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princessbrunette · 3 months

Note

since you wanted dealer JJ!!

what about dealer JJ who always lowers the price of the weed or pre rolled joints, sometimes not even letting you pay and you're all confused and wide eyed because "I can't just get this for free jayj,that would be mean of me". But he lets her pay in another way....

yk,a way that gets her on with her legs over his shoulder. Even better if they're in the car!! 😼😼

-🥞

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

“if you don’t mind me asking, do you sleep with all of your clients that don’t have the cash?” you blink, sat on the pull out bed inside jj’s odd little shack that he dealt from. the bed was more comfortable than it looked, his room moderately messy as you observe it— sticking out like a sore thumb in your little mini skirt and shoulder bag tucked beneath your arm.

“all my other customers are dudes so no— thank you.” he rifles around in his drawers, searching for the particular pink grinder he’d purchased to impress you, releasing a quiet ‘aha’ when he finds it, bringing it to his little work station. “look, i don’t mind if you shoot me down n’call me a perv or whatever. it kinda just slipped out, not gonna lie — cos you’re like the finest girl that’s ever wanted to buy from me and i figured we could cut ourselves a little deal you know? make eachother feel good.” he rambles as he quickly packs the blunt, expert fingers stuffing the herb into the rolling paper and folding everything over with ease, clearly doing this multiple times a day. the way he moved with such ease stirred something within you and you run your tongue lightly along your bottom lip as you watch.

you figured he’d be kind of slutty, just from his general demeanour and from the fact he’s a cute guy selling weed— surely a hit for drunk girls at house parties. also the fact that he’d opened the door to you wearing brown dickie overalls with no shirt on beneath them and a backwards cap— the whole outfit just screaming that he knew what he was doing from the start.

“i don’t know, i feel dirty.” you smile. not uncomfortable or awkward, just pensive. he licks the rolling paper, sealing everything by rolling it between his fingers before turning around to face you, presenting the joint.

“then you can totally forget i said anything, fine by me. just uh— take this one, on the house. yeah?”

“i’ll get you the money.” you refuse with a bashful smile, rolling your eyes as you stand, taking the joint from his coarse fingers and letting him walk you towards his rickety front door.

“aaaand i’ll tell you that you can keep it.” he retorts, making you turn around and face him on his porch with a hand on your hip.

“you’re a dealer. this is your job.”

he shrugs, pressing his lips together in a determined smile and you soften, swaying on the spot for a moment as you stare at him. god, he was really cute.

“did you really mean what you said about letting me have anything for free if i let you ‘take a peek’”you quote his boyish words. it didn’t creep you out, the two of you having gained a real trust and friendship over the course of your visits, and plus he’d been around when you were growing up. he gets visibly embarrassed, sliding his cap off his head with a tight, dimpled smile and looking away from your big doe eyes that seemed to be glued to him.

“honestly, it was just a dumb ass joke i let slip and i thought you’d just tell me to shut up or something but instead you started considering it so i figured i’d just… see where it goes cos… you’re— well, it’s not like i’d turn you down i mean damn… a-anyway the point is— just ignore me. i’m a guy and i say stupid shit all the time. i’m sorry.” he’s off like a motor, barely stopping to draw in breath or lick his rubied lips, for someone who was apparently a stoner he really did speak fast.

you blink, taking in all of his words for a moment — letting your brain catch up. the sun was going down beside you, casting a beautiful warmth to your face that made this conversation all the more harder for him. he cringes during the silence, squinting into the sunset because he’d rather look at that than face your judgement.

“what if i wanna?” its barely a whisper, but it sucks his gaze right back in.

“you— like you wanna—”

“i’ll still get you the money… but… it’s not like i haven’t thought about it before.”

he’s dumbfounded, but once he’s gotten over the initial shock, it’s not long before the suns gone down and you’re back in his bedroom, pull out bed creaking and mattress springs popping whilst he rocks into you— already surprisingly and skilfully having made you cum around his fingers first.

“theeere you go. there you go now, you— you feelin’ good? wanna make you feel so fucking good.” he pants, rolling his hips as you mewl, a fistful of his blonde knotted locks.

“mm— mhm, never wanna see anyone else jj, feels so good.”

“you better not, oh this pussies mine now.”

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

#🥞 anon #jj maybank prompt #dealer!jj

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bella-rose29 · 5 months

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Pretty

Anthony Lockwood x gn!reader

requested by anon: Saw your post about Lockwood ideas so here's one! Reader and Lockwood have an extremely close call on a case and in the heat of the moment, Lockwood ends up kissing the reader.

Made this one gn since no gender was specified! hopefully I haven't messed up anywhere with that (pls let me know tho)

I am also so so sorry about how long this took anon 😭 I have nobody to blame but myself for that I won't lie

lockwood has his tea like Cameron and I'm convinced it's a fact

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: swearing, they fight some visitors

Tag list: @anathemaloren, @augustisintheair, @avdiobliss, @dangelnleif, @el-de-phi, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @informedimagining, @karensirkobabes, @mischivana, @mitskiswift99, @mrsklockwood, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @ran23sblog, @superpositvecloudshipper, @t2sh0, @taygrls, @tournesol77, @wandamaximoffbae, @whenselenefallsinlove, @wordsarelife

As always, let me know here if you'd like to be added to/removed from my Lockwood and Co tag list, or send me a message! <3

(not my image, also I'm fully aware of how many times I use this one)

"Hey, I've just put the kettle on, d'you want tea?" Lucy chirped as Y/n entered the kitchen, paperwork in hand. They nodded gratefully, shoving the papers onto the table and flopping in a chair. "What's all that for?" Lucy asked, gesturing to the multiple files now scattered in front of Y/n.

"The case tonight. Lockwood's refusing to help me with the research, the little shit. Says he's got 'important business' to go on, whatever that means." They frowned, remembering how he'd been essentially ignoring them all day. "Did I do something to upset him?" they asked Lucy, looking up at the girl.

"Don't think so. Why?"

"Don't know. Just, he hasn't talked to me all day, so I-" Y/n was cut off by Lucy's snort of laughter, and their frown deepened. "What?! Why are you laughing?!"

"He hasn't talked to you all day? God, just tell him you like him already!"

Y/n flushed at her words, and threw a scrunched up piece of paper at Lucy. "Shut up," they mumbled, crossing their arms and slouching in their chair. Lucy only laughed more, handing over a cup of tea and sitting down next to her friend as she started to rifle through the papers. "What are you doing?"

"Helping you out, silly. If Lockwood won't do it, I will. You'll be so unprepared otherwise, and I can't have my best friend dying yet."

"Thanks, Luce."

"Sure," she shrugged, studying a news article. "Dunno why you like him though. He can be a monumental tw-"

"Hi Lucy, Y/n," Lockwood said, stepping through the door with carrier bags in his hands. He looked at them, wondering why they were suddenly quiet when he'd heard the two of them talking before he walked in, but when he saw the kettle boiled on the side that was ready for him to make his tea to his liking he forgot all about it. Dumping the bags, he moved to the cupboards and reached for the honey, pouring the right amount into the mug. Lockwood heard the scrape of a chair and a whispered protest as he added the white sugar (one teaspoon), and turning around he found Lucy getting up to leave and Y/n tugging on her arm and begging her to stay. Lucy had a wicked grin, though, and in one swift movement she'd unhanded herself from Y/n and skipped out of the door, and a moment later her footsteps could be heard on the stairs.

Y/n was glaring at the door, as if it would bring Lucy back to the kitchen, but when Lockwood sat down next to them with his cup of tea in one hand and the deft fingers of his other picking up a pile of papers, their expression immediately softened.

"Glad you finally felt you could grace the plebs with your presence, my lord," they joked, hoping he would apologise for being absent all day. He cracked a smile, shaking his head as he chuckled.

"Can't be around all the time, can I? You'll boost my ego too much."

"I would argue we reign your ego in. Honestly, I'm suffocating on it right now." Their eyes were wide in mock frankness, making Lockwood laugh more. "Seriously though," Y/n said when he'd calmed down a little. "Where were you?" They tried to not sound too hurt, but Lockwood picked up on it like he always did.

"I told you, I had important business-"

"What 'important business', Lockwood? Because I've had to do this research on my own, and there's way too much of it!" He at least had the good grace to look sheepish, scratching the back of his neck and mumbling something into his tea. George entered the kitchen then, pausing whatever conversation Y/n and Lockwood had been having. He stood in the doorway, picking up on the strange atmosphere but not knowing what to do about it, and shook his head as he went to make a sandwich. None of them talked, and George kept casting the two of them weird looks as he moved around the kitchen, looking like he wanted to say something but never getting that far, until eventually he finished making his lunch and left, closing the door with a soft click (and a loud protest from the hinges) behind him. Y/n had turned back to their papers, attempting to read over the documents and figure out the history of the building before they headed out for the evening. "Are you at least gonna help me now?" they sighed, looking back up at him. He nodded, washing out the mug of tea that he'd downed in the last few minutes.

They sat in silence for a while after that, only talking when one of them found something interesting or worth making note of. Lockwood stopped rifling through papers at one point, file limp in his hand while he studied his coworker. "I'm sorry," he said, and although his voice was quiet it startled Y/n. "I just- I know I'm difficult sometimes- okay, fine, a lot of the time," he amended at Y/n's raised eyebrows. "But I really did have important business to attend to. I was stocking up on equipment for tonight. Not much, just a couple of flares."

"And that took you the whole day? George has only just come down for lunch and it's three in the afternoon."

"I was also..." he sighed through his nose, irritation flitting across his face. "I was also getting this," he said, rushing the words as he yanked something out of his jacket pocket. How he'd ever got the item in there in the first place Y/n had no clue, since they weren't aware of Lockwood having pockets that large.

"What is it?" they asked, skeptical of the rectangular object they now held. It had been expertly wrapped, with a nice little bow on the front, and when Lockwood simply gestured for them to open it they peeled the paper off, revealing the book inside. "Is this-"

"Took me ages to find a store that had it. I know how much you've been obsessing about getting it so I figured since I was out I might as well. I didn't realise how long it would take though, and I didn't exactly want to admit that to you either."

"Lockwood, you really didn't have to do-"

"Shush, or I'll return it." That shut them up, making them clutch the book close to their chest as if to prevent him from taking it away. "Come on. We've got work to do."

~~~

Half an hour later Lockwood was making another cup of tea for both of them, laughing as Y/n complained about some of the details (or lack thereof) in the building plans.

"I mean, there's an entire room that just... doesn't exist on the floor plans, even though we went to the house! How does that happen? It's not even an extension- oh, thank you," they were interrupted when Lockwood passed them their mug, hot tea warming Y/n's hands as they gripped the beverage. His hand lingered on the handle a moment longer than was necessary, his gaze catching on theirs, and Y/n held their breath when their fingers brushed. Lockwood seemed to snap out of whatever daze he was in, jerking his arm back, clearing his throat, and shuffling over to his own seat.

It was weird; they'd brushed past each other on the stairs and had curled up next to each other on sofas before, and held (very limited) eye contact every day (it was awkward holding it for more than a few seconds, even with Lockwood), so why was this time any different?

They spent the next few hours in more silence, the atmosphere mildly awkward as they worked, and by the time they pulled up to the house in the back of the taxi not long before sundown Y/n thought they might burst from the sheer amount of tension they could feel.

They had always been an overthinker, analysing minuscule details that, in reality, probably didn't matter, but for some reason stuck in Y/n's head for months after. It didn't help that they had feelings for Lockwood, since it made every touch or lingering glance have a stronger effect on their overthinking tendencies, and very often took them out of the real world and into their own head.

Which was unfortunate when they needed to be very much in the real world to fight Visitors.

In fairness, the man that owned the property had told them (with a shocking amount of certainty) that there were two Type Ones, one Shade and one Lurker, and while Y/n was inclined to disagree that he knew best, Lockwood was flashing a winning smile and grasping the keys, assuring the owner that Type Ones were nothing the pair of them couldn't handle.

They set up their chains and defences, did an initial reading of the whole house (the stairs came back as the coldest at nine degrees, with the upstairs family bathroom a close second at ten - worrying for the early hour), then returned to the kitchen and put the kettle on, cracking open a packet of biscuits.

"Are you sure about what he said? I mean he's what, late thirties to early forties? How reliable is he for identifying Type Ones if he won't be able to see them?"

"Look, we have no reason to distrust hi-"

"I literally just gave a reason."

"Okay, fine. No reason to distrust him yet. Everything we've seen so far from our initial readings is pointing to Type Ones, and we're Lockwood and Co. This isn't anything we can't handle." Y/n had been about to protest again, to say something about how the stairs and bathroom really shouldn't have been so cold this early on, but then he had smiled at them, one reserved purely for his friends, and they melted, all thoughts of danger gone out of their head.

Perhaps they should have fought harder against him, or perhaps they shouldn't have become too wrapped up in the moments from the kitchen earlier, but either way they didn't notice the Limbless until it had nearly pushed its misshapen body through their head.

~~~

Lockwood had shoved them out the way, their bodies rolling over each other as they tumbled down the hallway, the air shifting as the Limbless soared over them.

Lockwood ended up on top, his body shielding Y/n's, and he lifted his head up from where it had previously been in their neck, asking a desperate "Are you okay?" They nodded in response, too shaken to do much else, and then Lockwood was up, yanking their arm to pull them up beside him as he drew his rapier. Y/n did the same, hands trembling slightly as they finally registered the miasma that felt like it was suffocating them.

"Limbless, but we can handle that. You getting anything that can help?" He was referencing Y/n's Touch, but when they pressed their hand to the bannister experimentally the feeling of fear that washed over them was so strong they stumbled back, bumping into Lockwood.

"Shit, that was not fun," they said, grimacing at the headache they could already feel forming. "We can't use flares, Lockwood, it's too cramped in here. We're gonna have to draw it away if we can, then find the Source. It's got to be the stairs somehow, I just can't figure it out."

"Okay. Here's the plan," he started, but Y/n was unfocused, staring down the hallway over his shoulder.

"Lockwood?"

"You figure out where the Source is, I'll hold it off-"

"Lockwood?"

"-and then we'll be out of here and back home with a cup of tea within the hour."

"LOCKWOOD!"

"What? Why are you shou-"

Y/n grabbed his face in both of their hands, pushing him around to see what was behind him.

"Shit," he said, paling. Where there had only been a single Limbless to deal with before, the number of Visitors had gone up, with Shades and Lurkers that the owner had mentioned earlier joining the now two Limbless that were hovering at the end of the hallway. The feeling of miasma was washing over the two of them like a tidal wave, and Y/n pressed a hand to their mouth to try and stop throwing up. "We can still do this?" he said, although it sounded more like a question than an inspirational chat to his teammate.

"Lockwood, we need to just go. There's no way we can do this on our own, your pride be damned."

"Okay, okay. We'll collect as much of our kit as we can then, a lot of it is new and I don't want it being wasted. Do you think you're up for it? You look very ill," he frowned, concern for Y/n working its way into every movement of his body.

"Can't we just ditch the kit and get out?"

"As much as I'd love to, we are incredibly under equipped right now and have to pass through the kitchen anyway. We'd do well to have a few extra supplies on us, don't you think?" His voice was gentle, nothing condescending about his question, and Y/n found themselves nodding when he searched their eyes for an answer. His whole body relaxed, and then he was grabbing their hand and slowly retreating towards the kitchen, hoping not to alert the Visitors to their presence.

They were doing well, nearly past the kitchen threshold, up until Lockwood brushed his thumb over the back of Y/n's hand and they stumbled slightly, scuffing their foot on the floorboards and kicking a cabinet.

The Limbless (both of them) snapped their bloated heads to face the two agents, and Lockwood and Y/n only had a brief second to share a look when the ghosts came soaring towards them before he was tugging them into the kitchen, slamming the door behind them and rushing past the counter.

"Pick up what you can, anything to defend yourself with!" he shouted, wheeling around to grab a bag. They made a move towards the iron chains and added a ring to the circle that they'd already made, doubling up the strength of the invisible wall, then dragged in the kit they could reach and stood within the circle.

"Lockwood! Get in here!"

He made a mad dash for them, eyes wide and face flushed from the cold that was now creeping in to the kitchen. "Okay, what now? We'll be protected for a little while but we can't stay for-"

"Calm down, alright? We can sort out our kit in here, quickly, and then use the back door just there. We might have to leave some of these chains behind though, they're pretty heavy."

"Temperature's dropped significantly. That's not a good sign. Do you think there are more hauntings in here?"

"I wouldn't put it past this place. Besides, it's eleven. The others all came out quite early." They crouched down, starting to work methodically through the bags, but Lockwood stayed standing.

"What would I do without you, hey?"

Y/n tried not to flush at the compliment, remembering that the previous two times they'd been caught up in analysing everything that happened between the two of them they'd invoked danger, and continued going through the bags. "Can you help please? Instead of standing there like a lemon."

It took them five minutes to finish up, bags being zipped and thrown over shoulders, belts checked for stock and rapiers drawn. They would have to leave the chains behind, which was a shame, but necessary if they wanted to be able to move quickly. "On three?" Lockwood asked, glancing over his shoulder to check with Y/n. They nodded, bracing themselves for the run. Lockwood started counting down, and just as he said "Three" the kitchen door blew off its hinges.

~~~

"Shit! Go!" A Poltergeist, manifesting in the kitchen and manipulating the room if the many knives that were now floating in the air were anything to go by. The back door was only a couple of metres away, but the real question was whether they could outrun the blades.

They almost did, launching themselves out the exit and slamming the door shut behind them, and Lockwood breathed a sigh of relief until he saw the blood on Y/n's arm. "It's fine," they said when they caught him looking, moving away from the door. "We should get out of here."

He didn't say anything, instead sheathing his rapier and dropping the bag he was holding to grab Y/n's face and kiss them. Y/n almost dropped their own things, about to reach up and draw him in further, but he was pulling back before they could, picking up the kit and moving away from the house. "Come on! We need to find a taxi!" Y/n stood gaping at his retreating form before they heard the wailings of some of the Visitors inside and quickly followed after him.

~~~

The taxi ride home was awkward.

Lockwood wasn't looking at Y/n, and they were starting to feel increasingly uncomfortable with the amount of silence that enveloped the two of them.

"I'm sorry," Lockwood said, making Y/n jump slightly even though his voice was quiet.

"...What for?"

"For- I shouldn't have- I- For kissing you." He still wasn't looking at them, so he couldn't see the stifled smile on their face.

"It's okay, Lockwood."

"No, I should have just got us out of there instead of- I put us in danger and that was stupid of me," he turned to face them, expression earnest. "And I don't even know how you..." he trailed off, blushing.

"It wasn't... I wouldn't mind doing it again, if that's... where you're going?" Y/n was surprised at the confidence they had to admit that, given how bad they were normally at expressing their feelings for him. Lockwood blushed slightly, his cheeks tinted pink, and his eyes widened.

"Uh- okay," he said, hiding his smile behind his hand as he braced his elbow on the door. "Are you sure you're okay? You're bleeding a lot."

"I'm sure it's fine. I think it's only shallow, and most of the blood is dried now. If it'll make you feel better you can bandage me up when we get back."

"Okay. I'll put the kettle on, too. I really need a cup of tea right now."

~~~

True to his word, Lockwood put the kettle on the stove and grabbed two mugs out of the cupboard before heading to the bathroom for the medical kit. He then patched Y/n's arm up (who was right about it only being shallow, but that didn't stop Lockwood fussing over them), concentrating far more than he needed to but taking his time with the dressing in a way that made Y/n's heart flutter at his attentiveness.

Now they sat at the kitchen table with steaming mugs of tea, a plate of biscuits between them as they talked about both everything and nothing, the sun rising and casting the kitchen in a golden light. At some point Lucy appeared, making herself her own cup of tea and heading back upstairs to the attic afterwards, murmuring a sleepy 'morning' to her friends as she shut the door behind her.

Y/n shut their eyes, soaking in the freshly made cup of tea (Lucy had made a large pot for the three of them) and the small warmth that the sun pouring through the window provided. They could feel Lockwood watching them, and sure enough when Y/n cracked an eye open he was focused on them, a soft smile on his face while he sipped his tea. "What?" they asked, a smile of their own forming.

"Nothing. You just look really... really pretty."

"Pretty?" Y/n asked, and Lockwood blushed a little, spluttering as he tried to explain himself.

"I don't know how else to describe you! I can come up with something else if you'd prefer, I just thought it fit! You know, with the light on your face and you looked really peaceful and lovely and..." he trailed off into unintelligible mumbles, turning to stare at the thinking cloth instead of Y/n's face as his blush grew brighter. They laughed in response, leaning forward across the small space between them to grab Lockwood by the tie and pull him in for a kiss. It was short and sweet, but still left the two of them breathless and flushed, and the resultant smile on Lockwood's face was well worth the amount of nervous butterflies in Y/n's stomach.

"You're pretty too, Lockwood."

#lockwood and co #anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood x reader #lockwood & co #anthony lockwood x you

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tinalilith1 · 9 months

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Picture-Perfect Pages: A Deep Dive into the Charm of Rifle Paper Co.’s Notebooks

There’s no denying that the charming and decorative Rifle Paper notebooks are instantly recognisable among the competition, with several unique elements that make them truly special.

#eco friendly #notebooks #rifle paper co #rifle paper notebooks

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sleepnoises · 1 year

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Happy "Me-Made May" which is mainly an Instagram thing but I like here better

I made these pants in 2020 or 2021 from the Papercut Palisades pattern out of Rifle Paper Co. quilting cotton; they are the first pair of pants I ever made! The seam finish quality is quite bad in part because I got them to wearable, initially hated the fit, and then kept wearing them without remembering to fully finish the seam... but on the other hand, the print is so busy you can't really notice a small hole. They are extremely comfy.

The hoodie was a loan from a friend and I mended a hole in it for her, but haven't given it back, so kind of mixed success as a loving gesture.

Haircut also DIY which is why it is a little silly right now

I absolutely have not made enough things to do the whole May. But maybe more May nevertheless!

#sew tag

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darklordofthesimp · 2 years

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Proximity (Din Djarin x Reader)

A self-defense lesson with a Mandalorian was not your idea of fun, especially when he had a habit of toying with you.

Requested By Anon: #70 You're really close right now

A/N: There's always sexual tension during training, isn't there? I really am sorry this is not the best quality. I struggled with inspo and motivation for this one, it was painful to write lol.

Category: Mutual Pining, Sexual Tension

Warnings: Swearing, Violence, Suggestive Themes

"I'm not good at this."

"That's why we're doing it."

"Because I'm not good?"

"So you can get good."

Your heart was racing and you hadn't even begun the session. The tell-tale signs of anxiety were everywhere: the dryness of your mouth, the uneven breathing, and your trembling fingers. It was a strange thing, how the body could anticipate something like that. You hated it.

"Come on," the Mandalorian's voice was low- as if he thought that if he spoke too loud, you'd run off. He was half-right, you were definitely considering it. Who wouldn't?

No one wanted to fight the likes of Din.

Especially not you.

"This isn't my job," you hissed, taking a backward pace towards the ship. "This is yours, actually."

The bounty hunter stared at you for a long moment. You knew why he wanted you to do this, he needed the comfort of mind. Those times when he'd leave you in the ship alone, armed with nothing but a blaster and a farewell nod, it would plague him.

"It's everyone's job to know how to defend themselves," Din rasped, unbuckling the strap on his shoulder. The rifle framing his back sagged and he leaned it against a nearby boulder.

"This isn't fair," you were beginning to panic, now. "You're a big-ass Mandalorian in a shell of impenetrable armor with decades of training."

He nodded dismissively as he removed the jetpack, lowering it gently to sit by his weapon.

"I'm a mechanic," you said simply. "I don't want to get hurt right now, I want to go fix the rust bucket."

Din straightened, finally finishing the offload of his personal arsenal. The sunlight glinted off his visor, temporarily blinding you. Rubbing your eyes with a soft curse, you were startled to find him close when you recovered.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he negotiated softly, "you need this."

"I don't need to get body-slammed," you snapped.

"If you're afraid now, how do you think you'll go when someone is actually trying to kill you?"

He was getting frustrated with your lack of co-operation. You could hear it in the lilt of his voice, the sudden husk of his words. It made you shiver, you didn't want to be riling up someone who was teaching you to fight.

You had always relied on him for your protection just as he had relied on you for your technical abilities. The difference was that he knew enough about your trade to stop his ship from falling out of the sky, whereas, you couldn't fight your way out of a wet paper bag.

"If you punch me," you pointed a shaky finger to his chest, "I will wire the Crest to self-ignite."

"Deal."

With that damning statement, he gripped you by the shoulders.

You blinked at him, nervously sinking into his hold. That was quick, although you weren't sure why you had expected a warning. Was he about to throw you? Headbutt you? Squeeze you to death?

To your surprise, it was none of the above. Rather, the hunter simply stood unmoving. It was as though he was almost... expectant.

"Well?" He jostled you lightly in his grip. "What would you do?"

You stared at him owlishly.

There was a sigh, his fingers dipping into the skin of your shoulders. You were pushing his buttons without trying and for once you were too afraid to take advantage of it.

"If somebody did this to you, how would you handle it?" Mando clarified.

Oh. You bit your lip as your mind raced to answer his question. You knew a little from your days before the bounty hunter, although you weren't sure it would do much against him.

When you opened your mouth to explain, the Mandalorian shook his head.

"Show me," he said.

You did what you remembered: a simple maneuver that had you pushing at the insides of his arms. To your relief, he let go and allowed you to carry out your plans. Reversing the roles, you snatched his hands beneath your biceps, and once he was trapped, you raised your knee in the pretense of a groin kick.

"Good," Mando nodded, fingers resting against your back. You quickly let him go. The training was a lot gentler than you had expected, and although it was a pleasant surprise, your companion had a wicked sense of humor. You rarely got to see it, but when you did, you were generally the butt of the joke.

"The aim is to get away," Din said, casually stepping into your space. "Don't stick around to fight."

You surrendered some ground, inching backward in the face of his approach. You didn't want him too close, purely based on the lack of reaction time you would be given. "Really?" You snarked quietly, "I think I could take you."

There was a surprised chuckle from beneath the helmet, so short you would have missed it had you not been so hyperaware of his presence.

"Yeah?" He teased you softly, walking you backward with slow strides.

"Yeah," you breathed.

"Come here, then." Din tilted his head.

"Nope," you wheezed, "no, I think I'm good."

He said nothing, offering only a small nod. The hunter made a show of looking over your shoulder and you felt a cold sweat trickle down your spine.

You should have been looking behind you, should have been aware of your surroundings. Had you not been so distracted by the man in front of you, you would have noticed that he'd been backing you towards a boulder.

Your breath was knocked from your lungs when your body made contact, the fabric of your clothes snatching against the rough rock. This wasn't a good spot to be in. Whatever was coming next would either be painful or humiliating and you sighed.

A quick glance over your shoulder confirmed that you wouldn't be able to simply walk around it. The obstacle was as wide as it was tall.

You made no attempt to move as the Mandalorian approached, where could you go? You'd concede to this loss and maybe he'd let you return to your actual job. But, instead, you realized he was toying with you, moving with the same torturously slow pace.

"Always be aware of your surroundings," he said with an arrogant shrug.

"You distracted me." You snapped, anxiety crawling from your stomach to your chest. You had no reason to be afraid, he wouldn't hurt you and you knew it. There was just something in the way that he walked, a demeanor you'd never seen before.

You wonder if you had mistaken a very different feeling for fear.

"I seem to do that a lot," the words were honeyed, suspiciously so.

The urge to close your eyes in anticipation was strong when he finally came to a stop in front of you. Settling for a squint, you flinched as he raised his hand to your neck.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he murmured roughly, "but if this was real you'd be dead."

"That's not fair," you huffed, framing the statement with a sardonic laugh. "You haven't even given me a scenario to work with yet."

You'd barely finished your sentence when he moved.

A hard boot kicked the inside of your foot, forcing you to widen your stance. The cold, hard beskar of his thigh pressed against the inside of your legs, pressuring them to remain open.

A sharp gasp fell involuntarily from your lips when his hand raised to rest against the base of your neck. Your eyes squeezed shut, grimacing as you held his wrist instinctively. His grip was soft, almost a caress, but the warning twitch of his fingers indicated that he would squeeze if needed.

The hunter's other hand settled against your waist, fingers digging firmly into the curve of your body. Another silent announcement that he could make it really hurt if he'd wanted to.

"Better?" He asked roughly against your ear. Your eyes shot open, chest heaving as you assessed his position. The inky black of his visor was barely a couple of inches from your face and your nose brushed against the metal of his helmet.

"You're really close right now," you blurted. The proximity made you dizzy, you would have swayed had he not been holding you so tightly. Both your hands gripped his wrist hard as he tightened his fingers fractionally before loosening again. The movement was almost playful and you knew then that he was enjoying this.

"I could be closer, Mesh'la," he murmured. He tugged at the hem of your shirt softly, slipping his touch to your skin. The leather of his gloves was cool against the raging warmth of your body.

You choked at the sensation.

"Are you flirting with me?" You whimpered disbelievingly. When you woke up this morning, nobody could have convinced you that this would be your afternoon.

"I'm trying to make you uncomfortable," he corrected.

"That's not the word I'd use, Din," you breathed.

There was a stunned silence and his fingers twitched against your skin. It was one of his tells, the small movement an easy way to assess his emotional state.

"How-" he cleared his throat, "how would you get out of this?"

"I wouldn't," you said simply.

"Why not?"

"You'd have never let anybody get this close," you rasped, watching him from beneath your lashes. You knew that wasn't what he was asking, not what this training session was for. In your defense, he had thrown that out the second he'd shoved himself in between your legs.

Your core tightened, pooling with a delicious heat that settled low. The pair of you had danced around your feelings for each other for so long, never approaching the topic but acknowledging it silently.

But Din had never been so bold before.

"What if I wasn't there?" He rebutted, tilting his head lightly. Your breath hitched in your throat as his thumb slowly stroked the skin of your side. "What if you were alone?"

"You're always there," you uttered lowly, the promise of a smile playing on the corner of your mouth.

"And what about now?" Din murmured, slowly pulling you to his chest. The hand around your throat lifted, skimming the skin of your neck to settle on your jaw. "How will you handle this?"

"Take me to the Crest and I'll show you."

With a knowing smirk, you hooked a finger into the bottom of his helmet. The digit was lost to the black abyss as you pulled him down.

#din djarin x reader #mandalorian x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x y/n #star wars #the mandalorian #din djarin x you #baby yoda #grogu

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atallephoculary · 20 days

Text

—- G o s p e l —

[ @extristitiavenit ]

Hope County was truly a beautiful place; the cascading mountains and rolling hills of fertile farmland seemed to stretch for miles and miles, disappearing into lines of thick spring pines that dotted the horizon. It seemed like it was such an idyllic place; Marion often found herself reminiscing about her childhood home in Baton Rouge, Louisiana whilst on her lunch breaks due to the overwhelming amount of very beautiful but very foreign scenery… A swampy transplant into an arid tundra, a fish out of water. Being sent all over the country was hard enough as it was, but never being able to stay in one place long enough to grow some roots was harder. It was always something- a new job, a boyfriend, loss of income— something- something- something… Deputy Fuller had hoped that a change of scenery into the God fearing farmlands would strike down whatever wandering roots that would grab soil. Maybe this could actually be the place she settled down and called it good. Maybe it was the place where she would live and die quietly after she finished with whatever dumb prospect this job was.

The station was quiet, though as usual there was a gentle chatter over the radio between squad cars and her co-workers idle conversations flowing through the air in a gentle hum while the air conditioning unit whirs quietly overhead. As nice as it was to have such down time, it did put a slight alarm through her. Could it be quiet here for longer than a day? Probably not- there was always something happening over the radio, with those Peggies meandering around the valley and mountains- the ‘Eden’s Gate’ project, or whatever.. She really didn’t care. It didn’t affect her life, (well- it did- it did so much she ended up in Hope County, Montana to fill in a position that was, in fact, permanently vacant); and the ways it did affect her were easily written off with a nice blunt and a cold drink at her small cabin after work. Quitting time was always on her mind- her hazy green hues darting over to the white bubble clock that hung over the dirty front door. 5:15 p.m.- another 15 minutes until she could clock out and head home… Outside, a caravan of white vehicles with that stupid cross painted on the sides of them head down the main thoroughfare- honking and blasting their music loud enough to be heard all the way inside the station offices- “Keep your rifle by our side!” The tune hangs high in the air like a flag, and soon the cacophony of tires and engines and guitars fade into the distance until there was nothing left but the gentle clicking of the clock and the hum of the air conditioner. Marion rolled her eyes, stretched her arms up above her head and let off a loud yawn; hands unceremoniously rubbing her face and pushing back her mess of black curly hair. What a boring day. Nothing but paperwork and emails, two phone calls from the F.A.N.G center and one from the Chief to keep an eye out for a package that may or may not show up. Again. What a thrilling job; (Junior) Deputy Sheriff and she may as well have been a fucking secretary.

Another shift, another day completed; clocking out with an actual time punch was always one of the best parts of the job, one of those ‘little things’ her therapist back in Los Angeles told her when she was in her early years of being on the force.. What a lifetime ago, freshly 18 and just wanting to do the right thing— a road to hell paved with the best of intentions.. The old machine reams the paper with a clunk and Marion is out the door with her bag and glasses in hand, headed out to the old Ford truck in the parking lot.. The sun was setting by now, the sky being painted in brilliant chunks of reds and oranges and pinks.. A nice view for the drive home too, tires whirring down the evenly paved road down into Holland Valley. Farm land, for miles and miles. At least, she thought, it didn’t stink like some parts of the country she had stayed in.. These people out here took good care of their livestock and it showed. When the engine of the trucks begun to rattle and almost scream with uncertainty, it made her flicker back to reality and ease off the road and onto the shoulder; smoke flooding from the hood of the car as the lever under her seat was pressed with trepidation and concern for how she was now going to get home.

Standing over the fried engine, lit cigarette between her lips and flashlight in her southpaw, she felt like a real tool standing out there in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere, nothing but trees and fields and cars that scooted by almost hurriedly as the night settled into the valley. Marion didn’t blame them- things tended to get sketchy at best when night came.

“Aaaah fuckin’… Ya’ piece of shit, perfect fuckin’ timing to die out on me huh. You juss’ loooooove causing me issues.” The bayou woman scoffed and slammed the hood down after settling on a diagnosis: Fried radiator and snapped belt, transmission broken. Absolute destruction. Leaning now with her back to the warmed metal of the hood, she idly flicks through her phone— no signal— no reach. There was nothing out here, and she wasn’t exactly able to take a radio from the station. That was priorly a write up. So with a scoff and a groan and a few more expletives, Marion cleared the cab of her belongings and shoved them unceremoniously into her leather backpack, turned off the lights and slammed the truck door closed with a thud. There was nothing now but the eerie silence and the air current moving through the trees- if she didn’t like the dark at home, she surely hated it when outside. There was a certain fear that comes with walking alone at night, but hopefully, hopefully, the 13 mile walk in almost pitch darkness wouldn’t be that bad.

#| Gospel of Baptism — John }#And we should. — Starters }#| @extristitiavenit }#(( || And awaaaaaayy we go! ))

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