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#bird section of the zoo my beloved
604to647 · 29 days
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Hat Trick (Safest with You AU)
1.7K / Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!reader
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Summary: Din takes you to a hockey game for date night. Hat Trick = when a player scores three times (goals) in a game.
Warnings: 18+ content (MDNI please), No smut but smut adjacent, established relationship, possessive!Din if you squint really hard, thigh riding/grinding in public, dirty talk, light degradation (whore, affectionate), pet names as usual (pretty bird, baby, sweetheart, etc.), use of hockey terms.
A/N: My beloved Canucks are leading their conference (woo!) and they’re playing tonight so to wish them luck, here’s a little one shot with our Safest with You couple. There’s a little more characterization of reader in this one in that she’s a big hockey fan, hope that doesn’t stop anyone from enjoying the story! 😘 Also, the term "puck bunny" is used but is not intended in any actual derogatory or sexist way; it's completely light-hearted teasing because we, reader and Din, all know that shaming female fans is not a thing and we can happily let woman enjoy sports any way they want🏒🐰
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“These are great seats, Din!” you beam, as you take off your jacket and look around; you’re seven rows up from the ice in the lower bowl, right behind the goal.  Perfect seats.
As soon as Din sees your sweatshirt, he laughs at the bright team colours and large block letters in the front that read “I just hope both teams have fun.”  My sweet girl, he thinks.
Turns out, you did not want both teams to have fun.  Turns out, you wanted the visiting team to eat ice shit.
The first time your team’s defense crushes someone against the glass with devastating precision and you roar your approval, he looks over, stunned.  While he knew you loved hockey, he hadn’t expected you to get so into a live sporting event.
And he knew you had a mouth on you, but he’s never heard it at this volume, your hands cupping around your mouth in a makeshift bullhorn to amplify your trash talk:
“PUT HIM IN JAIL!!!!” When the ref doesn’t call for the tripping of one of your players.
“Don't get too comfortable!!! Don't even sit down!!” When the opposing team opts for a two-man advantage for their power play by pulling their goalie.
“How was that fucking slashing?!  He barely touched him!! What is this, soccer????”  When your team captain is put in the penalty box.
“Get it together!! I've seen more organization at the zoo!!” When the teams fight for the puck against the boards, the other team attempting to clear.
“This isn’t cake, stop icing!!” When the other team does clear the puck.
You’re equally as vocal with your encouragement and praise:
“Shoot it!  Shoot it!  Atta boy!!”
“Let’s go defense, let’s go!! Yesssssssss!!”
“Fucking look how smooth that line change was!!”
“Get it, get it, you got it!!”
You cheer loud and earnestly for every save your goalie makes, face-off won, and glove dropping fight.  Each home goal is celebrated out of your seat, reverie extending to Din and your seat neighbours via hugs and high-fives. Your energy is infectious and Din hasn’t had this much fun at a hockey game in years.
During the second intermission, just when the two of you are musing if it’s worth the line-ups to get a bucket of popcorn to share, you hear a familiar voice say your name.
“Jessica?” you squeal in delight, throwing your arms around a petite blonde, “I haven’t seen you in forever!”
“I thought that was you! Derek and I have been debating it over the last two periods, and I finally said I would just come over and find out for myself,” she points up in the stands a couple of sections over and a few rows up, and you see her husband waving wildly with both arms and you wave back enthusiastically.
The two of you catch up quickly and when you introduce Din to your friend, she looks thrilled, “Do you play as well?”
Din looks confused, so you proudly answer for him, “Din’s a boxer.”
“Ohhhhhh. Sorry, you just had the look of an enforcer, but that makes sense.”  You have to keep yourself from laughing at the double meaning Jess definitely didn’t intend.
The two of you chat a little bit longer before your friend has to leave if she’s to make it back to her seat before the third period starts.  As you say goodbye and promise to see each other again soon, you look up to wave to Derek as well, and Jess says, “Oh, yeah, Russ is here with us too.” The man sitting next to Derek locks eyes with you and waves back, same as his friend.
Starting up the stairs, Jess says, “Nice to meet you!” to Din, a sentiment he returns, and to you, “Nice to see you’re branching out,” before she winks and runs away as you roll your eyes good naturedly.
When the third period gets underway, Din leans over, “What did she mean, branching out?”
You feel your cheeks get hot, and you avoid Din’s eye by keeping yours locked on the game, “Oh… well, I used to almost exclusively date hockey players…”
“Like…. a puck bunny?”
Dropping your jaw, scandalized, “No!! Not like a puck bunny!! That’s not a thing!” And as Din laughs, you feel the need to explain, “I wasn’t trying to date hockey players.  It just turned out that the people I dated also happened to play hockey.  Like, when Jess set me up with Derek’s friend, I didn’t know they played on a team together!”
“Oh, that guy over there?” Din looks up at where Jess has rejoined her husband and sees the man next to him looking over at the two of you.  You shrug and nod, turning back to the game, “So anyways, it was kind of like this joke that if I dated someone, they would coincidentally turn out to play hockey.”
Puck bunny, you mutter under your breath, and Din grins and throws his arm around you, kissing you on top of your head to placate you.
After the end of an exciting final period where your favourite right winger almost scores a hat trick, you and Din file out of the arena with the crowd, Din’s arm casually draped around your shoulders as you practically bounce out of happiness at your team’s win.
While walking to the subway, you spot Derek’s head peaking out above the crowd and he smiles big when he sees you and starts to make his way over.  Your two groups converge near the subway entrance and it’s another happy reunion. You haven’t seen Derek since you last saw Jess and you’ve always found him to be hilarious, laid back and kind; perfect for your bubbly friend.  Even seeing Russ again is nice, although there isn’t really any reason it wouldn’t be; the two of you had dated for a bit, but your long work hours and his away game schedule had prevented it from getting too serious, and the two of you had parted amicably.  If he stares at you while the five of you chat and revisit your favourite moments from the game, you don’t notice.  Derek and Jess invite you to join them at the sports bar they’re heading to, but you and Din politely decline, saying you have to get back to Al.  Only Jess and Din catch Russ’ look of disappointment before you part ways.   
While waiting on the subway platform, Din asks to know more about your friends, and you tell him everything: how you and Jess met at a baking class, Derek’s courtship and their wedding, and also about your and Russ’ brief relationship.
When you get on the subway, it’s too packed for you to find seats, so you end up standing right next to a pole by the door, with Din hovering protectively, ready to catch you if you lose your footing while the subway moves. 
“You know… I know how to play hockey too,” he’s looking at you with a silly, pouty face and you can’t help but giggle.  “Not ice hockey, but we’d sometimes play street hockey in front of the gym when we were kids.  Stopped after Paz broke a car window and it turned out that car belonged to a Hutt and nearly started a damn street war.”
“Omigod,” you chuckle, imaging a young Din and Paz running around the street with hockey sticks. 
“So… your streak isn’t broken… puck bunny.”
“Ugh!” you playfully swat at Din’s shoulder, “I told you!! It was a coincidence!”
Din leans in, pressing your back into the pole and whispers, “Ok, not a puck bunny… but you’re still my bunny.”
You gasp a little at the possessive tone lacing his words and can’t help but squeeze your thighs together, squirming slightly and hoping no one on the subway notices.
Din notices, though, “Is my pretty bunny feeling needy in front of all these people?  You need something between those legs, baby?”
You nod, whimpering just a bit, and pull Din closer by tugging at the bottom of his jacket.  Very subtly, he steps between your legs and bends his knee slightly so the angle slopes right at your core.  When the subway makes a tight turn, all the passengers jostle and Din’s leg bumps up into you, giving you a jolt of electrifying friction.  You close your eyes and have to bite you lip to stifle a moan.  Feeling cocky, Din whispers hotly in your ear, “Let them hear you, pretty bird.  Let everyone in this subway car know how dirty you are, getting off on daddy’s thigh in public.”
The subway goes over a bumpy stretch of track and you’re knocked right into Din’s chest, pressed up against his body, practically sat down on his leg.  You don’t bother to upright yourself, instead letting the rolling movement of the subway rock your needy pussy back and forth against Din’s thigh, slowly warming the ball of pleasure within you.
You’re practically humming with need in Din’s arms; just before the subway jerks to a stop, he growls in your ear, “Do you think you can come like this, baby? Or do you need me to fuck you in front of all these strangers, so they can see what a pretty whore you are?”.  The screech of the subway brakes cover-up your moans, and you’re only slightly relieved when Din withdraws his knee, but continues to hold you close against his chest.  As the train starts to move again, you look up at him with your lust hooded eyes, and quietly whine, “Daddy.”
Din chuckles and leans down to press a chaste kiss to your lips, “No one gets to see you come but me, okay pretty bird?  Now can you be a good girl and be patient for daddy?  Just two more stops and I’ll give you that hat trick you deserve when we get home.”
Smiling dreamily at the promise of multiple orgasms, you nod, “Okay, I’ll be good.  As long as both teams get to have fun,” and as you snuggle deeper into Din’s arms, you feel his whole chest vibrate with laughter.
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neontaxidermy · 3 years
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I FORGOT about zoos and aquariums I NEED to go when I’m vaccinated
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necrowriter · 4 years
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monday thing: may eighteenth (on hidden obstacles)
lately I've been thinking about video games.
I've played quite a bit of Animal Crossing since New Horizons came out. so, as you just might have noticed, have a lot of other people. by pure coincidence it happened to come out at a time when a great many people needed exactly the kind of escapism Animal Crossing offers. it's peaceful and soothing and soft, an imaginary getaway to a distant island where the neighbors are all friendly, the waves lap gently against clean bright sand, and there is never anything much to worry about it.
but New Horizons was eagerly anticipated long before anyone had any inkling what the circumstances around its release were going to be. it's the fifth game in a very successful series. Animal Crossing has had something appealing to offer for a long time. in the wake of the success of New Horizons I've seen a number of people wondering--many jokingly, some not--about why, exactly, the series is so appealing. is it really that much fun to pay off a home loan? to pull weeds and water flowers? are people really so invested in the thought of buying furniture or catching bugs to sell?
the usual sort of answer--again, often a joking one, sometimes not--is that the appeal is that you can pay off your home loan, without stress or fear, without interest accumulating, without any consequences if you don't. you can earn all the money you need by doing simple, easy tasks, and in the meantime your tanuki landlord will happily wait on you for years if he has to. well ain't that an impossible dream, amirite? we might as well enjoy doing it in a video game because we have no hope of doing it in real life.
and that answer is true, I think, but it only scratches the surface of something that extends well beyond Animal Crossing.
Animal Crossing is perhaps the most extreme example, but many--maybe even most--video games offer the chance to pursue relatively normal, everyday sort of tasks even when the main focus of the game is something very grand and exciting. massive, open-world adventures and RPGs with epic, sweeping stories very often also allow you the opportunity to customize the living space or wardrobe of your main character, play minigames to earn money and prizes, or pursue smaller sidequests to build relationships with friends or lovers or just to help someone out. start a business! care for pets! grow flowers! hell, just take a nice walk if you want.
and if you listen to people talk about playing these games, you will often hear that they spent a great deal of time and energy on such tasks, sometimes much more than they ever spent on the main story or the bigger quests. given the choice, it seems, people are just as often drawn to the smaller things, even in games that also offer the sort of thing that seems like much more conventional wish-fulfillment. certainly I can attest to this. in Minecraft, a game where you can build enormous castles or terraform entire continents, I have spent many enjoyable hours instead building a small farm or a lakeside cottage. Breath of the Wild is a game where you play as a legendary hero reawoken to battle an ancient and terrible foe that has devastated your entire kingdom and sure, I took on that quest, but I did it in-between spending a lot more time gathering ingredients for cooking, feeding apples to my beloved horse, or taking pictures of birds. as soon as Pokemon offered the chance to take a break from becoming a master trainer of cool, powerful creatures to give those creatures head scritches and feed them cupcakes, you can bet I grabbed that opportunity with both hands.
why do we so often choose to do smaller, even ordinary, things, in these situations where it is just as easy, if not easier, to do great, big, awe-inspiring, impressive ones? when given the chance to be a hero of great renown wielding a sword of legends to save the entire world, why do I so often put doing that off to instead enjoy riding my horse through a sunny meadow? would you not expect the thing that I could never do in real life to hold more appeal and draw than something entirely possible, even ordinary?
well, that's obviously a hell of a deep psychological rabbit hole to go down, but I think part of it is this: games have a way of removing hidden obstacles. alright, and not-so-hidden obstacles, sure. if we look back at the Animal Crossing example, some of the obstacles the game removes are very. obvious. your loans have no interest or deadline, no consequence for failure. making money requires no resume, no qualifications, no applications, no stress, no fuss, nothing more than a butterfly net or fishing rod and some time to spare, at most. there are no taxes, no global warming, no troubling political news.
but there are smaller obstacles shaved off here and there as well. in the world of Animal Crossing it is not just big things that become more accessible, but also day to day things which in real life are often rendered accessible to achieve, but not to enjoy, because of the difficulties attached to them.
let's take gardening. a few posts back I talked about my own personal troubles with gardening: that it was something I did find enjoyment in, but also struggled with a great deal because ADHD presented so many challenges to doing it that I came to believe it was something I was simply inherently and permanently bad at. in Animal Crossing, on the other hand, most of those challenges don't exist. when you go to buy a plant, you always know exactly what it is. its needs are simple and straight-forward, and if the game doesn't tell you them then you can surely find them laid out clearly and easily with a quick visit to any of dozens of wikis and game info sites. there are clear signals included to help you carry out what you need to do. you can tell if you've watered a flower because it will sparkle. you can tell if a tree won't grow where you're trying to plant it, because the game will tell you so.
the gardening in Animal Crossing specifically is very simplistic. but it offers to you, and keeps, a promise which even games with more complicated requirements keep: here are the steps, here is the list of what you need to do, and if you do it right, something will grow, and grow well.
of course this also takes away some of the things that make the whole pastime worthwhile in real life. there is no sensation of digging your fingers into rich dirt, no fresh crop to pick and eat right off the stem. and seeing a pixel plant sprout and grow in stages will never quite compare to watching something very real and alive grow from a seed that you planted yourself. yet still I find distinct enjoyment in walking between the plots of my virtual garden in Animal Crossing, in raising virtual flowers and watching them bloom.
with some video games, I find the wish fulfillment to be as straight-forward as that: the emulation of an activity I want to do in real life, but find to be more difficult than enjoyable because of the obstacles associated with it. sometimes it's less direct. I have always enjoyed simulation and management games, games about building, cultivating, growing, raising, developing. but I've found myself particularly drawn to them over the past few years. building cities or kingdoms, running a large farm, managing a theme park or a zoo--there's great appeal there for me, even though I've never longed to pursue city planning or business management in the real world. but when things have felt at their most stagnant and hopeless, when I have felt unable to find any sign of progression or improvement in my own life, I have found comfort in being able to watch something grow, to put work in and see the results clear and apparent before me, however ephemeral those results are.
for me, I find that most often, the obstacles removed by doing something in a game mostly relate to the same thing: the struggle of planning, organizing and carrying out tasks, which is so often made so much easier when laid out for me as it is in a video game. it's a common criticism about some video games--sometimes, about the entire concept of video gaming--that playing them is essentially a matter of watching numbers go up. and, well, you've got me. it's true. I do like seeing numbers go up. I like seeing progress bars fill and skills unlock and quest objectives with check marks next to them. I like it because it's not something I get to experience much in real life: that sense of concrete progression, of knowing what I need to do and in what order I need to do it, of some acknowledgment and achievement for completing a task--yes, even if it is only a number going up! even if it is only a small cosmetic change, a new coat for my character, a section of map filling out, a pixel flower blooming on a pixel stem. better that than no sense of progress. better that than never really feeling sure if I've accomplished anything at all.
this is not something I always knew about myself. I've always liked video games, certainly, but thinking about the enjoyment I get out of them has gone hand in hand with learning more about how my own brain works. it's not only that video games can remove obstacles; by doing so, they can reveal to you that there were obstacles in places you never before realized. and there's value in that, I think. because sometimes it can show you that a problem you thought was in one place was actually in another place altogether. if something you think of as being boring, mundane, dull and exhausting becomes something you are willing and able to spend a lot of time and energy on, and get enjoyment out of, when it is framed in a different way--it may follow that the problem was not, as you thought, with the thing itself. the problem was in the obstacles around it.
of course, that's not always the case. the act of doing something in a game is often so thoroughly divorced from any semblance of doing it in real life that enjoying one has no bearing on enjoying the other. we play lots of games centered around doing things that most of us would never have any desire to do in real life. but sometimes it can lead you to discover that you enjoy things you didn't think you enjoyed, or are capable of doing things you didn't think you could do.
if nothing else, I think every single Animal Crossing island currently being developed, being visited, being joyfully and proudly shared online is evidence in the case against the idea that people fundamentally don't want to work and won't work if they don't have to. as is every painstakingly constructed Minecraft world, every Stardew Valley farm, every virtual city intricately planned, every virtual business budget carefully managed, every kingdom saved and map fully explored and character fully leveled and kitted out. because you don't do those things without putting time and concentration and effort into it. you just can't. it's not possible.
I think video games have a lot to tell us: about obstacles, and about effort, and about ourselves. some obstacles are incontrovertible, certainly. there are things built into the world which we can circumvent in video games but cannot, with all the best will in the world, change in our real lives. some things are always going to be more appealing virtually. my difficulties with gardening, for example, are always going to exist in some fashion because I cannot change the nature of how plants work. but knowing that something is an obstacle for you, and identifying why it is, can go a long way toward helping you figure out how to navigate around that obstacle, even if you can't remove it.
and sometimes when you realize that something is an obstacle, you realize that it doesn't need to be. that doesn't always translate to being able to do anything about it, of course. I doubt anyone needed Animal Crossing to tell them that home loans would be easier to repay without interest, and yet here we are. but I think there are a lot of things which we just sort of assume have to be difficult and boring and tiring and just thoroughly unenjoyable, because it is simply the nature of that thing, or the nature of us as people. nothing to do about it, just the way the world works.
sometimes that may be true. but surely not always.
I don't know.
but I will tell you this: by god, be proud of your virtual gardens.
they have worth.
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