#and I completely switch the litter once a week

[lesbiansanemi]

I am so…. SO tired of my cat peeing everywhere

#and before ANYONE tries any suggestions #yes I try and clean litter box once day but AT LEAST every two days #and I completely switch the litter once a week #I’ve tried different litter. I have more than one litter box. I’ve tried putting it in different places #we’ve tried pheromone collars and sprays and deterrents #we’ve tried herbs cats dont like #she’s been to the vet over this issue and it’s not a medical thing #we literally cannot leave ANYTHING in the main apartment (she is not allowed in bedrooms BECAUSE of this issue) because she will PISS ON IT #we’ve had to put ANTI CAT SPIKES on our couches so she stops pissing on them #but now that we’ve removed literally everything and everywhere for her to piss #does she do it in the litter box? #NO!!! SHES JUST PISSING IN THE FLOOR NOW!!!!! #which honestly is five billion times easier to clean than when she pissed on the couch or shoes or anything like that #but godDAMN #PLEASE #JUST PISS IN THE FUCKING LITTER BOX I AM GODDAMN BEGGING YOU #ITS BEEN THREE YEARS OF THIS SHIT AND I AM TIRED #I AM TIRED OF MY MORNING ROUTINE CONSISTING OF SCRUBBING CAT PISS OFF THE FLOOR #kaz rambles

[huhniebowl]

Pink

dominic fike x reader

warning(s): smutty smut smutt yo, try at some plot yet again, lil long and all that…this filthy yall

a/n: there's for sure a ton of grammar edits that need to be made, so bear with me while i work on them! i can never seem to catch them all first day

enjoy, thanks to this yummy ass freaky ass request lmao 💗 sorry it took so long, i'm a slow writer...

¥

You sit between Dominic, your thighs spread and thrown over his legs. 

He lays back against the headboard, pink blankets, and furry throw pillows around the two of you as he trails his hands up your quivering legs. 

Your canopy, a sheer pink fabric floating above your bed, does little to hide the two of you. 

His warm palm contradicts the chill of the rings littering his fingers–and it makes you jolt when they caress your inner thigh.

He’s fully dressed. 

A well-worn leather jacket, its surface scuffed and softened with time, hangs open over a plain fitted t-shirt, showing his solid build underneath. And jeans, their denim rough against the smooth skin of your legs. 

The build-up to this wasn’t the most ideal. A lot of pent-up frustration. 

He’d asked you to come with him to his YSL after-party. Usually, you'd be ready to transform yourself into his arm candy for the night, the touch of his hand lingering on your lower back as you walked into the club with him. 

But this time, a different kind of excitement bubbled within you – your best friend's birthday party. 

You'd promised weeks ago to go clubbing with her and some friends, and the thought of letting her down felt worse than seeing the frown that started creasing your boyfriend's forehead. 

A tense silence stretched over the two of you. 

"You're going out with them again?" his voice was flat, a stark contrast to his usual playful tone. You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms. 

"It's Aria's birthday, Dom," you say, jutting your hip and leaning your weight to your right leg. "I promised weeks ago."

"This is the third time this month you’ve blown me off," he countered, sucking his teeth. "It's a big night for me. You fuckin’ know that man!” 

A part of you understood, a nagging guilt prickling at your conscience. Maybe if you’d mentioned her birthday earlier, things could have been different.

But you also had a life, commitments you couldn't break at the last minute. Silence stretched between you again before you stated you were going for a shower, not having the energy for an argument. 

You came out of the bathroom to an empty apartment, and anger started to simmer beneath your skin. 

No goodbye kiss, no I love you. 

Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself. Tonight was about Aria. Not you, and not your pissy boyfriend. You wouldn't let his actions ruin your night. 

Glancing at your phone, you switched it off. Letting silence and your disconnect speak for you. You hope he got the message. 

He did. 

Swaying slightly, you walked back into your apartment, the gems stitched into your tight two-piece glimmering in the warped light of the city skyline that was bleeding in through your windows.  

It was your skimpiest set, one that usually earned a cheeky ass grab from Dominic.  

You’d only worn it once and promised only to wear it when going out with him. 

Which is why he clenched his jaw and exhaled through his nose when he saw you saunter in through the door at two am in that same set—reaching for the wall to peel off your boots. 

Completely oblivious to his presence. 

He watched as a giggle escaped your lips when you turned to look at yourself in the hallway mirror. 

Your mascara and eyeliner smudged and the glitter eyeshadow you'd swiped from Aria’s makeup bag, migrated into tiny, shimmering stars under your eyes. 

Your eyes are red and lidded, a remnant from the blunt you and Aria hotboxed her car with before she dropped you off. 

Combined with the tequila swirling in your system, you were in a heady euphoria. Ready for sleep, the comfort of your pajamas, and your bed.

Breathing a content sigh, you turned towards the living room, and your playful smile vanished the moment your eyes met your boyfriend's sprawled form on the couch.

The two tequila shots sloshed comfortably in your stomach, but the weed buzzed a different kind of energy through you. Your limbs felt light, almost detached, and the edges of the room seemed hazy,

Dominic being the only thing your mind was processing. 

Your argument replayed in your mind, a sour note against the fuzzy high. He sat with his hands clasped loosely in his lap, legs sprawled, and his posture slouched. 

His gaze roamed your body, lingering a second too long on your nipples poking through the thin fabric of your top, before flicking back up to meet your eyes. 

He looked pissed, and a chill of satisfaction wisped over you. 

With an off balanced sway in your hips, you stumble over to him, ready to piss him off more than he already looked. 

The closer you got, the air hung heavy with the acrid scent of a strain you’re familiar with. He was high, pupils dilated and glassy, mirroring yours. 

There was an edge to him, a dangerous undercurrent, and it only fueled your ego. A twisted knot of pleasure growing in your chest knowing you were the reason for it. 

You grinned, throwing one leg on either side of his thighs, straddling him on the couch. Dominic lifts his eyes to yours, staring you down despite being under you. 

You feel his body flex under you.  

“Awh, you look pissed baby.” you pouted, voice dripping with mock sympathy. You tilted your head to the side raking your acrylics through his hair, and pushing it back from his face. His eyebrow piercing glinted when his head knocked to the side under the aggression of your hand. 

The saccharine dripping from your voice was enough to curdle milk. "What’s wrong? You can tell Mama." you cooed, nodding with fake concern.  

Dominic's jaw clenched, a flicker of something like a warning sparking in his eyes before he let out a humorless laugh, licking his bottom lip and looking away from your face. 

His leg started to bounce, a telltale sign of his patience wearing thin.

You weren't sure where this new attitude came from, but a thrill snaked through you as you realized you were effectively getting under his skin. 

The earlier fight still hung heavy for you, and you found yourself reveling in this power trip. 

Before he could pull away, your hand tightened around the fist full you had of his hair and yanked him back to face you. 

"Oh, I think I know," you purred. "Is Dommy mad that I turned my phone off?" You pouted again, the childish facade at odds with the glint in your eyes. 

"Yeah, that's what it is, isn't it? Or is it because I wore your favorite little two-piece without you?” 

You pulled his head back so his adams apple was barred, “Maybe next time don’t leave without acknowledging me first, yeah?” 

You leaned in, lips hovering over Dominic’s. You could smell the mint and alcohol in his breath, before moving to his ear. 

“Fuck you.” You whispered, patting his cheek with a smile. 

Pleased, you moved to get off him but halted when his hand grabbed at your hips and squeezed tight, forcing you back. You gasped at the sudden pressure, wincing slightly when he pressed harder over the bone. 

“Are you fucking stupid?” Before you could sass him back, Dominic’s hand flew to your neck and pressed at the pleasure points on the side of your throat.

“Oh come on, you didn’t expect me to let you talk to me like that?” Your clit pulsed, this is a side of your boyfriend you’d never seen. And you’d be lying if you said you weren’t getting worked up by his attitude. You pressed down on his lap and felt his dick hard and poking under his jeans–a grin spread across your lips. 

“But you like it,” You wrapped your fingers around his hand on your neck, and slightly squeezed, not breaking eye contact. “Don’t you Dommy?” 

And now you’re in your current position.

“You’re fuckin’ crazy,” Dominic mutters. The hand that’s not working your thigh, sliding down your top to fondle your tits. Your nails dig into his leg, a whimper leaving your lips.

“You know better than that.” He flicks your clit through your shorts, and a pathetic squeal comes out of your throat at the pain. This was a side you weren’t familiar with, a side of him you didn’t know he could tap into. You’re unsure how to act, but a sick thrill washes over you. 

“Dom please,” You breathe, “I didn’t mean—.”Dominic tuts, and muffles you with the palm of his hand. 

“Yeah, you did, baby.” he slips his hand into your shorts and presses two fingers against your swollen clit, rubbing soft circles that causes your breath to catch. He’s barely applying pressure, just toying with you. 

“No panties huh?” he tilted his head back, nostrils flaring as he expelled a long breath. The movement sent a shiver down your spine, and your stomach lurched. 

You suck in a shaky breath, lips parting to defend yourself when his fingers tap on your lips with surprising force. He pushes them through and lets his middle and index fingers press down your tongue.

“Learn to just shut the fuck up.” he runs his tongue along the top of your ear and is quick to move his hand up from your shorts–pressing on your abdomen to bring you down when your hips buck up.

“Fuck!” you whine around his fingers, head lolling to the side, hand squeezing at his leather jacket. 

He chuckles and tugs your shorts off, and he lands a smack against your sticky cunt before you can sigh in relief at finally having your shorts off. 

Your vision blurs for a second, the sharp sting lacing through you. Your eyes fly shut, a surprised gasp leaving you. Fingers twitching. You’ve never felt this before, and your pussy tingles in want at the pleasured pain. 

“You really wanted to piss me off tonight, huh?” his voice comes out scratchy and low. Like a threat, and you can’t help the way your cunt throbs. “Just needed everyone’s fuckin’ attention.”

You try to jerk your thighs close, but Dom’s quicker than you. Firmly gripping the meat of your thigh, and forcefully pressing down your right from the left. 

His fingers still loosely hang out the side of your mouth, your spit slick across the side of your face. Your pussy leaks, both from pain and arousal, and you’re desperate for more. 

Moving you around so that your legs are spread wider Dom pins you firmly against his chest.

“You don’t even deserve this.” he finally applies pressure to your clit, and your chest stutters. Sweat coats your body in a thin sheen making you appear dewy under the lit skyline pouring through your room window.

Dominic hooks his chin over your shoulder and peers his eyes down to your soaked cunt. He spreads your lips with his pointer and ring finger, the sound lewd. Your juices glimmer in the low light and Dom’s cock twitches in his jeans. 

“Fuck, look at that,” he whispers, using the pad of his middle finger to just barely brush over your pearl. Your body quivers, fingers spazzing when you throw your head back against Dom’s shoulder. 

“I—” You stutter, trying to find words. 

“Hm?” He taunts, pulling his fingers away from your pussy and to his lips. You whimper at the loss of contact, eyes blown wide when Dominic makes a show of sucking off fingers. He opens his eyes just barely, and peers over at you. “Where’d all that mouth go?” 

You try to speak again, but your mind blanks when the sound of Dominic’s belt unclasping filters through your ears. In a swift movement, he’s sliding out from behind you and removing his hand from your mouth. 

Immediately you find yourself missing his heat and the heavy pressure of his fingers on your tongue. 

Cool air rushes to your back where he once was and you shiver. 

“God, you really don’t deserve this.” he reiterates, as he removes his jeans. His shirt and jacket follow suit. You watch him in a daze, thrumming in anticipation. 

Just moments ago you were asserting dominance, and now your brain can’t process anything but the man undressing at the foot of your bed. He’s a stark contrast to the pink of your room. He looks out of place, despite being right where you need him. 

He crawls back to you, and for the first time today, Dominic catches your lips in a searing kiss. Your mouths clash in a hungry mesh of spit and tongue. Your highs make everything sloppy and disoriented, and so so good. Blindly grabbing, and taking each other apart. 

Your hand tangles in his curls, tugging at the hair on the nape of his neck and earning a grunt that you eagerly swallow. 

Take take take. You want all of him. 

You wander your fingers over the expanse of his body, nails dipping into the ridges of his stomach before slipping into his boxers, and wrapping your hand around his dick. 

Dom shutters, and he pulls away from your lips to grab your wrist–his grip tight in warning. 

“You don’t learn.”  His breath fans hot over your lips, slick with your shared spit. 

“Please Dom, just, please.” You’re downright whimpering at this point, pleading for him. Gone is your attitude from earlier, and Dominic laughs right in your face. It’s pitiful and he grins. 

“Awh, what's wrong princess?” His forehead creases, mock concern seeping out of his words, and then he dips his head down to nose at the sensitive spot of your neck, just under your ear. 

“You can tell Daddy.” He nods, curls tickling your cheek. 

Dominic mocks your words from earlier, moving your wrist above your head. Your free hand twitches under his chest, not quite touching, just hanging in the air. Unsure if he wants you touching him.

You’re scared, and so turned on. Pussy fluttering around nothing. 

“Oh, I think I know.” Dom releases your wrist and yanks you back by your hair, baring your throat out to him. Just like you did. 

“You want me to fuck you. That it?” 

You do. So bad. You’re not sure how much more you can take anymore, which is why you’re surprised when you feel your eyes get hot. You’ve never been brought to this point before, and you weren’t sure if you ever wanted to leave this headspace. 

You nod your head rapidly, tears glossing your eyes over. “ Yes, please, Dom. “I’m sorry.” You whisper, peering up at him with how he has your head positioned, and swallowing when you watch the side of his lip twitch up. 

“Maybe next time don’t bitch at me, huh?” He pats your cheek twice, just like you did. It stings a little, and your thighs twitch.

Dominic tilts his head to the side, hair sliding to the right with him. He simpers and says nothing. You feel your face start to burn, feeling so small under him like this, a hot tear streams down the side of your face. 

You watch Dom’s eyes follow it with rapt attention, and you part your lips ready to say something, anything, when his eyes snap back to yours and you feel the tip of his cock pushing its way into your throbbing pussy. 

Your eyes roll, and your mouth hangs open. A silent gasp stuck in your throat. 

You’ve fucked your boyfriend many times before. But this, this, is new. Feeling him like this was new, the bated breath, the heat, the intensity of it all. 

You feel him everywhere all at once, your body pulsating, ears feeling as if they're stuffed with cotton. 

You feel hot, molten almost, but you’re shivering. 

Dom bends your neck back further and nods his head while pushing himself in. Inch by inch you feel him filling you up.

His face is hovering over yours, as he watches you. Lips open and brush over your own as he loses himself in your heat. 

“Mhm, that’s it, baby. You feel me?” Dominic mutters against your mouth, and you wither, mindlessly lifting a hand to grab hold of his in your hair. 

You can’t speak, your brain is mush. Not a single thought processing. You feel full, the stretch one that you’ll never get enough of. He’s thick and heavy, and it’s almost too much. 

Then he snaps his hips, and you slur out a curse. A long drawn-out whine works its way out your throat and you squeeze your eyes. If you were in your right mind, you’d almost be embarrassed that such a sound left you. But you aren’t. 

Dominic snaps his hips one more time, and then he’s fucking you as if he’s on borrowed time. His hips grind quick and hard. He untangles his hand from your hair and interlaces it with one of yours, before tucking himself securely in your neck. 

He presses closer to you, and you wrap your legs around his waist. Ankles locked tight, and his heavy grunts fall into your neck. 

He’s a mess of praise and curses, your bodies sticking together and the smell of sex hot in the air. 

Your body jolts up with each thrust and you use your free arm to wrap around Dom’s back. Your acrylics scratch into his skin as you try to ground yourself. 

But you need more. 

“More, Dom,” You whimper out. “Please.”

He’s manhandling you around before your mind could process it. Head lifted from your neck as he turned you over on your stomach in a heated frenzy. 

Your face is mushed into your pillows at the foot of your bed, ass perked up.

“Never satisfied are you?” Dom grunts, slipping back inside you and giving you just what you asked for. He leans down so he’s molded to the shape of your back, and grabs hold of your throat from behind. 

You’re being fucked dumb, have no idea what you’re saying. If you’re even saying anything at all. Body tingling everywhere. 

“You feel so good, baby. So good for me.” Dominic praises, reveling in how good your pussy sucks him in. How warm and gummy you feel around him. Squeezing him just right. 

You’re both intertwined with pleasure, in a conjoined headspace that you hope never ends. You don’t even know how you both got to this point anymore. What you were arguing about in the first place.  Just that you want to keep fucking like this, want to always feel him like this. 

You start to feel yourself getting lifted off the mattress and then you’re on your knees, Dominic’s front still molded to your back. He reaches around and squeezes your right tit, fingers rolling your nipple. 

You reach back and grip his hair when he starts leaving messy kisses down the side of your throat. 

“Look. Look at yourself while I fuck you.” Dom orders, his voice vibrates through you and it takes all you have to peel your eyes open to see yourself through the mirror. 

It’s in the corner of your room, and you can only see the side of you and Dom as he snaps his hips into you. Your eyes lock with him through the mirror. He’s already staring at you through his lashes, hair wet and sticking to his forehead. His gaze is primal, something wicked and you feel your stomach start to tighten, pussy spazzing around him. 

“Oh fuck m’ gonna cum. Gonna cum.” you slur. 

“Yeah? You gonna cum for me?” He moves down to start rubbing tight circles on your clit, and you arch your back, throwing your head back against his shoulder. A chorus of yes’s. 

“Look.” He grunts again, hand moving off your neck to firmly grip your jaw and force your face back to the mirror. You look a fucking mess.

That coil in your tummy tying a knot so tight, you’re not sure you’re ready for it to snap. But you need it too. Need it so fucking bad. 

You bring a hand to grip Dom's arm that's resting on your abdomen, toes curled tight. 

“Right there, right there!” You squeal, feeling yourself weaken in his hold. Dom feels it too, and pushes you back down into your sheets, his pace harder in the new position. His arm is still wrapped around your waist, holding your middle half in a slight arch. 

“Cum for me, you can do it. Make me cum.” He’s whispering in your ear, “So fuckin’ close, cum with me baby.” 

And the pleasure that’s been brewing, thrumming throughout your body, breaks. 

You cum hard, Dominic’s name high-pitched and breathless when you reach down to tightly grip the corner of your mattress. Back arched high like a cat. 

Your pussy clamps down on Dom, walls spasming around his dick, and it sets him off. His struggles to close his eyes, they’re lidded as he drunkenly loses himself in your pussy, chasing his orgasm. 

You watch him through your mirror with low eyes. Watch as his mouth drops open. Watch as he drops onto you, squeezing you tight when he finally cums. Painting your walls white, and filling you up. 

You're both panting, trying to catch your breath. Dom starts to pepper kisses on the side of your face, and you turn your head to catch his lips. It’s slower than the one you shared earlier. Heavy with I’m sorry, and I love you. 

You pull away first, watching as a smile takes over his face. The position you’re in is awkward, but you both couldn’t care less right now. You reach around as best you can and brush his hair back from his eyebrow, softly rubbing your thumb over the piercing. 

“So, how was clubbing without me? Boring huh?” You grin a shit-eating grin, and Dom rolls his eyes when you start laughing. 

“Fuck off.”

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[thepascalofus]

Supply Run - Return (part two)

AO3

PART ONE

Supply Run - Exchange (part three)

Pairing: Mando/Din Djarin x afab!Reader

Word Count: 8.0k

Summary: You’ve been Mando’s crew partner for a year now. Throughout that year Mando has warmed up to you and given you signs that your heart throbbing crush on him is reciprocated. There’s one thing making you hesitate. The condoms he bought on the most recent supply run.

Chapter Summary: While Mando takes a trip to the market and gets what he needs, he ponders your relationship and what it means to him.

Content Warnings: MDNI, 18+ only! Switching POVs, post season 2, the Crest lives, strangers to friends to lovers, mentions of Grogu, soft!Mando, insecure!Mando (a smidge), helmet loopholes, pining, idiots in love, jealous!reader, sad!reader for a little, mentions of sex work (sex work is work!), eventual SMUT (making out, grinding, f!receiving fingering, f!receiving oral sex, p in v, PRAISE kink, dirty talk), FLUFF, cuddling, happy ending guaranteed!

A/N: Thank you all so much for the responses on the first part! This is my first fic that I've ever shared and it makes me so happy that other people enjoy my writing! Enjoy!

Mando handed his scope off to you in the worn down store. Wallpaper peeled from the ancient wooden planks of the walls. Cobwebs littered the untouched areas of the store. The work stations in the back, visible from the pick up counter at the front, were in complete disarray. Several projects started, but not finished. Several projects finished, but not retrieved.

You took the scope in your hand and twisted it in your hands until your gaze landed on the name of the manufacturer and the serial number. Your eyebrows shot up once the brand of the scope was revealed, it twisted in your hands once more. Hands raising the metal tube so it was level with your eyes, you looked into the scope. 

“Ah! I know what it is!”

Mando watched in confusion as you ran to a workstation and grabbed a singular tool. How did you know what was wrong so quickly? He sat in the hull of the Crest for hours attempting to fix the scope. The motions of taking the scope apart and putting it back together were etched into his brain from the number of times he did so. 

You returned to the front of the store with the tool in hand. “This manufacturer has been having these issues lately. They built their magnification system like no one else, but they didn’t seem to account for the need to recalibrate the scope every once in a while. Recalibrating too often causes the lenses to misalign.” 

Mando calibrated his every day. He had to. It was part of his job. A miscalibration could be the difference between a two hour hunt and a twelve hour hunt.

Your face twisted in concentration as you inserted the tool into the side of the scope. Jostling the metal, it popped open and allowed access to the inside. “For some reason they put these weird pins in…” You trailed off while you removed a total of three thin metal pins. Once the pins were removed, you clicked the top of the scope back into place and handed it to Mando.

Mando previously took the scope apart countless times. He never noticed any pins.

“Twenty credits, please.” You said with a smile. Your gaze met his–you somehow found it through his black visor–and you maintained eye contact.

The display on the inside of Mando’s helmet only progressed seven minutes after he entered the store. Inside of his helmet his eyebrows shot up. He was impressed. Not only with your efficiency, but with the reasonable price as well.

“I’m impressed.” He stated. Nodding at you, he retrieved a few credits from his utility belt and set them on the paint chipped counter. He turned and walked a few paces and then stopped in front of the door.

He’s been looking for a crew mate for weeks. The potential candidates he’s stumbled across were either annoying, rude, or incompetent. Throughout his time as a bounty hunter he’s been to countless repair shops. The service was always lack-luster, prices were too high, repair time much too long. 

Sure, he just met you eight minutes ago, but you had potential. He turned on his heel and faced you. Armor glinted in the low lighting of the run down shop. 

“Are you in the market for a new job?”

–

Walking to the market, he’d been reflecting on his decision to bring you onto the Crest as a crew partner.

It was the best decision he ever made, besides saving Grogu from the Empire.

You were intelligent. Friendly. Resourceful. Efficient. Brave.

You stared a Mandalorian straight in the eyes–well, visor–and didn’t even flinch. You didn’t even break eye contact, unlike everyone else. People would turn to whoever they’re with to avoid his gaze. They spoke like he wasn’t a meter or two away–and like he couldn’t amplify their voices with his helmet.

His tall, broad stance usually set everyone on edge. The heavy weight of beskar armor, a reminder of his skillset, didn’t aid in calming the nerves of anyone either. He was typically soft spoken around others, as he noticed people’s reactions when he spoke–eyes wide, speech stuttering, shaking hands–scared. 

Everyone was afraid of him.

Except you.

When you first boarded the Razor Crest, Mando was extremely careful in making sure you were comfortable. The majority of his days not hunting were spent in the cockpit or in his bunk. Whenever you crossed paths in the hull you offered him a small smile and quickly looked away. Did your bravery fade away?

He came back from a hunt one day, quarry in tow, and he was relieved to hear, “How was your day?” Fall from your lips once the bounty was in carbonite.

Still cautious–mindful of how the modulator made his voice sound–he kept his answers short and to the point.

“Fine.”

“Busy.”

“Awful.”

Hearing the four words you said after each return from a hunt, and being able to give you a response without you slinking away, made the hunts worth it.

One night always stood out in his mind. It was just like any other return from one of his hunts. Mando dragged the quarry up the Crest’s ramp by a cord tied around their ankles. He lifted the man to stand up, doing so effortlessly with a few grunts to spare. 

Your living space was in the hull, so he always tried to make the ends of his hunts fast. You didn’t have any choice but to watch. Mando didn’t want to make you watch for too long. Maker, he didn’t want you to watch at all.

His fist slammed the button to begin the freezing process. Breathing heavily, he stood and watched the bounty as they froze into the carbonite cell. A blanket of silence covered the hull once the hissing of the freezing mechanisms came to a stop.

“How was your day?”

There it is. His favorite part after the hunt. Knowing you were there, safe within the hull, and that you wanted to be friendly with him–even after witnessing him freeze a person he tracked down for several hours.

“Nothing you want to hear about,” he replied, his voice tinged with tiredness. The helmet’s modulator most likely didn’t register the sleep in his voice. Truly, he didn’t think that you would want to hear about it. The Mandalorian was afraid that hearing about his hunts would put you on edge. You already extended a branch of friendliness to him twice a day. He didn’t want to give that up by talking about the bounties he tracks down.

“Try me.”

Those words.

Those words have only ever been spoken to him by enemies. It always caused annoyance to wash over him, head to toe. He’s a Mandalorian. Confident of his skills in combat. No matter the odds, Mando knew he would like them.

But when those words tumbled from your lips, it was different. When his enemies weren’t scared of him, it was annoying. When you weren’t scared of him, adoration filled his body. And not adoration in a patronizing way, but adoration as a form of respect. 

It made him want you that much more.

Snapping out of his thoughts, Mando realized the crotch of his pants were tight. Nonchalantly, he clasped his hands together and rested them below his belt.

“Quarry tried to escape and they ran. Would have been back four hours ago,” the modulator gritted out. Again, he was conscious of how the modulator warped his voice. “Not too fun,” he added in an attempt to make the conversation more casual.

You were silent. He whispered a curse to himself under his helmet, one that he was certain wouldn’t be picked up by his modulator. Was his answer too much? Mando quickly became nervous and started to shift his weight from one foot to the other. The silence you left in the air made him a bit anxious.

The T shape of his visor peered over to you. You stood still in shock, reminiscent of the people that saw him in public. Before his thoughts could spiral too much, you replied, “Oh, I’m sorry.”

Dank farrik. He didn’t want you to feel like you had to comfort him. “You don’t have to be sorry,” his chest brushed against your shoulder as he swiftly hopped onto the first rung of the ladder up to the cockpit. “It’s my job.”

“That doesn’t mean it sucks any less,” you said. He smiled underneath his helmet at your consideration. Your eyes widened and your mouth opened and closed as you realized what you said, “sorry, I probably shouldn’t have said that your job sucks.”

You weren’t wrong. Making his way through tough terrain, relying on a blinking red light on a piece of metal to guide him. Finding them was a task in itself, but dragging them back to the Crest was the other half of his job that sucked. Mando looked over his shoulder at you and replied matter-of-factly, “My job does suck.”

A giggle bubbled out from your chest. Every once in a while you would be reading a funny article on your Holopad and your laughs would echo through the hull of the Crest, making their way up into the cockpit. He needed more of them. His silver helmet shook slightly from side to side and he turned back to climb the ladder. But not before he also let out a small chuckle.

If you were comfortable enough to stand up to him, and laugh at his awful attempts at jokes–after he just hauled a bounty onto the ship–Mando realized he was safe.

Not only were you safe with him. He felt safe with you, in more ways than one.

Kriff it. You extended a friendly attitude towards him–a faceless warrior covered in impenetrable armor–then he could extend a friendly attitude towards you as well.

You asked him about this day, both in the mornings and the evenings. He learned about what you like and didn’t like. One item stood out to him. Caf. He always entered into a cloud of caf scent when he sauntered into the hull in the mornings. Mando was usually up before you, so he figured he would start making you a cup every morning. Confident enough in knowing which kinds of caf you preferred, he would stock up on caf every supply run.

The Mandalorian got closer to you, both physically and emotionally. Sometimes he would catch his hands landing on your waist or your lower back when he passed you on the ship. You’d shoot him a small smile in response. The distance he kept from you only decreased. He wanted to see your smile more and more. 

One thing he didn’t see coming was your interest in Mando’a. He would mumble to himself in the ship while completing various tasks.

“What’s that word mean?” You’d occasionally ask. The Mandalorian would explain their meanings, sometimes struggling to translate the word to Basic.

He must have taught you at least two dozen words in Mando’a by now. Each time you asked you would give him your full attention. 

At night, if he amplified the sound with his helmet enough, he could hear you practicing the words and recalling their meanings. It motivated him to share more words with you.

–

All of these experiences have led to this day. He’s been planning it for a month or two now. 

He wants to ask you on a date. Nerves bubbled up from his stomach and throughout his body. They suddenly came to a halt. 

Not now. First, he needs to collect information on a quarry.

Lost in his thoughts, he looked up and the market filled his vision with you in his peripheral. It wasn’t too busy, part of the reason why he was comfortable enough for you to shop on your own. He clarified the meet up point to you and watched as you took off. You had a bounce in your step, probably due to your excitement at shopping alone. 

Once he meandered further into the market he began to collect information. This market was the bounty’s last location. Mando’s guess was that he either simply wanted to be in a small city, gambled their life savings away, or they paid for visit after visit with the workers at the brothel until they ran out of credits.

Only one way to find out. The gambling and brothels didn’t start up until later in the afternoon. To kill the time, and to possibly find the quarry, Mando wandered throughout the different sections of the market. 

He asked a few vendors about the bounty. Mando described the man to many market sellers and only got a slight lead from one woman donned in patterned fabrics. 

“I think he went that way,” the woman gestured with one of her hands towards an intersection, “Take the left path. I don’t know anything else beyond that.”

Mando dropped a few credits into her hand and gave her a polite nod, “Thank you.” He continued on and curved his gait to take the left path. From the signs and general merchandise displayed on each stall, he knew he was entering the clothing section of the market.

The helmet covering his head swiveled from left to right and right to left. No one matched the description of his quarry. Repeating his previous process, he made his way down the stall-lined alley and asked a couple different vendors.

Once the last vendor finished talking, and provided him with another lead, he dug his hand into his pocket and slid the credits on the stall’s counter towards them. Turning his back towards the vendor, his feet carried him two steps back into the market.

Then he saw you.

You stood hunched over a table of colorful bracelets. Tapping his fingers to the temple of his helmet, Mando zoomed in and the helmet displayed your face to him, deep in thought. Looking down, you were hovering your hands over a grid of various green bracelets. 

You stopped on one. Mostly brown, almost too much to be in the green section, Mando thought. Nonetheless, the green and silver streaks peeked in and out of the thick threads of brown that made up the bracelet. Your fingers sorted through the sizes of the bracelet and selected one that looked close to your size. 

Clutching it in one hand, the other hand searched for another of the same bracelet. It was larger than the previous size. You set the smaller bracelet down and tested the strings. The bracelet was adjustable, and you smiled at the discovery.

You transferred the bracelets onto the table of the stall and used one hand to dig into your pockets. Palm held out flat, Mando guessed that about twenty credits sat in your palm. He followed your gaze to the sign listing the prices.

PRICES

1 bracelet = 15 credits

2 = 30 credits

3 = 45 credits

4 = 60 credits

Shoulders falling, you dropped the credits back into your pocket and returned the bracelets to their original spot in the grid of green. Ground crunched beneath your shoes as you turned and continued wandering through the market.

Mando noted it was the third stall to the left of the bright green stall on the left side of the alley.

Not wanting you to realize he saw you, the Mandalorian walked in the opposite direction you took. After twenty minutes he noticed that the stalls became much more strange than the stalls in the clothing section of the market. Peering at the different products for sale, he saw a potions shop offering “super strength elixir” and a vendor selling various pet-like creatures. A few more vendors passed his peripheral vision as he continued his strides. They came to a stop once a building larger than the surrounding stalls came into view.

His helmet tilted upwards to read the sign displayed front and center on the large building: BROTHEL.

Tapping the side of his helmet, the time on the helmet’s display indicated that the brothel and gambling scenes had just begun. Mando tapped the temple of his helmet once again and the warm bodies within the building lit up, like he had x-ray vision. He counted a dozen in total. One body stood in the same spot inside near an entryway–the bouncer, Mando thought.

The bouncer was the individual that allowed access in and out of the building. If their memory was decent, they would be like a living guest book. Mando figured he could bribe them to reveal information, which was his usual plan with most of the beings he spoke with.

He sauntered over to the side of the building the bouncer was standing at. A singular light flickered over the side door, the sun was still out, so Mando was confused why it was on. The beskar helmet observed the side door.

Metal. Double deadbolts. Keypad on the left side. Small slit at eye level–neck level for the Mandalorian.

As soon as he crouched down to look near the slit, it slid open and revealed a thick pair of black eyebrows. Black eyes bore into the brow of Mando’s helmet, as the bouncer couldn’t seem to find his eyes. 

“Do you have an appointment?” The bouncer asked. The voice behind the door was gruff, as if the words had to crawl from the depths of his throat. 

“No,” Mando responded.

Black eyes blinked and then disappeared when the bouncer closed the metal slit. 

Mando was taken aback and furrowed his brow. His fist pounded on the door. He just wanted this hunt to be over with. He wanted to get back to you.

The slit in the door revealed two black eyes once more.

“I have credits and will pay you if you give me information on a client your establishment may have served.” Mando’s modulator gritted out loudly. Straight and to the point. All business. 

Eyes disappeared again, but were then accompanied with the sounds of the deadbolts unlocking. The metal door swung open to reveal a man dressed in all black with a silver name tag. Black hair matched the rest of his ensemble. 

Still holding the door, the bouncer asked, “What’s the bounty look like?”

An eyebrow raised inside Mando’s helmet, but he figured the bouncer knew the drill by now. Even other bounty hunters knew that brothels were what many bounties visited. A gloved hand unbuttoned a pocket on his belt and retrieved a bounty puck. Clicking the side of it, the puck displayed the quarry. 

The man stepped out of the doorway and onto the pavement, pulling the door closed behind him. His black eyes slightly squinted when his gaze trailed up and down the hologram.

“Ah yeah, I’ve seen this guy. He has a type, always goes for the blondes.” 

“Does he have any upcoming appointments?” Mando questioned.

The bouncer sighed in thought and pulled a small notepad from his pocket. Mando mirrored the man’s motion and produced a pen and notepad from his pocket. 

“The guy has an appointment in two days. He just asked to see a blonde. Figures.” The man shrugged and opened his notepad. Mando noticed it was a planner, and the bouncer flipped to the pages for the appointments two days from today.

“Which workers would take him as a client?” Mando’s modulator churned the words. His pen clicked as he readied himself to write.

The man donned in black made a fist with one hand and raised a finger with each name, “Ari. Taima. And Nomi. They would be in rooms one, five, or seven.”

Wow, Mando thought, this guy really knew the drill. He quickly finished up writing down the names and room numbers of each worker. The pen scratched feverishly against the cream colored paper, leaving behind black strokes to form letters and numbers. Notepad folding closed and the pen clicking, signifying the end of his notes, Mando returned the pen and paper to their place in his pocket. His opposing hand reached into a different pocket and produced a sizable amount of credits. Feeling generous, thankful that this hunt was going to be quick, he compensated the bouncer handsomely.

First task done. Second task on the horizon.

Creaking produced from the hinges of the metal door as the bouncer disappeared behind it once more. Flickering light gleamed off the beskar armor that protected the Mandalorian in combat. Although he wasn’t going into combat, because he wouldn’t be nervous if he was. 

Mando trained most of his life with the greatest warriors in the galaxy. Combat flowed through his blood easily. It was a part of him. 

But he was never trained on how to ask people out on dates.

On top of that, he was never trained on how to ask you out on a date.

He didn’t want to misread the situation. You could just be friendly. Who would want to date a man and not know what he looks like? Who would want to constantly live on a ship, without a permanent home? 

Being Mando, he prepared for the worst. If you said no, he figured that you would be uncomfortable living with the man who asked you out on a date. Knowing that he’s attracted to you. He would fly wherever you wanted and give you some credits to get started. Kriff, he’d send credits for however long it takes for you to get on your feet. Then he’d leave you alone. 

Admittedly, the Mandalorian would probably keep an eye on you to make sure you were safe. You just wouldn’t know he’s there.

But if you said yes.

Mando’s chest bloomed with anticipation. Firework-like tingles trailed up and down his limbs at the thought. He bit his lip within the confines of his helmet when he realized his pants had gotten tighter. Thankfully he was a Mandalorian, because heat washed over his face, half due to arousal and the other half in embarrassment.

The brown eyes underneath the helmet widened. If he wanted to do more with you and you agreed, he didn’t have protection.

Turning on his heel, cape whipping behind him, he made a quick pace back to the brothel.

Once he arrived at the gray building, the light at the side of the building having more of a purpose, Mando glided towards the same door as before. Bringing a fist up to the metal, he knocked three times.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Clink. Shhhkt.

“Do you sell condoms?” the modulator quickly blurted.

All business.

—

He arrived at the meet up point before you. Leaning against a nearby tree, Mando checked the time constantly, as if he was devoted to the action more than his Creed. If you were late, he always went looking. 

Thankfully, you trudged up to the food stall on time with a hefty bag full of purchases. Fine, brown gravel grinded against the soles of Mando’s shoes as he made his way over to you. His gloved hand slipped the bag from your grasp and the pair of you began walking back to the Crest.

Both of you carried on with your normal post-supply run routines. You and Mando, but this time just Mando, piled the purchases from the market onto the hull’s floor. From there, the items could be sorted through and put in their respective places around the Crest.

As Mando finished unloading the large bag of purchases, he quickly dug around for the receipts. He knew how much you liked to review the shopping haul each time a supply run was completed. Mando enjoyed seeing the satisfaction wash over your face after you read over the receipts.

But this time was different. You froze once you got to the last receipt.

Mando’s helmet tilted in confusion. He took a few steps closer towards you, “What’s wrong? Did we forget something?”

You remained still while your eyes darted over the lines on the receipt. With your back turned to him, Mando found the opportunity to zoom in on the ink printed on the flimsy paper.

ITEMS PURCHASED (1)

CONDOM - 12 PACK

Oh. Fuck. FUCK.

He hasn’t even asked you on a date yet and now you probably already think he’s a perv. Nerves took over his body as you continued to stand still.

Your hand quickly crushed the receipts and threw them in the trash, “Nope! The last receipt didn’t look familiar but,” you trailed off slightly but recovered, “I remembered what I bought from the place.” A nervous laugh–obviously fake, Mando knew what your real one sounded like–escaped from your lips.

He fucked it up. You knew he was interested in you like that. And you didn’t feel the same. He hasn’t even asked you on the date yet. It’s all screwed up now.

But he also felt like he didn’t have enough evidence. What if you did like him but the idea of…needing to use the condoms…made you nervous.

Mando had to at least try. The least he had to do was ask you.

He cleared his throat and grabbed the bag off of the floor. You stood away from him, biting the inside of your cheek, nervously watching his movements. 

“I’m going to go to the night market,” he informed you, “I have some business with a bounty I need to take care of.” 

The bounty wouldn’t be captured until two days from now. In reality, he was really going to go and purchase snacks, takeout, and a pair of those bracelets you admired. It would have been suspicious if he met you back at the meet up point with bags full of snacks. The beskar man figured it would be best to hold off on buying them until later, and tell you he was getting a bounty, so you wouldn’t catch on.

He should’ve waited for this second trip to buy the condoms, he thought.

–

Mando left to, “Go to the night market,” he said. You saw the condom listed on the market receipts, you knew where he went tonight. What he’s going to do. 

The brothels.

Yeah, sure, he’s paying a worker to give him a service. No feelings attached. But you didn’t want him to be with anyone else. Was Mando necessarily yours? No. Have you ever had sex with him? Also no.

That didn’t stop you from getting jealous.

And it wasn’t just jealousy. It was fear. What if he fell in love with one of them? Or what if he was going on dates? He could have a romantic interest you don’t even know about. Next thing you know, they’re going steady and you’re kicked off the ship. Or worse, you have to watch him love someone that isn’t you.

No more silence with him in the cockpit, watching as the hyperspace lights soar past the windshield. Feet tapping down the ladder as you both began your nighttime routines. He’d wait in the hull near the door of the fresher in just his helmet, undershirt, sleep pants, and socks. As he lifted off the wall from his leaning stance he’d ask you, “Are you done?” Holding his own hands in front of him, trying to seem relaxed, as if he was trying to look less intimidating. “Yeah,” you’d quickly respond, leaving the fresher and brushing past him. Sometimes his hand found your waist as he passed, or the small of your back. “Thank you,” he’d grunt gently as he closed the fresher door. 

No more of Mando letting out a small, “Good night,” before lingering on your closing eyes and watching as your lips smiled, forming your response, “Good night.” 

Falling asleep, you knew you’d wake up to him. He would be up before you on most days, leaving you a fresh cup of caf and your favorite ration pack (when he had them). The short chatter between you two, going over the logistics of the next hunt, telling stories from your past, or just thinking out loud to each other. Gone.

You would be banished from home.

The fear struck your chest. Heat searing through your ribcage and meeting your spine, the visions repeated over and over in your head. Tears fell like waterfalls from your eyes. Most streams connected underneath your chin and trailed down your neck. Your back met the hull’s wall as you sank down onto the floor. Deep breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Your head was heavy and numb.

Just breathe. You knew you weren’t going to die. Go through some heartbreak? Maybe, but you knew you’d be alive. It helped. Your breath slowed and the fear dissipated into the air around you. That didn’t stop the flow of tears down your cheeks as your eyes were fixed on the closed ramp.

–

Mando’s footsteps set a steady pace back to the market.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

He displayed a map of the marketplace as an overlay on the display of his helmet. Mando usually reserved this practice for combat to aid in determining exit strategies and the best plan of attack.

But now he was using it to calculate the most efficient route throughout the marketplace in order to see you again sooner. 

Closing the overlay from the helmet’s display, he was met with the sight of the market. Long strings of lights decorated the different stalls. Many vendors took advantage of the dark and used different, bright combinations to reel in customers. Some lights were multicolored. Some flashing. Some huge and some small. He thought of the “ooh”s, and, “ahh”s that you would let out at the brilliant display.

The Mandalorian started in the food section of the market. Carefully examining which vendors carried your favorite snacks, he made purchase after purchase in quick succession. His helmet remained on a swivel, scanning the stalls from right to left and left to right. 

A stall offering your favorite kind of takeout came into view.

Once Mando arrived at the stall he ordered two takeout meals. The vendor looked startled and confused as he ordered. They shakily accepted the credits for the two meals. Gazes drifted away from Mando and quickly returned as he stood waiting for the meals to be prepared. A bell rang and he retrieved two warm containers, placing them in his bag alongside the snacks.

One last stop. The bracelets.

Marching through the food district, he came upon an intersection at which the left path led him to the clothing district. Yet again, his helmet pivoted on his neck from one side to another. 

The third stall to the left of the bright green stall on the left side of the alley.

Mando continued his steady pace until the bright green stall came into view. The brightness of the exterior paint was exaggerated by the warm light emitted by lanterns, which decorated the outside of the shop. He didn’t notice before but the store sold children’s clothes. Onesies. Small shoes. Tiny hats.

A small tunic. Small enough for a human child younger than one year old. The tunic reminded him of Grogu’s. Mando’s bare hands brushed against the material countless times as he cradled The Child in his arms.

The last time he spoke about Grogu was with you. You listened and offered support. He’s never had anyone do that for him.

His visor turned to his left. The soft fairy lights of the stall reflected off of the beskar helmet on his head. As if the beskar reflected a dark sky decorated with bright stars. Various fabrics hung from the side of the vendor’s stall to cover the old wooden planks. Little accessories were placed throughout the shop on different tables and displays. 

Mando wasn’t focused on those items, he was focused on the long table of bracelets organized by color. His feet carried him to the green section. The helmet turned downwards to allow him to observe the selection. 

Shit.

There were so many bracelets similar to the pair you held, just all in different combinations of green, silver, and brown. Was it the bracelet with the large green cord and the small silver and brown threads? Or the one with the large silver cord and green and brown threads? Or thick brown cord with streaks of green and silver? His hands hovered over the options, doing his best to recall the details from earlier in the day.

“It’s this one,” a woman’s voice said.

A bit startled, the Mandalorian looked up and found a woman standing on the other side of the table. She wore long robes with intricate patterns. Jewelry decorated every limb and part of her body, like jewels were dripping down from her skin from a storm of gemstones. Hair cascaded around her shoulders and down her back. Her smile was kind and her gaze met Mando at his eyebrow.

A good try, he thought.

“I’m sorry?” He replies. She couldn’t possibly know which bracelet he was trying to find.

“You were watching them earlier. From across the street,” she let out faint exhales as she let out a short laugh, “Maybe you should hide a little better next time.” 

She reached out and picked two bracelets out of the display grid. “I remember the sizes too,” she said, “The person you watched held onto them for so long, they seemed pretty attached to them. I kept track of which bracelets they were just in case.” The robed woman shot him a friendly wink.

“In case of what?” Mando questioned. He was still in shock that the woman noticed him staring at you from across the street. 

The woman glanced up at him like that was a dumb question, “In case you came back to get them, Mandalorian. This isn’t my first day on the job.”

It saved him the time and stress of trying to remember which one it was, so he shrugged and watched the woman’s jewelry dangle as she typed onto the register. 

Beep. Beep. Beep beep. Ching.

“Okay sir, twenty credits please!” The woman extended her hand out and waited for Mando to place credits into her palm. She was met with the tilting of the black T shape on Mando’s beskar helmet. 

“I thought the price was thirty,” he stated as he began to reach into his pockets to retrieve his credits.

The woman let out another small laugh, “Oh, I suppose I should have made the sign larger,” her decorated fingers pointed to a small sign above the one that displays the bracelet prices.

$10 OFF WHEN YOU BUY TWO OR MORE

Mando’s shoulders dip in realization that you could’ve bought the bracelets in the first place. A sigh escapes his modulator and he hands the credits over to the intricately robed vendor. The credits clink into her palm, and then into the register.

He waits silently for her to package them up in a small bag. 

“They like you, you know,” the woman mentions, “No one like them would be deciding on which bracelets to buy for that long if they didn’t.” She paused as she was about to place the larger of the two into the small bag, “And look at the size of this one! It’s definitely for you.” 

The Mandalorian nods, “I appreciate that,” he pauses before turning away, “let’s hope they do.”

–

Mando sets a faster pace back to the Crest than the one he took from the Crest to the market. He’s impatient, he can’t wait to walk up the ramp and see your body curled up, comfortable and safe, while you sleep soundly in your bed–if you can even call it that, he thought. You usually went to bed early when he went on hunts, otherwise you would be awake talking to him.

Slipping the bag from his shoulder, an ungloved hand rummaged through the contents searching for a small bag. His fingers found the familiar texture and he pulled it out from between the snacks and the takeout. 

Mando slung the bag back over his shoulder, pulled the larger of the two bracelets out of the small bag, and slipped his hand through the ring of brown, silver, and green. Grabbing one of the ends with his fingers and pinning it to his palm, the other hand tightened the bracelet to a comfortable size around his wrist.

Once the small bag was returned to its place inside of the larger one, Mando peered around him to get a good look of his surroundings. 

The sun was about to set, leaving only a sliver of light available to provide dim light to the landscape. Rocks littered the ground. Shadows from each one making them appear larger in the light of the impending dusk. He reached up and tapped a finger to the temple of his helmet. No living thing was around him.

He paused and set the bag on the ground. Doing one last scan of the area, one of his hands gripped the chin of his helmet and lifted the beskar from his head. The hand held the helmet at his side while he marveled at his wrist.

He caught a good patch of remaining light and watched as the green and silver threads gleamed against the thick brown ones. The bracelet was beautiful. Not only because of the design, but because you picked it out. And it was for him.

Becoming paranoid, the Mandalorian quickly slipped his helmet back onto his head. He waited for the seal of the helmet to engage before continuing back towards the Crest. This time, at an even faster pace.

–

You sat there until you heard heavy footsteps approaching from outside, the hydraulics of the ramp coming to life. Thinking fast, you stood up and made your way towards the fresher to start your nighttime routine.

“Why are you still awake?” Mando’s voice was confused. He stood in front at the top of the ramp with his helmet tilted, hands resting on his hips, but his shoulders were slumped, a bag slung around one. He looked…worried.

Mando was right. Usually when he went on hunts you went to bed early. Nowadays the only thing that kept you awake was him. Talking with him was how you spent most evenings on the Crest, your voices echoed and bounced back to each other in the hull.

He’s used to seeing you curled up on the sleeping pad covered in blankets. Soft breaths came from your body and radiated throughout the Crest. Just like a minute ago, his footsteps would come up the ramp with his bounty in tow. Soft grunts could be heard kitty-corner from your spot in the hull. A hiss of mechanisms as they froze the bounty in carbonite. Then a bit of silence. 

The absence of the carbonite freezing stood out in your mind. No bounty, even when he said he was going to go and find one. Your eyes teared up slightly again as the realization truly set in. Mando really did go to the brothel.

You just wanted this night to be like any other night he came back to the Crest with a bounty.

After the bounty was frozen, heavy footsteps made their way across the floor of the hull. But they always stopped a few paces away from your bed, halting for a moment. Mando would complete his nightly routine. Setting the Crest’s coordinates for the next planet and showering in the fresher if he needed to–he usually did.

No matter what the events of his nightly routine were, it always ended with him standing in the doorway of his bunk–the sound of his footsteps always stopped partially inside.

“Good night, cyar'ika.”

You didn’t know what the Mando’a meant, since Mando never used that word around you, but you knew that the, “good night,” was all you needed to finally fall asleep.

You always waited up for him, only until reasonable hours of the night, of course, but he didn’t know it.

The sound of his footsteps in the present snapped you out of your hazy state. Crying really does a number on your brain.

“Just…couldn’t fall asleep,” you offered him a small smile as you pulled some products out of the tiny fresher cabinet. You wet your face and applied a small amount onto your fingertips, tapping them together for both hands to have the product. As you lifted your face and your hands to the mirror to begin washing your face, you were met with swollen lips, puffy eyes, and slight tear trails dried onto your face, despite the water you just splashed onto it. You froze.

There goes any of your chances to get away with how you spent your night. Staying up late staring at the Crest’s ramp. Waiting for Mando to come home. At least what you thought was home.

“What’s wrong?” Mando’s voice got clearer as he approached the fresher door. His strides long, footsteps clunking, as he removed his leather gloves and tucked the pair into his utility belt.

You went to turn away from him but he got there faster than you could. His ungloved hand rested on your shoulder, grip slow yet firm as he turned you to face him. He rubbed tiny circles onto your skin with his thumb once his eyes beneath the helmet noticed yours.

Your reflection on the silver beskar of his helmet stared back at you. Could you even get away with a lie at this point? What else would have made you cry? It’s not exactly like you could have said the truth either.

Oh yeah, I was sitting here having a panic attack as you participated in a perfectly normal service that is offered on this planet. Then I spiraled and thought about how you might not even want me to be here, that you’ll find another partner to be on this ship with you, and toss me away like none of this meant anything to you.

Mando’s hand waved in front of your face and it brought you back into the present moment. “Did someone come onto the ship while I was gone?” His voice gritted out from the helmet’s modulator. 

“Maker, no,” you huffed and tried to look less suspicious, hoping he’ll just drop the topic.

“Then what is it?” He murmured, his modulator barely picking up his syllables. His wide shoulders took up most of the fresher’s door frame. The grip on your shoulder tightened slightly.

“It’s…I don’t think you’ll want to hear it.” You shrugged and repressed the heat of anxiety creeping down the back of your head. Turning to wash and dry your hands, you let out a sigh and started to walk towards the main open space of the hull. Your shoulder gently bumped him as you slid past his large frame in the doorway. 

Suddenly your hips were being snapped backwards and dragged back towards the fresher. His damn finger was in your belt loop again. 

He pulled you close to him, feeling the heat from his knuckle dig into your hip and spread throughout the rest of your body. His helmet leaned down to look you in the eye and tilted once again.

“Try me,” he paused. He brought his hand up to grip onto the valley where your neck meets your shoulder, slowly enough so you could back away if you so desired. His large palm and thick fingers were calloused and warm. The grip he had on you was still gentle, slightly squeezing. “You know you can tell me, right?”

You let a deep inhale permeate through your lungs. The words flowed through your individual cells. Thoughts of lying escaped your body with each breath. The debate inside your head would end. Whether he had those feelings for you or not.

“I got upset because you went to the brothel.” You told him. Lips trembling and eyes squinted open in an attempt to meet his gaze.

“The brothel?” He held both of your shoulders and brought his visor closer to your face. Thumbs rubbed your shoulders yet again. He sighed as your name left his lips and traveled through his helmet, “I didn’t go to a brothel tonight.” A titled T-shaped gaze met yours. You knew he was looking you in the eyes, and yours into his.

Brows furrowed, you sniffled slightly, “I-, I saw that condoms were on the market receipts.” The thumbs on your shoulders stopped, his chest didn’t rise and fall. He froze. You made Mando freeze. 

“Look I know I’m just being dramatic and paying for that kind of thing is completely normal. I just,” you trailed off and thought of a quick replacement for your worry, “I was worried you would get hurt there.”

Mando’s shoulders fell and his helmet cocked to the side. “What?” He questioned. “How would I get hurt? None of the workers there had weapons.”

“How would you know that if you didn’t go?” You whispered to him. Your gaze left his and it dropped to the shape in the center of his chestplate. The crystal shape rose up and down slowly.

“I got information on a bounty there earlier,” he sounded like he was talking to a hurt animal. Gentle. Slow. Calm. “What's the actual reason you’re upset?” 

Kriff it.

“I had a panic attack because I thought you went to the brothel. Maybe you would like the worker there more than you like me, I spiraled and thought about how you might not even want me to be here, that you’ll find another partner to be on this ship with you,” your chest heaved and as you listed off your previous thoughts of worry. Your hands shook as they landed on top of Mando’s, and you took a deep breath, eyes meeting his gaze like before, “and toss me away like none of this meant anything to you.”

Mando is quick. He flipped his hands to grab one of yours and tugged you into the hull. Kneeling, he opened a cloth bag, one from the market, and dug into it to search for something. 

He actually went to the night market. You thought, now you look so clingy. So needy. He was just going to show you what he got to prove he went.

He turned and held his hand out. Sitting on top of the golden skin on his palm was a bracelet.

The bracelet from the market.

“I saw you looking at these, you looked for a long time and then put them down,” He stood up and set his gait to slow steps as he made his way over to you.

You laughed nervously, accompanied by a small sniffle, “Sorry yeah, I know I just should have been getting the stuff we needed. You didn’t have to go back and get it for-.” Mando raised a finger to halt your speech and continued what he was saying previously, “you put them down. You had two bracelets.”

“They had lots of them that I liked…I had two that were a tie and I just decided to get neither-.” Mando cut you off again.

“You were holding one bracelet consistently and then picked another in a bigger size,” you froze at his words. Dank farrik. Now he was going to think you’re super clingy. 

“I wasn't completely sure who you wanted to wear the bracelet, but I took a guess.” He pulled his long sleeve past his elbow and revealed his bare forearm. Strong. Capable. Solid. And a matching bracelet was donned on his wrist.

Your cheeks radiated with heat as he took your wrist and put your bracelet on you. His warm fingertips brushed the soft skin of your wrist, sending chills throughout your body at the meticulous skin-on-skin contact. 

Once the bracelet was secure around your wrist, Mando dipped his head and looked down at the floor. One of his hands gripped the underside of his helmet, and the other held onto your wrist. Your breath caught in your throat at the gesture. He quickly lifted his helmet to release his mouth, and he pressed three kisses on your wrist where the bracelet was. Mando’s lips were soft and timid, his hand caressing the skin on yours. Silver from his beskar helmet blocked your view, but Mando sealed his helmet and brought his eyes underneath the visor to look into yours.

“This means everything to me.”

Supply Run - Exchange (part three)

#pedro pascal #mando #the mandalorian #mando fic #din djarin #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin fluff #din djarin smut #din djarin fanfic #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian fanfic #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando x reader #mando x you #supply run #thepascalofus #thepascalofus fic #mando fluff #mando smut #the mandalorian fanfiction

[leaentries]

Can we talk about john marino please I feel like this man is secretly a romantic & loves to do cute little gestures for you & love on you but also can switch up & completely man handle you at any moment with his giant hands

YES??? OF COURSE WE CAN ALWAYS TALK ABOUT MARINO

he’s is the sweetest sweetie that ever sweeted

- he’s is an absolute sucker for you, like heart eye emoji the second you walk into any room. def gets teased by the younger players for being whipped.

- loves to leave you little gifts and treats when he knows he’ll be away for a long roadie. maybe you just got home from saying goodbye to him and there’s one of his hoodies and a week supply of your favorite snacks waiting for you back at your apartment

- along with being gone on trips, he always has to be talking to you and getting updates throughout the day from you. he wants to know every bit of your day, no matter how small it may seem to you. he just cares about you so much and wants to make sure you’re doing okay without him there

- absolutely melts when you call him “johnny” i mean a literal puddle at your feet

- something else he adores is when you get clingy-sleepy. he will take any chance he can to have you all cuddly and tired against him. big puppy eyes make a show for you here

- yet, he also loves to litter you with marks. not overly showy, but in places where only the two of you can see. just thinking about the purple bruises on your breasts are enough to have his cock hard and throbbing.

- loses his fucking mind when he sees you fall apart on his fingers.

❥.

“fuck, johnny!” you whined.

the stimulation his fingers provided with every stroke against your velvet walls was overwhelming. having already came twice, your body convulsed and shook with the slightest curve of john’s digits.

as he once again began to poke and prod at that special spongey spot inside, you desperately tried to push his hand away.

“please, johnny,” you panted, “ ‘s too much”

john only managed to smile devilishly at you.

“you can’t be done already, doll. you haven’t even had my cock yet.”

#john marino #john marino blurb #john marino x reader #john marino headcanons #njd #new jersey devils #leawrites💋

[shinsouscatpisssmell]

Rehab

Paring:toxic!Eren x black!reader

Warnings: toxic relationships, miscarriages, usage of the n-word like once ,mmm that’s about it

An// this is a reupload! 🫡 I have to find links for the collab again 😭

Glass littered over the ground along with lamps and furniture like a robber ran amuck through the tiny apartment. Only the culprit still there cradling her belly while in the fetal position. Eyes sore and swollen nearly shut from tears.

Soft but powerful knocks litter on the door even though it was left wide open, "y/n? Sweetheart, are u okay? I heard some yelling and loud noises earlier and just wanted to check on ya' baby." the feeble voice of the granny living next door calls out. You could hear her carefully walk through the dirtied room and let out a worried gasp upon seeing your figure, "dear god child. Get up,get up! That's dangerous to be lying on the ground when it's like this. You Could cut yourself." putting a hand on your back and slowly making you sit up right before you let out a voice of crying pain and falling again onto the ground.

The older woman looks in worried at your hunched form before feeling a substance on her hand," y/n hats wrong,honey? Do you have something on you?" she shuffles over to the light switch flipping it on seeing red on her hand making her jump back as it painted her skin before letting put a shrill scream as you're bloodied. Not wasting a second she helps you up making you put most of your weight onto her.

"I got you,hon. I'm old but I be hitting the gym 5 times a week so relax." she walks you all the way down to the car. Assisting you in the passenger side and buckling before rushing to start the car, " do you need me to call your boyfriend? Uh what's his name? Ethan? Evan?" she snaps her fingers," even, right?" 

You shake your head with the little focus you had left and your raspy voice speaks the first words spoken from you," no." she huffs and gives a quick nod of understanding before pulling out of the lot. The drive is silent only the radio tuning in and out of songs. Your ears catch the smooth voice of Rihanna start to play. Putting your head to glass and let her words speak to you allowing memories to flow through of the events that have and still are occurring.

"When we first met, I never felt something so strong."

Carry all those books in a crowded area.you were just asking to be knocked down by the ongoing human traffic. Arm's aching from the weight of 3 textbooks and your mind loading up with foul language towards the teachers and at your back for being so tiny.

Sucking your teeth in annoyance and the wall of people in your away completely ignoring your loud ,"excuse me"s. Arms almost giving up you made the decision to push your way through the crowd only to get pushed forward. Books getting scattered on the floor and as you cling to the back of a ransom's shirt as to not meet he same fate. 

"Hey ,man. The fuck you think you're doing?" The man's voice was full of hostility and you can't blame him as you would be too had the situations been reverse.

Letting go of the stranger's clothes you quickly try to find some excuse, "I'm so sorry I didn't mean to do that. But it was my only life saver to not fall flat on my face." 

You hear the stranger let out a small 'tch' before turning around and ready to give you a piece of his mind but words fell short when his jade eyes met yours. Time seemed to have slowed around the two of you as you didn't say a word. Being the first to shake out of the trance you begin to collect the pricey books off the floor.

"Again I'm so sorry. I'm really not trying to be rude but people just wouldn't move and I somehow ended up getting pushed."

"Hey, it's all good! No need to worry. I know how crowded in here it can get," he picks up the last one of your books off the ground

"Eren! Hurry your ass up or you're getting left!" You see the man ,who you guess was the 'eren' in question , frown at the group of people calling out to him ," they can't wait 5 fucking minutes? God damn. He rolls his eyes before turning back to you," but uh I'm eren.sorry for me being brash back there."

You let out a small bit of laughter before accepting the book from his grasp, " I'm y/n, a junior."

"Same here. What's your maj-"

"Yeager! We don't have time for you to try and get your dick wet! Hurry the fuck up."

Your Brow raised at the man of the hour and his face turns red, "I swear I would never- No i mean..I would with you just not right now?" he coughs regaining his cool," what I mean is would you like to go hang out sometime? Coffee or at the movies?"

"Nice save, Casanova." You chuckle, "I would love to. Maybe one weekend since I'm going to be swamped out the ass with assignments during the week."

"How about this weekend? Coffee on me at Paradis around noon?"

"mmm i would have to check my schedule but let me get back to you." you take the book from his hold, " but I can tell you're friends are about to leave you." You let out a small cackle at him whiping his head around at his friends who are starting to leave the hall.

"Fuck," he turns to you, " see you around?" Given a quick reassurance to him before he rushes off pushing people out the way to get to his group.

"Cute." Smiling to yourself while walking the other direction not really expecting anything other than a few HIs and hellos in the hallways

"You were like my lover and my best friend. All wrapped up into one with a ribbon it"

Even though no numbers or contact information, eren made a way to find you again like he had said. It took about two weeks to get to the coffee he promised and it went off without a hitch. Almost getting kicked out because he made you laugh your iced coffee out your nose. It was one outing you thought would only happen once since Eren was a well known player but date that led to two and then to three and so forth until he asked you to be official on your sixth date.

He made your heart flutter when he took your hands in his and stared at you with those jade eyes of his.

"You're the only one for me,y/n. My true love." He said it with such sincerity leading you in and sealing your fate with his sweeten words.

"And all of a sudden,you went and left. I didn't know how to follow."

The fairytale relationship you were living in slowly became your nightmare with his jealousy and overthinking.

"I don't see why you even need to go help him study. All he's trying to do is get in your pants." Eren is laying upside down on your bed while watching you put on your last earring and putting your box braids into two pigtails, " and why are you even getting dressed up? You're trying to look good for him now?"

You suck your teeth at him before turning around, "eren,I'm getting tired of you accusing me of shit. You're starting to push my buttons. This is like the fifth time you tried to hint at something going on and I'm fucking tired," putting on the finishing touching you cap your lipgloss back, "with all these accusations maybe you're the one cheating on me."

You could see him get up and sit on your bed the air turning serious and tense, "and what's that supposed to mean? You think I'm cheating?"

You fold your arms and silence falls upon the both of you almost like two cowboys getting ready for showdown, "so what if I am,huh? You can accuse me but the moment I do it to you I'm the problem?" His phone vibrates and you both glance at it. You squint your eyes on the contact name making out of " frani", a girl that eren told you that he had cut off after you two started dating.

"It's not what you think, y/n-"

"So you are cheating on me. With the same bitch you told me who used to be your sex friend. What happened to you cut her off? 'I'll never need another woman, you're my one and only?' You're such a fucking hypocrite." Mocking his voice  watching him get angry at reciting his heartfelt words with such spite.

"Oh,I'm a hypocrite? You're the one getting all dressed up like a whore to go meet some guy who wants to get in your pants. I told you I cut her off and I did so don't come at me sideways."

"I could say the same to you! So you can talk to me like this but I can't when it comes to when you can't keep your dick in your pants?"

now I'm eachother faces and the argument getting heated.

"You know what? Fuck this. I don't gotta deal with this bullshit, he grabs his jacket from the floor where he had dropped it storming his way to the front, " you go enjoy your study session and I'll go have one of my own." He slammed your front door leaving you with tears of frustration as you push your face deep into a pillow and scream. The only thing bringing you out of it was the rumbling of the floor making you discover he dropped his phone and seeing the same name four times in a row made you curious on how much she had to say to him. You had known the passcode to his phone since you both had exchanged it two months back and after reading through the messages you wish you guys hadn't. Screenshotting and sending them to you for evidence.

Frani😈❤️

x/x/x

Bby~ are you really going to

leave me alone?

Eren

Leave me alone. I told you were done

I'm seeing y/n

Frani 😈❤️

That slut? I'm bet I'm so much better

I know how to please you bby

So why don't you come over

and have fun🥺

Eren

Hope u know my phone is going on silence cause a dumb bitch keeps txting me while I'm with my bby🤭

😍 go hump a couch cushion.😚

x/x/x

Frani😈❤️

This your girl?

*photo attachment*

It was a photo of you waiting outside the college gates.

Eren

And? She told me she was going to study .

🤨 you a stalker now?

Frani😈❤️

It doesn't look like studying to me

More like a date tbh 😗But that's just me 😋

*photo attachment*

Eren

Is that a dude?

Frani😈❤️

Mhmm😗

And I heard some pretty interesting things about these two😋

Eren

Like what?

Frani😈❤️

Nu uh you have to come here!

You know the address handsome 😘

Eren

...See you in 5

X/x/x

Frani😈❤️

I knew you missed me bby

We should do it again 🤭

Eren

I'm pretty sure y/n is having another study on Thursday

Same time?

Frani😈❤️

Ofc bby I'll wear the pretty panties u like

The picture shows you and a boy from your lab class walking to the Starbucks near campus. He was your partner since the beginning of the year so you both had made plans to go study together for the test the next week. You had texted eren earlier that you were going out and wouldn't meet him til late but he had cancel last minute.

You don't know when it started but tears dropped down to the screen making the light blurry before you had to close it. You wiped your eyes as anger takes over only seeing red.

Gathering all his stuff before throwing it out your apartment door.

"it's like a shock spun me around and my heart left. I feel so empty and hollow."

He banged on the door when he came back telling you to open it. You ignored him putting in your AirPods to drown him out before he begins spam text you.

Dirty ass dick bag 8=D

Baby... Are you really not opening the door?

All over a stupid argument ?

Don't I mean more to you?

You

Stop fuking texting me b4 I block u

Its eren I will push you off that ledge right now

So out of respect give me my space and go back to your whore.

Dirty ass dick bag 8=D

What whore?

You

*4 photo attachment*

U forgot already? Or did the find out a new std that gives u memory loss?

It's been 20 minutes since u sent those the text bubbles come and go.You hear a loud fuck outside the door before your phone started to ring. It went to voicemail at least 3 times before  you finally picked it up.

"Are you really not going to open the door?" His voice sounded defeated.

"Why'd you do it eren? Do you know how much I want to wring your neck right now?" Your confidence wavering at the sound of his voice, "was I not enough,huh? SAY SOMETHING!" You yell over the mic.

"You are enough,y/n. You're all I need, I promise baby." He reassured you making you more pissed off .

"Then what you can trust some whore over me? You don't trust me enough when I say I'm not cheating? Have I done it before? Flirted,kiss, or even lead someone on?"

"No,princess.it's not you I don't trust. It's the guys I don't trust. You're so pretty and nice willing to help anyone you can and I'm a shitty douchebag who only ruins the one good thing happening to him. I shouldn't have believed he words. I'm sorry, baby. I'm sorry." You could hear him get quiet over the phone. He didn't know you where stalking closer to the door and could hear him crying.

You open the door and threw your arms around him, " don't cry,eren.I forgive you,baby." He drops his head on your shoulder giving it small kisses.

"I promise I won't ever hurt you again ok baby? " his words comforted you and you believed them to be true.

"You don't even recognize the ways you hurt me,do you? It's gonna take a miracle bring me back."

You dated on and off for two years. It was like you were stuck in a loop while you were dating until the day he got on one knee and asked you to be his wife. Even though you were basking in your love for another your instincts were telling you your honeymoon phase would end soon because that's just how the cycle went. You were coming home from your job at the hospital. You had moved with eren a year back to a bigger apartment that could accommodate to the two of you. It was in a pretty nice neighborhood and neighbors not to nosy and more so on the friendly side.

"Hi, (y/n). I thought you had the day off today?" It was mrs.Johnson an old lady who lived beside you who gave you food from time to time. She gossips to you about all the latest news between the residents as she knows everything because she owns the buildings and you're grateful for the closeness in case you're short on rent one month.

"No ma'am I've been at work since 6 am this morning. I just want to go shower and heat up that food you brought yesterday." you fished for your keys before putting in the door knob.

"oh I thought heard you and eren earlier. Hah to be young and in love. Maybe I should get back into the dating scene." She gushes put seats at the idea making you leave.

Over the chuckles you look at her confused, "Mrs.Johnson...what do you mean you heard me and him earlier?"

"And you're the one to blame and now I feel like"

Kicking your off the shoes at the front door and slowly shutting the front door. Eyes scanning through the poorly dim living room catching clothes and shoes that belong to eren and some heels and a dress that surely wasn't yours. It said everything you needed to know as you stalk to your bedroom after hearing some laughter making sure your footsteps were light like you were on air.

The bedroom door was already wide open so you could gaze upon eren in his nakedness and girl you didn't even know the name of in your bed while pressing her breast against wren's chest.

"You cheating nigga." You're body got hot as the girl screamed and covered herself in the covers you and eren had picked out when you went looking for furniture.

"Who the fuck are you?" The girl had the audacity to ask like you were the one who interrupted and barged into their home.

"No, who the fuck are you? Last time I checked your name isn't on the fucking lease mine is? You nasty slut."

"Y/n, come on it isn't-" you interrupted eren not cutting eye contact with the girl putting your pointer finger to silence him

"You don't even fucking talk to me you cheating fucking liar," you look at him and start swinging your purse,"So all those times you cheated on me before weren't enough, huh?Why even ask me to marry you, you fucking dick!" You don't stop hitting him while the some of the content of your purse slosh out the sides, "I.hate.you. So. Fucking much. I hate you. I hate you. I loathe you." You don't stop until his chest is red.

Letting him be the object to take all your pain and anger on before you got pushed to side by the mystery woman of the hour.

"You can't just go around hitting him." she's covering her nude body with the sheets.

"Historia, what the fuck. Don't push her, are you fucking crazy?" Eren helps you up holding you back before you could bounce her and get your lick back, "just leave , fuck."

"Are you serious,eren? I thought we were having something special?"historia said baffled before you throw a pillow at her pushing her back.

"Dead serious now leave my fucking house,bitch." You told her before he even could.

Watching her stomp and grab her clothing aggressively off the ground before storming out and slamming the door as hard as she could.

It indicated that it was time to turn back to the person who was the main culprit pushing him away from you, " don't fucking touch me, eren! I want your ass out . Get your shit and leave!"

"Y/n, hold on to that, your foot is looking swollen and we should take you to the hospital to check that out, baby." He tries to hold you again but you move out the way of it.

"Don't call me baby, don't fucking touch me," you get up and try to stand on two feet but a shock of pain shoots up your left leg making you crumble in a small howl, "god dammit," you started crying not sure from the pain or the situation maybe even possibly both.

Eren finally comes over and starts to cradle you in his arms giving you reassuring hushes, " I told you, y/n. It looks like it could be broken but I'm not sure." He picks you up and holds onto you the best he could not letting you out pressure on it.

"I hate you eren. I hate you so much." You repeatedly say to him crying.

"I know baby just stay with me."

"Oh you're the reason why I'm thinkin', I don't wanna smoke on these cigarettes no more."

You're laying in bed with a cast on your leg for the next month and half because you landed wrong on your foot when you were pushed. As if you needed anymore reminders of Eren's infidelity. It mocks you everytime you look at it as you rage inside. There's a knock on your bedroom door.

"Baby, I brought you some food." It was eren. He insisted that he stay and take care of you because it was his fault. The doctor suggested you not be alone during this period so you could stay off of it. You agreed nonetheless the only condition that you stated was that he sleep on the couch and your door remain shut.

"Don't call me that eren." You turn the channel to something more interesting, "you can just leave the food on the bed. I'll eat it later." Not giving him a glance. Waiting to hear the door shut.

"Come on y/n it's been 4 weeks. When are you going to talk to me." He stands in front of the tv and you scoff.

"Maybe when you can turn back time and not sticking your dick in some rando and me having to walk in on it or better yet when you erase my memories of all the times you betrayed my trust and I went against all my instincts to give my heart to you again. But wait we can't do that now can we?," pointing to the cast on your foot in a dramatic way, " but here I am stuck with this fucking cast on my foot reminding me of the day over and over again of your fucking mistress pushing me after catching you to fucking in OUR bed. So when you can do all that, super man. I'll talk, k?" You huff out a breathe before turning your show louder to not hear him talk.

"Y/-"

"LA LA LA, I CANT HEAR YOU."

"Can you please stop being so chil-"

You turn it to the highest volume to drown him out before he grunts in anger and unplugs the tv.

"Hey! I was watching that. It's the only thing out of the two of you that won't cheat one me."

"Y/n! Just listen, please. I'm begging." He sits on the corner of the bed where his side used to be before putting his face in his hands sighing. You want to say more but you decide against it.

"I'm sorry, babe. I'm so sorry. She was a drunken mistake at first back when you first started working late at the hospital and we weren't really talking...I let it get out of hand." He said not facing you anymore feeling you stare his back down as you calculated it.

"So three fucking months after we got married? You couldn't stand being tied down for that long in the some cooch so you had to go find someone else? Why eren? Why? Am I boring? Am I ugly? Why am I not enough for you!? You asked me to marry you. I didn't force you. Not in this relationship. Not to be with me. Never. So what's fucking wrong with me that you seek the warmth of other woman." You pound on him with a pillow you could grab

"I don't know. I honestly don't. I-...I just get scared that what we have is to good. I want to mess it up to give you an excuse to leave me before you just leave out of nowhere." He drawls out a longer sigh than the first before he starts to wipe his face with his shirt.

"I wouldn't just up and leave you, eren. I love you with so much of my being and that's why every time I take you back and you do this shit again. I'm the big dummy! Not you everytime."

"I know, I know and I'm sorry I won't do this again, I promise baby. Just give me one last chance." He faces you with redden eyes from rubbing them with the rough fabric of his shirt.

"..,"you inhale some air and breathe out taking a few minutes to gather your words and clear your consciousness ,"I'm going to regret his Give me sometime eren, deal?"

"Ok baby." He gives you a singular kiss on the forehead before plugging back in your tv.

"Damn,ain't crazy when you're love swept? You'd do anything for the one you love."

It's been 3 weeks since the cast came off and to lsay eren was less than perfect was an understatement. Even after you were able to walk around he didn't let you lift a finger taking over all the chores and cooking.

You had just came home while seeing him whisper on the phone once he heard the door but you could see the vein on his forward throb.

You sneak up behind him and snake your arms around his waist while giving him a small kiss on his back, "hey babe."

"Don't call her again, I said you got the wrong number." He hung up the house phone before turning around to give you a kiss, "how was work?"

"It was pretty good just boring stuff today! Nothing to dish." You bend over the counter letting the new chain he got you in his name for your anniversary while he opens up take-out food containers," who was that on the phone anyway,E?"

"Nobody important. Just a telemarketer trying to sell us a new condo." He holds up one of the food," you want some of this?" He ask before putting it on your plate and you shake your head in disgust making him laugh.

"I'm glad we could work this out eren, I love you." You cuddle him on the couch as he swallows his bite of food before putting his arm around your shoulders, "I love you too."

"Cause anytime that you needed me I'd be there It's like you were my favorite drug,The only problem is that you was using me.In a different way than I was using you,but now that I know it's not meant to be I gotta go, I gotta wean myself off of you"

It was late at night while you couldn't go to sleep feeling sick for the past three weeks and when you heard the phone ringing off the hook .after the first time you got any sleep you were seething after the seventh time of it ringing, you got out the bed and snatch the phone up whispering harshly into it, "hello, who is this?" You were accompanied by nothing but static making you irritated before repeating yourself again.

"Eren...I-I'm two months pregnant,please.I cant do this without you, baby." It was Historia crying over the phone and talking but you couldn't hear any of it drooping the phone after the words pregnant left her mouth.

You stalked your way to the bedroom and woke eren up.

"Y/n? What's up baby?" He said groggily rubbing the sleep and his brown hair away His eyes.

"You lied to me again... you knew that she was pregnant! She was on the phone that day." You rip the covers from his body, " get out ,eren."

He perks up with swiftness, " let's talk about this."

"No.get the fuck out, we're done. GO meet your baby mama." You walk away forcing your anger on the objects around you. Throwing a lamp at the wall and screaming out with rage. Stripping the new sheets and covers from

The bed throwing them at him so push him towards the door, " get out now! You push him out the bedroom door by throwing things, " you lie and lie and lie. And I believe you every fucking time. I should have listened to my mother. Get the fuck out of my apartment, leave!"

Throwing the couch cushions at him to push him near the door ignoring his protests.

"This is why I didn't tell you. You would go fucking crazy like this , y/n! You never wanna talk to me about anything. It's always my fault." 

"Because it fucking is eren! I'm at fault for taking your stupid ass fake tears as something meaningful like you meant your words."

"SEE, I knew you wouldn't drop the old shit. I knew you still held that shut against me. Have I not proved enough by taking care of you all this time and not going out. Not hanging with my friends just being there for you?"

"DO YOU  NOT HEAR YOURSELF! you sound like a total jack ass right now. I never asked you to stop hanging out with your friends. When we got married we promised to take care of each other so you doing these petty ass chores and cooking for a month after I did it for you more than you did it for me! "

"God fucking dammit," he pounds his fist against the wall, " I'm done. I'll be back later." He slams the door open not bothering to shut it .

"NO, WE'RE DONE EREN. D-O-N-E." You yell from your spot. Gripping at your hair like your going crazy and screaming,yelling, and crying at different points in between tearing pictures off the wall and smashing them on the floor.flipping over chairs before falling on your knees crying hysterically into the ground.

There's a sharp pain in your stomach when you go down making your rub your stomach to try and soothe it thinking you got a tiny scrap or something and not caring to check at the moment to swamped in your thoughts. Soon blacking out from blood lost.

“Next time you wanna go on and leave,I should just let you go on and do it 'Cause now I'm using like I bleed”

You wake up with Mrs. Johnson rubbing your hand , " are you up now, honey?" Giving you a reassuring smile, "I'll go get the doctor." She pats your hand again twice.

It doesn't take long before they come into the room with your chart. Checking your eyes and mouth while asking questions of do you know where you are and how'd you get there.

"Well mrs. Y/n, I have some good news and I have some bad news." He checks the chart one last time and his smiling turning down for a smidge second, "congratulations are in order on your pregnancy," you stare at him like he was alien, " I take you didn't know?"

"I mean I just thought it was a stomach bug from some bad take out." You said rubbing your belly.

"You seem to be about 4 weeks,however" he pauses and Mrs.Johnson's grips your hand, " you had miscarriage, mrs.Johnson old us when she found you you were passed out so it was probably for a while. Although we tried to saved all 3 only 2 were we able to detect a heartbeat." You looked over at mrs.Johnson as your mouth went dry .

"I'm sorry for your loss ma'am.

"It's like I checked into rehab And baby, you're my disease"

"Baby? Y/n?" You could hear his voice but you don't respond to his call . Crying in silence not wanting him near you.

"There you are! I've been calling your name up and down the hospital. Did you not hear?" He was carrying a bouquet of your favorite flowers."

"I lost one of my babies eren." You're trying not to breakdown while your voice sounds but your voice sounds so defeated.

"What are you talking about? You were never pregnant...right?"

"I gotta check into rehab'Cause baby you're my disease"

You two are cuddling in your hospital bed. Your head is on his chest and your rubbing circles on your belly feeling butterflies flutter.

"I'm going to change baby. I promise. No more secrets." He says grip tightly on shoulder.

"Eren"

"Yeah?"

"I want a divorce."

#aot x you #aot x y/n #aot x black reader #aot x female reader #toxic eren #eren jeager x reader #eren x reader #eren x y/n #eren yaegar #eren x you #eren x black reader #eren x black y/n #Spotify

[mychlapci]

Prowl saying they should get rid of them? Nooo, the moment he suggests that Ratchet looks ready to throw hands, and if he didnt have an armful of bitlets he’d 100% beat the living daylights out of Prowl.

Maybe they switch every week once the second litter is old enough to spend more then a couple hours away from Megatron. Ratchet has the younger litter on the first week, everyone ends up loving the little guys- yet when they cry its just….sirens🚨. Extremely. Loud. Ambulance. Sirens. and then him and Megatron swap every sunday. The autobots trying to deal with demanding little brats once Ratchet has to parent the older bitties for the week, they bite, hiss and throw whatever their stubby arms can pick up, they’re strong for such tiny creatures, clearly their mix of genetics is the reason. But then they act like utter sweethearts for Ratchet so he doesnt believe any of the autobots saying his children are little twats because his sire-coding tells him they’re all trying to get his bitlets in trouble, tiny devils with bright blue optics and innocent-sounding giggles- innocent to Ratchet anyway.

They learn VERY quickly that Prowl shows the most emotion toward their shenanigans and he’s usually the one they annoy the most. Escaping whoever’s care their under when Ratchet has something important to and they escape JUST to annoy Prowl until he bluescreens or just drives off. I’d say something about lockdown / prowl but idk if it’d make sense but imagine prowl comes back from one of his little drives, those drives can last 4-5 days depending on how stressed he is, and he comes back pregnant. Anyway.

So naturally everyone fawns over the younger sparklings when its their turn to be round, Chubby cheeks with bright red optics is just too cute for even the most stubborn Autobots to ignore, so they get cuddles by everyone, ignoring that they carry the crazy warlord genes is hard, Even prowl interacts with these bitlets instead of the older hellspawns.

I really wanna draw the devil spawns, but like..I get so stressed drawing plus i almost broke my neck on some ice ;-;

SIDE RANT. Uh. Not really a rant I personally want to say that Burnt Ice anon seems to have a big brain thats really wrinkly because whatever they send gives the tingles, we need to make their ideas canon. 👍

- Chase anon, again im soo sorry i feel feral rn ;-;

I always enjoy the thought of grumpy, strict Ratchet being an absolute softie when it comes to his own bitlets. The older sparklings spent more time with Megatron so they're a little more hissy than the younger ones, which were born after Ratchet told everyone and therefore have been spending a little more time with him, and the autobots in general. But he loves all of them all the same. Oh, the older bitlets bit Prowl? No, they wouldn't do that! They're his bitlets, after all, and they've been raised with some manners, thank you very much! if they bit you, it was probably your own damn fault. He just coddles them so much that everyone is in complete disbelief that Ratchet even has that amount of kindness in him. 

Prowl eventually getting used to the younger bitlets because they're pretty sweet, all things considered, but the older ones he wishes would stay with Megatron. They're violent and they seem to only ever want to bite him. Of course, genocidal maniac genes carry on to all of the bitties, it's only a matter of time before the younger ones start causing trouble... Not to mention… Ratchet's pretty big and boxy. Megatron is twice as big and twice as boxy, so you know the bitlets are big, fat, and strong as hell. Menaces, the lot of them. 

Btw now i also kind of wanna draw the megaratch babies… i wish i had the time for it. and the art skills. oh well

#also. burnt ice anon this one goes out to you! everyone loves your mind. hell yeah #valveplug #kind of #megaratch evening

[withacapitalp]

@thefreakandthehair

Dearest Lex! First of all, happy birthday <3 People like you are once in a lifetime, and I'm so so grateful we've become friends. I tried to pull together a little surprise, I'm sure someone else has already posted theirs, but I scheduled mine to be here bright and early!!

For anyone not in the loop who wants to do something for Lex DM me!!

Link to Ao3

Eddie had never exactly had the best track record with birthdays. 

When he had been couch surfing with his mom and dad, there wasn’t exactly time for setting up a birthday party, or money for cake and presents. If he was lucky, his mom would get him a cheap toy car, or a lollipop that she swiped from the gas station — little ways to make the day special. She tried, she really did, but that was mostly at the start.

By ten, she seemed to have forgotten her son even had a birthday, too lost in the drugs to see him waiting for her to notice. Hell, there were even some years where he himself completely missed it. They would pass by somewhere, and Eddie would offhandedly see the date, realizing with a jolt that his birthday had passed days or weeks ago and nothing had changed. 

He hated those years most of all. 

But…but today was his thirteenth birthday. 

He was turning thirteen today, and he was finally in a place he could really call home. He was turning thirteen, and for the first time, Eddie wanted to let himself hope. He let himself day dream about a party with balloons and a cake littered with bright candles. He had thought endlessly about how Thirteen was going to be great, the best year yet. His year. 

Eddie had, foolishly, let himself think that things might be better now. After all, Wayne had been nothing but kind to him so far, always wanting to know what Eddie thought and listening when he told wild long winded stories. Wayne was good, and he seemed like the type to make birthdays something special. 

He woke up that morning, hope starting to stir in his chest, and it instantly vanished when he threw his arm out to wake his uncle, only to find that the other side of the bed was cold. 

Uncle Wayne wasn’t in the room they shared, and when Eddie wandered out, there was a post-it note on the fridge saying that he switched to the day shift, and he wouldn’t be home till 7:00 tonight. 

No cake, no presents, not even a card. He hadn’t even written Happy Birthday on the note. 

He tried not to be disappointed, tried to reason with himself, because Uncle Wayne might not have even known it was his birthday. He hadn’t even known Eddie existed until a few months ago, how could he know when his birthday was?

But there was a wrathful sad creature writhing in his chest, pressing down on that old wound and making it reopen, telling Eddie that if Wayne actually did love him, he would have known. He would have cared enough to ask. 

It wasn’t fair to think that way. His Uncle cared plenty. He had taken Eddie in, given him a home, shared his room and his food and his life when didn’t have to, and Eddie wanted to be grateful for all of that. He was grateful for all of that. 

He just also wanted Thirteen to be different. 

The rest of the day was the same. Eddie went through school in a daze, barely paying attention to his classes or the assholes all around that liked to make fun of him. No one wished him well, or asked how he felt to be thirteen, and he was almost kind of glad for that. 

Because thirteen felt the way that twelve did. It felt the way eleven, ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, and four did too. 

Thirteen sucked. 

By the time he got out of class and back to the trailer park, it was getting hard to hold back the tears pressing at his eyes. He lept into the trailer and shut the door with a bang, hitting his back against the door and sliding down. He collapsed onto the floor in a heap, sniffling and pressing his palms against his eyes, trying to make them stop before they started. 

Eddie had always been a crybaby. It was something his father had absolutely detested about him, something he had tried to beat out of his son time and time again. Those attempts had only made Eddie cry more, which made his father angrier, which started a vicious cycle, which led to scars and nightmares and all of the things Eddie just wanted to forget about. 

This wasn’t how Thirteen was supposed to be. He wasn’t supposed to be thinking about the bad things, he wasn’t supposed to be upset. 

“Why’re you cryin’ kiddo?” 

Eddie immediately startled at the unexpected voice, jumping with a gasp and accidentally smacking his head against the metal door. Now he was really crying, holding the back of his head with both hands and choking on cut off sobs. 

Wayne shot up from his easy chair and dashed over. He lifted his arm, probably only intending to help Eddie up, or check the back of his head for a lump. 

That wasn’t what Eddie saw. Eddie saw a hand raised his way, and tears on his cheeks, and knew he was about to get punished again for being a stupid crybaby. He flinched back, ducking his head between his legs and waiting. 

But no hand ever came. No screaming, no pain. Nothing. Hesitantly, Eddie lifted his head up, watching his uncle with fearful eyes. 

Wayne was still as a statue, his arms at his sides. There was a funny look on his face, a strangled kind of shock that looked uncomfortable. Eddie uncurled from his ball, lowering his arms and wrapping them around his knees loosely. 

“‘M sorry,” He mumbled, humiliated. This was really turning out to be his worst birthday ever. Wayne chewed on the inside of his cheek for a minute before slowly lowering himself down to the floor, groaning as his knees cracked loudly in the quiet trailer. 

“You don’t got to apologize,” Wayne said once he was on the ground. Eddie knew that was true. This wasn’t the first time they had done this particular song and dance, but it was the worst time. Wayne told him the same thing every time- he didn’t have to apologize. 

Eddie still felt the need to. 

“Sorry,” He repeated, cringing as the word flew out of his mouth. Wayne sucked a deep breath in and let it out in a long sigh, looking around as he contemplated his words. 

“Does it help you if I say I’m not angry with you?”

Eddie paused, considering. Whenever Wayne said he didn’t have to apologize, Eddie always felt like he needed to apologize for apologizing. It was silly, and confusing, and made his heart race. 

But the thought of knowing that Wayne wasn’t upset made his heart beat just a little bit slower, so Eddie nodded hesitantly. Wayne nodded back, clicking his tongue once and looking Eddie right in the eye, forcing him to look back. 

“Then I’m not angry with you. Not even a little bit, Eds,” Wayne said carefully, making sure every word was heard. 

It was the little nickname that really made Eddie’s shoulders start to relax. Wayne had started calling him that the third or fourth day after his arrival, and, every time he did it, Eddie felt just a little bit safer. 

Wayne let Eddie calm down a bit more, watching him brush away any lingering tears and take long shaking breaths. Then, when he was sure Eddie wasn’t going to fall apart again, he repeated his initial question in a soft, unexpectedly gentle, tone. 

“Why were you cryin’?”

Eddie’s cheeks flushed, and he ducked his head. Now that it was over, he felt ridiculous for falling apart like that. It was such a silly thing to get so upset over, and Wayne didn’t need to know. 

“I thought you had a shift?” Eddie said, changing the subject while smoothly avoiding the question.

“Got Gordie to take the last three hours. I wanted to be home to surprise you,” Wayne replied. 

A blinding rush of hope stabbed Eddie directly in the chest. He despised it for still existing, for not being beaten down by the reality of the life he had lived. Through all of it, he still had hope, he still wanted to believe something better was coming. 

Maybe that was stupid. Maybe it was brave. Maybe it was the only thing keeping Eddie alive at this point. He dropped his gaze to the floor between them, trying to gather up his courage. 

“Why?” Eddie whispered, unable to look up in case he was wrong. 

It was quiet. It was quiet for a long time. Eddie didn’t move, didn’t dare to even breathe too much. He couldn't until he heard the answer. 

“...It’s your birthday, kiddo,” Wayne said, each word coming out slow and measured, “You know that, right?”

Wayne knew. 

Wayne knew, and he had taken time off, even though they needed the money badly. He had given up those precious few hours just to be here for him. Just because he wanted to. 

The lump that had begun to ease out of his throat grew three times as big. 

“Then why’re you so surprised that I’d wanna be here?” Wayne wondered, sounding confused, but also sad. Guilt began to bloom in his stomach, but Eddie couldn’t bear the thought of lying right now. 

“Didn’t think you knew,” Eddie mumbled, feeling his lashes starting to stick together. The unspoken ‘didn’t think you cared’ sat heavy in the air between them. 

Eddie dropped his head between his knees again, hating himself for thinking badly about Wayne. His uncle had done nothing but care for him this entire time, making sacrifice after sacrifice, and Eddie had really thought he would do something as terrible as this? What kind of person was he? 

Wayne, unaware of Eddie’s internal battle, spoke slowly, taking his time with each word the way he always did. 

“Got it out of the paperwork your social worker sent me,” Wayne said, hesitating for a second before lowering his voice into a whisper before asking his next question. 

“Is that what got you all upset?”

This is where it would be smart to lie. 

If it was his father, Eddie would have lied. 

If it was mother, Eddie would have lied. 

If it was anyone but Wayne, Eddie would have lied. 

Instead, he gave the tiniest nod he possibly could, taking the risk of falling and hoping his uncle was serious about wanting to catch him. 

Wayne sighed heavily, and Eddie raised his head just enough to watch as his uncle shook his head and got to his feet, only walking a few steps before coming to sit next to Eddie by the door. 

“I’m sorry. I thought about wakin’ you when I left, but I wanted to let you sleep. I should’ve done that, and I apologize,” Wayne said, lowering his arm around Eddie’s shoulders and tugging him in for a sideways hug. 

It always amazed Eddie how quickly Wayne would apologize for things. He had never heard his father say he was sorry, but Wayne did it all the time. If Eddie’s toast was too crunchy, if he was late coming home, every time he thought he misstepped, he said he was sorry. For all the little things, and all the big things too. 

It was strange, but it was probably the thing he liked most about living with Wayne. With Wayne, Eddie wasn’t always the one who had done the wrong thing. 

“But I had a plan, if you wanted?” Wayne offered, and Eddie nodded his head against Wayne’s shoulder, still not ready to talk. 

“Well, I figured we could grab a slice or two, ‘n go to the movies. See that new one you were talkin’ about? Salem’s Somethin’? Thought you might like to see your first official PG 13 movie together,”

“That sounds nice,” Eddie whispered, the smallest trace of a smile gracing his face as Wayne grinned when he spoke. 

“Yeah, then after I uh I got you a cupcake? You said you like red velvet, so I tried to get a cake, but the bakery only did cupcakes. I got a chocolate one for me, but I have a candle you can put in it.” Wayne continued, pointing over to the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room. There was a pink box sitting there, tied tightly with white twine that came together in a pretty bow on the top. 

Eddie couldn’t even remember talking about his favorite kind of cake with Wayne. But Wayne remembered, and the thought of that flooded him with warmth from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. 

He let his legs slide out straight, sitting right next to his uncle’s. His feet only reached about three quarters of the way down his uncle’s calves, but Wayne swore that would change soon. He liked to call Eddie a ‘bean pole in the making’ and that always made him laugh. 

“Oh, and I got a present for ya,” 

“A present?” Eddie wondered aloud, amazed. The movie and pizza was already so much, and the cupcake was even more. Weren’t those his presents? 

“Yeah. Go wait on the couch and close your eyes, alright? Didn’t get a chance to wrap it,” Wayne instructed, briefly stopping to ruffle Eddie’s curls before walking down the hallway to their room. 

Eddie stood on slightly shaky legs, walking over to the couch in a daze and sitting in the corner. He closed his eyes, letting the darkness take his vision as he waited, unable to guess what his present might be. 

He heard Wayne walk back over, and something heavy was placed in his lap. It was big, really big, and Eddie’s leg began to bounce in anticipation. 

“Okay, you can open ‘em,” Wayne said, and Eddie’s eyes flashed open. 

There was a guitar case in his lap. 

A real life, genuine, honest to god, guitar case. 

Eddie stared at it with big bug eyes, every single thought rushing out of his head as fast as they could go. He lifted one trembling hand and put it on the hard plastic, feeling the scratches and grooves with his fingers as he stared down at it. 

It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. 

He lifted it out of his lap, and stood up. Wayne stepped back, and Eddie kneeled down, feeling for the latches and lifting them. The guitar was somehow even better than the case. It was a soft amber wood acoustic, with a few stickers adorning the bottom, and strings that were just starting to fray at the top. 

It was perfect. Absolutely perfect. 

“Dean, my manager at the plant? He said he was lookin’ to get a new one, so I convinced ‘im to sell me this one. ‘S a little old, and he said it’ll be finicky, but it’s a good starter guitar. Thought you might like to make some music, seein’ as you listen to so much of it,” Wayne explained. 

That was a lot more talking than he was used to from his uncle. When Eddie looked up with a wide eyed expression, still unable to speak, Wayne’s strange bout of nerves vanished. 

“I know it ain’t much,” Wayne started, hunching in his shoulders, “But-”

“I love it,” 

That was Eddie’s voice, but he didn’t think he had spoken. The words weren’t good enough. They would never be good enough. No words would ever be able to even start to explain how Eddie was feeling. He stood up and wrapped his arms tight around his uncle’s middle, burying his face in the man’s chest and trying to hide the treacherous tears that had escaped once more. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you,” Eddie whispered endlessly, wishing that there was something better to say. 

Wayne seemed shocked, but he recovered quickly, patting Eddie on the back. 

“C’mon now,” Wayne muttered, probably embarrassed by the outburst. Eddie didn’t care. He squeezed even tighter, trying to convey everything he could with a hug, because words were pale in comparison. 

Wayne finally resolved to just let Eddie get this out, sighing and wrapping his arms around the boy’s shoulders. 

“Alright. You’re alright now,” Wayne whispered, putting his chin on the top of Eddie’s head, knowing he couldn’t do that for very much longer. 

And Eddie believed him. For the first time he let himself think things were going to get better without being afraid. 

#I KNOW PG13 WASNT A THING YET BUT #I needed it #Happy Birthday Lex! #Eddie munson #Wayne munson #Eddie and wayne #good Uncle Wayne munson #good parent Wayne munson #munson family #baby Eddie #means so much to me #and Wayne is so fucking good #I thought I'd give you some good good hurt comfort #st #stranger things #stranger things 4 #st ficlet #stranger things ficlet #stranger things fic #Eddie munson fic #Eddie munson ficlet #Liam speaks up #Writing(withacapitalW)

[updownlately]

‘cause when you love someone (you tell ‘em that you do)

you had gotten used to it at this point. the pattern had become obvious to you- engrained in your mind. seven long rings before the call would automatically switch to voicemail, the distinct beep following shortly after.

letting the call go to its final ring, you futilely wiped away the tears streaming down your reddened cheeks, blotched from the innumerable times you had rubbed them already. 

swallowing hard to gain an ounce of composure, you took a deep breath in just as the final ring went through, the resounding tone following shortly after indicating for you to start speaking.

“hi...it’s me again. i know you’re probably sick of me…i don’t even know if you’re hearing this, or if you’ve heard the other…twenty? fifty? i’ve sent but-” you stifled a sob, a shaky breath escaping you. letting yourself sink more towards the floor as you continued. “i’m sorry. i know i’ve said it so many times now, i think the word’s almost lost its meaning, but i’m sorry. i swear i am. i swear…i swear…i really do...” 

feeling your hands start to shake, you stiffened your arms in hope that they would stop. taking another big breath in, you found your voice once more. 

“your voice still rings in my head y’know? reminding me to pack my cleats. convincing me to stay in bed just a tad bit longer. telling me to come cuddle you after practice. it still rings. it rings and rings and rings. and i wish i could just make it stop- but i can’t. i can’t. ‘cause if it does, i lose you. i lose you completely. forever. and i don’t know if i’m ready for that just yet.”

you were aware that you were rambling- too caught up in your emotions to stop the words, the anger, from slipping out, but you couldn’t help it. 

maybe if this was a sane you, you would have stopped a while ago. maybe after the second call, or the third. but this wasn’t the sane you, the same you, from a month ago. so here you sat, on your cold bathroom tiles, slumped nearly halfway in a position that could not, in any universe, be comfortable, holding your phone as used kleenexes littered the bin beside you. 

sniffling, you reached for another tissue, before continuing. 

“i should’ve told you i loved you a bit more…should’ve picked my phone every time you called, should’ve taken more pictures of you y’know? taken you out more. more dinners. more nights. more cuddles. more everything. because i can’t now. i can’t…”

by now you could feel the silent sobs working their way up your chest again- a feeling you had become all too familiar with in the past few weeks. the uneasy butterflies flying around your stomach. the way your chest would constrict just enough that breathing reminded you of the weight on your chest- the regret that you carried. the voices that were just a distant souvenir. the good times that no one else could ever remember for you. 

giving up on trying to stop yourself from breaking, you let yourself cry without restraint, weeping uncontrollably, not trying to stifle your sobs in the least, well aware no one was going to check up on you.  

you couldn’t imagine how stuffy your voice sounded, how absolutely wrecked you looked, photo frame clutched to your chest by one hand, puffy eyes, near-lifeless body hidden by the corner of your dark bathroom.

“i know i only have a little bit more till this thing ends so just know that it breaks my heart every second that i realize you aren’t here. it hurts each time the memories play in my head- the good and the bad. i didn’t think this would be that hard, but it is. it is and i don’t think i know how to do this. how to grieve. how to miss you when i still can’t believe you left. how to get over you when all i want is for you to be here.”

rushing now to get your final words out, well aware the clock was ticking, you sped up. 

“i should’ve told you i loved you when i could. i didn’t know i was gonna lose you so soon. there isn’t a single thing i wouldn’t do to get another second with you. i didn’t get the chance to even tell you i love you one last time, but just know that i do…i promise i still do. i do, i do, i do. i still-“. just as the final words were about to slip out of your mouth, the all too familiar dial tone took over, the timer up, the clock running out…just like it had for you both, unsaid words still on the tip of your tongue. 

i love you.

#my writing #cwyls(ytetyd) #not proofread #my random writes #its literally straight outta my 2am drafts. #angst #go hug your loved ones for me please #go listen to their rambling #tell them you love em #hug em a bit tighter

[siempre-bucky]

Some people have had mixed opinions about this but I think Eddie is 100% a switch! Like sure, some days he’ll rail you in to next week and have you screaming his name but other times, especially when he’s stressed or sad, he’ll just give you those big puppy dog eyes and you know he needs you to take over for a little, reduce his stress for him

Eddie is 100% a switch! I can see totally see it. 

SMUT under the cut minors dni

When he’s in control, Eddie loves to have himself retraining you. One of his large hands gripping your stacked wrists above your head, the combination of his rings and the wall will litter you deliciously with bruises. His lust-blown brown eyes watching your pleasure-contorted face as he roughly fingers you, curling the digits to hit your g-spot with every thrust. “Eddie—please! I can’t,” you whine pathetically, writhing against him. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” he mockingly whines back, laughing tauntingly afterward. “Give me one more, make my bed a mess.” He abruptly took his fingers out and slapped your glistening cunt, making you scream his name. “Are you a good girl?” 

“I-I’m a good girl, I’m y-your good girl, sir,” you panted, knitting your eyebrows together. 

Eddie placed a kiss on your jaw as his fingers entered you once more, his other hand tightening on your wrists.  “Than make—a—mess,” he grunted, fingers fucking you as fast as he could muster. With a loud moan ripping through your throat, squirt covered the wet mattress and his hand. He kissed your forehead lovingly as your body slacked, scooping you into his arms, “That’s my girl, that’s my good girl.” 

Sub Eddie on the other hand… is so soft and he just wants to be taken care of. 

He likes the most when you’re in bed together. You sitting next to him, completely naked so he can gaze at the stunning figure you won’t let him touch. “How does this feel, baby?” you cooed, planting kisses on his neck while your hand lazily stroked his overstimulated cock. Cum painted his bare stomach, his abs clenching for another approaching orgasm. 

The hem of Eddie’s black band t-shirt gripped between his clenched teeth, pearls of sweat sliding across his blushing skin. “It feels g-good, mommy,” he mewled, bucking his hips into your hand. You gently pushed his boney hips down with your hand and increased your speed. 

“Who’s making you feel this way?” you asked, teeth sinking into his collarbone. 

His abs clenched tighter, his grip bruising on your thigh and the sheet he was holding with his hands. His face scrunched and a soft moan released from his lips, “You, baby,” he whispered.

Your hand stopped and you pulled away to look at him with dark eyes. “What do you call me, baby boy?” 

“M-mommy. I’m sorry, mommy, please, please I wanna cum. It hurts,” he pleaded. 

Of course, when he told you about the pain everything shifted. Neither of you could hold up the persona much longer. “Cum for me, Eddie. Cum for me.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut

[crimson-calligraphyx]

16: The Letdown

A/N: For those who aren't familiar with the term "sanitation department", that is part of the DPW that takes care of your trash (aka, trashmen lol). I'm basing this part off of an actual story from my step dad, as he was a route supervisor. P.S. Sorry Noah's POV is so short in this chapter.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.”

It hasn’t even been a full week of being back at work and this place was already stressing me out. Whoever filled in my position while I was out left my office in complete disarray. Reports that needed to be completed and submitted littered my desk, fast food wrappers and empty water and soda bottles scattered on the floor next to the trash—which was ironic since we work in the sanitation department for the town—other documents that weren’t properly filed away. The list goes on, but the tidiness of my office was the least of my concerns right now.

I just got off the phone with Mike, one of the new truck drivers we recently hired, telling me he had gotten in an accident with one of the packers. Not only do we have to report it and cover the damage of whatever he hit, we now have to give him a drug test to make sure that he doesn’t have any substances in his system. If he fails said test, we have to let him go, and we cannot afford that right now. Frustrated, I threw my phone on the passenger seat and made my way over to the scene.

When I arrived, the police were already there taking down the information about the accident. I made my way over to Mike; he was visibly shaking as his nerves were most likely on the fritz. “Alright,” I sighed, “tell me what happened.”

Mike takes the brim of his hat in his hand and pulls it off, scratching the back of his head nervously. “I’m so sorry, Liv. I was switching lanes,” he motioned towards the truck, “and didn’t see the car in my mirror. Clipped the corner of his car and he went flying into the telephone pole there.” I looked over to said telephone pole, and sure enough, there was a white sedan crunched up against it. I bring my hand to my forehead, tipping my head back in frustration—that car was mangled, and we were most certainly paying for a new one.

“Is the owner hurt?” I asked, looking behind him to see if there was an ambulance on scene. He shrugged, “Said he was fine, insisted he didn’t need to go to the ER.” I pursed my lips, waving my hand as if to say, ‘oh well’. “That’s his own problem, then.” If the driver tries to get looked at after the report, he can’t claim it as part of the accident—which was foolish on his end.

I sucked in a deep breath, “Well,” I exhaled harshly, “you know what’s coming, right?” “Yep,” he nods dejectedly. That right there worried me; his demeanor projected that he was going to fail the drug test. “I’m getting fired, aren’t I?” “Well, that depends. Are you going to fail the drug test?” He knits his eyebrows and cocks his head in confusion, “Drug test?” “Yeah,” I laughed nervously. “We’re required to test you when you get in an accident. If you fail, you get the boot.” His face relaxes and he straightens up, “Oh, no—” “Heather Feather!”

My stomach immediately churns and the hair at the nape of my neck stands on-end with anxiety. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath to brace myself for the interaction that was about to happen. When I opened them, there stood Darren, his lips pulled into a smug smirk. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” he says sweetly. I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, well, it’s part of my job to assess the scene of an accident.” “Right, right,” he nods slowly, then gives Mike a once-over. “So, this would be one of the guys you’re training? Do you even know how to drive trash trucks?” I scoffed, shaking my head. “Darren, what the fuck are you even doing here?” He laughs, “That’s no way to speak to a civilian.” I shot daggers at him, urging him to continue. “That was my car that this moron hit.”

Of course it was.

“Shoulda hit you harder,” I mumbled to myself. He cups his ear, turning it towards me. “I’m sorry, what was that?” “I don’t have time for this,” I groaned and brushed past him. “By the way, don’t talk about my employees like that,” I shouted over my shoulder. “Yeah, real professional, Heather! Gonna go follow in daddy’s footsteps and drink on the job?” I ball my hands into fists and grit my teeth, doing everything in my power to not turn around and punch him square in the jaw. He knows how much my father’s illness took a toll on me, and to throw that in my face was beyond disgusting. It was vile—how could you say that to someone?

When I returned to my work truck, I threw my fist into the door, imagining it was Darren’s face. “Fuck!” I yelped out in pain, curling my hand into my chest as tears sprung to my eyes. After a minute of breathing deep to try and alleviate the pain, I took a gander at my now bloodied hand. It was throbbing and beginning to swell already, but I didn’t think there was any real damage to it. I hopped into the driver’s seat and gripped the steering wheel, promptly banging my head against it in frustration.

Darren was right—I wanted nothing more than to drink a bottle to my face to rid the anger I had flowing in my veins. As if on autopilot, I drove myself down to the nearest liquor store, parked around the corner and took off my hi-vis vest before I went inside to buy a bottle. When I got back into the truck, I stared at the vodka in my shaking hands as I anticipated the relief I was about to feel. There was nothing that calmed my nerves more, other than Noah.

Noah.

I was a few days over a month sober, and he had just made it a point to show me how proud he was because of it. That day was so special—I could recall the glimmer in his eyes as he held me, the radiant smile he brandished when we made ourselves official, the detail of making damn near everything red and how he brushed my tears away when I felt I was undeserving. To have him go above and beyond for me and then have me ruin it by opening this bottle would be insulting to him. To us. Just picturing his smile falter and his eyes lose their shine was enough to make me dump the booze out and toss the bottle in the nearest trash. I couldn’t do that to him. I couldn’t do this to myself.

I had been so tired when I got home, the first thing that I did was kick off my work boots and grab a pack of frozen peas for my hand. I threw myself on my couch and held the peas against my knuckles, sighing with relief as it began to soothe the ache. I shut my eyes and rested my head against the back of the couch just as someone knocked on my door. “It’s open!” I called out, too tired to move. The door opens and softly clicks shut, and I knew that it was Noah without having to open my eyes just by the sound of his footsteps. “Hey,” he greets me gently, kissing me on my forehead. I smile and hum lightly, opening my eyes to him standing behind me. He flashes me a warm smile, but it quickly falters as he averts his eyes down to my hand. “What happened to your hand?” I snort as I recalled my stupidity from earlier, rolling my head back and forth on the cushion. “Oh, nothing. Just hit my hand at work.” I wasn’t lying—I did hit my hand at work.

He scrunches his lips to the side, not buying my story, but chooses not to press it. He held up a shopping bag that I hadn’t noticed, “I brought something to cook for dinner.” I sat up and turned towards him, “Really? You didn’t have to do that,” I tell him with an appreciative smile. He shrugs, his lips curling at the corners, “I know, but I wanted to. It’s something simple, but how does chicken fettuccine Alfredo sound so you?” “Sounds like I’m starving,” I giggle and stand up, following him into the kitchen after I gave him my approval.

I brought out the kitchenware that he needed but gave him his space as he denied my assistance with dinner. I sat myself on the kitchen island, admiring how comfortable he seemed while cooking. He had his hair pulled into a messy bun, allowing me to see the corner of his mouth, forming into a smug grin as he hummed to himself. He knew how to time everything perfectly as he cooked; he threw the Alfredo sauce on the pasta just as he was finishing up sizzling the chicken breast. After he sliced it into thin strips and tossed it into the pot, he turned around with two plates in his hand and cocks his head towards the kitchen table.

The act of kindness warmed my heart, even if it was as simple as cooking dinner. I’ve never had a significant other cook me dinner before, so this was completely foreign to me.

“Are you going to eat?” Noah asks me, chuckling. I had been gazing at him, admiring the warmth of his chocolatey eyes and the way a few strands fell loose from his bun and framed his face as he grinned angelically—he was just so perfect. I breathed out a quiet laugh, smiling down at my plate as my cheeks flushed. “Yeah, sorry,” I say as I twirl a bit of pasta on my fork. I groaned with satisfaction once it hit my tongue, earning a snicker from him. “What?” He shakes his head, “Nothing. You’re just cute when you get all shy and start to blush.” I rolled my eyes with an amused smirk.

We ate in comfortable silence, enjoying the peace around us. When we were finished eating, he cleared the table for me and began washing the dishes until I stopped him. He has done far more than enough for me tonight—in general, actually—there was no need for him to do anything else. We bickered for a minute about the dishes, but I eventually convinced him to join me on the couch to watch a movie.

He had his arm draped over my shoulders as I tucked in against his chest. My hand laid across his lap; he grabs it and aimlessly runs his thumb across my wounded knuckles. “You gonna tell me what really happened to your hand?” he asks gently. I picked my head up to look at him, the concern on his face bringing the guilt of the white lie I gave him earlier to the surface. “I may or may not have punched my work truck today.” “And why did you do that?” I put my head back down on his chest, avoiding his eyes as I mumbled, “Work sucks.” “I know,” he sings in tune of “All the Small Things”, earning a laugh from the both of us.

“I’m sorry, Liv. Why’d you feel the need to punch your truck, though?” he asks as he picks my hand up and kisses my knuckles one by one. “One of the guys hit a car today,” I sighed as I recalled the events from earlier. “And of course, the car just so happened to be Darren’s.” I felt his body tense briefly. “He said some unkind things to me.” He kisses the top of my head. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “What did he say?” I felt my stomach flip when I heard Darren’s words in my head again. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, “He asked me if I was going to drink on the job like my dad.”

I swear I could feel the rage surge through Noah. He fists both hands, letting go of mine and brings his left to his face. I looked up at him; he turned his head away from me, but I could see that his jaw was clenched as he held his fist against his lips. He was bouncing his leg, which made me sit up and turn my body towards him.

“Noah,” I say softly as I pull his hand away from his face, guiding him to look my way. “It’s okay, they’re just words.” “No, it’s not okay,” he retorts sternly. “Your father just died, and he says that to you?” “He probably didn’t know—” He shakes his head, “Stop. Don’t defend him, it was completely uncalled for!” “Noah, I promise it’s okay—” He motions towards my hand, “But it caused you to hurt your hand. That’s not okay.” I palmed his face between both hands, having him look me in the eye. “I punched the door instead of drinking, Noah. Believe me, I wanted to drink.” I laughed at my foolish actions, “I even bought the booze, but I dumped it out. I thought about how happy you were for me and what you did, and I couldn’t bear the thought of hurting you by relapsing.”

I watched his face soften as he took in my words, an inkling of a smile forming on his lips. He sighs and closes his eyes, nodding slightly before he pulls me into a tight hug. “I’m so proud of you,” he whispers into my hair. “I’m sorry that motherfucker said that to you and I’m sorry that you hurt your hand, but I am so proud of you, Liv.” He huffs after a moment, “I really hate to be a huge letdown right about now, but there’s a reason I cooked dinner for you tonight.”

My heart jumps into my throat with anxiety as I break away from him, my mind racing as I wondered what it was he needed to tell me. I searched his eyes—they seemed almost remorseful for what he was about to say.

“We’re going on another tour soon, and I wanted to discuss it with you over dinner. You looked so happy, I didn’t want to bring it up and ruin the moment,” he gives me a sympathetic smile. I closed my eyes and nodded sadly, my heart now sinking to the pit of my stomach. He places a hand on my cheek, rubbing it softly with his thumb. “I promise to call you every day, okay? When shit gets tough, you call me. I won’t do what I did last time.” “Okay,” I whispered, disappointed and unsure of what else to say.

He pulls me into another embrace, my head on his chest as he rubs the back of my head. I wanted nothing more than to relish the feel of him and burn it into me so I could feel it while he was out on tour. I breathed in his calming cedar wood aroma, listened to his steady heartbeat, focused on his fingers kneading into my hair as I relaxed on him. He lies down on the couch, pulling me on top of him and wraps an arm around me securely while still playing with my hair.

As I began to drift off to sleep, I kept telling myself that it wasn’t going to be the end of the world. It might be tough on some days, but I’ll make it through just fine. I’m sure of it.

Noah

Hearing Olivia say that she almost relapsed after being back at work for only a few days really had me worried. Although it was flattering having her tell me she stayed sober because of me, I wanted her to stay sober for herself. I was proud of her for doing so nonetheless, but I was still apprehensive to not be around in case she really needed me.

I tried my best to calm my racing mind by focusing on packing everything that I needed for the next month or so. My mind was still going a mile a minute—I picked up my suitcase and dumped it back out on my bed to re-pack it as a way to further distract myself. “Dude, what are you doing?” I shook my head and dropped the shirt I had in my hands to look at Nicholas. “I don’t even know,” I laughed at myself. “Just making sure I didn’t under or over pack, I guess.” “Riiight,” he quirks an eyebrow as he crosses the room. He claps a hand on my shoulder, “What’s up? You’ve been distant lately.” I picked up the shirt again, fanning it out in front of me before folding it and tossing it aggressively into the suitcase. Groaning, I threw my head back before plopping myself down in the beanbag chair. I sighed, running a hand down my face. “I’m just nervous. It’s a longer tour this time around.” “So? You’ve always said that you like to keep busy. What are you so nervous about?”

I shrugged, resting my head on the chair to stare at the ceiling in hopes of dropping the conversation. I heard him sit in my gaming chair and wheel it over to me. I look up to see him leaning forward with his hands clasped together between his legs, staring at me. He watches me, his face made of stone as he waits for me to crack. “Alright,” I huffed, giving in, and slap my thighs as I sit up, “I’m just worried about Liv.” He sighs, “Dude, you can’t let that get to you. She’ll be fine, I’m sure of it.” I rubbed the back of my neck, “I dunno. She almost had a drink a few days after she went back to work.” He cringes as I continue, “She said she didn’t because she thought of me, which is great and all, but I’m not gonna be around. I want her to stay sober for herself, not me.” He pursed his lips into a line as he nods his head slowly, now understanding my concern.

He raises his eyebrows as he straightens up, waving his index finger in the air. “I have an idea. It might be a little silly, but it’s worth a shot.” “I’m listening.” “If, for right now, she needs to think of you for an anchor, why don’t you leave things scattered around her place for her to find?” I furrow my brows in confusion, “What kind of things?” “You know,” he waves his hand, gesturing around my room. “Things of yours, or little things that’ll make her think of you. Notes, clothes, random sentimental shit.” I pondered for a minute, nodding as I absorbed and liked the idea. Who knew my best friend could be so smart?

|Chapter 17|

#noah sebastian #bad omens band #bad omens #fanfic writing #fan fiction #fanfic #romance

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Nerd-nia

Dear @sunnyrosewritesstuff was so good to send me another set of prompts. I have promptly decided to use the AU @dimdiamond and I have come up with for our THAUC story "Song as old as rhyme".

Here is a small snippet about our favourite grumpy uncles...Enjoy!!

Words: 1,2 k

Warnings: Sexual innuendo

Characters: Bagginshield

Bilbo hummed happily as he lifted a stack of books into his arms; it was rare now for him to play an active role in the daily dealings of the bookshop and he was delighted to slip back into the old routine.

“Where do you want these?” Thorin asked, trying – without much success – to blow a strand of silvery-black hair out of his face, and Bilbo’s heart picked up its pace.

Even after all this time together, he still couldn’t believe that this savage beauty was his to have and to hold. Thorin was a marvellous man and a reliable partner and seeing him back in the old shop where they had first met plunged Bilbo into a torrent of cherished memories.

Never would he have expected what monumental changes would occur when he had invited Nepheli’s favourite author to do a public reading in his quaint little book shop and here they were, so altered that he could hardly remember the man he had been before meeting that sour-faced and tender-hearted man standing before him right in this second.

“Baggin’s Books” was closed for the week as they undertook several works of renovation and modernisation; for this express purpose, everyone had come back to the sleepy town and – had he been a more openly sentimental fool – Bilbo would have wept for joy and gratitude upon seeing his young people return.

Nepheli and her cohort were upstairs in the little flat he had once lived in and cleaned away the last of Bilbo’s possessions that seemed to flow out from a secret cornucopia to always litter some forgotten shelf or discreet corner anew when they thought they had gotten rid of it for good.

Meanwhile, Thorin had offered to help Bilbo prepare the book shop proper for the biggest change they had planned: they’d break through the roof of the shop and turn the former residence of one Bilbo Baggins – bachelor and book seller – into a study centre, complete with computers and a retired teacher in attendance.

“Bilbo?” Thorin prompted again, giving the heavy wrought-iron decorations he had pried off the wall an inquisitive wriggle.

“Ah, forgive me,” Bilbo chuckled awkwardly, “let’s put those into the back storage room. Who knows? We might get to use them again?”

So many things had been let go quietly since that fateful reading and Bilbo looked back on the whirlwind that had become his life with fond nostalgia; abandoning the flat for good smarted somewhat as it definitively and irrevocably stated that Bilbo would never live here again.

Already, his visits to this blessed realm of calm had become more irregular over the years as he had thought it necessary to support Thorin in his own push for independence and freedom. Nonetheless, Bilbo was not worried; he had trained Nepheli well and – with the help of both her discreet husband and their much less effaced best friend – she had kept the ship afloat just fine.

“Love, can you go open the door for me, please?” Thorin interrupted his daydreaming once more and Bilbo leapt guiltily into action right away, hurrying towards the oldest part of the building.

As it turned out that his esteemed spouse took immense pleasure in tearing down walls and hewing gaping holes into roofs, Bilbo wondered distractedly if he should let Thorin replace that old, temperamental door as well.

Having been absurdly scatter-brained all day long, Bilbo did not realise that he had pushed open the door and gone in before Thorin – who was still holding an armful of unwieldy metal spikes – until the door slammed shut behind them and they were plunged into darkness.

The first thing to do was to locate the light switch, of course, only this turned out much more difficult than expected for it was surprisingly hard to get around his beloved and his charge without seeing him. Once or twice, Bilbo almost poked his eye out or impaled himself on a metal animal in his brave quest for illumination.

“Ah, there we are,” he finally grunted when a flickering, weak light pervaded the cramped space. “Put those on a shelf.”

“Which shelf, love? They all look rather…full,” Thorin muttered; he knew that Bilbo had his own vision of things and generally thought that his train of thought was self-evident even though it rarely was.

“Put it with the semi-formal napkins,” Bilbo replied, rummaging around in a box full of lightbulbs of different sizes and shapes for no apparent reason.

“Semi…” Impatiently, Thorin freed his arms by tossing the whole load onto the nearest, halfway-free shelf and turned around to get out of the room again because he distinctly felt that he was in the way of whatever self-discovery Bilbo was on the brink of achieving.

The door wouldn’t budge.

Thorin threw himself against it, but – with an ominously mocking groan – the door seemed to get stuck even further if anything.

“Bilbo, my love?” Thorin called without turning around. “The door is stuck.”

Making a non-committal sound, Bilbo reached around the healthy bulk of his lover and rattled the handle a few times.

“So it is,” he commented calmly. “I guess we’ll have to knock and hope that one of the young people will end up missing us.”

Thorin frowned. “As if any of these heathens wasted a single thought on their poor, old uncles!”

“You sound like a miserable doter, Thorin,” Bilbo snorted, letting go of the doorknob and placing that firm, slightly pudgy hand onto Thorin’s hip. “We have light, an old bottle of top-notch whiskey I was offered some years ago, and a bit of time.”

He allowed himself to laugh at the ludicrous situation they found themselves in.

“We’ve been in tighter spots before, my love,” he finally crooned, pulling Thorin into a corner of the tiny room and pressing his lips soothingly onto that stern, pinched mouth. “Why don’t we let them do all the work while we canoodle in here like the soppy, old jesters that we are?”

A dangerous light flashed in Thorin’s azure eyes as he understood his meaning.

“That can be arranged,” he growled, grabbing Bilbo’s soft chin and tilting his face up for another kiss. “Are you terribly fond of all the bits and bobs in here?”

Bilbo shrugged one shoulder dismissively as his hands made their way up Thorin’s broad back slowly. “Why?”

“I cannot guarantee that none will come to harm in the process,” Thorin admitted, lifting Bilbo into his arms and leaning him as cautiously as he could against one of those overflowing shelves lining the bare walls. “You know how I get.”

“Welcome home, Thorin,” Bilbo purred, slinging his legs around his husband’s hips with treacherous urgency. “Let’s hope nobody misses us all too soon.”

The acquiescing rumble escaping Thorin’s tight throat melted into a low groan though as soon as Bilbo started squirming against him in a way that could not be misunderstood.

Upstairs, Nepheli frowned at the sound of breaking glass and falling metal. “I hope the poor dears are not doing more than they should. I am quite worried about their old bones,” she whispered and blinked when Fíli broke into roaring laughter.

“I’m sure they’re fine,” Ori grinned and kissed her temple lovingly. “Never you worry, my dear love.”

So, dear @fellowshipofthefics, here's another entry for the January Trope Roulette.

Lots of love from me!!!

#og post #fotfics #january trope roulette #fellowship of the fics #IDNMT writes #fanfiction #writing #tolkien #Modern!Au #Bagginshield #Thorin #Bilbo #Thilbo #Song as old as rhyme AU #THAUC AU #bookshop AU #locked in

[ask-feederjin]

How is Jungkook losing his mobility? I want to know how much Jungkook weighs! and how it is to eat <3

Heya! JK here!

Surprised? >_< I’d hope so! I AM the first of the guys to figure out Jin’s password, after all!

You see, we kinda had a competition going to see who got to have their own solo post first. It got a bit heated though, so Jin (ever the peacekeeper lol) changed the password and has been making us guess and guess and guess, for weeks!

Well! I got it!

...on accident.

God, he’s such a goober. I had requested that Jin get me a two liter coke for this trilogy I was gonna marathon, and so when he handed it over I just said, “You’re the best, Jin!”

He busted out that weird honky laugh of his and revealed that that was literally the password! A very specific compliment! I just can’t with this guy!

Anyways, I won and that means that I have an entire three days with the blog to myself! So, if you have any questions to ask me, now would be the time to do so ;)

...

Oh crud, the ask…

Whoops, this is actually a little harder than Jin makes it out to be. I got a bit sidetracked, Anon. Sorry! I’ll answer now:

So, it's a yes and a no in the mobility department. Yes, I’m way less fit than I used to be, but no I’m still just as mobile :’(

I may get more tired out doing things, but not to the point of actual difficulty. So sad. Even after gaining nearly 50 pounds and switching to a completely sedentary lifestyle, I only get out of breath when pushing myself.

You might recall that one video Jin posted a bit back with me in it? Yeah, that’s still how I am. Medium/low stamina, high horny.

Since it’s been a month though, I’ll attach a quick mirror selfie. Just for you anon ;)

-

A picture had been embedded into the post’s body. It was an image taken of Jungkook standing in his room holding his phone in front of his chest. The youngest’s face seemed a touch rounder than it was in the last video. His neck too, as if all the dips and crevices had filled in more over the past month.

The hands holding his phone had gotten the same treatment it seemed, as although they were the same size, the bumps and veins usually present had softened. Behind his hands, Jungkook’s chest protruded slightly more than before. His tiny starter breasts from the video were replaced with real moobs this time. Pointed and plump, they drooped slightly as if drawn towards the main attraction. His belly.

It seemed to have divided itself into two sections, none too large, just more than enough to preview where he’ll fill out in the coming months. The bottom section itself was cut in two by the black elastic of Jungkook’s dark blue boxers, the fabric covered pudge meeting his hips to form a delicious spare tire. Trapped by what was had to once be loose fabric, Jungkook’s ass bloomed full, thighs stuffed.

In the background of the room, empty bottles of soda, candy wrappers and DVD cases littered the ground. A large comfortable looking bed was shown off to the side of the image, a cozy purple comforter peeled back to reveal soft black sheets.

-

For the second part of you’re question, I weigh 197 pounds last we checked. Nearly at my first goal of 200! Exciting right?

I eat well, of course! I’m honestly completely stuffed 100% of the time, even in the middle of the night! I have an alarm that wakes me up so that I can have a few snacks (okay, a lot of snacks) before brushing my teeth and going back to sleep. My sleep cycle isn't the best, but it does help me stay lazy with naps during the day ;)

Anyway, that was super fun! Feel free to ask me more questions and I’ll do my best to answer ^_^

#lavender//ask #lavender//jungkook

[theincompetentdesi]

Things I do differently for my senior fiv+ cat -

Food

1. Have one kind of food that is consistent (Royal canin weight care, wet food) - this prevents weight gain which is a problem for any cat, but even more so for senior and/or immunocompromised cats

2. Constantly switch up the other kind of wet food to prevent the flare-up of any allergies

3. Have one premium quality dry food to serve as a snack (Royal canin sterilized 7+, dry food)

Hygiene

4. Clean my cat's ears frequently. I use a cotton ball on a pair of forceps to do it. If you can afford it, use a natural ingredient - based cleaner (I use tea tree oil based ear cleaner). If you cannot, tap water or saline is fine. Immunocompromised cats are at higher risk for infections, and I've found that most of these infections are either in the ears or in the upper respiratory tract.

5. Clean the litterbox thoroughly every 2 weeks and leave it under the sun for a little bit. If you can afford it, fill it up with fresh litter. If you cannot, just preserve the old litter in a cardboard box and fill it back up when the litterbox is dry.

6. "Bathe" my cat using a wet sponge soaked in hot water every once in a while. This is completely optional, depending on how good your cat is at grooming. Mine slacks off sometimes and he also enjoys supervised outdoor time, which gets him dirty.

7. Maintain dental hygiene. Dental diseases are also common in fiv+ cats so brush those teeth frequently if you're able to, otherwise make those dental cleaning appointments.

Supplements

8. I supplement his diet with 1mL of Immunol (herbal immunomodulator) on days when the air quality is low. Upper respiratory infections are common in fiv+ cats and you want your cat to have some assistance fighting them.

9. Treats - you laugh but this is serious. You can only care for your cat if there's a bond between the two of you. Treats help strengthen your bond.

#fiv #FIV cat #cat #cats #care #immunocompromised #senior #veterinarian

[thelifeoflorna]

~11/7/2022~ No idea what these posts are going to look like for the next week as I'm barely functioning. It was a very slow start as my body already felt worn out from the heat from the moment I got up. Even H said I looked awful lol, which I didn't mind! Once I'd got ready she drove me down to the beach, where it was much cooler. We had a short walk, and then some lunch in the café - I wasn't able to tolerate much food, but did better than I thought, and ice cream seems to be a good call atm. We stopped by at Pets At Home on the way back - they still don't have the cat litter we use in stock :/ I had a rest for an hour in the darkened pit that is my flat, before heading back out in the heat to appointment with AKA - the walk there was a killer. I didn't feel very awake/alive during the appointment - I didn't feel like AKA really got the things I was upset about, but then I was finding it hard to explain so... Walk home was slightly better, but completely flopped when I got home for a few hours. Despite having multiple cold showers throughout the day - I seem to go hot again in no time at all, and it got to the point where I couldn't move or function - didn't even really look at my phone :( Brain has been slightly better for the past couple of hours so tried to catch up on some stuff on my laptop - am thinking I'm prob going to cancel a peer support appointment tomorrow, which I never like to do, but it's f2f and a fair distance away - could switch to virtual but I don't even think I can manage that :/ Going to have last cold shower of the day then attempt to go to bed... 🦄 #instadaily #instablog #update #mentalhealth #dissociativeidentitydisorder #cptsd #autism #traumarecovery #edrecovery #anxiety #chronicillness #disability #pots #potsie #dysautonomia #positivevibes #recovery #eastgrinstead #cottagecore #tudor #tudorhouse #cottagecoreaesthetic #quaint #quintessentiallyenglish #walking #englishheritage #heatintolerance #meltingaway (at East Grinstead) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cf40TaDqM3eN3JBDzPkf7hk-iaQa4B5IcMvY980/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#instadaily #instablog #update #mentalhealth #dissociativeidentitydisorder #cptsd #autism #traumarecovery #edrecovery #anxiety #chronicillness #disability #pots #potsie #dysautonomia #positivevibes #recovery #eastgrinstead #cottagecore #tudor #tudorhouse #cottagecoreaesthetic #quaint #quintessentiallyenglish #walking #englishheritage #heatintolerance #meltingaway

[notanotherreidgirl]

ok so imagine that u and virgin!baby boy Reid are roommates (you share an apartment and ur rooms are right next to eachother) and he can always hear u moan every night that you play with yourself, but he feels to guilty to do anything about his little ‘problem’. and suddenly one night he’s like super horny and jerks off, not knowing that you’re awake and can hear everything. you try to drown him out until you hear him moan your name, so you go to his room and slowly open the door so he doesn’t hear you and when he feels you on the bed he’s super apologetic but you’re like “it’s okay baby boy😏” and he’s like “please mommy let me make you feel good🥺” and even though its his first time hes so good and when you let him fuck you hes so whiny and needy 😩😩😩😩

We Shouldn't

Warnings: loss of virginity, masturbating, handjob, oral sex (male receiving), perv!spence, sub!spence, mommy kink, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie

Word Count: 1444

A/N: I embellished a bit - apologies

Spencer made life or death decisions nearly every day. He had to carefully craft his words when talking down unsubs and be able to assess dangerous situations in seconds to decide whether or not to shoot someone but now, when faced with a relatively simple choice, he was completely stumped. He had been rooted to the spot for nearly 20 minutes, unable to process the sight before him.

In his defense, Spencer had very little experience with women’s underwear and certainly no experience with something like the lacy little number you had left in the dryer. At this point, he had spent so much time staring at you that he knew without a doubt that they were yours. He also knew that he most definitely should not be picking them up right now or putting them in his pocket or running out of the laundry room and back to his apartment without putting his clothes to dry. And he most definitely should not be stashing your panties in his bedside table. But, alas, should not is not the same as did not.

For example, he should not watch you from his window when you went off on your morning run clad in running shorts and a tank top. He also should not linger behind you in the stairwell, eyes glued to your ass as you bounded up the stairs. And he certainly should not listen to you get yourself off at night but he did, even going as far as to take down his framed map and press his ear up against the wall. Spencer’s only saving grace was that thus far he had managed not to touch himself thinking of you, the overwhelming guilt forcing him to take a cold shower instead. But tonight was different. Tonight the panties in his bedside table were beckoning him as he ate leftover takeout, calling his name as leafed through books he’d already memorized, burning a hole through the wooden drawer as he slipped under the covers and listened for you on the other side of the wall.

There’s no harm in just holding them, he reasoned. The next thing he knew the panties were out of the drawer and in his hand and his pants had somehow slipped to mid-thigh in the process. This could be fine. I’ll find a way to give them back tomorrow and no one will know.

And maybe, just maybe, if Spencer was a man of more restraint he would’ve gotten away with it but he was not. He could hear you getting ready for bed, singing quietly to yourself. It was oddly intoxicating to know that you were going about your business, completely unaware of him and convinced that you were operating within the privacy of your own home.

Except you weren’t ignorant of your next door neighbor. Thin walls worked both ways and you could hear his soft moans reverberating into your own bedroom. You sang a little louder to drown him out, guilt eclipsing your excitement. You had often wondered about the young doctor next door - always coming and going at odd hours, never meeting your eyes or bringing anyone back to his for the night. He was so nervous around you, it made you wonder if he’d ever been with a woman but you shook the thought from your head. I should not be thinking about my neighbor’s sex life or lack thereof.

Just as you resolved to go in the kitchen and leave him in peace you heard it. It was unmistakable. You stilled listening intently, half-convinced your imagination was playing tricks on you as it often did. But there it was again clear as day. “Fuck, Y/N”

You were an overthinker, always going over your options rationally and hardly ever comfortable with making spur of the moment decisions. But you were out of your apartment in seconds, using the spare key he had nervously entrusted you with weeks ago to slip into his place. A little voice in your head tried in vain to talk sense into you. You should not be breaking into an FBI agent’s apartment.

If only should not was the same as did not.

He had his back to you and you took the opportunity to perch yourself on the edge of his bed, the shift in the mattress finally alerting him to your presence. He whirled around in alarm and instinctively tried to hide himself and the stolen underwear, already soaked in precum and wrapped around his erection. You tilted your head slightly, trying your best to hide a smirk. “I thought I heard you calling for me”

“I-no-I can explain,” he flushed a deep scarlet, his futile attempts to conceal his predicament were only making it worse and there was no way he could come up with a plausible explanation with your eyes on him. The panic rising in his chest swelled - the feeling that he had ruined everything starting to trigger an overwhelming urge to cry. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry”

You softened your gaze, reaching out to place a reassuring hand on his thigh. “It’s ok, baby boy”

Just then, something changed. A switch flipped, a light came on, a natural dynamic fell into place. Very gently you took his hand, forcing him to uncover himself.

“Wouldn’t you rather the real thing?” With that you trailed his hand up your thigh and to your soaked core, letting him skim his fingers over the wetness between your legs and take in the notable lack of panties.

“I-uh-yes, but-” he stopped for a moment, searching deep within himself for a shred of courage before blurting out the rest. “I’m a virgin”

Much to his surprise, you didn’t even bat an eye, instead, you sunk down on your knees and ran your hands up his thighs. “Well then, we’d better make this extra special”

You replaced his hands, taking hold of his cock over the panties and setting in with a deliberate pace before running your tongue over his balls. You toyed with the soft flesh until you felt his thighs tremble and the whimpers he had been trying to suppress spilled from his lips. Once you were certain he had abandoned any sense of restraint you started to suck on his balls, relentlessly pulling him into your mouth and teasing him with your tongue. At this point he was incomprehensible, any words he might have said being carried away by the sobs working their way up his throat and the tears streaming down his face. Just when you were sure he’d come you retreated, pressing sloppy kisses down his thighs and removing your hands from his cock.

He whined. “Please, Mommy. Let me make you feel good.”

You pushed yourself up and into his lap, taking your shirt off in the process and cradling his face in your hands. “You think you can make Mommy come?”

He nodded into your chest, capturing a nipple into his mouth and instinctively sucking on it. You guided his hands to your waist and you lined yourself up with his tip, slowly sinking down and adjusting to his size. He gripped your waist tightly, willing himself not to come as he watched himself disappear into you. “All right then, let’s see if you can be a good boy.”

Spencer sprang into action, taking hold and bouncing you on his cock as he rutted into you. Simultaneously he continued to latch onto your breasts, littering your chest with marks. You dug your nails into his shoulders, feeling the tide of your release start to sweep you away. “Yes, just like that, baby. You’re being so good for me. So fucking good. My good boy.”

Just before you reached your peak, you threaded a hand in Spencer's hair and pulled him up to look at you. Those big brown eyes stared up at you, pupils dilated and vision hazy with lust. “I want you to come with me, baby. Right now.”

It was like nothing you had ever felt before, pure euphoria coursing through your veins and only amplifying when Spencer flooded you with his warm release. He gave a few more shallow thrusts, whimpering from the overstimulation before the two of you collapsed back onto the bed. You shifted slightly so you could hold him in your arms without separating, brushing his hair back behind his ear as he buried his face into your neck, now overcome with embarrassment over his actions. “I’m sorry, Mommy. I shouldn’t have taken your panties”

You tightened your embrace and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “It’s ok, darling. I’m glad you did.”

---

Taglist: @thatsonezesty13 @rosienie @newyorkaqua @coldlilheart @spencerreider @newgirlinhell @ssa-natalya-reid @lauryn-need-help @spencerscumrag @gublerzwhore @beepbooptoop @stylesstreet @zoeygraygubler @deiondraaa​ @Nct-nyny @optimisticcloudmoon @centiaaa​ @ifvckedurmom @6r4cie @dontcallmekittens​ @subbyspencereid​ @kuolonsyoja​ @reid-me-a-story​ @spencerreidsmommy @aharvey979​ @lunajoyce3 @kaz_2y567​​ @mystical-and-modern-marauder @marrymespencerrei @idk @blayneve @heymxparker @crypticcorvidinacottage @youabitchhhh @samaraaaaa @spencerreid-mgg @woodstock-14 @eatourart @everyonesfavoritepipecleaner @iilwsr @indigotheshyboy @whytf2457 @spencerreid-187 @spencerreidsmommy @ready-for-spencie

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#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid smut #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #mommy kink collection #my beloved sub!spence with a mommy kink #sub!spencer #unsuitable for work

[itllsetyoufree]

“Does this help?” + kara being injured

All things considered, Lena’s Saturday has been startlingly unremarkable so far. The sun is shining, she’d had her usual cup of yogurt with sliced bananas for breakfast, she hasn’t gotten a single off-hours weekend call from work, and she’d even had time to read the Cooking section in the National City Tribune. The biggest thing on her calendar for the day is her weekly movie night with Kara, which she’d been quietly looking forward to since Kara had left her apartment after their movie night the week before.

There was a time in Lena’s life where the easy, almost leisurely flow of her day would have been alarmingly, disarmingly suspect. But with no attempts on her life and L-Corp running smoothly for the last year or so, Lena’s life has settled into something more… quiet. 

And on any other day, it might have continued that way. 

Because noxious gas-breathing, nine-legged alien dragons aren’t typically her problem.

She gets the notification on her phone, of course:

Emergency Alert: Rogue Alien Attacking National City Waterfront— alien is violent and unrestrained, exhales unidentified purple gas. Residents urged to remain indoors and to close all windows.

Lena sighs, rolling her neck to the side and grabbing her phone as she lifts herself off her couch to close her balcony door. Despite having a near-panoramic view of the water, Lena’s apartment is on the other side of town from the docks, but she winds her way around her apartment anyway and closes all of her windows just in case. She’s just shutting the last one when she fires off a text to Kara, telling her to stay inside and to not come over until the alien is taken care of, and don’t even think about going down to the docks to report on it, Kara, I know CatCo doesn’t have gas masks on hand.

She gets a single thumbs up in response, an unusually terse reply from Kara, who never sends one text message when three will do, but Lena doesn’t think much of it and just settles back down on the couch to flip on the news. 

She watches live as the alien positively obliterates several of National City’s piers with three of its arms. The video feed shows people diving out of the way as wet, splintered wood flies in every direction. The esplanade is littered with debris as the alien rears up again, swinging its tail against the surface of the bay and spraying rolling waves of water onto the shore. 

Lena blows out a heavy breath as she watches the destruction unfold before reaching out for her phone again. She’s just hitting send on an email to Jess, telling her to donate funds to the city to rebuild the docks, when the unmitigated panic on screen abruptly stops. 

She sits up straight on the couch as she watches the dragon puff out a billowing cloud of purple smoke. It unfurls along the embankment and the remaining parts of the boardwalk, and slowly engulfs the small crowd of people fleeing the waterfront and the remaining stragglers on the shoreline.

Lena watches, mouth parting in shock, as they all stop running en masse and slow to a halt. The newsfeed goes silent as the crowd stops screaming, even the newscaster losing his breath as everyone stands still, lolling around on their feet as if held up by rubber and not muscle, before they all calmly sink down to the ground and lay down. 

The sweeping shot of everyone resting on the ground seems to spur the news anchor back to life, and he resumes narrating wildly, jabbering and speculating like an auctioneer calling the Superbowl. 

The dragon stops destroying more of the docks to huff out another cloud of smoke at a helicopter nearby. Lena sucks in a breath as the helicopter wobbles in the air over the people on the ground, but it just floats softly down, landing gentle as a feather on the nearest open patch of grass. Lena pinches her eyebrows together, bewildered, but before she can think too much on it, there’s a red and blue streak zooming into the frame. 

Supergirl pulls up behind the dragon, and Lena only has a second to admire the sun glinting off her hair before Supergirl grabs the alien by one of its legs and flings it out toward the sea. 

From there it’s a whirlwind. Supergirl and the alien lunge and splash and swing at each other at a dizzying speed, spinning in the air and dragging each other under the water. The camera holds steady on them for several minutes until one final breathtaking moment. Both Supergirl and the alien breach out of the water and whirl to face one another. Supergirl’s eyes glow for a split second before her heat vision activates and scorches across the dragon’s abdomen. It crashes back to the water with a roar, but just before it sinks beneath the surface, it huffs out one final breath of smoke. 

It catches Supergirl visibly off-guard as she recovers from the fight, gasping for air just as it engulfs her. The newscaster goes silent once more, watching as Supergirl seems to go loose mid-air. She sways a little, drifting in the wind, a glassy, confused look on her face. Lena’s reaching for her phone, ready to call Alex to see if she can help, when Supergirl shakes her head and starts to fly, slowly and unsteadily, away from the scene. 

The newscaster and Lena heave a simultaneous sigh of relief, and Lena lets her phone drop back down to the couch. The news switches back to coverage of the dazed, lethargic people on the shore who seem confused but otherwise unharmed. Lena’s just relaxing back into the cushions, half a mind to open her windows back up to let in the breeze, when she catches movement out of the corner of her eye. 

She turns, watching as Supergirl floats shakily toward her balcony. 

When Supergirl lands, it’s with none of the elegance or athleticism Lena’s come to associate with her. There’s no graceful descent, no landing delicately on one pointed foot or shooting down from the sky to stop on a dime just before she hits the ground. Supergirl drifts closer and closer to her building, one foot outstretched as she reaches Lena’s balcony, but her foot catches on the top of the railing, and she topples over it, hands splayed out to catch herself. She spills over the banister and lands on her chest, legs arching up behind her and feet still hooked over the railing. She looks up at Lena through the glass window, eyes half glazed over and unfocused as her cape slides up the slope of her back to pool at the back of her neck. 

The sight of her, glassy and dazed and draped over her railing like a wet towel spurs Lena into action. She throws the balcony door open and rushes over, dropping to her knees and reaching out to run her hands down the length of Supergirl’s arms, cupping her cheeks and tilting her head to either side to look for bruises. 

“Supergirl! Are you hurt? Can you stand? Come, let’s get you to the DEO.” 

“Hi.” 

Lena stills, pausing her frantic checking of Supergirl’s pulse to actually take stock of the situation. 

Supergirl, seemingly unconcerned by her chin pressing into the concrete or being curled backwards over herself, blinks up at Lena. She looks untroubled, calm, her hair and suit still damp from the water but otherwise right as rain, but the expression on her face is… vacant. Her eyes are glossy, just slightly unfocused, mouth parted as she looks up at Lena. She looks open, unguarded, and completely unaware, and Lena recalibrates. 

“Supergirl, do you know where you are?”

“Your balcony.”

“And do you know who I am?”

“Lena.”

“Does anything hurt?”

“No.” 

“Can you untangle your feet so we can get you up?”

“Oh,” Supergirl remarks, like she hadn’t noticed her feet weren’t under her. She tries to twist around to look over her back at her feet, and she shuffles a little, unhooking the toes of her boots and falling fully onto the stone floor. 

Lena tsks and instinctually reaches out again, grabbing hold of Supergirl’s shoulders and helping her move until she’s sitting upright, propped against the balcony railing. Supergirl leans back against it, blinking slowly and looking blankly around, and Lena finds herself itching for the phone she left in the living room but unwilling to leave the woman in front of her while she’s so vulnerable. 

It isn’t like she hasn’t dealt with an incapacitated Supergirl before. Lena’s saved Supergirl from more than a handful of scrapes in the past couple years, but never like this, never while she was conscious, never while she seemed loopy and almost childlike. It’s easier to maintain her focus, Lena realizes, easier to put the worry aside and work on a fix when Supergirl is in grave danger, in desperate need of help. 

This, with her awake and seemingly fine but so disoriented is throwing Lena off guard. Normal citizens shouldn’t see their city’s hero downed and unconscious, but they shouldn’t see her like this either, unfocused and confused, almost as if she’d been drugged. It’s unsettling, deeply uncomfortable in a way Lena can’t put her finger on, and she can’t help but feel both protective and out of her element at the same time.

“Okay,” Lena says, keeping her voice soft and caring. “How about we get you over to the DEO so they can check you out?”

“No, thanks,” comes the quiet reply. “I’ll stay here.”

It’s Lena’s turn to blink confusedly back at Supergirl, but the woman is looking elsewhere. The soft breeze that’s been blowing all day blows an errant leaf off of one of Lena’s plants and into Supergirl’s lap, and Lena watches, latent sense of panic beginning to grow in her stomach, as Supergirl picks up the leaf and twirls it between her fingers.

“I really think we should get you over to the DEO. You seem a little… off,” Lena says, careful to phrase it as gently as she can to not cause any alarm. “What if I just have Director Danvers come here by herself?” Lena asks, half unsure why she’s humoring Supergirl before she realizes that Supergirl has probably never gone anywhere she didn’t want to go— on account of being strong enough to lift a space station. 

“No,” Supergirl responds again, simply, not rudely, “she’s not invited.”

Lena narrows her eyes at that, trying to sort out what kind of laughing gas this dragon has breathed out. 

“I think I’m in charge of that,” Lena retorts, but she sighs, because Supergirl just looks up at her and smiles dopily. 

“Okay,” Lena tries again. “Will you at least stand up and come inside? I can do some research on how to get these side effects to go away.” 

Supergirl acquiesces this time, or at least Lena thinks she does until Supergirl turns away from the open door to her living room. 

“I’ll stay out here,” she says, words slurring a little as she points to one of Lena’s deck chairs. “Need a little sun.” 

She sways on the spot, as if momentarily suspended by the breeze, before stumbling over to Lena’s deck chair and collapsing onto it. She trips on one of the legs and the chair breaks under her weight, but she doesn’t seem to notice, letting her eyes drift shut and tilting her chin up toward the sun. A small smile crosses her face as the sun warms her, and Lena finds herself unable to hold back a small smile of her own. 

“You’ve got twenty minutes,” Lena says, already planning out her research on alien dragons and a call to Alex in her head. “Then I’m making the call.” 

“Uh uh,” Supergirl hums, eyes still closed, and Lena raises both eyebrows. “Is’fine, Lena. Don’t call. Wanted to come here.”

The longer sentences are starting to ease Lena’s mind, but Supergirl’s response rattles around in her brain and she can’t help but ask.

“Supergirl?”

Supergirl just hums back at her again.

“Why’d you come here instead of going to the DEO?”

“Didn’t want to miss movie night,” she says, calmly while she exhales, like Lena had asked her what day it is and she’d said, ‘Saturday.’

Lena freezes. The pit of panic in her stomach drops out and her whole body clenches at the loss. She stands frozen, staring at the figure laying prone, sprawled out on her deck chair. Lena’s heart pounds. She feels the rapid thudding in her chest, hears it reverberate in her ears. She takes it in, the red boots and skirt, the blue suit, the cape, the blonde hair. 

Her eyes map the features on Supergirl’s face, and she realizes with some modicum of horror how familiar those features are. The point of her chin, the slope of her cheekbones, the nick of the scar above her eyebrow, the slightly upturned, charming pull of her mouth. It’s all— 

“Lena?” those eyebrows scrunch together and it comes out as a whine, and Lena is overcome. 

The panic disappears, instantly replaced by a tidal wave of worry, of affection, of bewilderment, confusion, and a little hurt.

“I’m here,” is what she blurts out in response, dropping onto the adjacent chair and wrapping her hand around Supergirl’s— Kara’s?— wrist, gentle, caring. “Hey, hey, I’m here. Are you okay?”

“Mhmm” Supergirl hums again, twisting her wrist to take hold of Lena’s hand. “Better already. Just need a nap and then we can watch a movie, okay?” Her voice is light and airy, and the smile droops off her face as she begins to fall asleep, but Lena can’t let her go, can’t be left alone with her racing mind. She needs to know, needs to be sure, and with a pounding heart, she presses on.

“Have—” Lena starts. Her voice cracks and she clears her throat and tries again, wiping the hand not enclosed in Supergirl’s tiredly across her brow. “Have you thought about what movie you want to see?”

“Which Star Wars are we up to?” Supergirl mumbles, half-asleep, and Lena feels her whole body clench with the confirmation as she sweeps her eyes up and down the figure in front of her with renewed worry, checking for injuries she knows aren’t there, because it’s Kara, it’s Kara, it’s Kara.

“Episode Six,” she whispers, tightening her hand around Kara’s. 

“That one. ‘S a good one.” Kara breathes back. 

Kara shifts on the chair a little bit, and small as the movement is, Lena thinks it looks the tiniest more purposeful, the tiniest bit less loose and floppy, and Lena feels her shoulders relax with it. It shifts something in her, the worry beginning to melt into a tender form of annoyance and she decides to push a little more. 

“Are you hungry?”

“Mm,” Kara hums, smiling again. Lena narrows her eyes at her. 

“Do you want Big Belly Burger for dinner like last time?”

“Mhmm yeah,” Kara murmurs, “and those fries that I like.”

Lena smirks, raising an eyebrow, but Kara is completely unaware. Lena squeezes her hand and stands. “I’ll order the food, and you can nap until it gets here, okay?”

“Mhmm thanks, Lena.”

“You’re welcome, Kara,” she says pointedly, but Kara doesn’t notice. Lena watches her smile in her half-asleep doze, her hand twitching a little until the smile droops off her face and she falls asleep just like that. Lena stands there, gaping at her for a moment, then makes her way inside.

Twenty minutes later, after a text to Alex and enough time spent slowing her racing heart, enough time spent with the news to know that the gas wears off on its own, eventually, she hears a sigh and a creak from outside. Supergirl— Kara, god, it’s Kara— is stretching on the deck chair, which appears to be hanging on for dear life, and Lena lifts herself off the couch, grabbing the bag next to her and making her way back outside.

She sets a glass of water down on the drinks table next to Kara’s head, watching as she shifts in the sun but doesn’t open her eyes. 

“How are you feeling, Supergirl?”

“Mhmm, good, sleepy,” Kara yawns.

“They pulled that dragon out of the bay,” Lena says casually, crossing her arms. “You did a great job. No one’s hurt. The effects of the gas seem to subside on their own.”

“Good,” Kara murmurs, tilting her head up into the sun again. “That’s good.” 

“The food’s here too,” Lena informs her, unable to hold back a smirk. “I got us a couple shakes as well.”

“Thanks,” Kara sighs happily. You’re the best.”

“But Kara?”

“Mmph?”

“You have to change out of your suit first. Wouldn’t want to get any residual alien goop on my couch.”

It’s exactly as satisfying as she thought it would be. Kara’s loose, floppy posture stiffens as her spine snaps straight, her eyes flying open as the chair finally gives out from under her. Lena watches the wheels turn once Kara hits the ground, sees Kara’s eyes bug out when they make eye contact. Kara’s flick down to look at her suit, then back up to Lena. 

Lena twists her wrist, letting the paper bag swing out toward Kara. 

“Your fries?”

#when you haven't been able to write a word for months and are struck by this feral fever dream of a thing #and when you misremember the line in the prompt as being 'can i help you?' #and then don't include it anyway #OOPS #btc you're a hero as always <3 #fic tag #anonymous #ask box