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attapullman · 2 months

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The Boys Are Back / Whodunit? Origin Story

Summary: When best friends and childhood sleuths Bob Floyd and Mickey Garcia grow up, everything seems less fun. Thankfully things are about to completely change for these two hometown goofs.

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: 18+ as always, language, 80s inaccuracies, sci-fi opinions do not reflect that of the author

A Note From Mo: As would be the only appropriate gift for providing the inspiration for Whodunit?, happy birthday @bobgasm! Thank you for loving these two as much as me and helping make their story as fun as it is. Wishing you the best birthday on New Zealand time (we'll be celebrating America time as well, don't worry 😉)

origin story / prologue / whodunit? masterlist

“Are you really trying to convince me that Return of the Jedi is better than The Wrath of Khan?” Mickey couldn’t wipe the look of disgust off his face at this zit-faced teenager at the counter. The two fairly recent box office hits were a common disagreement, and this kid came in thinking he knew all that and a bag of chips.

“Force lightning? Luke trying to redeem his father? Dude, George Lucas made the last two movies true masterpieces, cinematic perfection!”

Rolling his eyes, aware that this knucklehead has no clue who he’s going against (all the best film geeks in town knew to not go against Fanboy Garcia and his sci-fi knowledge), Mickey dropped the copy of Raiders of the Lost Ark into a plastic bag along with the receipt.

“The Wrath of Khan brought people to tears. Invested us deeper into the characters we’ve loved for years, grown up with. Spock’s death shocked an entire nation, no doubt about it. And don’t be stupid, Vulcan nerve pinch defeats Force lightning every time.” He slides the bag across the counter with a scoff. “Movie is due back Tuesday. Come back with some real ammunition next time, airhead.”

Cheeks red, the teen grabs his bag and scuttles out of the Blockbuster. The bell chimes and suddenly the shop is empty.

While the access to new releases and movies in the break room were great perks, Mickey was so over this job. The blunderhead teens with their gnarly opinions, the bratty moms who always complain about the return dates. It’s just renting a movie for a week, not that complicated. When was his cousin going to get back to him about that maintenance gig at city hall? The sci-fi fan slumped against the counter and continued watching the copy of Legend they just got in.

Across town, Bob was also struggling with his work day. When was everyone going to realize he didn’t set the price of parts? He wasn’t even really a mechanic, just a guy who needed a summer job in high school and never stopped coming in. A star employee, he enjoyed the puzzle of putting components together and the purr of a perfectly oiled engine.

It may not have been his dream job, but the free parts for his ’65 Mustang and the content silence he and his uncle worked in wasn’t horrible.

Two more customers come in and try the haggle the price. Neither are impressed with the calm way Bob explains the cost of labor and parts, rubbing his greasy palms impatiently on his coveralls as he breaks down why he doesn’t work for free. And when he asks if they’d like him to undo the work to cut the cost, pocketbooks are pulled out and he’s got money in his pocket for beers later.

His uncle is long gone by the time Bob locks up the shop with a heavy padlock on the garage door. His boots scuff in the dirt as he makes his way to the Mustang, her blue paint shining in the late summer sun. She was stunning.

The breeze whipped through his hair - too long for his mother’s liking - as he drove across town. Mickey was just opening the door to The Alibi as he parked on the street. The best friends tip their heads in greeting.

“Bobby.”

“Fanboy.”

The two slap their hands together. Palms first, then two slaps from the back, before looping around to fist bump. A handshake from elementary school that somehow has carried on twenty years. After a few drinks a shimmy will make its way into the mix.

They take up residence at the bar, the same spot they’ve occupied a few nights a week since they walked out of that Navy enlistment meeting and never looked back. The bartender always knows to hand out whatever’s cheapest unless they’re holding paychecks.

“How many people confuse Star Wars and Star Trek today?” The cutting glare Mickey gives him says it all. Probably not the best time to make a Darth Khan joke.

Lost in the clatter and whoops of the bar, the best friends mull over their meaningless hourly jobs and contemplate the meaning of ‘the man’. Bob’s leather jacket hangs off the stool back, the sticky air of the bar clinging to the twentysomethings’ skin. One beer becomes two, two becomes three as the weekend arrives.

A loose curl hanging over his forehead, Mickey makes eyes contact with a babe across the room. He’d happily spend the evening with those beautiful eyes. The only perk of this dingy bar is it’s the only one in town, and a mix of old classmates and new-in-towns keep the dating game fresh.

Bob himself does a quick look around at the night’s prospects, doing a double take. No, it couldn’t be. When did the police captain’s daughter get back into town? She shoots an amiable smile and nod back before turning to her own drink and friends.

Mickey raises his eyebrows at his bud. Bob shoves him off his stool on the way to the bathroom.

As the night progresses, only the young and the young at heart (and alcoholics) are still in their seats at The Alibi. The best friends are a handful of beers deep, leaning across the bar to chat with Mickey’s childhood neighbor, Tom - a gruff guy with a beer gut and a penchant for belching when he laughs. They love making him laugh.

“I tell you two about the rocks that keep showing up on my doorstep?”

Mysterious rocks? The boys lean in closer, their light denim-clad pelvises nearly over the bar top. Shaking their heads, all ears, they urge Tom for more information.

“Been happenin’ for months now. At first I didn’t think anything of it. Animals maybe? But they keep getting bigger and bigger. Tripped over one the size of a melon yesterday, stupid fucking rock. Belchhhh.” The boys snicker into their beers. “Can’t figure out who’s doing it. Gonna end up breaking my front step with a mountain one of these days.”

The boys exchange a look as they contemplate the conundrum. Who would just leave rocks on Tom’s doorstep? Wouldn’t it get old after a few weeks? And rocks of all things?

“It’s not that big of town. Who could it be?” Mickey cocks his head to the side. Tom has always been a nice guy. A little oblivious, but harmless. “Your ex-wife back in town?”

The bearded man shakes his head, scratching the underside of his belly as he realizes it’s time to call it a night.

As Tom goes to pay his tab, Phil, who’s been manning the bar at The Alibi since before LBJ was in office, spoke up. “You two solved mysteries as kids, yeah?”

The young men give him a perturbed look, confused why he’d bring up their silly sleuthing games from decades before. Hesitant, Bob nods. Who could forget the years spent hunched in random hiding spots, notebooks and binoculars at the ready. Mickey still had a scar from falling out of the second floor stairwell in the community center.

Tom is delighted, his drunken eyes lighting up. “Any chance you two could take a whack at figuring out who’s leaving all these fucking rocks on my doorstep? There’s a twenty in it for ya.”

It’s been…years since they last solved anything. Petty crimes from other classmates, some neighborhood drama, but that was before puberty. Did they still have the gift?

“Sure man, why not?” Shoulders are shrugged, hands are shook tipsily. They’d stop by in the morning before their shifts. Natural curiosity has them dying to see the assortment of rocks.

Tom heads out and the boys clink the necks of their bottles together, enjoying the last sip of the night. Who knew where this was going, but they were always up for a challenge.

A week later, the two returning sleuths are hunched over behind a bush with a pack of pretzels and a six-pack, mud caking Mickey’s new Air Forces. There’s cigarette stubs in the dirt and they’ve been arguing over the best flavor of Fanta for an hour.

In the wee hours of the morning Tom’s next door neighbor sneaks into his garden to place a rock roughly the size of a pumpkin on the front step. The shared fence issue Tom thought to be resolved? Definitely not.

Another neighborhood drama solved. Twenty dollars in their pocket.

But with the solve comes a burning itch that Mickey can’t scratch. Keeps him up at night, lives in the corner of his brain while he rents movies to bored-face teens. A blazing fire that can only be tended, not extinguished.

“What if we started our own detective agency?”

Bob spat out his ginger ale on Mrs. Garcia’s freshly cleaned granite countertop. Was Fanboy tripping?

“C’mon man, why not? Put up some flyers and solve whatever rinky dink shit comes up in our free time? Make some extra cash? We might actually be able to move out on our own. Don’t you want freedom?”

They’d been bitching about it for months, wanting to get out of their childhood bedrooms and actually do something with their lives. So the Navy wasn’t for them, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t serve their community in other ways. Maybe this was the answer to their unsure futures.

Bob grabbed his best friend’s hand, the decade-old handshake turning into a brotherly hug. “Just promise me we won’t get into anything too crazy. I like my Sundays on the couch.”

In six months they’d raised the cash for their own apartment, a small two bed in the dusky pink modular building off Main Street. In a year the amateur sleuths had been in the local paper twice. And two years and several police case assistances later, they stood across from the police captain’s daughter, not a smile in sight.

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hanasnx · 6 months

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she’s a good girl.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ WARNINGS: daddy kink use of the word “dad” | no foreplay | sexual content | fem reader.

“Can you pass me that ratchet, sweets?” KEVIN LEVIN asks, pointing vaguely in the direction of his tool box which is haphazardly disarrayed in a mess on the floor. You set your drink down—the one he bought you as penance so you’d stay out of his way while he worked—and creep over, carefully toeing over his propped up legs. If he pulled out from under the car now he’d see up your skirt.

“Sure thing, Dad.” you respond without thinking anything of it, bending over to reach into the toolkit. A loud bang makes you jump out of your skin, a full body prickle travels up your spine as he loudly curses. He kicks out, his foot connecting with the box to send it sliding, careening the garage door with a clatter. You watch it with wide, curious eyes. Before you get a chance to chase it, Kevin rolls out from under the car with a scowl on his severe expression and clutching his hand.

“What’d you just—“ he begins in an angry seethe, pained from whatever accident was inflicted on his greased hand. However, that glare in his face melts, taken aback by the view as you sheepishly stand over him like a deer-in-headlights. A light pink dusts the crest of his cheeks as he closes his mouth promptly, swallowing hard at the sight of your backside on display for him. Suddenly, he doesn’t care so much about the throb in his hand, and he certainly forgets your odd nickname, the outline of your cunt in your little panties at the forefront of his mind.

Another thing this car is good for—besides constantly breaking down without his gentle and loving maintenance—is how a pretty body looks on the hood. It takes no time at all before he’s thrown you on it, cooping you up there like a pin-up girl while he hastily unbuckles his pants. The mere sound of it dampens you, and you watch with bated breath and eager interest.

“You ready for me, baby? Didn’t wash my hands.” He glances at you, manhandling you into a closer position while the head of his cock nudges at the wet fabric over your pussy.

“Mm-hm, Dad, I am.” you reply without hesitation, clinging onto his arm as he keeps you up on the hood, your legs folded up on either side of you.

In the middle of those filthy fingers deftly pulling your panties to the side, his gaze meets yours deliberately with a couple spacey blinks. He shrugs it off. “You call me the weirdest shit.” Yanking the elastic aside, he strokes at your folds with his tip, and you whimper at the glimpse of pleasure. Getting fucked on his car is usually pretty rough, but nothing compared to this. Nothing compared to how he pins you down and fucks your brains out, big hands shoved under your backside to bring you into his harsh pace. All the while he’s breathlessly coaxing you in your ear, “What’d you call me again? Say that shit again… Wanna hear it… Gets you so fucking wet, you’re a fuckin’ freak, you know that?”

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dengaragedoors · 3 months

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Step-by-Step Guide to Garage Door Installation in Castle Rock

Garage doors are certainly the most complicated item we have in our home. They operate countless times over a year, yet there are instances when they don't quite meet expectations. When a garage door won’t open it can be the starting of major issues. The obvious issues are inconvenience pursued by safety & security.

Most homeowners in Castle Rock want their garage doors to operate perfectly every day and protect them from uninvited intruders. However, garage doors are nothing but simple machines. Likewise, every machine needs repair in the long run. Here are the top five signs that can help you identify that your garage door needs repair:

If the Cables are Broken -

Generally, broken cables make the garage door bounce around or struggle when in use. However, broken cables look worn or might have tangled wires. Replacing the broken one with new cables can be inexpensive, but the process of replacing them is a bit complicated and can become expensive if not performed properly. You need a professional residential garage door installation in Castle Rock if you are running through such a problem.

If the Safety Sensors are damaged -

Normally, safety sensors protect the garage door from closing on any objects or people that may come in the doorway. If your garage door closes the party way and then reverses, there might be a problem with safety sensors. If you find any debris obstructing sensors like dirt or cobwebs, clean them right away. If this doesn’t work, you need to move the sensors so that they will remain aligned with each other. If again this tip fails to work, you should get in touch with a professional garage door repair service in Castle Rock as soon as possible.

If the Garage Door Produces Loud Noise -

If your garage door makes a loud sound while opening or closing, it’s wise to consult a residential garage door installation in Castle Rock for immediate help. It’s mostly because the garage door track needs special maintenance like lubrication or maybe cleaning dirt particles and debris. To get rid of these issues, you can clean the tracks without using any harsh chemicals to remove any dirt or debris if present. After that, you should apply a lubricant coat to the track and run the door multiple times. If it doesn’t work, hire a certified residential garage door repair service in Castle Rock immediately.

If the Garage Door is Locked-

Some garage doors can be locked from the outside by turning the handle simply. If your garage door has this feature, a neighbor or your child can accidentally turn the handle; which can lead to major consequences. You need a professional residential garage door technician if you are running through such a problem.

If the Garage Door Spring is Broken -

Typically, springs bear the entire weight of the garage door and are susceptible to various forms of damage due to the strain. Without the springs, the garage door won’t be able to operate and can be opened using the emergency release cord. If you replace the broken spring on your own, it will be a bit of an intricate and potentially dangerous process. So you should consider professional garage door repair service right away.

Conclusion -

Are you seeking immediate help with garage door repair & installation in Castle Rock? Den Garage Doors provides quality repair, and installation services for your garage door needs in Castle Rock. They are cognizant of the safety considerations of your family. They are dedicated to offering excellent services exceeding client’s expectations. Contact their professional garage door repair technicians now and let them handle your garage door requirements! For any queries, get in touch with Den Garage Doors at 1-303-418-8085!

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whatsnewalycat · 5 months

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Passenger / Chapter 6

Pairing: Trucker!Din Djarin AU x OFC Charlie Wanderlust

Wyoming (Part Three)

[ Previous Chapter ][ Series Masterlist ]

Chapter Summary: Charlie strikes a deal with the mechanic.

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Word Count: 7.3k+

Content / Warnings: yearning, slow burn, horny thoughts, food mention, eating, handcuffs, one bed, shower, dog grogu, guns

Notes: None really. Hope you like it, thank you for reading!

A bell chimes when Din pushes open the door to Giddyup Auto, and again when he lets it swing shut behind you.

It’s just as cluttered inside the shop as it is outside. Pornographic magazines have been stacked alongside NAPA catalogs and tattered notepads on top of tool boxes. Promotional branding from popular auto parts manufacturers patch the steel walls, occasionally broken up by snarky signs that read things like KWITCHERBITCHIN AVE and I CAN FIX ANYTHING EXCEPT STUPID.

Country music crackles from blown speakers at the back of the shop, echoing off the tall ceiling. The rough, strained sound blends horribly with a high-pitched whir coming from beneath a 1989 Dodge Ram 250.

Din inhales the scent of motor oil and metal shavings. Adolescent nostalgia wells up in his chest like pride, some vague understanding of what it means to be a man. The responsibility of maintenance. Caretaking and custodianship.

He catches a glimpse of his adoptive father wringing his hands with an oil-soaked rag while rattling off the basic components of an internal combustion engine. Then he blinks it away.

Out of the corner of his eye, you adjust your grip on the wriggling dog, slipping one hand beneath his bottom and the other across his chest. Grogu huffs at the intrusion, but once he’s steadied to a higher vantage point, he seems pleased. His ears stand at attention, jowls sealed shut, the tip of his snout twitching with curiosity.

Both you and the dog look around the garage with the same kind of wide-eyed wonder. Two explorers ready to investigate this whole new world. Din leads the way deeper into the automotive bay, following the shrill grinding sound to the old rusted-out truck.

When he comes to a halt, so does the noise, then Paul slides out from under the truck on a creeper.

“Hey there! Sorry, I didn’t hear y’all come in,” he gestures to the impact wrench in his hand as he sets it down.

“Hi, Paul,” you greet him with a cheerful smile.

Rising to his feet, he beams, “Miss Charlie, how’re you today?”

The twinkle in his bright eyes makes Din feel uneasy. Strands of gray streak his dark beard and pepper his slicked-back hair. Hard-earned wrinkles crease his face. He’s twice your age at least, and Din can’t quite determine whether his intentions are cordial or flirtatious.

Either way, you hardly seem to mind. You perk up at the attention, taking a step towards him as you reply, “Can’t complain. Yourself?”

“Oh, just fine. Annie get y’all set up at the motel?”

“She sure did. It was nice to sleep in a bed for once, y’know, after being on the road for so long. Thank you for recommending it to us.”

“‘Course. Yellow Seed’s been treatin’ you alright?”

“Yeah! We got to poke around a little yesterday. Went and got supper at the Outlaw Saloon, which was good,” you glance at Din and chuckle a little, “The locals didn’t seem too keen on us. Got a few dirty looks, but that’s not surprising.”

Paul laughs at this, crossing his arms as he leans back against the truck, “Well, you know, we small town folks don’t always like outsiders.”

“I’m used to it,” you shrug dismissively, then your face lights up, “But, hey, I talked to the owner and they’re gonna let me play a couple sets tomorrow night if you wanna swing by.”

“No shit?” Paul grins and catches himself, “Pardon my language—”

“It’s fine,” you wave it off.

“Playin’ a few sets at the Outlaw Saloon,” Paul repeats, shaking his head with amusement, “What kinda music you play?”

“I know a little bit of everything. These kinds of gigs, I try to feel out the crowd. I catch a country music kinda vibe around here, so probably some Hank Williams Jr, Alan Jackson, Johnny Cash. Stuff like that,” you tilt your head at him, “Got any requests?”

“Know any Waylon Jennings?”

“Sure, I have a few of his tunes up my sleeve. Any particular song?”

“Surprise me,” he winks.

Din tries to retain his stoic demeanor despite the discomfort writhing beneath his skin. The dog must pick up on this, because he whines at his owner and starts to squirm in your grip.

Struggling with Grogu’s protest, you ask Paul, “Is it ok if I set him down?”

“Go on ahead, darlin’,” Paul tells you, then turns to Din, “How about you? Settling in ok?”

“How much will it cost to fix?”

Paul raises his eyebrows and pushes off the truck, “Right down to brass tacks, huh?”

“He’s not much of a talker,” you smirk as you set the dog on the cement floor and start roaming around the shop, leash in hand.

“I can respect that.” His gaze lingers on your wandering form for a moment longer before he looks at Din and sighs, “Well, I had some luck calling around to a few junkyards lookin’ for salvaged or used parts. Found a good price for what I need. With that ‘n’ labor, it’ll run you twenty-five hundred, long as everything goes smoothly.”

Din weighs the cost against his bank account, factoring in the motel room, gas to get to the next job, and food for a few days. It would run him dry. His stomach tightens and twists. Before he can formulate a response, you chime in.

“Is there any way we can knock that price down?”

Paul crosses his arms across his chest and gives you a sympathetic shrug, “Way it stands, ‘fraid I can’t.”

You nod as you consider this, furrowing your brow at the floor, then look up at him, “What if we make a trade?”

“A trade?” Paul frowns.

“Yeah, or, you know. Some kind of a deal. We scratch your back, you scratch ours.”

Paul’s blue eyes flick between you and Din, “Wha’d you have in mind, sweetheart?”

Din’s first instinct is to shut down the conversation. But when you glance at him as if searching for approval, he doesn’t protest. You turn back to Paul and nod over your shoulder, “I noticed your sign out front is pretty faded. I could paint it if you knock a couple hundred off?”

Paul shifts his weight to one leg and wrinkles his nose. Not sold. You don’t let it deter you.

“I’ve done murals before, so this would be a piece of cake. It looks pretty shabby now, but I can make it,” you smack your lips, “pop. Maybe it’d bring in some more business for you.”

Shaking his head, he smirks at Din, “She’s persistent, ain’t she?”

“She is.”

“I am,” you confirm with a wide, toothy grin, “Whaddaya say? I do the sign, take off $500?“

Paul works his jaw from side to side, then slackens and sticks out his hand, “Five hundred.”

“Plus the cost of supplies,” you add.

“Plus the—” he cuts himself off with an amused chuckle, “You’re somethin’ else. Fine. Five hundred plus costs.”

When you shake his hand, a victorious, blinding smile spreads across your face. The corner of Din’s mouth turns up at the sight. He fails to correct his expression as you take a step back and glance at him. His heart skips in that brief moment where his eyes meet yours, before you drop your gaze to your feet and tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. Blush rises to your cheeks and neck, rosy splotches that bloom soft and full in his chest.

“Whaddaya think, should $100 do it?” Paul asks.

“I think we can make that work,” you nod, “Do you have paint brushes or rollers? Sandpaper?”

“Reckon I do. Hang tight, I’ll get y’all some cash, ok?”

Once he’s out of earshot, Din studies you, wondering out loud, “Why are you helping me?”

“Rule number ten: Be a stand up tramp,” you shrug, crouching down to scratch Grogu between his ears, “Plus, I don’t know, it just seems like… the right thing to do.”

Your answer perplexes him. He can’t come up with a response other than, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you grin up at him, then rise to your feet and change the subject, “I’m hungry. We should get lunch. And maybe get some groceries, too, so we—er, you don’t have to spend as much on eating out.”

The authority with which you suggest this causes him to chafe. He wants to push back for no reason other than to reclaim the upper hand. Your reasoning is sound, though. It’s not a bad idea.

“We can do that.”

“Yeah?”

He nods.

Your gaze lingers on him for a moment, lips curving into a delicate smile. Something flutters in his stomach, frantic and timid, urging him to put up a wall between you. But he keeps his eyes anchored to yours despite his internal warning bells.

The tight wire of tension slackens as Paul returns, counting a stack of wrinkled bills, “Here you go.”

You step forward to accept the cash, “Perfect. Thank you, Paul.”

“Are y’all gonna be able to carry everything back here, or do you wanna borrow my truck? Might be a little easier that way.”

“Really?” you grin and knit your brows together into a gracious expression, “We were thinking of grabbing lunch and getting some groceries, too. Would that be ok?”

“Fine by me, just bring it back in one piece,” Paul answers, fishing a set of keys from his jumpsuit pocket and handing them to you, “Ford F-150 out front.”

“Thank you, Paul. I—we really appreciate it,” you tell him, then look at Din and raise your eyebrows expectantly.

“Yes, thank you,” Din nods in agreement.

“Don’t mention it,” Paul says, then ambles back to the old rusted-out Dodge, whistling along to some old country song.

Keeping pace at his side as he starts towards the exit, you jangle the keys and ask, “Do you want me to drive?”

“Dream on, kid,” he scoffs, holding his hand out.

“Worth a shot,” you grin and place them in his palm.

“Would it be too predictable to put a horse on the sign?” you ask, frowning at your rough outline, “I feel like there are a lot of places out here that lean into the western motif, so it might be overdone. But the place is literally called Giddyup Auto, so…”

When Din doesn’t respond, you glance up and can’t quite tell if he’s looking at you or something in your general direction.

Stupid goddamn aviators.

“You know, it’s considered polite to take off your hat and sunglasses when you go indoors.”

Again, nothing.

‘Off in lala-land’ if you’ve ever seen it.

You blink at him a few times to no reaction, then raise your voice, “Did you hear me?”

This seems to do the trick.

It’s difficult to explain how you know his eyes are on you when they are. Maybe the microscopic tilt of his head or the twitch of his eyebrows. Mostly though, you would say that his attention carries a force. One minute you’re sitting there wondering if he’s looking at you and then—bam! It hits you. Absolute certainty.

Anyway, he looks at you and asks, “What?”

“Why do you insist on wearing your Unabomber costume all the time?”

He frowns and shakes his head like he doesn’t understand.

“You know, because—Oh for cripes’ sake, nevermind,” you scoff and sit up in your seat, turning your notebook to face him, “Here. Tell me what you think.”

He looks down at your notebook and pulls it closer. As he quietly studies the sketches, discomfort twists your skin raw. Imagining all the criticisms lingering at the tip of his tongue, you can’t stop yourself from speaking preemptively.

“The first one is pretty boring, but I think the font adds a little flair. I’d blend shades of orange for the background to make it stand out and white for the text.” You prop your chin up on the heel of your palm and lean forward, pointing to the second option, “I like the covered wagon as a concept, but it would take me a long time and I’m not sure if it fits the vibe since wagons are kinda slow. The horse is fast, obviously,” you tap the third sketch and shrug, “But, like I said when you so rudely ignored me, the western motif is sort of tired in this neck of the woods.”

Nodding, he comments, “They look… nice.”

Such a way with words.

You stare at him for a moment, waiting for additional input to no avail. Raising your eyebrows, you release a big sigh and fold your legs up into the booth, “‘Nice.’ Ok, sure. Well, let me ask you this: Which one is your favorite?”

After a few seconds of contemplation, he taps the bucking bronco silhouetted over a mountain range, then pushes the notebook back across the table.

“Why that one?”

He shrugs, “It’s called Giddyup Auto.”

Instead of pointing out that you said the same thing earlier, you mutter, “Sure is, big guy,” and flip your notebook to a blank page, then start jotting down a shopping list, “We should get something for the pup while we’re out. I feel bad for leaving him behind.”

You wrinkle your nose at his silence, looking up to confirm that once again, he has drifted away.

Curiosity gets the best of you. You follow his line of sight, craning your neck over your shoulder to see the waitress approaching with a serving tray. Din straightens when she sets a plate in front of him.

“Ok, we have a breakfast platter number two,” she sets another plate in front of you, “And french toast with fruit.” Tucking the tray under her arm, she smiles between you and him, “Anything else I can get for you guys?”

“We’re fine, thank you,” Din tells her, a small smile gracing his lips.

She nods before turning to go, dragging his attention along with her. You watch him watch her, studying his wandering gaze. A grin spreads across your face. When he notices you staring, he immediately becomes defensive.

“What?”

Dead giveaway.

Suppressing a smile, you grab a butter knife and shake your head at your plate, “Nothing.”

“What?” he asks again, this time more pointed.

“I didn’t say anything!”

He scoffs and hunches over the plate to shovel scrambled eggs into his mouth.

After smearing whipped butter on your french toast, you pour syrup over your plate, glancing up at him when you ask, “Do you have a crush on the waitress?”

“No.”

Denial sours the word in the most obvious way.

Raising an eyebrow, you cut your food into bite-sized pieces as you tease, “I didn’t take you for a liar, Din. But I also didn’t take you for the kind of guy who has a soft spot for pretty service workers, so what do I know?”

Of course, he doesn’t say anything. And of course, you decide to push the conversation further.

“I just mean… If you do—you know, like her or whatever—you should ask her for her number. Take her on a date. See if you can’t live a little while you’re holed up in this town.”

“And what am I supposed to do with you in that scenario?”

Twirling a chunk of french toast around on your fork, you shrug, “Maybe she wouldn’t mind your prisoner third wheeling. That’s probably not a red flag, right?”

“Not at all.”

You snort at him and he lets a small smirk tug at the corner of his mouth. It seems to soften the atmosphere, both of you relaxing back in your seats. While chipping away at your food, you ponder a little to yourself, then out loud.

“Suppose your line of work, you don’t go on many dates, do you?”

Frowning at the strip of bacon pinched between his fingers, he tells you, “Not in the traditional sense.”

“What does that mean?”

Instead of answering the question, he pops the bacon into his mouth. When he swallows and you’re still staring at him, he shakes his head, “Forget I said anything.”

“Come on, Din,” you meet his flattened expression with a grin, “You so know I won’t let this go. Might as well just spill the beans.”

He crosses his arms in front of his chest and stares at you like a challenge. You narrow your eyes at him, tilting your head with equal determination.

“‘Not in the traditional sense.’ So you do have romantic or sexual experiences, but society wouldn’t typically deem those experiences ‘dates,’ right?”

He says nothing.

“Hmmm… interesting,” you lean your elbows on the table, studying him, “You seem reluctant to talk about it, which indicates… Maybe you’re ashamed of it? Although, you’re pretty reluctant to talk about everything, so I don’t know how much weight to place on that. But you’re a trucker. Transient. Don’t seem like much of a ‘family man’ to me. So, what… you’ve gotta be a hookup guy or a sex worker guy, right?”

The way he squirms at the question makes your chest tingle.

“It could be both, too. I feel like you would be more of an opportunist than a strategist when it comes to fucking. Am I right?”

His jaw shifts from side-to-side. He glances around before leaning in, “And you’re much different?”

“No, not really.”

Most people would ask follow-up questions or awkwardly segue into a different subject, but not Din. He seems as content with your answer as you are with his. But where he goes back to eating, you feel a loose end rattling at the tip of your tongue and speak it into existence.

“I think… I think people like us don’t lay down roots for anything less than the spectacular,” you search his face, “Right?”

With his fork lifted halfway to his mouth, he pauses to look at you and nod, “This is the way.”

Din brings the shopping cart to halt in the middle of the aisle when you stop to examine jars of preserved nut and fruit spreads lining the shelves.

You pull a big plastic container of generic peanut butter from the lineup and toss it into the cart, “Four dollars, twenty-nine cents.”

He jots down the price in your notebook and adds it to the running total while you wrinkle your nose at the ingredient list of strawberry preserves, then set it next to the peanut butter, “Three sixty-nine. Gotta love that food desert markup. What’re we at?”

“Twenty seven, give or take,” he answers, crossing two items off the list.

“What else we got here?” Sidling up to him, you peek at the paper, “Snacks. Wow, ok past me, very specific.”

When you start walking again, he does too, and he wonders how you can possibly smell so good without the aid of perfumes. While not a definitive scent, it inspires a sensation much like when he’s parched and sets his sights on a glass of ice water. It’s enticing, like your very foundation radiates temptation.

He cannot have this. This thing in his chest, gnawing at his bones, trying to escape. It snaps at the walls when you’re nearby, which is always.

Maybe if he could relieve some of the pressure buckling under his skin it would quiet. But he can’t, so it doesn’t.

It begs and pleads and promises to absolve him of consequence as long as he promises to move a little bit closer, hold his hand to your back a little bit longer—just one more second and I’ll be content. Maybe another. What if you slid your hand around her waist and pulled her body to yours? How would she react? I bet she would like it. I bet if you kissed her she would finally be speechless. Just a taste, please?

He comes to a stop beside you and follows your gaze to the wall of chips. Hundreds of bags in all different sizes and colors, all of them glossy in the fluorescent light.

“Well, big guy. What’s your chip of choice?” you ask without looking at him.

Grinding his teeth together, he shakes his head.

“Yeah, I don’t know, either. Too many of the same goddamn choices,” you step forward to narrow your eyes at a price tag, “Am I crazy or does that say five dollars?”

“It says five dollars.”

“What the fuck, that is obscene. Do we really need chips?”

“Does anyone?”

“I guess not technically,” you sigh and start wandering further down the aisle, so he follows you. “But we don’t have to be so utilitarian about it. Junk food is for the soul, not sustenance. And sometimes the soul needs something salty and crunchy, you know?”

Nodding, he comes to a stop and points to the display of microwave popcorn, “We could get this instead.”

“Six bags for four dollars,” you raise your eyebrows, “Salty, crunchy, and cost efficient. Hell yeah, I’m sold.”

He grabs the box of generic popcorn in question and walks it back to the cart while you meander towards the sweets. When he meets you in front of the cookies, you glance at him, “Original or chewy?”

“Original.”

“Ten four, good buddy.” You grab the blue package of chocolate chip cookies and toss it in the basket, “Do you ever get to say that on your radio? Have a real trucker moment?”

“Yes.”

“Adorable,” you chuckle, catching his gaze for a moment before you look down and tuck your hair behind your ear, “Are you gonna help me with the sign today, or do you have other plans?”

“What do you need help with?”

You exhale through slack lips, then shrug, “Well, today is just prep. I have to scrape off the old paint, sand it down, and prime. It has to dry overnight, but I think I’ll be able to finish the rest tomorrow or the next day if we get up early…” Pausing to chuckle, you shake your head, “Sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself. What I mean is, you could help me with scraping and sanding. It’s a real bitch and would be easier with your muscle. If—well, you know, only if you want to. You don’t have to or anything…”

“I can do that.”

Your eyebrows draw together as you search his face, “Yeah?”

He nods, “It’s the least I can do.”

As the two of you near the checkout line, a frail woman with closely-cropped white curls shuffles from a back office to the one and only cash register.

“How are we doing this? Splitting it?” you swing the backpack off your shoulder and start rummaging through it, “I should have some money in my wallet. It’s not much, but it should—”

He holds up a hand, “I’ve got it.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

That thing in his chest whimpers when you smile at him, big and bright and gap-toothed, sparing him a polite, “Thank you,” before you start unloading the groceries onto the conveyor belt.

Balancing the tips of your toes on the highest ladder rung, you stretch your roller towards the unprimed stripe of sign, but can’t quite reach it.

“Goddamnit,” you mutter, returning all fours to the ladder with a huff, then look back at Din, “Hey, can I borrow your tall?”

Your question bounces off him with no reaction.

Between the visor of his cap and the tablet glued to his face, you can’t quite tell if he’s ignoring you or if he just plain old can’t hear you. All that’s visible is his furrowed brow. So you shimmy down the ladder and set the paint roller in the tray, brushing your hands on your jeans as you approach his lawn chair, waiting for him to notice you.

When the brisk October air nips at your dirt-caked, sweat-soaked skin, you skip closer, tapping your foot against his calf, “Hey.”

He jumps as if broken out of a trance, then raises his eyebrows at you, “What?”

“Can you help me with something?”

His mouth flattens into a straight line. He looks down at the tablet, then turns off the screen and sets it aside to look up at you.

“See the top of the sign, how it’s all shitty still?” you point at the evidence, “Can you get it for me? I can’t reach.”

“Use the big ladder.”

“I didn’t think to grab it before Paul locked up for the night.”

He releases a big dramatic sigh, glancing down at the tablet before rising to his feet. As he passes you the handle of the dog leash, you grin and plop down in the warmed-up lawn chair, “My hero!”

“Uh-huh,” he shakes his head and starts towards the drop cloth.

Beneath the lawn chair, the dog wakes from his nap and tries to follow Din, huffing and puffing when the leash goes taut, then walks back to your feet and sits on your shoelaces. His big satellite ears stand at attention while his person shimmies up the ladder with a roller brush in hand.

The two of you sit there and watch Din with the same level of ardent attention, both perched on the edge of your respective seats, unable to tear your eyes away for a second.

At first you try to tell yourself that you’re not even looking at him, just mapping out the illustration you’ll start tomorrow. But the truth is, it’s hard not to be drawn in by the view. By his panoramic shoulders and muscle-bound arms stretching out the fabric of his flannel as he rolls the brush up and down, back and forth, spreading thick white primer across the freshly smoothed wood…

Despite the waning sunlight and icy gusts spilling off the mountains, heat bubbles up to the surface of your skin.

You know that once he’s finished, you’ll go back to the motel for the rest of the night. Given the thick layer of grime you each accumulated throughout the day, showers will likely be in order. Which, of course, means stripping down to nothing while he’s in the bathroom with you. And vice versa, probably.

Your imagination wanders to his naked body and how it would feel against yours. What if you argued in favor of water conservation, asking him to join you in the shower? What if he agreed? How would he look at you without those sunglasses covering his eyes? How would he touch you if morals weren’t involved?

Din climbs down off the ladder and walks over, taking off his cap to wipe the sweat from his forehead, “Is that it for today?”

He replaces the hat and takes off his aviators, cleaning the lenses with his shirt as he meets your gaze. The full force of his big brown eyes turns your saliva tacky and makes your heart stutter. He raises his eyebrows at you expectantly.

Fuck, did he ask you something?

“Is that—? Oh, um,” you clear your throat, then nod, “Yep, that should do it. Thank you, I appreciate it.”

Flicking his eyes around your face, he nods, then turns back to the drop cloth, where he starts consolidating all the painting supplies.

With his legs stretched out across the perimeter of the bathroom’s tile flooring, back resting against the tub, Din types ‘Tom Boucheron’ into the search bar of a Portland-based web forum.

The search yields 83 matches. He starts sifting through the results, scrolling past subject lines that indicate general complaints about property management like rising rent and evictions and gentrification. Every once and a while he comes across subject lines that take on a more conspiratorial tone, though, mentioning the weight of his influence or his ties to police presence throughout the city. When he finds these posts, he clicks on the thread, copying and pasting the urls into a separate document.

He can delve deeper into these later, once he’s able to better focus. But right now, with the roaring cascade of the shower behind him and your enthusiastic rendition of Tiny Dancer by Elton John, this mechanical sorting is the maximum concentration he can muster.

Squinting at the screen, he wipes away the fog forming on his tablet. Moisture reclaims the area just as soon as it clears. He sighs and turns off the device when your vocals start ramping up to a volume he can’t ignore.

“—But oh how it feels so real, lying here with no one near. Only you, and you can hear meeee, when I say softlyyyy, slooowly—”

“Are you almost done?”

“You ruined the best part.”

“We’re going to get a noise complaint.”

You scoff, then he hears the thunk of you turning off the water. In his peripheries, your arm stretches out from behind the shower curtain to snatch the folded white towel off the toilet lid.

A few seconds later, the curtain pulls back and you announce, “I’m decent.”

He climbs to his feet while you step out of the tub, one hand securing the bath towel around your body, the other grabbing his arm for balance. Once sure-footed on the pink tiles, you let go and murmur, "Sorry,” before opening the door and padding off into the motel room.

Grogu runs into the bathroom to investigate as Din slips out and takes a seat at the foot of the bed. He tries to anchor his vision to the floor, but finds his gaze drifting towards your movements out the corner of his eye. Humming to yourself, you comb your fingers through dripping wet hair and pull a few articles of clothing from your backpack.

“Are you gonna hop in too?”

His eyes tick to yours as you turn around, clutching a pile of clothing to your chest.

“Because, you know… if you need me to be in there with you or whatever, that’s fine,” you cast your gaze to the floor with a shrug.

He studies your bashful demeanor for a moment before responding, “I’ll have you sit in there with me once you get dressed.”

Without looking up, you give him a nod and walk over to the bathroom. As you put on clothing, Din uses all his will power to stare at the ground.

“What do you wanna do after that? We could watch a movie.”

His eyes cheat to the mirror on the wall, where he watches your reflection wrestle with a t-shirt. He catches a glimpse of your bare back before returning to the floor and clearing his throat.

“I thought you weren’t much of a movie person.”

“Well,” your footsteps soften onto the carpet, then your voice is closer, “If you have a better idea of how to pass the time in a seedy roadside motel, I’m open to suggestions.”

He meets your heated gaze long enough for something to spark deep within his belly. The air between your body and his thickens with a palpable magnetism. His lips part to respond, but only one suggestion plays over and over again in his head. The mad yapping of that thing in his chest.

Before he can say or do something stupid, though, you look away and start fidgeting, “So, I’m dressed. Are you ready?”

Swallowing his tight throat, he pushes himself to his feet and locks eyes with you, “Go sit where I just was and put your head between your knees.”

“Wow, you’re taking this very seriously.”

“Let’s just get it over with, ok?”

You roll your eyes a little, but acquiesce.

Din trails behind you into the bathroom, shooing the dog from the room before closing the door. When he turns around, he finds you curled up on the floor, back pressed to the tub basin with your face buried in your knees.

“Like this?”

“Perfect. Stay like that, I won’t take long.”

For some reason he expected you would stay quiet while he disrobed, but you just continue talking as if you were accompanying him on any other menial task.

“I think it’s funny how you have me do this whole thing so I don’t see your dick, but when I need privacy, the most you give me is a turned back.”

Din glances at the top of your head while unbuckling his utility belt, then turns to spread it out across the bathroom counter, “That’s not the only reason I’m having you do this.”

“Then why?”

“Are you familiar with the concept of involuntary captivity?”

While you scoff and most likely try to come up with a rebuttal, he shucks off his flannel overshirt, then unfastens his shoulder holster and lines it up on the counter below the outspread belt. His hands work without much thought as he systematically unloads all three of his pistols. Eject the magazine, count the rounds, check the chamber.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Ignoring the question, he moves the unloaded guns and utility belt to a high shelf over the toilet, then pulls off his undershirt.

“Can you at least confirm you’re not gearing up to murder me right now?”

If he wanted to tear your frayed edges, he could mention that you were begging him to do exactly that less than 48 hours ago. But since you’re somehow more irritating when in a foul mood, he doesn’t.

“If I was going to kill you I would have already.” He turns on the shower and takes a step back to make sure you’re still covering your eyes, then takes off his pants.

“Would you do it if you had to?”

The question gives him pause as he pulls back the shower curtain.

“Why would I have to?”

“I don’t know, because they asked you to do it.”

He frowns, “I wouldn’t do it just because someone asked me to.”

“You wouldn’t?”

The hopeful air in your voice eats at his stomach lining. Instead of answering or clarifying what he meant, he steps into the shower.

“Ok, but let’s say they gave you a good reason, and you were going to do it… kill me, I mean. How would you do it?”

“I’m not going to tell you that.”

“Why not?”

He shakes his head and grabs a bar of soap off the shower ledge and starts to lather it against his skin.

“Are you ignoring me or thinking?”

“Ignoring you.”

“You know, I appreciate the honesty.“ Then, after a few seconds: “I promise not to leak your trade secrets, big guy. Come on, how would you do it?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

With this, you go quiet.

Silence fills the bathroom for the remainder of his time in the shower, but Din’s thoughts are as loud and intrusive as your questions.

His mind becomes populated with scenarios in which you would end up in the sights of his pistol. Under what circumstances would he pull the trigger?

He imagines you stealing from him. He imagines trying to escape. He imagines it coming down to you or the money. He even goes so far as to imagine it coming down to you or him.

But each time the imaginary him goes to take aim, he falters.

While Din tosses a bag of popcorn in the microwave, you survey the Room 10’s VHS collection.

“Ok let’s see,” you tilt your head sideways and read the titles, “Aladdin, Batman Returns, Twister—”

“You choose.”

Beeps sound from the microwave, then it hums to life.

You pull Aladdin from the shelf and admire the familiar cover art. Little flakes of deteriorated plastic break off the exterior and stick to your fingertips when you trace the title. You wince and mumble an apology to the inanimate object before prying it open to pull out the tape.

After feeding it to the VCR, you press rewind and hold up the cover to Din, “Ever seen this?”

When he takes a step closer to examine it, you note the details you’re not normally privy to. His damp curls and the heat of his pulse. Mostly, though, you become fixated on his eyes. Those devastatingly dark and warm eyes. His heavy brow and hooded lids, all the lines of age creeping out from the corners.

He meets your gaze and you swear you hear the snap of his full attention locking onto you when he frowns, “Can’t say I have.”

Somewhere far away, the popcorn starts popping. You feel yourself succumbing to his gravitational pull, subconsciously drifting towards him, and can’t really remember if you had a point in mind when you asked.

“It’s-it’s good,” you nod, letting your eyes drift to his mouth for a moment before you shrug, “I mean, from what I remember at least. I was obsessed with it when I was a kid. It drove my grandma crazy cuz I’d make her watch it on repeat…”

It doesn’t really register how much information you’re disclosing until his eyes get all wide and doughy, at which point you take a step away from him and tuck your hair behind your ear, “Sorry, um, anyway. I liked it.”

He chuckles, causing you to grin, “What?”

“Nothing.”

His face tells you it’s definitely not nothing. It’s something if you’ve ever seen it. Something so gooey and hot it makes you ache. Dangerous, that’s what it is.

The VCR clicks and shifts gears, then the TV lights up with disclaimers. Taking it as a sign from above, you start back towards the bed and tease, “I totally get why you wear the sunglasses, by the way. Your eyes give everything away.”

Rather than admit you’re right, Din raises an eyebrow at you, then turns around to pull the microwave open before the timer reaches zero. While you slide under the covers and prop the flimsy pillows up behind your back, he pries open the steaming hot bag of popcorn and brings it to you.

“Thanks.”

He grunts in response and disappears into the bathroom for a few seconds, returning with the shiny metal handcuffs, “Lights on or off?”

“Off.”

When the lights go out, the dog jumps onto the bed, spinning around a few times before curling up into an adorable white ball. Din tosses the cuffs to your side as he crawls into bed beside you. Once you think he’s settled in, you offer him some popcorn, which he accepts.

“Do I have to put them on right now?” you ask, in reference to the cuffs.

He frowns and shakes his head, “I can wait until you’re ready.”

Nodding, you study his profile in the dim illumination from the TV. You don’t even realize you’re staring at him like a full-on creep until he says, “Stop giving me goo-goo eyes and watch the movie.”

Embarrassment flares up your neck and cheeks. You scoff, “I am not giving you goo-goo eyes,” and wriggle deeper under the covers, diverting your gaze to the TV.

I will not look at him for the rest of the night, you vow. Even if he asks me to, or talks to me, I won’t look at his stupid face until the sun comes up tomorrow.

You almost fulfill the vow, too.

Well… almost might be an exaggeration, but you make it to the end credits and that’s further than you really believed you could make it.

With the motel room all dark save for the faintest glow from the credits rolling onscreen, he asks, “Are you awake?”

You remind yourself of your promise and try to ignore him. If you say something, you’ll look at him. And if you look at him, you lose.

“Charlie?” he nudges you.

Fuck.

“Yeah,” you glance over, and of course you catch his eyes, “Is it handcuff time now?”

He nods, almost apologetically.

“Can I use the bathroom first?”

“Go ahead.”

When you exit the bathroom and turn off the light, you find the room cloaked in darkness. The only reference point you have is the red glow of 9:12 on the alarm clock. You stretch your arms in front of you and start taking cautious steps towards it.

“Oh my god, I can’t see shit.”

“Want me to turn the lamp on?”

“No, I’ve got it.”

Your fingertips brush up against the bedspread, then you follow the alarm clock beacon to the side table.

“Here.”

His hand finds yours in the darkness. You grab ahold of it, trying your very hardest not to dwell on the warmth of his palm against yours as he gently guides you. When you finally settle between the sheets, he releases your hand. You almost wish he didn’t.

“Ready?”

“Sure.”

He closes the cold heavy steel around your wrist, then his. For a while, neither of you move. Anxious energy buzzes beneath your skin. You close your eyes in an attempt to trick yourself into being tired, but it only makes you notice how fucking quiet it is.

Resigning from your motionless state, you start wriggling around in an attempt to get comfortable. Din is accommodating while you do this, letting his wrist ragdoll wherever you drag it. You lie facing the wall for a while, fondling the knife you have tucked under the pillow. It doesn’t feel right. You flip onto your back and stare at the ceiling. Same problem.

Then, when you can’t stand it anymore—the dark, the quiet, the nerves—you roll on your side facing him.

“Din.”

“What?”

“I can’t fall asleep.”

He doesn’t say anything.

“Din.”

“What?”

“I said I can’t fall asleep.”

“I heard you the first time. What do you expect me to do about it?”

You open your mouth to ask him to fuck you, but nerves rob your tongue.

“Just talk to me for a while.”

“About what?”

“I dunno, whatever you want.” You tuck your cuffed hand beneath your cheek and scoot a little closer.

His silence holds the weight of contemplation, so you prompt him, “What would your genie wishes be?”

“Hang on, let me think.”

A few quiet seconds go by before he clears his throat and rolls on his side to face you. The back of his cuffed hand rests against yours, which brings you a shred of comfort.

“Financial security. Property rights to some land and a house, something out in the country.”

“Like a farm?”

“Something like that. Self-sustainable and off the grid. Maybe get a few animals and so I could live off the land.”

“That’s the dream, right? Fuck off to the middle of nowhere and not have to rely on anyone?”

“Yeah, that’s the dream.”

You hum, then ask, “What’s wish number three?”

“I… I’d rather not say.”

Your gut instinct is to push back, but you resist the urge and instead tell him, “That’s fine.”

“Thank you.”

There’s enough sincerity in his voice that a tinge of guilt twists in your belly, and you feel obligated to bring up an earlier conversation.

“I’m sorry, by the way. For pushing you to answer me when you were in the shower. Sometimes I don’t know when it’s time to shut the fuck up and let it be.”

“Don’t worry about it, kid.”

“Ok,” you wiggle around a bit and manage to find the perfect position, then close your eyes and release a content sigh.

“What are yours?” he asks.

“Mmmm… you know, I’ve thought a lot about this question—” A yawn swells in your chest, cutting you off. When it passes, your limbs feel heavy and warm. You continue, “I’d wish for the genie to be free.”

He lets out a disbelieving chuckle, “And what else, world peace? An end to climate change?”

“I hear your snark, sir, and I don’t appreciate it. No, I wouldn’t wish for world peace or the end of climate change. I wouldn’t wish for anything. Tricky bastard can keep his wishes, I make my own luck.”

“Tricky bastard, huh?”

Another yawn takes over. Lethargy seeps through your body, making your worlds come out slow and murmured.

“Yeah, y’know… all the, umm… the fine print. Too many strings attached, I don’t trust ‘em.”

“You sound tired.”

You hum, snuggling deeper into your pillow, “You sound tired.”

“Get some sleep, kid. You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

“Mmmkay,” you mumble, “Sweet dreams, Din.”

#din djarin x you #din djarin x ofc #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin fic #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters #passenger

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ti-piaccio · 4 months

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Maintanance Tips for Your Garage Door

Maintaining your garage door is crucial not only for ensuring its long life but also for the safety and security of your home or business. Regular maintenance helps prevent minor issues from turning into major, costly repairs and ensures that your door operates smoothly and efficiently. Here are some key tips to help you keep your garage door in top condition.

First, it's important to visually inspect your garage door regularly. Look for signs of wear and tear on cables, springs, rollers, and other door hardware. Pay special attention to the springs, as they are under high tension and can be dangerous if they break. If you notice any rusty or broken components, it’s advisable to contact a professional garage door service like Overhead Door of Joliet to handle the repairs.

Lubrication is another critical maintenance step that should not be overlooked. Apply a high-quality lubricant to the rollers, hinges, and tracks at least twice a year. This will ensure smooth operation and prevent annoying noises caused by parts grinding against each other. Additionally, make sure the tracks are clean and free of debris to avoid any obstruction that might cause the door to operate improperly.

Another essential aspect of garage door maintenance is checking the balance of the door. An unbalanced garage door can put unnecessary strain on the door opener and lead to premature wear. You can check the balance by disconnecting the opener and manually lifting the door halfway. If it stays in place, the balance is good; if it falls, the springs need adjustment, a task best left to professionals due to the risks involved.

Safety features should also be tested regularly. Modern garage doors are equipped with sensors and auto-reverse features that prevent the door from closing if an obstruction is detected. Test these functions monthly by placing an object like a roll of paper towels in the path of the closing door. If the door does not reverse before touching the object, call a technician to investigate and rectify the issue.

Weather stripping and seals are often overlooked but play a vital role in keeping your garage energy-efficient and free from water damage and pests. Check these for any cracks or gaps and replace them if necessary. This is particularly important in areas with extreme weather conditions, as the materials can degrade faster.

If your door uses a keypad or remote opener, check these for functionality as well. Replace batteries at least once a year to avoid being locked out due to power issues. Additionally, reprogramming the opener periodically can enhance security, especially if you’ve recently moved into a new home or had some units replaced.

For those in regions susceptible to severe weather, ensuring that your garage door can withstand conditions such as high winds and heavy rain is crucial. Reinforcements can be added by professionals to enhance structural integrity and prevent the door from failing under the stress of storm conditions.

Lastly, consider scheduling at least an annual inspection with a garage door specialist from Overhead Door of Joliet. A professional technician can catch potential issues that you may have missed and perform adjustments or replacements that are beyond the scope of DIY maintenance. Regular professional assessments ensure your garage door remains reliable and safe year-round.

By following these simple maintenance tips, you will extend the life of your garage door and ensure it continues to function properly and safely, keeping your property secure and enhancing the convenience and value of your home or business.

#Garage Door Maintenance Tips #DIY Garage Door Care #Professional Garage Door Services #Safety Checks for Garage Doors #Enhancing Garage Door Longevity #Preventative Garage Door Measures

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lovelandgaragedoorrepair · 2 months

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#garage door sizes #standard garage door dimensions #single garage door #double garage door #custom garage doors #garage door installation #garage door maintenance #Loveland Garage Door Service #homeowner tips #garage renovation #garage door materials

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readyforthegarden · 6 months

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kait my beloved! i saw your prompts earlier and then forgot to send one, but allie's just reminded me, so i came here to request "peppering small kisses all over their face to wake them" with jakey pleaseeeee 🥰

we know he's a giggler as much as he tries to be serious all the time, and the thought of quiet little morning voice giggles almost just sent me to the hospital

okay i'm back with these prompts!!!! thank you for your patience pj my love!! i hope you enjoy!!

It had been a long week, and you were so ready to be home. Your mother had decided to put your childhood home up for sale, citing the lawn care and general maintenance was becoming to much for her to do alone as she got older. Instead, she had found a nice condo, where everything would be taken care of for her. You'd flown back to your home state to help her pack and clean out the house.

Your boyfriend, Jake, had wanted to go with you, however his own schedule had been full of studio time and rehearsals before he and his brothers went back on the road in a few weeks. You made do with facetiming almost every night, or talking on the phone. You were usually fine being without him for stretches of time. You had to be, knowing your work would keep you from joining him on tour a lot, and during album cycles he'd be busy. But there was something about the emotional time you were having, packing up memories from your childhood, or setting them out for a garage sale or into a donation box. It made you crave the comfort of your partner, the reassurance that even through the changes that were happening, he was going to be steadfast.

You hadn't told him you changed your flight to an earlier one. Jake was supposed to pick you up from the airport at one-thirty in the afternoon, but your mom had been settled into her condo for a few days, and there wasn't anymore reason for you to stay. You'd opted for an uber back to your home, the sun just starting to rise as you arrived. You were thankful the uber driver got out to help you get your bag out of the trunk, it being heavier with a few extras from your home.

Rolling it up to your front door, you fished your keys out of your bag and quietly unlocked it. There was a fifty/fifty chance that either Jake was still awake putzing around the house, or he was in bed, dead to the world. You had fallen asleep on the phone with him last night, listening to him talk about at restaurant Sam had taken him to, that he was exited to take you to try. But that didn't mean Jake had fallen asleep.

The house was quiet, still dim with just the early morning sun starting to creep in. You could hear the faint hum of your fan on upstairs, meaning Jake was indeed in bed. You left your suitcase and bags at the door after locking it again and kicking off your shoes, nearly tip-toeing across the foyer and making your way upstairs. Pushing open the door to your bedroom, you were hit with the cool air in there, the fan blowing on you as it swiveled. Jake was tangled up in the bedding, his dark hair splayed across the pillow. As you stepped closer, you saw his phone clutched in his hand, a sign he also fell asleep while on the phone with you, no doubt listening to your breathing on the other end of the line to fall asleep himself.

Softly, you climbed into the bed, smiling at your love and how serene he seemed while sleeping, his mouth parted slightly. Jake's round face was always something you found so sweet, so handsome. His cheeks were the perfect place to leave kisses, other than his lips. You couldn't help yourself, you'd missed him too much. Leaning forward, you pressed a soft, gentle kiss to his cheek.

One turned into to two, and then suddenly you were raining soft kisses all over Jake's face, feeling him start to wake underneath you. As his body stretched, his chest rumbled with deep giggles, turning his face so you could get the side that had been resting on the pillow.

"Well good morning honey," he chuckled as his arms encircled you, rolling over so you were on top of him. You mumbled out a good morning reply between smooches, making sure to get every square millimeter of his face. Jake continued his laughter as you kept going. "I missed you too,"

"I'm sorry," you sat up, brushing the hair out of your face as you gazed down at him and caught your breath. "I just needed to kiss you, I missed you so bad." Jake raised a hand, sliding it under your hair and around the back of your neck, gently guiding you down for a sweet, slow kiss on the lips.

"You booked an earlier flight just to come home and shower me with affection?" he asked, a playful smirk on his lips. You shrugged with a small nod.

"And what if I did?"

"I'd say that's the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me." Jake smiled sleepily. "Now, why don't you change into your pajamas, crawl back into this bed, and cuddle with me until it's a decent hour to be awake?"

"That sounds perfect." you climbed off him, and moved to your dresser, taking off your plane clothes and changing into one of Jake's old t-shirts and a pair of your sleep shorts before crawling back into bed, snuggling up into Jake's side, catching up on some much needed sleep.

#jake kiszka #jake kiszka x reader #greta van fleet #greta van fic #greta van fluff #writing prompt blurb #jake gvf #jake kiszka fluff #jake kiszka fic #jake gvf fluff

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twice-inamillion · 1 year

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Children’s Day

Fluff with a little bit of smut talk

Chapter 189

2.7k words

(An outdoor adventure with the children and mommies.)

Tiny footsteps echoed in the hallway as the babies approached the door. Jisoo pointed at the handle while Ari smacked the door. Stood by the babies were Jihyo and Mina, the mothers said "Okay, okay. Don't get upset; we must be quiet so Daddy doesn't get up."

"Shhh…" Hina held her finger in front of her mouth to tell her older sisters to quiet down. Jisoo and Ari crossed their arms as they looked back at Hina. "Okay, I'll open it, so let's be quiet and tip-pie-toe inside." The three of them nodded and headed inside the room.

Jisoo looked for the step stool and pushed it next to the bed, she then climbed up the stool followed by Ari and Hina. The toddlers then sat beside their father and pulled his blanket.

"Smack, smack" You felt small hands hit your arm and face. You slowly opened your eyes and saw three small blurry figures looking at you. "Good morning; who's there?"

"Ap…pa… appa," you heard three familiar voices; your eyes adjusted to the light and saw them better.

"Omg, my baby princesses. Did you three come to wake up Daddy?" Jisoo and Ari nodded while Hina crawled closer to you, Hina then rubbed her face against yours and gave you a small kiss on the cheek.

"Omg… Hina kissed her daddy first. That's a miracle."

"That's my girl."

Jisoo and Ari looked at Hina as she got their father's attention, and they launched themselves at him and went for a hug.

"My babies love me. I'm the happiest father in the world. Where's Daeun?"

"Dahyun said that she just woke up and was hungry. She'll be here soon."

Sana poked her head inside, trying to see what was happening, "Don't forget about us." Jihyo looked at Sana, "Just come in."

With a tiny crop top, she came to you and said "We want to celebrate Children's Day, too" as she stuck out her tummy.

She was only a month pregnant, and her stomach was still the same as last month, but her enthusiasm made you happy. "Want to give the baby a kiss?"

"Sure," you stuck out your head as she approached your face. You pressed your lips against her flat tummy and gave her a soft kiss, "Hope you grow big and strong like your mommy; I can't wait to see you."

Dahyun, with Daeun in her arms, said "Daeun is going to be a big sister whenever Sana's baby is born. We will have a nursery at this point."

Jihyo laughed, and Mina chuckled at Dahyun's comment since it was true. With multiple members having children, the house was bound to become noisier and might need a bigger place.

Jisoo and Ari slapped their hand against your chest and pointed out the window. Jihyo looked at you, "Remember the thing you promised them?"

"Yes, I have everything ready, but we must have breakfast before heading out."

After breakfast, you headed to the garage and pulled out two bicycles and two attachments. While the babies were with their clothing changes, you proceeded to do a last-minute maintenance check and put the baby carriers together.

You remembered that the members wanted to celebrate Children's Day together, but the idea of being seen in public was a risk you were not willing to take, especially risking the members' careers.

Instead, you and the girls voted on an activity for the day and chose a bike ride with the children. Securing the bikes was not an issue, but the carriers were something that you had to order in advance for today.

Jisoo and the twins came out waddling on the grass as they saw you working on the bicycles and looked at you with confused faces. You said, "The carrier is for you to ride on, but since you're all too small maybe we can get you a bike when you’re older.”

Hina hid behind Ari as she was scared to try something foreign. Having the same emotion as Hina, Ari also stood frozen just like her sister, and afraid to get on the carrier. As the oldest, Jisoo mustered up the courage, puffed up her chest, and pulled on your pants, signaling that she was up for the challenge.

"Are you going to get on first?"

Jisoo nodded her head and pointed toward the bike. "Okay, I'm going to pick you up then." You placed her on the carrier, buckled up Jisoo's seat belt, and ensured it was nice and tight before placing an infant-sized helmet on her.

"Alright, Jisoo and I are going on a short test run, okay? So stay with Jihyo and Mina. We'll be back soon."

Jihyo and Mina picked up a child each and waved goodbye as they watched you and Jisoo rode off down the road.

You rode the bike on the road for two minutes and turned to see if Jisoo was okay. You saw a smiling Jisoo with her arms waving side to side. "Do you enjoy the ride?" Jisoo nodded " Okay, we're going back to get the rest." She put her hands up and smiled the whole way back.

"How was the ride, Jisoo? Did you enjoy it?" Jisoo looked at Jihyo and smiled, pointing back to the road.

Looking at Jisoo having fun, Ari decided to hop inside, raising her arms so you could pick her up. "Up…up," Ari gave you puppy eyes asking you to place her next to her older sister. "Okay, I'll put you next to Jisoo," and you secured her seat belt and helmet.

Jisoo and Ari looked at each other and laughed as they were excited about the ride with their father. Hina, on the other hand, stood next to the bike as her sisters enjoyed themselves.

"Aww, don't worry, Hina. I didn't forget about you or Daeun. I bought new bikes just for the both of you." As you held her in between your arms, you showed her the bikes that you purchased aboard.

"Look, these are new bikes that Daddy bought for you all. You like them?" Hina pointed at the front seat of the bike as she was interested in the weird-looking bicycle. "Here, let me buckle you up!" you said as you strapped the seatbelt.

"Where did you buy that bike from?" Jihyo and Mina asked as they walked to inspect the bike.

"I saw it online and did a bit of research. Many people use it in Europe, and I thought it would be perfect for the kids. You can even put a bassinet inside, which is perfect for Daeun, so I got two!"

You walked out with Da-eun's bassinet and inserted it into the compartment. Dahyun walked out with Da-eun in arms and Sana carried a basket for the trip. She placed her inside the bassinet and made sure that she was secure. Once all the children were safe, the rest (Jihyo, Mina, Dahyun, Sana) rode down the road to the nearby field. You wanted to make this a lasting memory, so you attached multiple GoPros on the bikes to capture the reaction of the members and the children.

Jihyo, who was pedaling with Jisoo and Ari on board, was laughing as the wind hit their faces. Mina rode with Hina, the toddler held on to her penguin plushy as she tried to enjoy the view. Sana and Dahyun rode their bike as Dahyun tried to stay beside you, ensuring Da-eun was doing okay. With Da-eun in front, you noticed how big she had gotten these past few months. Every day she got bigger and more interested in the world around her as she moved her eyes from side to side in wonder.

You watched the mothers laugh and rode alongside each other with the wind flowing through their hair, and you couldn't believe how lucky you were to have children with these incredible women.

After a couple of minutes of cycling, you finally arrived at the open field that led to a small lake. You all parked your bikes and, with the help of Sana and Dahyun, set up the large blanket on the grass. The rest of you gathered up the children and walked them to the blanket as they did some sightseeing.

Jisoo picked up a dandelion to give it to Jihyo, but the passing wind blew away its pedals. Ari and Hina found it funny and laughed, which made Jisoo shed some tears and ran into Jihyo's arms. Jihyo had to comfort Jisoo, "Aww, it's okay. You can get me a prettier flower. Would you like to help me?" Jisoo nodded, and they both went off to find a flower together.

Ari and Hina waddled towards you and crashed onto your back, causing you to lean forward. They smiled at you, climbed into your lap, and placed their heads on your chest. You gave them a long-lasting hug, "I love you both; I'm so happy to have you two in my life." They seemed to understand the words said as they worked their way up and kissed you on the cheek.

Jihyo and Jisoo came back to where everyone was and saw her sisters sitting on your lap, which caused her to pout and crossed her arms. "Aww, Jisoo is jealous," yelled out Sana.

Jisoo looked at you, upset and about to cry. "We have space here for you," you said as you made space for her to sit on. She rushed towards you, walked onto your lap, and snuggled up with the rest.

The members sat on the blanket and watched as you held your baby girls. Jihyo and Sana were surprised by how Hina opened up to you despite her shyness.

"Hina is trying to catch up to Jisoo and Ari," said Dahyun. "She doesn't want to get left behind and wants her daddy's attention," mentioned Mina. "It's only a matter of time until Da-eun catches up to them," said Dahyun. The members laughed at the idea since Da-eun was only a few months old.

"Don't forget about my baby. They are going to want their daddy's and sister's attention, too!" said Sana with a happy smile.

As the children played within the circle you all made to keep them from wandering around, you all enjoyed the view of the small lake and the wildlife, especially the mother goose and her children following her.

"That looks like us with our children who like to stick to us like glue at home," said Jihyo.

"You're right; Hina is that same way. She doesn't like being left alone and follows me around the house," responded Mina.

"I can't wait to have my baby; maybe they might follow me as I go around the house, especially when they start walking. If it's a girl, she'll be a mini version of me, or if a boy, it will be one of you, Oppa," Sana told

The laughter ended when Da-eun began to cry, "Aww, are you tired little one?" Dahyun tried to comfort her by swaying Da-eun from side to side, but no luck; instead, she cried harder. "Maybe she's hungry," said Jihyo.

Dahyun looked at Da-eun and saw her smacking her lips from hunger, "Don't worry, I'm here for you," Dahyun then undid her cardigan and lifted her blouse, revealing her cream white breast and pink nipple. Da-eun immediately lunged and started to suck, causing Dahyun to moan slightly.

"Wow, don't get too excited, Dahyun, we're in public," said Sana. "No, it's not like that; it is just that my breasts are sensitive."

"That's how it felt whenever I breastfeed Jisoo," said Jihyo

The babies watched their Da-eun have her meal and walked to their mother. They placed their hand and smacked their mother's chest.

"Do you want some milk, too?" asked Jihyo. Jisoo nodded, and Jihyo lifted her shirt, revealing both breasts, and asked, "Which one do you want?" Jisoo grabbed both of her mother's breasts, laid on her lap, and pulled her mother's left tit into her mouth.

Mina copied Jihyo, undid her hoodie, and lifted her top; Ari and Hina walked up to Mina, taking a tit each, and began to suck.

What a fantastic sight, your children being fed by their mothers, showing a completely different side from who they were in public.

"Wanna suck on mine?" asked Sana as she lifted her shirt, showing off her tits. "Not here, not in public." "That's no fun; I'm the only one that doesn't have anyone to breastfeed," she pouted and crossed her arms.

Jihyo tried to comfort Sana and said, "Maybe you can practice when you get home. Don't think Oppa would mind having fun with you," as she turned around to look at you.

Sana turned and waited for your response, "I can stop by later if you like," that response was enough to make her put her shirt back with a smile.

"Enjoy him while you can before he gets someone else pregnant."

The members laughed at Jihyo's comment, "Yeah, guess who will be next?"

You try to change the conversation but have no luck as the members mention names. "Maybe Nayeon unnie or Momo? They seem they might want to?" said Sana.

"Haha, I don't think oppa has had sex with Nayeon unnie, right oppa?" asked Dahyun.

You tried to avoid the question, "No comment."

Sana raised her hand, "Maybe Momo; she said they have been hooking up a lot during this comeback."

"Ohh, you're going for Momo, oppa?" asked Jihyo as she lifted her tits. "Haha, is it because her tits are big?" asked Dahyun.

"Please, stop. You're all making me feel embarrassed."

"Too bad you're with us, girls, so deal with it."

Mina, who hasn't said anything all this time, finally speaks up, "So, who's the next one?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know, Nayeon, Jeongyeon, or Tzuyu?" as she fiddled with her fingers. The members turned around and looked at her in surprise, "Whoa, Mina, look at you all interested!" said Jihyo. "Well, I want us to be at the same pace. I want everyone to feel oppa's love."

Sana shouted, "I want to see Tzuyu's first time. I think it would be so cute, being there for our maknae.".

"Don't kid yourself, Sana; we all know you get turned on by those types of things," said Jihyo.

"Teehee," Sana acted all innocent.

"I want to see Nayeon and Jeongyeon unnie reaction when they feel how big it is," said Dahyun. "Hahaha, same," the members said in unison.

"Well, let's leave it up to them to decide when they want to do it, right? You can't just force them to do it if they don't want to," commented Jihyo.

Even without verbal communication , you and Mina knew what was in each other's mind just by the eyes, the threeway you both had with Chaeyoung and you roughly fucked her for her first sexual experience. When Dahyun caught you both staring at each other, you couldn't help but chuckle.

———— —

After the babies finished their morning meal and the rest of you had a small snack, you all walked down the lake. Pictures of the children picking up rocks from the shore were taken. The three of them gave the rocks to their mommies as Sana helped Dahyun by carrying Da-eun in her arms.

You took as many photos as possible to keep these precious reminiscence moments for your wives and kids.

Jihyo ran to the front of the group and had the members and you posed for a family picture. She placed a tripod and mounted the phone just before with the timer set off. With the babies in the front, the members on the side, and you in the middle, the shutter sound went off. "Aww, how cute; I can't wait for when all the members are in the picture," said Jihyo. "Oppa, you are going to need and work your magic," whispered Sana as she walked past you.

You all rode your bikes back to the house and arrived at the smell of brunch the rest of the members made. "Brunch should be ready in twenty minutes, so get ready," said Jeongyeon. "Okay, we will change the babies into comfortable clothes, so we'll be right back."

"Kay," shouted Tzuyu as she helped Jeongyeon and Nayeon in the kitchen.

Sana walked up to you, "You said you were going to practice with me; we have twenty minutes, so let's enjoy ourselves until then," Sana then grabbed your hand and led you to your room.

#twice #twice fluff #kpop fluff #twice smut #kpop smut #male reader #twice mina #twice sana #twice jihyo #twice dahyun #TM smut

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