the left side of the fridge.

While you investigate the fridge Andy is looking at the shelves. "What the fuck?" Andy whispers but you're too busy opening the fridge. A strange liquid in a large container is the only thing in there. Andy moves to your side, " I'm finding a lot of military stuff, but also baby books? What the hell does he want with that." You point to the fridge container and Andy shuggs.

You decide to move towards this open space light area before you notice the lights turn on in the basement. You freeze before you stop. The lights are hanging over this Woman who is lunging at you. She is in a patted semi room and she has a harnse like a dog on her. Tears are falling down her face and you move your way towards her.

___________________________________________________________________________

Meanwhile

Jack was having a bad night, he has to get rid of two bodies. Two idiot robbers decided to try and rob him. Although he was annoyed at first he's glad now having got to experience to kill while blind folded. He can't wait to rub it in Reyes face that he can kill with his eyes closed. But knowing Reyes he might just train himself to do the same.

Cleaning up the bodies was the worst, god he wishes he was doing anything else. Thoughts of you smiling at him thanking him for protecting the neighbourhood and then giving him a special reward help him get the job done quicker. This wasn't the only time he used you to help him through his tasks. He honestly wished you'd help him normally, but you were always distant. Maybe it was your stupid boyfriends fault, god he hated the man. He would enjoy killing him the second he got a chance.

Jack heads to the back door making sure it's locked, before tripping on a shoe. Jack freezes before bending down and feeling around four pairs. Which means, Jack grabs one of his shotguns and heads to the basement. He hopes they didn't set the bitch free. Jack then hears the bell ringing from down stairs. "God damn it"

_______________________________________________________________________________

You set her free of her harness using a knife and she gives Andy a newspaper clipping. Andy's face falls as he reads. You pull off her gag and she silently weeps into your shirt. She clings to you before steading her words. "He said since I killed his kid I needed to replace it. He....he.....he," She is staring towards the fridge and turkey baster.

You feel sick but you pat her head before whispering, "Lets go quickly." Andy nods his head, apparently he didn't want to look for any more money. You pull her out of the room only for a bell to ring, you look behind her and see her leg is still tied to a wire. You assume pulling the wire pulls the bell. You quickly pull out your knife as her face pails. Once you cut it you all rush for the basement door.

A shotgun sounds and you become imobie as you watch the girl fall over. Andy grabs your arm and heads back towards the shelves. Morrison carefully checks the girl's body. "Shit," Morrison seems pissed. "All that wasted effort." You watch him tap his glasses and the cloudiness seems to clear. Andy is hiding you both behind some shelves. "One of you is a women right?" You hold Andy's shoulder tightly. "How about you give me the woman and you can go free?"

Morrison is moving up and down the shelves, his posture has changed. He doesn't seem to need to touch anything with his hands. He's different. "I could just kill you both, got plenty of women nearby to replace that bitch." Jack thinks of you, god he wishes he could tie you to him.

Morrison reaches for a remote in his pocket and presses a button and all the light gets out. Andy grabs out his phone and sets the volume to max, he then plays a video from his phone and throws it across the room. It just so happened to be a video of you singing a nursery rhyme. You both hear Morrison let out an audible groan.

"Fuck," Jack regonises that voice anywhere, "(Y/N) boyfriend right?" God, Andy was dumb. "I think I'll enjoy killing you and your side whore." The video ends just as Morrison picks it up, you are slowly getting to the stair when another video plays.

"Fine, I'll do it." Your voice again plays, "Just don't, Don't show anyone those photos"

"Got it, wouldn't want (Y/N)'s reputation ruined by false rumors and a nude." Andy's voice was mocking. But you could hear your tears clearly even with the phone's shitty quality. Morrison all but grows before turning the phone off.

"You forced yourself on her." Jack was pissed, apparently she hadn't touched the dickless jackass sexually so he was forcing her. Jack was pissed. Jacke turned the light back on. Cat and mouse was over. He wanted him dead.

Morrison rushed over to where your legs were. The shelves may have hidden your bodies but not your feet. You ran for the stair as did Andy, but Andy wasn't fast enough as you heard him scream in pain. "Fuck," You didn't look back and contunid running for the stairs only for an arm to grab your leg and pull you uside down. Your head was facing his knees as you wiggled and started crying. Your whimpers filled the room, but you stopped the second you heard Morrison groan. You looked up at him and noticed his hard on. You wanted to scream but when you saw his face you did otherwise. He was holding his other hand over his mouth. He seemed to be mumbling something, you could see a slight blush on his face.

You panicked, "I'm so sorry, I'm sorry. He made me. He said...he said....'' Your rambles were cute. It seemed to ground Jack, so that's what the black mail was for.

"Have you had sex with him?" Jack needed answers.

"I...I..." You fumble over words, "No, we never..."

Jack pulls you right side up and smiles, "good." He walks over to the padded semi room and gently puts you down in the middle. You notice Andy moaning as he crawls to the staircase, his legs are bleeding. Morrison pulls out a pistol and shoots Andy quick in the head, seemingly too busy to deal with him. He walks over to one of the selves and grabs a box to bring over. You know you should run but you're scared. Plus you know you won't make it to the door, Morrison is too fast and strong.

Jack opens the box and reveals a brand new harness. He brings the harness closer and you move away backing up into the room. "Come now sweetheart don't be difficult." He slowly approach low to the ground, little approaching a rabbit. "Please sweetheart," He gently grabs your arm and you freeze. You keep screaming at you body to move to run but you can't. "That's it" He all but coos in your ear as he starts to put the harness on you. "That's my good girl."

Jack clips in the locks and chains making sure you won't be able to escape. He looks down at your fearful eyes. They all but glow a bright (Y/E) in the light of the room. He can't wait, he thought he could but not anymore. He slowly moves to a pulley lever and somehow you find yourself in the air off the floor.

"You know she killed my kid right? I had always wanted a family and the 'wife' was expensive. I only wished for the kid to make it but my kid was killed by that 'bitch'." He hisses 'bitch' like she was poison on his tongue. "I decided she would have to give me a kid to make up for the one she killed." He looks over to the turkey baster. "I never touched her, never wanted to. But now she's dead." He looks you in the eyes and you notice he somehow got scissors and you freak out. You wiggle as hard as you can. "I'm glad he forced you to rob me. Do you know why?" You refuse to speak and keep wiggling trying to get out of the harness. "Baby," His hands are on your ass rubbing it slowly, tenderly. "When I ask a question I want you to answer." The threat was clear, so you swallow your pride.

"Why?" More silent tears,

"I wanted you, and now I have a good reason to keep you chained to my side. Don't worry too much once I trust you we can have you out of the basement. Once we move of course." His hand moves and he brings the scissors to the front of your pants. "But let's start by making a family." You wanted to scream but only a squeak came out of your mouth as he removed your pants with the scissors. "Adorable," He chuckled before moving to cut your shirt off.

"Please," He stops for a second, "stop." Jack leans forward pulling your hips towards his painfully erect clothed cock. He hums before kissing your forehead.

"Don't worry baby, I'll be gentle." He smooth voice runs a chill down your spine. God no, you wanted to wiggle and you tried but his voice stops you. "Baby, stop trying to ryell me up I won't hold back otherwise."

Jack starts with your clit, rubbing it till you start squeaking and moaning. He enjoys himself too much seeing you like this. He knows he's going to be addicted to this, to you. But he can't help it, he starts kissing your lips hoping to comfort you a little. He all but melts into the kiss, it was just so sweet and soft.

You feel fireworks at his kiss, you hated this you kept telling yourself. You didn't want this, but the longer he stayed there kissing you and playing with your clit the more your reason seemed to slip. You decided to just enjoy it and worry later.

Jack waited until you relaxed a little before entering a finger in your hole. He groaned into your ear as he did it slowly. You were so tight, he was a little worried. He started pushing it in and out and you started falling apart moaning louder and crying less. Jack wanted to enter you now, but he had to be patient. "Please?" Your lusted out look broke his patients.

"Sorry princess." Jack pulled his finger out and quickly stripped. He then aligned his penis in front of your hole. His left arm wrapped around your waist as he moved his mouth next to your eye. His right hand took off his glasses. Beautiful blue eyes greeted you with lust, you looked away towards his member. His dick was big, that you knew. He dick's was leaking and the veins looked angry. His right hand stabled his dick as he slowly pushed in, moaning into your ears. You screamed it was painful, he was too big and you weren't prepared. You started screaming for him to stop, that he was a liar, anything you could to get him to stop but he didn't listen. At least not till he was all the way into you. "Good girl, good job princess. Such a good girl for daddy."

You kept crying as he kept praising you. You learnt quickly that Morrison was just going to do whatever he wanted without your consent. After a little bit Jack decided to grab your waist with both arms and slowly push out. He hissed as he pulled out your tight warm hole was too welcoming, too comfortable, it was heaven. He had to get back in the moment he was out. He started to fuck you faster and your screams didn't stop him or put him off. He honestly loved your screams although he wished you were moaning instead. So Jack moved his right hand to your clit as he managed to wrap his left arm around your body to keep you close. Your tits kept rubbing against his chest as he pounded into you.

Soon enough once you felt your clit being rubbed you began to moan. Pleasure and pain where combining and god you just wished it over. You were beginning to enjoy this horrible experience. Jack's lips found yours again and this time his tongue invaded your mouth. You thought he might slow down his pace but no. He was able to kiss you, rub you just right and pound into you. "Please," You all but moaned as you realise the white tingling feeling builting to your climax. Jack was all too happy to pick up the pace. You felt bruises forming on your hips with how he was gripping them.

"come on baby, Princess cum, cum on my fat cock." His speed seemed to stagger, "Cum on daddy's cock." You feel His cock twitch inside you just before your overwhelmed and moan as you cum. You pussy tightens around Jack and he can't hold back, "(Y/N)" He growls as his warm sperm spills into your abused hole. He pants on top of you for awhile before calming down.

"Finally I have my perfect family."

#yandere Jack Morrison #Yandere Soldier 76 #yandere x reader

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commonwealthoccurences · 4 years ago

Text

Companion HCs: Adopting Shy!Teenager!Sole

Note: Sole is 13-14 in this, therefor it’s completely platonic! I’m disturbed that’s something I have to clarify but I’ve been on Tumblr long enough that I’ve Seen Some Nonsense.

Cait:

She may not have her shit together at first but she’s determined to be the best parent possible and give Sole everything her parents never gave her

She takes things slow when it comes to getting them to open up and tries to moderate her tone and temper; asks them simple questions to get to know them and tells stories to them (PG ones, of course)

Ferociously protective. If anyone, and I mean anyone, comes near them with ill-intent she flies off the handle.

And maybe part of that’s her projecting the fact that she wished someone protected her when she was young, but she also simply never wants them to feel scared or upset or as if she won’t protect them

Gets them something to keep with them so she’s always with them, even when she has to go somewhere and they stay in Sanctuary, like matching hats or little charms she might’ve scavenged from a collapsed store

Hancock calls Cait mama bear when she flies off the handle at Flynn (rightfully so. Hancock tells Sole to turn away and takes care of that problem like he does canonically)

Cait starts calling Sole little bear after that

Teaches them how to defend themself right away; she never wants them to feel powerless if she’s not around

Cleans herself up to better herself for them; she absolutely refuses to turn out like her parents and therefor goes cold turkey from alcohol and chems

It’s hard as fuck, but Sanctuary comes together to support her

Cries when they tell her they love her and call her mom the first time

Also teaches Dogmeat commands for intimidation so if Sole’s alone they have someone else to be intimidating

Sole definitely grows up with a bit of a take-no-shit attitude. They also know their worth and won’t be walked over

Curie:

Delighted to help out Sole

She definitely tries to get them interested in the sciences, but if they aren’t, that’s okay

Initially she goes on walks with them around Sanctuary and asks them questions about what they like

Picks flowers with them and teaches them how to dry/preserve them

She deals quite well with their shy silence and doesn’t try to start conversations too often; she tells stories without expecting responses and makes sure to subtly encourage any talking by showing great interest

Teaches them French, which comes in handy when they’re in Diamond City or Goodneighbor and they need to let her know they’re anxious or uncomfortable

As soon as they let her know what will soothe their anxiety around other people, she does it without hesitation (buying stuff for them, etc)

They have their own little house in Sanctuary together with a small garden

She teaches them the scientific names of the flowers and what they need and gets them a journal to write everything down; loves encouraging their curiosity and gets excited when they ask questions about anything

As soon as they show an interest in something she throws herself into it with them

Tells dad jokes but doesn’t know they’re kind of terrible; Deacon encourages this and fully enjoys the looks on Sole’s face

Deacon’s the fun, loud uncle

Lots of hugs from Curie as long as Sole’s okay with it, she’s very physically affectionate

Danse:

Kind of a stereotypical dad in the fact that he doesn’t really do great at verbal affection but their trays are always loaded with food and they always have something once they show interest in it

Can vibe with the shyness. He’s quiet, they’re quiet, and he finds no reason to try and get some conversation out of them

They can both be quite awkward but it’s fine

Not great with physical affection either

If they show interest in repairing armor or guns or shooting he’s through the roof with excitement

Constantly glaring at everyone who looks at them even a little bit sideways

Honestly has scared the shit out of some people just by his expression

Builds them their own size-scaled power armor

If they gift him something, even if it’s just wildflowers they found, he accepts it quietly and once they leave he cries

If they call him dad he also cries quietly

“There’s just something in my eye.”

Desperately wants to be a good parent and is kind of insecure about it

Has check ins with them where they have a healthy discussion about if he’s upset them in some way or if they’d prefer he deals with something differently

The first time they travel on their own he’s worried out of his mind, as if he didn’t raise a soldier of a kid (not in a bad way, but they’re more skilled at self defense than most adults)

Sole probably inherits a rbf from him

Deacon:

The fun parent

He can be serious though

In the beginning he tries to overcompensate for their quietness by being his loud, bombastic self

When that doesn’t seem to work he gets the memo and tones it down and relaxes

Honestly they get to see the “real” Deacon pretty soon

He’s naturally joking and loud, however he doesn’t relax and just exist with someone very often

That’s what he does with sole, though, and they open up more after that

Unfortunately they’re exposed to the things the Railroad deal with quite early on, and the shit that goes with the Institute

He makes sure they’re capable of defending themself but it’s quite scary to know that an organization wants your family dead

He makes sure to reassure them that nothing will ever happen to either of them

When they start to open up more he allows himself to act more like he does with the Railroad around them

Takes them on fun disguise runs

They’ll come to realize that they’re low profile stake out missions, and he just didn’t want to leave them behind

Always makes sure they eat first; he’s dealt with food insecurity before himself and part of his protective nature is making sure they know he’ll do everything in his power to make sure they never experience that

Matching sunglasses? Absolutely.

BEAMS when they call him dad

Gage:

Probably the most reluctant parent out of all of them, to be honest

The raider lifestyle is the worst nightmare for a child; for a week he tries balancing things, since it’s all he’s known, but he very quickly gets them out of that situation

Changes their appearances and moves into Sanctuary. Preston’s suspicious when he avoids talking about his past but accepts them

He’s also extremely quiet around the new settlement, so they’re a matching pair

As protective as Cait, that’s for damn sure

Asks them questions quite often to make sure they’re okay: “Did you get enough to eat, kiddo?” “Those boots fit okay?” “Are you warm enough?” “She didn’t bother you, did she?” “Are you tired?”

Doesn’t take offense or try to pry when they give one word answers; he gets it

Not much for physical affection either but if they seek it out he gives and reassures them they’re not bothering him. If they hug him he pats them on the back and says “Thanks for the hug, kid.”

His first gift to them is a gun and knife

He means well

If they call him dad he will get emotional but doesn’t cry

Will cry years later when he thinks back on it; they’ve softened him up somewhat

Encourages them to hang out with Preston and learn about the Minutemen. It’s valuable experience and while he and Preston aren’t exactly friends they respect each other and he knows that them knowing him will be a good experience for them

Reluctant when they find Dogmeat but lets them keep him when they ask; they don’t ask for much and it’s never something ridiculous

Fondly refers to him as a mutt

Eventually ends every night by giving them a sideways hug and kissing them on the top of the head. “Goodnight, kid. See you in the morning.” Before they head to bed

Hancock:

Initially a disaster parent

He has no idea what he’s doing and his lifestyle isn’t set up for bringing in a kid

He cleans up pretty quickly. He doesn’t use drugs if they’re around, but he continues smoking cigarettes.

Seeks out Nick for advice

Sets them up with their own room and makes sure when they ask for something he jumps to get it; not to the point where they become entitled and spoiled but God he wants them to be happy and know he cares

Makes sure to enforce that you respect everyone unless they disrespect you, no matter where they come from

Everyone in Goodneighbor makes sure their drug use and drinking is done out of sight of Sole; their usage is their business but Hancock won’t accept them being a bad influence

Eventually almost everyone in Goodneighbor knows and takes care of Sole affectionately. They respect Hancock and respect Sole equally

They started referring to Sole as the Boss as a joke on Hancock, but Hancock, after laughing his ass off, agrees and the nickname becomes permanent

Once again, Sole grows up the opposite of entitled; they’re very hard working and respectful and that’s why Goodneighbor loves them so much

Hancock gifts them a necklace; it’s a wide circle, about the size of an American dollar coin, with a cutting of the fabric from his coat in the center, sewn tightly around the circle.

Eventually he introduces them to what it’s like to run Goodneighbor and involves them in the decision making

MacCready:

Another kid? Done.

He knows there’s a lot of kids out there he can’t help and he takes Sole under his wing without hesitation

He hasn’t raised a teenager yet, but he treats them with respect and always asks their opinion and if they’re comfortable

Adds another bullet to his cap after a couple days

He’s worried their shyness is the result of trauma; there’s no way anyone in the Commonwealth doesn’t have it, but he hurts at the thought of them going through

something particularly horrific

Doesn’t try to bust down their walls and get them to open up

Instead, he remains quiet and lets them come to him

Smiles to himself the first time they call him dad

Perfectly open to physical affection and is quite proud of them the first time they ask for a hug

Probably retreats back to the community where he left Duncan rather quickly

His merc work isn’t somewhere for a kid and he probably turns farmer once they find the cure for Duncan

The first time Sole and Duncan bond over something he’s sobbing internally (cries externally too)

Eventually brings both Duncan and Sole back to Sanctuary; he knows the community there is good to raise them

Farmer!Mac with two kids and a small house and a dog? Adorable

(everyone in sanctuary agrees)

Uncle Preston becomes a thing and that’s his official title to the kids

Mac and he become good friends; Mac’s fond of people with good, solid morals and once he hears what Preston did/does for the Minutemen and the people they protect? Respect +100

Nick:

Good with kids, straight up

He’s lived in Diamond City with kids running around all over the place for a while, so he knows how to talk to them

Just treats Sole with respect and expects nothing from them (affection wise) other than the same back

Tries to keep them out of detective work. It’s depressing and he wants something more wholesome for them, as wholesome as things can be in the Commonwealth

Considers moving to Sanctuary and includes them on that decision

Takes on less risky jobs, he’s got someone to care for now

Ellie adores Sole as well and eventually co-parents, and takes over parenting while Nick’s out; whether she and Nick are platonic or romantic in this situation is up to you

Nick comes back one day and she pulls him aside to tell him Sole called them their parents and they both get emotional

He takes care to note what their favorites are; color, food, etc

More than happy to adopt Dogmeat, especially since he proves to be a good protector

Is worried about the fact that he can’t be around all the time. He knows Ellie’s a good parent, but he wants to be there for everything and he simply can’t be

Does have a couple talks with Sole about this to make sure they know he’s not trying to get away from them and he loves them dearly

Tells them stories about funny cases to make them laugh when they’re upset

Blows up at McDonough if he steps a toe out of line in Sole’s direction; McDonough wouldn’t dare kick him out and he knows that, he brings too much business in

Piper:

She takes one look at Sole’s face and the adoption papers are already signed, she doesn’t hesitate a bit

Overcompensates for the awkward silence by talking a bit too much, but eventually figures out they probably feel weird about that

If they and Nat get along she’s elated

Nat honestly brings them out of their shell a bit and it’s not uncommon to see Piper shouting after Nat and Sole running off, yelling for them to be careful and be back before dark

Stays in Diamond City

Sometimes asks Ellie to babysit; they’re good friends and Nick and her get along quite well

Can get a bit heated if anyone is rude to the kids

She’ll fist fight McDonough without hesitation if she has to, she doesn’t care

Not much changes in her lifestyle, she raises them the same way she’s been raising Nat and does her best

Preston:

Fantastic with people, it’s part of his job

Takes on the role of parent readily despite his internal panic

Worries he won’t be good enough; he’s never taken care of kids full time, and he knows being a parent is vastly different than babysitting

Definitely instills Minutemen morals in Sole; he won’t tolerate intolerance

The first time they get sick he’s full of panic. It’s a simple cold, but he refuses to leave them alone for even a second

Relaxes a bit

He used to be out of bed and immediately dress, promptly returning to duty

Now he’s still prompt but he walks around in his pajamas more

Relaxed with physical affection but never initiates; he never wants to make them uncomfortable or make them feel like he’s trying to force himself into the parent category

If they call him dad he’s walking on clouds for the rest of the day; the fact that they think that highly of him??? Amazing

Worries he’s not good enough but when people compliment his parenting he figures he’s doing alright

Honestly complimenting his parenting is the best thing that can happen to him

X6-88:

???????

Who put him in charge of this human and what is he expected to do with them????

Fumbles hard at first

Consults the scientists (who I’ll assume put him in charge of them) and eventually picks things up on his own

Institute scientists make the mistake of trying to instill things he doesn’t approve of after he grows attached to them and cares more for them than the Institute

Suddenly they’re missing a synth and his teenager

He knows the Institute like the back of his hand; they won’t find him. Ever.

Takes them to Sanctuary when he hears the radio and seeks out Preston

He respects Preston and the way he protects everyone, considering he feels that way towards Sole, and eventually, far down the line they become friends and platonic co-parents

X6 parents ¾ of the time, but he often seeks Preston’s advice in the beginning

Doesn’t particularly care if they call him dad; they’re family either way

Definitely asks them about and takes interest in their interests

Just wants them to be happy

Considering they’re pretty much his only family, he’s very attached to them; not in an unhealthy way but as they get older they call each other their best friends

#fallout 4 #fo4 #headcanons #companions react #fluff #Cait #Curie #Deacon #Paladin Danse #Gage #Mayor Hancock #RJ MacCready #Nick Valentine #Piper #Preston Garvey #X6-88

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