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funnylittlelad · 2 years

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A Touch of Humanity - Din Djarin x gn!reader

re-edited (Feb. 2023)

Read on AO3 - Masterlist

Part I: Nabu

Part II | Part III

summary: Naboo isn't Din's favorite place in the galaxy. It doesn't even break his top ten. Grogu's ever-curious and troublemaking nature intertwines their lives with that of a local artist. Someone who is able to wrangle Grogu, comfort Din, and care for others without a second thought. Naboo isn't Din's favorite place in the galaxy, but with you around it was quickly becoming that way.

word count: 9.1k

tags/warnings: fluff, the timeline is what I say it is just go with it, Din deserves a #1 Dad mug, Grogu is a menace, gift giving is Din's love language, I used canonical places and history until there was no more to go off of and then made up my own to flesh it out, mentions of forgetting to eat, descriptions of food, slow burn

Naboo is humid this time of year. It’s muggy, damp, moist, all the worst things to be when it's so damn hot. It’s the type of boiling humidity that Din can feel creep across his skin under his armor. He absolutely hates having to come to Naboo. A planet ripe with swamps, cities full of holier-than-thou pompous people, and don’t get him started on the Gungans. Din swears he’s not prejudiced, but if one more Gungan tries having a conversation with him he's shooting first and asking questions later.

Sure, everyone else in the galaxy might see Naboo as this idyllic planet, but Din just can’t. The scenery is beautiful, he won't deny that. Having to chase down a bounty here, however, isn't quite as beautiful. Democracy and civil order are great. Until they interfere with him doing his job because some lowlife seeks asylum in Naboo’s lengthy court systems. Rendering them essentially untouchable unless he wants the entire Republic on his ass.

The only saving grace of this hellscape of a planet is the mountains. It's quieter up in the Gallo Mountains. The people aren't as nosy or judgemental. They tend to their crops, their children, and their homes while minding their business. Outsiders are welcome, but not doted on. Something Din can respect. Maybe it's the closer connection to their Grizmallti roots, but the people of Dee’ja Peak are much more palatable than those from the cities. Or the Gungans.

Even in this sticky heat, the people of Dee’ja Peak go about their business. The buildings are stout cylinders with round roofs. Public buildings are taller than residential ones. Windmills are scattered throughout the town, generating all the energy they need. Some smaller gardens are used for personal crops, but otherwise, there are tiered fields in the mountainous terrain where they grow what is needed for the season. A river flows along the southernmost border, the water a glittering blue. No doubt if Din were to follow it he would come upon a waterfall over the mountain’s edge.

He spots what he’s looking for. There’s a corral where the younger children are kept during the workday. A few people are assigned each day to care for them. Din knows there's no place safer on Naboo than Dee’ja Peak. There’s also likely no one as qualified to watch Grogu while Din goes digging for information on a former resident.

“Stay put,” he orders the child after placing him in the corral.

Grogu peers up at him, cooing.

“Go play, I’ll be back soon.”

Grogu observes his surroundings with anxious curiosity. Once he starts to amble off toward the other children, Din stalks off to the Inn. It’s a neutral-toned building with a couple of floors. The door slides open once it senses him. A middle-aged woman sits behind the counter reading a newspaper. She looks up with her eyes only when she hears the door.

“How many nights?” She asks, looking back at her paper.

“I’m not here for a room,” Din says.

This gets her to fully look up at him. She looks him up and down with a critical gaze. Unlike most other places, the people here never seem too put off or intimidated by his presence. Din honestly appreciates the tonal difference here from the rest of Naboo, the planet. Although every Naboo, the people, has Grizmallti ancestry, the Naboo tend to focus on their newer identity. A side effect of fleeing due to civil war.

The people in the mountains, though. They don't consider themselves Naboo. They consider themselves Grizmallti herds who live in the mountains of Nabu. Grizmallti herds use the original name given to Naboo, the name of the deity they once worshipped. All things Din has to remember when dealing with the different sides of the planet. Their differences are small but vital. Not offending anyone or ticking someone off makes Din’s life easier whenever he blows through. Working knowledge of the cultures is just part of the job.

“What are you here for then?” the woman asks him, jerking her chin up at him.

“I need information on Sola Pellis. I was told to come to you.”

“You were told wrong.”

Din measures the woman. There’s definitely a blaster holstered to the underside of the counter. Her joints are swollen from wear and tear meaning her movements will be slow.

“What are you getting for hiding her? I can double it,” he attempts.

The woman snorts.

“I’m not hiding anyone. Only people in here are paying me to sleep. I don't have anything for you about Sola.”

“But you know who she is.”

Newspaper abandoned on the countertop, the woman sighs.

“Look, I recognize you. I know why you’re looking for her. If I had any information, I'd give it to you. Sola is no friend of Dee’ja Peak, or Nabu.”

Din can tell she's being honest. A dead end. Great. Perfect. Tracking down Sola Pellis is proving to be a headache. One he isn't sure is worth the credits.

“Do you know of anyone who may have more information?”

“I know the last time she was seen she was disappearing into the thick woods to the west. If that's true, you can kiss your bounty goodbye,” the woman tells him, going back to her newspaper.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because no one goes into those woods and comes back. The Gungans avoid the core of Nabu because of the sea monsters. The Grizmallti avoid the thick woods for a similar reason,” her words are ominous, but her gaze doesn't leave the article she’s reading.

Din mutters a thank you and leaves. The cooled air of the Inn does nothing but make the outside even more unbearable. Dirt crunches beneath his boots. Chatter fills the air as the townspeople live their collective lives. When he arrives back at the corral Grogu is nowhere to be seen. Panic seeps in, but instinct takes over. There’s a break in the wood of the corral fence. One just big enough for the adventurous scamp to squeeze through.

A set of small three-toed footprints lead away from the corral. Din follows them. He can see a couple of scuffs where Grogu must have taken a tumble. No doubt he was running to avoid getting caught doing exactly what he wasn't supposed to be doing. The tracks lead to one of the many short cylindrical houses and end at the front door. With a sigh, Din knocks on the door. He’s more irritated with the kid than worried he’s in danger. In all his travels, he’s only ever come to this particular corner of Naboo for information. The seedy underbelly of the galaxy seems to steer clear of here. Like the whole galaxy has an unspoken but agreed-upon respect for Dee’ja Peak.

You open the door smiling over your shoulder. The smile falters as you take him in curiously. It only takes a second for realization to light up your face.

“You must be here for the little one,” your voice is as kind as your smile.

Din nods. You gesture for him to follow you inside. He does so cautiously. It’s a small space, but undoubtedly cozy. A couple of cushy-looking seats surround a small table. The kitchen is attached to the far curved wall, containing only the essentials. A stove, a fridge, a counter with three lower cabinets, and a sink. Grogu splashes around in the water in the sink. His clothes are folded on the counter. He coos and reaches out when he spots Din approaching.

“You’re giving him a bath,” Din states, just a hint of a question at the end.

“Yeah, he was covered in dirt and jelly. I hope you don't mind,” you say as you grab a dish towel to dry Grogu off.

“Jelly?”

“I think he smelled my jelly cakes and wandered over here. When I came out of the bathroom, he was laying on a plate of crumbs,” you chuckle.

Din turns his head so Grogu knows he’s giving him a disapproving stare. The kid gives him an innocent look in return.

“I’m sorry. I can pay you for them,” Din says.

You shake your head and wave him off as you wrap Grogu in the towel.

“No worries. He’s very sweet. Are you his father?” You smile as you redress the kid.

“In a way.”

You nod. When Grogu is once again dressed, you scoop him up. He happily coos as you make silly faces at him. Din is itching to get off this planet, but he doesn’t put a stop to it. Not for the first time, Din wonders if he’s doing the kid a disservice. He could tuck Grogu away somewhere here. Where it’s safe. At least, safer than anywhere else. The lonesome ache that ate at him when Grogu was with Luke comes back at the thought. Then the silent reminder that Grogu chose to live this life with him.

“Thank you for cleaning him up.”

You flash Din a smile that gives the scenery of Naboo a run for its money.

“It's really no problem. Like I said, he’s very sweet. Although, you should probably teach him not to wander into strangers’ homes. I know not everywhere is like here,” you give him a light lecture.

“I’m trying,” Din sighs.

Your smile turns sympathetic. With one last little boop of his nose, you hand Grogu off to Din. As you do so, you tell him your name. Din doesn’t return the favor, but you don't ask him to. You’ve seen him pass through before. No one knows his name. When parents are trying to scare their kids straight he’s the Man With The Metal Skin. To everyone else, he’s simply the Mandalorian.

“Who are you looking for this time?” you ask.

Din freezes as he looks at you. Only interest paints your features. His guard goes up.

“Why do you think I’m looking for someone?” he asks.

You quirk an amused smile.

“Believe it or not, not many bounty hunters come through here. Even less Mandalorians. People talk.”

He regards you for a moment longer.

“Sola Pellis. Do you know her?”

You go pale. Regardless of how you decide to answer, Din can tell the truth. You swallow around the lump that’s formed in your throat.

“I think we all know her.”

“Do you know where I might find her?”

An uncomfortable shift on your feet gives you away.

“Not exactly. She told me she was going to Jakku, but then I heard she was seen going into the forest west of here,” you tell him guiltily.

“Which would you believe?”

Your eyes squeeze shut for a moment. There's a deep intake of breath through your nose then an exhale through your slightly parted lips. Once the calming action is complete, your eyes open again. They fix steadily on Din.

“I want to tell you to believe she went into the forest.”

“But you don't think she did,” he checks for confirmation.

“No, I don’t. My sister is many things, but suicidal isn’t one of them,” you sigh.

“Sister?”

“Estranged, but yes.”

Din chews on this unexpected bit of information. He spares a glance at Grogu. How the hell did the kid manage to kick up a lead like this?

“Do you have any idea where on Jakku she would go?” He knows it's a long shot, but it's also his only shot.

“I don't even know what’s on Jakku other than sand,” you admit sheepishly.

Din gives a short nod. That’s everything. Grogu coos at you some more, clearly infatuated now that he knows you possibly carry jelly cakes. It makes it hard for Din to move. Grogu doesn't even reach toward Peli like this.

“Thank you,” he says.

Another moment of standing there.

“I’m sorry about your sister.”

The words completely surprise you. He can see it all over your face. Your eyebrows raise, your eyes grow larger, and your face reddens just a tad.

“You’re just doing your job, right?” You give a sad smile.

He once again nods. It’s not the first time the job has left him feeling a little torn. The first time was Grogu. With that, he makes his leave for Jakku.

***

It’s a couple of weeks later when the Mandalorian is knocking on your door again. Surprise is evident on your face as you greet him.

“Would you watch him?” He asks without any prelude.

You simply blink at him for a moment. Grogu essentially materializes from beneath the Mandalorian’s cape. He had been tucked nicely into a leather bag.

“Really?”

“If it isn't too much trouble.”

“Y’know there’s the corral in-”

“I left him there last time and he ended up with you. I think he’ll be happier going with you, to begin with.”

Grogu’s big eyes watch you hopefully. He coos and reaches out for you. Maker, he’s adorable. With a smile, you accept him into your arms.

“Okay, how long will you be?”

“I won't be back until nightfall.”

Your eyebrows furrow. It’s morning now. That’s a long time to leave his child with someone who’s a perfect stranger.

“Where are you going?”

“Moenia, but I don’t trust anywhere else to be safe enough. He’s… special.”

The vagueness of the Mandalorian’s words piques your interest, but you put it off for another time. Moenia is a city below the mountains. No wonder he'll be gone all day. You give him a nod as Grogu tangles his hands in your hair.

“Good luck.”

The Mandalorian nods. He gives Grogu one last pat on the head before leaving. As long as you kept him fed and entertained, Grogu was pretty painless to watch over. You learned quickly that any inkling of boredom leads to increasing amounts of mischief. It took a broken plate, a chewed slipper, and a close call with a knife to teach you that lesson.

Night has settled over the Gallo Mountains when Din returns. He seems a little worse for wear. You can tell even through all that beskar armor. His shoulders are a bit slumped and his knock wasn’t as strong. He expects you to hand Grogu off and then to be on his way.

“He’s asleep and by the looks of it you should be too,” you tell him with an amused smile.

Din follows you into your house. Grogu is out like a light on one of the cushy seats. A too-large blanket covers him to his chin. Din waits and watches for a second. A calm rushes over him when he observes Grogu’s chest moving lightly. When his attention is turned back to you he finds a soft smile already facing him.

“Was he any trouble?” Din asks quietly.

“A little, but it was a fun trouble,” you shrug slightly, “He’s a good kid.”

“Thank you for watching him.”

“Anytime. Now, you’re clearly tired and the kid is asleep. You’re welcome to stay the night. I have a cot I can bring out,” you offer kindly.

He has to mull it over. The thought of sleeping in his armor tempts him to go back to the Razor Crest. The exhaustion in his bones and Grogu’s peaceful form pull him to stay. He can stand a night of sleeping in his armor, he decides.

“I would appreciate that.”

***

Morning comes slowly on Naboo. The daylight takes its time creeping over the mountains to warm up Dee’ja Peak. Din awakes with a crick in his neck but is otherwise rested. He sits up and tilts his head left with a satisfying crack. Then he tilts his head right, earning another satisfying crack, alleviating the crick.

“That sounded like it felt good,” your playful voice says from the kitchen.

Din looks over and sees you at a little table pressed against the wall. Grogu is across from you all but swimming in a bowl of warm oats. It makes him ache a little, how at home Grogu seems to feel here. Din knows what he’s made to do as a Mandalorian. He knows what is expected of him as he raises a foundling. Still, he can't help recalling his own youngling days. He remembers wishing that he could just stay in one place for longer than a few days. He suspects that’s why he’s prone to revisiting familiar landscapes. It gives him a false sense of stability and he hopes it may for Grogu as well.

“It did,” he admits.

The deep cool tone of his voice skates across your skin leaving subtle goosebumps. You’re not sure if it's the modulator in his helmet, but his voice is so soothing.

“Do you want some breakfast?” you gesture to the pot on the stove over a low flame.

“No, that’s alright. We should go when he’s done.”

You nod and go back to what you were doing. He hasn't noticed the paper in front of you until now, or the furious scribbling of your hand. The tip of your tongue sticks out as you focus on the drawing you’ve been working on.

“Is that… me?” he asks, befuddled and flustered.

On the paper before you is a drawing. An extremely good drawing. It’s Din on the cot, one hand on his chest and the other on his stomach as he sleeps. The morning light filters through the window, shining off his armor. Over him is Grogu, peering down from where he was once asleep on the seat. The shading is soft and photorealistic. He imagines you’ve been at it for at least an hour. Something deep in his chest stirs, waking something else deep in his belly.

“Oh- uh- yeah, sorry. I was waiting for you to wake up and… force of habit I guess,” you stutter out, face flushing.

“You have a habit of drawing people while they’re sleeping?” he questions.

“Well, not exactly, but I have a habit of drawing whenever the inspiration strikes without really thinking,” you rub the back of your neck, embarrassed.

Din allows himself a moment to study the image. It’s like a graphite photograph. You have some real skill with a pencil. Maybe even more than Din has with a blaster.

“Could I have it?” he asks, an edge of anxiousness nudging in at the end.

You brandish a smile that makes the inside of Din’s flight suit a little hotter. Maker, it’s been too long since he’s taken care of himself.

“Yeah, of course.”

You put a few finishing touches on the drawing before rolling it up and handing it over. Din almost wishes you could see the soft smile he offers up.

“You’re very good.”

“Thank you,” you smile bashfully.

“You've been very kind to us. Thank you.”

You nod, still sporting a small smile. A glance between Din and Grogu doesn't go unnoticed.

“You’re both welcome anytime… Could I ask you a question, though?”

Din can see the apprehensiveness rolling off of you.

“You can ask, but I can’t promise an answer.”

“What happened with my sister?”

A beat of silence. Well, silence outside of Grogu’s munching.

“I’m still looking. Jakku was another dead end,” he answers honestly.

“What… what are you going to do with her when you find her?” You ask slowly,

You stare him down. A good minute goes by with no words and an intense gaze you can feel from behind that helmet.

“The bounty doesn't specify dead or alive. It’s up to her how I bring her in.”

You nod, a sigh slipping out. It's no secret that Sola Pellis is the worst the Gizmallti has to offer. The people of Dee’ja Peak usually keep to themselves. They conduct their lives up in the mountains and don't get involved with the affairs of other places. What drove Sola to become a mercenary, you don't know.

You do know that she mostly took jobs and money from the worst people. Sola has hurt a lot of people, a lot of children. Somewhere along the way whatever moral compass she had deteriorated. It’s no surprise someone put a bounty on her head. If anything, it’s a surprise it took this long.

“So, where to next?” You ask as you take your bowl and Grogu’s now empty bowl to the sink.

You place the dirty dishes in the sink but turn to face Din again. Your lower back presses into the edge of the sink as you lean back.

“Tatooine.”

“Tatooine that’s…,” you pause a moment to think, brows furrowing creating a wrinkle between them before your face brightens, “desert planet with two suns, right?”

Din nods. He scoops up a gurgling Grogu. There’s something about the hard lines of the Mandalorian contrasting the softness of the kid that ensnares you. He’s so gentle with the tiny ball of trouble. So much gentler than you’d expect someone of his background to be capable of being. In fact, whenever he’s in town the Mandalorian is extremely peaceful. He’s civil. A strange juxtaposition from the stories you’ve heard about the group.

“That’s a kinder description than I would give it,” he says after a moment of consideration.

“What description would you give it?”

“A boiling Sarlacc pit.”

A laugh tumbles off your lips. It's a soft sound that gives Din the same sensation as hearing distant wind chimes. A sort of contemplative calm that allows his chest room to feel the steady beating of his own heart. A brief moment of acknowledging his own humanity.

“Have you been to a lot of places then?”

Once again, Din nods.

“Have you been to Coruscant?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Do you like any places you’ve visited?” you chuckle.

“I like it here,” it hangs in the air for a moment before he snatches it back with a clarification, “in Dee’ja Peak.”

“I’m glad Nabu caught your affection,” you smile with a hint of pride.

“Not Naboo,” he shakes his head slightly.

An amused quirk takes over your smile.

“Don’t let anyone else hear you say it like that.”

“I’m sorry, Nabu.” Din takes care to emphasize the ah sound a little more and shorten the last syllable.

“No worries, just be careful when you're out there. People tend to get very defensive about the Naboo around here.”

Din nods in understanding. It was a careless slip-up on his part. He takes it as a sign that he’s gotten too comfortable here.

“Thank you, again.”

He takes his leave, you giving a chest-height wave after him.

***

You aren't answering the door a week later. Grogu coos curiously up at Din from his pod. The afternoon air hangs temperate and still.

“I don't know,” Din answers the question in Grogu’s eyes.

He stalks off into town to ask around. He would have left Grogu with the newly fixed corral, but the kid made it clear he misses you. Whenever he wanted to bother Din about seeing you again, he would place his hand on the drawing. Din has it taped to the back wall of the cockpit on a smooth panel. Every time Grogu puts his little hand on the drawing and coos at Din with wide eyes, he can only respond with a soft soon, kid.

He spots a shopkeeper who is reorganizing the farming tools they have on display outside. Grogu trails lazily behind him as he goes up to ask if he has any knowledge of your whereabouts. The store is next door, separated by a chunk of dirt road and a windmill. The gruff older man tells Din you’re likely by the riverbank honing your craft.

Grogu spots you first. His excited gurgling and quickened pace in the pod tip Din off. Din’s gaze follows Grogu’s trajectory to find you. Sure enough, you’re set up on the riverbank sitting on a wooden stool. An easel is in front of you, your steady hand painting the rolling landscape before you with the tip of your tongue sticking out. Next to you sits an open case of paints, brushes, and other tools Din can’t place. When you hear Grogu you look over your shoulder with a bright smile.

“You found my secret spot,” you say teasingly as you place your paintbrush onto the lip of the easel.

You pick Grogu up and place him on your lap. He immediately cuddles into your chest. The part of the riverbank you’re on is only a few yards from the edge of town. The backs of houses cast shadows that reach out for you, but fall a few feet short.

“The hardware store owner told me where to find you.”

“Ah, Gus. He’s a good one. If he notices I haven't come back for lunch he’ll bring me some,” you smile fondly at the memories.

“Grizmallti take care of their own,” Din recalls a saying he’s heard on occasion around these parts.

You give him a pleasantly surprised look and nod.

“How long d’you need me to watch him for?” you ask, looking down at Grogu as you scratch behind his ear. Grogu is absolutely eating up the sensation and the attention.

“Until tomorrow, if that’s okay.”

“I’m happy to. Where are you off to this time?”

“Endor.”

You perk up when he says it.

“I've always wanted to go to Endor! Have you been there before?” Excitement is written all over your face.

Din finds it endearing, which spooks him. He thanks his Maker that you can’t see it on his face.

“I have,” he nods.

“Let me guess, you hate it there too,” you tease amused.

You’re sitting there teasing him, Grogu is on your lap looking up at you adoringly, and the warmth of the sun is kissing your skin. Din’s breathing picks up a little, but not enough to alert you to the change. It’s an image he’s allowed himself to think of briefly before falling asleep. Pictures of someone faceless caring for Grogu when he can't. Not having to worry about the kid’s whereabouts and safety. What a comfort it would be to be able to just know Grogu is safe and happy without worry. Maybe that faceless person provides some companionship to Din as well sometimes, but that’s just a happy side effect. The real fantasy is a second more stable, but equally loving parental figure for Grogu.

“No, I don’t mind Endor.”

“Well, now I really want to go there. That’s a raving review from you,” you chuckle.

“Have you ever been off Nabu?” he asks.

“I've never left Dee’ja Peak.”

“I get the sense people don't leave here often.”

You shake your head.

“Less than people visit, that’s for sure.”

Grogu gets his hands on the paintbrush. You quickly reach to snatch it, but he manages to get in a swipe with it. A light purple streak paints diagonally across your face. You were using the color for the more distant mountains. Grogu gurgles at you innocently and you take the paintbrush from his hand. A smile is concealed by Din’s helmet.

“Okay, I think that's enough painting for one day,” you announce and place Grogu back in his pod.

“I’ll be back tomorrow evening at the latest.”

You smile and nod.

***

Din knows you're home this time. He’s later than he expected. Stars twinkle above and the warm glow of the lights through your windows lies ahead. He knocks and it takes you only a second to call out for him to come in.

When he enters he finds you and Grogu at the small table in the living room. You’re sitting crisscrossed on the floor. Grogu is kneeling on top of the table, scribbling furiously on a piece of paper with a blue crayon. You color more lightly on yours with a green one.

“I’m sorry I’m so late,” he says as he approaches.

“It’s okay, once I got him some crayons he was set. He’s been at it for hours,” you chuckle and gesture to the pile of drawings behind you.

Din flips through some of the drawings. They’re all a mishmash of multicolored scribbles. Over your shoulder, he can see you’ve drawn Grogu drawing. It’s in crayon, but still somehow incredibly accurate. Grogu coos for Din once he’s satisfied with the amount of blue on the paper. Din pops him onto his hip. He immediately finds the small talisman hidden in a pocket of Din’s belt. Din takes it from him, clenching it in his fist.

“I brought you something from Endor,” he tells you tentatively.

You peer up at him with wide eyes.

“You did?”

He holds out his hand and opens it. In his palm is a small semi-flat talisman of an Ewok with a hood and spear carved from a deep green stone. You take it tenderly, running your fingers over the curves and ridges. It’s cool to the touch and vaguely smells like the Endorian forest. Din watches you study the talisman in awe. It’s something he spotted in passing and only cost him a few credits. It’s not the same as going there, but it’s a small piece of Endor in the palm of your hand.

“This is beautiful, thank you so much,” you look up at him with an astonished expression, “You really didn’t have to get me anything.”

“It’s nothing. Consider it a token of appreciation.”

“I feel very appreciated, thank you,” your voice is soft and genuine like your eyes.

There's a brief moment where Din gets an urge to reach out for you. He doesn't know where the impulse comes from. He just knows that the kid likes you, which means you’re good. You’re good and help him out. You give him a place to rest, you give the kid a place to be a kid, and you do it all with a smile on your face. Din probably has the most respect for you out of anyone he knows.

“Will you be staying the night? I can't imagine taking off in the dark is a good idea,” you offer with a knowing smile.

There's the telltale slump of his shoulders. He’s tired. It’s like your gaze is piercing his beskar.

“If you don't mind.”

“How could I mind after a gift like this?”

In the morning, the crayon drawing of Grogu is already rolled up next to Din. He hadn't even had the chance to ask for it.

***

“Grogu,” you scold.

He’s on the counter, a hand literally in the cookie jar. Those big eyes stay on you as his hand continues to inch forward into the jar.

“If you take a cookie out of that jar your father will be hearing about this,” you warn him.

Grogu gives a displeased gurgle. His ears droop. With one last longing look at the cookies, he removes his hand from the jar. You pick him up off the counter.

“C'mon, let’s spend some time outside.”

You bring him out and set him loose in the grass in front of your house. This way he can hunt the snails that have infested your garden. He gets snacks and entertainment, you get a cleared-out garden and a second to breathe. The Mandalorian is a day late. You’re seriously beginning to worry, but are trying really hard to not let Grogu catch on.

Din knows he’s in trouble the moment he sees you outside. Not because he’s late or limping. Because you’re sitting on a big flag rock, smiling affectionately at where Grogu is pouncing on snails. He has the strange sensation of returning somewhere that's waiting to welcome him, of returning home.

That drop in his stomach, that buzz in his chest tells him he’s in trouble. The kid has softened him so much more than he’d realized. Since when did Din desire a family? Worse, that faceless person caring for Grogu and giving him companionship is beginning to look a lot like you. Worst, he’s silently given up on the pursuit of your sister. You are just the latest way Naboo makes his job more difficult.

“Don’t let him eat too many of those. He won't stop until he throws them up,” Din says as he limps up to you.

You’re whipping around and standing in an instant. Relief washes over you, but worry still covers your face.

“Maker, I was afraid something happened,” you breathe as you look him up and down.

“Sorry, I’m late.”

“Are you okay?” you ask, clocking his limp.

“I’m fine. I just need to sit,” he grunts.

Suddenly, you’re ducking under his arm, tossing it over your shoulders. You place your own arm around his waist, the beskar so cold it stings. He hisses when the pressure of your hand irritates a sore spot on his side. You loosen your hold.

“Sorry,” you mumble and start to guide him into the house.

Grogu scurries in at your ankles, looking up worriedly at his father. You help him to the nearest seat in the living room. He sighs in relief.

“Are you hurt? Do you need a doctor?” You hover over him, not sure what to do.

He shakes his head slowly.

“I’m fine, I swear. I’m just… bruised.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

Din studies your features for a second. You're so incredibly kind it’s almost funny. It almost feels fake. He kind of feels like he could reach out right now and you would poof out of existence like a cloud.

“The cot,” he grunts.

You nod and quickly go to retrieve it. Once the coffee table is out of the way, you set it up. Din moves onto it, laying back. Trying to rest in his full get-up looks uncomfortable, it always does.

“Let me help you get your armor off,” you say and reach toward his pauldron.

“No,” his hand shoots out, grabbing your wrist.

“Your flight suit and helmet can stay on, but all the external metal… I just think you'd rest easier without it,” you explain softly.

His gloved fingers remain around your wrist for a beat.

“Okay,” he agrees quietly.

You help him unfasten and take off the different bits of beskar. Piece by piece you peel back the Mandalorian’s shell, placing each shiny part gently on an empty seat. You even fold up his cape and hang the satchel that he had around him on the back of a chair. Din sighs once he’s able to fully settle back. It is a lot more comfortable without the armor. His helmet still props his neck at an awkward angle, but that's something he can deal with. It's something he has to deal with.

“Will you tell me what happened to you, or are you going to just look at me silently from under that helmet like I can’t tell?” you ask, teasing lightly.

Din is eternally grateful for the cover his helmet provides. His face is on fire and the helmet is swallowing the flames.

“A Corellian welcome.”

You give him a look that says you aren't satisfied with that answer.

“I don't know what that means and you know it,” you cross your arms.

He does know it. Trying to circumvent the conversation, but appease you is a dirty Mandalorian trick.

“Corellians say hello with their fists. They say hello harder when you’re after one of their friends,” he elaborates, hand crossing his body to brace his side at the memory of slamming into a table.

“Remind me to never go there in my many travels.”

“I’ll do my best.”

You chuckle. Tension that you didn't know had gripped your shoulders eases. Sure, part of you was concerned because of Grogu. Both because you didn't want the kid to be an orphan and because you simply aren’t prepared to be a single parent. Watching the kid on your own for a couple of days at a time at most? Sure. Permanent and sole responsibility? No. A bigger slice of the concern goes to the Mandalorian himself.

He’s been by more than a dozen times at this point. Each time you find yourself sinking further and further. You're up to your knees in him. Wading through uncharted waters, unsure you’ll ever reach the dock on the other side. Yet, each minute spent in his presence pushes you forward. His care for Grogu, his stories, the way you can tell he’s growing more comfortable around you when he jokes back. All little glimmers of light beneath the surface below your knees. Glimmers that lead your way.

“Inside my bag, front left pocket,” he tells you.

“What?” you stare at him dubiously.

“There’s something in there. Grab it.”

Without another word, you begin searching the soft leather bag. Grogu gurgles up at Din from beside the cot. Din drops a gloved hand over the side, allowing Grogu to take hold of it. The small gesture is what keeps gravity working on him, Din’s sure of it. All the aching, and the soreness, eases with the assurance that Grogu is okay. Proof of that is his tiny grip around Din’s thick gloved finger.

“What is this?”

In your hand is a smooth square piece of fabric. The size makes you think of a bandana, but the material is soft. It has an almost liquid quality to it. The colors are beautifully pigmented. A rich blue, a pattern of small white fish dotted all over, and a golden trim. This piece of fabric is likely the nicest thing you’ve ever held in your life.

“It’s for you,” he says like those three words explain everything.

“I- what?”

“It’s Corellian silk. Pieces that size are good for wrapping around your head. It keeps you cool, absorbs moisture, but stays soft,” he explains.

You can't tell if he’s peering at you through his visor. All you know is your mouth is slightly parted in awe.

“I can’t possibly accept this.”

You begin to put it back, but he grunts in annoyance.

“Please.”

Your eyes bounce from the Corellian silk to the Mandalorian. It’s truly gorgeous and would do wonders when you’re painting on especially humid days.

“I just wish I could thank you properly.”

“Just saying thank you is enough.”

You crack a small amused smile.

“I mean that I still don't know your name. Names are important to my people. I didn't want to push you, I know your people value boundaries and privacy.”

The Mandalorian is quiet for so long that you begin to worry. He can tell by the way the silk wrinkles in your grip. Right when you open your mouth to apologize for crossing the line, he speaks again.

“Din. My name is Din.”

A wide relieved smile breaks out on your face. Din is starting to think that of all the stunning landscapes and views Naboo has to offer, your smile is his favorite.

“Thank you, Din. It’s beautiful. I’ve never felt anything like it,” childlike wonder invades your tone, “I’ve never owned something so nice before.”

He watches you fold the fabric into a triangle then tie it around your head. It covers your head from your hairline back, leaving what’s left of the length of your hair pouring out the back. When your hair is fully out of your face, Din’s breath hitches.

He gets an unobstructed view of your features, no distractions. The curves of your cheekbones and nose create a smooth mountainous backdrop for the lush valley that is the rest of your features. Every inch of your face makes Din think of the flourishing environment of Naboo. Especially because, like many of the people around here, you have an ageless quality about you. Something that’s shared with the planet itself and its architecture. This moment convinces Din that every good thing Naboo has to offer has accumulated in the mountains, mixed together, and created you.

“You look good. Nice things suit you,” Din comments once all his breath comes back to him.

You are acutely aware of the heat that climbs up your neck until it reaches the tips of your ears. A small, coy smile appears on your lips.

“Thank you,” your voice comes out hushed, but you can tell he hears.

Grogu begins a free solo up Din’s arm. It’s clear it causes Din pain with the way he tenses, but he doesn't do anything to stop the kid. He’s a little bit of a pushover for the pint-sized menace, something that warms your heart. You quickly extract Grogu from Din’s arm, but not before he reaches his shoulder. Din relaxes when the weight and pressure of Grogu are lifted. Knowing the kid is now cooing and chirping in your arms provides an extra layer of relief.

“Let’s let your dad rest, yeah?” You give Grogu raised eyebrows, looking for confirmation.

Grogu’s ears lower in disappointment. Din really really likes when you call him Grogu’s dad. When you talk to the kid like his life is normal.

“I know we missed him, but we can terrorize him tomorrow,” your voice is honey-like.

The words hit Din in his chest. Almost as hard as that Corellian bartender.

“You missed me, huh?” A smirk toys at the corners of his lips.

Maker knows this helmet has made it impossible for him to school his expression at this point. There are certainly some tricks you can't teach an old dog. How to not show every single thought on your face is definitely one of them. Not after a lifetime of not having to.

“Don’t get too smug, now. It’s not becoming,” you chide playfully.

A deep chuckle rumbles through Din’s chest. It lasts a second before turning into a pained hiss.

“Din, you're clearly not okay. Let me get you some ice at least.”

He gives a curt nod. Din watches you go to the kitchen, grab a dishcloth, and start digging in the icebox. You plop some ice in the cloth and tie it all up into a makeshift ice pack. Grogu watches curiously from your hip the entire time.

When you offer the ice to Din, Grogu nuzzles further into you. It almost feels like he’s thanking you for caring for his dad. Din accepts the ice and holds it to the bottom of his rib cage. A moment of deep thought crosses your face as you watch him, unaware that beneath that helmet he’s watching you as well.

“Stop,” he says suddenly.

“Stop what?” you furrow your brows.

“Stop worrying over me. We’ll be gone by morning, you don't have to worry.”

You shake your head.

“No, I’m not worried about you being here. I’m worried about you leaving too soon and making this worse. I can talk to Melda at the Inn about letting you use a bed if the cot-”

“Right, I forgot how you people are.”

It’s the wrong thing to say, Din knows as soon as it's out. You bristle. If you had fur, he’s sure he’d be watching your hackles raise.

“How us people are?” You question.

“I didn't mean anything by it,” he tries to diffuse the situation.

He only adds fuel to the flames. You take his words as dismissive rather than explanatory.

“There’s no way to say that and not mean anything by it. What exactly are my people like?” you're more forceful this time, demanding an answer from him.

A real answer, not some vague Mandalorian partial truth.

“Kind.”

The answer causes you to pause. Any building anger halts, any budding snap response disappears, and confusion takes both their places.

“Kind?”

“Yes, kind. Any other planet and I would have already been at the Inn or my ship. The Grizmallti are known for treating their visitors like locals. You have a saying about it,” he explains.

“Give to each child of Nabu as if you are giving to yourself,” you say softly.

“Mandalorians don’t have anything about giving. Mostly just taking. That's why I like it here.”

The thought is so incredibly comforting. Din likes being here because of the nature of you and your people, not despite it. You feel validated. What Din finds solace in is what drove Sola away. You can recall one of the last times you spoke to her. She spat venom when you attempted to reason with her Grizmallti roots. Scolded you for not living for yourself, for following the ways of Dee’ja Peak like a lemming.

What she never understood is that you are living for yourself. You love your community and your way of life. Sure you’d like to expand your horizons. You'd like to explore the far reaches of the galaxy and see everything there is to see. Still, you always pictured yourself coming right back here when you’re done and continuing to care for those around you when you do so. There is nothing more fulfilling for you than caring about and for others. You have hope that if Din doesn't fully understand that now, he could in the future.

“Have you ever thought about staying?” The question slips out before you can catch it.

“It’s not what we do.”

“What’s not?”

“Staying in one place.”

You simply nod. The silence gnaws at your ankles uncomfortably. You shift on your legs in an attempt to rid yourself of it. Grogu starts trying to climb up your torso. You chuckle as you let him. He clambers up until he’s holding onto your head and standing on your shoulder. You tilt your head to give him more room and reach up to steady him with your hands. Din watches fondly as the ice does its job.

“Have you ever thought about leaving?” he asks.

Your gaze snaps back over to him. A small, almost sad smile appears.

“All the time,�� you admit.

“Why don’t you?”

“It’s not that simple. Like you said, people don't leave here often.”

You lift Grogu off of your shoulder where he was playing with the silk on your head. The sun has fully set outside. Trilling can be heard through the windows from the bugs. You set Grogu into his pod. He lays back easily, pooped, and is ready for sleep.

“That doesn't mean they don't leave at all,” Din points out gently.

The pod shuts itself as Grogu drifts off. No doubt dreaming about those pesky snails. You finally allow yourself to sit, taking the seat beside where Din lays.

“I suppose it doesn't,” you sigh.

“Why don't you?” He repeats his question.

You open and close your mouth a couple of times with false starts. A frown settles in when you can't find an excuse that satisfies you.

“I don’t know… I’m scared, I guess.”

“Scared of what?”

“I’ve never been further than the river. I know it probably sounds silly to someone who travels for a living, but I’m afraid I won't make it home if I leave,” your voice is pillow soft and contemplative.

Din takes a steadying inhale through his nose. Then he places a heavy gloved hand on your knee. As his heart pounds in his chest, he gives a comforting squeeze.

“That’s not silly.”

You swallow the lump that’s suddenly in your throat. This is the first time you find yourself wishing you could see Din’s face. The beskar has always just been a part of him. Now that all of it but his helmet is shedded it fully hits you. There is someone underneath all that armor. Someone with skin that isn't blaster-proof. Someone whose body is likely warm rather than icy to the touch. Someone whose face is looking at you, reassuring you, and making an expression you’ll never be able to see. Oh, how you long to see how he looks at you.

“Thank you, Din.”

You place your hand over his. The material is rough to the touch, but it still comforts you. It’s still Din’s hand bridging a gap that’s never been bridged before. He’s offering a tender touch that you’ve only seen him give to Grogu.

“I’d ensure you make it home,” he states.

All you can do is blink at him for a moment.

“What are you saying?” you ask it slowly, beating down the rising hope and heartbeat.

“You can come with us. I’ll keep you safe.”

His voice is certain and unwavering. That hope you were beating down wins, bursting into your chest. The smile that grows on your face is blinding and breathtaking. Din has the terrifying thought that he would do whatever he can to make you continue smiling like that.

“Are you sure I won’t slow you down?”

“I already travel with a child. You’ll be easy.”

You nod enthusiastically. Dank farrik, Din must be absolutely melting in his helmet. There’s no other reason his brain is short-circuiting like this.

“I guess this way you don't have to come all the way back to Nabu to bring me gifts,” you tease.

Another circuit in Din’s brain pops.

“That’s one way of looking at it.”

“Where would we go first?”

“Mos Eisley first, then wherever the bounty takes us.”

“Mos Eisley?” You ask feeling just a bit stupid.

“Tatooine.”

You nod thinking of what to pack. Tatooine is a desert planet, but you’ll be going to places of all temperatures and weather. At the same time, you don't want to pack too heavy. How are you going to fit all your art supplies into a bag? Will there even be room on his ship?

“My easel and supplies, will there be room? I suppose I can always just stick to sketching and paint when I get back,” you mumble the end to yourself.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make room.”

A small gesture that carries such big implications for how you’ll fit into his life from here on out. Din will no longer be entering your space. You won't be the one adjusting and making room. He will. Din is going to alter everything about his life so you can fit neatly in it.

“Y’know, that’s the first time you’ve told me not to worry that actually made me stop worrying,” you muse.

“You worry too much.”

His hand squeezes your knee further.

“It’s hard not to with you two around,” you tease with a playful smile.

You can't hear it, but you can see the light chuckle move in his chest.

“You should hit the rack. Big day tomorrow,” Din says softly.

He gives your knee one last squeeze before removing it. Your knee is suddenly cold. Din misses the warmth he was able to barely feel through his glove. He wonders how warm you are without the glove.

“Big day, indeed.”

***

You don't mention saying goodbye to any family the next morning. Din doesn't ask. If your sister is any indication, family is likely a sore topic. You hug various people as you walk to Dee’ja Port. Din recognizes Gus, who sends you away with a basket of bread and a firm order not to forget to eat. Another person you introduce as Luka gives you a bottle of spotchka. Then Melda, the woman Din spoke to at the Inn, shoves over a rolled-up blanket. It seems to be made of every hue in a Naboo sunset and woven together with thick soft yarn. He watches your eyes widen.

“Melda, you must need this. I can't take it,” you say and attempt to hand it back.

Melda shakes her head and holds her hand up to stop you.

“We have plenty. I want you to have a piece of home with you when you need it. Nothing more Dee'ja Peak than one of my blankets,” she insists.

You give her an extra tight hug. When you set off again you explain to Din that the blanket is one used on the beds in the Inn. Melda hand makes them. She sells them during festivals and sometimes even takes commissions. They’re expensive, though. They take a lot of work and material. Her giving you one is a heart-swelling gesture.

All in all, it takes the two of you twenty-five minutes to make the ten-minute walk to Dee’ja Port. Every few buildings someone is stopping you to give you a hug and wish you well. Din and Grogu watch in silent awe at the sheer amount of love you are showered with on your way out.

Dee’ja Port houses four bays and cheap docking. The Razor Crest is sitting in the furthest bay. He leads you to her, telling you what she’s called. It feels like he’s nervously introducing you to a family member. You give him a warm smile that you then direct to the Crest. You place a gentle hand on the side of her body.

“It’s the best thing I’ve ever seen,” you hum.

Din chuckles, drawing your attention.

“She’s a piece of garbage, but she’s our piece of garbage,” he says.

He helps you to secure your things in the cargo hold. Priority is to take off, then you can figure out where exactly everything will go. It’s strange imagining him existing in this space. While you can see him in the way everything is organized, there’s nothing else that feels like Din.

From the cargo hold you pass the small living quarters and climb up into the cockpit. You sit to Din’s right, Grogu on your lap. Grogu coos and reaches out to the left. When you follow his little hand you find your drawings on the back wall. The one you drew of Din and Grogu that first morning and the silly little crayon sketch. Your face heats up.

“I didn't think you hung them up,” you comment.

Din glances at you and then over his other shoulder.

“Oh- the-,” he clears his throat a little, “the kid really likes them.”

You smile as Din faces forward. Din swears his beskar must be red and gooey with how hot his skin is.

“Awe, you like my drawings, Grogu?” you coo down at the kid.

He looks up at you with his ears perked up, gurgling.

“I’m glad because there’s only going to be more,” you say, eyes darting up to where Din is flipping switches and pressing buttons.

Grogu coos happily. The Crest roars to life, causing you to jump a bit.

“Sorry,” Din mumbles as he continues readying the ship.

When the ship starts to move it really sinks in. You’re leaving Dee’ja Peak. You’re leaving Nabu. Din looks at you over his shoulder. You can see your reflection in his visor, wide-eyed and anxious.

“Ready?” Din asks.

You take a deep breath.

“As I’ll ever be.”

Din nods and looks forward again. Another few flips and clicks then the ship is off. As you leave your home and everyone you know behind, your eyes stay glued on the beskar-clad man in front of you. You watch him open up an entire galaxy of possibilities to you for no reason other than the desire to do so. The blue of the atmosphere gives way to an endless expanse of stars, but you’re sure the brightest of them all is in this cockpit with you.

#din djarin #din dijarin x reader #din djarin x gn!reader #down the din hole i go #the mandalorian x gn!reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #din dijarin fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction

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krikeymate · 10 months

Note

Hope you’re going well!

(Im sending these as cute little happy things but let me know if im just creating more work for you to do!)

More hcs! (This is kind of a mix of all au’s)

Tara loves any type of sweets!

Sam is so athletic so she loves jogging and maybe hikes! She likes to take tara with her even though she knows it will probably end up with her carrying tara before they even reach the halfway point!

All of the core 4 play very rough with werewolf sam! I can see all of them trying the tackle the huge wolf!

Tara likes to take small walks outside and she always brings back flowers for sam! (they are actually weeds but sam doesn’t have the heart to tell her sister the truth 😭)

Mindy and chad were definitely intimated by sam in her wolf form at first.. they would bring her sticks and toys as peace offerings

I feel like sometimes Mindy would tell tara how hot her sister is just to piss her off (this one might not be right)

I saw your one post about how tara didn’t know how to swim… imagine tara still being timid being in deep waters after they teach her so the core 4 lets her sit on their shoulders so she can still have fun with them without being scared!

Little tara would glare and get mad when anyone got close to sam.. sam was with her all the time and tara would get jealous when someone else talked to her!

I LOVE YOUUU

These are wonderful and I'm happy to receive them!!!

Sam and Tara having a sweet tooth was genuinely one of the hardest things I had to talk about in Foster AU because I cannot relate at all lol. I feel like, given I've given Tara a chewing problem, she definitely likes hard-boiled sweets, lollipops, and fudge. Sam strikes me as a dark chocolate kinda person.

I'm loving the thought of Sam taking up things like hiking and rock climbing. Tara tries to go with her when she can, because she knows how happy the activities make Sam and she wants to be enthusiastic about the things Sam enjoys (and also because the idea of Sam going out alone to do potentially dangerous activities scares her)... but oh god it's the worst. She does her best, she throws herself at it with enthusiasm and grit, but she just cannot keep up. Some people would just tell her to stay home, to stop being a burden. Sam enjoys every moment of watching her sister force herself through it and carrying her the rest of the way. (She loves that she tries, how she keeps trying, just for her).

Little Tara absolutely brings back all the 'flowers' she can find for her sister whenever she goes out, because they're super pretty and she loves them! Sam never tells her they're weeds, but her mother does once when she sees her handing them to Sam. "They're ugly weeds girl, not flowers. Stop bringing trash into my home," she says. "Weeds are flowers too!" Sam spits back. "And they're my favourite," she promises Tara. They keep a vase of dandelions in their kitchen as adults.

In the same way that Tara is Sam's, Sam is Tara's. She does not share her sister. It's like being scowled at like a puppy, adorable and in no way threatening. She'll attach herself to Sam's leg and peer around her to glare at the other person taking Sam's attention away from her.

Werewolf Sam is prime wrestling real estate. She's so gentle with them, but she demands they wear thick clothes just in case when wrestling so she doesn't nip them too hard. The very idea of Chad holding out a stick to Sam as a peace offering is so fucking funny. He would be so serious about it, and Tara would be like "what the fuck are you doing... that's so racist, Chad, god!"

Tara reluctantly learns to swim, but she still hates the water. (Chad suggests armbands, and she pushes him under the water for that.) They'll all stay in the shallow water with Tara so she feels comfortable and can still enjoy it with them.

Mindy is a little shit so she absolutely flirts with Sam - who is oblivious - and raves about her to Tara. Who has to hear about her arms and her legs and her as- "oh my god Mindy please stop." Mindy does not stop. Chad begins to join in and she seriously reconsiders their relationship. She's mad she can't whine about their behaviour to Sam, because she does not want to start that conversation. She rats on them to their mom once, and is horrified to learn where they get it from when Martha goes on a 45-minute talk about beautiful women.

She hangs up the phone, and turns to Sam who has been giving her weird looks for the past 10 minutes. "Who was that?" she asks, confused, because Tara hates phone calls, and she was on it for ages. "Martha," Tara responds, a little dazed.

"What- uh, what were you talking about?" Sam's dreading the answer, because surely it's about her relationship with Chad. If it was marriage talk, Sam's going to start throwing fists. Tara is far too young for that sort of thing. Oh god, what if it's baby talk?!

"Women."

"Women?"

"Women."

#/mp #ask box #Scream #Sam Carpenter #Tara Carpenter #scream headcanon tags #WOAH DID YOU KNOW IF YOU HIGHLIGHT A WORD AND PRESS THE ' KEY IT PUTS IT AT EITHER END???? sorry. very exciting moment for me.

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mangacat201 · 1 year

Text

Hahahahahahaha. And here we go again, clowning for another year! LOL.

Is it weird that what I’m maddest about at the episode was that they hit EVERY.SINGLE.HOLLYWOOD.CLICHE on the birth scene and then had the gal to give Buck that line about how he’s a professional.

HOT WATER AND TOWELS BOY? (And not even boiled water too, I mean wtf, LOLOL)

(and I am also looking at you Howard Han, but I’m leaving that down to general befuddlement because an ambulance just fell on you)

Anyway. I can’t believe this is the moment they finally got me with the sperm donor storyline. Because to me, it’s not about Buck not getting the family he so badly wants anymore (look right next to you, buddie, I beg of you, but I digress) or choosing a healthy place for himself to keep the kid in his mind (dad vis a vis donor) - I finally understood the assignment.

Buck has had to face the fact that he was chosen to be made, not to be loved, but for a purpose. A purpose that he couldn’t fullfil through no fault of his own, but that has haunted his life forever before he even knew why.

Now he CHOSE a son to be MADE for LOVE.

That’s it.

That’s what it was all about it. It doesn’t matter that he had to give him up (and he’ll get to be in his life for sure one way or the other, so I’m not actually worried about that anymore). The legacy he’s leaving to that little boy that is part of him is getting to grow up being loved the way Buck should have and deserved to grow up being loved.

And now he can let go of that trauma.

He doesn’t have to be anything for anybody.

He can go figure out who he is now without that expectation. He got to say goodbye to the spectre of Daniel and he got to say goodbye to the couch that was chosen for him. And yes, even though he’s still stumbling into a relationship again without really being ready (in the sense that he still hasn’t figured out how he feels about his death) at least he’s actively asking for help choosing for himself. And hell, maybe that’s not too bad a thing. Cause that’s what Natalia does right? Helps people choose how to live their life purposefully and meaningfully and offer companionship along the way. (And maybe she learned something too of the experience?) So Buck can grow a little more, gain the confidence to figure out what it actually is that he wants and then ask for it. CHOOSE life.

Maybe Eddie actually choosing to do the dating thing, to LEARN how to do it, properly, in a way that doesn’t put pressure on him, that’s just figuring out, is a good thing too?

People, hell the show itself, has been talking about how he’s had to mature too fast. Grow up skipping past a lot of milestones, hell his OWN SON is roasting him for his game like a peer instead of an adult. Maybe Eddie has to take that step first to play, to experiment, to just be - in order to also figure out what he wants. When you first start dating things are very serious (Shannon), sometimes you mess up because you haven’t figured yourself out yet (Ana), then you just try to find your footing and have fun with each other and learn (I can see that happening with Marisol) and when you’ve learned your lessons, made your mistakes, had your fun... you’ve matured enough to find what you’ve been making for a long, long time (Buck).

So yeah... typing up all this stream of consciousness I seem to have talked myself out of being mad at were our boys ended up? Funny how that goes.

And yes, this had the feel of a possible series finale that they pulled up very well and that tied up a lot of things (I’m looking at you beautiful beautiful people, Bathena, getting your cruise, dreadful hawaii print and all, and Madney continuing to build the life they choose, growing healthy together which is so fun to watch and Henren finally with a dream they’d all but given up in reach) - but a show does only keep our attention if it leaves its characters some road to go (room to grow or rope to hang themselves, your pick, lol). So since we are actually getting another shot to see them back, I am hopeful now.

So... tldr, I actually want to thank the fandom community here, all the smart, witty, compassionate people digging for the deeper meaning way past what the writers probably intended or even knew was there themselves. Y’all spread your takes and I know whenever I’ve finished watching I’ll go here and find something to explain to me why I shouldn’t be mad about stuff or how I missed that hidden parallel or how someone agrees with my view and I always come away in awe of all the thoughtfulness that goes into all of it.

My little pocket friends, we live to clown another day, here’s to a summer of meta, fix it fic, season 7 spec - this has been my first season in real time, it was an honor and a privilege.

#911 #911 fox #911 abc #911 spoilers #pay it forward #long post omg #911 meta #Idek where I found this many words #the Buddie of it all #madney rules #bathena my beloved #henren 'it's not rocket science yes it is' family palooza #we all are so deranged I that for us #cat rambling

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absurdthirst · 2 years

Note

Can I request a headcanon for how good or bad each of the Pedro character are at helping around the house? I'm thinking Marcus Pike is great with chores but probably can't cook (I always remember him eating takeout or diner food in the show) and Max Philips definitely hires a cleaning service.

Helping Around The House:

Javier: Did you see how clean his apartment could be? This man helps out. He’s not the typical bachelor slob and that transfers over into a relationships. Come on? That toothbrush cup and his razor was neatly placed on the little mirror ledge. However, he does NOT cook. You don’t want him to. This man burned water, literally started reading a report and boiled all the water out of the pot and scorched it. But he won’t complain about a hot dog if you really don’t cook either.

Ezra: Ummmm, you guys don’t have much. Your pod is nice and neat, but thats by necessity. There’s not a whole hell of a lot that you carry that isn’t for survival, so there isn’t a lot of mess. However, he does set up the camp marvelously efficiently. Cooking isn’t any better either. Those Nutri packs or bars is about as fancy as it gets when you are roughing it out on the Green.

Mando: Mando is....militaristic. Everything has a place but beyond the neatly organized weapons locker, he’s not exactly domestic? Like meals are broths or packaged meals. The Crest has cargo containers with stuff, but it’s all organized so he knows exactly where everything is when he needs it. It’s more about you staying out of things than anything else honestly. At least at the beginning. You start bringing things in the ship, making him sigh and start reorganizing to find a place for it. Although he was really upset when the Crest was destroyed because you lost all your stuff.

Frankie: He was in the military. The man knows how to keep an area clean. Things are not white glove clean since the baby, but he helps out. There's not really a chore list between the two of you. It’s just more of a ‘if it needs doing at that moment, do it’ type of attitude. He’s not going to ignore a full dishwasher or dryer because that’s ‘your’ chore. Although all the small fix it type chores around the house are his. He doesn’t trust you not to lose his tools. 😂

Tovar: You are kidding right? He is a man, his job is to provide for you. Your job is to take what he’s provided and turn it into a warm and welcoming home for him. It’s the time of course that lends him to adhere to this ideal of what the roles are. HOWEVER...this man also chops the wood and hauls the water, literally builds the house, breaks the ground for the garden every spring, and takes care of the hunting the meat. It’s not that he doesn’t help you, it’s more that you each play your roles very well and they compliment each other.

Agent Whiskey: Jack absolutely hires a cleaning service. He’s never home. Always away on missions. And when he is home, he wants to spend every moment he can with his sugar, not worrying about cleaning a house. He has someone come in every couple of days to take care of the cleaning so you don’t have to worry about. Although, when he’s home, Jack will fire up the grill to make you a mean ribeye to go with that bottle of Statesman.

Max Phillips: Cleaning service. You really think he’s going to clean up all that blood? Although it’s more that he turned the cleaning lady into a vampire. Hasn’t cooked since he's become a vampire, so you are on your own with that. Just, dear God, go easy on the garlic. That shit stinks.

Marcus Pike: Of course Marcus will help. He’s going to assist any way that he can, maybe take on the chores that you hate the most because it will make you happy. Chore chart? Would that make it easier? Whatever it is, he’s in this 50/50. Although....he can order a mean take out, he cannot cook - bless him. Maybe a cooking lesson as a date night?

Oberyn: Chores? Things around the castle? That’s the servants responsibilities. Your job it so be by his side and his job is to do a lot of things, but none of them require either one of you to worry about washing clothes or preparing food. Your days of thinking you will live a hard life breaking your back for some shit lord are over.

Dave York: He takes the trash out. When he’s in town. Honestly, with his schedule, he knows that a lot of the day to day gets put on your shoulders. He appreciates that, so when he is home on the weekends, he gives the girls strict instructions that they aren’t to bother you with anything, Mr. Mom mode is activated. It’s the least he can do for you holding down the fort while he was out being sexy murder daddy.

Zach: What are you talking about? You barely do anything. Zach is so damn proud of having a roof over his head, he’s going to be hard pressed to let you do anything. Seriously. He loves the fact that he has a place to clean and chores to do in order to maintain a home. It takes a little while and a few arguments to get him to relinquish the almost iron grip he has over the household cleaning.

Marcus Moreno: He’s honesty relieved to have a little help with the household chores to be honest. Missy has her chores, but he’s so very happy to have help with cooking and just the general cleaning of the house. Just tell him how to you want to pitch in and he will make sure that he tells you how much he appreciates it.

Max Lord: To be honest, Max isn’t present even when he’s at home. He’s in his home office, working, burying his head in paperwork to find that dream stone. His dreams for you, for Alistair hinge on him finding that artifact and making sure that he has everything he’s ever wanted, and that he can give you the world. Sitting in his paper littered office, he doesn’t understand that you want him to help now, with the little things. Taking out the trash is more important that the riches he seeks in your eyes. He just can’t see it.

Javi G: Javi doesn’t clean. Not because he’s an ass, but that is what they have hired people to do. He doesn’t make intentional messes, he cleans up after himself and he doesn’t leave his clothes scattered floor everywhere, but it’s just not on his radar to do chores. However, he does clean his memorabilia room himself. Does that count?

Dieter: Cleaning??? The only cleaning this man does is when he cuts neat little lines in his cocaine to snort up. He’s living in hotels most of the year and then when he’s home, he’s got the most amazing housekeeper at his house in Sherman Oaks. She comes in everyday and is witness to what a messy slob Dieter can be. This man child is absolutely useless with domesticity.

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boxwinebaddie · 4 months

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i gotta know.. how tall is bebe from ur universes because she GIVES tall, she's giving 5'6, 5'8 MAYBE burt her personality also screams 5'2. SO HOW TALL IS QUEEN?

you know something...That's A Very Interesting Question, Anon.

( its different in both fanfictions, i'm coming to find -- which is a shock to no one!!! nina makes her fanfics different but the same -- but boils down to the same conclusion: i love you, barbara stevens. )

because OKAY! so in peppermint, i Did canonically make bebe like 5'11", which i wrote in because her gigantic personality is easily 6'3"/i was playing into her limited edition south park barbie small town supermodel thing, but tbh...i did it moooostly becauseeeeee...

....i wanted to make her taller than stan just to Torment him w/ it. ;*

WHICH SKHDLSKHD!!! okay! take a shot [ of water ] every time uncle nina says One Of My Favorite Parts of Peppermint because I Knooow chapter nine SPECIFICALLY was meant to be very Emotionally Impactful because of how tenderly and earnestly stan talked about kyle, the crinkle in his nose when he concentrates to counting every freckle on his face, stendy being platonic soulmates and stan's mind finally accepting his love for KP but his body violently rejecting it??

like stan slowly succumbing to lovesickness was Gutwrenching n all

(literally)

BUT STAN & BEBE BEING SWORN ENEMIES?? PLEEEEAAASEE!!!

that was the Best part of writing nine: HANDS DOOOWN!!! like i was fucking losing my mIND. it was hard to type bc i was laughing so hard. smh its the way that stan is so nice to like every person ever...

BUT DRAWS THE LINE @ BEBE!!! STAN WOULD /FIGHT/ BEBE.

i actually had all of the stan and bebe dialogue drafted four chapters before nine was even fully sculpted out from sheer Anticipation of their catty ass interactions!!! idk abt yall but i genuinely think they're so funny and Underrated as a duo bc they r literally just...Eachother?

AKA dramatic blonde crybaby bisexual demons (bebe is bi & tall in pep, ig, more on that later) and are Fiercely overprotective over their bestfriends...in a way they both did not know was homoerotic...Smh?

anyways: i swear to god, making bebe tall in peppermint was just to make myself laugh and make stan's life more miserable like wHEN SHE INSULTED HIM AND HE FULL ON GOT ON HIS TIPTOES JUST TO GET IN HER FACE I WAS KHDSSLKDHD SMHHHH x7327392

like: bebe stevens in her full beat full glam like 6ft tall and stan like hunched over, caked in v*m, looking like literal death, using his very last vestiges of strength to try and spite bebe & passive aggressively call her Barbara? Iconic! xx like when i say stan's walk of shame to wendy's house in peppermint shambled so that ravenstan could hot boy walk to whole foods for a 4am hangover green juice in the sharchanclas on TMZ i meant that. ( sidebar besitos 4 rs: ilysm bb )

so bebe in peppermint, ofc, must b canonically tall in order to tower over pep stan/make him extra miserable during Stan Season, but regardless of plot? she totally does just Give Tall vibes...and thats how i justified that hc. like her hair is so big n full of secrets! she IS giving Bombshell, Goddess n Skyscraper...buuut even tho in RM, i DID call her 'a leggy blonde' in and probably referenced her being Tall often...

I TAKE IT BACK, TBH!!!!

because i actually...feel like in RM...

barbara angelica stevens is SHORT?

*COLLECTIVE SHOCKED WHAAAT!!! AND GAAAAAAAASP*

but i digress!!! bc!!!!

...now, i did not intend this when writing rm ( i did not think it would end up being this complex or thought out tbh i'm insane ) but its largely my weird lesson on how Looks Can Be Very Deceiving..for example: how frightening and put together jerseykyle appears to hide how broken/lost/fragile/loving he is inside? or even just ravenstan being like a hot boy celeprettyshittyboy sex symbol on stage and actualy just being boyfailure idiot eco emo boy stan off stage?

i feel like bebe's like that in the sense that she Gives steponme thick thighs save lives, mommydommy42069 vibes and oozes POWER and pure seduction...but does that all while being literally like 5 ft tall.

like ok i see you!! my pint sized polly pick those pockets QUEEN!!!!

wow jfc nonnie...tySM for this message!! ur a Genius, my friend! bc like actually, no, it makes so much MORE sense for bebe to have all that Personality in that little body ( which, kyle is bone thuggin enough for everyone in RM, bebe stevens is a plus size princess and has definitely obliterated a watermelon w/ her thighs for money. )

also because i totally think that jerseykyle sees her acting a mess at parties and just like Carries Her Out under his arm like yeah no thats enough for tonight barbie ok lets go princess *exaggerated eye roll*

( which...does it make perfect sense that jerseykyle would use pet names? no? but u know what!!! i Do think he would flip u off n call you sweetheart sarcastically!!! and whats more!!! i bet it sounds crazy stupid levels of B.A.D. in the jersey accent so anyways! its canon and its making me Blush! rm bebe stevens having been in love with one man and it being jersey kyle broflovski both at age 11 and age 21 is so REAL!!! he does not do bfs but he does do girlfriends sometimes just for marj and bebe...especially when weird guys are out at bars okay!! )

kyle broflovski is not a boys boy but he is a Boys...Girl. LHDLKSHD.

ANYWAYS!!!!!

long story short ( lmaoooooooooo )

peppermint bebe: taller than you and cooler than you, has a legit modelling contract as a senior in high school -- so does tolkien btw, runs her big mouth, runs shit but never EVER in PE, sphs hbic and had to stand on the step BELOW stan to kiss him during the spring musical (YES STAN THREW UP!!!! FOR REAL ACTUALLY!!!! HELP!!! )

rm!bebe: a beautiful gorgeous five nothing nothing wo(menace) who scams rich dudes out of their bitcon online, claims she wears bigger heels than ur dick & is like a lil purse dog pomeranian personified tbh

hope this helps!

uncle nina, who posted the least helpful ask reply ever

p.s. re: bebe stevens -- i have an ask about her where i talk about her more in detail so i'm trying not to go into too much detail, but she means a lot to me and i'm glad ur thinking of her!!! tbh it's funny? other than STYLE tbh, i get the most compliments about my bebes!!! which is so CUTE AAAA!!! i feel her in my soul so i'm glad u like her!

p.s.s. I WAS THINKING ABT HOW I I MADE BEBE A RAVENSTAN STAN IN RM ORIGINALLY HOW MUCH DO YOU WANT TO BE THE SECOND SHE KNOWS STAN IS RAVEN SHES LIKE WOW EW NEVERMIND COMPHET WAS CRAZY HER AND STAN IN EVERY NCU WANT TO KILL EACHOTHER ITS UNSERIOUS SHLKDKDHSD

#i said so much and nothing #bebe has to stay tall in pep to torture stan #but bebe can be short in rm and still That Bitch #i know this was abt bebe but like honorable OR DISHONORABLE BC FOR A LAWYER THAT MAN IS PERMANENTLY FINED #like whew scary skyscraper jersey in the power suits at parties protecting the girlies picking bebe up and throwing her over his shoulder #while shes screaming at some girl across the bar like Smh #their bestie dynamic is so iconic and its funnier putting her next to him when hes tall asf and shes short but both scary hot #they do show up at the bar and take twins home #iconic #a ryan and sharpay level of iconery #but either way regardless of height bebe stevens is just Tall like idgaf if shes short shes TALLER THAN ANY NCU CHAR #like bebe and stan mirror eachother in terms of their romantic rivalries and their best friends/relationships and stuff #but i do think that kenny and bebe #are like...glamazon and trailer park copies of each other #like kenny and bebe in my fanfics are just the chaotic friend #and thats so real they are my favorite characters to write #also pep wendy is short and rm wendy is tall....#js js js #WAIT I WAS THINKING ABT HOW STAN AND BEBE WERE ALMOST FRIENDS AND THEN HAD THAT MISUNDERSTANDING IN PEP 11 #LIFE IS SO BAD I HATE IT HERE Y DID I WRITE THAT

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magnum-caelum · 24 days

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Does your character have a physical trait that they're known for?

Does your character have a favorite outfit?

If your character had to get a tattoo what would it be?

Is there an item your character liked that they can’t get back?

Where is your character's comfort place?

Is there a habit your character has that they learned from someone else?

How does your character relax?

Is there a secret thing your character longs to hear?

Does your character have a sleep routine?

for Kishyan, Vittoria, and Noah :D

- tired

Does your character have a physical trait that they're known for?

Kish has pretty prominent dimples when he smiles. And you get to see them often, because he smiles a lot!

Vittoria has freckles that fans think are adorable. She also has a heart-shaped birth mark on her calf!

Noah's most notable feature is his habit of covering his face. But in the few times he's appeared without face coverings, his deep-set eyes are noticeable. Other than that, his broad shoulders. He hits the gym a lot.

Does your character have a favorite outfit?

Kish? Not really LMAO. Most of the time he throws on whatever seems the most comfy. So his favorite outfit would be sweats and a hoodie.

Vittoria likes this comfy long-sleeved crop top, paired with some skinny jeans and jewelry.

Noah likes wearing team merch a lot. Doesn't necessarily have a favorite outfit, but has a favorite jacket. it's nice, soft leather that he's had forever.

If your character had to get a tattoo what would it be?

Kish would get those solid bands around his biceps.

Vitty would get a simple/minimalist butterfly and flower design on her arm or a pattern of flowers on her thigh.

Noah would probably get those like smoky flame type tattoos. Maybe across his arm-shoulder. (like the photo below. credits to tattoo artist Neo Nguyen)

Is there an item your character liked that they can’t get back?

Kish had a computer that he really really liked. Doesn't remember the brand of it or anything, it was a laptop that his dad had gotten for him. And it got stolen. He still thinks about it from time to time and gets salty.

Vittoria's lost a bracelet her uncle had gotten her once. She was really upset about it for a long time.

Noah can't get back his relationship with his parents hahaahahahaa...

Where is your character's comfort place?

Kish: Either Eli or Miguel's room. Not cuz they're in a relationship or anything (they're not. yet, anyways), just cuz he feels comfortable in his friends' room. It's been far from the first time that either Eli or Miguel have pulled back their covers, excited to go to sleep, only to be met with a curled up Kish hugging their pillow asleep.

Vitty: Her little nook-sunroom!

Noah: In the driver seat of his car. It's the one place he can really call his own.

Is there a habit your character has that they learned from someone else?

Kish: Developed Miguel's habit of walking around the house shirtless lol. Other than that, his big brother's habit of raising his eyebrows (both of them) whenever things get awkward.

Vittoria's answered here!

Noah sees himself adopting Bas's habit of drinking tea. He'll be boiling water on a kettle and be like "ah. He's rubbing off on me isn't he."

How does your character relax?

Kish relaxes by watching Bollywood shows. Reminds him of his mom. Either that or hanging out with friends.

Vittoria relaxes with her cat or by going for a drive with her siblings.

Noah doesn't relax.

Is there a secret thing your character longs to hear?

Kish wants to hear that he isn't annoying, that he's genuinely liked by people.

Vittoria's... pretty good actually.

Noah would like to hear that everything is going to be okay and that he's enough as he is.

Does your character have a sleep routine?

Kish? Absolutely not. Stays up till 3 playing games and wakes up at 12 pm. And then goes to sleep at 10 the next day and wakes up at 6.

Vittoria has a pretty normal routine. Doesn't even get jetlagged.

Noah has insomnia. Tries to sleep at 10-11 every night but it doesn't always work out. And he's a very very light/surface sleeper. Feels like he doesn't actually get rest half the time.

#> noah #> vitty #> kish

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readitback · 1 month

Text

natural egg dye

So, I had tried homemade dye in another year with the results of a disappointing garden harvest, and underestimated how much plant material and time natural egg dye takes. I tried again with a little more planning and the colors were still... subtle. If you want to try natural dye for eggs I recommend these things:

Use more of whatever plant, vegetable, scrap, etc than you think you need. Plan ahead if you're trying to use kitchen scraps or be low waste, because you will need a lot.

Leave the eggs for a while. I kept wanting to mess with them, but the best results were the ones I put in before bed and took out when I got home from work. (Note I did this at room temperature not in hot water, that may play a role). Trying to let them dry and go back in to deepen the color resulted in the original layer just getting washed off and the end result was lighter than I started with.

Let the color dry. Most of the eggs I took out looked white still, with a grey film, then I left them on the counter and the next morning they were the color I was expecting. Note, the color was kinda mottled, not even. There were also white patches where the egg rested on the bottom of the jar.

Other details that aren't advice per se, but just what I did:

I started with empty eggs shells. I poke holes on the end and blow the yolk out. Not necessary, I just wanted to keep them. If you do this the eggs get very brittle from the vinegar etc., so be gentle.

I also don't necessarily recommend keeping them. Even after a few days the color seems to be fading on some. I will keep them but maybe this is an exercise in finding beauty in the ephemeral.

I made the dye by pouring boiling water over the scraps in jars, then filtering into different jars. Then put the eggs in the jars to sit. This is because I didn't want to have to keep washing pans, maybe simmering in a pan would have made the dye stronger.

Because I was leaving them so long I don't put vinegar in the dye. I tried that first and took out a floppy, wiggly shell - cool but not what I was going for. Instead I let the egg sit in diluted vinegar for 5 to 10 minutes before putting it in the dye.

Reusing the dye didn't really work for me, it stuck a lot less or not at all for the second eggs, I think because the solution took on the calcium from the shell.

Some started as brown eggs and I used candle wax and a paintbrush to paint and stencil designs on before using vinegar to lift the color off the shell - rinse and gently wipe these to get the brown off.

Colors:

Brown, my chickens just do that

purple, red wine, whatever type (yes I got the glittery crystals the internet talks about but it took a few days to appear)

Blue, red cabbage. Last time I tried this the red cabbage made a grey blue, this time was pretty bright. May be because of the type or maturity of the cabbage. The grey blue was from a stunted cabbage from my garden. The bright blue was from leftovers from store bought.

Green (very pale in these pictures), pink oxalis flower petals. Most wildflowers will result in green. The water itself was hot pink and turned lavender after the egg sat in it overnight.

Orange (not pictured), carrot, didn't really work for me. I tried shaving instead of purée-ing.

Let me know if you want any more details! Or share if you have done this and have tips to get better coverage or different colors!

#easter egg #easter decorations #natural dye #made

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doodlesandbooks · 3 months

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Do you have any head cannons for Alfred, Alear, Etie, and Veyle?

I absolutely do!!! Thank you so much for the ask Anon, this was so much fun!

I have quite a few, so I'm going to put them in a list:

Alfred:

Even though he wants to be strong and exercises a lot, he's actually not that strong, in fact, he's fairly delicate physically.

He has this sort of beautiful handsome prince air about him that is immediately shattered when he opens his mouth, it's hard to be a mysterious heart throb when the first thing out of your mouth is "what's your favourite muscle?"

He eats pretty much plain chicken an boiled veg because he's worried that eating anything too adventurous will set off an attack

He's besties with Yunaka, and even though they didn't have supports in the game, I like to think that he actively seeks out Alcryst because he likes to make people feel happier

He struggles with his body image, and feels uncomfortable in the pool when there are guys with his ideal body type there, particularly Seadal and Diamant

He loves dogs.

Alear:

Alear is autistic and ADHD (Me projecting? More likely than you think)

She has a lot of issues with self disgust due to her heritage and trauma, but she is working on it, particularly with the help of Veyle who struggles with a lot of the same stuff.

Due to her having nightmares (Tiki bond convo) she likes to sleep with Sommie, and post S-support struggles to sleep without her pact ring person (cough Alfred cough). An emblem will do, but she prefers something physically there to hug.

She loves watching birds, and would love lofi if it existed in the FE universe (maybe it does?)

She plays piano, but only by ear, she found trying to learn reading music restrictive.

She doesn't have much of a sense of pain, which is why so many supports have a 'let me fix you up, since you don't take care of yourself' bit, because, not only is she a bit reckless, but also can't really tell when she's hurt.

Her eyes do the cat eye shining thing and some of her teeth are sharp.

Her hair, due to the magic dragon thing, always pools or billows in just the right way with just the right lighting, Hortensia is envious. I like to draw her a little more chubby than she is in game because body diversity in fire emblem exists if I say it exists

Etie:

She's not super tall, but is wide and buff - body diversity in fire emblem exists if I say it exists!

Her hair is quite thin, so she puts a lot of effort into styling it

She says her favourite food is her protein shakes, but really, her favourite food is Boucheron's home baked jam donut.

She loves the smell of honeysuckle and citronella candles relax her, when she went camping with Temerra and Fogado, she had no trouble sleeping because of how comforting she found the smell.

She gets really bad cramps, so once a month she always needs at least one day in bed with a hot water bottle and the Ibuprofen equivalent, I don't know why this is a head canon of mine, I just know that it's true.

She has freckles! She deserves freckles!

Veyle:

I love Veyle.

She trims her own bangs, which is why they're choppy.

She wears the broken bits of the dragon stone as a sort of good luck charm.

She goes nonverbal when seriously stressed, and tends to use a younger voice when coming out of it. She has some age regressive behaviours on bad anxiety days.

She loves to have her hair brushed, and likes Alear doing it best of all.

She doesn't like physical contact unless its with someone she trusts and who has explained what sort of physical contact it will be, hug, hair ruffle etc.

She's really not very good at setting boundaries after her time with Sombron, which means sometimes with people who are a bit more outgoing or heavy-handed, like Temerra or Etie, she feels overwhelmed and struggles to express her needs. She often likes to have someone to help her express herself in that sort of situation.

She uses her hair as a self soothing method.

#veyle #alear #alfred #etie #fire embelm #fire emblem engage #fe engage #asks #headcanons

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cheesesteakphil · 9 months

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🍽️🍿❌ and the fandom headcanon one I don't have whatever emoji that is. hope that isn't too many

(^ baby patrick. just in case)

Thank you for baby Patrick :)

🍽️: What is your Favorite Bugsnak?

It's a three way tie between Sherbie, Cheddorb and Millimochi. I genuinely think if I had to eat a bugsnak that Sherbie is the one I would enjoy most. Millimochi is also just so fucking shaped and to this day I still cannot stop saying it's name in the voice it has because it's SO satisfying to my brain. Cheddorb. It's a fucking cheese ball. Ball of cheese. Like the white bitch I am, I'm an absolute slut for cheese, and bugsnax allergy be damned I WILL consume that beast even if it kills me.

🍿: What do you think is the beef between Wiggle and Snorpy?

whatever the opposite of wlw and mlm solidarity is. wlw and mlm hostility.

Fr though I bet maybe Snorpy thinks because Wiggle is famous that she just *has* to be involved in the grumpinati in some way, why else would a celebrity be roughing it out on an island away from the spotlight? (kinda maybe a play on how it was a popular joke way back when that a shit load of irl celebrities were part of the illuminati, that's the best I got chief). I think it's one sided beef though I don't think Wiggle has genuine beef against Snorpy, but maybe he's not fully aware of who she is. Snorpy doesn't really seem the kind to be up to date with musicians, and maybe because of that, Wiggle's thoughts to him are mostly 'This fruit doesn't even know who I am I can't believe this. Everyone knows me.' /lh

❌: what's your least favorite bugsnak? Give us a detailed analysis on why.

Fucking. ok. Paletoss Grande. Motherfucker supreme. I am bitter about this rude ass piece of shit because it's such a fucking MENACE to me. LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE. It's partially due to the map design but the area outside Floofty's ship in Boiling Bay where that frozen whore roams makes it hard to avoid. And you gotta hang around there for a while doing quests. And every time I had to set up some elaborate loony toons ass type trap set up to get that thing to stop fucking following me. Not even catch it, just to get the beast out of the way so I can do my JOB. Catching it is a WHOLE other story it should NOT be that much of a pain in the ass. Maybe I'm not in on the sickest quickest popsicle melting/trip wire placement strats. Maybe so. But FUCK ME it's such a pain in the ass and the violence I will enact on that freak if there's ever a plush of it will be so venomous. Fuck Paletoss Grande.

🩷: What's a fandom headcanon that everyone agreed on that you love? Do you have any of your own headcanons you wish to share?

I don't really keep up with fandom wide stuff, especially since I've kinda just been keeping to myself recently and not actively participating but, if it's like, fandom wide agreed, but a lot of the time I see fanart of The Journalist™ (I mean like, Journalists that are portrayed as 'this is the standard player character' instead of an actual Journalist OC) they either have their face covered in some way, or are just absolute freaks (affectionate) that are aware of the game mechanics they have (no fall damage, respawn if they go too far in the water/get stuck etc) and I think it's very good. I don't really have any headcanons that I haven't already shared in the past. 99% of my bugsnax thoughts are just about Floofty and I know I have made those very well known lol

#bugsnax #ask #ask game #dr. phils' therapy talk session #dragonmickie

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creativeflowers87 · 2 months

Text

febuwhump (20)24

CW: slight body horror (only mentioned), self-destruction, slight injury

AN: idek what to say I blanked and then this was done

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Nyxie sat on the counter, casually watching her friend cook dinner. She may be a great apothecary, after all, but if there's one thing to know about her, it's that she cannot cook to save her life.

"Hi Calixto," she says for about the millionth time.

Calixto sighs, turning around to face her, back to the stove. "Hiya Nyx," it says, decidedly unimpressed.

It turns back around, but as it does so, it hits the side of the pot it was cooking in, and the hot, boiling water splashes all over its arm. It hisses, letting the pot containing the remainder of the water fall to the floor, sidestepping the spill. "Shit," it says, "Shit."

Nyxie reddens a bit. "I'm so sorry," she mutters, already rushing off to get something to fix the mess, and also something to help with the burn.

She returns after only a few minutes with full arms. She plonks the potions down on the table, and the burn cream, and the towels to clean up the mess.

Calixto raises its eyebrow. "D'you think you're goin' a little overboard?" it asks, "That's a lot of potions you got there."

Nyxie shrugs. "I know," she says, "Just want to be prepared, 'sall."

Calixto hums, inspecting the potions. It picks one up, squinting at the colour. "What's even in these?" it asks, "Your moss hair, or something?"

Nyxie stiffens. It was obviously a joke, but it was actually right.

After a bit of experimenting, she had worked out that putting something like moss into the potions made them a bit more potent, and, after a while, had gone a little overboard.

Calixto frowns. "Wait what."

Nyxie shrugs a bit, playing it off. "Well, maybe I—"

"I know what you did," Calixto interrupts, "Really, Nyx, what?"

Nyxie sighs. "Really," she says, "It was only for, like, medicinal purposes, and apparently it's magic as well because—"

"No," Calixto says, "This is concernin' because you're getting rid of your hair, idiot."

Nyxie pauses. For some reason, she had forgotten that was a reasonable argument. "Uh," she says, "I'm doing this because... I care about you?"

Calixto huffs. "You really expectin' me to believe that?"

Nyxie ducks her head. "Honestly, not really."

Calixto mutters something under its breath, before turning back to its friend. "What does it even do?"

Nyxie lights up a bit, which is... concerning, but she starts to talk before Calixto can say anything about it. "So," she says, "The type of moss on my face already has medicinal properties, like, it is helpful for coughs and stuff, and people already drink it in teas and things, so I was thinking because I was magicked back to life, I was wondering if it made the moss magic as well." Nyxie stops to take a deep breath, and Calixto cuts in.

"So, you just cut off a bit and put it in? Isn't the moss, like, alive? Not like regular hair?"

"Yeah."

"So did it hurt?"

Nyxie tries to steer the conversation away. "I mean, it's not really part of my body—"

"In the same way that your flower isn't part of your body, but when you pull on it it still hurts."

Nyxie sighs, finally sitting down on the couch. "Okay, uh, yeah it hurts if you cut it." She glances up to see Calixto's worried expression, and quickly assures, "Dude, it's fine, it's like, paper-cut level. Not that bad."

Calixto shakes its head, exasperated. "Just... don't be goin' ahead and doing that again, you tell me? Don't do that."

Nyxie gives a strained smile. "No promises?"

Calixto then decides that this is the perfect time to turn Nyxie's head into an armrest. "Don't do that again."

Nyxie huffs, but finally obliges. "Fine," she says, "I won't do that again."

Calixto un-armrest-s Nyxie's head, before inspecting the burn on its other arm again. "So..." it starts, "Are you goin' to help with my arm? Or maybe the spillage?"

Nyxie practically leaps off the couch. "Right, fuck!"

Calixto just laughs.

#cw mild body horror #cw injury #cw self destruction #flowers.docx #febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday24

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tainted-wine · 4 years

Text

Primal Dissonance

Hawks x Reader (NSFW)

So anon was like:

And since I’m total ass at writing short drabbles, or maybe it’s because they called me senpai, I ended up with a whole-ass fic. This took a different route than planned but I hope you enjoy, anon!

Words: 4.3k

Warnings: Dubcon, Pheromones, Mindbreak, Feral Hawks, Rough and Public Sex, Tit Abuse. This totally isn’t as dark as it sounds.

--------x--------

Hawks has been getting noisy. Not in the usual sense; he’s always a motormouth. No, he’s been making sounds that you’ve never heard him make.

At first you thought he was sick and something was irritating his throat, but on one occasion when you offered him water after hearing the sound, he almost looked offended. You concluded that it wasn’t an illness.

You later noticed that the noise often happens when it’s just the two of you together. During late night movie viewings at his place, he’d hold you close and release a constant hum, the vibrations from his chest and wings soothing enough to make you drift into sleep in his arms. You never saw the look of disappointment in his face as he decided to cuddle you for the rest of the night.

Just a few days later, he spots you during one of his patrols and presents you with a surprise expensive gift. A ruby pendant, the same brilliant shade as his feathers, was placed around your neck by gentle gloved hands.

“Hawks—why—what did I do to deserve this?” You asked while your eyes reflected the gemstone’s sparkles.

“Just wanted to give a pretty gift to my pretty girl.” He gave you a kiss, and waves of soft hums leave his mouth and into yours, flowing through your body, stimulating all of your nerves and triggering pleasant shivers. One makeout session later, and you both pull back to lock eyes. He’s looking at you expectantly, but you don’t even know what the hell he’s expecting.

You look to the side awkwardly. “Thank you, Hawks. It’s beautiful, but I…don’t have anything to give in return. This was a complete surprise, after all.”

His eye twitches, but he smiles and embraces you. “That’s fine, chickadee.”

A pigeon appears during your hug, and the soft coos emanating from it give you an epiphany.

“A pigeon! That’s what it is! You’re cooing like a pigeon!”

This time it’s his smile that twitches. Did you say something wrong? Whatever it is, he brushes it off with a half-hearted laugh. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

That was also the day you noticed his rising body temperature. You asked once again if he was feeling ill, and at least this time he didn’t appear to be upset when he answered ‘no.’

On the next night you spent in his home, he—and you’re still not over this—took your hand and pulled you in for a dance. It wasn’t some silly jig in which he blindly moved to a random pop song, it was a slow classic love song, and he moved both of you in an elegant dance fitting for a ballroom.

It was the last thing you expected from the hero that normally took you on KFC dates or, if he had the time, reserve a spot at his favorite yakitori place. But there was no way you could say that you didn’t like the way his feet glided across the floor, wings acting as a living cape that made each of his movements look all the more graceful, and you followed his pace as best as you could.

You clung onto him more tightly than intended when he dipped you after a spin, sharp avian eyes boring into you before he buries his face in your neck, and that’s when you feel more than hear the cooing return. It’s a tune that never fails to make you feel so warm and safe; you have no idea how his gentle sounds have such influence over you.

He looks pleased by your relaxed state, pulling you back up and brushing a few stray hairs out of your face. “So?”

You smiled and gave him a quick peck on the lips. “I didn’t know you had such grace, Hawks. Now hurry up, or we’re going to miss the movie for tonight!”

You scampered off into the kitchen to prepare the popcorn, completely oblivious to the baffled look your boyfriend was giving behind your back.

A few days later and you’re more certain than ever that he’s coming down with something, because now there’s a constant sheen of sweat all over his skin, and his breath sounded labored even when he was just sitting around. Since he ignores all of your pleas to stay home for just a day or two, you come up with another solution. Hawks pouts like a child when you tell him that a little nature and clean air might restore his health, but he still accepts your offer for a date at a nature park because hey, spending a day in natural beauty with you sounds great.

You practically dragged him into a bus after telling him several times that he shouldn’t tire himself out prematurely by flying both of you there. One long scenic drive later, you both arrive at your beautiful destination. The park was huge and lush with flora of all kinds, from tree-filled paths to endless flower fields.

Exploring everything this paradise has to offer with Hawks sounds like a dream, but your main goal was to loosen him up and help him feel better, so you avoided the populated areas, passing the cycling roads, the play areas, the bug houses, all of the charming attractions until you reached the long stretches of vibrant colors. The flower park.

You and Hawks began a slow stroll hand-in-hand, taking in the seemingly endless blooms, the trees shedding petals onto the walkway—all of it served as the most delicious treat for your eyes.

But when you looked at the winged hero to see if he was enjoying the scenery as much as you were, you saw that he was staring at you. His face was slightly flushed, but you couldn’t tell if it was the result of his feverish temperature or if he’s finding this whole date very romantic.

“The flowers are over there, birdbrain,” you joked with a squeeze of his hand.

His wing wrapped around you and pulled you in closer, encasing you in his abnormal heat. “The only flower that matters is right here.” There was a rough breathlessness to his voice that made the otherwise corny line sound sensual.

And then the coos returned, bringing you back to that pleasant world where everything was warm, soft, and safe. The red feathers surrounding you quivered and rippled like ocean waves of scarlet. You were supposed to be making him feel at ease here, not the other way around.

A chorus of chirps snapped you out of your stupor. You broke out of the hypnotic embrace and spot a bunch of small bouncing figures in the white lilac tree in front of you. “Aww, look at all of the little tits, Hawks!” You point at the flock of singing critters.

Hawks snorted immaturely.

Before you could withdraw your arm, one of the Japanese tits flew over and perched on your still-extended finger, leaving you bug-eyed and your mouth agape. “Hi there! You’re a brave little guy, aren’t you?” You said softly, hoping not to startle it. It tweeted in response, fluffing up its black and white plumage as it looked up at you curiously. “Hawks! It’s so cute!”

Red wings bristled, but you were too enamored with the friendly bird on your hand to even look back at your boyfriend. It continued to sing, the tits sitting in the tree joining in to create an adorable medley of chirps, tweets, and peeps. “Such a nice sound, I never realized how amazing these little guys are.” You keep watching the beady eyes that stare right back at you, feeling the bird’s little feet move quickly as it adjusted itself to get more comfortable.

And with a powerful slug from a hardened red feather out of nowhere, the tiny tit is knocked off of your finger and sent flying like a fucking golf ball.

Your pointing hand was still out as you looked on, eyes and mouth now wide open in horror instead of awe. The poor bird managed to right itself before it hit the ground, flapping frantically to ride the light breeze and fly past its tree of brethren and off into the distance, its sloppy turns and sudden drops betraying how dazed it was.

With your short-lived friend out of your sight, you turned to the man that ruined your magical bonding session, multiple negative emotions boiling inside you and ready to spill right onto this bastard. “Hawks!” You’re prepared to blow his ears off with every ounce of frustration, every concern that’s been plaguing you for the past week thanks to the strange changes that he refuses to talk about, but then you freeze.

The man’s face has darkened, eyes narrowed with its pupils shrunken into beady slits, lips pressed together in a tight frown—he looked enraged. But the terrifying look wasn’t directed at you, he was looking up at the innocent tits still residing in the tree and paying no mind to the violent treatment of one of their own. As his wings slowly spread with feathers sharpened, your chest constricted once you realized what was about to happen.

“Stop!” You threw yourself at him, grabbing at the outstretched limbs in a pitiful attempt to stop them, the bladed edges cutting your hands. It was still enough to shock and prevent him from launching any of the deadly weapons at the birds. You felt his feathers return to their soft fluffy state as he stumbled from your weight. “What the hell are you doing? What, are you pissed that it chose my hand instead of yours? The hell is wrong with you?”

Now he was aiming the glare at you, and you couldn’t help but shrink under the intimidation. His voice was shockingly low. “Just what game are you playing at here? Gushing over another bird’s song right in front of me?”

You eyed his still-expanded wings as you tried to make sense of what he said. “What?” Was all you could say.

“Here I was thinking you just had extremely high standards, but maybe you’re the type that likes to play hard to get, or make your guy jealous and see how he handles it.” He took a step toward you, and you took one back. “Well let me tell you, I’m not handling it very well.”

What he was implying would have made you burst into laughter if he didn’t look so threatening right now. “You’re…jealous? Of the bird that was on my finger?”

He laughed, or at least tried to, but the shortness of breath made him cough. The sudden anger must be worsening whatever has been making him hot and throaty for the past days. He needs to calm down for his own damn sake. “I guess I shouldn’t be, should I? Not for a girl who gets wet over any bird that does something as simple as approach her.”

“Excuse me?” Did you hear that correctly? No joke, did you really hear that shit correctly?

Hawks just keeps on going, taking your bewilderment as more mockery. “I give you something shiny, you don’t say anything.” A flash of several feathers and you feel your arms being pulled in front of you, the red tufts tying your wrist together.

“I put on a nice dance I practiced for, and you don’t say anything. Did you even notice that I cleaned and decorated the room that night?” You’re panicking from your tied hands and don’t see him fire another barrage that goes for your ankles, their tugs forcing you to lose your balance and fall hard onto the ground with a pained cry. Your hands are forcefully pinned above your head. “Hell, you seem to enjoy my song every time you hear it, so what’s the deal?”

While your heart is on the verge of exploding from its anxious beats, the gears in your head are spinning as you try to figure out how exactly this whole miscommunication even happened, but they keep jamming, filling your head with sparks and smoke of pure confusion. “What song? You haven’t been singing anything!” You yell as you fight against the feather-made cuffs around your hands and feet, but there was no breaking free. They suddenly felt as strong and durable as elastic metal.

Hurt flashes across his face and you don’t understand why goddammit, but it’s quickly masked with another scowl. “You mean the song that’s lulled you to sleep? The song that never fails to put you at ease every time? I can sense it, you know. How calm and pleased you feel whenever you hear it. I know it’s not the loud obnoxious tune of a songbird,” he glances at the tree that continues to emanate various calls as he kneels over you, nearly straddling your waist. Smart of him to keep his groin out of the range of your knees. “But you still enjoy it, right? I’m not too upset that you compared it to a shitty pigeon.”

You only stutter in shaky breaths as he lowers himself and presses all of his weight onto you, your eyes shut as he nuzzles your face lovingly. He feels like a furnace, the sweat from his face slathering onto yours from his rough rubs.

That’s when you smell something potent. You’ve picked up traces of it from him throughout the week, a strange but not unpleasant mixture of salt and sweet. You assumed it to be some sort of shampoo or cologne, but now it’s hitting you full force and it’s making your body…respond. With each inhale, the exotic scent sends a tingle down your abdomen and a release of wetness that dampens your clothing. What the hell is happening to you?

Hawks pulls away and sniffs the air. Your feminine aroma has him moan so suggestively that it makes your core heat up even more. “Oh, so this is getting you going?” He questions in a judgmental tone before something appears to cross his mind, and he laughs with a slap to his forehead. “I’m such an idiot. I’ve been doing this all wrong, haven’t I? You’re not a bird.” He kisses at the side of your face and licks the shell of your ear before whispering, “You’re a mammal. You don’t choose a mate by their pretty gifts or fancy dances.”

The lustful haze invading your mind almost distracts you from whatever is tugging at your pants and pulling them down. “H-Hawks…” You accidentally moaned. You were too out of it to even properly convey your worry. Your pants are removed and something tickles your hips to remove your panties next—that’s when you identify them as more feathers.

“With mammals, males just take what they want. They catch her, hold her down, and fuck her on the spot.”

You gasp when your lower body is completely stripped and exposed—a mistake—Hawks’s intoxicating smell rushes into your mouth and nostrils, making you clench and gush. He lifts himself just enough for the living binds around your wrists to pull and drag you off of the stone walkway and into the blooming batches. The flowers were just tall enough to probably hide you from anyone at a distance, but the winged man crawling over and sitting in front of your feet would easily give you away. “Hawks, someone…might see us,” you mutter.

He only chuckles. “Good, I want them to see. Are you little bastards watching?” He looks up at the lilac tree that now looms right over both of you. The resting tits have gone quiet, most likely intimidated by the large bird-human hybrid that continued to glare at them.

The response was ridiculous enough to temporarily free you from your trance. “I’m not worried about the birds, you dumbass.”

“Hmph, of course you’re not. You’d let them all join in if I’d let you, wouldn’t you?”

You have so many questions about how that would even work.

But you’re interrupted by the feathers around your ankles pulling your feet apart, easily overcoming your resistance and spreading you wide open for the hero in front of you. You have to look away from just how soaked you are, juices flowing from your swollen pussy and onto the soft soil, some of it sticking to your parted thighs in strands. The sight makes Hawks salivate.

“I’m at the peak of my rut and I’m tired of waiting. Gonna make you mine.”

It’s all he says before his entire mouth is on your cunt, tearing a startled cry from your throat. The peaceful sounds of the wind and rustling leaves are overshadowed by the absolutely filthy slurps, sucks, and growls between your legs. He was being a greedy savage that simply wanted to drink you up. There were no careful methods or patterns, just a hungry tongue that lapped at every inch of you and lips that sucked on anything they could grip.

You could barely even writhe from the onslaught, what with your arms pinned over your head and your feet held down so strongly that you couldn’t even move them across the dirt. You kept your sights on the rich colors of various flowers that encircled you as the sweet-smelling haze enveloped you again, enhancing your pleasure. Despite Hawks’ sudden loss of his oral skills, the feral nature of it all—the smothered snarls against your sex, the startling feel of his teeth carelessly grazing your sensitive flesh, and the lewd sight of his face covered in your glistening juices as his glassy eyes opened and stared into yours as he ate you alive—his voracity had you boiling over.

He gulped your essence loudly, welcoming every drop of the orgasmic flood into his mouth. All of the colors in your vision blurred more with each mind-numbing pulse. You weren’t even aware of the shameless wails that left you until the blissful waves finally subsided.

Once he had his fill, he finally pulled away from your mound and boy did he look like a hot mess. His cheeks were a deep red that was slowly spreading across his cum-covered face, a beady string of your fluids hanging from his lips before dripping off. He was climbing back over you and when the fuck did he take his pants off? He must have unbuttoned and removed them while he was licking you into heaven.

He still manages to look smug while he takes in your spent form, your slightly parted lips impossible to resist. Your mouth was suddenly locked with his, the breath you were desperately trying to get back stolen from you. And then the scent returns, this time accompanied with a powerful salted lemon flavor that assaults your taste buds. The taste of your own pussy was insignificant; his aroma in both your nose and mouth is nearly suffocating, your still-recovering inner walls already squeezing out more of your slick.

His tongue thrashes about in your mouth to paint his sweet saliva on every spot he could reach. You swallow it up thirstily and feel an immediate response in your throat that somewhat frightens you. Numbness overtakes your mouth and your throat relaxes completely; you felt like it was suddenly impossible to choke.

Hawks messily pulls away, breathing heavily and licking his lips. “Look at you. All it takes is a whiff and taste of a rutting male to turn you into a submissive little bitch.” You’ve never heard him speak like that, but like every action he’s taken since you’ve been at his mercy, it doesn’t fail to arouse you for reasons you still don’t understand. “Do you want some more? Hmm?”

You’re nodding before your crippled mind can comprehend the question.

The drugged kiss has you dizzy. You’re doing your best to keep track of his movements as he straddles your chest, his cock coming into focus and pressing against your lips. He doesn’t give you a command, you simply open up like a trained whore.

You’re moaning from the addicting taste of his length that pushes all the way to the back of your throat. Once his pubes are flush against your nose, your eyes roll back and you lose all sense of…everything. Everything except for that exhilarant fragrance and flavor.

Even as he begins to move in your mouth, your tongue swirls all around the sweet meat in an attempt to taste him all over. You’re throbbing wildly, but the feathers prevent you from bringing your thighs together for some much needed friction.

He was thrusting in and out at a pace that should have you gagging, but you take the pounding smoothly. Everything was murky, save for the pleasure that was slowly consuming you. You think the birds are singing again, maybe.

Something was smacking against your chin…rather loudly, you think. Hawks’s balls. How obscene, the way he’s hunched over you and fucking your face so roughly, but it’s hard to feel embarrassed when it’s all making you feel so damn good. Drool gathers and drips down your mouth. Your throat has become a second pussy, and he was fucking it like one.

The scent has your entire body on fire and you wish so badly that you could touch yourself. It was too powerful, each breath filling you with more burning tension. Your desperate whines came out as bubbly gurgles around his hammering dick. Your climax is dangling right at the edge. All you need is just the smallest touch on your drenched, deprived pussy.

His thick intrusion suddenly leaves your mouth, allowing oxygen to properly enter your lungs and for the pooling saliva to be swallowed. Hawks says something as you cough and sputter, but everything is still too muffled.

“Good……….not yet……….finish inside.” That was all that you were able to catch. You frankly don’t care. You immediately want his overpowering scent back.

When something pushes past the entrance between your legs, you cum instantly. Your scream is silent, or maybe you just can’t hear it, as your restrained limbs twitch like mad from the excruciatingly pleasurable contractions.

You’re already being fucked roughly while you’re still coming down from your orgasmic high. You’re rocked against the flowers and the soft earth beneath, your peaceful surroundings a stark contrast to the raunchy act currently taking place among them.

Hawks leans in once again, and you have to turn away and hold your breath because you truly felt like one more whiff of that mouth-watering smell would bring you the most euphoric death. His mouth drew closer to your ear, harsh pants in sync with his rapid thrusts. There’s no way a body was meant to handle so much stimulation, yet you didn’t want it to end.

You wanted this powerful man and everything that he had. You want him to fill your womb with his seed…bear his strong and healthy offspring…then let him take you all over again…

There’s a soft rumble that brings you back down to earth, clearing your mind just enough so that all of your senses work properly again. The smudged colors return to their original shapes, and the cooing that vibrates through both of your bodies can be heard loud and clear. His song.

“That’s it, baby. I’ve got you right here. Just give in to me.” Hawks sounds on the verge of losing his voice, weak and graveled, but his singing and hips aren’t letting up.

Finally, fucking finally, the feathers release your limbs. Ignoring how boneless they feel, you use all of your strength to wrap your arms tightly around his neck, and your legs lock right above his ass. You cling onto him like a parasite and moan freely, trusting his low and soft vocals to keep you grounded as his citrus aura captivates you again.

Your involuntary clenches ruin him and take him to his peak, several more hard and deep pumps bringing you to your final climax. Both of you cry out loudly enough to scare away the tits still resting in the tree, the small flock flying off to find a quieter perch.

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Good. That showed the little bastards.

Hawks smiled triumphantly as the small birds fled the erotic scene. Once he was certain that none of them were coming back, he returned his attention to you. Your chest heaved with each audible breath, your entire body drenched in sweat, just like his. He laid a gentle hand on your cheek, thumb stroking lovingly as you close your eyes for much-needed rest after almost losing your mind.

He did it. He finally claimed you, and all he had to do was just show a little dominance…and expose you to a hefty dose of pheromones. It was clearly way more than you could handle—maybe the face-fucking wasn’t the best idea, but it looked like you were enjoying yourself enough. No harm done.

“Excuse me, sir?”

Hawks was a cool-headed man. He’s managed to stay calm and collected in the direst of situations. Still, when he slowly turns around to see a man dressed in the park’s staff uniform, blushing at the sight of a sweaty couple with no pants on among the innocent blossoms, he can’t help but feel just a wee bit fucked.

“H-Hawks? It’s really you? Wha-?” The poor guy is lost for words from the fact that he just found the number 2 hero banging someone in public.

Eh, he’s talked his way out of tighter spots.

With a smile, the winged hero sends a few feathers to his discarded pants and withdraws a pen from its pockets.

“How about a deal, buddy? An autograph from yours truly and a coupon for my merch. All you gotta do is walk away and forget what you just saw.”

#hawks #smut #birdbrain hawks #hawks x reader #keigo x reader #keigo takami x reader #tw dubcon #tw animal harm

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