#i have such terrible posture lmao

[seiwas]

boyfriend iwaizumi hajime fixing your posture every time he sees you hunched over and slouching—the way he holds your shoulders and straightens it by rolling it back, thumbs pressing into your shoulder blades.

he gently pushes your lower back whenever he notices you curling into yourself, runs his fingers up your spine too.

and he does it all quietly, your only warning the feel of his hands on you.

it’s almost like he has a radar for it, some posture-sense that tingles every time your back is anything but straight.

when you complain about back pain, he snorts, mumbling a ‘wonder why’ before coming over to knead out the knots anyway.

he buys you an ergonomic chair to hopefully help out, even leaves x-rays and scans of bad backs lying around to give some subliminal message of what could happen if you don’t fix it now.

and when he takes you from behind, pushing down on your lower back to give him that arch he likes, he’s teasing, telling you that you only seem to listen when he has you like this.

he’s really starting to think, should he start fucking you with your back straight?

[wraithdance]

Damn I'm still getting notifications on this so I guess I'll elaborate on it for funsies lol

Content warning: AFAB!Reader, terrible british-isms, Reader is a firefighter and idk shit about that life lol, very NY/American coded, explicit language. Shorty getting tossed around like a hot n ready in the next part I just love to set the scene a lil lmao

Part one: The Firefighter

Your mother had always told you two things: 1) not to write a check that your ass can’t cash and 2) A hard head made for a soft ass. Unfortunately for you, you never listen. 

You were on the downward slope of a 48 hour shift and feeling every bit of it. Your captain had taken no mercy on the splitting headache you were nursing and designated you to crowd control on the northern sector of the McCallen theater. The heat of the flames enveloping the old building didn’t help with the already stifling heat wave. Sweat slides down your neck in uncomfortable pools that soak the under clothes beneath your turnout gear. 

While in the middle of reassuring an elderly woman whose granddaughter was in the building you’d caught sight of a large form attempting to cross the barrier from the corner of your eye. You’d whipped your head around so fast you’d damn near given yourself whiplash.

“Hey, get back behind the line!”

Your words die in your throat when you come face to face with the fucking grim reaper. He’s broad and dressed in layers of black from head to toe. His eyes, or what you can see of them from behind the eye black, bore into you from beneath his balaclava. 

What the fuck?

There's a moment where your throat closes up and your muscles lock despite your body screaming at you to run the other way. It’s not until he seems to dismiss you and turns like he’s going to continue on his merry way, that you gain back your senses. 

“Hey I said get back behind the line are you crazy?!” You bark, grabbing the sleeve of his jumper.

Who the hell wears a sweatshirt in the middle of June?

“This is an active fire! ” 

He looks at your offending hand and makes a sound you can only describe as a snort.

“Ya’ can bloody see that.”

This motherfu-

“Good job jackass,” You say between grit teeth “I’m glad you can see the fire, funny enough you can also see it from behind. the. damn. LINE!” 

The grim reaper twitches and if it's possible he looks bigger as he turns his full body towards you. 

You’re too hopped on adrenaline to give a shit about his posturing. You’d worked with sweaty macho guys for six years at the station and had been around servicemen your whole life. There wasn’t a pissing contest around that you would ever back down from. So, you puff out your own chest and meet him head on. 

“Sir, I’m not going to ask you again, get behind the barrier.” 

“Or wot.” you think you might actually catch a murder charge.

“You get behind the line like I asked you to, big boy, or I’ll toss your ass over it myself” You hiss. The big fuck just narrows his eyes in consideration. You’re preparing to make good on your threat, when another voice cuts in.

“Riley, What's the problem here?”

Great two of them. 

The second man is not as broad as the weirdo in black, but still just as barrelled chested. He maneuvers around the barrier like it's just a concept and not a physical deterrent. You have to roll your eyes at his boonie hat and the outdated beard. He had the same fashion sense as your grandpa.

He stops beside the reaper's right side and crosses his stocky arms over his chest, his beard twitching as he takes in your stance. There's something in his blue eyes that you might call appreciation, if it didn’t make you feel like you were on a serving platter. 

You really didn't have time for this shit!

“Like I told your friend here, I need you both behind the line, you're getting in the way of my job and I’m tired of repeating myself.” 

It might have been a childish thing to do but you can’t help yourself when you make rude shoo-ing motions with your hands. 

The newcomers' eyes tighten inauspiciously. An imperceptible look passes between the two mountains that you can’t read. It makes you shudder which only stands to piss you off further. 

It’s not the first time you’ve had some hyper masculine fuck question your authority while on a rescue. Hell, it's come to be expected at this point and you’d joined an online support group for firefighters who experienced the same for being non-cis white dudes. 

The issue is whatever energy these monsters disguised as men are emitting, is disorienting. Normally you would have asked for back up after the second time your request was ignored. Yet your radio still sits at your shoulder and your hands are shaking beneath your thick gloves. 

After a beat the man with the boonie hat speaks, identifying himself as the leader of the two. 

“Listen love, we’re SAS, we can help with the rescue if you just point us in a direction.” 

Your eyes are rolling before he even finishes, you knew it. Macho men.

“That’s nice and I’m auditioning for the Wiz! We have everything under control gentlemen but thank you for the offer!” 

Maybe it’s the migraine or the lack of sleep, but you can’t help but to dig the knife in deeper just a little bit. You’re smiling with your teeth and speaking in a baby voice before you can think twice about it.

“Why don’t you big strong men sign up for the next station tour and I’ll give you a nice badge and a sucker!” You clap your hands in mock excitement, before flattening your tone and expression “So that way, when you wanna play firemen, you can do it without jeopardizing the professionals! Fuck you very much, get off of my scene.” 

Looking back it was probably the thing that doomed you, but you’d been too caught up in the moment to see it that way. Your radio had rattled off with the sound of your captain calling you in for an assist.

You hadn’t thought to really sus out the reaction of the men you’d bitched out. Had been all too happy to give up your position dealing with them to a wet behind the ears rookie. 

After getting the fire under control and surviving the end of your shift you’d gone home and face planted on the couch. After chugging down your weight in electrolytes and ramen, you joined the server for the firefighter’s support group.

You’d been soothed by the jokes your online support system cracked when you retold the clusterfuck of a day. Before logging off for the night you get a friend request from some random account with a string of numbers and a skull icon. You snort but look through the profile. Scoffing when you see that it was made in the last hour.

Fucking bot accounts. You’d have to ask the mods to check out their spam filters next time they were on. 

<SR141698 has been Blocked!>

Ugh, you needed a bath.

Preview of next part:

“Open your mouth.”

Your eyes widen and you struggle against the tight grip around your chin. His warm hands only tighten, causing your lips to pucker. A husky laugh sounds from behind your shoulder and you can feel the brush of cotton against your ear.

“C’mon pretty girl, open up, captain just wants to give you a sucker.”

[willowser]

you know. i have this constant picture of bakugou in my head that i wish i could project for yall, but in it, he's so tall (and wide shoulders and broad back and a little hunched bc he has terrible posture and he still kinda stomps when he walks but it's less noticeable now but it makes him seem so commanding and and and—)

but i personally do not mind the idea that he ends up shorter than both deku and shouto LMAO we know shouto is tall and lean, and i do like the image of beefy, not-as-tall deku, but. there is something so funny and a bit endearing about bakugou being the shortest by a smidgen LOL

[triple-starsss]

(saunters in with a question phrased like im professionally interviewing you)

Silver and Shadow seem like they took a while to warm up to Sonic -- how long did it take for them to actually consider him a friend and how long did it take for them to /admit/ theyre friends? (and how smug did Sonic get when he realized he got these two bastards to begrudgingly like him lots hehe)

(walks out with none of the swagger i had before and terrible posture)

oh he was SOOO smug.

Silver warmed up to Sonic ALOT faster than Shadow did. Since they both had somewhat similar experiences it was alot easier to relate to one another (both going to public school, having jobs prior to the band etc etc). He did find him a little irritating at first but eventually just realised its a part of Sonic's charm LMAO

Shadow on the other hand, he's talked with others before sure, but the only person he'd consider a friend was his own sister. He was homeschooled so his childhood was quite a bit different to the other two.

i'd say the exact moment Shadow realised that okay, maybe these guys aren't so bad was before their first concert together. Sonic had helped him out of a panic attack (like to think he has some experience with them from Tails having them frequently when he was younger).

Silver was pretty open to admitting he sees them as friends, AGAIN FOR SHADOW, took him some time but i like to think it clicked when they were all just hanging out in the apartment together, like it was late and they were all taking turns playing something in the living room and it was just a yeah they're my friends sorta moment for him ABDJFH

[spoiled-milk]

blush blush bed head cannons [ft nimh, volks, kelby, ichiban, scale, logan, cashew, aki, haru, fuyu]

a/n: i am alive i promise!!! um i definetly didn't disappear off the face of the earth did not happen at all y'all. i have so much brainrot ideas but i've hit writers block so hard. spent who knows how long reformatting this blog.

content warning: none i think? slight mentions of the guys being all touchy touchy but that’s it. also not proofread

word count: ~1.8k

nimh

very very very VERY SHY

will not physically touch you not because he’s scared of you but because he’s scared of violating some sort of boundary

will put a wall of blankets between y’all

probably has at least one stuffed animal on his bed

if he’s feeling ballsy, maybe nimh will hold your hand but unless you initiate it he’s probably not gonna make any moves (platonic or romantic)

his back faces away from you when you sleep, but when he knows you’re asleep, he will turn over and stare at your cute nose and pretty eyelashes and the rising and falling of your chest to help him sleep

he would probably wake up before you so, unfortunately, you don’t get to catch him sleeping :(

volks

awkward but not in a creepy way he’s just so awkward promise guys

he would also be one to sleep facing away from you

he sleeps early and has a strict sleeping schedule (8 hours a night no exceptions according to his manager)

if you’re over at his house it doesn’t matter if you need to do some hw or other work you are going to bed with him at 10pm

he claims he’s not a cuddler, but deep down in my heart i believe that he will snuggle you in your sleep when he's confident that you're asleep

it would start where you two sleep on opposite sides but then when you wake up in the middle of the night for the bathroom, he’s got his hands on your upper back and another one on your lower waist

at this point you don’t have to the heart to wake him up, so you drift off to sleep again

volks wakes up in the morning horrified that he was all up in your personal space but a part of him wants to go back to sleep because you’re so warm and snuggly

kelby

early to bed early to rise type person because duh he’s an athlete

sleeps at 9pm so that he can be up at 5am for his morning jog lol

big on physical affection so will probably snuggle you on your sleep

if y’all are sharing a bed, he probably has a twin bed that he’s too tall and too attached to so you will have to sleep on top of him (not that he’s complaining though lol)

lives to spoon you. he loves the feeling of cradling you like a heated up stuffed animal

honestly, i think he would fw being small spoon too but he knows because of how tall he is, it would be difficult on his partner. but if you went out of your way to cradle him and run your fingers through his hair he would probably melt

kelby has no problems sharing beds with you as long as you don't have problems sharing with him

ichiban

definitely more on the shy side without a doubt you can't convince me otherwise

ichiban for sure has an abhorrent sleep schedule. sometimes he'll be in bed and out by 10pm and wake up at like 8am but other times he'll stay up until 4am and sleep in until 12pm

would want nothing more than to hug you tight in his sleep but the thought of you being so close to his body tells him otherwise. so if y'all are in bed together, you're probably gonna have to initiate snuggles if you want them

he probably rolls around in his sleep lmao but he has a king sized bed probably, it wasn't so pleasant when he had a smaller bed like a twin sized bed

ichiban will sleep with his back against the wall. he also sleeps in just boxers / pajama pants

scale

another person with a terrible sleeping schedule probably

he has tried to fix it desperately, but with training and his assassination thing, it's difficult

i would like to imagine that he has a futon to sleep on to help with his posture or something idk

if y'all share a sleeping space, he will put two or three pillows between you and him

that only applies if he sleeps at all around you, yk someone has to be awake to watch over (you’ll have to remind him you’re not in immediate danger)

he definitely would put like a bunch of things in front of the doors or windows that make a lot of noise if dropped or moved so that he wakes up if someone were to break into his home while asleep

you’ll need to teach him how to relax a little bit when he sleeps scale is a very stiff guy

logan

another guy with a troubled sleeping schedule, BUT ITS NOT HIS FAULT

because he’s a firefighter he has regular normal people shifts and then he has those overnight shifts. after those overnight shifts he will take a shower immediately when he gets home and if you’re at his home he will drag your ass into bed with him

not that you mind ig??? poor guy looks tired after those overnight shifts so you kinda just let him as long as he lets you grab a book or something to read while he’s out

another snuggler for the books. he’s so warm, logan runs so warm so it’s great in the winter but not so much in the summer months

he has no problems with engaging in physical affection with you. he’ll hold your hands in those hot months when y’all sleep and wrap you up in his arms in the winter

another person who also sleeps in his boxers, since he’s super hot (temperature wise ya dingus) clothes when he sleeps are never an option

cashew

ok i think in one of his voice lines he says he stays up late reading books so uh yeah another boy with ABHORRENT SLEEP SCHEDULE

if y’all sleep together, he will always fall asleep later than you. cashew will stay up with a book in hand and lamp light on

if you have trouble sleeping at night he will read you whatever he’s reading at the moment and with his soothing voice it will put you right back to sleep

if you wake up from a nightmare and cashew for some reason is up (ugh go to sleep you bookworm), he is so good at comfort. he’ll reassure you (yk telling you “it’s okay I’m here”) and rub his hands on your back

he’s also another physically affectionate man. he feels so giddy when he gets to hold your hand while you sleep or when he gets to hold you close to him as he finally gets some shut eye

when he wakes up, he finds that you’re now the big spoon. you’re holding him with your hands in his hair and he thinks that he’s in heaven for real

he can feel his ears turning red at this point

aki

he would not own a bed frame lets be honest look at him and tell me that he owns a bed frame

he’s also physically affectionate with you in bed like snuggles and whatnot

aki LOVES being the big spoon. loves the feeling being the big guy (regardless of his height) and any chance he gets to protect you or portray any masculine traits

if he had to pick a bed frame he would pick that lightning mcqueen bed frame that kids pick because he thinks it looks cool

regardless of how hot or cold it is outside will cuddle with you. he cannot go one night without his hands on you (but he would respect your boundaries should you express being uncomfortable)

aki likes to be touchy in his sleep so sometimes when you wake up before him you find his hands up the front of your shirt or under your shirt on your waist

one time as a prank he tried to keep you awake as long as possible to push the human limits, but when he saw how miserable you were trying to go about your day he immediately feels bad. so he takes you back to your home and tucks you into bed with an apology for taking it too far

haru

he is a HUGE fan of physical affection, if you share a bed with him he will be handsy with you

probably owns a regular bed like im talking king sized bed with comforters and a bed frame with a headboard with silk pillowcases

haru also sleeps with a silk eye mask on probably helps him go mimimimi

another man who only sleeps in his boxers but instead of comfort it’s because he knows he’s hot and he wants to see if you act up

i think he only wants to be big spoon because that’s what all his past flings wanted but after you hold him in your arms one night his life is changed

usually haru will be big spoon but there are some occasions that he’ll want to be held by you and when you do pls run his fingers through his hair and play with it he likes it trust me

another man who loves the stick his hands up your shirt if given the opportunity to. he loves the feel of your skin on his

fuyu

now, he would sleep on a futon because yk, he’s an old kitsune man. i bet he believes that the newer younger kitsune who have mattress beds should return to using futons

i mean, think about it. you save on space since you can put the futon away without any issue, it’s better for your back, and some of them come with heaters (great for winter)

but then he stays over at your house one time. you unfortunately have a regular mattress, he won’t admit to you that he’s changed his mind but his actions unfortunately give him away

fuyu likes how soft your mattress is. how much your blankets smell like you, as if you lived in those sheets for eons. how warm you get in those sheets make fuyu fall asleep really early easily

he usually is big spoon because let’s be real, that man is 6’8 there’s a very small chance that you would be able to spoon him comfortably if you’re significantly smaller than him (which unfortunately i am)

same thing applies with his clothes, he will usually sleep in boxers only because pajama pants are not made for people his size

he will ask to be physically affectionate with you. he sleeps with plenty of space between y’all. he will only hold your hand in your sleep

fuyu likes to put his hands around your waist and hold you that way if you let him. he would put his face in the crook of your neck (his new favorite spot). the way his snuggles with you screams “old gentlemanly man”

[holewithinahole]

The Spirit's in It | Egon Spengler x nb!reader [1/3]

Summary: “I didn’t know psychology doctors also specialized in particle physics, is all.”

What you meant as a light joke to relax him did quite the opposite. He straightens, righting up his glasses one more pointless time. “I have a degree in nuclear engineering,” he states before walking out, leaving you confused and feeling like you’ve spent the entire time offending him unintentionally.

Warnings: dubious science, non-native writer, non-beta'd

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Ao3 Link

Woopsies, I'm back to plaster my insecurities on fictional characters. This work is part of a two-part series which follows the events of the Ghostbusters primary canon. The first part, set during the first movie, will be cut in 3 smaller bits for Tumblr. When all parts will be posted, I'll upload it on Ao3. The parts are all written, so it'll be released soon enough.

I just want to do a little disclaimer. Usually my 'reader' characters are very loosely characterized so anyone can project on them. However, this reader might not fit everyone? I'm sorry about that. Overall, if you're autistic, on the aro/ace spectrum or just a tiny bit ND, you might feel more connection to the reader lmao.

Ah! Also, the science sucks, pls ignore. It can be read as a prequel to It's always the quiet ones, btw.

Summer, 1984

This is a good song, you think, the beat intense enough to distract the back of your brain as you write down the last advancements of your research. You’ve spent the entire month of July reading books and other scientists’ papers, but not managing – until now – to sit down and order the large number of notes you piled up. Running on the pure energy of your hyper-focused state, a dozen cups of coffee and a single chocolate bar, you definitely didn’t notice the man stepping into your lab, not until you randomly glanced up and met the disconcerted gaze of an unknown guest.

“Excuse me?” he mouths out.

You straighten in your chair so quickly your back snap.

“Ah! Yes! Sorry, what is it?” you stammer, taking out your headphones with shaky hands and fumbling with your Walkman.

The man stands at the entrance of the lab, strangely stiff, seemingly assessing his next course of action before taking exactly four steps toward your desk.

“I would like to borrow a soldering iron.” He rights his glasses up his long nose.

The first thing you take note of is the low modulation of his voice; an unusual pitch that seems to vibrate directly out of his chest. The second is his wide, rigid build. From your chair, he towers over you, and your neck is starting to hurt from stretching uncomfortably (it might just be your overall terrible posture.)

You’ve been staring a little too long so you clear your throat and get up. “And you are? Not that I’m unwilling to lend you a soldering iron but I can’t just give my tools to strangers–”

“Dr. Spengler, I work at the psychology pole of this university,” he interrupts.

He looks at you like you’ve got a stain right in the middle of your forehead. You glance away.

“Psychology? What do you intend to solder? A loose neuron?” You stand up, cracking up a joke nervously.

“I assure you I don’t conduct any dangerous experiments on unwilling subjects.”

Despite the tension, it’s the ‘unwilling’ that does it for you and you let out a chuckle. Finally meeting his eyes, the light frown he adorns is either one of incomprehension or irritation, making you drop the smile immediately.

“Uh–” you croak out before you decide better not to say anything. You both end up looking awkwardly at each other, and time seems to be stretching to amplify your discomfort – and probably his as well. It feels like orbiting a black hole while he’s rushing through the universe at 18.5 miles a second.

Smart enough to be a researcher, stupid enough to ruin a simple conversation.

Fingers fidgety, you walk away to rummage through your closets, taking out the tool and handing it to him. “I do intend to have it back soon, Dr. Spengler.”

There’s a slight hesitation in his hand before he takes it, nodding curtly. In your defense, you do try to smile, even if it’s an uptight, embarrassing attempt. Oddly enough, he doesn’t leave, staring at the iron for a couple of seconds.

Abruptly, he clears his throat, looking intently at your face. “I’m improving a prototype that detects the presence of paranormal entities and directs me to them using a boron-trifluoride counter tube and a platinum electrode.” He doesn’t even take a breath. “A component of the rate meter I installed seems to be defective, and the cable of my soldering iron broke while I was working.”

He comes to a sudden stop, mouth half-opened but doesn’t resume his explanation. At a loss on how to react –and surely gaping at him considering you weren’t expecting to be slapped across the face by a presentation on neutron detectors, you whisper a small: “I see.”

A nervous twitch at the corner of his mouth makes your stomach drop.

“Uh, I mean; you can borrow mine!” You let out a tiny laugh. “I didn’t know psychology doctors also specialized in particle physics, is all.”

What you meant as a light joke to relax him did quite the opposite. He straightens, righting up his glasses one more pointless time. “I have a degree in nuclear engineering,” he states before walking out, leaving you confused and feeling like you’ve spent the entire time offending him unintentionally.

Ground control to Major Tom, your circuit’s dead, there’s something wrong, screams your forgotten Walkman.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Dr. Spengler didn’t come back to your lab after your disastrous first meeting. He did return the iron, though. You simply found it on your desk one morning at seven o'clock, electric cable neatly wrapped around the handle.

You were secretly hoping for the doctor to come back to your lab to hand the iron back, so you could have apologized and asked more about his work, about his degrees… anything really. You had planned the interaction at least thirty times, going through a series of ice-breaking sentences that all relied on the fact that he would be back. He had preferred to avoid you, which couldn’t compel you to go see him yourself. Clearly, you had left a bad impression, and anxiety wouldn’t let you go look for him to apologize.

In the meantime, intrigued by his academic history, you started going through published papers by Dr. Egon – you quickly learned – Spengler. And if you thought you couldn’t get more curious about this mystery of a man, you browsing through numerous seemingly random articles – like ‘Quantum tunneling in anastomosis formations and nuclear exchanges’ – made you raise many eyebrows. Your fascination reached new heights with his brilliant article on ionizing radiation, written in M.I.T. no less. Egon Spengler had become the person you wished to chat with the most yet the most inaccessible.

You can think of a million questions to ask him, a million conversations to have. Why ionizing radiations? Did he have an interest in cosmic particles? Were his studies on gamma radiation related to his microbiology degree? How did he end up working in the psychology aisle of Columbia? Could ectoplasms really be quantified as a network of negatively charged particles?

Your life became filled with thoughts of the doctor, so you blamed it all on professional curiosity and you pushed yourself back into your work. Labs have been deserted by most researchers, preferring to treat themselves to a well-earned vacation. Nothing you can’t agree with in essence but previously attempted vacations had instilled a strong feeling of dread in you: you showed yourself incapable of not visualizing the amount of unfinished work. It’s not as bad as it sounds, really, to be work-obsessed; you love your work. Summer in Columbia is peaceful, solitary but also desperately unstimulating. Researching alone is undoubtedly slower, especially in your field, and knowing there’s an ideal candidate for some great brainstorming a few buildings away is nerve-wracking.

After an entire month going by with no new interaction with Dr. Spengler – not even sighting him at the corner of a corridor, the awkwardness that made him run away fuels your guilt. However, the opportunity of meeting again with Dr. Spengler comes unexpectedly. It comes with a mandatory meeting with the dean of the academy.

“You’ve been summoned as well, uh?”

You snap out of your social distancing trance. “Sorry?”

Next to you stands another professor with an easygoing smile and a relaxed stance. “Dean Yaeger. He likes to summon us like he’s royalty,” he jokes followed by a low staccato of a laugh.

“Oh,” you pointlessly say. “Yeah, he tends to do that.”

He offers his hand, showing another pearly-white-toothed smile. “I’m Dr. Ray Stantz, department of psychology.”

You offer your name back as you shake his hand. “Department of Physics.”

“Neat.” Dr. Stantz grins. “You should drop by our aisle sometimes. Spengs has a degree in physics; I’m sure you’ll get along well.”

“Who?”

“Dr. Egon Spengler, my colleague and friend.”

“Oh.” How you despise idle chatting. “I know him. He came to my lab to borrow a soldering iron about a month ago.”

“Venkman – our other colleague, forced him to go ask; he was so grumpy after being stopped in the middle of his experiment.” Dr. Stantz sure does enjoy making conversation. “He returned it, right?”

You have the impression he already knows the answer. “Yes, he did.”

“What field of physics do you specialize in by the way?” he asks excitedly. You have to say his jolly attitude is endearing, slowly getting you more at ease.

“High-energy physics.”

“That’s amazing, man. ‘actually wish I knew more about it. You should definitely swing by our lab soon. You can take a look at what we’ve–”

“Ah. Dr. Stantz.” Dean Yeager has the most distasteful expression on his face. “You may come in.”

Dr. Stantz gives you an apologetic look as Yaeger nods at you. You remain standing in front of the door, anxiety spiking up. Now you have no other choice than to go, or it’ll be rude, right?

Shit.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It took you more than a week of conditioning to get your ass moving, leading you, once more, in front of a closed door. You have to say, this part of the psychology department is far from what you’ve imagined. You wonder what Dr. Stantz, Dr. Venkman, and Dr. Spengler did to offend Dean Yaeger to the point of being located in the university equivalent of a demilitarized zone. No wonder they need to borrow equipment from the physics department. The bright red ‘Burn in hell Venkman’ tagged on the door isn’t the most welcoming sight either.

You reluctantly raise your hand and knock four times. The shuffling you hear inside almost makes you run away. But thankfully – or miserably you’re still unsure about that one, an unknown man opens the door. Dr. Venkman, you guess.

A lazy smile stretches on his face. “Can I help you?” There’s a low edge to his voice, something that’s intended and practiced.

You try not to come out as too appalled. “I’m looking for Dr. Spengler.”

Dr. Venkman raises an eyebrow, and you immediately chastise yourself. At that moment, you see Dr. Spengler popping his head behind him and you lose your train of thought… and your words. “Uh, Dr. Stantz told me to–”

Dr. Venkman opens his eyes almost comically wide, pivoting slowly between Dr. Spengler and yourself. “Aaal-right. You know what; I have to meet up with Veronica of the literature department so– I’ll leave you guys to it.” He claps obnoxiously on his friend’s shoulder before departing, sliding past you while whistling some tune.

You watch him go, slightly distracted when Dr. Spengler grabs your attention again. “Dr. Stantz isn’t here today.”

“Ah, I see…” No wait–

“He’ll be here tomorrow at 8 am.” He angles his body towards the inside of the room like he’s wanting to go back to what he was previously doing.

“Actually,” you force out, heart at the edge of your lips. “I wanted to apologize to you.”

Only the small widening of his eyes behind his frames indicates his surprise because his voice remains soft-spoken. “Apologize for?”

Better to be honest than invent a stupid excuse he’ll probably spot immediately. “Yes, I clearly made you uncomfortable last time. I was only trying to idle-chat, but I’m terrible at it.”

“What makes you think you made me uncomfortable?” Dr. Spengler asks.

A few seconds pass. “…because I went out of my way by questioning whether or not you had the knowledge to speak about particle physics?”

“Did you?” You realize he’s probably genuinely asking, not as a way to rile you up but as a way to understand. Somehow, it calms your nerves. Just a little.

“No,” you say. “I’m sorry… you just looked upset when you left.”

He faces you completely this time, taking his time to answer. “Then I’m the one apologizing. I was grateful for your help, but I failed to show it.”

Some part of you wonders if it’s entirely true. You brush it off. “It’s alright. I guess we’re not good at understanding social cues, uh?”

He seems to be pondering something. “I’ve been told that before.”

You chuckle. There’s a tension off his shoulders, and you thank Dr. Stantz internally.

“I’m actually working on a prototype of particle thrower. Your input would be appreciated.”

“A what?!”

[sirdindjarin]

The Choice - (Din Djarin x f!Reader)

After returning Grogu to his kind, the Mandalorian must also face the consequences of his bounty hunting. Or:Din Djarin Has Two Very Bad Days.

The Savior / The Concession / The Choice (END)

AO3 Link

A/N: Canon-divergent - Grogu is saved at the Seeing Stone. Citing again my same sources from The Concession.

TAGS: two smut scenes, helmet stays on, helmet comes off, child neglect lmao (din trusts grogu not to get into trouble way too much), angst, fluff, light torture lol, allusions to sex, P in V, rough-ish P in V.

MAY THE FOURTH BE WITH YOU

It happened slowly. The change that the Mandalorian wrought in you, though dramatic, was one born of love and patience. While he had always detested your acting like a servant to him, now you were banned from even feeling like a lesser lifeform. Din insisted you learn whatever he could teach you. You needed to know how to protect yourself, and how to trust yourself. He had even demanded that you learn to control the Razor Crest. That had been a scary day. 

Day by day, you began to see yourself through the Mandalorian’s eyes. Self-esteem through your own merit bloomed, and it was the encouragement of Din Djarin that watered the soil. 

Once, during a particularly grueling training session, Din saw defeat darken your eyes though he hadn't yet won.

“No. Don’t do that,” his modulator flatly stated as he relaxed his posture.

A caught breath later, you'd asked what he meant.

“Don’t concede the fight before it ends.”

“You’re going to win. I’m terrible with strategy.” 

“Then rely on your strengths. You are quick. Resourceful. Don’t give up again.” 

He had waited, patient and calm, until he saw the fire return to your eyes, and then he sprung at you. 

Your favorite weapon was the smooth beskar spear Din had been gifted by the Jedi he’d met. It was hard to hide your admiration of it. An ideal weapon for you, it was your frequent choice during your sparring matches. You’re grateful Din even allowed you to touch it. But Din was far from offended by your fascination and talent with the spear; he found it turned him on, actually.

Days spent sparring always ended in another, more intimate, type of physical activity. Sometimes, such as the day he watched you give up, it was tender and slow. Sometimes it was as desperate and aggressive as the first time he had taken you for himself. You loved both.

Tonight, after he eases himself from you and tucks you in his lean arms in the dark, he is quiet. Though Din was often contemplative after lying with you, this silence has the strain of anxiety. It sets you on edge. You let him drift through his own mind until finally his low voice fills the tiny room.

“As a Mandalorian, removing my helmet is forbidden. While I have technically broken this rule, you have not seen my face.” It's obvious he's thought about this in depth; the tone of his voice is rich with unseen emotion. “That intimacy is reserved for committed partners. For those who share in a riduurok.”

You don’t mean to tense up, but his seriousness forces every fiber of your body to listen, to absorb his words. 

“You okay?” He murmurs when he feels it.

You nod on his chest, so he continues.

“When a Mandalorian removes their helmet for another, they are asking that a decision be made. You have known me as no one has. When my helmet is removed, free of all impediments, then will I be asking that same question.”

What decision was there to make? To explore your options? You’ve been enslaved for most of your life, but even you can see that this - this with him - is as good as life gets. There was nothing more you could ask for, let alone want. If you were going to tie yourself to anyone, it would be Din Djarin - a man of sheer will, loyalty, and an Outer Rim type of honor. Your body relaxes.

“I understand. If that moment comes, I’ll have an answer.”

“It is not a question of ‘if,’” he states, his sultry voice full of restrained feeling. 

You can’t see him, but still your head tilts up to his face. You let your fingers drag through the patches of hair along his jawline, and then you press a kiss to his pulse point on his neck. 

“I mean, I can give you my answer now… if you’d like?” He can hear the smile in your voice.

His muscled arm pulls you tighter against him, as though your answer might be no. You hear Din’s hair scratch on the durasteel wall as he shakes his head.

“I don’t mean to rush you. I only wanted you to understand the way I will do this.” 

The room quiets again as you trace his lips, then his throat, then lower. Small bumps appear on his skin, and you brush over them. 

“I’ll never understand why this feels as good as it does,” he sighs contentedly. “All we are doing is touching.” 

Agreeing, you laugh, “I don’t either. But I never want it to end.” 

“Good,” Din gruffly replies.

___________________________________

The Mandalorian feels the time slipping through his grip. Too many weeks had passed since his meeting with the Jedi. The Seeing Stone awaits Grogu. Determined to do right by the child and his creed, Din finally navigates to Tython. You watch from the Razor Crest as Din cautiously sets Grogu upon the Stone. Din waits. You wait. 

For hours Grogu sits there, consumed by the blue light around him, reaching out. When the sun begins to meet the rocky horizon, Din treks back to the Razor Crest to check on you, and that’s when everything falls apart.

***

As you lean forward in the cockpit of the Razor Crest, the Mandalorian swoops his creaking ship down an embankment and fires upon an errant Imperial TIE fighter. You’ve been around good pilots, but Din is the best. Despite the grief you gave him for continually abusing his ship, he truly is talented. 

Another TIE fighter screams past, and Din pulls the Razor Crest up from its dive. He fires two blasts, but his first shot was true. The TIE fighter explodes.

On the Stone below, as Din makes another pass, you can see pure Force flowing around the child. His eyes are closed. 

“How much longer can this take?” You ask rhetorically. You know Din is as exasperated as you are. Probably more so.

“I tried to get him back, but the shield was too strong.”

“I don’t think that’s a shield, Din. It’s the Force.”

“Whatever it is, it won’t let me get to him,” the worry in his modulated, tired voice breaks your heart. 

“In that case, at least he’s safe,” you try to reassure the Mandalorian. “If you can’t get to him, neither can the IMPs falling from the sky.” 

Din presses his lips together underneath his helmet. While you have a point, he wouldn’t feel right about this until the child was back with him. 

The Mandalorian has been shooting down incoming Imperial fighters for almost an hour, and he’s starting to believe it won’t end when his radar picks up a different, older spacecraft. You shoot forward, staring at the viewer. 

“Is that an X-wing?” You ask incredulously. “The Republic came all the way out here?” 

If it’s Republic, that means it’s low on Din’s priority list, so he pays it much less attention than the three TIE fighters that break the sound barrier above him. 

You’re suddenly thrown back in your seat when the Razor Crest’s shield system rings the alarm and Din calmly spins the ship skyward, arcing over another ridge to maneuver out of the target lock of an IMP. When he banks, he yanks the thruster backward, and the TIE fighter screams by. Din wrenches on the trigger and the black craft disappears in a ball of fire. 

Rising up through the flame, another black fighter barrels down on the Razor Crest. Before Din can shove the Crest into a better attack position, the third fighter flanks him. You hear the Mandalorian sigh. 

From the east, red laser blasts blow apart the first TIE fighter, and then the second. The X-wing flies lazily through the debris, looping above the rock where Grogu sits. 

A crackling sound pops into the cockpit of the Mandalorian’s ship, then a dignified, cheerful voice speaks.

“My name is Luke Skywalker. I’m here to help the child.” 

Uncharacteristically surprised, Din had been expecting that X-wing to be carrying some stuffy officer bent on harassing him, not a kriffing Jedi.

He hits the button on the comms.

“I can’t get to the kid. He’s stuck inside that Force… shield.” 

“I see him. Looks like he’s sleeping.” 

Sure enough, as Din crests the hill, the blue light flowing around Grogu is gone. 

“There will be no more Imperial fighters for a while. You’re safe to land.”

You make a skeptical face, wondering how the Jedi could know that. Reaching forward, you tenderly grasp Din right above his elbow. Din’s tension is greater now than while he was shooting down scores of the Empire’s best. 

For the Mandalorian, that had been the easy part.  

***

By the time the Mandalorian settles the Razor Crest down and the two of you race to the top of the rocky ruins, Grogu is awake. The Jedi, Luke Skywalker, is seated and clearly performing some kind of Jedi magic to read Grogu’s thoughts. 

Grogu’s ears perk up and he turns from Luke when he hears the clinking footsteps of the man striding toward him. He raises his childlike arms, and Din scoops him up.

“I’m glad to see you, too, buddy.” 

Grogu babbles in the cradle of Din’s arms. His head swivels to look back at Luke.

“Your young one is strong.” 

Din nods, his two-toned glove on Grogu’s back. You step up behind the tall Mandalorian. Reaching around the broad man, you rub Grogu’s ears. He purrs under your affection. 

Luke speaks again, “I can see he was well cared for. Grogu is very fond of you both.” He frowns. “Attachments are forbidden to Jedi. Emotion clouds our judgment. It’s best that he learn the ways of the Jedi -  and when he is older, he may make his own decision.” 

“Yes. I was tasked with bringing him to his own kind,” the Mandalorian’s modulator hides most of his voice, but the devastation radiates from him. He tilts his helmet down to the child.

Grogu, eyes shining, reaches up to touch Din’s helmet, expressing his feelings for the man who has protected and loved him.

“You have to go with the Jedi, pal,” Din murmurs, hating the words.

Grogu whimpers, his ears drooping, and with only a moment’s hesitation, Din begins to lift his helmet. 

Inhaling sharply, you move further behind the Mandalorian and drop your gaze. This moment is between Din Djarin and his kid.

_________________________________

“Ducked in there,” you tilt your chin at the seedy cantina door. 

Several members of the local crime syndicate stand outside smoking death sticks, the smoke spiraling up into the vibrant night air.

“You good?” Din asks, his hand reaching toward you protectively.

You wipe your lip free of blood, “Yeah, I should’ve seen it coming.”

“When we go in, we cir-”

“I know, Din,” you smile fondly at him. 

In the past year, you’ve completed plenty of bounty jobs with him. It was easy to use the same tactics on different targets, so you’ve become familiar with the Mandalorian’s strategies. And anyway, it made sense. Of course you would flank the quarry.

Din watches, not a little besotted, as you confidently walk into the business full of slimeballs. It always ached to let you go into danger, but that was why he spent hours each week pouring his knowledge and experience into you. You’ve always been capable, strong, and as ruthless as he is. Din follows you inside.

The thumping bass and flashing lights play with your eyesight. Unlike the Mandalorian in his enhanced helmet, your eyes were susceptible to any kind of trick or weakness. You squint slightly against the glaring lights. When you sweep the room, you catch sight of Din circling around the far side of the bar. He inclines his head at you, then disappears. 

One of the red strobe lights twists from the stage and into the crowd, and that’s your excuse for not seeing the quarry as it hurtles into you. They tackle you, taking you to the sticky cantina floor with a wheeze. The blue, humanoid woman lands another blow to your face before you overpower her, ripping her off you. You nimbly get to your feet, drawing your blaster. The woman grins wickedly from her seated position on the black floor, then she feints to the right.

“Stop. Stop moving,” you warn, the barrel of your blaster now pointed at her head. 

The pounding music makes the quarry’s voice near inaudible, but you hear her snarl, “I know about you. You’re a karking slavegirl. Where’s your master?”

Insults had run out their efficacy on you fifteen years ago, and this weak attempt is no different. You look bored. 

“Give me your wrists,” you indicate with your chin. And when the woman’s eyes dart to the exit, you shift on your feet, stating, “I don’t want to blast you.”

Suddenly noticing the scuffle, a stranger looks from your pointed blaster to your face and shouts, “Hey! No officers allowed.”

“Not Republic,” your eyes stay glued to the woman on the floor. “I’m -” 

Your sentence ends when the stranger - a large, Dyplotid with four eyes blinking simultaneously - wraps a massive hand around your blaster arm. You whirl, trying to break his hold, but he’s much too strong. Instead, he curls his arm around your throat and squeezes. Your eyes refocus as you watch the quarry sprint to the door. 

A man, his armor reflecting the rotating colored lights, lunges at the quarry, gripping her arm. Using her own momentum, he flips her onto the floor and snaps binders around her wrists. It’s then that he looks up to see why you had allowed her to get so far. 

Abandoning the quarry, Din strides powerfully forward, his steel gaze locked onto the Dyplotid, when its head jerks.

A hole burns through its arm, and the Dyplotid stumbles back, clutching and screaming at it. You let the blaster fall away from where you'd placed it against his arm. Shaking your head in annoyance, you look up at your partner. Din carefully, wordlessly, raises your chin, looking you over.

“Let’s just get her out of here,” you grouse. 

***

In the cockpit, while Din freezes the quarry, you begin the takeoff cycle. Grumbling under your breath, you mentally poke at yourself over your failure with the quarry. Muffled steps echo as Din climbs the ladder. 

“You did good,” Din quietly praises when he reaches the top.

He swivels the pilot’s chair you sit in around to face him. He knows you’re upset. Standing, imposing as always, he watches you duck your head in shame. 

“I shouldn’t have let him get so close. If I had been faster -” you stumble over your thoughts. “I’m a liability to you. I’m not a good partner if I get caught up like that.”

Din leans, his hand tilting your face upward again. 

“You are not the only one who gets into fights. What matters is that you get out of them. Which you did.” His thumb presses against your lips, and his voice turns suggestive. “Would you like me to make you feel better?”

His advising words will take root and grow, but his offer is one you can’t accept. Because he can see your distress, Din would be gentle and sweet, and you don’t believe you deserve that at the moment. 

“I don’t feel right about you taking care of me,” you admit. “I want you to be mad at me.”

Din’s beskar mask tilts in interest. He nods once. Your eyes drop to the grooved, durasteel floor, knowing he will leave you to your task. 

The Mandalorian pulls off his gloves slowly. He tosses them on the control panel behind you where they land with a dull thud. You look up at him - a question in your eyes. 

“Stand up,” his modulator orders. His chin tilts upward.

“Din -”

He leans forward a fraction, his body eclipsing all else.

“Stand."

A knot forms in your gut, and you obey him. He doesn’t back up, so you’re forced into his personal space. The Mandalorian’s hands slide underneath the bottom hem of your top, palms against your skin. His callouses leave a burning trail.

Din’s hands stop their advance on your ribcage. You know what he wants, so you lift your arms. His skin skates over yours as he rips your top over your head, leaving you exposed in his cockpit. Your eyes toss him a shy look, and Din feels something dark take over. 

He grips your upper arm and pushes you over to the side panel. Din turns you to face the exterior. His hot palm lands right at the top of your spine, and he bends you over the chair. Desire coils and pools where you want him most. Your hands grasp at the bottom edge of the side windscreen.

Thank the Maker Din landed on the outskirts.

Din shoves your pants down your thighs, grunting airily as he does so. One of his rough hands comes around to grope at your breast, lazily rubbing at your peaking nipple. Moderating his strength, his boot kicks your foot to the side, allowing him to fit closer.

You can hear the rustling of his flight suit, and you clench in anticipation. A rush of wetness dampens your thighs when he thrusts his velvet length against your folds. Encouraged by your arousal, he continues.

“You wanted this,” he gruffly warns not a second before he draws back and spears his cock inside you. 

From the outside of the Razor Crest, if someone stumbled past in the vast landscape, they would see your mouth agape, your body jolting, and the Mandalorian fisting your hair. They would see him slip a hand around your throat, thrusting you back onto him. 

But they wouldn't hear the rhythmic slapping, the duet of pleased and desperate sounds from two drunk voices.

Your mind is numb with the plunging feeling of the Mandalorian splitting you in two. Something heavy and metallic falls to the floor, rolling away. Then Din's scruff scrapes against your spine as he hunches over you, wantonly biting and sucking at your shoulder. 

His pace is intense, and if you close your eyes, hyperspace is passing through your eyelids. He grunts as you clench down on him, legs shaking. Your knees knock into the edge of the chair with each thrust. Filthy are the squelching sounds that your joining bodies make. 

"D'you still-" he groans when you arch, allowing him deeper. "You still want punishment?" 

It's not a real question. He was never going to deny you pleasure. This is as close as he can get to hurting you.

Din slips a hand between your legs, his fingers performing your favorite melody. You throw your head back, body locking as your orgasm builds. When the pressure shatters into bliss, your moans, your fluttering around him has Din fighting his own peak.

Arm barring your chest, his other hand cups your throat and his unveiled cheek presses against yours. You slam your eyes shut, wanting to experience every bit of his touch and ignore the temptation to look at him.

"Damn, you’re squeezing me s-" he mutters, but his words end in several rough groans as his cock pulses violently. 

Cheek to cheek, his lips hang open right next to yours. He pants, his cold chestplate stinging your back, as he releases himself. Din relishes the way you whimper in tandem with each of his spurts inside you.

He drops his forehead to your shoulder and brushes his lips along the bruised skin he finds there. The two of you stay motionless for a moment, basking in it. It’s one of the best experiences you’ve yet had with him, and you’re unsurprised he came so quickly considering you did as well.

Din allows his hands to linger - he skims your chest, your sides, then gently cups your ass as he pulls himself from you. The Mandalorian's sweet, unmoderated voice cuts the silent cockpit.

"Turn around.” 

Though he is uncovered, his request tells you that he's not intending on asking you anything, so you face him, eyes shut.

His soft lips pry yours open. He kisses you with sensual tenderness, as though he wasn't just ramming you against a window. His wide tongue slowly drags through your mouth, over and over, upending your sense of direction. Din's hands cradle your jaw, thumbs sliding over your cheeks. 

Tears spring up behind your eyes at his care. You drift toward him, craving his steadiness. When your naked chest touches his beskar, you shiver.

"Sorry," he remembers your state. 

Din lets you go and you wiggle your bottoms back up, head down. The Mandalorian crouches and picks up his helmet, replacing it. 

"You did well today. I am proud of you," Din's modulator lets you know you can open your eyes. “Do not argue with me.” 

He drops into the pilot's seat and finishes getting the Razor Crest ready.

You laugh, biting your lip. “No point,” you tease. “It’s only another thing I wouldn’t win.” 

The Mandalorian’s head swivels to you, and after a pause, he deadpans, “You didn’t learn much just now, did you?” 

You smirk at him. “You’ll have to explain it again.” 

***

The Crest drifts past an exploded star. Long had it burnt out, no cause for current concern. Din Djarin simply wanted you to see it. The gas and debris that hang in spacetime manifest in purples, blues, greens, and yellows. It’s incredible - unlike anything you’ve ever seen. Sitting in your usual chair, your lips are parted slightly in awe as you take it in.

The Mandalorian has seen it before, so he watches you instead. Something heavy presses on his chest, and he can’t quite put name to it. He feels as though he weighs as much as the karking ship he pilots. 

You make a comment to which he doesn’t respond, so you tear your eyes from the view outside to the view inside. He’s facing you, his shoulders hunched. 

“Din, what’s wrong?” You immediately push out of your chair and reach for him. 

Caressing his helmet, you frown, knowing something is brewing underneath. Sometimes, you hate that helmet. Though you know it as Din, and therefore love it for that reason, the human connection that it cuts him off from saddens you.

“Nothing is wrong,” he flatly asserts, though he’s trying to convince himself more than you.

You touch your forehead to his and he inhales sharply. You take his hands - blessedly ungloved - and settle them on your waist. 

“You miss the kid,” you state gently.

Din does not allow the stinging in his eyes to become tears. He grits his teeth, then opens his mouth to allow a pained sigh to escape. Din finally identifies the weight pressing on his chest. It’s a void. You and Grogu make up his heart, and with either of you missing, the emptiness makes itself known.

“Could we not go see him?” You murmur, drawing back to look at the Mandalorian.

You smile at the thought of Grogu’s excited coos, the way his ears would perk up at Din’s voice. 

The Mandalorian sits back in his chair, renewed by hope, “You're right. We should find him. Make sure the kid’s alright.”

_______________________________

Din Djarin found the location of the Jedi's training facility easily. All it took was tracking down an old Republic archive worker, bribing them to provide Grogu's implanted beacon code, and then finding a device capable of tracking such an outdated string of symbols. 

It took the Mandalorian less than two days. 

The new problem was that the Razor Crest suffered a hull puncture during an unforeseen meteor shower. Frustration and impatience line his back and bow his shoulders as he lands the Crest on the nearest populated planet. Repairs would take at least a day, and that was a day that could've been spent getting to the kid.

"This planet is in the same system as Charal. Where you dishonestly obtained a room for us."

You laugh, "I remember that planet for an entirely different reason."

The T-shaped, black slit turns to observe you. 

You oblige him with an explanation, "It was the first time you touched me." 

But Din was already smirking underneath his helmet.

"I remember."

***

Walking alongside and slightly behind the Mandalorian, you hide your grin at the way he parts a crowd. You watch as people eye him as a danger, and others eye him as an object of interest. For all his social isolation, he drew attention like a tractor beam with that swaggering confidence and gleaming beskar. 

And he was all yours. 

You wait a few steps away while Din trades credits for some type of food you’re unfamiliar with. The Twi’lek vendor actually bats her eyes at the Mandalorian. When he drops the credits in her hand, she stumbles over her words when his glove contacts her skin. From a distance, you grimace - whether in embarrassment for her or irritation on your part, you’re uncertain.

Seemingly oblivious to the Twi’lek’s distress, Din wordlessly rejoins you, touching your elbow to indicate his presence. It wasn't that he didn't notice the attention, it was that he didn't care. Though you never doubted the man raised on devotion and respect, it was a balm to your disquiet soul that you could trust him in every way imaginable. 

A few minutes later, he abruptly swivels his head to you, “I have something I need to do. I’ll find you.” 

The fingers on Din’s right hand twitch as though he wants to touch you, but something tells him not to. The Mandalorian could never be certain whose eyes were watching. Instead, he bows his helmet solemnly at you, and disappears down a narrow alley. 

Din had mentioned a task earlier, so his departure was expected; but now you had to face the thronging marketplace by yourself. The last time you were alone amongst a crowd, you were running for your life from a frothing bounty hunter on Niamos. 

While Din had bought food for the two of you, your goal is to get the little womp rat something. So, you straighten your shoulders and stroll down the busy venue. 

Your attention is fully focused on sorting through the unreadable languages, garish banners, and hot smells to find something that Grogu might like when the hair on the back of your neck rises. Swearing you felt a puff of air on your skin, you furtively search, but the milling crowd gives nothing away.

So many eyes and yet none of them seem to be looking at you. Continuing past several chrono traders, you slink down a peaceful side street. It’s shaded from the pinkish sun by balconies and overhangings. 

Forcing yourself to relax, you lean against the smooth, exterior metal wall and close your eyes. You let your mind wander back out into the mass of lifeforms, wondering who had gotten close enough to feel their breath. You try to absorb any shred of detail you can hear or remember.

Your eyes snap open when you realize, with a self-conscious scoff, that you’re imitating the way Grogu reaches out with his mind. But something is wrong. Something is coming. Angling your body to peek around the corner, your eyes frantically search the crowd.

Where is Din?

Before you can finish worrying about the Mandalorian, a hand slaps across your mouth, effectively silencing your startled yelp. Then another hand, cold, immutable metal, manages to snag both of your hands behind you. Thrashing, you jerk your head around, vainly hoping Din decided to play a cruel joke. Instead, a female cyborg grins maliciously down at you. 

You allow her to drag you away from the mass of innocent people, fighting convincingly the entire way. She smells like unwashed armpits and oil. It’s foul and you fight a gag as her arm winches your throat.

Once out of sight of innocent bystanders, you suddenly drop all of your body weight to your knees, and she toddles off-balance. Thrusting your shoulders forward, you throw her over you. She lands with a guh! as the wind is knocked from her. 

Able to assess the threat now, you take stock of her cybernetic left arm, waist, and left leg. Her right arm, right leg, chest, and most of her face are still flesh. The cyborg snarls at you and rolls to her hands and knees, preparing to spring at you, when you draw your blaster and fire from your hip. A move Din made you practice daily.

A pathetic, horrible sound issues from the woman as the blaster bolt burns through her right eye and she falls to the ground, smoking. 

***

As he struts back through the town, the Mandalorian weighs the small package in his hand with contentment. Though you had loved that beskar spear, the Armorer was right: it was far too dangerous a weapon, and it could serve a greater purpose. 

Din is thrilled with his deception. There hadn’t been any damages to the Razor Crest - well, not any that couldn’t wait a little while. Din simply needed a reason to land on this planet and find his Covert without you asking him a thousand questions. 

Now, his task is complete. Grogu will have something to keep him safe and remember Din by, and you’ll have… the Mandalorian’s smirk falters a little when his thoughts consider your reaction to what he had made for you. He rarely second guesses himself, if ever. But this is territory he never considered.

All at once, he notices that people seem nervous for a reason other than him; he can hear the hushed whispers between friends. Din’s keen ears latch on to the word ‘abducted.’ His heart rate kicks up.

He tucks the small package of gifts into the pocket behind his belt, and lengthens his stride. The Mandalorian flicks on his heat sensors, but there’s too many warm-blooded species swirling about, and he growls as he flicks it back off. 

To Din’s left, two booths set up to sell chronos are quickly packing their wares away; they look considerably more afraid than the rest of the crowd.

“What happened here?” Din demands of the closest shopkeeper, a Trandoshan. 

The chrono seller winces as a Mandalorian stalks toward him, and rapidly answers: “A girl was abducted. Right there -” he jerks his hand to the side, pointing at the alleyway next to his booth. 

“What did you see?” Din isn’t threatening the Trandoshan, but his quiet, forceful voice certainly sounds like it.

“I- I don’t want to get too inv-”

Din’s body language shifts ever so slightly. He cocks his head; and that’s all the Trandoshan needs to restart his sentence.

“Human girl. She was being dragged off by a karking cyborg. It was terrifying; I tried to help her but the thing was too big,” the giant lizard’s words flow so fast, they blur as though he took a shot of spotchka before answering.

Din lurches past the vendor before he finishes his second sentence. Though the Mandalorian has no proof you are the girl in question, the knot in his gut and the hollowness in his chest tell him all he needs to know. 

Heat sensors back on his viewscreen, Din follows the yellowing, fading trail. The tunnel-like road is utterly quiet; it’s clear it’s a residential street, but there isn’t a soul to be seen. 

The trail ends in an expansive lot. It’s a confusing tangle of heat signatures in the dust, and Din can’t make out exactly what happened. He switches the sensor off again and crouches to examine the footprints himself.

Someone had been dragged. Din looks up and to his right. A small ship idles on the far edge of the field. Scanning the ship, he identifies two lifeforms - at least one is female. The Mandalorian's footsteps are quick and quiet as he approaches the small-scale freighter. The boarding ramp is down, so he slips on board. 

At the far end of the cargo hold, in a pile of cargo hauling material, lies a female body. Din knows without further examination that it is not yours. Over the past year, Din Djarin had memorized every facet of you; he committed you to memory like each entry was a precious artifact. And this body is decidedly not yours. 

Din switches his heat sensor back on to look for the other lifeform, but a brutal blow to his ribs sends him on his side. Din scrambles to his feet and is shocked to be staring into the face of Con Macta. 

“Come to settle a score?” 

The Mandalorian goes to draw his blaster, but, from behind him, the arms of the female cyborg cinch around his neck, tightening rapidly. Too quickly for Din to react, Con Macta stabs through Din's flight suit and into his bicep with a syringe. Unconsciousness steals the Mandalorian.

***

The cockpit of the Razor Crest is cold, silent. 

Cara Dune’s blue face greets you with a grimace. 

“It’s good to see you, but not like this. I sent his chain code to the Razor Crest. And, hey,” she frowns. “I can be there in less than a cycle.” 

“In that time, I’ll have found him,” you insist. “Thank you for searching the Republic database." 

"Anything for you two,” she smiles grimly and the visage fades. 

You spin away from the fading hologram and begin powering up the Razor Crest's navicomputer. The hologram of the star system flickers to life in front of you. Two planets fill your vision, and on the planet adjacent to your current position, a small yellow dot blips. 

Slightly taken aback that Din is no longer on the same planet, you recover quickly. It doesn't take much for you to add up all the evidence. A cyborg attacked you and now Din is on Charal.

You bring up the entry log from that cyborg job a year ago. The data screen reads in Aurebesh: 

Con Macta - Stormtrooper, 607th Battalion - Missing/Killed in Action 1 ABY. 

You frown. Either the database had missed an important detail, or the female cyborg was on a revenge mission. Chewing on your lower lip, you’re finally thankful Din taught you how to fly.

***

Brought to wakefulness by searing voltage in his veins, Din's jaw muscles are forced taut by the current, preventing his pained groan from escaping. His entire body tenses painfully.

Laughing cruelly, Con Macta cuts off the switch on the dirty, steel wall. 

"Good afternoon, bounty hunter. Really didn’t think you’d be so easy to capture. I didn't even have to go looking for you. You thought your apprentice was on my ship, didn't you? Very touching, your affection for her." 

Din doesn’t reply, too busy catching his breath.

“I sent my own lady friend to snatch her up, but your rather wily apprentice almost killed her. Say hello, Venita.”

Venita saunters toward the containment field Din is suspended in and taunts, “Hello, Mandalorian. You really were a disappointment compared to your friend.” 

“You know, we never did find your real name. We found your apprentice’s, but yours seems to be kept in a secure section of Imperial files. Very interesting. And in that case, don’t worry about dying here. You’ll be going to meet them next. They pay top dollar for their bounties.”

The Mandalorian does not speak. Hanging as he was inside this energy field, there was little he could do. Whatever he’d been injected with still held him in a dazed consciousness. 

“You were all bravado when last I saw you, Mandalorian. What’s changed?” Macta goads. He flips the electricity on for a second, then cuts it again. “You don’t like this? This is what you forced me back to. My maker created me here, in this filthy lab, against my will. Poor stormtroopers. We’re all pulse-cannon fodder or failed experiments.”

Din once again does not reply. Nothing he could say would change the outcome, and he damn sure wasn’t going to give Con Macta any sense of satisfaction.

The cyborg huffs. “You’re far more boring than the last time we met. I guess I’ll have to find your apprentice. That will make you lively.” 

The Mandalorian forces every ounce of will he has into not reacting to that statement, but his sudden rigidity gives him away.

“I can find her, Con. Let me have another go,” Venita begs in a hiss.

The cyborg takes his demented friend by the arm, leading her out of the room. 

Din can just make out his answer: “We’ll both go. If she’d blasted your real eye, you’d be dead.” 

The Mandalorian growls with frustration. It’s essentially useless to struggle. Containment fields are made of pure energy. The control panel with the large, white power switch sits unhelpfully across the mid-size, gray room. 

The cyborg had yet to remove Din’s helmet, thank the Mythosaur; but Din is unable to reach the vision-changing settings, so when a small, dark shadow creeps in from the steel doorway, the Mandalorian squints to hurry its focus. The light from the containment field blinds him to much of what occurs outside its glow.

The shadow moves to the control panel, and Din loosens his muscles in preparation. Tensing would only make the spasming more painful. To his great shock, the blue energy field suspending him disappears and he falls to the ground with a clang. 

Groaning, still groggy and in pain, he unsteadily rises to his feet. They must’ve accidentally released him and now he had to fight. But as he continues to squint, a soft, anguished voice comes from the direction of the control panel.

“Din! Dammit, what did they do to you?” 

You hurry to him, sliding your shoulder underneath his to stand him up fully. 

“I’m alright. Injected me with something,” he shakes his head, trying to clear the cobwebs from his mind. The two of you move toward the exit. “How did you find me?” 

“I ran to the Razor Crest right after I was attacked. I had a bad feeling, so I holocalled Cara to give me your chain code. Can’t have been much more than half an hour behind you.” 

Underneath his helmet, Din’s eyebrows shoot upward. “You were smarter than I was,” he chuckles. 

“I was terrified,” you whisper.

His arm clutches you to his side and he rubs his thumb across your hip soothingly. 

Din releases you to retrieve his blaster from its place on a table. They hadn’t removed any of his other weapons; he supposes they didn’t deem it necessary. He feels a little insulted. 

Suddenly remembering, Din jerks his hand to the place he’d held yours and Grogu’s gifts. Empty. He growls under his breath. 

You peek around the open doorway out into the hall. Your options are left or right. Following the same way you came in, you go right. 

“Those two droids,” he says it like the slur it is to him, “went this way. Stay alert.”

Two blasters are pointed down the dark hallway as you and Din skirt the circular building. It was shaped like a moisture silo - round and high. You’d set the Razor Crest down a click to the west. All you needed to do was find the busted ventilation grate you’d entered through and sprint to the ship. 

In the poor light, you can’t see the object flying at you. A weight slams into your stomach, and you crumple to the floor. Unable to catch your breath, you try to duck out of the way when the gleam of a metal arm comes at your face. It stops mid-air with a dull sound, and you focus your eyes to see that the cyborg’s fist has been caught by Din’s hand. 

The mechanical woman rips her arm from his grip right as he tries to grab a better hold. She disappears into the darkness. You fire your blaster in her direction and the instantaneous red beams of light creepily illuminate the hallway. It’s too brief to confirm, but at the apex of the curve, two figures seem to be lurking. 

The Mandalorian is a protector; dividing his attention between you and the threat is as easy as breathing. He flips on his dark-vision, and with his other hand, he gently helps you stand. Slowly, you get to your feet, clutching your ribs.

“You okay?” His voice is clipped, worried and angry.

“Yes,” you groan. 

His world lights up a sickly green. The two antagonists are at the apex of the curve, believing themselves to be hidden and waiting in ambush. 

“For an ex-stormtrooper, he is extraordinarily unskilled in tactical matters,” Din whispers drily. 

The pain in your torso spasms when you snort a laugh under your breath. “Can we make it out alive before you start imparting your wisdom, O God of War?” 

The Mandalorian’s hand splays across your lower back in familiar affection. He keeps his eyes trained on the two cyborgs as they crouch in wait. 

“They’re setting a trap for us.”

“What do we do?”

“Walk into it."

“Are you still feeling that drug in your system?”

“Yes. Start firing when I do.”

Advancing on the hidden threat, you keep your blaster at shoulder’s height, waiting for Din’s cue. Blood red light casts the hallway into faint relief as the Mandalorian’s blaster repeatedly fires. Your blaster joins his, and the two of you continue approaching the now-dodging cyborgs. 

The female launches at you again, apparently very upset about her missing cybernetic eye. This time, with Din’s dark-vision, he sees it coming. The Mandalorian bumps into your blaster, preventing you from shooting him in the back, as he lunges in front of you. He catches the woman mid-air and brutally throws her to the ground. 

You poke out from behind him and fire another blast at the oncoming Con Macta. His yell changes in pitch when your shot burns through his left thigh. Limping, his charge is slowed considerably. 

In the split second you take to shoot at Con, the Mandalorian is kicked in the back by Venita. As she gets to her feet, Din twists and fires at her. His blast does not go through either eye, but through the center of her forehead. 

Con Macta’s roar echoes throughout the building. The mechanical mixes with whatever’s left of his humanity to form an utterly hair-raising lament. 

“Mandalorian, you’ll watch yours die for that.” 

The cyborg steps underneath an exterior grate, and in the faint, purplish light, you can see that he had undergone further modification after the Mandalorian had taken out his bounty. Before, his entire head was flesh, now only his eyes and mouth remain uncovered. His cheeks and forehead are plated in a tan, utilitarian metal. His thin upper lip snarls. 

“I also have this.” The cyborg pulls a fist-sized red and white bundle from a pouch on his hip. 

Din tenses beside you. 

“Let’s see what’s inside. I hadn’t gotten around to examining my spoils yet, but I’m curious what a minimalist Mandalorian could be carrying so dearly.” 

As the cyborg looks down to untie the material, the Mandalorian raises his weapon and pulls the trigger. Con Macta stumbles as the bolt hits him in the arm. The package drops to the steel floor with a muffled clink. 

He roars again, charging at the two of you. He dodges the Mandalorian’s blasts until finally he leaps, knocking Din to the ground. Unwilling to accidentally shoot Din, you try to get an angle on the twisting cyborg. Deciding that was no good, you finally just kick Macta’s partially-human head. 

The tortured, destroyed ex-stormtrooper cries out and wobbles to the side, giving the Mandalorian an opportunity. Still pinned, Din thwacks his right leg on the ground, firing a knee rocket directly into the cybernetic back of Con Macta.

Following the ear-splitting explosion, the cyborg delivers a groaning death rattle, and slowly collapses to the ground with a resounding crash. 

The Mandalorian hefts to his feet, and quickly walks to the small bundle lying on the dirty floor. He brushes it off absentmindedly, and turns to you. 

"You still okay?" 

Nodding, you move toward him. He holds out his hand, palm down, and jerks his head toward the exit.

__________________________________

Grogu sits on a yellow stone. His eyes are closed and his breathing is audibly shallow. His mind is focused on the incoming ship. The Jedi across from him can feel it, too. 

Luke Skywalker frowns with acceptance. The child had made its choice. 

***

“You’re very quiet,” you observe, hoping Din will tell you his mindset.

He doesn’t. The Mandalorian continues performing the landing cycle with rote movement, jostling slightly as the landing gear settles onto the gravel below.

“I can’t wait to see him,” you smile, peering out the glass, hoping for a glimpse of the kid. “His little face -” 

“I know.” 

You press your lips together in a knowledgeable smile. Din is anxious. 

***

The boarding ramp lowers, and you bounce once or twice on the balls of your feet. Beside you, Din is composed except for the fingers on his right hand. As the two of you strut down the ramp, a figure in form-fitting black materializes from the treeline. 

“Hello. I was expecting you sooner, actually.” Luke smiles. “You really do care for the child to have denied yourself for so long.” 

The tall grass sways for a second before Grogu flips out and onto the gravel path. 

“Patu!” The child begins waddling toward the Mandalorian.

Din strides forward and crouches to one knee, taking the kid into his hands. 

“Hey, buddy. I missed you, too.” 

Tears threaten to fall from your eyes at the blatant love in Din’s voice. Grogu reaches for the Mandalorian’s helmet, but Din does not remove it this time. He half-turns, and Grogu’s attention shifts. His childish hand raises at you, cooing. 

Nearly jogging to them, you allow three stubby fingers to grasp your thumb. Pressing a kiss to his wrinkly head, you murmur an affectionate greeting. Grogu begins to purr.

“Is he happy here? Is his training going well?” Din asks the Jedi. 

“Happy enough. But he is distracted. I believe Grogu has made his decision.” 

Your brow furrows, “What decision?” 

“Grogu has learned all he will from me. I know his feelings, sense his thoughts. They remain with his father. A life dedicated to the Jedi Order is not his path.” 

“You’re saying that you won’t train him anymore?” You clarify, shocked.

“Grogu has seen both of his choices and made his decision. That decision is to return to you.” 

Though you can’t see his face, your eyes turn up to the Mandalorian anyway. Your imagination serves you well enough. His eyes are surely glassy, and a soft, disbelieving smile is certainly spreading across his face. 

Luke bows slightly, and turns away, walking down the path with his hands folded behind his back. In the distance, a stone hut is being built by spidery droids. You watch him go for a moment in curiosity before returning your attention to the two in front of you. 

Din’s helmet tips down to look at the child. “You’re coming with us?” The hope in his voice confirms your picture of his expression. 

Still aggressively purring, Grogu burrows down into the crook of Din’s arm. 

The T-shaped slit tilts up to you, and you wish you had the ability to freeze the image. The Mandalorian contentedly holding his green child, looking at you with what you're sure is pure happiness.

"Let's go, then," you grin. 

_________________________

Deciding that a reunion could be better savored while resting on a peaceful planet, the Mandalorian lands the Razor Crest. Gentle hills of sand roll in every direction, and, once outside the ship, the sound of ebbing water can be heard.

"This is Illen. The entire surface is made of small islands. The waterline is on the other side of that dune," Din points his chin upward. 

"Is it late in the day's cycle?" You wonder, referring to the soft, golden light that illuminates the planet.

"The sun does not set here." 

You raise your eyebrows in appreciation, "It's beautiful." 

Din kneels, laughing under his breath at Grogu's immediate fascination with the sand. 

"Kid, I have something for you." 

Grogu's ears flop slightly when he looks all the way up at Din. He tilts his head in curiosity. 

The Mandalorian unwraps the little bundle he'd carried with him and pulls out a child-sized chainmail shift. 

"This is yours by right, Grogu. You are a Mandalorian foundling, and part of this clan." 

The child seems to understand the gift he's being given. His eyes look upon his father with adoration, and his hand touches the beskar chainmail with respect. 

***

Several hours later, Grogu begins to slow his excitement. His tiny mouth opens wide showing a range of even tinier teeth as he yawns. 

Grogu plops down in the sand, grabbing fistfuls and letting it trickle through his fingers. Miniature crustaceans with towering, swirly shells scuttle by, fascinating the kid as he slowly starts to drift to sleep. 

"He'll be busy for a while," the Mandalorian nods his head toward the ridgeline. 

Traipsing through the soft, sifting sand makes your journey to the top of the dune longer than usual, but when you join Din at the top, your breath catches. 

"Woah," you blink, ensuring your eyes aren't lying to you. 

Gentle waves lap at the silky white sand. The ocean is a vibrant blue, contrasting beautifully with the golden tint of the sky. Purple and yellow clouds dot the horizon. The burning sun casts yours and Din's shadows far behind you. 

Din gallantly holds your hand as the two of you trudge down the dune, stopping several paces from the water. 

"I have something for you, too."

Tearing yourself away from the natural world, you turn to look at your own. 

"What?" 

Din's thumb and forefinger dig into his pocket, and he fishes out a metal pin shaped like a Mudhorn. 

"You are also part of this clan, if you so wish. This does not bind you in any way, however," he assures. 

You smile warmly and raise your palm for him to drop the pin onto. It's even lighter than it looks. 

"Being bound to this clan is all I want," you shake your head and pin the object to your shirt. Your cheek twitches up into a lopsided smile at him. 

The Mandalorian simply stares at you for a breath, enjoying the moment.

Reluctantly, he starts to speak. “While I am reminded of it: I did have something I wanted to teach you,” he unhooks his real binders from behind him. "You are going to learn how to get out of these.” 

Your shoulders fall and your face is unmistakably wary. “Seriously? Can’t we have a single day without some type of exercise?”

Real binders represent a litany of bad memories. If you can avoid this, you will.

"No. And don't be afraid. You trust me." 

He says it as though it's a fact. And you realize that it is. The bond of trust between the two of you hasn't been up for debate in a very long time. He has your best interest at heart. Always.

The Mandalorian clasps the thick metal around his own wrists, and to your immense shock, a shadow in your mind whispers something excitingly foul. 

“When you’re…” Din’s words trail off when he notices something. The blank face of the beskar helmet tilts. “Your heart is racing.”

"It's not," you lie.

"I’ll get you out if you’re unable to break them. You need to learn how to do this." 

Din worries that your past might be causing you to fear. It was, but a more insidious idea has taken root.

"No, I know. I believe you."

Din's shoulders tense, his bound hands folded in front of him. "Then why is your heat signature rising?" 

The breeze from the sea is cool, and the sun is at a perfect place in the sky to allow for a comfortable amount of warmth. Trying to understand, the Mandalorian watches as your cheeks flush, and it finally strikes him that you're embarrassed.

"This -" he pauses, truth dawning on him. "You like this, don't you?" He raises his hands.

You bite the inside of your cheek and look at the shifting ground beneath your feet. 

"I'm sorry. I don't know why." 

Din considers that for a moment. It wasn't hard to understand. A lifetime of servitude and bondage, you might enjoy being on the other side of it. 

The Mandalorian shifts his body, his knee cocking. “If you win today, I'll see what I can do." 

Your eyes widen, nerves sparking already at his voice. Then you frown. 

"But I never win," you retort. 

Din shrugs his shoulders. 

You take a deep breath and roll your eyes, "Alright, well. Show me how." 

The Mandalorian twists one of his hands, working against one of the hinges. One edge of the hinge springs up. Then, Din raises his hands above his head and jerks them down and apart with all his strength, popping the hinge. One cuff remains, but his hands are no longer constrained together.

You raise your eyebrows, impressed. 

"These are a low-grade set. You won't be able to break free of the high-end binders; unless you pick their lock," he explains. "But I want you to know how to do this." 

Din resets the hinge, and holds out his hand for you to take them. As your fingers close around the binders, however, the Mandalorian sweeps your leg out from underneath you. 

Instinct takes over, and, though you're laughing at the change in plan, you duck into a recovering move to the side, giving yourself space from him. 

He nods at you, and the fight is on. Binders still in your hand, you feint to his left. Din actually reacts, so you take advantage and charge his right. 

You land a blow to his side, then grab his arm and try to set him off-balance. From the modulator, you hear him breathily laugh at your pathetic effort. He crouches and whirls you off him, sending you down onto the sand. 

Scrambling onto your feet, you're laughing too hard to focus. Even without a weapon, his strength was such a formidable opponent that you'd never win. 

"You can do better.”

"I can't," you snort. "Din, you're as broad as an X-wing." 

He gestures like So what?

"Try again," he demands, folding his hands cockily. 

Huffing, you narrow your eyes, looking for some kind of misstep. But he's just standing there - unimpressed as a karking Republic officer. Eventually, you decide on trickery; that seemed to work before. 

Feinting again, Din expects you to go to the opposite side like you did last time, so he twists a little to that direction. But then you continue through on your "feinted" movement, launching at him. You come at him from below this time, grabbing and pushing at his waist, and as he bends, your leg swipes out his knee. 

He grunts, rotating and falling onto his back, and you go down with him, arms still around his waist. 

Din takes the opportunity, while your ankle is awkwardly underneath his knee, to wrestle on top of you. He's chuckling under his breath, clearly enjoying this. 

As Din supports himself above you, you knock your elbow into the crook of his arm, causing it to give out and his body to drop to one side. He grips your waist as you roll and force him onto his back once more. A click resounds between you.

"Stop doing that," he growls at your cheap shots on his joints.

As you straddle him, he hears a second click. 

The Mandalorian looks down now at his hands where they lie against your stomach. Binders lock his wrists in place. The black slit on his helmet considers you with a sigh. 

"Well done,” his modulator conveys his flat, raspy tone. “I concede." 

Your eyebrows draw together, mouth agape, and you place your hands on his breastplate for stability. 

"You can't concede a fight you lost." 

"I just showed you I can break out of these, did I not?" 

"That doesn't negate my win." 

Din huffs dramatically. The motion tenses his abs underneath you. Once again, you’re tempted by the way he looks right now, bound and pinned underneath you. Heat begins to pool where you sit astride him. 

Suddenly, the Mandalorian lurches upward, looping his bound arms over your head and around your waist. He shifts on the sand until he's sitting up with you in his lap, your legs still sprawled around his waist.

"Can you take this off for me?" His gravelly voice asks. "My hands seem to be tied up."

There comes a lurch in your stomach that has very little to do with your position around him.

"The helmet?" You whisper.

"Yes, the helmet." 

"Din, are you sure? Shouldn’t you -”

“I think it is fitting. You won and I’ve already made my decision. You make yours.” 

Reverently, you place your hands on either side of his beskar face. Your fingers curl around the concave shapes that resemble cheek bones. A third Death Star could splash down into the ocean and you'd only know when the tsunami engulfed you. The weight of the moment is almost too much to bear. 

The sharp edge of the helmet crests the top of his head and short, wavy, brown locks fall away from the interior. You set the helmet down beside him, and, with the gravitational pull he has on you, you can’t stop yourself from touching his face.

His face.

Huge, sensitive brown eyes look up at you, reading your reaction. His full lips pout in a way that forces you to stutter over them several times in your exploration. You’re surprised at how easy he is to read, and for a moment you believe it’s because of how well you know him, and that is much of it. But then you understand. A life behind a mask meant that he never learned to hide his expressions. 

You press a gentle kiss to his angular nose; to the patch of missing hair on his jaw, oddly shaped like a heart; and finally to those unfair lips. Your hands cradle his jaw as you press your kisses, and he sighs underneath your touch. 

The Mandalorian is beautiful underneath beskar and bone. 

This is the first time Din has seen you without his helmet, and the weight of his gaze as it travels across your face, down your throat, and back up to your lips sets your already-taut nerves ablaze. The knot in your stomach has yet to loosen; instead, Din only twists it tighter. 

Taking a liberty, you peck him on the lips shyly, drawing back almost immediately. The corner of his mouth turns upward ever so slightly and his hooded eyes pin you with a look full of deep admiration.

When you pull back, your eyes open to the true intimacy of the moment. The Mandalorian could not show you any more blatantly that he cares, that he’s yours. Bound and unhelmed under you, Din is still in control. At any moment he could break his bonds, but he chooses not to. You take a shaky breath, then surge into him again. This time, however, your lips slot between his with heated fervor. 

He groans into your mouth, crushing you to him. Din reclines a few degrees onto the sand dune behind, allowing you a better position on him. Your sounds become more desperate, and Din breaks the kiss.

“Take this off,” he indicates his chestplate. 

His eyes are hooded and completely on board with this new dynamic, so you comply. You bite your lip, trying not to ogle, as you carefully divest the Mandalorian of his armor. The illusion of control was yours, but he always held the power. Him choosing not to use it makes your blood boil. 

When his armor is lovingly placed to the side, abandoned in the daylight, you run your hands up his chest over his flight suit. Without waiting for instruction, you unfasten it. Quietly he watches you, his arms still around your hips, and his breathing grows shallow. 

You pull open his flight suit and duck to press open mouth kisses along his chest. Sparse, dark hairs curl in the center, tickling your cheeks and lips as you move.

Din groans through his nose, his eyes closing above you. At the apex of your thighs, his length twitches and thickens. You kiss along his collarbone, encouraged by his faint sounds, then suck a biting kiss on his tense neck. 

A wrecked groan rips from his mouth, and his hands press into your back, egging you on. Your hips buck of their own free will as his arousal becomes hot and hard between you. His eyes roll closed when you drag along him just right, and the sight of his pleased face soaks your underwear. 

“You going to run the whole show?” He murmurs. “Or would you like me to -”

Before he’s finished speaking, you retrieve the thin key for his binders, unlocking them. Pulling off his gloves and tossing the binders into the sand, he immediately skates his hands underneath your shirt, tugging it off you. When Din tosses it away, his eyes shamelessly follow his hands as they explore.

He suddenly sits forward, his arms cradling your back, and he sweeps you underneath him. His knee spreads your legs, so it’s really his own fault when your drenched, needy core rides his thigh. Looking directly into the Mandalorian’s soft eyes, you whimper; his eyes darken further, and he roughly shuffles your pants down. 

Your hands fumble with the rest of his flight suit, but he shrugs out of the sleeves, tying them around his waist. He opens the codpiece area and your eyes widen. It’s not the first time you’ve had sex with him in the daylight, but those times had always been from behind. Din’s hands are already large, and yet his cock makes them look smaller. The memory of it inside you is enough to make you arch into him.

Your arms reach for his neck, and he bows over you, tenderly kissing between your breasts. He makes his way to your throat before he returns the favor, sucking a bruise into the crook of your neck. Din’s heavy erection settles against your thigh, and it throbs when you moan.

“Stop teasing,” you beg breathlessly. 

“I’m not teasing. I am enjoying this,” Din says honestly. 

“I really need you,” you take his face in your hands, pulling him into a desperate kiss. 

The Mandalorian takes the hint. He groans; his hands grip your waist, pinning you into the sand. One hand abandons its post to drag his length through your folds, coating himself in your arousal. Brown eyes bore into yours as he lines up and, with a rough sigh, nestles the head of his cock inside you. The Mandalorian breaks eye contact to look down and grab the underside of your knee. He throws your leg up over his waist, maintaining his hold, and inch-by-inch, buries himself in your tight heat. 

Watching him enter you has you teetering on the edge of an early orgasm. His eyebrows draw together and his full lips part slightly. His chin tips upward with pride when you cry yes, and his heavily-lidded eyes blaze with lust. 

Adjusting to his size is simple when he’s driven you to the point of an orgasm just from insertion. You wait for him to move, but he doesn’t. Instead, he kisses you without agenda. You relax into him, letting him lead. He said he was enjoying this, and the more you touch him, the more you agree. 

Curling your hands in his dark brown waves, you drift with the roll of his tongue and his lips. His slow sensuality seems to turn him on even more. You whine each time the Mandalorian throbs inside your body, and each time it sets your heart racing. 

Eventually, when your body shakes with anticipation and sheer want, he has mercy on you. His hand leaves your knee, sliding down your thigh and between your two bodies. His thumb rubs smooth circles over your sensitive bud and you tighten around him immediately. 

Whining, muscles stiffening, you lean away from his lips just to breathe, when his low, crisp voice asks earnestly, “Will you come on me like this?” 

It’s the missing piece. It whips through you like a wildfire, and you bear down on his cock. He groans in his throat, enraptured, as you shake beneath him. Din takes advantage of the moment, surging forward to claim your lips. 

Din drags his length out along your walls, loving your overstimulated expressions. Then, he reseats himself in a single motion, sending your body forward in the sand. You cry out, begging him for more.

The Mandalorian thrusts into you, replacing his hand around your knee and using it as leverage to please you deeper. His muscular arm settles near your face for balance. Burying you in the sand, his warm body pressing into you from above and inside, the feeling of bliss sinks into your very marrow. 

Grunting, his lips lose their steady rhythm on your mouth, insteading hanging above you. Sweat shines on his forehead, his brown hair curls in the same place, and he looks at you with such admiration that you can’t stop yourself from cupping his face between your hands, kissing and worshiping every part of him you can reach. 

Your second orgasm sneaks up on you. Din loops an arm around your back, pulling your chest flush with his while he works himself into you, grunting as his aching member begins to empty itself. The coase hairs between you tangle, acting as friction. The thrusting of his body nudges your clit, and the powerful shuddering of his cock in your overstimulated channel forces you right over the cliff. 

Shaking in his arms, he rides it out with you, breathing rapidly into one another. Sand sticks to the both of you where you’ve perspired. Din leans his forehead against yours, whispering his affection. He kisses your nose, then carefully removes himself from your body. 

You lie there for a moment, basking in it all. 

“I’m too dirty to put my clothes back on,” you laugh. 

“I am, too.” Din agrees. 

He stands, having tucked himself back in his black flight suit. His upper torso is still uncovered, though, and you stare. 

The Mandalorian holds out his hand and you take it without hesitation. He helps you stand, then begins to undress himself further, not wanting his knee rockets and boots to get waterlogged.

 “You’re… going to bathe with me?” Your lips curve into a coy smile.

“Is that not obvious?” He responds drily, chucking a boot onto the beach. 

“I’m not going to keep my hands to myself,” you warn in a whisper.

“Neither will I,” the Mandalorian promises. 

_________________________________

Taglist:

@morks-watermelon @leithatnight @sexygaypalpatine @leeeesahhh @taro-666 @bitter-sweet-slut @cockscombkingdom

[mailjeevasfan]

it's summer soon/it's summer, soo.. how about going to a pool party with wammy boys + light & matsuda? (gender neutral s/o)

i love love love this rq tysm. i had too much fun with this i fully giggled to myself (i added misa too bc i felt that she would thrive in this environment)

-death note x gn! reader

-light, l lawliet, misa amane, mello, matt, near, matsuda

༺♡༻

death note characters at a pool party ❦

light

-he most likely would not be interested or wouldn’t have time post death note so i’m imagining this to be like his pre death note personality, but this can be whichever timeframe you want it to be

-he would be involving himself in whatever’s going on. marco polo? he’s ready. making snacks and drinks? he’s over there helping.

-he’d be super fun he’s probably used to a lot of social outings like this seeing as he’s super popular

-he would be talking to everyone and making sure everybody is having fun and not left out. but he would definitely make sure not to leave you out as well he’d be really cute and eager to show u off

༺♡༻

l lawliet

-i weirdly think that we would love it. more than you’d expect

-even if he stood in the pool and didn’t move he’d probably drown due to his posture. sorru idk why i said this the image of it is making me physically laugh

-anyways he’d be more likely to just hang around eating all the food before anyone even touches it. everyone kind of expected that though, they came prepared with extra everything

-he would want to analyse people’s behaviour a little too, since he’s another person who isn’t used to this kind of setting. it’d be more imperceptible though, i don’t think he’d just sit around watching and doing nothing. you’d be very proud that he did something that he usually wouldn’t even think about doing

༺♡༻

misa amane

-as i said, THRIVING.

-has picked out the cutest bathing suit and has the cutest little look going on and she especially wants u to notice. centre of attention for good reason

-she would get in the water to play a game or something but would mainly be sunbathing and hanging out with u.

-she’d take lots of cute selfies and would be the life of the party, her and matsuda would be the most outgoing people there

༺♡༻

mello

-bro is salty and no one knows why (IN A FUNNY WAY THO)

-basically just splashing everyone (near) and laughing maniacally. he’s had too many drinks and is ready to cause MAYHEM. whenever he beats near at a game, or loses for that matter, just run because all hell WILL break loose

-he would push u into the pool and then cannonball in after you (and do the cute underwater kiss thing)

-he does genuinely have a lot of fun tho. he would be very sociable and chatty.

༺♡༻

matt

-he’s not very sociable and you probably dragged him kicking and screaming to this party in the first place

-i hate to say it but he’s probably just smoking in the corner playing games on his phone LMAO

-he seems to think his social skills are terrible but once people start to talk to him they realise how witty and extroverted he can be and suddenly he’s the cool guy. he only talks to you and mello at first

-he’d probably stay super close to u tho and he would have enjoy it in the end. he would also push u into the pool and do the lil underwater kiss thing

༺♡༻

near

-he is definitely not used to such an outgoing and social environment. in fact he has not chilled out since 500BC

-he’s going to spent a bit of time analysing people’s behaviour and watching how this works so he can try to get involved a little more. he can be more sociable when he really tries

-he’d learn the rules of the games and stuff pretty quickly so he’d be able to get involved easily. most of it ends up being an involuntary competition with mello, but for once mello actually ends up victorious

-like l, you’re very proud of him for doing something out of his comfort zone

༺♡༻

matsuda

-he 100% organised the party. everyone needs a break tbh let’s be real

-he’d be the most sociable. he’s setting up all the games and making sure there’s tons of fun stuff going on at all times

-why do i feel like he’d also be the designated bartender. i feel that matsuda can whip up a mean cocktail fr

-wants to make it the best for you. he feels inadequate and useless sometimes so he wants to prove he can do something really well. you, ofc, love him regardless though

༺♡༻

[thrawns-babygirl]

Hey, can i put in request for our snarky hotshot?

I saw this prompt somewhere and really liked it

“want a massage? i’ve been told that i’m..very good with my hands” and if you’re bored it can lead to some dirty dirty? If that’s the case, body worship maybe? TY soo very much <3

Sorry this took so long lmao. Moving house has been KILLING me. I loved writing this and I hope I did the prompt justice :)

And yes I will continue writing Medic!Reader. Doc is just the perfect gender neutral nickname I am a sucker for when the fic writes itself. No I will not stop and no one can make me.

Crosshair x GN!Reader

(This is my first time attempting to write an actual GN penetration fic so lemme know if it leans to heavily in one way or another. It can be read as either PiA or PiV imo)

Rating: E (18+) Warnings: Unprotected sex, creampie Word Count: 1700+

Masterlist

Crosshair was loitering again. It wasn’t an uncommon thing; he wasn’t exactly subtle about being soft on you. It was a source of constant teasing from his brothers, much to his chagrin. He was very firm about it “No I do not have a ‘crush’ on the doctor Wrecker, grow up” or “they’re just so fun to tease” which would result in knowing looks shared between his brothers as he stormed off to loiter in your office as you finished paperwork.

Today was no different.

You were hunched over your desk, trying to finish off the last of the medical reports so that you could get to sleep at a reasonable hour for a change as you were once again interrupted by the drawl of a certain handsome sniper.

“Your posture is terrible, that’s gotta be bad on your back” you look over to where Crosshair is leaning against the wall of your office, arms crossed over his chest still clad in his armor moving the ever-present toothpick in his mouth from one side to the other. Fixing him with a scowl you adjust your posture slightly before replying “Well no one is asking you to hang around and berate me about it, don’t you have someone else you would rather annoy?” he hits you with his trademark smirk “No”.

You simply sigh before getting back to your work. You try to ignore him, honestly you do, but it’s difficult. His presence is a source of constant conflict for you, he is devilishly handsome, and he knows it. He enjoys flustering you with flirtatious comments and small touches when the situation allows, he enjoys the way you blush and stumble over your words at his teasing, he enjoys it far too much.

You grunt softly as rub your back, maybe he did have a good point. Your back was sore, your eyes were tired, and you wanted nothing more than to go back to your quarters, take a hot shower and fall into your semi-comfortable bed.

“Told you so” you can almost hear the smirk in his voice as he moves off the wall towards you. You sigh and shut off your terminal before glancing over at Crosshair who is now standing behind you, looming over you with his imposing height. “I’m heading back to my quarters Cross, go find someone else to piss off” you tried to snap at him, but your voice just sounded exhausted instead as you rub your shoulders. You stand up and leave towards the direction of your room, attempting to ignore the sniper who was following you.

“You know…” he starts as you look over your shoulder at him, raising an eyebrow “I’ve been told that I’m very good with my hands, if you want a massage” you think about the offer, wondering if this is a joke or if one of you has actually taken the final step in this ‘will they wont they’ situation you’ve found yourselves in. Deciding to throw caution to the wind you simply nod and lead the way to your quarters.

Once inside you feel a little unsure of how to proceed, you never really thought either of you would take this final step towards… whatever it is that’s happening right now, and you never thought this far ahead. You decide to lay down on your bed, face in your pillows as you hear some shuffling from Crosshair behind you.

You feel Crosshair’s long toned legs against your thighs, something that is decidedly not the hard jab of plastoid and you lift your head up to look behind you only to be greeted with the sight of Crosshair in only the bottom half of his blacks straddling your thighs busying himself with a small packet of lubricant that look eerily familiar. “Did… did you swipe that from my office?” you move your head back down into the pillows to stop Crosshair from seeing your blush as he tuts “where else would I have gotten it?” you decide not to question it as you feel his hands under the hem of your shirt. “You gotta take this off doc, I need room to work” you silently follow his command as you shift and allow him to help you remove your shirt. Ignoring the burning heat in your face as you lay your head against your arms on your pillow.

You shudder slightly as you hear him open the packet and rub his hands together, successfully stifling an embarrassingly desperate moan as his hands make contact with your back. He wasn’t kidding, he is really good with his hands. You feel all your tension leave you as he runs his hands along your back, working through the knots and kinks in your muscles as you feel yourself melting into the mattress.

He works his hands lower until his fingers are digging into your hips as his thumbs work on a particularly tense area of your lower back. You fail to stifle your moan this time, you also fail to notice the sharp inhale and movement of Crosshairs hips to the sound. You’re lost in the bliss of Crosshair’s hands as he finally breaks the silence that has settled over the two of you “You know doc… I think I could get better access if you moved your pants down a little” you both know this is probably untrue, but at this point you really don’t care. The two of you have been moving around this for far too long and if this is what it takes for you to finally step over the line, you’re more than ready. You nod as you feel Crosshair’s hands snake their way under your pants and underwear, pulling them down slowly as he reveals more of your skin to him.

“You’re… stunning doc” his voice is breathy with a barely contained desire as he runs his hands down over your bare skin, running his fingers over the flesh of your ass kneading the soft skin before he leans down and starts trailing a line of kisses down your back. “You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted this… wanted you” he continues pulling your pants down further. “I need you to tell me you want this too” his voice has dropped into a breathy whisper as he speaks to you.

You raise your head slightly to look behind you, his face and chest are dusted with a light blush, his eyes are blown wide with lust and there is a very prominent bulge in his blacks. You nod, wetting your lips as you find the words “yes… yes I want this too”. You watch as Crosshair lets out a shuddered exhale and moves to find the leftover lube from the packet before placing your head back into your pillow.

“Just lie back and enjoy Doc…” his voice is husky as he returns his hands to your body, running them along your thighs up towards the swell of your ass, placing kisses along your back, his stubble sending tingles through your body as he brings his now slick fingers to your entrance. You tense slightly as he slowly pushes a single finger inside you, pumping it in and out for a bit before adding a second scissoring them slightly. “Fuuuck… you’re so tight doc… can’t wait to feel you around my cock” you shudder at his voice, the feeling of his long fingers filling you up, soft moans falling from your lips as he moves the digits in and out of your tight entrance.

You whimper slightly at the feeling of his fingers leaving you, only to take a sharp inhale as you feel him move behind you, removing the bottom half of his blacks. You steal another quick glance behind you and gasp at the sight of him.

He’s huge, long and thick with precum beading at the tip. You watch as he pours the remainder of the lube onto his length, giving himself a few strokes before leaning over you, one hand beside your head as he uses the other to line himself up with your prepped hole. You moan as you feel the blunt head of his cock press against you before slowly pressing in. The sounds he makes as he slowly feeds his length inside you are utterly sinful, a long groan of your name leaves his lips as he holds himself above you with both arms, panting softly.

“Fuck… Doc you’re so fucking tight. You take my cock so well” his voice is shaky, as if he’s trying to hold himself back from slamming his hips into yours with reckless abandon. You turn your head again and nod, hoping that he gets the hint that he can start moving.

He does, his first thrusts are slow, tentative, gauging your reactions before he begins picking up the pace at your soft moans of his name. It’s not long before he’s moving his hips into yours, ripping pornographic moans from your chest that you would probably be embarrassed about if you weren’t so thoroughly engulphed in pleasure.

“Fuck just like that, you have no idea how long I’ve been wanting this Doc… You’re fucking perfect” he lets out another long groan as he fucks you with reckless abandon, the head of his cock hitting that perfect spot inside you repeatedly, bringing you closer and closer towards your release. His rhythm begins to faulter slightly as his breathing gets heavier “where...?” his voice is strained as he holds himself back from the edge “inside” you let out one long moan of his name as your climax washes over you, your legs shaking from pleasure as Crosshair slams his hips inside of you a few more times before letting out a sinful moan as his cock throbs and he finishes inside you, filling you with his cum.

He leans down against your back as you both pant, attempting to catch your breath, both of your bodies covered in a thin layer of sweat as you bask in your afterglows. He pulls his softening length out of you before disappearing to the refresher to grab you a damp towel, throwing it at you as he places a toothpick in his mouth.

“Not a word of this to my brothers. If I have to hear ‘I told you so’ from Hunter I’ll deck him”  

@where-is-my-mind-tho @antishadow2021 @healingskywalker @crosshairlovebot@ilovestarwarsmen725 @vincentferard

[oryoucouldhavemine]

TOH Headcanon Dump Post

(Mostly the De-lights because i write them the most lmao)

Hunter:

Autistic

surprisingly tall but like in a lanky "towers over everyone" way except he has terrible posture

gets overwhelmed with sound, light, people, basically everything if it was unexpected he's probably overwhelmed

Darius is his dad but Raine and Eberwolf are like, honorary parents at this time. Eda and Camila are more like the really close aunts he always visits to me, idk i dont see Eda being a parental figure that works for him (Luz however that is her daughter fr fr)

has lots of scars from Belos trying to "teach him a lesson" about bravery and such and Hunter doesnt think anything about it until hes like changing and Darius does a drama queen dramamgic gasp, hand over chest while leaning against a wall for support

HATES tight clothing, its too restricting he enjoys oversized and loose clothes. in the human world, luz introduces him to skirts and hunter is like "WHY WOULD ANYONE NOT WEAR A SKIRT THEYRE AMAZING"

he also likes purses he thinks theyve gotta be magical or something

touch-starved but has loving friends and family who are here to help him through it

discovers fire trucks and engines in the human world and despises the boiling isles for NOT HAVING THEN WHY DONT THEY HAVE THEM THEYRE SO COOL????

Luz

ADHD + genderqueer (p sure both are canon)

SHE WOULD LOVE NEO/XENO PRONOUNS theyd have sm fun with chosing ones

Loves to dress masc and fem and soemtimes combine them in asburd ways but she always surprisingly makes the outfit work

wants a guinea pig farm. no, NEEDS a guinea pig farm. She wants to name them all after her favourite book characters and sew them tiny outfits to match she would KILL a man for a guinea pig farm

considera hunter her older brother and looks up to him a lot

LOVES her gf would also kill a man for her she is the light of her life. luz tries to do grand romantic cheesy gestures like writing amity poems or getting her a massive bouquet of flowers but something ALWAYS goes wrong (amity loves all the gestures regardless)

luz's favourite colour is purple (because of amity ofc)

she HAS to sleep either sprawled out taking up every inch of the bed possible or curled up and swadled like a little baby there is no inbetween

very tactile if luz isnt hugging someone there might me something wrong

im cutting this short i could make fifty posts about luz hcs alone

Amity

autistic + sapphic

npw that shes free from her mom, she LOVES to be imperfect, she gets happy whenever she fails a test or a spell because shes ALOWED to be imperfect now

she and hunter did NOT get along at first like even post-s3 they didnt mesh well but they both care for Luz they had to get over it (and now theyre practically ever apart)

admired lillith even more now, she thinks lillith is like, THE COOLEST person in the world but feels akward telling her

has poor circulation so she gets cold really easily

whenever shes stressed or worried, shell pull at two strands of her hair next to her face and like twirl or pull on them to ground herself

Gus

unlabelled he/they

brags about having gone to the human realm to anyone who will listen

considers himself an expert on human things despite barely actually knowing anything human

loves playing pranks but is literally terrible at them but everyone humors him and acts surprised (he knows theyre acting)

once took a human SAT just to see if he could and got a higher score than Camila got on hers and she calls him Boy Genius for it

like in Flyer Derby, hes really good at a lot of sports but he plays untraditionally. hes always underestimated by the other team but then ends up scoring all the winning points

hes a silly little guy love him

Willow

her comfort person is hunter, she feels strong all the time but it weighs on her and hunter makes her feel strong even at her weakest moments

she likes to knot and crochet! she picked it up in the human world and she finds it so calming and fun except it took her a bit before she actually got the hang of it (she made like five sweaters that had three arms but in her defense!!! she knows a lot of creatures and beings with three arms!!!)

works out! not necessarily to get strong but because working out makes her feel accomplished

amity has been trying out new hairstyles and Willow loves being Amity's pracitce head. You can barely ever find willow without some sort of fancy braid or bun hairstyle nowadays

she wants a horse. shes not actually sure what a horse IS but she wants one

super sweet to every new person she meets until they mess with her friends then she is the scariest person alive

Darius

OCD + gay

he discovers what drag queens are and becomes obsessed

"a place for everything and everything in its place" hehas harsh rules about what does where and gets easily upset if his system is ruined

he DESPISES "if you hate messes so much whyd you pick the messiest magic to learn" comments because how DARE you insinuate that abomination matter (PART OF WHAT HE IS!) is ANYTHING like mud its actually very disrespectful of you to think so he says

he and alador had a falling out in their later years of school and to cover up the hurt, darius will argue and tease him but deep down he really just misses him

at the start of him trying to care for hunter, he refuses to admit that he is like a father to him. anytime eda or raine call him a dad, he'll go out of his way to try and prove hes NOT (cut to five months layer when hes legally adopted hunter and they meecilessly tesse him)

acts like eberwolf is the biggest inconvience hes ever met but would kill anyone who tries to harm them (and hed rather die than tell them that)

does things in threes, he doesnt even notice he does it at this point but he'll like rub his hands together three times, tie his hair up with three twists, eat three waffles for breakfast, and when smth isnt in threes it feels verry OFF to him

Alador

queer + autistic

very fixated on his work, he needs to be constantly creating and if he isnt creating then hes falling behind and if hes falling behind its the end of the world

doesnt know how to properly show affection, his parents had been pretty strict and neglectful so he doesnt know how to properly show his kids that he loves and cares for them

NOT a tactile person at all. don't touch him and DEFINTELY dont touch him without permission. he has very few people who are exceptions (his kids and Darius) and even then there are limits

hates the feeling of showering so hes a bigger bath person despite darius telling him thats not an effective way to get clean

he has like eighty pairs of the exact same outfit because its the only texture he can stand

darius and his falling out was due to his parents telling him darius was dragging him down and he itched him in an attempt to make his parents proud. he deeply regrets his choice everyday (they fix their shit eventually)

he DOES have a favourite kid but he refuses to tell them such

Edric

bisexual + autistic + transmasc

this man gets NO BITCHES none zero trying to find a partner is borderline IMPOSSIBLE for some unknown reason

he runs on a schedule and if something breaks the schedule no matter how small it can ruin his whole day

vrry open with his emotions. he will tell you right away if youre bothering him or did something to upset him

WHY THE HELL IS SCHOOL SO HARD he despises english because why are all answers right and wrong he loves math because there is only one right answer but its still a tricky subject for him

dinosaurs

his biggest fear is dying alone he hates being alone its the worst thing ever

WHY IS MAGIC TRICKY AS WELL WHY IS EVERYTHING SO HARD? hes getting better though and hes really good at beastkeeping

clingy emotionally and physically he needs the constant reassurance that people are there and care for him and hes close to his sister and tends to stick to her like glue

Emira

bisexual + AuDHD + transfem

when she and edric were younger and realised they were both trans they just switched names and clothes and it took ten years for their parents to notice the switch

RSD [Rejection Senstive Dysphoria] she hates that she has it because someone can say smth as simple as "sorry i cant make it my grandma died" and she'll start thinking of a million different reasons why that person actually just hates her (shes communicated this with her siblings though and they do their best to commincate clearly back with her that no they dont hate her at all)

SO MANY BITCHES people fall at her feet they swoon when she walks by but NONE of them are her type its terrible!!!!

loves her little sister but doesnt know how to show her love through any other way outside merciless teasing

she loves her brother, she does, she just wants to be her own person outside him, to be able to turn around and not see him two feet behind her

loves english and the fact you can make any wrong answer right with enough arguing and debate. math is her least favourite subject WHY THE HELL IS IT SO HARD

has years of detention stacked up but has not attended a single day (she got suspended for a week because of it and was just like YAYYY FREE VACATION!)

will sometimes just sit in her dads workshop while he works and watch in silence because she likes hanging out with people but knows alador cant focus with sound. its both of their favourite times

Raine

lesbian + nonbinary

post-s3 runs a music therapy group where they teach people how to play instruments or how listening to music can greatly help their mental health

has been in love with eda since their breakup, they never stopped loving her and would watch from the sidelines with terror as wanted signs got hung up around the BI for years

doesnt mind dressing fem or masc but prefers the more androgynous outfits

has watched hunter from the sidelines and tried to protect them from a distance but could only do so much. post-HM raine goes out of their way to make sure hunter is safe

sees luz as a sort of step daughter and then promptly panics over that realisation for a whole day

gets flustered really easily like why is everything so embarrassing what the hell

very agile, can do backflips and stuff

Eberwolf

Unlabelled + he/they

COULD JOT STAND DARIUS AT FIRST darius and eber did NOT get along in their early years of being covenheads but then eventually learned they were both rebels and got closer now theyre kind of like begruding brothers

could kill a man in their sleep and has

loves being dirty, mud is so much fun why doesnt everyone roll around in the mud more?

has also watched hunter from afar for years, hunter used to be sent out on overnight missions into the woods and stuff and eber would follow along and protect hunter so he could focus on his mission and not random forest creatures trying to kill him

Most of these are based on my dadrius series and stuff so if you enjoyed these hcs uou should go read my fics (KaztielCS118 on ao3!!! used to be Im_Basically_Shakespeare but i changed it recently)

[jenyifer]

Turn your brain off for the second installment of the “THAT GUY IS IN LOVE WITH A FUCKING FISH” book . So once again I’d definitely suggest this for anyone who likes to laugh with light historical political posturing.

9/10 🌶️+ spice does happen and is referenced to so?

The sell: do you like cute brainless boys who don’t realize how loved and spoiled they are? Do you like a prince who is 100% focused on his pet fish and the boy he thinks is a spirit trying to drain him? Do you want to squish their faces together? Yes? This is the funny comedy love story for you. When you hear random descriptions of what happens in this series from others the most important thing to remember is Li Yu(the fish) is an innocent little baby who wants Prince Jing to succeed. Prince Jing is aware in the second book that Li Yu is his fish however he is under the false impression that Li Yu is a fish spirit who needs energy to survive 😈that kind of energy. The two have misunderstandings while trying to survive. It’s funny it’s sweet. I really love these two books so much. Just not too serious easy to read. In the second book Li Yu gets to spend more time with Prince Jing and he has to accept his feelings for the Prince.

Spoiler cause 🥲

So I know the fish does actually get pregnant but I didn’t realize he needed to fake it first lmao how terrible that an off handed joke to his Prince results in babies. Everyone this is a good reason to never lie again.

[eneablack]

I’ll tell you about Tom Riddle in my dr.

I didn’t really feel the need to talk about him, despite having scripted that we have a thing going on, because I got closer to Remus so I just didn’t want to look like a slut going from a man to another lmao, but anyway.

So, I scripted we would have a potential thing but I don’t think it was going where I wanted to. He just despised me lol, he really showed that he couldn’t stand me for some reason. I heard around school that he’s like that with everyone but he seemed to really dislike me a lot.

See I have some beef with Snape in my dr, and that is similar to the dynamics I have with Tom, except with Snivellus we have competition going on too, while with Tom there’s just nonsense disliking.

He’s a slytherin prefect and he would do ANYTHING to make me go into trouble. He would always catch me doing something I shouldn’t do and threaten me that if I wouldn’t fix my behaviour he would snitch on me and tell the professors. And, in fact, he did it from time to time, putting me into “trouble” (kind of because professors aren’t as strict so it’s just some general scolding and, if you pass the limit, they would test you in class but nothing tragic).

He’s a little bully too lol. He makes fun of me for looking and behaving a certain way, everything about me is a point for him to start attacking. This is just embarrassing of him tbh, his aggression just looks childish, even if he seems like a very mature person. I think he is indeed mature, but there’s this side of him that I can’t comprehend.

He’s top student and I noticed that he’s a great observer in both a good and bad way, and I even would literally catch him stare in the great hall (he’s basically never in the common room except at night time he would go there to read). He seems like an obsessed guy idek. HE EVEN JINXED ME ONE TIME, he made me have some terrible days because of that and he would just apparently feel good about it.

I hate to admit though that he’s a very attractive man. His eyes are so dark they seem black but I never got so close to notice more details. I noticed some flaws in his face only when we accidentally would bump into each other, which happens a lot for some reason (boy so creepy might plan this all). Despite the bullying he’s very well mannered, with high chin and good posture, almost nerdy at times ngl. Plus his skin is so clear??? and for what?

Never caught him do something “human” lmao, he just seems so perfect in a weird way. I don’t want to get close to him but, honestly, it would be interesting to get to know him more. But yea I don’t care, man is an asshole.

[cherrygorilla]

Zack's Basic Info

As seems to be a recent theme with me, I really struggled coming up with faceclaims for Zack. I think Chosen Jacobs (first pic) is the one that feels the most right in my head, but I could see the others (Miles Brown, Noah Gray-Cabey and Jaden Smith) all working well in their own ways too. No one else seemed to be able to get that mischievous grin of his right lol.

Name: Zackary Ghalen Davis - his mom named him Ghalen, meaning calm in Ghanaian, because he was such an easy, quiet baby. But then he learned how to speak and she's never had a moment of peace since.

Nicknames: He pretty much solely goes by Zack. He'll occasionally get a (very cringeworthy) 'Zacky boy' from his dad, and, in the very few interactions he's had with Ethan, he's had 'Zack-attack'. But 99.9% of the time it's just Zack. 

Age: 14

Date of Birth: 30th of November

Zodiac: Sagittarius

Birthstone: Topaz

Nationality: American, Ghanaian and Greek

Sexuality: Straight

Birthplace: St Anthony's Hospital, St Petersburg, Florida

Current Residence: Pelican Drive South, St Petersburg, Florida

Occupation: Middle school student and a newspaper delivery boy

Talents/Skills: Karate, basketball, having insanely good aim (not used for many things thus far in life other than crushing at paper football games in class), never failing to make his friends (especially Bentley) laugh, packing away ungodly amounts of food (his portions are HUGE if he has any control over it), and knowing many, many random facts, mostly about dinosaurs

Birth Order: Middle of 3

Siblings: Jordin Nicole Davis (17) and Angelo Cameron Davis (9)

Parents: Jamal Dimitri Davis and Effia Morowa Davis 

Signature:

Height: 5' 10'' when he's fully grown, but 5' 4'' for now.

Race: African American

Eye Colour: Dark brown

Hair Colour: Dark brown

Glasses or Contact Lenses: Neither

Distinguishing Features: He's almost always got some sort of pen ink on his hands where he's scribbled something down he needed to remember, a weird little squishy lump of skin from where his stitches didn't heal properly after he fell off a skate ramp and took a gnarly chunk out of his knee, and a slightly chipped front tooth from that very same incident.

Mannerisms: Compulsively needs to fill silences with senseless ramblings, unbelievably loud snoring, cracks his knuckles at every available opportunity, and almost always stands with his hands in his pockets.

Health: He’s lactose-intolerant but he does not give a fuckkkkkk lmao - if anything, it just encourages him to eat more dairy. But besides that, nothing really, he's pretty healthy. His mom wouldn't hesitate to (lovingly) diagnose him as a lazy-ass though - and she'd probably pull him up on his terrible posture whilst she’s at it. 

Hobbies: Skateboarding, karate, picking arguments with Kona, binge watching horror movies, eating through entire family size bags of chips in one sitting, collecting random stickers (which he covers like 90% of his belongings with), and wasting all his allowance at the arcade.

Greatest Flaw (in their opinion): How argumentative he is. He has very strong opinions and is super strong-willed, which can be a good thing, but can also make things really difficult when he runs into someone who disagrees with him. He can take it really personally and get really fired up, even if it's not that big of a deal, just because it's hard to process other people's views. Sometimes he doesn't even care what it is he's arguing about; sometimes he just likes playing devil's advocate because he likes to debate with people. His mom always pulls him up on it though, because sometimes his enthusiasm for challenging others can come across as rude, which is never usually his intention. 

Best Quality (in their opinion): His passion. Even though it can land him in trouble sometimes, and brings out his biggest flaw, he is proud of how much he dedicates himself to the things he believes in. He never half-asses things he cares about, he'll put his all into it no matter what. And that extends to his relationships too - he'll stick by his friends through anything, and will defend them until he's blue in the face if he has to. He can be perceived as lazy because of how laidback he seems, and can be lazy when he wants to, but if he wants to do something, whether that's for himself, or for someone he cares about, he won't be able to focus on anything else until it's done.

Biggest Fear: Dying. One of his cousins died in their teens and the shockwave of grief it sent through his whole family really freaked him out. He wasn't necessarily super close with the guy, but he'd spent a fair amount of time with him at family gatherings growing up, so the abruptness of his death really shook him up and changed his whole perspective on life. He very much adopted that 'needs to live life to the fullest' mindset, which is probably why he can come across as a little overbearing and intense sometimes. And he can act rather impulsively, but he'd rather that be the case than living with regrets if that looming cloud of grief were to come and swallow him whole again. 

Hogwarts House: Gryffindor

Favourite Ice Cream Flavour: Rocky Road

Favourite Colour: Red

Favourite Number: 3 - one of the many reasons as to why the triceratops is his favourite dinosaur

Favourite Movies: Nightmare on Elm Street, The Karate Kid, or The War of The Worlds (yes, he and August geek out over it together, and yes, it's adorable)

Favourite Songs: You Should Be Dancing by the Bee Gees, School's Out by Alice Cooper, It's My Life by Bon Jovi, and One Love by Bob Marley

A place they want to visit: Egypt, he's got a real fascination with the Great Pyramids so he'd love to be able to see them in real life.

[way2gosuperrstarr]

I'm glad my ask made ur day! I’ve literally talked to friends and even coworkers about the AU lmao. It’s such a good idea and a so many hilarious (and angsty) scenarios could happen. I keep wondering most about Moon and how he handles his new role. I imagine its quite difficult for the DCA after having spent most of their functioning lives as stage performers. The first time Moon successfully and confidently completes a naptime must be so comforting for him.

hello again!! gosh thank you once more, again its just so crazy to think this thing like . Exists outside of just my little Bubble of Thought and Space, wow 😭

regretfully i havent drawn or shared much of moon in this au yet (i will remedy this in the future! sun just seems to come by default </3) but he is handling it .... about as well as sun is (very clumsily!). funny enough, considering he's literally from the theatre, moon has a sort of "stage fright" in his new environment. he's very awkward, kind of offputting, and stumbles over a good chunk of the more "interactive" parts of his new job, like talking to the children or to mc/yn. he's not really used to talking to others except for sun, and he doesnt exactly have the same instant charm and charisma factor that sun has and flaunts. he wasnt like this in the theatre; this is new to him. feeling awkward and shy is a sort of new feeling to him; at least feeling this much of it is.

he still has a lot of his "theatre villain" antics (both of them still have a lot of their 'theatre days' in them). sun and moon's childcare protocol was sloppily slapped over their preexisting programming, so it's still there. just sorta .... mixed into the untested childcare programs. he feels a little worry about scaring the children with his posture and mannerisms.

yes, i do imagine his first successful naptime on his own would be quite uplifting :} yn is only supposed to be an assist in the daycare; the one legally required human to be around the children, and there to make sure sun and moon's programming is running smoothly and fill in spots anywhere they're lacking. they aren't supposed to be running anything. that's the dca's job. and moon is..... sort of hiding from that responsibility at first, i suppose? and he does feel a little terrible about it. even when he's down and helping, yn's still doing a lot of the heavy lifting during naps at first. his first truly successful and on-his-own run would surely feel quite rewarding and nice. :}

moon hides away for the first naptime or two. in fact, yn doesnt even know he exists at first— sun never really gets the chance to tell them. their first meeting is quite the shock, to say the least. or, a shock for yn, a little bit mortifying for moon.

[14dayswithyou]

(This is so random 💀) How would [REDACTED] react to an Angel who's bones crack like a glow stick when they move, as well as having maybe even a worse posture than them?? Me personally I sit in a shrimp like position for hours a day with my laptop perched on my lap/knees so my posture is terrible lmao

✦゜ANSWERED: Call me Snap Crackle Pop with how often my bones crunch whenever I move 🥴✌️

I feel like Ren would be able to sympathise with you, especially considering how his posture isn't the best either. They're always hunched over their computer screen (bordering on sitting like L), so their back would be in a great need of cracking.

Speaking of, Ren would be more than happy to hold your torso if it meant helping you crack your back and easing your joints. If you wanted to take him to yoga classes he'd be willing to go — but the moment the instructor comes within 5 feet of you, he'll be getting clingy and defensive.

[catboyklug]

sam & max hcs

title

this is specifically for sam & also max bc im most confident w my interpretations of them but once i play & finish tdp i'll make a post for every single other character .

quick disclaimer that this is for my sorta-AU thing where i make sense of the games and cartoon and comics by saying that each was an autobiographical (or just biographical) piece of media that they signed their rights away to. the comics were more or less exactly what happened, the cartoon was scripted half the time (with the bad day on the moon episode actively having been staged) and the games are more or less 1:1 to what happened except for the occassional references to them being. games.

also this isnt a totally exhaustive list

sammy

canon to get it outta the way: he's black, bisexual, autistic and might be trans & objectum (i hc him to definitely be the last two lmao) . i hc he has Narcissistic Traits tee em and also might have OCD

he started developing arthritis in his 20's, which was made only worse by his horrible posture due to his career path of Massive Fucking Nerd. though he fixed his back posture-wise by the time he formed the freelance police, he still is in a lot of pain near constantly.

even when he makes jokes, he wants to be taken seriously at all times. he wants you to laugh at his cleverness, not at the fact that you find him inherently funny. he tends to take this a bit far sometimes, which is part of one of the many reasons as to why he treated max so terribly in the early telltale games

since he was a pup he's tried to hide the fact he's bisexual, even if he's completely normal abt max being out as gay and doesn't see an issue with it in any sense of the term

he really wanted to be an engineer for years, but the intense sexism of the field, a desire to stick around with max, and the fact that other jobs would pay him better lead him to abandon the thought

though he wouldn't mind having children, he doesn't actively want them as much as max does. this doesn't mean he dislikes children at all, though - he actually likes them more than max does, at least conceptually

not too long after the cartoon's release, he lost contact with most of his family, excluding ruth. this was fully intentional on his part: max's refusal to talk to his family except at gatherings he stole food and drugs from inspired him to take more control of his life and contact with people he's related to

he sort of wants to grow his hair out again, but isn't sure what style to get... (i like drawing him w afros though)

completely opposite to max's feelings, sam feels a strictly familial or platonic attraction to lumpy. and platonic being based offa that plato fun fact is very very definitely relevant here i think (im sorry)

if he went with any other job, it'd have to be letterist, full stop. he has several styles of handwriting and they're all gorgeous

he's a super sweet, incredibly silly drunk, and lets himself relax and show more of his dog mannerisms when drunk enough (thank you celebrity poker 2 i love you)

maxamillion

canonically a narcissistic psychopath who might have schizophrenia. its ok i can reclaim him<333 (no i cant but my partner can) he also has a horrible family life but his family stuck together out of mutual hatred and a desire to reap society's rewards for the nuclear standard

this horrible shithead has prolly claimed to have every physical disability at some point but he's only been diagnosed w/ hypermobile joint disorder / ehler-dahlos

in the more modern time of 2024, he usually sticks to only mocking people for things that are a. traits he shares with them or b. actually disturbing, inhumane or generally Yucky

he's wanted kids for years, which is why he's constantly not-so-subtly mentioning it.

he's a deeply unprofessional drag queen AND drag king and loves playing around with both sides of the coin. he also does drag creature stuff but that's just how he normally looks so!

thanks to the autism and schizophrenia he's very touch averse. the only people he really wants touching him are sam (and sometimes, maybe, rarely, flint paper)

to say that he doesn't have any familial affection for lumpy is understating it. he uses lumpy as his personal (and fully consenting) stimtoy whenever he feels like it, regardless of where or who might see 'em.

he sometimes pretends he's still president to make people do stuff for him. this only works on sam though

though he's physically capable of handwriting so gorgeous it rivals sam, he saves that for the disgustingly cheesy, 'anonymous' love letters he sends him every year or seven

he's a mainer. a mainiac if ya will. grew up closer to the south and he's got some relatives from mass so he's got that masshole/bostoner accent. he's usually good at hiding his accent, but it's obvious when you ask him to say shit like "clam chowder" and "lobster" and "fish"

though he hates most country music, he still loves johnny cash

HES A SYSTEM BTW!!!!

botha them

they invented paralell play. sam w his computers and his papers and max with his drawing and stabbing the desk until it looks like a modern art piece

they're both extremely jealous of other people, but somehow have both missed that. sam's worried he's too jealous and overprotective, while max thinks he could stand to be a little more obsessive

one of their favorite things to do together is go to the comic book store and laugh at how horrible their childhood favorite comics have gotten (or always were)

every wedding shown is canon in some way, but around the telltale games sam started thinking they were just 'ironic' and 'a joke' and etc. despite the EXTREMELY high budget each had. he knows better now

max's whole "not making fun of anyone unless they're enough like him (or suck)" actually extends to sam as well. he's more than fine with making fun of someone bc they're fat or whatever despite the fact he clearly isn't. this is MOSTLY because he keeps forgetting he and sam don't share every single experience.

though sam is against drinking as a whole, the two sometimes go out to horribly shitty bars to get the worst in junk food & beer. every time they do, max happily proclaims that it was the best date EVER.

max almost likes sam's singing, sometimes, but this is usually only because he just really likes sam's voice

neither of them know how to use modern technology. when one finds out a single way a single program or feature works, they excitedly show the other like they just found the missing link between humans and neanderthals or whatever

sam helps with max's injections since max really seriously can't handle needles. it's the worst for the both of them, but the treats and snacks and ten-hour-long movie binges after help with the fear

generally speaking, max can get up and out of bed any time from around 6 to 13. sam gets up at 6:30 or 7:45 exactly every day, which means he usually makes breakfast if he feels up to cooking.

other than the aforementioned horrible bars, they have a lot of 'weird' date locations, like the dog park, the local sewer system, hell, etc.

yeay