#< that was my first ship too like. Ever. i was a Baby Child to the internet man yogs was my First Fandom experience

[enderspawn]

this scene rewired something in me first time I saw it fr

#yogscast #blackrock chronicles #og post #mcyt #zoethian #< that was my first ship too like. Ever. i was a Baby Child to the internet man yogs was my First Fandom experience #zoeya #rythian

[creedslove]

The Millers 💖

No outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: an insight of Joel's married life with you and fatherhood of a little boy

Inspired by this post after I fell in love with the idea of Joel being a dad to a baby boy 💙

Warnings: fluff and Joel Miller being the best husband and father in the world

A/N: idk besties, I love Joel and I want him to be happy 😭🥺

1.6k words

When Joel had Sarah, everything was harder; he was too young to take that much of a responsibility by himself and yet he did it. Giving up his dream and short term plans, he saw himself seeking a steady job to provide for himself and his baby daughter, and for that he worked hard. Joel Miller had to work his ass off in order to make sure his family would be well taken care of. However, he loved that tiny little baby girl with all his heart, and it was that love that gave him the strength and the perseverance to fight things off and make sure his daughter had everything he could give her. Luckily to him, he did a pretty good job at raising her, stated fact as she blossomed into a beautiful, lovely and kind-hearted young woman, who gave him nothing but happiness and pride when she managed to get into a top-notch university, after all, she was the smartest kid he'd ever met.

He didn't know exactly what to do after he dropped her off in college, returning to the home that had been filled with her presence, her laughter, her joy and her things, was now a home Joel would have to live in alone and occasionally sharing with his laid-back brother. He was still fairly young, he had a successful business and he thought he would spend his next decades leading a quiet, comfortable life, with a lot of work, some fun, some night stands and that was it.

Meeting you wasn't planned, but it ended up being one of the best, sweetest surprises life had given him, and still, he had never thought it would end up in marriage. He figured you two would be together until you got tired of him and found someone better, he wouldn't blame you, he always thought you deserved more, even if it broke his heart. Turns out you didn't want anyone better, younger or wealthier, you wanted him, exactly like he wanted you, so despite Joel being a stubborn man, you showed him your love and you ended up married to the love of your life. Not bad at all.

However, he had never thought of having a second child. Not that he was against it, but he just figured it wouldn't happen at all, he had gone through all of it with Sarah, so he didn't see himself restarting it from the very beginning… that is until you came with a positive pregnancy test and Joel realized he was going to be a father. You were going to be a mother and you two would become parents. It took him some seconds to let the news sink in, he was shocked, he was not going to lie… he knew you two should've discussed the possibility of having kids and how that would affect your marriage and daily life, but since you were already pregnant, he saw that ship had already sailed.

He was terrified, but also couldn't hide the fact he was so happy to be doing that with you, before he knew it would be different than the first time, where he had to handle a newborn on his own and became a single parent, instead you would do it as a couple, together, building up a family, you were about to become The Millers and he fucking loved that.

Over the course of his life, Joel had to learn to be a girl dad, task that wasn't easy at all, he had no idea one day he would have to learn about Disney princesses, and Barbies, and My Little Pony shit and all the sparkly glittery Sarah was so crazy about when she was a kid. And for a rough guy like himself, he had done a decent job. Which was why his whole perspective had changed the moment he learned you and him were having a little boy.

Joel felt like his heart had stopped for a moment, it was the second time you nearly gave him a heart attack during your marriage. It was so new to him, to know that in a matter of months he was having a little boy. He thought of all the things he would like to do some day, such as teach him how to play the guitar, take him to sports matches, play soccer after Sunday lunches, take him to work… there was just an infinity of things he could try. He was excited.

When you and Joel decided to turn the guest room into nursery, was when he began wondering if his son would be the dinosaur kind of kid, or if he would be into space stuff, animals, or whatever, and just to be safe, Joel bought some of each of the items; that way his little boy could choose whatever he wanted and Joel would be a proud dad not matter what.

Three years after you broke the news to him, Joel prepared himself to leave home and come back home every night to his beautiful wife and his sweet little toddler. It terrified him how time flew by and in the blink of an eye, his beautiful Samuel Miller went from a tiny little baby, to a sweet chatty toddler, and in a matter of time he would become a teen and then an adult. It felt like an exaggeration, but that was what happened to Sarah. He just didn't want to miss out on his son's life, he didn't want to waste precious family moments by working too much. Money was a need, but so was his family, and that was why Joel hated the fact he had to work until that late, he knew you would be gladly waiting for him, but Sammy would be just asleep by the time he finally made it back home. He sighed, as he really enjoyed spending time playing trucks, cars, or blocks with his little man.

He got off his truck and walked to the door, opening it to find a nearly quiet home, the sound of TV was there, though it was low enough for him to be aware you were still awake, but he was sure his boy was already in bed. That was why it made Joel so surprise to moment he saw a tiny little thing waddling towards him, his messy little brown curls showed he had already got cuddles from his mommy, which caused him to he sleepy, judging by the way he rubbed his tired little brown eyes - exactly like Joel's.

"Daddy?" He whispered and smiled tiredly the moment he spotted Joel, rushing to him and hugging him tight, giggling adorably the moment his daddy lifted him up and tiny arms wrapped around Joel's neck. "Miss you daddy"

"Miss you too, Sammy… were you nice to your mommy? Did you take good care of her?" He saw his son nodding obediently and you resting against the doorframe, smiling at them. Your heart was a puddle of love each time you saw how good Joel was with your little boy. You walked to them, caressing Sammy's head gently and pecked Joel's lips

"There's dinner for you" you winked at your husband and got his plate out of the oven, as it was still warm and placed it on the table. You walked to him and tried taking Sammy, but he shook his head "no mommy, stay with daddy please" he gave you the puppy eyes and then turned to Joel "can we play trucks after dinner, daddy?" He asked with a yawn and rested his little body against his dad's stomach, fighting sleep as hard as he could.

While Joel ate, Sammy just stayed quiet, his small hands gripping his daddy's wrist and holding his watch. He shook his head when Joel offered him some food, all he wanted was to play trucks with his daddy.

Joel was still hungry and he was eager to finish that amazing plate you'd made him, but he couldn't simply continue eating while his boy wanted to spend precious time with him. He wrapped his arm gently around Sammy's tummy and got up, taking his son with him

"Daddy is done eating, let's play now, okay? But let's play in your room because our trucks are so noisy and we can't bother mommy" he tickled his son, as he used his trick to convince Sammy to play a little in bed before tucking him in. Sammy on the other hand, could barely contain his excitement, he rubbed his tired eyes once more, but this time the giggles came easy as he was taken to his bed by his father. He sat down comfortably and asked Joel to pick his yellow and blue truck: it was his favorite, given by his big sister Sarah on his last birthday. The man smiled at the thought of it, how his kids were adorable, even if the age gap between them was expressive, Sarah was every bit of sweet to her baby brother, and Sammy simply loved her. He handed his son the truck and sat by the edge of the bed. As they engaged in the activity, Sammy told his daddy silly nothings, giggled and smiled, until he was overpowered by sleep. He lay down in bed, and Joel placed the truck on the floor, taking the fluffy dinosaur blanket and covered Sammy. His big hand caressed his son's beautiful face. He might look like Joel, but he was every bit of sweet and lovely as his mommy, you, the woman Joel loved the most and he was so thankful for having given him the best present a man could have: a family.

"Night night daddy"

"Night Sammy, daddy loves you"

"I love you too, daddy"

____

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal one shot #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #tlou #tlou joel #tlou hbo #tlou fanfiction

[softlyspector]

Soo another Significant idea:

Riddur finds Grogu a new robe and it actually has a little Mudhorn design on it.

And Din loves it so much!

But then he comes back from a solo hunt to find Riddur having stitched the mudhorn into every tunic, every shaw, and in the corner of her favorite blanket.

And she just blushes and shyly says “well I don’t have a ring so I figured this would be the next best thing.”

And Din can’t think, his heart feels like it’s been pulled from his chest and all he can do is bundle his little clan into his arms.

Signet + Din Djarin x gn!reader

a/n: Okay I changed this one up just a little bit but I think it still fits the bill. 😌💕 this is apart of the significant-verse! it can be read on its own, din and reader are married.

"Look ad'ika," you say to the child in his floating pod beside you. "Do you want one?" You ask in Mando'a.

You're paused in front of a market stall. The artisan makes textiles as well as patches that can be sown onto clothes.

She cocks a brow at you as the child coos back. "Right."

You turn back to her and switch back to Basic. "If I sketched a design for you, could you make it for us?"

"Sure, anything." She passes you a datapad and stylus.

You haven't drawn in years, so your recreation of the mudhorn signet is a little sloppy at first. Still, you manage to clean it up, and show the baby for approval before handing it back to the artisan.

She glances between the two of you before looking at your sketch of the mudhorn signet. She doesn't comment on it. "How many would you like?"

"Mm," you hum under your breath before looking back to Grogu. "A couple," you say. "Three." You could sew them to the child's robe, his blanket and yours.

"Sure," she says, already threading cloth into a machine. "Give me an hour or so."

You nod and sweep your arm out, pulling Grogu's pod along beside you. "Your dad will be so proud he won't know what to do with himself," you say to the child, switching back to Mando'a. You've made a point of only speaking in Mando'a to Grogu recently. Din had told you your fluency and accent were improving because of it, but you suspect he'd say that no matter what. "You'll match."

Grogu coos up at you, head tilting to the slide as his ears twitch. "Yes, exactly. He'll love it. We'll stitch the patch on your sleeve and see how long it takes him to notice when he gets back."

The child babbles again as you settle at a table inside the cantina after you order. "Yes, he's going to be a bit angry that we left the ship when he said not to, but I think he worries too much, don't you?"

The sound the child makes is pitched in assent. "Exactly. Y'know I used to travel the galaxy on my own without a bounty hunter at my back. Strange to think of now."

You missed it sometimes, traveling wherever you pleased whenever you had the credits, to take odd jobs and explore until you wanted to move on again. It was exactly how the Mandalorian had found you on Tatooine in the employ of Peli.

"He leaves his kid unattended and then with two strangers," you'd said to Peli when she called you crazy for agreeing to go along with him. "When the Empire is trying to kill hid kid...or something?" You still hadn't been clear then on what exactly the dynamic was. "He needs help. And when will another Mandalorian ever come along and offer me the chance to travel with them?"

It was a once in a lifetime chance. The pull of adventure had been too great, and you had only expected to travel with them for a few months at the most, before skipping out on some other world.

You'd never expected to fall in love with him, for his child to become your own. And you certainly never thought he'd feel anything for you.

The child coos again and you smile, reaching out a hand to rub the tip of one long ear between your fingers. "I'll tell you about it sometime. I think the stories would give Mando a heart attack."

Grogu giggles, and takes the bowl of broth you offer him when its brought to the table.

You stop by the textile maker and exchange some credits for the little patches she'd created for you before trekking back to the ship.

Din still isn't back, though if he had been you would have already received a panicked comm. You lift Grogu out of his pod and set to work stitching the little patch to his sleeve.

He's unusually well behaved, sitting still and watching your hands work carefully until the patch is in place and tied off. "Look at you!" you say, gently running a hand over his head. "You look just like dad."

The child looks happy, big eyes focused on the newly sown patch. "Okay, long day, huh? Dinner and bed."

~

The horizon is still dark when Din wakes you gently. "Riduur," he threads bare fingers through yours.

"Din," you sit up from where you'd fallen asleep in the pilot's chair. "You're back. Are you okay?"

"Yes," he answers, still holding your hand as you stand. You shake his fingers away and reach up to pluck the helmet off his head.

You don't often do it without warning, or without asking, so Din is already leaning in to kiss you when you laugh and tug him over to the baby's pod. "I want you to see - look -," you gently pull Grogu's sleeve into a better position for him to see the patch, and the the edge of the blanket that you'd sown after the child fell asleep.

Din steps behind you, his chin resting on your shoulder. "You left the ship," he grumbles.

"Ugh," you say. "Don't be like that-,"

His lips press softly into your cheek and his voice is oddly creaky when he says, "Thank you."

You turn in his arms and lean in to kiss him, still smiling. His hair is damp with sweat, his skin glowing in the growing early morning light. Reluctantly, you replace the helm and knock your forehead against his. "Now you match."

Din turns your hands in his and squeezes tightly. Just as you'd predicted, his shoulders are tilted in that prideful way that only came with being reminded of belonging in his little clan.

"And what of you, riduur?" He asks. "Why don't you match us?"

You shrug. "I was only thinking of the child. I stitched one on our blanket too."

Din tilts his head at you but doesn't comment, pressing his forehead softly against yours again before heading down the ladder. You know he wants to use the 'fresher after a hunt.

An idea lodges in your mind, as you get Grogu's breakfast when he wakes.

"Din," you call through the 'fresher door minutes later. "I need to pick something up. I'll be back."

"I will go with you-," he immediately replies, his voice unmodulated through the door.

"No," you say. "I'm leaving the baby here. He's eating. I'll be back."

You pat your child's ears before heading out.

When you sit down in the tattooist's shop, you tell yourself its a good idea. Even if something happened between you and Din it would be a reminder of your time with him, and of your son.

~

Din is pacing around the hull of the ship when you get back. He pauses and looks at you, Grogu cradled in his elbow.

He relaxes, shoulders loosening, obviously trying to play off his anxiety.

You smile and move toward him, his gaze heavy even from behind the visor. "What did you do, riduur?" He asks.

You roll up your sleeve and offer him your wrist. The tattoo is covered by a clear bandage.

He's silent for a long time, his free hand eventually rising to cup your wrist. His thumb traces the outline of the mudhorn signet permanently etched into your skin. "No mistaking where I belong now."

"No," he agrees.

"Clan Djarin," you say with a smile, wrapping your other hand around his on your wrist. "You never presented me with a ring so-,"

"Mandalorians do not offer rings," he interrupts. "Though I should have presented you with something. A mark of your place."

You repress a smile and tug at the lip of his helm so he has to meet your gaze. "My place is marked now, Din. What are you supposed to give?"

"A weapon, usually."

You tilt your head, your knife was one he'd offered you long ago. "I have a weapon from you."

He shifts from foot to foot. "Yes." He doesn't explain further, his attention on your wrist again where the child has settled his little hand over your skin.

It's a long time before you move from that place, your clan huddled together.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mandalorian x reader #significant verse

[thefrogdalorian]

hi spud! i remembered u did requests & was wondering if maybe u could do like a first kiss scenario w din? 🥺 something soft & yearn-y? aha. no worries if u can't but thanks anyways. 🩷

Hello Senna! Thank you so much for your request! Thinking about a first kiss with Din really inspired me (how does he hide his face from you and still kiss you? What leads up to the moment?? so many questions!!) and this was the result. There is plenty of yearning and some softness sprinkled in but a little angst too (very happy ending though aghhhdkgj). Thanks again and really hope you like it!! 🤍

A New Dawn

Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Word Count: 5107

Rating: General

Summary:  Travelling through the galaxy with a mysterious nameless and faceless Mandalorian with a reputation as the best bounty hunter in the parsec would probably terrify most people. Instead, over the months you have known Mando, you have discovered his gentler, more affectionate side. Living in such proximity to the man you have an enormous crush on threatens to suffocate you as you determine that he must never find out. But after a job seemingly goes badly wrong on a forest planet, the fear of losing him will perhaps finally be the tipping point for a new dawn in your relationship...

Content Warnings: Kissing, bit of angst when there's brief panic for Din/reader's safety (happy ending though!), allusions to violence (canon-typical, nothing descriptive/graphic).

✯ My Masterlist ✯ Read on AO3 ✯

Upon that fateful day on which you had entered an agreement with a bounty hunter, you had been under no illusions that there would be much unpredictability given his line of work. That there would be periods of isolation when he left you behind in his ship while he went in search of his latest bounty. You could be alone on that ship for weeks; well, save for the big-eared, bug-eyed green baby, whose care you had been entrusted with, by the mysterious man who was your employer. When agreeing to travel with The Mandalorian, you had expected the randomness of the path that you cut through the galaxy, journeying from planet to planet depending on his latest jobs. The anguish that came with wondering where he was and whether the jobs were going well as you sat in the Razor Crest and cared for his child. Despite how much it had bothered you at first, you had gradually become used to such emotions. You expected them.

What you had never expected was the fondness you had developed for the man.

The first few times that Mando had headed off the ship for a job, you had been almost nonchalant about his absence, barely noticing the passage of time. You passed your days playing with The Child when you were not fast asleep in your bunk. But slowly and surely, he had begun to mean something more to you. You noticed it in his absence most of all. The ship felt empty without his deep voice and you missed his calm, reassuring presence.

It was strange really, considering that you had never laid eyes upon him. In fact, you had rarely seen him dressed in anything less than his full armour, complete with all the weapons he attached to himself almost ritualistically, without fail, every single day. Even if you were merely hurtling through hyperspace, he was still armed to the teeth. Mando had explained that weapons were part of his religion and his armour was like a second skin to him. You were curious, but not judgmental, about his way of life. It was vastly different to your own and entirely contradictory to anything you had ever heard about Mandalorians before. Even the scant information you had overheard about the formidable warriors in the miserable Cantina where you had once been employed had never included anything about Mandalorians being forbidden from removing their helmets in the presence of others. 

Mando had made it abundantly clear, before you ever stepped foot aboard the Razor Crest, that wearing his helmet was a definitive boundary, never to be questioned or pushed. It was his ultimate line in the sand that you were never to cross. You were respectful of his Creed, asking questions with a curious rather than invasive intention which he seemed to appreciate. In fact, rather than driving a wedge between you, his Way had provoked many thoughtful conversations between the two of you.

There were nights you would sit in the cockpit as the brilliant blue trails of hyperspace surrounded you, bonding over your similar pasts. Sometimes, you would wake up in the bunk underneath the tiny hammock that belonged to The Child with no memory of clambering in the previous night. He never admitted it, but you were almost certain that Mando had carried you there himself, putting his impressive physique to use for something other than hauling bounties back to the Razor Crest. 

Amongst it all, you had learned his habits and quirks. You learned the way he liked his caf in the morning. How meticulous he was with polishing his armour until it gleamed so brightly, even in the dark of hyperspace, that you could see every detail of your reflection, right down to your pores. You discovered that he cleaned his weapons, taking them apart and checking every inch of them when he was particularly stressed or his bounties were not as straightforward as he had hoped. 

Most of all, you discovered how incredibly kind and caring the man beneath the hard, intimidating armour truly was.

Although he had weapons strapped to every inch of his body, Mando could be impossibly gentle. You had witnessed evidence of his ruthless efficiency when he returned to the ship laden with several bounties. Sometimes alive, sometimes dead, though he usually prevented you from seeing the more grisly sights. Yet the man you saw most often of all, moving around the Razor Crest with you as you hurtled around the galaxy, amongst the stars was different to reconcile with the violent nature of his profession. 

It was difficult to believe that the hands that had earned him the reputation as the most formidable bounty hunter in the parsec due to their proficiency in neutralising even elusive targets were the very same hands that were impossibly gentle when placing The Child in his hammock. The same hands that had extinguished countless lives had been used to rock the little one after he awoke from the nightmares that frequently plagued him. Nightmares that plagued Mando, too. But you had never been bold enough to bring up the tossing and turning you had heard from his bunk pretty much every night since you had started travelling with him. Despite the relatively personal conversations and information you had gleaned from him, it still felt a step too far. You didn’t want to cause him to shut down by prying, especially not after he had seemed to become genuinely comfortable in your presence and show you the gentler side of his nature. 

You felt so privileged to see such a side to him. It was a side that you had never expected to witness. After all, you had been utterly terrified the first time you encountered him, when he strutted into the run-down Cantina you worked in. He was impossible not to stare at, clad in that unpainted armour that glinted when the light hit it in just the right spot. You had never seen a Mandalorian in the flesh before, but you had heard plenty of legends about them. Mandalorians were famed across the galaxy for their ruthless, lethal accuracy and formidable fighting skills. 

That feeling of gratitude had soon developed into something else, though. A feeling that you would class as affection, albeit affection that was veering dangerously close into the territory of a four-letter word that your mind could not even contemplate. A feeling that would be all too dangerous to harbour for a man who you still felt you knew so little about. 

You were certain that your feelings for Mando were doing untold damage to your health. Living in such proximity to a man you harboured a devastatingly intense crush towards would one day succeed in suffocating you. Your chest ached whenever he was near, knowing that there was no possibility he could ever reciprocate your feelings. You knew that your love would remain unrequited. Above all, you knew that he must never, ever discover the depths of your affection towards him. 

There were more than a few times you had dissolved into tears during a few moments of solitude in the ‘fresher; your salty tears mixing with the hot jets of water from the Razor Crest’s shower. One particular occasion, when your feelings had left you particularly devastated, was the evening when Mando had returned from his latest job, during which he had to terminate the asset after one escape attempt too many. The asset’s termination would result in a lower fee and you knew that was partially the reason for Mando’s frustration. Yet, despite his reputation, you also knew that he did not relish killing bounties, much preferring to lure them back to the ship and freeze them in carbonite. In everything you knew about him, it appeared that Mando did not get a particular thrill from killing people that he, personally, had no qualms with. Although you knew that if anyone ever threatened even one white hair on the wrinkled little head of The Child, Mando would not hesitate to cut them down where they stood. 

That evening, The Mandalorian’s exasperation had been evident from the second he had returned to the Razor Crest, ordering you and The Child to hide in the cockpit while he stored the remains so you would not have to witness such a gruesome sight. You knew immediately that the job had not been easy and your heart ached for him. When Mando had given you the all-clear, you had descended the ladder down to the main hull of the ship with shaky hands and legs. Your trembling limbs did not come from the fact you were descending the rungs one-handed and carefully cradling The Child in your other arm, you were well used to that. No, you were dreading seeing Mando so frustrated… because of the way it made you feel. Seeing him so wound up, knowing that you were the one to put his pieces back together in your own subtle way thrilled you. It was a dangerous prospect. 

“I take it the job wasn’t successful?” You questioned, tone neutral. You attempted to appear as nonchalant as possible as you handed The Child to him. You hoped that taking the little one in his arms would go some way to calming him down.

“No,” Mando responded, definitively. His tone of voice made it abundantly clear that he did not want to discuss the matter further with you. 

“Perhaps I could put The Child to bed, while you take a shower?” You offered, wanting to do anything to soothe his frayed nerves. 

Mando shook his head. 

“I’ll do it, thanks,” he added gruffly.

You nodded before turning your back and climbing the ladder back up to the cockpit to give them their space. There was hardly any privacy in a ship so compact. Sometimes it could feel slightly claustrophobic aboard the Razor Crest, but you and Mando had worked a pretty good system out by now so you did not feel as though you were constantly on top of each other. You learned that he was a surprisingly patient man and did not express his anger in the way one might have expected from one capable of so much violence.

It was no surprise when you descended the rungs a while later to find him standing in front of the weapons cabinet, broad shoulders tensed as he examined his impressively-stocked armoury. You didn’t say a word, wondering whether he was about to tell you to return to the cockpit and leave him alone. Though you hoped that he would interpret your presence as a comforting one, not an invasive one. 

“Could you pass me the cleaning cloth, please?” Mando asked.

“Of course,” you replied, opening the crate where he kept his cleaning equipment. You selected the cloth that you knew he favoured and handed it to him, the corners of your lips curving upwards in a slight, shy smile. 

“Thank you,” Mando said appreciatively as his gloved hand rested on your upper arm and squeezed it gently. You sensed that he was thanking you for much more than passing him the cloth. Something about his touch and the way he said it had sickened you to your core. 

“I‘m gonna take a shower,” was all you managed to say, before you turned away from him.

You had practically sprinted to the ‘fresher then, needing privacy more than anything as you crumbled. As tears streamed down your cheeks, you tortured yourself over and over asking the same question:

How could a man capable of such violence be so gentle with you? 

Your soul was truly tortured by the feelings that you held for this man. 

It was that moment you thought of now. A moment amongst many others, as you sat and waited for Mando to return from his latest assignment. You were accustomed to days turning to weeks and weeks even turning to months on the rare occasion. It was a solitary experience, just you and The Child in the Razor Crest. You would not see another life form for weeks. Nor would you speak to anyone other than The Child. You weren't always certain whether he understood you. Mando always left a comlink with you, but it was reachable only by him. It was strictly for emergencies. In all the months that you had travelled with him, it had never once sounded when he was off on a mission. It had led you to wonder whether it even worked at all.

Occasionally, Mando would permit you to leave the ship but on particularly hostile planets, you were confined to the silver hull of his home, with just your ration packs and the mysterious green child for company.

This particular planet was one of such peril. Thus, Mando had forbidden you from leaving the ship. Although you always respected his demands, for The Child’s as much as your own sake, you adored the little guy, the loneliness was beginning to eat into your gut and make you feel grouchy after such a long period of isolation. Mando had told you that he expected the job to last no more than three days, but it was ten since he had crept out in the dead of night, armed to the teeth in pursuit of a crime lord who had made one enemy too many. 

As you lay back on the bunk, thinking of the man who had unexpectedly left such a deep impression on your heart, The Child began mewling. You instantly sat up, sighing softly as you reached into his hammock and stroked the end of one of his large green ears between your thumb and forefinger. 

“What’s up, buddy?” You questioned, rocking him gently and hoping that you had prevented him from dissolving into gut-wrenching sobs.

The Child just gazed at you with his big brown eyes, expression unreadable. 

“Do you want something to eat?” You asked, often knowing that the way to soothe his heart was through his stomach. 

The Child finally gave some indication of what was wrong with a small nod and you opened the door to the bunk and made your way towards the fortunately still well-stocked cupboards. Fortunately, Mando was fastidious in always ensuring there was enough food for the two of you. You appreciated that all the more as you gave The Child a bar which he wolfed down in only a couple of bites, despite his tiny frame. He had been fed barely an hour ago, but the little guy had a voracious appetite.

With a newly full stomach, you hoped that the little womp rat would finally get some sleep when you returned him to his hammock. Yet, as you lay back on your own bunk, you found that you could not settle.

Time became an illusion after so many days cooped up in the Razor Crest and despite the late hour, according to your chrono, you found that you were wide awake. There was nothing to do except pace around the Crest. 

You must have paced around the Crest enough times to cover the circumference of the planet when you were finally on when a sound caused you to stop in your tracks. It sounded like a faint crackle from where your comlink rested on some crates, forgotten and discarded. Until now. You barely had time to react before it chirped into life, with the sound of a familiar deep voice crackling slightly suddenly blaring from it.

Mando was calling your name.

You darted across the hull and scooped up the comlink from its position on top of the very crate from which you had fished out cleaning supplies. You were startled by the fact that Mando was actually using it. 

“It’s Mando,” he panted, tone desperate. “Listen, things aren’t looking good. If I’m not back by sunrise, take The Child and run. Promise me, you’ll get out of there. Promise m–”

Before Mando could finish and much less, could you even respond, the line went dead.

You stood there, startled by the turn of events. Your mind racing with thoughts. Where would you go? Which supplies should you pack? How far away was sunrise from now? Could you even use a blaster to shoot an enemy down, if needed? What were you going to do without Mando? How would you take care of The Child alone?

You wanted to sink to your knees, shout and scream. That was not an option. You knew that you had to keep going. Mando had wanted you to vow to him, which you would have done in a heartbeat had the line not first been cruelly cut. Even if he could not hear you, you still wanted to pledge your word to him.

“I promise I’ll protect The Child, Mando,” you whispered, clutching the comlink to your chest as tears streamed down your cheeks silently and the realisation that you could find yourself alone in the galaxy once more dawned upon you. 

You spent the next couple of hours packing and then repacking as many bags as you could manage to carry and pathetically practising gripping a blaster. Mando had demonstrated once or twice, in case you ever found yourself in a bind. You were certainly in one now, but the adrenaline coursing through your body made it near impossible to remember such careful, deliberate instructions. You contemplated the fact that he had chosen you for a reason, to care for The Child. Whatever such a reason was, it seemed futile now. You were in no fit state to care for anyone.

The guilt threatened to overwhelm you as you spent a few precious minutes watching The Child sleep, blissfully unaware of the anguished state his caregiver was currently in. Your heart ached for him. The bond he shared with Mando was something beyond words and you knew he would be devastated. How could you manage to take care of a distraught child and keep him safe from the same evil forces that had taken his father? 

You checked your chrono, heart sinking as you realised how close sunrise now was. Your heart thundered in your ears as you ascended the ladder for what was almost certainly the last time, your head peeking over the floor of the cockpit as you saw the pitch blackness of night gradually giving way to the lighter shade of blue that indicated that sunrise was imminent. As soon as the sky was flecked with oranges and pinks, you knew you had to obey Mando’s command and leave. 

You imagined him, frightened and injured, stumbling his way through the thick trees you could just about see from the cockpit, desperately fighting to return to you. You willed him on, hoping against all odds that he would make it back to you, safe and sound. You would berate him for putting himself into such a dangerous position. Then, you would piece him back together and prepare him to do it all over again. You were hopelessly devoted to him. Now, such devotion had placed you in this position. Alone, once again.

Alas, despite a valiant effort, Mando's return was not to be. He had tried his best, but it was not good enough. When the sky blazed brilliant bronze, you knew it was time to go. 

You descended the rungs for the last time, bidding a silent farewell to the ship where you had found so much happiness with such an unlikely companion and his even unlikelier son. You felt a lump in your throat, your eyes filling with tears as the finality of the moment dawned on you. Then, you exhaled and pushed your shoulders back, imagining yourself wearing armour like Mando. You had to do it, for him. You had to grant his dying wish. You had to be brave for The Child.

You were only two paces from the bunk when you heard it. The unmistakable whirring of the Razor Crest’s door opening. It was a sound that usually signified Mando's return. This time, though, it signified your imminent demise.

You were frozen to the spot, then. You were certain that the forces that had gotten to Mando were now here to finish you and The Child off, too. You contemplated reaching for the blaster that was in the bags just a few steps away, but you knew it was futile, given your inexperience. The forces that had murdered your Mandalorian would make short work of someone as inept as you. The best you could do was give yourself up, so that The Child may live. Hopefully, he would be undetected in his bunk, sleeping soundly despite the bloodshed just a few paces away.

You shut your eyes and thought of Mando, wondering if you were about to join him. You braced yourself for a blaster shot that never came. For it was not the alien sounds of a mysterious, threatening entity that your ears detected emanating approaching your position. No, it was not that at all.

Instead, you stood there, aghast as the familiar heavy, even thuds and slight clinking of armour echoed with every step up the ramp of the Razor Crest. The reassuring sound finally reached through your frayed nerves and your eyes flew open as you spun around in disbelief. This was not the end. There was no threat. Instead, there was an instantly familiar sound, one that you had feared you would never hear again. The noise signalled to you that somehow, against all odds, he had returned to you.

“Mando?” You questioned, momentarily terrified that an enemy holding a blaster would appear into view behind him.

“Sorry about that,” Mando huffed and you realised that particular fear was unfounded. “Job got a bit messier than I anticipated.”

The only indication of the gravity of his situation that had necessitated his desperate message was the evidence of numerous blaster shots that his armour had clearly taken, given the black marks on its otherwise pristine surface. The corners of your lips curled up in a knowing smirk. You knew he would spend most of your journey to the next planet cleaning every single plate with painstaking attention to detail. 

“But th-the you used the comlink?” You stuttered, aghast at his sudden appearance in the Razor Crest.

“I did,” he confirmed. “And were you about to leave?” Mando asked as he entered the ship and approached you. You were unable to reply with words, suddenly feeling incredibly choked up. You nodded and gestured towards the bags you had hurriedly packed.

“Good,” Mando nodded approvingly.

“I thought you were…” you shook your head, unable to finish that sentence and vocalise the dark places your mind had travelled.

“Dead.” Mando finished for you.

You nodded again. You would almost be amused by his familiar bluntness were you not still so shocked by his presence.

“I had sharper reflexes,” he shrugged cockily, a simple explanation for events that you were sure were far more complex than he was letting on.

“I thought I was alone. I thought I… I thought I’d have to leave here and never see you again,” you stammered, voice cracking at the thought. “Did you at least complete the job?”

“Yes,” Mando nodded. “Proof of termination was sufficient and I acquired it,” he explained, deep voice slightly hoarse thanks to the force that he had undoubtedly exerted in completing such a perilous job. 

“I don’t know if I want to kill you, or kiss you right now,” you sighed, shaking your head in disbelief at his accomplishment. Then, the realisation that you had finally given voice to your most intimate thoughts dawned on you. You clapped your hand over your mouth, eyes widening in horror. You were utterly mortified.

Mando was unmoving, which only added to your panic. You noticed the way his hands clenched into fists briefly and he sighed deeply. Then he tilted his head slightly and unclenched his fists.

“Close your eyes,” Mando commanded. 

Although his voice was quiet, something about the way he said it struck fear into your heart. There was a darkness to his voice, to his tone that terrified you. You were certain that he was going to punish you for such a remark. You had always been slightly afraid of him despite the gentleness he had shown you. Now, it appeared that those lingering fears were well-founded. He was probably disgusted by you. He had taken you in when you were at your lowest, given you a job, a bunk and a purpose. 

Yet, he had unknowingly given you so much more than that. It didn’t matter anymore, though. Especially not now that you had let your feelings get the better of you. You were convinced that he was going to kick you out, convinced that there was absolutely no possibility that he reciprocated your feelings for him. Mando hated you. You were certain of that.  

“Mando, I’m sorry. I didn’t mea–” you stammered, eyes still widened in horror.

The presence of soft leather against your skin abruptly cut your frantic apologies off, mid-utterance. His glove was warm across your forehead, nose and cheeks as his hand dwarfed your features. The loss of vision that came with his gloved hand covering your eyes stopped all coherent thoughts in your brain. The hiss of his helmet depressurising, a sound you had previously heard only through the door of the ‘fresher, made your heart quicken until it was beating with alarming speed. Then, the feeling of his soft lips moving gently against yours caused it to stop completely.

You were struck by two things. Firstly, the fact that the man you had been certain was dead, was not only very much alive but was presently moving his lips against yours. Secondly, underneath his helmet, Mando apparently kept a moustache. You could feel the bristles of his facial hair tickling slightly as his lips claimed yours in a tender kiss.

You were certain that your heart was going to give out if your knees did not first, momentarily fearful that you would send the pair of you crashing in a tangle of limbs to the hard, metallic surface of the Razor Crest’s floor with a thud. Fortunately, you happened to be kissing the most formidable bounty hunter in the parsec, who soon wrapped his spare arm around your waist and demonstrated, in the way that he held you, all the strength and certainty that had gained him such a reputation. You smirked against his lips as the hand that was not currently covering your eyes trailed up your back, travelling across your body over the coat that you had pulled on in preparation for your imminent departure from the Razor Crest. 

The movement of your lips together was electrifying. It confirmed that the connection you were certain had been building between the two of you was real. It felt so natural, as though you had always been destined to be pulled into each other’s orbits in this way. You felt chills traverse your skin as your brain perceived the scent of his glove, given its proximity to your nose. At once, you could smell the story of his perilous brush with death. There was the distinctive smoky scent of explosions, the sharp metallic smell from his ever-steady grip on his blaster, the earthy undertones – no doubt thanks to days of traipsing through undergrowth, – the musky smell that was unmistakably masculine, unmistakably him and finally, the faint hints of leather. As you registered each scent, you were reminded, once again, of the lethality this man was capable of. A man who was currently kissing you with such fondness and affection.

When your lungs started to burn – from the exhilaration or oxygen deprivation, you weren’t sure – Mando finally pulled away, leaving you breathless and dizzy from the events which had just transpired between the two of you. You smiled and bit your lip in glee, as the realisation of the monumental shift in your relationship that had just occurred hit you. You hoped it had not been a one-off, a fleeting moment of carelessness on his part that he would come to regret.

“You couldn’t kill me anyway,” Mando whispered, his breath hot against the shell of your ear. You were stunned. Clearly, that was not the case. This had been a deliberate, measured action on his part.

Then, the tell-tale hissing sound indicated that Mando had replaced his helmet. You couldn’t help the fact that your heart dropped a little at the sound. After all, despite how much you respected his devotion to The Way, there was always a simmering curiosity about his appearance. Especially having just kissed him. You could still feel the slight scratchiness that lingered on your skin from the bristles of his facial hair, a ghost of the kiss you had just shared; a reminder that it had happened.

Mando removed his hand from your eyes and you mourned the loss of contact, having relished the way that his hand had engulfed your face with its enormous size as it drowned your features. He always seemed to be everywhere, a looming presence over you.

“Mando, I –” you began, but he raised the same gloved hand that had just rested against your forehead, cutting you off once again.

“My name is Din,” he said quietly before he lowered his hand again.

“Oh,” you breathed, stunned that he had entrusted you with such a precious piece of information.

Although, given the fact that he had just kissed you, perhaps it was a logical step. Nevertheless, you appreciated the fact that you finally had a name to put to the deep voice you adored. Din, not Mando, was the man who had just stolen all rational thought from your mind with the gentle touch of his lips.

You smiled then, the first genuine smile that had graced your features since Din had left the Razor Crest ten days previously. Only a few minutes ago, you had feared that he would never return. Now, just when you had been certain your life with him was over, it appeared that it was just beginning.

As the sun rose over the Razor Crest, still surrounded by the trees of the forest planet you had been certain would be the location of an ending, it was clear that a new dawn was here for you and Din. A beginning was upon you, the start of something beautiful.

It was the first kiss you had shared with Din. But you were certain that it would not be your last.

#din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #mando x you #pedro pascal characters #my fics #inbox #request #suresnips

[steddieasitgoes]

written for @eddiemonth Day 7 Prompt: Wayne

note: this one is in Wayne's POV and it's a little different than how I usually write, but it means the absolute world to me, so I hope you all enjoy it!

read on ao3 | link to my ao3 Eddie Month series

Wayne Munson remembers the exact moment he found out he was going to be an uncle. 

It was a frigid January morning in Hawkins. The heater in the Munsons’ trailer had stopped working a week before, and Wayne had been too busy working days and taking night classes at the junior college in the next town over to fix it. 

His mama had said she would call Al to come help, but Wayne knew the odds of him stopping by were slim to numb. He had better things to do than check in on his mother and younger brother. Things like keeping the Hawkins police department busy with his petty crime schemes and treating his latest girlfriend with little to no respect. A packed schedule in Al’s eyes. 

So, when Wayne stepped out of the trailer that January morning, bundled in his worn winter coat, he nearly tripped and fell on his ass when he spotted Al on the hood of his car, leisurely smoking a cigarette. 

“Evelyn is pregnant,” Al said between puffs of smoke. “She’s keeping it. M’gonna be a pa.” 

A range of emotions washed over Wayne at that moment. Anxiety for Al and Evelyn and their unborn child. Al wasn’t exactly father material, and it’s not like they had a dad to learn from. Happiness for their family and the joy a new baby would bring the Munson’s. Worry, mainly for Evelyn and the baby, but also for Al and how something like this was going to affect the small gains he’d made that year. 

But mostly, and Wayne would never tell anyone this, he felt jealous. 

Wayne was the one who babysat the neighbor kids when they were younger to make a quick buck while Al schemed. Wayne was the one who always waved to babies in the grocery store line. The one who always snuck his coworkers’ kids candy at the annual Fourth of July BBQs. And remembered to send well wishes home on their birthdays. 

Wayne was the one who loved kids. Who wanted kids. But would never, ever get to have kids for reasons he was too ashamed to admit most days. 

Unlike Al, who would have let the jealousy fester into something nasty, Wayne choked it all down and gave in to the happier emotions. Promising to be there for Al and Evelyn and his new nephew. 

A promise he kept for all nine months of Evelyn’s pregnancy (going on midnight craving runs when Evelyn moved into the Munson trailer after getting kicked out of her own house and then nervously pacing the maternity ward on Halloween night when she finally went into active labor after three false alarms). He kept his promise for the entire first year of Eddie’s life. Helping with feedings and changings. And anything else he could do. 

Wayne was the one to drive Evelyn and Eddie to the hospital the first time he caught a cold and wouldn’t stop coughing. He was there the first time Evelyn fed him mushy baby food that Eddie ended up spitting up all over the place. He saw Eddie roll over for the first time and crawl. He was even there for Eddie’s first nonsensical word — a bastard version of “mama” that sent Evelyn into hysterics and had Al rolling his eyes. 

Wayne was ready to be there for all of Eddie’s first, but then fate reared its ugly, no-good, wicked head, and suddenly, Wayne was being shipped off to boot camp to fight in a war he spent the last three years protesting against. 

But his birthday was called, and Wayne had no choice but to suit up and fight. 

Well, no, that’s not true. 

There was one way to get out of the draft. 

But the thought of admitting to having homosexual tendencies was more terrifying than dying overseas. So, he kept his mouth shut and went and did his time. 

Five years to be exact. 

Five grueling, traumatic, waste of his youth years. 

Most importantly, five years without his nephew. 

Eddie was six, almost seven years old, when Wayne finally made it back home to Hawkins. Unruly curls, just like Wayne once had before the military got involved. Big brown eyes that, despite only being 7, he knew how to use to get him out of trouble. And a brilliant, imaginative mind that captivated Wayne the moment he scooped Eddie into his arms after coming home and Eddie asked, “Ma, who is this bald guy? And why is he trying to squeeze the poop out of me?” 

Wayne knew he’d never get those five years back, but he promised himself to try and make up for them every chance he got. And so “Waynesdays” was born. 

Every third Wednesday of the month, Wayne would spend with Eddie. Sometimes, he’d show up at Evelyn and Al’s trailer early in the morning to pick Eddie up before he went off to school. With Evelyn’s permission, Eddie would ditch and they’d spend the day uncle-nephew bonding. Other times, Wayne would be waiting outside the gates of Eddie’s school, ready to whisk him away as soon as the dismissal bell rang. 

(“Uncle Wayne, Uncle Wayne,” Eddie would shout, running into Wayne’s arm with enough force to send them toppling into the grass. The falls weren’t great for Wayne’s war-torn body, but he never complained. Nothing a frozen bag of peas and a cigarette couldn’t fix the next morning.) 

Whatever the case, the third Wednesday of every month was dedicated to them. 

The first few years, it was simple things. Wayne would take Eddie out for ice cream before stopping at the library. They’d spend hours walking up and down the aisles. Wayne telling Eddie stories that rivaled the books on the shelves. They’d go antiquating — a hobby Wayne inherited from his own mother that Eddie seemingly inherited when he took an interest in Garfield merchandise. 

(“He’s just so fat, Uncle Wayne!” Eddie laughed, squeezing the plush belly of a Garfield stuffed animal. “I want to be fat like him one day! Don’t you?”) 

As Eddie got older, their adventures stretched beyond the Hawkins city limits. Wayne took him to Indianapolis at least twice a year. Introduced him to music. Took him to see movies at the fancy cineplex in the city that sold a tub of popcorn bigger than Eddie’s head. He even promised to take Eddie to the colorful bar they always passed as soon as he turned 21. 

(“But that’s such a long time away,” Eddie had whined, grubby fingers pressed into the glass of the window as he peered inside. “Are you sure I can’t go in there now? They have an arcade machine! Those are for kids!”)

In the summers, Waynesday because Waynesweek. 

When Eddie was younger, they spent the week camping. Two sleeping bags side by side in a tent. They’d trade imaginative stories around a campfire and roast marshmallows until they were burnt to a crisp. The trips were hard on Wayne at first — bringing back memories of the war. But seeing Eddie smile and roll around in mud without a care in the world was worth every sleepless night. 

(“If I catch the frog, can I bring it home?” he shouted one summer, arms already elbow-deep in the swampy puddle. “I promise to take care of it!” 

“M’sure you would, boy,” Wayne said, cigarette between his lips. “But your ma would kill me if I let ya bring a frog into r’home. You know she’s afraid of ‘em.”)

Eventually, Eddie grew out of camping, and then their summer weeks were spent lounging in the trailer. They’d go days without leaving, living off of the groceries they stocked up on on the first day of Waynesweek. The couch always had a permanent butt dent after those weeks, but Wayne loved them all the same. Especially the ones that were spent hunched over board games and later hunched over scribbled-out notes and too many-sided die as Eddie explained some new, complex game to him. 

(“Okay, Uncle Wayne, so now that you made it to the fortress wall, you have to roll this one,” he said, passing Wayne a hexagon-looking dice. “And then whatever you get, we multiply it by the number here, and then if it’s high enough, you get to come inside.” 

“Now how come you can do multiplication in this game, but your ma says you got a bad grade on your last math test?” Wayne asked, brows raised as he rattled the die in his hands. 

“‘Cause school math is boring!” Eddie said, rolling those big brown eyes of his. “There’s no dragons in Ms. Tabbot’s class. Just boring old numbers!”)

Waynesday was a tradition Wayne held so near and dear to his heart that even after Evelyn unexpectedly passed away, Al landed himself permanently behind and Eddie ended up moving into Wayne’s trailer, he still kept up. 

Sure, things got a bit more complicated between them now that they saw each other every day, multiple times a day, with no breaks. They sure got on each other nerves a bit more.

(“Dammit, Eds,” Wayne cursed, tripping over a pair of Eddie’s boots thrown haphazardly in the middle of the hallway. “What’d I say about leavin’ these things lyin’ ‘round. They’ve got a home, put’m there.” 

“Fine,” Eddie groaned, coming out of his bedroom to pick up the shoes. “But then stop leaving your half-drank coffee cups in the bathroom! Why are you even taking it in there?”) 

And they fought, like most children do with the authority figures in their lives. 

(“That’s the second time Hop has let you off with a warning,” Wayne tsked, stalking behind Eddie as they climbed up the few steps to the trailer. “Neither of us are gonna be too nice if it happens again.” 

“You make it sound like I was stealing. I ditched one class. It’s no big deal.” 

“Those grades of yours say otherwise.” 

Eddie growled, rolling his eyes as he tore through the kitchen cabinets, looking for a snack. “This again? My grades are fine, Wayne. Okay. Stop worrying!”)

Sure, things were tough at times, but they also learned some important things about each, too. Things neither one of them thought they’d ever share in common with someone in Hawkins, Indiana. 

(“Where ya going, boy?” Wayne asked one night a few years ago when he walked into the trailer to find Eddie shoving random things into a duffle bag. The same duffle bag that Wayne had carefully placed in the backseat of the truck all those years ago when he picked up Eddie for the final time. 

“M’leaving,” Eddie said through gritted teeth. “And don’t even try to stop me, Wayne. Trust me, you’re not going to want me anymore.” 

A million and one things ran through Wayne’s head in that moment. Had Hopper caught Eddie ditching school again? Had he got his hands on that letter from Al ,Wayne had been hiding in the junk drawer? Was Eddie in some kind of trouble? Bigger trouble than ditching school and smoking pot at the quarry?” 

“Boy, what are you talkin’ about?” Wayne asked, stalking over to where Eddie was currently shoving tape after tape into the duffle bag. “M’always gonna want ya ‘round.” 

Eddie scoffed and kept his eyes trained on the tapes. It was easy for Wayne to see that Eddie was barely holding it together. The tapes shook in his hands and his growing hair did little to shield his red-rimmed eyes. 

“Eddie,” Wayne sighed, slowly lowering himself to the ground despite the protests of his body. “Come on, talk to me. Whatever it is, I’ll help you.” 

“You—you can’t. Not with this,” Eddie said, violently shaking his head. And then, in a moment of bravery, Eddie lifted his head and looked Wayne square in the eyes and said, “I’m gay, Wayne. Okay? That’s why m’leaving. And don’t even—“ 

Wayne cut Eddie off before he could finish whatever insult or wrong assumption was sure to follow. He pulled Eddie into his arms, tucked the boy’s head into the crook of his neck and held him tight. The same way he did all those years ago when he had to be the one to tell the boy that his ma had passed. And Eddie cried. Then and now. Big, fat, hot tears that soaked Wayne’s shirt. 

“Eds, boy, look at me,” Wayne said later when Eddie’s sobs had subsided into a steady stream of silent tears. “You ain’t going nowhere, okay? And you ain’t alone either. I know what you’re goin’ through. M’like you, too.” 

“Y-you, you’re gay?”  

“Yeah,” Wayne said after a painfully long moment. It was a truth he had never let himself think too much about. But now, sitting in the presence of his nephew, who was more like him than he originally thought. Well, now, Wayne thought it was time to accept that part of him. Especially if it would help his nephew. “Yeah, boy. M’gay.”)

So, yeah, living with Eddie full-time had its ups and downs. But no argument, even the ones that lasted days because they were both too stubborn to apologize, was going to stop them from celebrating Waynesday every third Wednesday of the month. Nor was Eddie’s newly minted twenty-year-old selfless heart that worried way too much about Wayne. But he can’t really fault the boy for that.

(“Wayne,” Eddie had sighed just last month. “We really don’t have to keep doing this. You should be able to rest on your one real day off of the month.” 

“Nonsense boy,” Wayne said, shooing Eddie off with the back of his hand. “Only thing I want to do on my day off s’spend time with you. Unless you’re too busy for your old uncle now.” 

Eddie snorted, shaking his head. “You know I always have time for you.”

“Good.” Wayne smiled. “Then get that boney ass of yours over here and let’s watch that movie you picked up before I get charged another late fee.”) 

Nothing had ever come in the way of their Waynesday tradition before, and Wayne sure as hell wasn’t going to let something break the tradition now.

“Hey, boy,” Wayne says, settling himself on the worn visitor chair in Eddie’s hospital room. “S’the 16th. Know what that means, right?” He pauses and waits for Eddie’s answer, which he knows isn’t coming. It’s been almost a month since he last heard Eddie speak, twenty days since he stumbled into Hawkins Memorial to find his nephew hooked up to machine after machine. But Wayne’s not giving up hope. Not even close. He’ll be sitting here ’til the cows come home.

“Yep,” he says eventually, patting Eddie’s IV-covered hand. “It’s Waynesday again. I’ll tell you what, time sure is gettin’ faster and m’getting older.” 

The steady, rhythmic beats of the machines keeping Eddie alive echo off the walls of the too-white room. Wayne listens to them for a moment, a weird sort of peace washing over him. S’long as they’re beeping, my boy’s still here, he thinks. 

Sighing, he reaches into the small backpack at his feet. The one he’s been carrying back and forth from the hospital when Eddie’s friends come to take the morning shift. He pulls out a blanket, shaking it out before draping it over his own body. And then he pulls out a worn paperback book. 

“Now, I know it’s been a while since we had one of those readin’ days you loved so much, but I thought maybe we could bring’m back,” he says, carefully opening the pages of the book. His hand traces down the first page, past the sticky finger stain of Eddie’s youth. “You best be patient with me, Eds. Y’know these names always trip me up. But m’gonna give it my best, okay?” 

Wayne pauses again, waiting for a response he knows he’s not going to get. And then he takes a deep breath and brings the book closer to his face. “In a hole in the ground there lives a h-hobbit.”

Eventually, the words start to blur together. Sentences turning into one long, giant word. And then, soon after, the letters start to blur too, until Wayne’s eyes are drooping and the book falls from his shaking hands into his awaiting lap. 

It’s not long after that Wayne’s soft snores fall into a steady rhythm with the beeping of Eddie’s machine. 

Beep. Snore. Beep. Snore. Beep. Snore. 

And so it goes for several hours until—

Beep, beep, beepbeepbeepbeep. 

Wayne shoots out of the chair, wobbly feet struggling to find their footing as he turns to the bed. Eddie’s lying there, like he always is, except this time, his big brown eyes stare back at him. Full of life and love and fear as he reaches a weak, shaky hand up to claw at the tube shoved down his throat. 

He doesn’t remember calling for the nurse, but they rush into the room in an instant. Circling Eddie’s bed like an animal stalking its prey. Its minutes of chaos. Nurses running to fetch doctors. Machines beeping erratically. Alarms blaring. Orders being shouted left and right.

Someone is crying, Wayne thinks, as his ears cut through the cacophony of noise when he’s pushed into the hallway. Oh it’s me, he realizes as he reaches a hand up to his tearstained cheeks. 

And then, just as quickly as it started, the chaos dies down and Wayne is let back into the room. Just Wayne and Eddie. Alone. Alive. Together. 

He doesn’t wait a moment longer and wedges himself onto the small hospital bed next to Eddie, wrapping his arms around his frail nephew. 

“D-d-did I miss it?” Eddie stutters out.

With a gruff laugh and a tearful glance at the watch on his wrist, Wayne turns to Eddie and smiles. “No, son, you made it just in time.” He twists his arm, showing Eddie the watch. The big hand points almost completely at the 12. The smaller hand settled perfectly over the 58th tick. 

“Our streak continues,” Eddie whispers before his eyes flutter shut, and his body falls into its first machineless slumber in twenty days. 

#eddiemonth #wayne munson #wayne munson fic #wayne munson ficlet #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson ficlet #eddie munson & wayne munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #dani writes

[roxygen22]

First Day of School

"My Little Cocoa Bean" Series

A/N: Reader inserts are minimal in this one. Reader stayed home with Baby Charlotte (aka Charlie) so Willy and Ben/Bean could have some 1:1 time before his first day of school.

☆☆☆☆☆

"Are you excited about your first day of school, Bean?" Willy asked as he walked through the park with his son. He took the day off to spend some quality time with the boy before he started kindergarten the next day.

Ben was slow to respond and fell behind Willy's pace. He stopped and looked back at the small boy. "Bean?"

Ben looked up at Willy, worry clearly etched in his features. He knelt down and rubbed Ben's arm in reassurance. Willy had anticipated some reticence since Ben had never spent a full day away from you or him.

"Papa," he said in a small voice. "Were you nervous on your first day of school?" The boy's lip trembled.

Willy carded a hand through Ben's curly hair, then rested it on his cheek. "Well, Bean, I didn't get to go to school. But, I have had other firsts. And yes, I was nervous every time."

"Like when?" Ben implored as if he could not imagine his papa being scared of anything.

Willy stood and paused to think. "Like my first day as a sailor. I lived on a boat as a child, sure, but that was on a calm river, not the open ocean. I remember standing on the dock staring up at the huge ship, knowing my life was about to change. I hadn't even climbed on board and I was already seasick just thinking about it." They started slowly ambling down the path again. "But, I did it anyway. After some time, I became a tip-top sailor, like I had been doing it all of my life, and got to see places that most people only dream of."

By that point, the pair had wandered to the base of their favorite hill in the park. Willy could see that Ben was still lost in thought. He needed to lighten the mood somehow.

"Hey, Bean?" he asked to get the boy's attention. Ben looked up solemnly. "Race ya!" Willy shouted gleefully and took off running up the hill. Temporarily stunned, Ben stared at him with wide eyes before chasing after him in a fit of giggles.

Winded, they lay in the grass at the summit to catch their breath and watch the clouds lazily drift by. The two took turns pointing out shapes of animals. After a bit, Willy continued his earlier lecture.

"It's perfectly normal to feel those nervous butterflies in your tummy on the eve of change."

"But I don't want anything to change," Ben lamented. "I won't get to play with Mamma and Charlie. I won't get to help you make new chocolate or candies."

"I know it will be different, but you can still come to the factory or shop after school or on the weekends. Your mother and Charlie will still be eager to play with you when you get home. I bet you'll even make new friends to play with at school. You'll find a new normal. Besides, life would be boring if nothing ever changed."

They turned their heads to look at each other. Willy booped him on the nose with his index finger and smiled. "You probably wouldn't be here if I hadn't gotten on that boat."

"Huh?"

"Well, seafaring allowed me to gather lots of exotic ingredients to make magical concoctions that set my chocolate apart from the rest. Without my shop, I wouldn't have met your mother, and we wouldn't have you, my little cocoa bean. And I'll let you in on a little secret," Willy lowered his voice to a whisper at the end. "I was nervous when I found out about you."

"You were?" Ben pushed himself up on his elbows to look down at Willy's face.

"Mmhmm. You made me a papa, Bean. I had never been a father, nor did I have one growing up. I'm learning how to be one every day. It's been my grandest adventure yet."

Ben smiled, then fell onto his back once more to watch the clouds float by.

"Papa?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm glad you did it anyway. Got on the boat, I mean, even though you were scared."

"Me, too, Bean. Me, too." Willy sighed contentedly.

A few beats passed.

"Papa?"

"Can we go get ice cream?"

Willy chuckled. "Ice cream sounds like the best idea ever."

☆☆☆☆☆

-next day-

You, Charlotte, and Willy walked Ben to school. Ben was bouncy and talkative, asking questions about your memories of your own first day of classes. The boy grew quieter, though, as the building came into view. He shrank behind Willy's leg as more parents and children gathered at the fence, waiting for the school to open.

Willy offered him a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder, then dropped to one knee to make eye contact. "Don't be shy. It's alright if you feel a little trepidation."

"But do it anyway," Ben parroted from the conversation the day before.

Willy smiled and wrapped the boy in a hug, "That's right, Bean. Do it anyway."

Ben then gave you and Charlotte hugs and kisses, gathered his bag, and started toward the door. He stopped at the bottom step to turn back and wave at you all. Willy blew a kiss and waved as you grabbed Charlotte's chubby little hand to help her wave back. Tears came to your eyes when you saw Ben turn back to the door, pull his shoulders back and head up with confidence, and walk inside.

Still so small, yet so big, so fast, you thought to yourself. You looked to Willy as he wiped fat tears from his cheeks with his silk scarf. He barely maintained his composure until Ben was out of sight.

"I'm going to miss having him around during the day," Willy said with a sniffle.

"As will I, love. As will I," you replied softly.

Charlotte broke the melancholy with a coo. Willy chuckled and reached out to pluck her from her perch on your hip. "You, missy, aren't allowed to grow up that fast, understood?"

::raspberry::

"I'm glad we're in agreement."

☆☆☆☆☆

Masterlist

#wonka #willy wonka #willy wonka and the chocolate factory #wonka 2023 #timothée chalamet #wonka movie #timmy!wonka #willy wonka x reader #timothee chalamet x reader #timothée chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet fanfiction #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet x you #timothee fanfic #timothee!wonka #timothee x reader #wonka x reader #dad willy wonka #willy wonka x you #wonka x you #papa willy wonka #papa!wonka #papa wonka #dad wonka #established relationship #female reader #mom reader #drabble #tooth rotting fluff #fluff

[ratinayellowbandana]

Hound "baby boy" of Ill Omen for prompts!

first off, thank you for carrying this whole ship on your back. you are our strongest soldier and we appreciate you.

second, even more thanks for sending this my way! I hope this is something like what you had in mind!

if anyone else sees this and would like to toss a little prompt my way, feel free :)

wc: 934

cw: body horror…kind of? it’s just canonically what the good boy looks like

~~~

Imogen loves Laudna. She does. Quite a lot, in fact.

Because it is a fact. 

It may as well be written in stone. In the stars. Recorded on one of those dusty scrolls in elegant script and stuck on a shelf in some stuffy library for the next bored student who may happen across it and learn of two witches who saved the world.

Laudna, it must be noted, is a woman of many quirks. 

And Imogen, it must be noted, adores her for them. 

They are just as much a part of Laudna as the angle of her nose, the brightness in her eyes. As are her projects, macabre and scrounged as they often are, and so Imogen adores them, too. 

(If it takes her a moment to come around, Laudna must never know. Each new creation, presented to Imogen with all the glee of a child in a sweets shop, will only ever be met with enthusiasm. Laudna, she knows, has spent too long squirreling away the odd parts of herself. Imogen is determined to recover them.)

“Come here, darling,” Laudna calls, and the flesh-and-bone creature that scared the everloving fuck out of Imogen the first time he burst from his maker’s chest trots happily to her side, tongue lolling from a fleshless snout. 

The hound twines between Laudna’s legs, and she lifts her skirts to allow him through. He leans heavily against the inside of her knee, and Laudna beams. She bends at the waist to wrap the creature in spindly arms. His back arches, and Imogen can hear the vertebrae curving, clacking, as Laudna scratches behind his one intact ear. The ichor-tipped remnant of a tail begins to wag, shaking them both with the force of it.

He spots Imogen several paces away, and his green eyes glow, peering at her curiously.

Laudna has stopped her scritches, and the hound tilts his big head. Laudna looks up, meets Imogen’s fond gaze, and her lips split into a wide grin.

“Go on,” she pats the creature’s sides encouragingly, “say hello if you like.”

The hellhound bounds forward, released from his command. 

Imogen recalls the day he learned his tricks.

Laudna had found Imogen lounging beneath a copse of trees one afternoon, just as the sun was beginning to sink, casting the forest in dappled shades of orange and gold. The festering hound loped diligently at her heels. His paws colored the leaf-strewn ground iridescent black in their wake. 

“Look!” Laudna had said, chest puffed. She turned to her newest creation and pointed one finger. “You’ve been so obedient all afternoon. I’ll see about giving you something from my collection if your other mom approves of your skills. I should have a deer leg that will suit you nicely.” She contemplated for a moment. “Ready?” 

The hound stretched into a bow, muscle snapping over exposed bone, yawned, and shook. Drops of blood and ichor spattered the clearing, but Imogen hardly noticed, too caught up in Laudna’s casual statement. 

She had said it nonchalantly, as if she hadn’t just gifted Imogen something extraordinarily precious. As if Imogen’s senses hadn’t suddenly gone askew. As if she hadn’t just sent Imogen’s worldview slip-sliding into something new and dangerous and so welcome that it felt like a homecoming. Her mind spun until she was almost giddy with it. She wondered, then, how something said so simply could feel so significant. If Laudna understood what she had done. 

She had appointed Imogen the caretaker of a fragment of her soul. Of a creature that had been born of her, born from her. Crafted from the essence of her with whispered words and a desire to protect. 

“Imogen?” Laudna had said then, “Are you ready?”

And Imogen had glanced between Laudna and her hound, who sat on bleeding haunches and looked expectantly at his mother, and it was all she could do to swallow the creak in her throat.

“Let’s see what you can do.”

Now, as the hound nearly bowls her over, Imogen cannot find it within herself to be mad at him. Not even at the dark stains on her dress. They’ll come out with a prestidigitation or two. She knows from experience. 

She falls back in the grass and stares down twin emeralds. A broad tongue laps the side of her face, and she laughs, trying to dodge a cold, wet nose against her cheek. Her hands come up to cup the sides of his muzzle. 

“Hi, baby boy,” she coos. She rubs at his ears, and he presses harder into her palm, groaning loudly. She can feel the vibration in her chest.

Laudna scolds, “What have I said about knocking people over?” Her hands rest firmly on her hips. “Honestly, Imogen, you could at least discipline him. How will he learn?”

Imogen rolls her eyes, shrugs. “I’m the fun mom. He comes to me because he knows he can’t get away with anything when you’re around.”

Laudna huffs. “I’m sorry that I want our son to be civilized.” 

“Where’s the fun in that?” The hound flops to the ground, sprawling over Imogen’s outstretched legs, and she lets out an oomph of surprise. “Are you going to join us down here?” 

Laudna sighs and settles beside Imogen, resting her head on Imogen’s shoulder. She runs her hands over the creature’s exposed belly, avoiding the biggest of the perpetually oozing wounds. His jaw unhinges happily. His tail thumps a steady rhythm against her shin.

Imogen presses a kiss to the top of Laudna’s head, and Laudna relaxes into her.

A soft smile spreads across Imogen’s lips.

#this was written in an hour on the highway so please forgive any mistakes #I adore the baby boy #but for real many thanks for letting me take a stab at this #always honored to see you pop up in my notes :) #hope this works! #prompt fill #my fic #imodna #imodna fanfic #critical role #laudna #imogen temult #hound of ill omen #fic #cr3 #critical role fanfiction #ask #horse-immorality

[writingoddess1125]

You Get Buggy a Corgi

Cute Headcanon

Pure Fluff

◇ Bonus has some mild sadness

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• Buggy has always wanted a Corgi- He's never talked about it but you did see he has a Corgi shaped pillow in his room that he's apparently had since he was a child-

• So you decide to get him one as a gift for his birthday.

• He always had big birthday bashes and it was the biggest party imaginable- The whole crew with more alcohol and food then a gods banquet while Buggy sat in the center jovial and proud.

• You walk over with a box in hand and carefully set it down infront of him, He raises a brow at the lack of flashy decoration on the brown box and pops open the lid with a unamused expression

• There a little head pops up and everyone stares at the happy Corgi face looking st Buggy and the blue bow around its neck

• His whole face flushes as you can quite literally see the childlike joy shine in his eyes- A bright smile on his face as he sets the puppy in his lap.

• "Her name is Guppy" You say as he mumbles the name and glances up at you. "She's mine?"

• "Yep! She's fully trained and apparently does really well on ships from what the shelter said" You say softly, but you're sure he isn't even paying attention to you as the dog seems to instantly love Buggy and scales him with her little body to press her face against his. You can quite literally see his heart melt.

• Clearly Guppy is his favorite gift ever since he doesn't pay attention to anything else accept for Guppy the rest of the night.

• You also get a special reward for bringing a wonderful gift.

• Guppy is absolutely a velcro dog- Loving to be at Buggys side 24/7 and follow him around. He gets her a red bandana so she's easy to spot at all times. If there is anything dangerous he will leave her behind but be sad about it-

• Later finds out she yaps like crazy when he's not there and cries loudly.

• She sleeps on him constantly, sometimes waking him up since she will curl directly over his face suffocating him.

• 'Mrph!- 'Upeee!!" {Guppy!} And ge carefully scoots her on the pillow next to his head so he can breath and go back to sleep-

• Guppy acts as a sort of Therapy dog for Buggy as well- When his temper or anxiety get him worked up to were he would usually destroy his room she will instead lay on his chest and force him to stay still as he Pets her and works himself down from a rage.

• She is also the perfect pillow for him to cry on. So he has pressed his face gently into her fur and just cried- Often she licks the tears away.

• Doesnt wear as heavy of makeup since he knows she likes to lick his face and doesn't want the grease paint to make her sick-

• Will also carry her- Say if the waters are too choppy but she doesn't want to be left he will just carry her like a baby to make sure she doesn't slide around or get hurt.

• If anyone- and I mean ANYONE Dares to mess with his dog he will absolutely go ape-shit... Think insulting his nose is instant death- Hurt his dog and he will come up with the worse ways to kill a person slowly-

• He probably loves Guppy more then any living person and makes sure she has a wonderful healthy life.

Bonus!-

• "Hey Buggy can I ask?- Why do you like Corgi's so much?" You ask laying next to him on the floor of his cabin. He pauses for a moment as he thinks.

• "Lots of reasons- They are soft, sweet, overall really loving and they are a little odd which I like.. But-" He pauses for a second.

• "...It's kinda weird but.. my first memory in life was of a Corgi and my mother-" He admitted and you looked surprised by this, asking for him to explain which he rolled his eyes but agreed.

• "It was the day she dropped me off at the orphanage.. She handed me that corgi pillow you see on my bed and some berry she shoved in my pockets. Telling me that she had to leave me here to make sure I was safe from bad guys-" He said calmly, but you could hear the hurt in his tone.

• "But if I was every in a situation were it was truly life or death all I had to say with three words and I'd be okay. Then she kisses my forehead and left. It's my first and last memories of her- A few years later Roger's picking me up to be his apprentice" He admitted as Guppy lived his face clearly sensing some sadness.

• "Im... I'm so sorry-.. What were the three words?" You asked now circus, but you saw the way his eyes drifted to you briefly

• "Eh- That's a story for a different time" He said with a smile and waved it off. Watching how he pet Guppy some more.

• However you laid there stewing.. 3 words?

#x reader #one peice x reader #one piece #one peice live action #buggy one piece #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #one piece buggy #buggy the clown #buggy headcanons #buggy #op buggy

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

pulling out of the angst listening to "A Pirate Today" for the chaggie spear kid and tripping directly into them and vaggie being pirate nerds together while disney princess charlie SUFFERS

Billy: “Mom? How come mom has a super cool epic eyepatch, and no one else at the hotel does?”

Charlie: “Be-caaauuse she’s… missing an eye?”

Billy: “Oh! Why’s it missing?”

Charlie: “Uh.”

Billy: “Did someone TAKE it?”

Charlie: “Well-”

Billy: “Are we gonna get it back for her?”

Charlie: “That's a nice thought but I don’t think-”

Billy: “Was it glass, like a marble? Or was it REAL? Did it bleed?? Did someone cut it out of her head with a knife after she refused their dastardly orders and paid the price in her own flesh!? Is that how she met YOU and lost her heart as well!???”

Charlie: “…..”

Charlie: “You’ve been reading Vaggie’s pirate books again, haven’t you.”

Billy: “She says I’m too young to read ‘em.”

Charlie: “Uh-huh. Which one are you on?”

Billy: “The Curse of the Skeleton Crew and the Bedding of Bonnie Bodyripper’s Beautiful Bounty Huntress.”

Charlie: “And the WHAT OF THE WHAT NOW???”

Billy: “There’s a lot of boring parts I skip past… but the fights are AMAZING!”

Charlie: “…I.. think we should get you some of your own pirate books. CHILD APPROPRIATE pirate books.”

Billy: “’kay. But what about mom’s eye. Can we really not get it back for her?”

Charlie: “You’re really hung up on the eye thing tonight huh.”

Billy: “She bumped into a table again.”

Charlie: “Aww, kiddo- she’s done that so many times, she’ll be okay!”

Billy: “… I was the one who’d moved it. And didn’t put it back.”

Charlie: “That’s okay too. Everyone makes mistakes-”

Billy: “It was a pirate ship and she was picking up the old bottles uncle Husky let me use for secret messages, after aunty Angel Dust almost slipped on one in his heels. Mom dropped some when the table bumped her.”

Charlie: “Well sounds like someone forgot to sing their ‘clean up, clean up’ sea shanty song~” (grins)

Billy: (doesn't grin back)

Charlie: (droops) “Did you help her spiff up the ship?”

Billy: “I was TRYING to! I just wanted to hand her a bottle, only I was on the wrong side and she reached out too far and touched my hand and-”

Billy: “…”

Charlie: “…the flinching again?”

Billy: “The bottle broke when she dopped it, that time.”

Charlie: “It’s okay.” (hugs them) “You know it’s not about you, right?”

Billy: “Someone hurt her didn’t they.”

Charlie: “Mm." (hugs tighter) "Vaggie’s had a pretty, adventurous life, even before I met her and we started the whole hotel thing.”

Billy: “Did the person who hurt her look like me?”

Charlie: “Oh baby that’s not why-”

Billy: “So they did.”

Charlie: “NO. Not at all. They don’t have your big smile or silly laugh like you do.” (hugs them closer) “There’s no one anywhere who’s like you, and Vaggie doesn’t want you to be anyone else ever.”

Billy: "Were they a bad person?"

Charlie: "I don't do the whole bad-person good-person. They were. Not nice."

Billy: "Like a pirate?"

Charlie: "I think calling them that'd be an insult. To the pirates."

Billy: “….was mom a pirate with them?”

Charlie: “She… she’s more of a pirate now, kinda. One of the good ones.”

Billy: “Saying fuck it to dumb rules and laying it all on the line for her new captain and crew?”

Charlie: (wincing) “I need another talk with your ‘uncle Husky’. Also, Vaggie doesn’t have a captain.”

Billy: “But if the hotel’s her ship, and you founded it, then-”

Charlie: “-then we’re co-captains!”

Billy: “Mom. That’s not how ships work.”

Charlie: “It is on THIS one.”

Billy: “Her being your first mate makes more sense though!”

Charlie: “Noooope! Our ship, our rules. AND our rules still include bedtime!” (scoops them up)

Billy:  (grumbling) “There’s gonna be mutiny over this someday…”

Vaggie: (slipping out of the shadows) “Aye, but not until you’re old enough to yell about it not being a phase, apparently. Ye scallywag.”

Charlie: “I STILL can’t believe dad told you about that.”   

Billy: “Mom! I-” (shyly) “…sorry about the ship. And the, glass and the stuff.”

Vaggie: “More of a shipwreck, yeah? Don't worry.” (smiles) (holds up note) “The broken bottle had a message in it.”

Billy: “Oh that’s-!”

Vaggie: “It’s got SEKRET written on it, in something that’s probably not blood-”

Billy: “Aunt Niffty helped with that.”

Vaggie: “…written in something that’s probably just rat blood...”

Charlie: (groans) “Great. More ‘child appropriate environment’ talks.”

Billy: “Heheh.”

Vaggie: “Anyway, here.” (hands over note) “Pirates respect each other’s secrets.”

Billy: (gingerly taking it without touching her) “No they don’t? None of the ones in your books do.”

Vaggie: “My books- sweetie, which my books?”

Charlie: “Bonnie Bodyripper.”

Billy: “Curse of the Skeleton Crew!!!”

Vaggie: “Oh thank ff…eather dusters…. Not one of the wild ones then.”

Charlie: “THAT’S not a wild one!?”

Vaggie: (shrug) (at kid) “Did Bonnie Bodyripper read the bounty huntresses letter when she found it lying on the cabin floor while looking for her clothes?”

Billy: “No…”

Charlie: “LOOKING FOR HER WHAT.”

Billy: “She’d’ve seen the betrayal coming sooner and could’ve stopped it, if she had.”

Vaggie: “But she wanted to trust the huntress. You read the ending?”

Billy: “It’s the best part! The huntress swings in and saves her! They kill SO MANY guards together and blow up a SHIP and and and-”

Vaggie: “Yeah okay right, uhhhhh- the actual ending. On the last page.”

Billy: “Bonnie says she fell in love with a huntress who could hurt her and she was okay with that.”

Charlie: “Ehhh.”

Billy: “It’s like with the sea, mom. There were parts of the huntress maybe Bonnie’d never find out about, and she was okay with that too! Because the parts she did know were something the huntress had shared with her.”

Charlie: “Aww, that’s…”

Billy: “And then they wrestle.”

Charlie: “…still not something you should be reading yet, yep.”

Billy: “What’s boring wrestling have to do with anything?”

Vaggie: “Forget the wrestling. Point is, people hurt each other sometimes, sweetie." (tickles them with a wing) "What matters it what they do after.”

Billy: “Heh!" (wiggles) (grins) "Did the person who took your eye say sorry afterwards?”

Vaggie: “….”

Vaggie: “No.”

Billy: “Okay.” (thinks for a moment) “So I’m not like them.”

Charlie: “MUCH cuter.”

Vaggie: “You… are stalling, you sea rat.”

Billy: “No ‘m not!”

Vaggie: “Bellow decks and into bed with you.”

Billy: “Where’d you get the eyepatch??”

Charlie: “That’s a story for tomorrow, kiddo! Bedtime is crucial to a child’s development!”  

Billy: “I’m enveloped I’m enveloped! Pleeease just five more minutes-!”

Vaggie: “Nuh-uh, you heard your mom. Captain’s orders.”

Charlie: “Don’t you start.”

Vaggie: “Babe, it really doesn’t make sense for there to be two captains at one time.”

Billy: “HA!”

Charlie: “What does it even matter anyway? We’re running a hotel, not an actual ship-”

Vaggie: “And I’m the hotel manager, which makes me your first mate.”

Billy: “See mom? TOLD you!”

Charlie: “But you’d look good in that fancy captain’s outfit!”

Billy: “Oh so that’s why you stare at mom’s book covers before confiscating them..”

Vaggie: “Charlie, it’s not about who looks good in it- It’s about division of duties onboard and proper crew management-”

Billy: “Tell her!”  

Charlie: “This is a hotel!”

Vaggie: “Guest management. Whatever.”

Charlie: “You just like that I’D be the one in the long coat and ruffles!”

Vaggie: “It’s a perk. But that’s not the point.”

Charlie: “This whole thing doesn’t have any point to it and if I’m captain then I can just promote you to captain too so HA!”

Vaggie: “Pirate captains are elected, babe.”

Billy: “They’re elected, mom.”

Vaggie: “It’s a popular vote thing.”

Billy: “I think maybe YOU need to read the books too, instead of just going gooey eyed over the covers.”

Charlie: “I’m starting to think no one in this family should be reading them…”

Vaggie: “Fine. Let’s vote on it.”

Charlie: “Oh come on!”

Billy: “All in favor of being historically accurate hotel pirates say aye!”

Vaggie: “Aye.”

Billy: “Aye!”

Charlie: “ARGH!”

Billy: “Out voted~”

Vaggie: (pats charlie’s shoulder) “Good job getting into the spirit of things though.”

Billy: “Pirates didn’t really go ‘Arrg’ did they?”

Charlie: “Well THIS one sure does.” (leads the way to bedtime) “What’s the point of being captain anyway if you don’t win any arguments?”

Vaggie: “We’ll let you win the next one. Pirate’s oath.”

Charlie: (sighing) “Argh…”

Billy: “You mean. We’ll let her win the next, the-” (giggles) “-the next ARGHument, right?”

Vaggie: (groans)

Charlie: “…okay.” (cracks smile) “THAT'S worth being a pirate for.”

#hazbin hotel #chaggie #chaggie spear child au thing #charlie morningstar #vaggie #oc kid #silly family time #light angst #realized during this that i gotta for myself call this kid “billy” #bc of the #being charlie's kid and the #billy goat thing

[penvisions]

of beskar and kyber {chapter 17}

Pairing: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive! Reader (the Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader)

Summary: Din Djarin is not a remorseful man. Everything he's done, he's done for a reason. But he finds himself in an internal struggle as he tears through the galaxy for traces of you.

Word Count: 10.3k

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical fighting, use of narcotics, use of drugs, reader gets drugged, reader gets kidnapped, reader gets tied up, kidnapping, controlling parent, toxic parent / child relationship, toxic parent / child dynamic, din has a lot of feelings, din reflects on his time spent with reader, death, minor character death, infectious thoughts, negative feelings, feelings of inadequacy, issues with intimacy, religious guilt, feelings of religious obligation, religious contemplation, so much guilt for our tin man, violence, derogative language, insinuations of sexual favors, a few instances of shouting, din loses his hold on reality (1) time, references to past instances of self-harm, references to past instances of suicidal ideations, let me know if i missed anything please!

A/N: an all din pov chapter, baby! who's ready for ten thousand words on how this man feels? this was a fun different way to approach the story and i rather liked it even if i am afraid to post it. there are so many different interpretations of din that are all so great, and while this is my personal one for the character in my fic, i'm still worried about how it'll be received

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

“Mother, please.” You begged, voice absolutely wrecked. Desperation settled in your gut, making you dizzy and nauseous. The illness of it was debilitating even through the hum of drugs waning in your system. Sobs were wracking your body, exploding from your ribcage in painful bursts. You struggled against the cuffs on your wrists, the cuffs around your ankles, rotating them in hopes of finding weakness but they were strong. But they were made of beskar, strong and programmed to shock you should you jostle them too much. Using the culture of the very people who had meant salvation now for damnation. She had made sure they would hold you this time.

She just sat there, watching you from the chair by the door. Long hair pulled up into a knot atop her head, blue tunic and black trousers flowing and clean. Her hands clasped in front of her, resting her chin against them as her eyes took in the slump of your form across the small room. You were on the ground, legs numb from the hard, unforgiving stone underneath you. Boots removed and down to nothing but your simple clothing. She had taken the pendant from you, the one Din had gifted you in the wake of your confession to losing the one from Akiz. It glinted over her own chest, visible where she allowed it to drape over the front of her collar.

“Please. I don’t want to be here. I want to go back to the ship. I want to go home.”

“Oh no, my darling, you won’t be going anywhere near that disgusting ship again. That Mandalorian has caused enough damage, stealing you away after taking your fob. I still had to pay the Guild fee for your bounty. Credits you know we didn’t have in the first place.” She paused, her hands clasped together, elbows on her knees, and she leaned forward to rest her hand atop them. A wicked smile overtook her as she eyed you across the room.

“Luckily, I found someone who was willing to cover the cost and offer to take you as their wife. They’ve put a lot of energy and credits into helping locate you. They will be here in two days’ time to collect you.”

She looked almost mournful at the idea of you leaving so soon after reuniting. Of sharing you with another after claiming to do everything she had ever done to you out of protection.

“But he swore to protect you from any threats, from the Mandalorians that seem to be obsessed with owning you, harnessing your power to help them crawl from the cracks of the universe they ran to hide in when their planet was destroyed. This man, he’s from a very important royal line that is deeply rooted in the New Republic.”

“The New Republic is a joke, they can’t even keep their own soldiers happy, let alone protect anyone.”

“Hush now, darling.” She got up and the black tin she kept in her pocket flashed in her hand. You began thrashing even more so, tears cascading down your cheeks as she approached you. The click of the tin opening sent you back to every other time you had heard that sound in your life, eyes going wide and your breath left you as if you had been hit square in the chest. “The time will fly by with this dose and then we’ll be off to our new home.”

He’d been searching the city for days.

Despite the thrumming of pain through his head, his vision blurring, and the helmet resting too heavy on the now soft, new skin that was his injury. Tender fingers carefully spraying bacta and skin itching as the tissue tried to heal with its aid. He wished for your smaller hands to be the one caring for him, but he was alone. Alone with a fussing child that was beginning to use his powers to get his feelings across since he was still learning how to talk and use his little voice.

Not taking any time to rest, instincts telling him something was wrong, that something had happened. You wouldn’t just run off, even with what had occurred. At least…not for this long. He hoped. He…hoped.

Stalking through the various casinos and cantina’s, searching for any traces of you to be found. Even in the hectic atmospheres of the racetracks and brothels, of seedier bars and establishments you may have ducked into or been taken to by the force of whoever had stolen you away. Snatched you from whatever you had sought out to calm yourself.

He sat in front of the tracking fob given to him when he first took the job to return you to your mother for hours. Set it atop the control panels in the cockpit, helmet removed and head in his hands as he contemplated turning the device back on. He had scoured the hotels and seedier hostels with it in his grip, to no avail.

It was as if you had simply vanished.

Your smiles and laughter, soft sighs and teasing quips a figment of his imagination.

Made up in the loneliness that accompanied the type of life he led. Missions, jobs, hunting, tracking, trading in criminals and runaways for next to nothing, refueling the ship and hitting the ground running again, taking to the air and space again. And again, and again. He didn’t realize how tired and monotonous it had all become, despite the thrill of his skills proofing to be elite time and time again. He didn’t realize how much he had been missing out on until you threw it all off track. Deliver the goods and credits to the covert, ensure they were safe and protected, collect another job, hunt, track, kill, injure, collect. Broke the routine he had been so accustomed to with an utterance of his dying language.  Rolling off your tongue with precision.

It had been striking. You had been striking and he had torn you down in a way he never wanted to, unintentionally with a fumbling lack of words. It was maddening, to search for days to find no trace of you anywhere.

There was no indication you ever existed aside from those left behind on his ship. The mug of caf sweetened with sugar and powdered milk at the table, the pack of your cigarras you always insisted on smoking outside while it was docked, the crate with your tools and materials used to make armor, the neat and organized labels you had applied to everything within the panels. The room he had set up for you….though you often split your time between his own and the hammock still hung up in the hold space.

He had left it all untouched, too afraid to erase the pieces of evidence that you were real. That you had been aboard his ship. That you had been trying to connect with him and he stumbled over his words so badly he made you feel unwanted on such a level that made you run.

Like the acts between you two had just been him seeking out pleasure with no real intent other than that behind them. The thought that you must’ve felt like he was just like every other person who had ever used you made his stomach turn and bile burn in his throat. Only his ploys had been steeped in honey and saccharine promises. He had frozen, the words he wanted to whisper to you lost in the panic of the moment, of wanting exactly what you were asking for. It had all been so overwhelming. It had been so real, felt so real, and it had been a jarring realization.

That he had wanted to remove his helmet and give into your request.

Despite the Creed he swore his life to. Despite the commitment he had made to you that would allow for him to do so in time.

But now it was too little too late.

After the third day, he was beginning to think you weren’t merely taking some time to yourself…

Maybe he was foolish to think he hadn’t messed up so monumentally that you had found a way off world and run even further from him. But he knew you weren’t the type of person to do that. To him, to ad’ika.

Burc’ya. Friend.

Ner kar’ta. My heart.

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum. I love you.

Vencuyot riduur. Future husband.

You wouldn’t have run from him to that degree, loyal and devoted. Loving and caring, kind hearted at the very core of who you were. Even despite the tragedies and ill-natured things you had been subjected to in your life. Good. Too good, for someone like him.

He was beginning to think something had happened.

But without the aid of your communication, vambraces still set atop the makeshift table along with your main bag and armor, he had no way of knowing for sure. Just the niggling feeling in his gut that was burrowing deeper by the second.

He sent a transmission to Karga, asking if there was any news of your arrest before deeming the planet a lost cause and raising the ramp. He took the Crest up up up and into the air, helmet scouring the shrinking planet all the while, feeling an ache in his heart that he didn’t think he would ever get used to.

He had to push through, he had to focus. You needed someone to help you, wherever you had gone or been taken. You needed him to find you. He needed to find you.

Ad’ika had been in a constant flux from eerily silent to wailing as loud as his little lungs would allow, wide eyes brimming with tears the longer you were gone. Din had taken to wrapping the child up in the cloak he had bought you, securing it with the metallic flower latches and laying him down in the cot alongside him. Never sleeping, only laying down intermittently to pass the time. Rest evading him as his mind began to think of the things that could’ve happened to you.

Tatooine was his first stop, no response from Karga when he docked and secured the ship in Pelli’s hangar. Much to his disappointment, the travel through hyperspace hadn’t been too long, so a response was wishful thinking on his part. Spurred on by the endless possibilities of what happened consuming him.

He was silent as he handed her the credits from your bag, loathing that he needed to use them as he lacked his own. Even now, gone from him and hurt, you were still offering him help. Providing for him the way he should be for you, the way that he wanted to. The reality of having asked you to travel with him weighing heavily on his mind. Once ad’ika is settled with those who could train him, Din would need to take up working with the Guild full time again to provide for the covert. A life steeped in danger and endless threats, a life you already had far too much experience with. Perhaps…perhaps he could secure a tract of land somewhere, a place to return to after jobs. A nice cabin surrounded by trees and an endless supply of anything you may need. Or perhaps a shop front on Nevarro, for you to sell you wares. He would take extra jobs to provide that for you, work his hands to the bone and until he could barely move for how exhausted he was.

Because you deserved it. You deserved to be happy and he was beginning to think that may not be with him. Not if he was constantly away or you were left on the ship for days, weeks, months at a time while he tracked down his quarries. Constantly traveling through space and left to handle the ship alone.

Would…would you even want that type of life?

Wouldn’t it be another type of imprisonment, no reward but a tired and aching man in the bed beside you only a handful of nights? Half of him given to you, half devoted to his Creed.

I’d rather be dead than be someone’s captive again. Even if it’s as one to you, jatne vod.

Thoughts consuming him, there was no argument from him as he left ad’ika with her to look through the city.

The lack of your figure emerging from the ship didn’t prompt any questions from her, though he could sense them on the tip of her tongue and the front of her mind.

He set out, looking for the woman who you made friends with the last time he had landed the Crest on the sandy planet.

He found her, in the middle of a scuffle in the marketplace over a stolen loaf of bread. A child whose stomach was caved in and bruises over their arms visible when the sleeves of their tunic rose up. The vendor wanted the child to be taken in, punished for the attempted theft. But he could see how conflicted Sioban was with following that heated demand.

Diffusing the situation, seeing the form he had first encountered you in mirrored in the small child, he stepped forward and offered a handful of credits to the vendor.

“To cover the bread for the child, two loaves and that chunk of cured meat.”

“Sir, this has nothing to do with you. You don’t need to put yourself out for that ungrateful litte-“

“Take it.” Din’s head throbbed, exhausted and anxious, just trying to do something good. Something you would do. They were your credits, and he wanted to do this. At the fixed stare of his visor, the vendor released the child from her tight grip, nearly throwing the small frame to the ground as she did. Roughly, she gathered the loaf that had started the whole ordeal, a second one, and the wrapped meat. Holding it out for him to take.

Sioban ushered everyone who had stopped in their tracks to go about their business. Once the small crowd cleared and attention was diverted, Din turned to the child and crouched down.

“Here, for you.” He kept his voice a hush, not wanting the modulator to manipulate his voice into a threatening or menacing tone it tended to do, taking the emotion from his words more often than not.

“T-thank you, sir.”

“Now go and stay out of trouble.”

An enthusiastic nod and they were running off, disappearing down the street.

“Well, well, well. Mando is a softie afterall.” Sioban’s voice lightly teased. “Where’s Sarad and the baby? Or is this a solo trip this time around?”

“I would like to speak with you, if you have the time.”

“Something happened.” The woman’s features hardened, a slant to her brow as her eyes looked him over before settling on the visor. She didn’t look or feel like a threat, something proven further by your willingness to share a table with the woman. But Din was fighting his instincts, the ones telling him to chase chase chase, even with no actual leads as to where you had gone. And this woman might hold some clues or at least be able to offer Din a higher chance if he had someone on the ground of the planet you had run to once already.

“Yes.”

The conversation with Sioban hadn’t yielded any answers. If anything, it solidified that Din had absolutely no idea what to do. With no other leads, he fell back on his tracking tactics, searching for your last place of known residence.

Once back to the ship, he silently takes ad’ika from Pelli. Not responding to the looks or faint questioning he knew was on the woman’s mind. A nod, a formal shaking of the woman’s hand and he was guiding the Crest back into the air to comb over the planet as best he could. You had said you thought you were here when he took you from that compound, a home you had hidden away on this world after running from your mother years ago.

It took him nearly a week’s worth of days of flying low to the land before he caught sight of a structure.

Mind working overdrive as he strained his eyes through the visor with aided mechanics for any sign of life amid the vast stretch of the desert landscape. Sectors outlined and crossed out when they didn’t yield anything. Errant skeletons of a bantha, the Jawa’s traveling across the land, and Tusken settlements the only markers of time passing and the ship moving moderately along.

And then, suddenly.

There were two tall spires beside a moderate looking abode. Moisture farming equipment, the same you had told him about replacing shortly before your capture. Was all he had to go off of, a small conversation that you hadn’t expanded on in your time with him.

The structure was like most far out into the desert, mostly underground with a rounded and smooth stone roof, a door with a protected entrance to prevent sand from building up right up against it. It was modest, big enough for one person to have plenty of room. Abandoned, by his guess, the stone of the building chipped in places from sand and the spare storm weathering it down.

It had to be yours, it had to be, please let it be yours were his thoughts as he broke the lock still activated, ensuring the structure was protected even out in the middle of nowhere. Mos Eisley was an entire day’s travel away. Even more so in any other direction to another of the planets handful of moderate settlements. A good place to hide. Visibility on your side. A lonely place to hide.

I’ve always loved the forest.

The memory how your tired and injured features had lit up at the sight of Sorgan visible through the glass of the cockpit, the breathy gasp that had fallen from your lips sprung to his mind. You had been so calm, despite the precarious circumstances, stealing away moments to brush your bare fingers along the leaves reaching out from low branches.

You must’ve been miserable here. The land so dry and empty, the closest mountain ridges barely visible on the horizon. Even those were spotty with tangled roots that held little to no greenery. Sentencing yourself to the wasteland to live out your life in fear and comfortability, hoping the environment you weren’t fond of would throw those searching for you off your trail.

Glancing behind him, Din watched as ad’ika slowly made his way down the ramp. Little sounds falling from his lips as he took in the sight of his guardian in front of a new place he didn’t recognize. Raising his hands as he got to the bottom of it, Din retreated to it and lifted up the small child, holding him tight in the crook of his elbow as he descended down the few steps and through the open door.

It was dark inside, no lights on or power source even charged, no doubt. But definitely abandoned. Sparingly decorated, though he could feel that it was once your space. The kitchen equipped with a fancy caf maker, ample kitchen wares, potted plants and herbs that had long died and dried in the sunlight coming in through the windows. There was an impressively organized wall of shelving right above a desk in the large main room, presumably where you would work on crafting armor. The only way to support yourself in such an environment. Most likely making trips into town in order to sell or trade.

There were three interior doors at the back of the structure. A heavy duty one off to the side of the kitchen. That one contained a greenhouse set up, or as close to one as you could imitate underground and on so hot a planet. There was a large panel of controls beside the door on the inside, telling Din of the way you controlled the pressure and moisture of the room One to a storage room, more evidence of your time spent here. Full of large bins and crates, evidence of grains and dried food. Of the pieces of armor you lovingly and intricately crafted.

One to a fresher, the last to what was once your bedroom.

Underneath the bed is where he found it, with the aid of his helmet. The massive rug that took up most of the bedroom floor hiding it in plain sight. The trap door exposed when he moved the bed and folded the rug up.

It wasn’t secured with anything that he could see, even with the aid of his helmet. It looked just like score marks dug into the stone ground. And he recalled the way you could effortlessly wield the Force, the power you shared with the child. Perhaps you hadn’t wanted a way for anyone else to access what lay hidden beneath, using it to manipulate the hideaway you felt you needed even this deep in the desert alone. Forever paranoid and fearful of being tracked down and found out.

Sighing, Din tried to think of a way to break the barrier, knowing he needed to search the entire home.

“Ad’ika,” He called, turning to see the child had situated himself on the couch in the main room. Eyes wide as he toyed with a broken collar. He wondered if it had belonged to a creature you had cared for, run away or long since passed now. “Ad’ika, can you help me?”

Leaning down to pick up the occupied child, Din pointed a gloved finger to the marks in the stone ground.

“Ad’ika, see these lines?” A gurgle of acknowledgement, the tilting of his head. “There’s a door here, that leads underground. Mesh’la put it there, do you think you can open it?”

Din set him down in front of it, crouching down to hold his hand out in front of them both and mimic the way you would twist your hand in concentration to harness your powers.

“Just like Mesh’la, like how you take the handle from the lever in the control room?”

Wide eyes looked up at him, curiosity in them at the man’s words.

If this didn’t work…he could always resort to using the charges fastened to his belt. Force a way through the entrance, but he didn’t want to damage the space or the room below.

But the crackling of stone was sharp as it sounded in the air. The child’s small face scrunched up in concentration, his eyes clenched shut as he harnessed his powers. Quiet grunts falling from his mouth as he struggled to move the stone.

But it was working. It was opening, the telltale sounds of stone grinding on stone as the thick slab that acted as an entrance was pried open.

“Good job, ad’ika! It’s working!” He couldn’t contain the pride in his voice nor the rapid beating of his heart. Positive that any answers he was in search of would dwell below. He moved forward to help lift the heavy slab, shoving it along the floor and revealing a dark space into the lower level of the house.

Turning on the flashlight of his helmet, Din descended into the bowels of your hideaway. Dust enveloped him as he waved at ad’ika to stay put on the higher level until he cleared the space.

It was a large room, the same size as the whole top floor of the structure. Though it was only two rooms, a living room and a bedroom with a second fresher. The living room held floor to ceiling bookcases, filled to the brim with physical books. A holo net in front of the couch, signs that you spent just as much time down here as you did in the rest of the structure if not more.  He hated the realization that you felt the need to hide away even this far out in the desert, this far out in the galaxy. Forever paranoid and holding the fear that you would be tracked down. And he had been a part of that fear, he had been one of the many who had sought you out.

The crate in the bedroom caught his eye, beckoning him forward. Not only because of the hefty locks sealing it shut but because there was energy around it that made the tips of his fingers tingle. Much like his blood when he felt your body pressed up to his own, the sacrament of your trust in him personified.

Walking toward it, the small baby curls of his recently trimmed hair prickled on the back of his neck.

Snapping the thick locks, he kneeled on the ground in front of it and slowly lifted the lid.

His breath left him as the visor set into a midnight blue, almost black Mandalorian helmet peered back up at him. It was in pristine condition, as if it had merely been taken off for the man who he suspected wore it to partake in a quick meal and not the reality that it had been stored here for who knows how many years untouched. He hadn’t asked if you had kept it, after the man’s death, but he was felt the question bubble on his tongue more than once. But the answer was sitting obvious and blaring right in front of him.

Lifting it revealed the very same pendant he had gifted to you, attached to a thinly crafted beskar chain.

The one you had said you intended to show him in order to garner his help, to let him know of your connection to his way of life. Lost in the scuffle of being taken off guard and whisked away, but it was here, awaiting your return. He wondered why you hadn’t worn it that day, the day that set your paths up to cross. With slow movements, he began to remove the cowl about his neck, laying it down beside him.

With a held breath, he reached for the pendant and fastened it around his neck, tucking it beneath his shirt and layers of protective ware fronted by his cuirass. The cowl going back in place.

Beside the helmet…beside it was a neatly arranged line of metal hilts similar to the one you carried with you at all times. Similar to the one you had tried to buy your freedom from him with when first meeting.

Similar but not identical.

There were four of them. Lightsabers, you had told him they were called. That he now knew were an integral part of the creed you had been trained in. But the fact remained that he didn’t know the why of how many you had in your possession.

You had said each person similar in skill and training crafted their own, each unique and personal to an individual much like the helmets and armor Mandalorian’s adorned. Carefully picking one up, tingling traveling further up his arms and settling down his back, he tilted it to see that it did indeed house a crystal like your own. Each one had a different hue.

He decided to stay in the place that you once called home that night, locking up the ship after checking to see if he had received word from Karga. But when there were transmissions waiting to be heard, he secured the ship. His head hurting and his mind overwhelmed at finding pieces of you, proof that you existed outside of his memories.

Settling into the bed, he knew it was a lost cause as he tried to feel close to you. Reality reminding him you hadn’t slept in either of the cots aboard the ship in nearly two weeks now, years for the bed he now lay atop, cover bunched underneath his arms as he curled on his side and regarded the journal you left behind in your haste to run. Ad’ika resting atop the pillow beside his own, wrapped in your cloak as if it was the softest blanket in the universe. The child trying to feel close to you as well, missing you and growing more concerned each day.

Sleep evaded him, your voice loud in his head, the way you had sounded so devoid of emotion when he had failed to communicate with you. Tipping into different memories, the most prominent of the events back on Nevarro.

It rang in his ears, over and over, layering itself until it was a buzz he couldn’t rid himself of.

Ner kar’ta.

The desperation in your voice, the tears in your eyes, the way your hands shook as they reached out for him, how gentle they were when they cradled his helmet. The soft press of your forehead to his chest, to his helmet, to his hands grasped in your own as he lay bloodied and injured, barely conscious and so tired. So ready for death after a life that had only allowed him a glimpse of you. To ensure you could escape and continue to live, to be safe.

You had told him, as well as you could, what you meant to him.

Had shown him, with trusting him to press his skin to yours, body tangled with his own. Nervous giggles sounding into the air and seizing his heart as he wanted for more of them. Of the breathy sighs and sounds that fell from your lips as you let him caress your skin, the soft give of your chest, the plush give of your thighs, the velvet smooth apex between them.

Trusted him with the most intimate parts of you, parts of human connection. Even in the face of all that you had endured.

And then you has whispered it, half asleep and safe underneath him.

I love you. Future husband.

And he shattered it. With a foolish blunder of words he hadn’t been able to reign in, to explain himself and his own desires in a more coherent way. That he wanted you just as you wanted him.

Jatne vod.

Contradicted with the emotion bleeding from your expressive eyes, the firm line of your lips as you closed your mouth, resigned to a notion that you gathered from his stupid, ill thought-out words. From his lack of words. The way your hands shook for an entirely different reason, the way you shrunk into yourself, away from him.

And then you had been gone.

And it hurt.

He left ad’ika in the room, fast asleep atop the pillows.

Removing his helmet and hanging his head in his hands, he settled on the couch. For the first time in a long time, the Mandalorian known for being so ruthless, for being so focused and emotionless behind his helmet, cried.  

“Mando, I’ve received word. But it is best relayed in person. I will be awaiting your arrival.”

Ad’ika was not having a good day, he didn’t want to leave the house he could feel your presence in. He had already wailed and shook his tiny fists as Din tried to pick up him. Causing the migraine addled man to lose his grip at the sharp pierce of his cries to his head. That had only resulted in the thump of ad’ika’s bottom on the stone floor and more crying.

Din already felt bad enough, but he felt like the worst guardian in the galaxy for dropping his foundling, for not being able to manage his own pain and discomfort to care for another’s. A pang of fear floods him, igniting his instincts in a way it rarely did. And he froze in his crouched position, having been about to scoop ad’ika up.

The child must’ve shared in his foreboding, a shriek sprouting from him and causing Din to cradle his head as best he could with the helmet, knees kissing the floor harshly as he fell to them.

Something was wrong. Low in his gut, unease bubbled and stuck to his insides.

He felt like he was going to be sick, his head throbbing, pain prickling from the healing scar at the back.

And then his body felt numb, like all sense of command was not his to control and his vision blacked out.

Nevarro loomed in the distance, approaching fast. The ship rattled at the harsh landing, Din’s steps hard and fast as he disembarked, the ramp closing behind him as he crossed the new archway that had been erected in the time he had been away. Months had gone by, one with you and one without. Having to spend another week resting in the place you once called home. He had fallen ill, though of what he didn’t have an answer. Only that his head felt like he had been electrocuted and his limbs had been hard to control. Adi’ka too, had been lethargic, crying out long into the night every time the suns had set and darkness took over the planet. The search for you stretching far too long, anxiety thrumming over his skin.

Karga was in the reconstructed city hall, reading over something laid out on the table when the door boomed open, revealing the determined figure of Din, a secretary behind him frantically trying to warn the man in charge of his arrival.

“Where?”

“Sir, please, you need to check in-“

“It’s alright, he’s got clearance.” With a nod the woman was closing the door behind her, knowing it was serious if all protocol was being ignored.

Din repeated his question, forgoing a formal greeting.

“Well, I wish these were better circumstances.” The man stood up, coming around the table and leaned against it, his arms crossed over his chest as he took in the still form of Din across the room. The wide eyes of the child peeking out from the bag at his hip, small hands allowing him to climb from within it and jump from the moderate height. He cooed, walking the distance to Karga and lifting his hands toward the man.

“I’m still trying to get intel on that. But I do know that it was her mother, who struck a deal with someone of the Guild. He…was here still when we took back the city. He had taken the transaction separate from the Guild, not wanting word of it to get back to me. To you.” He relayed the information as he bent down to pick up the small being.

“I’ve got him locked up, but he’s not speaking.”

“He will.”

“Mando-“

He was gone in a blink, stalking out the door and toward the prison cells kept on the lowest floor of the building.

The stone steps opened up to a line of cells on both sides of the long room, Din stopped in front of the only occupied one. Body buzzing with anger that the inhabitant had not only hunted you down and captured you but did so on the orders of someone who’s voice triggered you through a transmission. He couldn’t begin to imagine the visceral reaction you’d have upon seeing her for the first time in years, having entertained the thought of killing yourself in order to not have to deal with her again.

And he feared, heat catching in his throat as he felt the prickle of tears.

I’d rather be dead than be shackled for one more second of my life!

You…you wouldn’t, right? Now that you had him to return to, someone to rescue you from being stolen away from the life you had carved out for yourself. It had been so long since you had been taken, days, weeks, and entire month. And he still had no clue as to where you had been crated off to. It would be more days, more weeks, maybe another month before he could figure it out. Did you already seize an unknown opportunity, try to escape? Or had you given up, too loaded up with whatever drugs your mother and intended pumped into your system to make you compliant? Would you have taken the endless out of harming yourself, seeing it as the only option as he failed to come to your aid thus far?

Would you be able to sense the desperation and endless efforts he was putting forth to find you? That he was trying, despite the way he was still healing, despite the sense of dread that he would be too late?

Would you be able to sense his worry and fear over you having to deal with something you never wished for? A forced reunion with your mother, back in her clutches and control. A forced marriage to a man you didn’t know, the obligations that came along with that notion…the very same acts that had caused you to turn to self-harm in the past, the scars of which were displayed on the skin of your thighs, the same ones that he had run his fingers over not too long ago…

A man bound in cuffs was slumped against the floor, back leaning on the wall behind him. He appeared to be alive, though if his answers didn’t aid Din in his search for you he wouldn’t be for long. Giving into the urge to startle the unaware man, Din banged a fist on the bars of the cell. Jerking awake, the man’s eyes flew open and his chest heaved.

The second he recognized the armor, his eyes narrowed and he frowned.

“It was just a job, nothing personal, Mando.”

“Is that why you went out of your way to hide it from the Guild records?”

“You’re too self-righteous, knew you’d come after me for hunting the girl.”

The snapping of metal was loud, sickening as Din’s shoulders forced the control panel to bend and spark.

The whine of the door swinging open deafening as the man pressed himself back into the wall, trying to get up on his feet. But he was too slow, Din’s hands hauling the man up by the front of his jumpsuit and slamming him into the wall. A crack sounded as the back of the man’s head connected with the stone of the wall. A wail punched from his chest as he lost the air in his lungs.

“It’s too late, her mother married her off to some high lord. She’s probably already knocked up with his heir by now. Living a cush life in some nice palace far away from here.” He spoke unprompted by a direct question. Knowing that it was useless to try and lie to the Mandalorian.

The mere thought of someone touching you had anger swirling in his chest and stomach, igniting him in a dangerous way. You didn’t like people touching you, you didn’t like anyone who wasn’t him touching you in any way let alone intimately. His voice was low when he breathed out his next question, an edge to it that commanded the truth.

“Where?”

“Don’t know, I told her mother you were probably going to find out, track me down and kill me for the information. Don’t know why.” The man flipped the stray hairs flopping over his forehead away, teeth clenching as he recalled the way you had slammed him harshly into the side of the alley.  “The bitch has a pretty face, sure, but she was a handful. Took a lot to take her out, but once I did, she begged so sweet for me to let her go.”

“Drugging someone isn’t something to boast about, it’s a last-ditch effort for those who don’t have the skill for the job.” Din’s words were a guttural sound, echoing across the floor. Blood dripped from the man’s nose, a vambrace knocked into it the longer the man talked. He didn’t know anything, but that wouldn’t stop Din from beating what he could out of the man.

“So what? It took her down and that’s what mattered. I saw her take down those Storm Troopers that overran the city, there was no way I was going to be able to without the hint from her mother. You’ll find another body to warm your bed. No need to fret over-“

Din’s hand was around the man’s throat in a flash, knuckles popping with the force. An ugly gurgle deep in his chest, body desperate for air, but he would never take another breath again. Windpipe crushing under his palm, Din took some comfort in the final, choked sound the man made before his body went limp.

Before it could even crumple to the ground, Din was walking out of the room and going straight toward the stairs.  

“Mando, I sent communication to Cara, she’s-“

“I’ve got what I need.” Din was careful as he lifted the child from atop the desk where Karga had set him with a snack. Exchanging adoring coos with the tired little being. Making sure to offer the rest of the pack of dried fruit to the claws reaching out for it, a whine falling from his mouth at the idea of leaving it behind.

“Not so fast-“

“I don’t have time. I need to find her.” Din snapped, fists clenching and ad’ika ducking down into the bag at the boom of his voice. “She’s been sold like a slave by her mother.”

“I’m going with you,” Cara was firm in her decision, not wanting to take any chances of your distance becoming permanent. Of it leading to the demise of the person who you had begun to develop into that she had glimpsed.

“No, I have to handle this myself. I was the one who failed to protect her.” He moved to continue through the room, toward the door. But Cara was suddenly in front of him, her arms crossed over her chest and her lips a firm line.

“Mando, you’re gonna need help. And she’s important to me too.”

It was a quiet trek back to the entrance of the city, more ships having landed around his own. He was about to engage the ramp when two of the attending guards approached him. But they spoke with Cara at the sharp gaze of the visor on them. Another ship was offered for them to use, curtesy of the city and of Karga. Something a little smaller, a little faster, nondescript and wouldn’t give away the presence of an enraged and desperate Mandalorian searching for his partner.

When the argument for a different ship didn’t take, Karga approached through the archway.

Cara was hesitant to point out that the ship was as obvious as Din’s armor. A sign to tip off those keeping an eye out for threats. She had been quiet, sitting in the office with the magistrate and the child while the body of the now deceased Guild member who had hunted you down was taken care of. Waiting for Din to emerge from the containment level. But now she stood beside him, urging him to see the benefits to changing ships, just for the time being.

“Do we risk docking the ship in a hangar?”

“Yes, we lie about the model.” Din insisted, not wanting to leave the Crest behind.

“What if someone knows?”

“It’s an old ship, pre-Empire, no one will know.”

“They’ll run it through the system.” Karga spoke up, wanting to be a voice of reason for his friend determined to rush, to not take a beat and think things through. “Mando, you owe it to her to be as stealthy as possible. If they know you’re coming, once you track down where, they may hurt her. Take it out on her.”

Din closed his eyes, hand coming to the front of his helmet and over the visor. He didn’t want to part ways with his ship, even temporarily. It would mean he wasn’t surrounded by the things you left behind, the proof that you were real, had been with him, shared in a life with him even for a moment.

With his words more of a grunt than anything, he conceded, knowing the two beside him were just trying to help.

“What did you do Mando?” She asked quietly, the book from your crate in her hands and pages flipping as she looked through it. Hoping to find some light on how to connect with you. Din had gathered supplies from the Crest, things you may want once he managed to find you and rescue you.Your armor and more of your clothing, the first things he packed into your bag. An insistence for you to never leave the ship without the pauldrons again that he would plead with you until you conceded. People would be less likely to confront you with the tell-tale signet of a clan and the Mandalorian armor. But then again, he never planned to stray far from you outside of the ship. He knew you were capable, more than capable, but he…he wouldn’t be able to handle loosing you again if he was able to get you back.

When he got you back, he argued against the self-depreciating and negative thoughts that were attempting to consume him.

The ship was in hyperspace, a three-day trip ahead of them to make it to the mid rim coordinates of your home world. Neither had been there but knew of the inhabitants being an uneven mix of humans and a reptilian race. Oceans and sprawling fields of tall grass making up most of the environment. It was a moderately size planet, had seen bases for both the Resistance and the Empire in it’s time. Though the more recent had been the former. Most likely spurred on by your suspected return to what you knew in the wake of the Temple’s attack. An event in your life that you had yet to open up completely about, allowing him small glimpses before it became to much to talk about. But it was easy to connect the fall of Mandalore and the fall of your Temple being equally devastating, an attempt to take out entire cultures.

“I…I made a mistake.”

“…how big of a mistake?” Cara didn’t look up from the journal in her hands, not wanting to make the armored man feel cornered. Allowing him the privacy and space to turn away from the question should he want to, feel the need to.

“She fled the ship, to get some space. She must’ve been distracted, too worked up to keep her head up and on alert. It…I’m the reason she was taken.”

“Mando, you know that’s not true.” Cara tried to placate him, knowing he carried a lot of guilt over what had happened, whatever it had been to cause all of this. “She didn’t have her saber?”

“She does- did. She.. they drugged her. Like you said, it’s the only way to take her down.”

“Wait, this looks like Basic. They’re the only characters written differently…”

Din was hovering, making out the words on his own.

“Betrothed.”

He recalled the same words falling from your lips, the reason that prompted you to make an escape. You hadn’t wanted to be someone’s wife, someone’s property. The name was in Basic as well, something you didn’t want to forget lest they come after you themselves. A shadow of your past hovering over you and hidden in the back of your mind as you set out on your own, determined to hide yourself away to prevent anyone from having power over you. Of belonging to someone, anyone ever again.

And yet…you had so readily agreed in his commitment to you, knowing that was the only way Din would be able to share in your affections and wants. Mandalorian religion and culture strictly forbade the removal of one’s helmet unless it was with family, with a spouse, with children of the same clan. To do so outside of those conditions would result in the label of an apostate. Striped of their involvement in the lifestyle and Creed. It was a serious thing you should hold reservations about, with your past.

And while he hadn’t pushed the parameters of it….he had wanted to. For you, for himself, to share himself with you in the way that you had felt safe enough to voice. The realization that you had agreed to such an all-encompassing thing, being with him made him reflect. Why were you willing to do so with him, for him? He was just a bounty hunter, one who had actively sought you out and intended to turn you into the very person who had stolen you away. Sold you like an object to someone for their wants and needs, to fill a space in their life whichever way they commanded it. He had been of the same mind when first encountering you, seeking you out for a trade of currency.

Din was not a good man, though he tried to be for his people. But being a good man to his people, being the sole provider for his covert allowed him to be fast and loose with what it meant to be good in order to do so. What did it matter if the person whose puck he had was truly guilty of the accusations calling for their surrender if it allowed him to delivery credits and supplies to his people? What did it matter if the job warranted for the person he was tracking to be delivered dead or alive and he chose to kill them based on the simple notion of them running and it allowed him to bring a ration of meals to his people?

What had he ever done to deserve someone such as yourself willing to let down your walls and allow him entrance? He had been at internal war, whether or not to turn you in the second you spoke Mando’a to him, healed him, saved him from that second raging Mudhorn even when you had to reason to do so. You easily could’ve let the cut on his arm fester, let the rampaging creature take out his already spent form.

But…it wouldn’t have been easy, he knows now. How you cared for those around you: from friendly vendors to women you seemed to see yourself in, to children who are simply hungry and have no choice but to steal, to ad’ika in bounds and waves, to him. The constant swivel of your head while out in crowds and among people, sousing out threats and people who may be on the lookout for you. The swiftness with which you turn into a fighter when threatened and your freedom is at stake.

The thoughts swirled around and around in Din’s mind as the ship traveled toward your home world. The last known location of your mother and potentially holding clues as to who she struck a deal with. The now dead bounty hunter not having gotten a name, only concerned with the exchange of credits for your capture. No questions, no concerns. The quarry’s capture the only thing that mattered. The man had taken the job and completed it. Had died as a result of it.

Din had been like that too, not that long ago.

Could have easily been the one being imprisoned while someone who cared about a quarry sought answers and revenge. But he was the one realizing how fragile things where, had been since taking two fobs from Karga and altering the very meaning of his life.

Something about the wide, beseeching eyes of the child had activated his heart. Opened it up and made room for the small being to fit into. The uncertainty he had sensed from the child once its eyes had looked into his own, spurring a sense of concern from the armored man over its life well beyond the need to deliver it to the client healthy and alive.

“She asked for something, for a…kiss.”

“But…your helmet.” Cara weakly argued, knowing how strongly he adhered to his Creed. Not even removing it in the face of grave injury and offered aid. Not even removing it in the threat of death.

“I know,” His words were carried on a heavy sigh. He sat heavily in the seat beside her, the hull holding a small set up for longer travels. Ad’ika crawled from her lap and over the table, situating himself in Din’s arms, claws reaching for the helmet to try and sooth the man. “She- she called me ‘jatne vod’ before she fled from the ship.”

The cracking of his voice was not lost through the modulator.

“She must’ve felt so rejected, so unwanted. And I- I just stumbled over my words so badly she ran.”

“She knows you care about her, Din.”

The sound of his name from her lips, so different from when you spoke it, whispered it, breathed it, was too much for him.

“I really messed up, Cara.” He admitted with shaky words.

“We’ll fix it, I’ll help you fix it.”

K’ath was a beautiful planet. All endlessly sprawling ocean, sandy beaches, and small clustered villages.

Simple. Life here was simple. Crops being tended to, the oceans being fished in, no signs of the war other than an abandoned base on the edge of the largest cluster.

Din hadn’t ever wanted to enter the planet’s atmosphere, to step foot on the sandy land. It was a place that held painful memories for you, the crumbling of a life you had been hopeful to return to in the wake of losing everything that ever meant anything to you. A hopeful refuge after a life of hardships, but it had only provided you with more. The stripping of your freedom and the control over your own body.

It was simple enough to find your home, your mother’s home. Asking after the armorer, claiming he was in need of repairs. A Kath woman had been kind enough to try and use her broken Basic to tell them where he could find the store front, but that no one had been tended to it for some time now. That the woman who was known to run it could be approached at her personal residence. That she was kind and could be persuaded to help even though she’d long retired from working.

It was empty, signs of disuse obvious from the outside. Tall reeds of grass sprouting up at the foundation, the windows thick with grime. It was humble, despite the ways in which Din had seen you return from a shop front, a bag heavy with credits in your possession. A skill that you learned from your mother lending you a way to support yourself and indulge in all the things you had to go without for so long.

There was only one transmission on the communication radio set up in the corner that Cara had rushed to once the door had creaked open. Sand was collected in the corners, another sign that no one had occupied the residence for some time now.

“She’s on Maldovan.” Cara shuffled into the bedroom from the main one, aware that the man was focused on something she couldn’t see. He was as still as a statue, peering into the darkness of the doorway in front of him.

The visor allowing him to take in the room you had been held captive in. There was bedding on the ground, no frame for it to sit upon. A chair on the opposite side, close to the door. No windows, no other entrance or exit. A small room that was bathed in darkness lest someone bring a lantern into the room with them.

“I don’t know that planet.” Din admitted, shifting from where he was standing at the doorway of what had been the locked room hidden behind a large wardrobe to look over his shoulder at her. The shifting of it had popped a drawer open, revealing needles and syringes, vials that had been long emptied. All signs that this was truly the home you had been kept in.

“Is that-?”

“Where San was kept locked up, yeah.” He was surging forward, hands reaching for the chains secured to the walls above the bedding and he pulled. Using all the strength he had to rip them from where they were bolted, the wall cracking and splintering as he did so. The heavy chains fell to the floor with a clang, metal that sounded eerily familiar as it collapsed on itself. Kneeling down, Din reached for one of them, the cuff in his hand heavy and he sucked in a breath as he realized why such a simple contraption had been able to hold you: the chains were made of pure beskar.

Far too heavy for your drug addled body to fight against.

Programmed to shock you should you move too much, the sensors lining the inside of the cuffs telling him as much. With a shout he tore the second, lower set of chains from the wall, throwing them across the room in his rage.

The image of you shackled to the wall of this dark room, consumed with thoughts of ending your life kept him on his knees, forced his arms to support him as he crumpled to the ground completely. His modulator crackling with the heavy breaths.

Surging up, he activated bright flames to flow from his vambrace. Intent on tearing down the entire house to the last stud and beam. Cara was quick to retreat back outside, letting the man do what he felt was necessary. She stood behind him as he made his way outside, the structure entirely lit up and beginning to collapse in on itself.

Dark smoke whipped around in the breeze coming off of the nearby shoreline, doing nothing to quell the licking flames. Cara was doing her best to sooth an equally agitated child in the bad slung across her shoulders. Though she knew it would take time for them both to come back from seeing the evidence of your heavy past.

They watched as it turned from burning wood, the outer stone walls crumbling from the heat that had been trapped inside, to a pile of rubble and ash.

He knew it was against the Creed, that it was a sin to leave behind something of his people. But the beskar that had contained you glowed hot amongst the ash, left behind as he walked away from the plot of land and back to the ship.

“The holonet has little information on Maldovan. Citing that it’s a desert planet with white sands, crystalline oceans that bring in a lot of visitors.” Din announced as he exited the control room, the ship constructed of only that and one other room off the hold space. One level, but enough for them to be comfortable traveling. Cara had tried to get Din to retire to the room once they returned to the ship and left K’ath behind, but he had insisted he was fine. Though the door to the cockpit had been closed and locked for hours now, well into the trip since the ship had been jumped into hyperspace.

“And their walled city.” Cara added, as she brought up a hologram of the planet to life from her cuff. She had reached out to Karga, asking him for any aid he had to provide them on the place they were traveling to.

“Yes… and if her mother knows about you then it will be hard to make a plan. Your armor isn’t exactly common and I’m sure she’s told the royal guard to keep an eye out for you.”

“Haran.” He cursed, knowing Cara’s words were true.

Shit.

It was entirely possible, and he wouldn’t put it past the woman he personally knew nothing about, going off of the words of her that you had shared with him. But surely the only city on the planet wouldn’t go out of their way to screen the many tourists that sought out the picturesque world.

Time seemed to be moving slowly and far too fast all at the same time. Thoughts continued to consume Din, all the possibilities of what could occur, what had already occurred making him feel like he was a child once again who knew nothing of the world or how it worked. The ship’s system beeping before it shifted smoothly from traveling through hyperspace and back to sublight settings.

The planet in view was covered in vast expanses of white sand and bright blue. An ocean planet as much as a desert one. It was small, a moon to a larger planet visible in the sky even within the atmosphere as the ship descended. The only city was surrounded by a large wall, protection from the two outcroppings that looked to be a racetrack and the well-established tourist destination on either side.

Maldovan was known as a resort destination, an entire smaller sector off set from the main city. The sector looked to be abundant with hotels, spas, shopping, anything and everything to keep individuals occupied and a steady supply of credits flowing into the local economy.

Cara had suggested she be the one to guide the ship through the planet’s atmosphere, handle the communication with the intake group, and land the smaller ship into the hangar. She suggested he stay behind on the ship while she registered the ship, paying the station fee for several days. And when she returned, there was a frown on her face and a worried furrow to her brow.

The woman was frustrated, that much was obvious. Din merely watched her as she closed the ramp, turning to him and explaining what information she had gathered during the short interaction.

There were two glaringly obvious problems:

Everyone wore light, flowing coverings and outfits in order to gain access into the main part of the city.

And there were wanted posters depicting Din’s armored form.

previous chapter || next chapter

dividers: by the lovely @cafekitsune

taglist: @clevergirl74 @strawberri-blonde @js-favnanadoongi @littlemisspascal @moonknight-s-cumdump @bookloverkat @golden-mando @beskarandblasters @feral-ferrule @bearsbeetsbeskar @76bookworm76 @anoverwhelmingdin @sarap-77 @picassopedro @sawymredfox @jessthebaker @genetics4life @mosssbawls

#dev writes #fic: of beskar and kyber #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin series #din djarin fanfic #din djarin fic #din djarin pov #din djarin character study #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin smut #star wars #star wars fanfiction #cara dune #greef karga #din and grogu #grogu #angst #bounty hunter din djarin #ao3 #ao3 fic #ao3 link #archive of our own #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom

[riririnnnn]

When Bachira was first introduced, I actually didn't quite like his character much.

At a quick first glance, it's not tough to perceive him as the stereotypical quirky best friend/companion character for a protagonist—at least, that's what I judged him to be. Not hating on sunshine characters, but the first thing that came into my mind was, "So cliché." After Ego's such an intense speech, I just didn't appreciate the thought of a character being opposite to the more serious tone of the Manga; felt like pushing a character into the bandwagon of, "Idc if I'm weird, I love being me."

But now if someone were to say that they don't like Bachira, then I give them the most diabolical side-eye to have ever side-eyed in the history of side-eyeing.

I don't know how or maybe Rin was speaking with what he had experienced himself, but he grasped Bachira's character much better and before Isagi did (read left to right):

I didn't think of it much at that time, I just thought Rin was just being all high and mighty, but a small realisation did form in the back of my mind that despite the whole concept/ideal of Blue Lock and being a top notch player himself, Bachira always appeared like he was looking for someone and while others were trying make a goal by themselves in the Team Z, he was passing to Isagi—that's one of the reason I think Ego saw through too, maybe that's why Bachira was in Team Z and not higher.

Panning the focus to his childhood:

Just look at him trying to convince them to play more soccer with him.

*sigh*

He is so precious and my heart nearly broke when those kids were calling him gross and weird:

As someone with Mommy issues, you might not fully understand how much I adore Bachira's mother. Without her, Bachira would've lost himself completely. She is just amazing.

..but:

It was because of her that Bachira was able to continue believing in himself. He didn't want to lose the voice that others lost—that's one of the reasons why I think he made an imaginary friend, his monster, so that he wouldn't forget the voice.

However, amidst everything, he was just.. lonely.

He envisioned his soccer through the image of his monster. It was easier that way, at least, for him. However, he could only see that monster in those who were behind the screens—the actual pro players. That's why he wished to play just like them and to find someone who played soccer like him, understood the 'fun' part of soccer.

He was so lonely..

..and that's when Isagi came:

I'm so sorry to all Isagi x Bachira shipper, but I, sometimes, can't help but low-key despise you guys. I'm not saying all, but many of you have just reduced them to a Twink x Twink ship. I'm not against shipping, ship whoever you want as long as it's morally ethical and you aren't shoving it down my throat, but this ship does overshadows the actual beauty of their relation—their beautiful friendship.

Bachira had already started doubting himself whether he'd ever find someone or not—whether he'd be forever lonely with his soccer or not and that's when Isagi came. That's why Bachira loves Isagi so much—he was his first true friend after all.

Just to clarify again, I'm not against Isagi x Bachira ship and neither do I hate it. Please do not attack me. I'm not trying to shame anyone for shipping them.

I hope @thebluelockroyals, you now understand why I think Bachira has a sad backstory.

Loneliness is awful and the fear of never finding someone who understands you and your love for something you enjoy is heart wrenching. Some might argue that he got a wonderful mother, but sometimes, it's just not enough. Helplessness never sees your comfort—he had her, but he wished for someone who resonated in the same frequency as him.

.

.

.

This face screams, "I ated glass":

Younger!Bachira gives me so much baby fever. God! The cuteness aggression! I'll definitely give my own child the same hairstyle as his.

#blue lock #bllk #bachira meguru #雪 ranting

[splxtduxlies]

yes i kno i do a lot of agent 24 headcanons but what if. pearlina headcanons

(aka the other splatoon ship that makes up most of my brain's space)

so at this point i think we all pretty much get their lore - marina was an octoling solider that heard the inkantation at the end of splat1 and fled from underground, pearl was a richy rich inkling who wanted to start a band, they make out they get married they adopt agent 8 yk the Canon

marina's first impression of pearl was "wow this short inkling girl can scream"

pearl's first impression of marina was that she looked cool and would make her band stand out from the rest bc of her "weird" look (pearl canonically did not know marina was an octoling lol) it wasnt long until "cool" became "shes pretty cute actually" and then "wow shes beautiful" and it just went downhill from there

for pearl she definitely fell in love with marina's looks first,, shes not even gonna lie,, she can be a lil shallow lesbian smh

marina for. obvious reasons cant say she ever found inklings physically attractive, given the. yk. propaganda in the underground

so for her she really admired pearl's inner beauty first and most

i like to think marina was not on the ground *at all* when she was in the military. definitely the one controlling the tech from the sidelines so she never really had to hold a weapon

hence, marina cannot fight. she's too pretty & she will cry

okay well she did grow up underground so she can hold her own when she needs to but she gets frazzled easily and a little overwhelmed. definitely tries to talk or manipulate her way out of tough situations

pearl, surprisingly on the otherhand, can and will beat the shit out of a grown man

well she's scrappy so she'll bite them and claw at them and kick in their shins and they'll run away but not without literal chunks bitten out of them

anything for her queen ✨️🌸

when marina agreed to make a band with pearl, pearl was so excited she immediately suggested marina move into her home (her bodyguards were horrified)

marina,,, immediately politely declined and pearl helped her get an apartment instead

basically, despite appearances and titles, pearl is not the princess who needs protecting by marina , she thinks of it Very differently

pearl's love language is, obviously, words of affirmation and gift giving

her way of "courting" marina was buying her tons of stuff and offering to have people do everything for her so she doesnt have to lift a finger

it worked for all pearl's exs sooooo should work for this octo baddie right (she is not right)

marina's love languages are physical touch and words of affirmation...actually its mostly physical touch lol

yk marina hugging pearl so hard they fall on the ground at the end of octo expansion. and then she keeps Going

marina is "baby i want the most high tech weaponry on the black market" and pearl is definitely "my baby gets whatever she wants laws be damned"

growing up a only child in a family with a LOT of money means pearl definitely got the spoiling but. she never got the feeling of spoiling Someone Else and she prefers that waay more

marina does not have expensive tastes,,, but she doesnt mind being spoiled sometimes as a treat i meann it would be rude to decline n she was raised to be polite soooOO

if marina's friends from the octoling barracks saw the stuff pearl buys her now they would be in Shock

but dont forget,,, marina was team love so shes not overly impressed by *all* the gifts

of all the fancy music gear and clothes and things pearl has bought her marina's favorite gift has just been plain ole flowers

they dont grow underground obviously but theyve always captured marina, the smell the look the different varieties she loves them

when marina thinks of the beauty and joy of being above ground first she thinks of pearl, and then she thinks of flowers

pearl catches on that marina likes flowers and starts ordering her tons of bouquets and starts lining the hallways leading to her apartment with floral gifts and flowers in the shape of her head and all kinds of junk

marina accepted the gifts. politely ofc

but her fondest memory is of her and pearl doing a photoshoot for an album in a wildflower meadow. marina looked so beautiful and Pearl's crushing was driving her crazy so she gathered a bunch of random flowers in her fist and shoved them in marina's face because she had to give her Something or she was gonna loose it

marina felt so fond, she keeps the dry and crumpled flowers in a locket with her all the time

at some point pearl realized marina likes it better when She opens the door for her first instead of pearl's bodyguards so now pearl rushes to every door to open it for marina before anyone else can

*bodyguard opens car door for pearl on side* *pearl runs to the other side of the car to open the door for marina*

pearl snores and drools like a dad of 4 who works a blue collar job 5 days a week and luckily marina is a heavy sleeper.

marina is the small spoon exclusively,,, when they fall asleep. when they wake up pearl is wrapped in marinas arms AND tentacles and she can't Move

whenever they get into fights pearl Always is the one to apologize. not just because shes usually the one whose wrong but marina is scary good at being cold (surprisingly given how affectionate and sweet she is with pearl) and pearl absolutely Hates it, its like the world feels wrong

everyone notices because marina is usually all over her, so pearl gets pressured by her bodyguards to apologize too (they always know shes in the wrong)

marina makes it look easy,,, but shes usually moments away from apologizing herself bc she misses her pearl so much

pearl is one of those people who makes sounds and hand motions to express feelings and marina is usually the only one who understands

marina has literally made a powerpoint presentation on all the things she loves about pearl in great detail. and she will present it do not test her

she's perpetually in the "crushing phase" and gets so excited to spend time with her and pearls like "babe we've been married for 2 years i see u every night and day"

if i was allowed to keep going i would never stop-

#splatoon #splatoon 3 #off the hook #splatoon off the hook #splatoon marina #splatoon pearl #pearlina #splatoon headcanon #splat.txt #oth

[sideblog-hazbin-hotel-fics]

The Announcement of Hell's Spare

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Ship: Lucifer/Alastor Warning: Mpreg prompt, someone wanted Charlie to have a baby sibling via Luce getting knocked up Alastor.

****

"You've been away, Your Majesty," Alastor greeted in an accusatory manner when he finally saw Lucifer enter the hotel. Though no one dared to ask him, Alastor has obsessively kept track of how long it's been since the last time Lucifer's been at the hotel. 

"I haven't been feeling well..." 

"...you're an angel. King of Hell. You can't be ill."

"Not normally, no."

"Were you hurt? Has Heaven been bothering you?" Alastor demanded. Even if he wasn't proud of how his battle went, didn't mean he wasn't invested in the fight still. Now more than ever since his thing with Lucifer has become what it has. Thinking about Lucifer getting into some sort of trouble on his own away from everyone made his blood boil. Lucifer wasn't as permanent of a fixture at the hotel as the rest of them now were. Lucifer had responsibilities and a palace that was deeply rooted in enchanted power that was drool-worthy. For as many Sinners who would fall to Lucifer's feet, there were also those stupid or bold or angry enough to try and harm him at a chance of bettering their situation. 

"No, not like that. If anything, if I'm ill it's your fault!" 

"My fault? However is that it my fault?" 

"Because when I said I'm ill, I meant I'm pregnant!" Lucifer hissed. 

"...what now?" 

Lucifer sighed, far too exhausted to deal with Alastor's shock. He wasn't sure how the demon would react to it, but he was prepared to be a single father. He's had enough practice of it already with Charlie after his and Lilith's split. So he told Alastor the facts, "I felt strange. It's been a good two hundred years since it happened, so it's been a while, but then it became familiar. I did a few tests and...it's positive. I'm expecting." 

"A child?"

"Yes."

"Our child?" 

Lucifer sort of expected a form of this question. Though he expected Alastor to call it just his, or ask if Lucifer was sure it was Alastor's at all. Yet, the deer demon was calling it their child. "Yes." 

"...are there royal protocols in place? Will it be a royal? Or will it just be known as a bastard?" 

"My child will not be a bastard!" 

"...did you just ask me to marry you?" 

"..." Lucifer felt his face heat up at that. Regaining his composure, he cleared his throat and said, "I meant to say...this child will have the same title and perks as Charlie did. They will be a Morningstar. Prince or Princess of Hell." 

"And me?" 

"...I won't force you to do anything you don't want. I'm damned for giving Free Will and will maintain it as a vital part of who I am. You're free to do as you wish." 

"Then expect me to move into the palace."

"What?" 

"Unless you're planning on moving more permanently into the hotel. We can work things around and have our rooms connected. Expand to make room for the child. At first, they won't need much, but they will need their space." 

"You're...not freaking out?" 

"I'm surprised. But you're not a liar, my dear. If this was just another attempt at bantering with me, this is not a topic you'd play with. There's no reason for you to say you are with child unless it's true. I'm also very aware of how and when this might have happened."

"Right. So. I'm pregnant. It's yours. And we're keeping it."

"And raising it. Together." 

"Right."

"...do you want me to be the one to tell darling Charlie she's going to be an older sister?"

"Please."

****

"Holy fuck, don't do that!" Lucifer cried out when he woke up and found Alastor hovering over him. 

"You didn't notice me come in. Nor feel I've been here for the last fifteen minutes."

"You were watching me sleep like some voyeuristic creep?" Lucifer deadpanned as he sat up properly and stretched a bit. 

Alastor took the chance to sit next to him. He was gripping his staff firmly if only to help resist the urge to reach out and either wrap his arm around Lucifer or maybe even place his hand over the belly. Their relationship was a lot more about heated moments and fun arguments escalating to situations neither of them really expected. 

"You're the king of Hell and are now with child. You should have more protection."

"I'm in my daughter's hotel. The only people in here are the people she trusts. And you," Lucifer stifled a yawn but also gave him a soft teasing smile. 

Alastor frowned," I'm serious. I could have killed you." 

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that, dearheart." 

"Lucifer." 

It was part of their game to call each other names. Insults that have become almost terms of endearment. Actual names...showed seriousness. 

Lucifer sighed and turned to face Alastor properly, "A royal baby that's part angel, part...begrudgingly powerful overlord...takes a lot of energy. I get tired more easily. It's why I'm here. And not at the palace. When we rebuilt the hotel, I added extra layers of protection. It's not as safe as my palace, but it's safe enough for Charlie. And it's safe enough for this little one too."

"That still leaves you being...not to your usual strength," Alastor said quietly. There was a long pause before he dared to finally reach out and hold Lucifer's hand in his. "How dangerous is this for you?" 

"I...don't know. Hellborns aren't exactly rare. But this isn't the typical case. But let's not forget who I am, okay? I'll be fine." 

"Of course you will. Because let's not forget who I am. I'm going to take care of you. And you're going to let me." 

"Hey! I am still king! You can't tell me what to do!" 

"No, but I can tell Charlie you're not taking care of yourself and her puppy eyes will have you yielding in seconds." 

"Cheater."

"Hmm," Alastor only smiled. If that was cheating, it wasn't beneath him if it guaranteed making this easier for Lucifer.

****

"I need your help, if you have a moment."

Charlie literally dropped all the papers she had in her hands and rushed up to her dad, "Of course! What do you need? Is everything okay? Is it the baby?" 

Alastor telling her about the pregnancy had been...a thing. She went through a whole roller coaster of emotions that ranged from disbelief to panic to excitement to...plenty more. Once she processed that her father and Alastor had been more involved than she could ever imagine, she did go into a weird mourning stage in realizing that her old family she dreamed would one day magically heal and be what she dreamed was probably not going to happen, she began to accept the new reality. 

The responsibility she took upon herself in the attempt to help her people helped her have more insight. The people in her hotel were more than just a project. They were her friends, if not already family in her eyes and heart. 

And now she was going to be a big sister! 

It was still a secret, though Vaggie learned about it because she just needed someone to talk to! She understood why it wasn't something to talk openly about that went beyond how annoying gossip could be. 

Alastor also warned her about her dad being weakened by providing a lot of his strength to the baby. She saw it more since she was looking for it, but she wasn't the only one. Some were concerned something deadlier was going on that Lucifer was dealing with that they weren't privy to. 

"Whoa, there. Breathe, sweetie. Everything's fine. I'm fine, baby's fine, you're fine! We're all fine."

"We're all fine!" Charlie repeated. 

"Right. Now, look. We can't keep this a secret forever. I'm dreading the initial reactions but I'm preparing for it as best as I can. If anything, I can just go back to the palace until the birth." 

"Alastor's already kind of preparing for that anyway."

"He is?" 

"We've been talking," She informed him. 

"Huh. Okay. We'll talk more about that later. Before we go off on any more tangents, let me get to the point. This is Hell. Wedlock bullshit doesn't matter with us because why would it? Your sibling will be a prince or princess as much as you are. Title, perks, respect. All of it."

Charlie smiled, "Good."

"We are the royal family. When these things happen there are usually announcements and such. I don't know yet if Alastor will want all of Hell to know just yet his involvement, but you're my daughter, my heir, and their older sister. There may be an announcement I'll make once I start showing if I don't plan to keep inside, but once the baby is born, I want you to stand next to me as I present Hell to its second in line. Will you?"

"Of course!" 

"Good. And sweetheart?"

"Yes?"

"You can go ahead and tell anyone else in the hotel if you really want to."

"Oh thank you! Thank you, thank you, I have been trying so hard!"

"I know. And I appreciate it. But I can also see how hard it's been for you, so if it comes up...you can." 

Charlie hugged him in response. 

The next time he walked through the lobby, which was about an hour later, he felt everyone's eyes on him. 

He stared at all of them with an unimpressed expression, "Alastor will take the questions, not me." Then he turned around and made it back to his suite. 

****

"You want me to go back to the palace don't you?" Lucifer asked while he rested in Alastor's arms as they lay in his bed. 

"It's safer for you there."

"I hate being away from Charlie..."

"It won't be like last time. She'll visit more. We'll visit too when possible."

"We?" 

"You're not getting rid of me." 

Lucifer chuckled and smiled. Lifting his finger to one of his sharp teeth, he bit down hard enough to draw blood and then offered it to Alastor. The deer demon held Lucifer's hand before gently, and rather sensually, licking the dripping blood that ran down the digit before taking the tip of his finger into his mouth and suckling until the wound healed. Alastor pressed a kiss to the tip of the finger, and then the inner palm, and then kissed Lucifer's knuckles. "I'll miss how delicious you taste, darling..."

"Why would you miss it? Aren't you basically latching on and becoming my shadow?" 

"I'm not taking the literal life essence from you or our child," Alastor deadpanned. 

"Pft. Boo." 

"You want me to bite into you?" 

"...yeah. I like it. You do it well."

 Alastor cupped Lucifer's cheek and they stared into each other's eyes. The heat that's usually there was present, but also something new. Maybe something that has been there for a while but they're now willing to see. Alastor leaned in and kissed Lucifer. Gently at first, but it slowly turned into a make-out session that slowly became more hungry and passionate. 

When they pulled apart, they continued to steal kisses between shared pants of breath. 

"My, my your Majesty, we might be recreating our child's conception all over again." 

"Oh, there's no might about it dearheart."

****

"You asked about royal protocols. We usually present the latest heir together as a family. Charlie said she'd be with me...will you be there too? Or will you remain in the shadows?" He liked to bask in the post-glow bliss, but this was something that had been on his mind for a while. So though he felt fully sated and more than content, he turned his full focus and attention to Alastor. 

Alastor simply pulled Lucifer closer still until Lucifer was on top of him again. His possessiveness over the King of Hell has only grown and it was becoming harder to remain subtle about it. "No nightmare of Hell nor army of Heaven could keep me away, darling." 

#long post #mpreg fic #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #radio apple #lucifer/alastor #don't like don't read

[meraxesmoon]

What if they have baby sis that is an unburnt dragon rider somehow 😶

Hear me out imagine ragnar finds some strange looking rocks (dragon eggs) and they hatched in the readers lap

Ragnar thinking: my daughter 5 and already is a fucking goddess... My sperm is amazing im going to valhalla

Aslaug: yea shes my daughter so it checks out

But the people of kattegat would be so scared of the 3 dragons flying with their mama (or is it sister?)

What do you think their names would be? And their colors?

Also... I feel like hvitserk and ivar are the only ones who she would let her dragons come closer because they are her favorites and they can sense it 💀

I LOVE THIS!!!

Yeah, he'd be the type to pick up some rocks with scales and think 'bringing these home is such a great idea, lol'.

But they turn out to catch the eye of his youngest child and daughter (Name). She gets attached to the rocks and carries them around with her around Kattegatt. At night, she keeps them warmed on a brazier and sleeps close by. She does this because her uncle Floki told her myths of dragons and how they laid eggs, so she assumes that they're dragon eggs.

One day, while she's cradling them in her lap during dinner the eggs start to crack open, three eggs reveal three tiny dragons, and they latch onto the source of warmth they'd felt for months on end; Little (Name) Lothbrok. You've got to imagine how the rest of the family reacts to this. Aslaug thinks that her daughter just has these three little winged lizards, but then they keep getting bigger!

As for her dragons, one is black, one is blue, and then the youngest dragon is a soft pink. I've decided that baby Lothbrok is very slay, so of course she'd have a pink dragon. They're so protective of their mommy, too! If anyone (stupidly) tried to hurt her, all three baby dragons would attack and burn them.

The black one would be Morghul, the blue would be called Nyrax, and the pink one would be Syraxes. Since they live in Kattegatt, the dragons would grow very large due to not being caged in a certain space. In about eight or nine years they're absolutely huge, bigger than one of Ragnar's ships. I imagine they eat a lot of fish, and baby Lothbrok spoils her children <3

Morghul is the oldest of the dragons, having hatched first, and he's very grumpy. Nyrax has a very social personality, however most people are terrified of her, so she only seems to get on with her siblings and (Name). Syraxes is the closest with (Name) and is the prettiest lizard anyone has ever seen. However, she has a horrid temper, and often snaps at humans and her fellow dragons. Morghul tolerates Ivar, and Nyrax likes Hvitserk, but Syraxes specifically only likes her rider.

The dragons probably go on raids, as well.

dracarys :3

#cw: yandere blog #cw: yandere content #cw: yandere #yandere vikings #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere content #yandere #kay writes

[beanghostprincess]

ShuggyUta family is so cute and funny bc like.

One one hand - AAAA CUTE Uta one day having the EPIPHANY that half of her hair is WHITE, and HAIR DYE EXISTS so she hunts down the closest blue to Buggy's hair. She dyes it in the middle of the night, and either comes out next morning completely casual OR bursts out like "DAD, PAPA, LOOK NOW I HAVE BOTH OF YOU WITH ME :DD"

They both implode immediately ((and Buggy gives her the "The sentiment is so sweet baby, but remember you never ever have to change your appearance to be worthy of love. If you want to, want it for yourself, okay? We love you no matter what" talk))

Then there's also the shenanigans.

Buggy: .... whatchya got there?

Shanks and Uta, both holding one of Luffy's hands, holding cups in the other: ........ smoothies?

<><><><><>

Buggy: Shanks so help me, I TOLD YOU not to get another kid-

Shanks: whaaaaaat? Hahaha, no Bugaboo. You told me very specifically I am not to adopt another child :))

Buggy: so why are there two new children in the kitchen

Luffy: I adopted them!

Uta: we have big brothers now!

Shanks:

Buggy:

Shanks: you told me not to adopt anyone. You didn't tell Lu or Uta.

Buggy: alright. That one's on me.

<><><><><>

Rayleigh, surprise visiting his kids: hello my children, I have swam across the Grandline- is that a kid?

Buggy, Uta on one hip, Sabo on his shoulders, Luffy on his back and Ace clinging to his leg and glaring death at Ray: four, actually.

Ray:

Buggy:

Ray: I'm a grandpa? And you didn't TELL ME??

<><><><><>

Shanks: happy mothers day, Bug!

Buggy: i'm... not a woman?

Shanks: maybe not but you ARE a botto-

Buggy: punches him I'm keeping the roses and chocolates

<><><><><>

Buggy and Shanks teaching them the pirates code, weapons, Haki, sailing, navigation, etc.

Shanks has a moment of "is it really okay to have them on the ship? We were in danger, Bug, it hurt us, what if we're hurting THEM-??"

Buggy smacks him. "We're learning from our dads' mistakes, Red. It's not perfect. We're not perfect. We just need to be the best we can and always put them first. We need to communicate. If we leave them, we can't protect them. If we leave, they'll be on their own. This is the lesser evil. We need to have their security as our priority. We're pirates, but we're parents, too. We can not commit to one over the other, but we can't let it hurt our babies. They're ours now. We are NOT leaving them behind."

<><><><><>

Ace gets a crash course in his history. It's rocky at first, but it's only bc he asks Buggy and Shanks ((separately, mind you)) about "if Gold Roger Had A Kid".

Buggy responds with a snort. "I mean, he kinda had two? But if we had another, then word, I guess? I'd be a little annoyed."

"Bc of his blood?"

"What? No. I'd be pissed that Captain didn't tell me. Asshole move, that. Why do you ask, freckles?"

Shanks, meanwhile, just shrugs. "Ya know how they say blood is thicker than water?"

"... yeah?"

"Yeah, it's bullshit. I wouldn't really care. If Captain had a kid, that's just not my business. I bled with him, for him, and he did for me. I think of him as my father, so I guess that would be sort of like... a little sibling, maybe? But it'd be up to the kid. Your blood doesn't define you, Ace. That's a lesson all good pirates know."

"......... mm."

<><><><><>

Sabo, no warning, in the middle of dinner: I'm a runaway noble.

Shanks: oh neat.

Buggy: oh? Which family? Want me to rob them for you?

Sabo: you aren't mad???

Uta, shrugging: it doesn't matter. You're still a feral jungle brat. Besides, if anyone in the family passes as a fancy pants noble, it's me!

Buggy: 🤨

Uta: ... and mama Bug. I guess.

Luffy: I don't care. Sabo is Sabo.

Ace: yeah, what he said.

Buggy: I will still rob them though.

<><><><><>

That's all I got rn baaaaiiii

Help these are all great 😭 You made my day with this <3

They just keep adopting kids and expanding the family. When they grow up, they get their partners and Zoro, Yamato, Koala, and Perona are there 24/7 because these kids cannot have a normal relationship that isn't based on codependency and both Shanks and Buggy have to deal with four more people around.

Ace telling them he is Roger's child and Sabo telling them he is a noble??? That kills me. They'd be so supportive and protective of them, too. It kills me.

Also, Buggy would ADORE these kids. Rayleigh comes over and sees the whole thing and Shanks thinks he's going to be angry because they didn't tell him but the man is just amazed they managed to have a family of their own without fucking up. Buggy keeps saying it was thanks to him because Shanks wouldn't have been able to do it on his own and, like, everybody agrees.

#also bold of you to assume buggy isn't a woman. buggy is whatever buggy wants. buggy is a feeling. buggy is an experience #buggy is non-binary to me okay- #but this is all great PLEASE i've been laughing for ten minutes #one piece #red haired shanks #buggy the clown #shuggy #uta one piece #asl brothers #monkey d. luffy #revolutionary sabo #portgas d. ace

[diazsdimples]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Tagged by @dangerpronebuddie thanks friend!!

How many works do you have on ao3?

13! Will be 18 when I finish all my current wips (should be 19 but one has been abandoned 🥲)

What's your total ao3 word count?

230,841 words

What fandoms do you write for?

Exclusively 9-1-1, mostly because I deleted all my old British Actor RPF fics 😐

Top 5 fics by kudos:

1. Buck's Baby (By Accident) (Buddie)

2. For the rest of my life (for the rest of yours) (Buddie)

3. Sweet child of mine (Bucktommy)

4. In a drought I'll give you water (Buddie)

5. Fucking Finally (Finally Fucking) (Buddie)

Do you respond to comments?

Eventually 😬I try my best!!

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

None of my published fics have a shred of angst. However, Frostpunk AU is full of it so it'll be that

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

All of them?? But probably Sweet child of mine or For the rest of my life (for the rest of yours) for hopeful endings

Do you get hate on fics?

Not really? I did have one person get mad at me for events that transpire in Buck's Baby (By Accident) but idc really

Do you write smut?

No. Never. Smut is terrible.

(This is a blatant lie, 7/13 of my fics are smut and I have 3 wips that have smut)

Craziest crossover?

I don't write crossovers.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

If I have, I'm gonna throw hands

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I know of!

Have you co-written a fic before?

Currently co-writing 2 with @hippolotamus and @theotherbuckley!

All time favorite ship?

Buddie. Always Buddie. Will always be Buddie. Followed closely by Bucktommy

What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I really hate to say this but probably my Single Dads AU. She's so beefy and the size of it has scared the hell out of me. As much as I love it, I don't think it gets as much traction as other wips and the beans just haven't been there.

What are your writing strengths?

I honestly don't know, I think I can write smut pretty well? And I'm not bad at cute stuff. The honest truth is I am extremely insecure about my writing abilities and think I'm average at best.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I struggle with dialogue as I often feel like I'm being too OOC. Also descriptions. I spend the most time sitting there thinking of how tf to describe something.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

I can google translate pet names and that's where I draw the line. I don't want people to say that I'm saying stuff wrong.

First fandom you wrote in?

Marvel and Sherlock, at the same time.

Favorite fic you've written?

Play me like a fiddle is my labour of love and the fact that it flopped the way it did made me so sad. My next favourite would be You've got me whipped (Brat!Buck BDSM fic) cause it was so out of my comfort zone but I feel like I did it well, or In a drought I'll give you water because I have never been funnier in a fic than in this one.

Tagging (if you wanna): @theotherbuckley @hippolotamus @daffi-990 @watchyourbuck @bidisasterevankinard

@neverevan @aroeddiediaz @spotsandsocks @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @nmcggg

@jesuisici33 @wikiangela @loveyouanyway @cal-daisies-and-briars @exhuastedpigeon

@kitteneddiediaz @thekristen999 @actuallyitsellie @loserdiaz @elvensorceress

@underwaterninja13 @rainbow-nerdss @smilingbuckley @spagheddiediaz @steadfastsaturnsrings

@thewolvesof1998

#james writes #20 questions #fic writer #author #911 fics #buddie fic #bucktommy fic #yes i am tagging both that's bc both ships feature here #do not come for me #buddie #911 abc #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 buddie #911 fanfic #eddie x buck #tommy kinard #tevan #kinkley #buck x tommy #bucktommy