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guessimwritingficsagain · 4 years ago

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Not-a-Jedi (1/?)

Pairing : Din Djarin x reader

Summary : Since Grogu kept having nightmares about his father, you were sent to reunite them both. But nothing goes according to plan.

Warning : violence, sexy thoughts and yearnings.

Author's note : This was supposed to be a one shot but it's not.

When Master Luke had come to you with Grogu, you hadn’t thought much of it. The kid had been restless, he’d explained, visions of his father plaguing his mind every night.

‘I think he is meant to see him. His father might be in danger. Grogu won’t rest until he can help.’

You were no Jedi, but you could fly a ship, fire a blaster, kill, even, and Luke knew you and trusted you so he’d given you Grogu, and the name Nevarro to start with. Lured by the idea of leaving the little shop you worked at, after years of trying to settle down, live a quiet life, and knowing that grumpy boss of yours would take you back when your mission was over, you’d agreed to take Grogu to his father.

Now, though, with a blaster pointed at your head and a Mandalorian at the other end of it, you weren’t so sure. Screw Luke Skywalker and his sweet smiles.

‘Where did you get the kid ?’

You swallowed, your heartbeat picking up. As you were struggling for an answer, Grogu just cooed and his hands shot up towards the Mandalorian.

Luke hadn’t updated the very Mandalorian father about the whereabouts of his kid, you were slowly understanding. And now there was a blaster, pointed directly to your head - that deserved to be emphasized.

You tried to explain, hating how you were struggling, stumbling on your words like a new-born babe on an uneven sidewalk. When you were done, the Mandalorian stood so still you blessed whatever god you didn’t believe in because death was sure to be quick and painless. But it never came.

Instead, you felt Grogu’s weight being lifted from your arms as you heard the Mandalorian whisper :

‘Miss me, kid ?’

The baby cooed, while a lady you hadn’t noticed at first lowered her rifle, tapped the baby on the forehead.

‘Nice to meet you, Jedi. I’m Cara Dune.’

You shook her offered hand and corrected her :

‘Not a Jedi.’

You gave her your name, but she playfully smiled and answered :

‘Nice to meet you, Not-a-Jedi.’

The Mandalorian had turned away, already walking back into town. Cara motioned you to follow. You looked around as you walked. So much sand. You could feel it slipping in your boots, too. Not a fan of that, you decided. It was hot, and your weapon of choice was heavy against your back. Cara was talking to the Mandalorian, though you couldn’t make up her words. You’d rather trail behind, unsure of what to do next. Luke’s words hadn’t been specific. Stay with them or don’t, but if you don’t, know that a time will come when you need to get Grogu back here. When, though, I don’t know.

You liked Luke, really, but the cryptic wizard bullshit was getting old. You briefly wondered how you had been so fascinated by the whole thing in the first place.

Once you were sat at a table in the local cantina, a drink in front of you, Cara casually asked :

‘So, Not-a-Jedi, how come the Jedi trusted you with the kid ?’

She was leaned back on her chair, legs spears apart, but somehow you could tell she was ready to break you in half. And maybe, she could. You might have had five whole teenage, foolish years of something akin to street-fighting behind you, but she was huge and clearly military-trained. And there was a Mandalorian sitting next to her. You weren’t about to take that chance, not after many years of keeping to yourself, the hard muscles softening with a bit of fat here and there, not with the slight softening of your belly. The street-fighting had been about adrenaline. You’d been too young, too cocooned by parents scared of the world, and you’d wanted out. You’d liked the danger of it, back then, the very idea that one wrong move could leave you with a broken spine turning you on, but never scary enough to dwell on it. You’d felt invincible, back then. Fights had been foreplay to encounters in a dark street, quiet fucks to release a tension you shouldn’t have felt. You’d had a family, a roof. You were privileged, but it was boring. A spoiled brat. You still were, in a way. Spoiled brats don’t fight military-trained huge lady, and they surely don’t fight Mandalorians.

‘The Temple needs supplies. Luke gets them from me - from us. I work at a small shop in a town not far from the Temple.’

She nodded, while the Mandalorian kept quiet, visor trained on the kid who was happily downing his food like you hadn’t fed him since you’d departed.

‘Slow down, kid.’ You muttered without thinking and raised a hand to stop him. The stare of the Mandalorian stilled your movement, though, and you brought your hand back to your own cup.

‘You must be tired’, Cara continued. ‘Long journey ?’

Your hands gripped the cup harder at that, the words out of your mouth before you thought better of it.

‘Can’t tell you that.’

She leaned in.

‘Why not ?’

You swallowed, and met her stare.

‘The Temple’s location is secret. If I tell you how long we’ve been travelling for, that’s a piece of information. I can’t do that.’

‘Not even to the kid’s dad ?’ She quipped back, gesturing the unmoving warrior. There was a slight simmer of tension in the air. They don’t know you, they have every right to be suspicious, you reminded yourself. But you didn’t know them either.

‘He’s not the one asking. I don’t know who you are. This is the kind of information I could give to him, but not with you here.’

‘Yes, you can.’ A modulated voice interrupted. ‘I trust Cara with my life. She was there when the Jedi took the Child.’

It wasn’t so much the sentence itself that moved you, but the way Cara’s body slightly turned towards the kid and his father, the way her face grew grave.

‘A week or so.’ You quietly admitted, after a beat.

The Mandalorian hummed in answer and silence fell over you all. You were starting to feel uncomfortable when he spoke again, his voice harsh and cold as the Beskar he was wearing :

‘You’re gonna spend the day and the night here, but tomorrow morning, you’re both gone. It’s too dangerous.’

That, you hadn’t expected.

‘That’s- That’s not what Luke said-‘

‘If I’m in danger, then you both need to leave as soon as possible.’

———

The kid was screaming. You’d figured it would go down that way, with the Mandalorian intent on having you go back to the Temple. Then, a three-fingered hand landed on your cheek and everything went elsewhere.

The Mandalorian was on the floor of a ship you didn’t recognize, chest heaving up and down, and blood everywhere.

‘Stay with me’, you heard yourself say. ‘Come on, stay with me. I’m here, I’m gonna patch you uo. It’s going to be okay. Grogu- Grogu can do it too.’

When you came to, you were on the floor of your own ship, and Grogu was softly crying in the arms of the Mandalorian.

‘We can’t leave’ you choked, as Cara was helping you up. ‘We can’t leave.’

You took a few steps, and you threw up.

When you woke up, you were in a bed and a doctor was checking your vitals. She probed, and asked too many questions, but couldn’t find a single thing wrong with you. You weren’t about to tell her that a fifty-year-old kid had shown you a vision of yourself trying to save his father, so you let it be.

Instead, you used your best bed-ridden voice to convince the Mandalorian that you both should stay with him because you might just die if the kid pulled that kind of stunt again - and maybe you were right, because Grogu meant well but you felt like that time you’d had one week of sexy times with a nice Zeltron lady. You couldn’t walk properly, and your mind was elsewhere, though this time, the elsewhere was definitely not as nice as it had been back then.

Which is how you ended up on Mando’s ship, the Galactica, strapping up for a journey through memory lane. Apparently, since he was stuck with the two of you, Mando wanted to take the kid back to people who mattered to him.

Next stop : Tatooine.

And the welcome on that planet was something else. You liked Peli the moment you met her, with the way she gave shit to Mando just because she could. She took to you, too, and when, your nerves vibrating with excitement, you asked her where you could see a good fight, she pointed right where you needed to be and added, for good mesure :

‘Keeping the kid will cost you extra, but I can take care of him if you want.’

This was the Mandalorian’s money you were playing with, but you figured that if you bet some and won some, that wouldn’t be an issue. You agreed, and went on your merry way while Mando was out shopping for rations.

Except, when you got there, the thrill of it all got to you. Your skin itched to go up there, on the ring. To knock somebody out. You hadn’t felt that way in years. Maybe it was the thrill of the adventure. Maybe it was the Mandalorian, and his cold front. Maybe it was the Mandalorian, but for other reasons : you were supposed to save his life, you’d seen it. Maybe you could prevent this from ever happening if you went back in there.

No matter the reason, you did it. You watched the winner, raised your hand, and got up.

———

It had been easy. Easier than when you were younger. You’d been stuck on the Galactica for a while, and you’d needed release.

You won, fair and square, and went back to the ship, covered in blood but the weight of the ten thousand credits comforting at your side. You went to pay Peli but her answer surprised you :

‘Did you win ?’

‘Yes.’

‘So you ended that idiot ? The blond one ? I can never remember his name but he’s a pain. So smug.’

‘Yes, I did.’

Peli looked at you, and smiled.

‘Free of charge, then. I hope Mando is smart enough to keep you around.’

Mando himself said nothing about the bruises and the cuts on your body, but he let you heal yourself. You figured, then, he knew you could take care of yourself.

You spent a while with Peli, time passing like a blur, the days almost all the same. Mando didn’t seem in a hurry to see you leave anymore, indulging in the selfish feeling of joy to have the kid back. You kept going back to the cantina to fight. Kept winning, and the grin you wore every time you got back must have intrigued Mando because he came to see you fight, one night.

The moment you spotted him in the crowd both threw you off and cleared your mind to a point of concentration you’d never reached before. You didn’t stop to try and understand the feeling, not with the way you could hear every cheer, not with that visor looking right at you, not with that beast suddenly clawing at your belly with new ferocity. You didn’t stop and understand the feeling, because suddenly you were fighting him. Your faceless opponent became Mando in your mind, and as you threw punches with renewed ferocity, images - fantasies - spilled in your mind, of him taking you in a dark alley, both of you still sweaty and dirty from the fight. Even better was the fact that you knew you could never beat him. Would you yield, though ? Would you get on your knees and beg for mercy ? Or would your pride take over your lust and lead you to fight until he had you pinned down and unable to breathe ?

It was amazing, you’d reflect later, how one’s body could move on pure instinct, before for the rest of that fight, your mind was elsewhere but you were moving with a deadly precision, ready to strike, ready to hurt, ready to win. And win, you did.

He wasn’t in the cantina anymore when you came back in after collecting your winnings. The fire in your belly went out suddenly at that, an empty feeling replacing that burning sensation, your fingers no longer tingling but heavy with ache. Your opponent - you still hadn’t caught his name - offered you a drink you accepted, but drank too fast for it to lead to anything more. The urge to get out of there was only made stronger when the man in front of you asked, innocently enough :

‘You travellin’ with the Mandalorian ? You guys showed up here at the same time and he only ever shows up when you fight.’

So he’d come here before, was your first thought. The second, though, was much more unpleasant : the kid.

You were drawing too much attention to yourself. You left the cantina eager to get to the Battlestar, only to be stopped by an iron grip on your arm. Your reflexes kicked in and you landed a hard punch on - something very hard. The pain was so intense it travelled through your whole body and made you shiver, tears prickling at the corner of your eyes as your body curled onto itself.

‘It’s me.’ You heard, the modulated voice now familiar. And then, as an afterthought : ‘Sorry.’

‘A little warning, next time. That’d be nice.’ You all but wheezed, the pain in your hand burning you whole.

‘Sorry.’ The helmet repeated, even though the hand on you was not easing its grip.

You had some bruises on you, the morning after. A split lip, too, and an almost nasty wound on your left eyebrow. The biggest bruise of all, though, was the one on the hand that had struck the Mandalorian, a huge ugly shape, purple and green and blue. You couldn’t flex your left hand without tears coming to your eyes. You wondered how sick you were, because you couldn’t look at it without being turned on. It was a good thing that you were right-handed, too : you weren’t that incapacitated, and you could also keep touching yourself in a very capable way. Small blessings.

———

That grip thing, Mando squeezing your arm to lead you wherever, that iron grip to stabilize you, became a thing. And you were quickly getting that what he represented, that sense of danger about him, turned you on almost all the fucking time. The rest of the time, well, he was being a very good dad and that-

Fuck.

Let’s just say you had it bad.

You left for Mos Pelgo a week later, after Mando asked you why you didn’t go fighting anymore and you revealed your worries about being too much in the spotlight, and how afraid you were that it could affect the safety of the kid. After that conversation, he set course immediately for your next destination, leaving you just enough time to say goodbye to Peli.

‘Thanks for teaching that boy a lesson.’

You thought back on your first fight and answered, your grin predatory :

‘Oh, him ? He was too cocky, but not that good of a fighter, really.’

Peli laughed.

‘Not that boy. The other one. The one with a bucket on his head. Stubborn ass who won’t think for a second about what is good for him. You got him to relax, enjoy his time with the kid and remember people who care about them.’

You could tell it was a lot for her to admit that she cared about the Mandalorian himself so you just shrugged. You watched as she bid her goodbyes to the kid and his father, before she turned to you and added :

‘Hope I’ll see you again, Korra.’

‘Korra ?’ You asked.

It was her turn to shrug as she explained :

‘A silly story my parents used to tell me. In a galaxy far far away, there was a woman who could manipulate fire, earth, air, and water. But she was also very strong. Kicked everybody’s ass. You remind me of that story.’

It wasn’t until later, on the speeder, that Mando said : ‘Korra, I like that.’ With the wind blowing, you thought you’d imagined it. But then, he started calling you that.

Cobb was friendly, funny, a bit too cocky. A few years back, you would have gone for a man like him. The thought that you could, still, and that he might not be opposed to it was nice but not enticing enough for you to act on it. Still, the two of you fell into a rhythm of harmless banter, and flirting. What could have been fun became a game of pushing and pulling : the Marshal would make you laugh and Mando would just grab your arm, the feeling of his grip now familiar to you, something to ground you, even. You entertained the fantasy, for a moment, that he wanted you the way you wanted him.

And maybe, maybe, you were not wrong.

Here you were, a few days after landing, joking with the Marshal as you felt Mando’s hand grab your arm. Tight, like that time after the fight. That shouldn’t have made you restless but it dit, your knees bouncing with excitement at the idea to take on the Mandalorian himself. So when everybody started to go to bed, he grabbed your arm, again, and led you to the Battlestar. Once you were alone, the kid asleep, he dropped all the Beskar except for the helmet, and whispered, a challenge :

‘Come on, Korra, come at me.’

You did as you were asked, a nice obedient girl even though you were feral. He won, though. Of course he did. Your back was hurting against the floor as one of his hands kept you there, easily. He was looking at you, you felt, above you as one hand tied yours together, and the other on your ribs, right below your heart.

‘Din.’ He said.

Din, you understood, as your mind went back to that fight, that fantasy.

Din, you thought after he let you laying there, chest heaving, while he entered new coordinates.

------

If you want to be tagged just say the word.

#din djarin x reader #pedro pascal #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x female reader

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obsoletesystem · 6 years ago

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D&D Ask Meme

@wisdom-fangs asked me to do all the questions of this D&D ask post. So I did. 1. A favorite character you have played. I really like playing monstrous characters. Currently in Adventurers League, I play Frattek Venvaris, bugbear rogue/barbarian, who is a delightfully goofy character. But I also miss playing Bajur Mashoir, a very charismatic lizardfolk "voodoo" shaman, whose catchphrase was: "As you can see, I am an alligator, sir..." spoken in a thick southern brawl. 2. Your favorite character that someone else has played. During a one shot the guy that played an evil halfling warlock sacrificed himself to blow up the big bad with a block of dynamite. The true MVP. 3. Your favorite side quest. Idk. 4. Your current campaign. I DM a homebrew campaign, in which the party is stuck between sides in a war between the local Jarl and a fey duchess who has taken over a part of the woods. I also participate as a player in a slight homebrewed Salt Marsh campaign, in which I play a tiefling cleric of Pelor. She's got a Sad Backstory. 5. Favorite NPC. The Loathesome Gribble, an NPC in the game I DM, who is a very small tiefling sorcerer with an immense knife collection and a four-armed aasimar monk girlfriend. He is found in the most of unlikely places and his signature spell is "Gribble's Hand of Sand", which may or may be not magical, as it blinds a creature with sand, but the material component is just a handfull of coarse sand. 6. Favorite death (monster, player character, NPC, etc). The druid in our home game charged into giant stag form at a huge burning construct (The Burning Man from Burning Man, but moving), missed his attack, upon which the Burning Man rolled nat 20's on BOTH ITS ATTACKS. No advantage, no nothing, just two straight 20's. He grabbed the stag by its antlers, turned its head 360 degrees, and dropped a flaming, mutilated dwarf to the ground. 7. Your favorite downtime activity. I always like to do something that tells a little bit about the culture of the creature I play. When I was on haitus because of school, I described how Frattek had spend some time with his little bugbear niece, and had just returned from a fun little war (seeing as bugbears love to fight). 8. Your favorite fight/encounter. We had to fight a vampire spawn in a dank, dark basement, but it was light outside, and Frattek is incredibly good at grappling creatures, so we dragged the vampire out from his basement into the sunlit street, and then made a run for it as we had broken into a house. 9. Your favorite thing about D&D. Coming together with friends and not drinking (a lot) or smoking weed. I like doing those things too, but it is also fun to just hang out and play games where heavy drinking is not really handy. 10. Your favorite enemy and the enemy you hate the most. Dragons are the best, spellcasters are the worst. Spellcasting Dragons are the bees knees. My players, however, are going to hate a certain spellcaster very much. Once they find out... 11. How often do you play and how often would you ideally like to play? Usually once a week, but I'd love to be able to balance twice a week. One day as player, one day as DM. 12. Your in game inside jokes/memes/catchphrases and where they came from. "Name and occupation, please" comes from when we played Pathfinder, and one of the characters died, but I didn't want to get rid of him yet or he was set up to be reincarnated or some shit idk. Anyway, his soul arrives in purgatory, which turns out to be this bureaucratic office, where he has to stand in line for a long, long time, before arriving at a booth/desk type situation, in which an Ophanim angel (one of them burning wheels full of eyes) floats that asks with a bored sigh "Name and occupation, please". The player answered, and was set up for reincarnation, which involved shooting his soul from a cannon/drop tube into the unborn baby of a local woman. The child grows up unnaturally quickly, and because it has the soul of a mature orc barbarian, it is more than a little trouble. Nephertheless, the "Name and occupation, please" gag remained forever. 13. Introduce your current party. My Homeboys, the Lords of Okab Volal, are Nazreen, a wood elf ranger who missed her wolf, played by @tabula-wasa, Tophr Thanestone, the previously mentioned dwarf druid who was murdered by a giant flaming effigy and subsequently reincarnated/put into the body of a frost elf woman (something he hasn't come to terms with) played by our bearded friend Glenn, and Adelon Vrena, half-elf bard/cleric/divine soul sorcerer a.k.a. Healer Supreme, who is really righteous but not above torturing a captive githyanki, and played by Arnaud. The Schadestenen (meaning "Damage Stones", as in dice), which is the OG Adventurers League group in the Spellenhoorn in Hoorn, consist of Aiden Rainbowscale (Albino orphan wood-elf monk/barbarian), Fjorgyn (dwarven cleric of Moradin, who died last week and still suffered from the Death Curse. RIP.), Frattek Venvaris (Bugbear barbarian/arcane trickster and gladiator/luchador, played by me), Gideon Thornton (cowardly Half-Orc Hexblade), Grommash Hellscream (Stereotypical Half-Orc Barbarian. Great guy.), Ruldra (disgraced Hobgoblin undead-hunting Ranger), Cadence (Powerful but stupid Half-elf Grave Cleric/Divine Soul Sorcerer who never learned how to read), Ullr (Arnaud's Gloom Stalker and Human Machine Gun), and Darin (half-elf ranger and Master Of Backflip). The Peeps from Salt Marsh, DMed by the guy that plays Darin, in which Arnaud plays William Wisenose, The Awfully Lucky Halfling Build (halfling wizard/bard/whatever), Cadence's player plays Sylver Ravenstar (half-elf bard/hexblade/run away princess), her friend plays Samm Enoch (Aasimar Bard and Very Handsome Man), Aiden's player plays Ankis (Aasimar Celestial Warlock and very secretive about both these facts because Back Story), and his friend plays Vena Malum (Human Bloodhunter, who is really buff and does that swirly thing with her falchions, and oh my...), Grommash's player plays Morgain of Astora (human paladin of Pelor, and companion/boyfriend/substitute son to my character), and I play Paytsarra Avèry (winged tiefling cleric of Pelor). Praise the sun. 14. Introduce any other parties you have played in or DM-ed. We had one party consisting of a drider, a very evil dwarf, a fire genasi, a gnome psychic, and a kenku ninja at one point. When the evil dwarf died, and I introduced the guy's new drow "medic", I knew I lost all cohesion of the group. 15. Do you have snacks during game times? My players do. I don't like snacks that much. 16. Do you play online or in person? Which do you prefer? In person. I tried playing online, and I think I would do again, but only if I'd have a really good headset. 17. What are some house rules that your group has? In the Salt Marsh campaign you double the value of the dice on a crit, which I think is disappointing. I just wanna roll a lot of dice :( 18. Does your party keep any pets? @tabula-wasa's ranger has a dire wolf...somewhere...

19. Do you or your party have any dice superstitions? Not that I know of. I do know some of my dice seem to roll better than others. 20. How did you get into D&D? How long have you been playing? I found a d&d character creation app on the web ages ago, and that sparked my interest. Later I joined a warhammer fantasy role play group with a friend I had been rp-ing online with a lot, but this was the real deal, at Arnaud's house. He dmed number of campaigns for us, and later he joined my pathfinder group which turned into a D&D 5th edition group. 21. Have you ever regretted something your character has done? Yeah. Frattek decided to be a hero and tried to assassinate an ogre torturer. He failed his shot. We had to fucking run. 22. What color was your first dragon? The first dragon I fought as a character was a young Red Dragon. Even at 5th level, we whooped its ass. He found himself in a cave, surrounded by fools, and we beat him to pulp. The first dragon I put in front of my players was a young White Dragon. It kicked their asses. 23. Do you use premade modules or original campaigns? I usually homebrew my own campaigns, but I have dmed some AL sessions. 24. How much planning/preparation do you do for a game? Not an incredible amount, but for my home game I prepare ideas months, even years, in advance. For DMs 25. What have your players done that you never could have planned for? A lot. The most notable was casting Dispel Magic on the demiplane-item the cultists were in... and then opening the demiplane underwater. 26. What was your favorite scene to write and show your characters. I had these zombies that always repeated the last thing they said before they died, which was cool and creepy. But the thing I really wrote out was the description of how an Astral Ship warps space around itself, and what that looks like from the people on the deck of the ship. 27. Do you allow homebrew content? If it's well written, absolutely, but there is a lot of shit out there. 28. How often do you use NPCs in a party? When it makes sense, but I try not to do that too often. 29. Do you prefer RP heavy sessions or combat sessions? I prefer RP sessions, but I am leaning more toward combat. On the other hand, I don't think it completely excludes each other nor should it. I am of the opinion that 30. Are your players diplomatic or murder hobos? Rather diplomatic, but they can definitely kick ass. For Players 31. What is your favorite class? Favorite race? I like casters, and I will always have an affinity for wizards, but arcane tricksters and eldritch knights are cool too. I like elves, and I like monstrous races; goblins, hobgoblins, bugbears. I like things that are pretty and scary, or creepy and goofy. 32. What role do you like to play the most? (Tank/healer/etc?) I usually mix a bit of tank and dps. I don't like being very frail, but I do enjoy doing a lot of damage in one shot. 33. How do you write your backstory, or do you even write a backstory? I tend to write a character from a concept, and then build out the backstory. How did this person become the person they are today? Even if you have something of a bugbear, or a hobgoblin, or a yuan-ti. They have had a childhood, they have role models, they have culture. But what is that? What defines a character? What makes them they way they are? I don't like playing monstrous races that have been adopted by a "better, nobler race" like humans and elves and dwarves. I get the appeal, but I also think it is a little trite, and a little condenscending, almost. I think a lot about what defines a monstrous identity, and being a Cultural Anthropologist, I think a lot about the way culture shapes the values and morality and thus also behaviour of a creature. Do hobgoblins tell their children bedtime stories? What are they about? How will a bugbear struggle in regular humanoid society, where his violent urges -natural to him- are equally, or even more excessively violently repressed and punished? Is this just for bugbears? Will they then look for each other, and find each other in their shared cultural/natural tendencies? Are there goblinoid lawyers or activist groups, that seek to protect other goblinoids from unjust treatment under laws that aren't theirs? How will your life be if you are a second or third or even fourth generation inhuman creature in a human society? Do they dream of returning to a society that is 'theirs'? And is there even such a thing? And if there is, will they actually fit in, or forever be an outcast, neither hob nor man? I tend to poke at such questions with my character backstories. 34. Do you tend pick weapons/spells for being useful or for flavor? Everything is useful, since everything is always situational. If you plan only for situations in which you are going to kill every living thing, then you shouldn't pick something like Rope Trick, or Magic Circle. But you do you. I very much dislike decoupling "flavour" from functionality. This is a game of make-belief, so everything you do is flavour. The mechanics are an abstraction of a fantastic reality, and though inherently important to the working of the game (without rules, it would merely be improvisation, which is also a kind of game, but schwa), it is all flavour. People that brag about how much average damage they can do with this or that specific build tire me. 35. How much roleplay do you like to do? All of the roleplay! But please let me punt goblins into the garbage sometimes!

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tellerford13 · 8 years ago

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MO ASTOR- CHAPTER 28

We don’t own the bikes, brothers, or any “related” Sons of Anarchy, trust us, if we did we wouldn’t have the time to write. No money is being made from our stories. So, please don’t sue. It’d be a fruitless endeavor indeed. That being said, Harley, Journee, and any other newbies are ours, and we don’t share. :Whispers in creepy voice: “My precious.” The universe This reality is a mix of cannon, and our own ideas. We strive to keep the boys cannon, but since we will be shifting around some of the events, that will reflect in our writing and their personalities as well. It’s our goal to provide you with quality fiction, and solid, fleshed out OFC. We appreciate constructive criticism and love LOVE reviews, they are a writers life blood and definitely help encourage us and inspire us. We will be posting on our Tumblr where we’ll have fun pictures from time to time as well. http://tellerford13.tumblr.com We’ll also be taking requests for one shots, preferences or imagines for all things Sons at our other Tumblr, so check it out and send your thoughts!http://tellerford13oneshots.tumblr.com/ And just for fun, we’ve decided to start a Pinterest for the story! So if you want a glimpse at our girls and see into our world, check it out! https://www.pinterest.com/tellerford/

A/N: Thank you all for your continued support! It truly means the world.

Mo-Astor Chapter 28

Chibs

“How’s married life treating you?” Tig asks.

I turn to him and narrow my eyes. It can be hard to decipher how he means something by tone, but we’re close enough for me to read his mannerisms. His eyes are steady, and his facial expression is serious for once.

“Damn good, and you know it.”

He grins. “Yeah, I did. Wanted to hear it from your own mouth though. Not many of us get a shot at the real deal. I watched the two of you dance around each other for years. I wasn’t surprised really when you came out with your relationship. Hell, I would’ve taken a crack at her if I didn’t know where both your hearts lied.

I smile. He never misses a beat, even if he keeps it to himself. “And you weren’t going to clue me in?”

“Nah, you weren’t ready. Wouldn’t do me any good to tell you what you weren’t open to hearing. It’s funny you and the little prince all paired up and making actual homes and families. Clubs moving into the next generation.”

The wistful tone of his voice surprises me. He’s one of the many that love the life we live.

“You looking to settle down?” I ask, surprised by his seemingly sudden change of heart

“If I had a chance to do it again, right… maybe.” His face ripples like a disturbed pond and the ever-present grin returns. “Besides I got a wife by proxy now.” he pats me on the back, and I shake my head as I chuckle. “Aye.”

“She knew that before you two married right? No way is she breaking up my bromance.” He wraps an arm around my shoulder, and I laugh. Things are never dull with ole Tiggy around.

“Pretty sure she understood that since she hasn’t broken her foot off in your arse when you call her wifey.”

He throws his head back and laughs. “Oh, she’s rubbing off on you big time, Scottie.”

“Can’t say I mind it.”

“Yeah, I bet you aren’t, seeing as how it’s not the only thing she’s doing on you.”

I can’t help but stand a bit taller and smile when he says it. She’s all mine. My lovely lass to spoil and care for until I take my last breath. It’s more than I dared hope for or deserve.

“It must be good since you aren’t biting my head off.”

“For what? I’m not ashamed of anything we do. I’m well aware of how much of a lucky fuck I am.”

“That’s my Chibby.” He kisses my cheek, and I laugh as I finish my cigarette. I been cutting down since I got serious with Journee. I have a young lass to keep my health and other things up for.

I toss the butt on the ground and grind the dying embers out with my steel toe just in case.

“Ye let Wifey catch a hint of that change of heart, and she’ll be playing matchmaker.”

He turns thoughtful again. “Maybe one day I’ll let her.”

“Do I even want to know?” Clay asks as he joins us outside, effectively sending this softer side of Tig into hiding.

“I was asking him about married life.”

“Ahh. So what’s the verdict Chibby? She worth wearing the ole ball and chain for?”

“Always,” I say putting enough edge in my voice to be let him know I won’t be talking shit about my old lady while remaining respectful to his position. Some of the brothers treat their women worse than they do the crow eaters. I could never wrap me head around it personally. Why marry at all if it isn’t for love?

“Huh. Give it a few years until the new wears off,” Clay mumbles.

I grunt. “Can’t see it ever wearing.”

“Must be different when your wife is young, shiny and new. You married well. Between Gem and Happy, I never thought the poor girl would be claimed.”

“Guess it just took the right man.”

He eyes me with a narrowed gaze. I tense, unsure what he’s after. “Good answers.” He pats my shoulder and squeezes, and I feel a breath I didn’t know I was holding release. He was testing me. She’d lived under his roof for a spell and held the moniker Teller. Hearing him talk about her so callously would’ve made me reconsider the way I viewed my President. Testing, however, is something I’m very used to.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about from me, Clay. Journee is the only woman I even see.”

“Make sure it stays that way, or there’ll be hell to pay from more than one person around here,” he mumbles.

I smirk. It’s nice knowing my club has my old ladies back. “I keen it when I started a relationship with her. Gem and Jackie boy were both pretty vocal.”

“They would be,” Clay mumbles as he lights up his cigar. “I like to keep a happy home and a cohesive club. So you got to watch your step.”

“I think he’s got it handled. Chibs is a smooth motherfucker,” Tig says patting my back.

Clay nods his head. “Keep it that way? Happy wife, happy life.”

“Got it.”

It’s new territory in the club, this intermarrying. There aren’t many daughters still in good standing with their fathers around here, and Lee nor Journee have brought home local boys they were serious about. Lee was with Kick for some time, but his affiliation with the Grim Bastards always kept us well aware of the boundaries we could and couldn’t cross unprovoked. Not that he ever gave us a reason. The boy was as laid back as they come in the life. Part of me wonder why they never worked out, and the other is just happy they didn’t because Jax needs her to remain grounded. I’ve watched him struggle to keep his head above water. He’s tough in a lot of ways, but emotionally, he’s always needed an anchor.

Journee’s always taken some of that burden onto herself. It’s what siblings do, but it’s never the same as having a significant other who could hold you down. Lee in her role as bestfriend went a long way, but it was no contest to them now.

They’d have their growing pains, but I got a gut feeling this is exactly as it should be. She was always meant to be the queen. We could see it in everything Gem set up and said. She’s a master chess player, moving pieces around on the board. It makes her a bit terrifying to have as a mother-in-law.

“Alright, I’m going in. I got two more cars to finish before I can call it a day, and I don’t want to to be here any longer than I need to.”

“So cute, still in that honeymoon stage,” Tig drawls. I flip him off as I walk back inside, but I don’t deny it.

***

I open the door with Juice trailing behind me and I hide a smile. We’ve all settled into a routine I like. I never thought I’d have a family again in the traditional sense, and having the man-child I’ve always seen as a son under the same roof as my wife is everything. The smell of fresh bread and something mouthwatering fills my nostrils. She’s arranged her schedule, so she’s home by the time we get there more days than not, or makes a meal in the slow cooker. I’m fast forgetting the days of fast food, shitty crow cooking, and cold beds.

“Lass, something smells good.” I hang my cut on the hooks she’s set up for me and Juicy and walk through the living room to the kitchen where I find her and Opie’s daughter, Ellie.

“Ellie girl,” I say cheerfully.

She looks up at me and offers a small smile. “Hi, Uncle Chibs.” Donna is damn particular about who she allows the kids to be around. After Opie went in, most contact with the club stopped unless Gemma forced it. She allowed Journee and Lee to stay close, but I think Piney and Opie himself had something to do with that. As the children’s Godmothers, their bonds went deeper than the club.

“Baby boy has soccer games, so me and Ms. Ellie hung out and made dinner.”

Ellie nods happily.

“Whatever it is you’re making, it smells delicious girls. We’ll just wash up before dinner.”

“Is Juice here?” Ellie asks cheerfully. I hide my laughter. He’s a favorite with ladies of all ages.

“Hey Ell,” Juice says coming over to hug Journee and Ellie who blushes.

“Hi, Juice,” She says quietly.

“How’ve you been?”

“Good.”

“Better than good, tell them what you did last week,” Journee says. gently nudging her to open up.

“I got the lead role in the school play. I’m going to be Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz,” she says.

“Did you hear that? My niece is a star!” Journee says enthusiastically.

Ellie blushes. “It’s just a school play.”

“Oh no, you’re not downplaying this. That’s awesome.”

“Aye, she’s right, love. That’s brilliant. Congratulations on the role.” She’s so much like her father, tall for her age and quiet until she has something to say.

“Ma, what are we having anyways?” Juice asks.

She laughs. “Irish Beef Stew and Soda Bread.”

I moan. “I’m going to have to start running if you keep feeding me so well.” I lean in and steal a kiss, careful to keep it chaste in front of Ellie. Last thing I want to do is set Donna off about what she thinks is inappropriate behavior around a child. Once Opie went in she went into helicopter parent mode. I understand why, but it made her seem almost shrewish and uptight. It was such a departure from the woman she once was it saddened me to see.

“Can you set the table for six?” Journee asks.

“Lee and Jax coming over?” I ask.

“Yeap.”

“Alright.” It’s a pretty regular occurrence we eat at their house, or they come to ours. I think the girls are still trying to make up for the two-week separation. I don’t mind. We always have more to eat than we need. My little lass cooks for many. Can’t blame her the way Happy and Tig drop in. I get the feeling my best friend is lonely these days. With no Juice around to amuse him or me to shoot the shit with. I got to tell her about his moment of seriousness. Being Lee’s best friend, she gets Tig more than most. He’s been a surrogate Uncle. Albeit a pervy one.

I move through the bathroom and switch over to jeans and a black t-shirt.

“Hey, I think this is yours,” Juice says from the doorway. I spot the letter in his hand.

“Why would you be getting mail for me?”

“Well, I don’t’ know any Padraic in Ireland.”

I grin and hurry over. “This is from me nephew.”

“I figured seeing a how he has the same last name and all.”

I quickly open the letter, and my heart nearly stops at the site of the feminine handwriting. It’s from me Keri. My vision wavers and my knees go weak. I lean against the doorframe as I try to catch my bearings.

“Ma.”

I can hear Juicy beside me, but I’m unable to focus. I’m half afraid to look at the letter. What if she’s cursing me out for all the things I did wrong? I’m not sure I could stand to read that.

“Filip?”

I glance up into worried brown irises.

“It’s from Kerianne.” My hand trembles slightly.

She takes the letter from me and opens it up. Her eyes quickly scan the letter, and she smiles before she hands it over to me.

“Why don’t you take this to your chair in the living room? We’ll get the rest of dinner ready, okay?”

I trust her judgment. I nod, unable to speak around the lump damn near choking me.

“Why don’t you get your Da a glass of whiskey Juan Carlos,” Journee says in that sweet voice, that helps ease my fear. I don’t’ care about much in this world, but my daughter is my heartbeat. I don’t remember the walk to the chair, suddenly, I’m simply there and plopping down onto the gray lazy boy with a plaid blanket tossed across the back. Journee keeps it frosty to combat the heat. I pull the blanket over my lap and unfold the paper I swear holds a light floral scent, even after it’s trip across the ocean.

Da,

I’m really not sure what to say. After being denied contact, it’s so odd to write this, and know you’ll read it. I have so many questions. Do you like America? What do you do? Do you think about me? You said you did, but the way Mom talked…I always thought you never looked back.

I growl. Fucking, Fiona. Next time out paths crossed we’d have words. Two more years until my she hits eighteen, goes to Uni, and I gain more freedom.

I’ve wondered about you often. I know I have your eyes and Mom says your temperament. She’s quick to anger, and you have a slow burn, she said. I’ve never met Aunt Greer, but I see Padraic often. We’re pretty close. He makes me laugh, and Mom and him will actually allow me to go places with him. Paddy says your wife is nice, Journee. I saw a picture. She’s very beautiful.

Her words make my heart sing. There’s nothing I want more in the world than for the two of them to get along.

Do you think she’ll like me? I know you said I might be able to visit… what will she think? I know she’s really young, and mom says. Well. Stepmothers are the villains in books for a reason.

No, KerriAnne, no one wants you here more than your stepmother. I’m mentally writing a response as I continue to devour her words. She writes for the school’s newspaper, belongs to the Spanish club, and works for the stage crew. She enjoys drama but has no desire to be on stage. Her favorite color is sky blue, and she loved the dress we picked out for her. I close my eyes and hold the paper tight. Every detail she’s given me brings me closer to her. The saying better late than never rings in my head. I’ll take this second chance and make it work.

“You look like you need this.” I glance over and find Juicy holding out a glass of Jamison.

“Thank ye, lad.”

“Everything okay?”

“Aye. The letter took me by surprise. It was from me daughter. We’re back in contact through ma nephew.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sure he used your name to make sure Jimmy didn’t have a reason to suspect anything.”

“Oh, that’s cool. You know I’m happy to help any way I can.”

“That I do. You’re a good lad.”

I’ll never stop missing Kerianne, or regretting the time we’ve missed out on, but I have something here I won't’ take for granted.

***

“Tonight was fun. I like it when we all get together,” Journee says. I blink to ease my straining eyes and set the Stephen King book on my nightstand. I focus on my wife and my jaw drops. She’s in a soft pink camisole with flowers and a deep V, that has her full breasts nearly spilling free.

“Filip, I keep telling you to get your eyes checked.”

“I see just fine. Come here.”

She tilts her head and shakes her head coyly. “No, tonight is for you.” She walks over and climbs onto the bed, straddling my legs. “Daddy had a rough night, didn’t he?”

I nod, unable to resist the spell she’s weaving. It’s rare when she takes the lead like this. She’s still finding herself, and I’ll be damned If I do anything to discourage that. She massages my shoulders, and I lean back into the bed, watching her full lips as she comes closer. I trace her lips, and she opens taking me inside her mint flavored mouth. Our tongues tangle, and she circles her hips, grinding into me. My cock twitches and comes to life hardening as it stains to escape my boxers and get inside her heat. She takes a shaky breath. Her eyes are nearly black with passion.

She leans her head back, and I’m mesmerized by the sensual picture she presents. Her lips are parted, and her face is a work of art painted with passion.

“Ye’re so beautiful, Mo astor,” I whisper.

Her lips tilt upward. “You make me feel that way.” She tugs my shirt up, and we work it over my head. It lands on the floor with a whisper of sound. Her nails rake down my chest.

“Jaysus.” She bends down and nips at my stiff nipple , circling the other with her nail. I never even knew this turned me on. She takes her time, sucking, pinching, and teasing me as she slowly works her way down my body. My cock is at attention when she reaches the waist band of my boxers. Her eyes sparkle as she looks up and slides her hand under my waist band.

I lift my hips, working with her as she strokes me fast, and grips me tight. She bends down and circles my slit with the tip of her tongue. The muscles in my belly clench. She takes me deep, and I fight the urge to slam up and fuck her mouth. She hums and meets my gaze, loosening her throat. No words are necessary. I know she’s ready for me now. I drive home as she sucks me and bobs her head. Her mouth is a hot wet sanctuary that’s squeezing me just right.

I forget everything but the feel of her mouth suctioning around me and the look of complete acceptance and love in her eyes. She releases me with a pop, and I groan.

“Not where I want you to come, Daddy.”

“Then bring that pussy here to me love.”

She rips my boxers off with an urgency that has me leaking pre-come. She holds my base and eases down on me, inch by inch, wiggling as her body yields, and she struggles to fit me all in her tight core.

“So slick and tight, love.”

“Always for you.”

Fully seated, she presses her hands to my chest and eases up then drops down. She’s so wet she’s leaking all over, coating me with her desire.

“Just like that, love,” I whisper as I gather her wetness and circle her clit. I met her stroke for stroke as she loves me slow and thorough. I grip her hips and drive up, desperate to go deeper. She flexes around me.

“Oh, Daddy. I- I’m going to.” She splinters, contracting around me like a vice. My balls draw up, and I let go, spilling into her as she cries out, shaking. She collapses on top of me, and I plant kisses on her face. She giggles.

“Tickles, Daddy.”

I plant a kiss on her forehead and pull her closer as we catch our breath.

“I should move.”

“Let me fall asleep inside you tonight, lennan.”

“Aye,” She says.

I chuckle. “Laugh it up, Lass.”

“Are you feeling better?”

“Much.” I roll the ideal over in my head. “How would you feel about Kerrianne coming to visit.”

“When? I can get the spare room set up for her next to Juicy.”

I laugh at her enthusiasm. “I dunnae when. I haven’t asked her yet. Wanted to run it by you.”

“Your family is mine, Filip. You know that. She’s always got a home with us.”

“I’m jumping the gun. We’re just now reconnecting, but I’d like to give her the option for at least visiting for the summer, maybe even going to university here, near us?”

“We can more than afford it,” She whispers.

I smile. She’s had access to my account for years now. I needed someone to handle things when I couldn’t or if I died. It’s a real issue I never ignored. I needed to know my Kerrianne would be taken care of after I was gone.

“I love you, Journee Telford.”

“I Love you too, Filip Telford.”

#sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fanfiction #Jax Teller #chibs telford #Mo Astor

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