#be careful be safe and please check your cabinets just in case!

[citysunrise]

there is apparently a recall on General Mills flour right now; the recalled batches all expire on March 27 or 28th of 2024, and include the 5 and 10 pounds bags of unbleached flour, and the 2 and 5 pound bags of bleached flour.

#flour #baking #food recalls #food safety #be careful be safe and please check your cabinets just in case! #the recall is apparently nationwide for the US #I can't find anything that says whether or not this impacts any flour the company sells outside of the US

[topgun-imagines]

Pain Meds 

Requested: yes 

Summary: After an incident during training you put your husband on bed rest until he feels better. The only problem is that the painkillers hurt his stomach. 

Word count: 1.3k 

Warnings: Mentions of death. Mentions of plane crashes. Wounds. Stitches. Pills. 

Pairings: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x wife!reader

“No,” Bradley’s face was hard and impassive. You sighed. Your husband had been refusing to take his pain medication for over an hour now. A few weeks ago, Bradley had entered a flat spin. You weren’t cleared to know exactly everything that had happened but from what you had been told you knew that something had malfunctioned, causing the engine to stall which resulted in your husband entering a flat spin. The ejection had been hard; the terrain was rough and unrelenting which caused Bradley more than a few injuries. Safe to say, you were horrified. You knew about how his father died and imagining how Bradley must have been feeling in that moment broke your heart. He had been cleared from medical care a few days ago but was still on leave to give himself time to fully recover. You had put him on bed rest the second he walked through the door. Your eyes focused on Bradley again. Every now and then, you could tell when a certain move caused a jolt of pain to run through him. Yet he still refused to take his damn medication. 

You let out a sigh. “Bradley please,” Practically begging him at this point, you held out the pill bottle once more. It was still mostly full after nearly a week of what was supposed to be two pills a day. “I just want you to feel better.” It killed you to see the pain that your husband was in. Knowing that he had an opportunity to help himself, to relieve the pain that he was in but refused to take it bewildered you. He sat in front of you silently, refusing to meet your eyes. With a sigh, you stood up. You set the pill bottle on the coffee table in front of his before moving to walk back into the kitchen 

Bradley let out a dejected sigh. “Wait,” He called softly, halting you in your spot. You turned back to face him. His eyes were cast down onto the floor. “It’s not that I don’t want to take them,” He started softly. You made your way toward him and sat down. Taking his hand in yours, you squeezed it softly. His eyes drifted up to yours. “They make my stomach hurt,” He practically whined. Hearing that come from a grown man made you chuckle slightly. When Bradley heard your soft giggles his head snapped back up to you. “Hey!” Your husband was pouting now.

Your laughter slowly died down as he tried to disguise his amusement in a glare.  “I’m sorry, baby,” Setting your hand on his cheek, you rubbed your thumb over his cheek, brushing over the corner of his mustache. When he continued to pout you rolled your eyes fondly. You could never deny his puppy dog eyes. “I’ll see what I can do.” He smiled widely at you. With one final kiss pressed to his forehead, you stood from the couch and headed into the kitchen. You knew Bradley got stomachaches easily and you had picked up on a few things that he appreciated. 

Opening the medicine cabinet you groaned quietly. You were all out of the one kind of medicine that Bradley preferred. It was the only kind that ever seemed to work for him. You checked the fridge quickly to see if there was any Ginger Ale, another thing that was perfect for both you and Bradley. To your surprise, there was none. You could have sworn you bought a case the other day. With a sigh, you plucked your keys off the counter and headed back to the living room. 

“I’m gonna run to the store,” You called, slipping your shoes on. When Bradley didn’t respond you grew curious. He wasn’t ignoring you, was he? “Brad?” You spoke softly. Heading back to where your husband was on the couch, your heart melted at the sight in front of you. Bradley was asleep, arms crossed under the pillow and lips parted as he snored softly. With a small smile, you adjusted the thin blanket wrapped haphazardly around his waist before kissing his temple. 

With Bradley asleep, you decided that you would walk over to the store. It wasn’t that far, plus it gave your husband some extra piece and quiet. You slipped out of the house quietly, beginning the five-minute walk. You and Bradley had decided to buy a house in Miramar for the time being. After the Uranium Mission, the higher up’s decided that the Dagger Squad would remain as a permanent detachment. Maverick had essentially moved in with Penny at this point and many of the other members had purchased homes around the base. Your home was in the perfect location; not too far from the Hard Deck, the base, and everyone else’s home. 

You stepped into the cool air conditioning of the store and immediately headed over to the medication isles. It was a relatively small store, but seeing as it was on a Navy base it was stocked with an abundance of painkillers. After a quick scan of the shelves your eyes landed on the pills you were looking for. Grabbing the box, you picked up a pack of Ginger Ale before heading to the till. You smile at the cashier as you paid, grasping the bag that she handed you before heading back towards your house. 

When you returned home, you found Bradley in the same state that you left him in, mouth hung open as snores poured freely from it. You shook your head fondly before moving past him to the kitchen. You poured one of the cans into a glass before grabbing two of the painkillers. 

Back in the living room, Bradley was beginning to stir. He had always been a light sleeper, his years in the Navy making it very easy to wake him up. “Bradley,” You hummed softly, setting the glass on the table and running your hand through his honey curls. A small grunt was all you got in response. “Brad, baby, I’ve got something for you,” You watched as his eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks softly. He groaned as he sat up, wincing due to his stitches. It hurt you to see him in this much pain. “Here babe.” You spoke softly. Bradley brought a hand up to wipe the sleep from his eyes. He took the pills from you gratefully, sipping on the Ginger Ale to help swallow them.  

Once the pills were down, your husband wound his arm around you and pulled you into his chest softly. You tried not to lean into him too much, wary of his healing wounds. The steady beating of his heart under your ear calmed you slightly. He was alive. He would be fine. His hand began rubbing soothing circles on your back as he guided the pair of you to lie down on the couch. Your eyes slowly shut. A scent that was entirely Bradley filled you. Above you, Bradley was messing with the television remote, trying to turn on a random movie to play in the background. Once one was picked, his hands returned to the small of your back. “What would I do without you, pretty girl?” He whispered into your hair. Bradley pressed a light kiss to your temple. 

You grinned and laughed quietly. “You’re lucky you never have to find out,” All you heard in response was Bradley’s soft hum. Slowly, your hands dipped below the seam of the T-shirt he was wearing. You began tracing over the edges of the forming scars softly. Snuggling further into him, you pressed a kiss to the center of his chest. “I love you, Bradley.” 

One of his hands squeezed your hip softly. “I love you, too, baby girl.”

a/n: Thank you for reading! Requests are open. 

#rooster #rooster fic #bradley rooster bradshaw fic #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #rooster x wife!reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fic #nick bradshaw x reader #rooster fanfic #rooster bradshaw fic #rooster fluff #rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #top gun #top gun maverick #top gun fluff #miles teller

[spacecowboyhotch]

hi my love, here again for 🧑‍🚒 : helping their lover out of their clothes and into their pajamas/washing off makeup and taking their hair down after a night of drinking. gn/fem either works :)

<333 thank you bestie love you 😚

Content

pairing: gn!reader (but reader wears a ponytail) x law school!aaron hotchner

prompt: helping their lover out of their clothes and into their pajamas/washing off makeup and taking their hair down after a night of drinking

contents: just a shit ton of fluff, love confessions, alcohol mention

an: megggggg, i can’t say how much i love you bc the words don’t exist, thank you for supporting me in everything <33

word count: 600ish

join my celebration here! 🔥

Aaron’s staying late at the library, pouring over a case study when he gets a call from you. He knows that you were going out tonight, he’d been checking in on you periodically.

“Hi angel, you alright?”

“Yes, I just, um, can you come get me?” Your words are slurred but you sound happy, excited even.

“Of course,” He immediately starts to back up his things. You’d already sent him the address of the bar as a safety precaution. “Are you safe?”

“Yes, baby, I’m just tired and drunk and miss you.”

“I miss you, too. I’ll be there soon.”

Aaron parks on the street across from the bar, spotting you as he gets out of his jeep. Your friend, Ollie has his arm around your waist and the two of you lean against the brick wall of the building. Your eyes are closed but your lips are upturned in a smile. Ollie sees him first, nudges you and whispers something into your ear. Your eyes immediately open, and you plant a kiss on his cheek before running to Aaron.

You’re not very coordinated given your intoxication and he starts to jog himself, catching you when you stumble, “Not a good idea to run while drunk, yeah?”

You grin up at him before giving him a peck on the lips, “Yeah, not a good idea but I told you, I missed you.”

“Well let’s get home and you won’t have to miss me anymore.” He wraps his arm around you, waving to Ollie before guiding you to the car.

The drive to his apartment is short, and he keeps the windows down on this warm summer night. He glances over at you, his chest swelling with adoration as he watches you lift your face to the wind. Once at his apartment, you’re quiet, feeling content as he helps you up the stairs.

“Shower?” He asks once inside.

“No, bed, please,” You reply as he leads you into the kitchen. You lean up against the counter as he fills a glass with water.

“Alright, drink up for me first, please.”

You follow his instructions and once done you let him lead you into his bathroom. He sits you down on the toilet, and finds the toiletries bag you leave at his apartment. Delicately he gets your hair out of the ponytail that you’d put it in, taking out the bobby-pins as well. He moves on to washing your face, his moments slow, unhurried as he gets your face nice and soapy before wiping it clean with a fresh towel. When you’re nice and dry he applies your moisturizer then leans in, treating you to a sweet kiss that you readily return. He couldn’t help himself, you look so soft as he takes care of you, and soon he’s taking you into his bedroom.

“I love you,” You sigh as you fall back into the bed when he sits you down.

Aaron, who’s turned to open your designated drawer to find your pajamas freezes in his tracks. It’s the first time you’ve ever said that to him and when turns around to say it back to you, you’re already sleeping. He smiles to himself as he gets you dressed in your pajamas, and afterwards he gets dressed in his own. Returning to the kitchen, he fills up another glass of water and stops by the medicine cabinet for some ibuprofen and sets them on the bedside table.

“I love you, too,” He murmurs into your hair once he gets settled in bed with you. He’ll make sure to tell you again in the morning.

#light of my life meg 🌻 #aaron hotchner x gn!reader #aaron hotchner x reader #arson’s dumpster fire celebration #celebration blurbs #replies

[the-elevator-twins]

>[The doll calls, even as Neil brings it outside. The ever-present violent urges are still there, but no anger is felt. It still likes Neil.]

>[The urges only intensify around the two, and the voices start muttering things. "Day 15", you're almost at that point, everything has played out the same as that notebook, other than the recovery of the second doll, and the fact that this doll carries no resentment toward you. It never mentioned the feelings of the doll liking that man... but those images... were they real? Or delusion? The last pages, scrawled in hatchy lettering, mutterings of nonsense. Were they purely his crumbling mind? Or was there something direct happening to him?]

>[Neil will have to find out. But... there's definitely something he's noticing right now... as his insides feel like they're beginning to claw deeply at him. He feels sick, but... also like he hadn't eaten in days]

>[Morning comes, and your sleep was undisturbed. But it's oddly quiet... too quiet.]

>[Where is your "twin"?]

> "So, where's your older brother? He's usually way too grumpy to come out most of the time isn't he? Sheesh, poor guy should get some friends. . ."

(î) > You sit at a local bar wedged in-between the two blonde monsters. An old-fashioned sits in your hand, yet you do not drink. By no means are you a heavy drinker, far from it. After all you need to be alert, at the ready in case they plan to kill you.

> "He's sleeping. Definitely didn't want him to get woken up so late at night. . . Hasn't been feeling well."> "Oh . . . How disappointing. Feels wrong without him here. Oh well."

(î) > That's the point, yes. Studious observation there Colleague. Not like you bothered to do that when trapped in an elevator now did he? Shaking your cynical words away, you beam in false happiness.

> "Sometimes. . . It's best to just leave him alone."

(î) > As nauseating as it was, you tried to push the urge down, at least for now. . . The starvation hits you like a truck, your thoughts in a jumble from past scripts. There's a distinct buzzing in your head, yet you wait. You can fold these fools one way or another.

(î) > You have to. For him.

> "Hey . . . I need to ask you two something. Something important."

(i) > Groggily you awaken from your bed. With a stretch, you hold the doll close. No nightmares, at least not yet. Swinging your legs out of bed, you moved to the rest of the complex. Firstly you notice how quiet it is, then you take notice of your brother's absence. Still, you call out to him just in case.

> "N-Neil . . ? Neil where are you?"

(i) > Radio silence from your "twin" is enough to set off alarm bells in your head. Quick to check the bathroom, you move to the bottom cabinet to notice the draw open. Immediately dread washes over you at the sudden realization.

> "Shit!! Shit shit! No no no . . ! Please tell me he didn't. . !"

(i) > You don't care if you die out there. You just want your "twin" back. Neil was all you had left to keep verbal company. With Bruce still in your hands, you threw on your blazer and slipped on your shoes. Your overall belts dangle loosely as you push open the door out into the darkness.

(i) > You want him safe, you want him home. Long ago, you accepted that your life had no value apart coming to this job. With that chance stripped away from you, all you had left was yourself. Someone manifested to be you. It doesn't matter now if you die and are sent back here, the elevator, or nowhere at all.

> "Neil! Neil!! Don't!! PLEASE!!"

(i) > You run in the darkness, praying that Neil will be okay by the time you're there.

#the elevator twins #elevator hitch #// ✂️ protag: replies #// ✂️ antag: replies

[makarovni]

WIP Wednesday!!!

Tagged by @corvosattano and @adelaidedrubman to share some WIP stuff!! Thank you!!

Last week I shared this snippet from Bianca's Nice Guys verse and since it's the only thing I've been able to work on for some reason, I'll share some stuff that occurs in the story before the snippet in the other post. If you guys wanna check it out that's cool but if not it's cool too!!

TW for kidnapping and allusions to abuse. Once more, the villains' names are redacted bc I want it to be a mystery for when I actually post it.

Luck shines on her as light shines on one door in particular, the placard reading "office" glinting in the small amount of light that fills the hall. Of course, there's a catch– it's locked. Bianca considers just unscrewing the hinges to get inside, but is a risk that big really worth it? What if there's no phone? What if one of them catches her? What if…

"No," she hisses at herself, bending down to the door's lower hinge, "no more "What ifs." You're going to get out of here."

As she undoes the hinges' fasteners, as quickly as she can, Bianca occasionally peeks over her shoulder or leans her ear a certain way, hoping nobody hears her. She moves up to the top hinges with a sigh of brief relief, and does the same to it, undoing those screws at record speeds.

"I should be in a fucking NASCAR pit crew," Bianca whispers to herself, shifting the door so she can get behind it then push it back into place, so it looks untouched to the unaware. Sure, screws are scattered on the floor now, but [Bianca's abuser] and his ilk wouldn't notice.

Thankfully, the room is what it says on the door– an office. An oddly pristine one, at that. A fine wooden desk with a typewriter on it, a bottle of whiskey and two glasses beside it. The chair is dusty, but made of authentic leather. Unlike most of the warehouse, the room is actually carpeted, and there's wallpaper up. This office looks so out of place, Bianca almost feels like she's transported somewhere else– it feels safe.

And, as luck would have it, there's a phone on another desk in the room. Bianca's breath catches in her throat and she runs over, dials Holland's office number, and waits.

And waits.

"Hello?"

Bianca exhales with relief. "Holy shit, Holly. Look, it's Bianca. You need to get your dad, or Healy, or both, and let me talk to them. I'm in a lot of trouble."

"Oh my god," Holly replies, "they're out looking for you right now. Where are you?"

She begins to cry, involuntarily letting tears drip down her face. "Fuck…you know [Bianca's abuser], from the case? He and the other two jumped me and brought me to [Bianca's abuser's] fucked up military bunker warehouse…the address is in the files. Your dad should have it."

"Well, they went to look for you at your apartment, but I have the files here," Holly says, and the sound of a cabinet being dug through can be heard on the other end. "I have it here! I'll call your house and tell them where you're at, and we'll come get you. Don't worry."

"They need to be armed," Bianca says, rolling the screwdriver in her hand. "These guys are planning on killing, and I want us to have the advantage. Tell them to be armed, and send them my way. You sit tight, okay, Holly?"

"No, I'm coming with them!" Holly proclaims. "I'm not going to sit around while you potentially get hurt!"

Bianca sighs heavily. "Holly, no. They…they did the things they did to me when I was your age. And they've done it other times. You're not safe. Please, for me, stay at the office."

"But I–"

"Holly!" Bianca is choking back sobs now, hand tight around the screwdriver. "Holly, stay there. Please. Just tell your dad and Healy where I am and to be armed. Nothing more, nothing less. Do you understand me?"

"Yeah, I do. I'll do what you asked."

"Thank you," she sniffles. "Tell them to be careful. And listen…I know you don't want me with your dad, because I'm not your mom, and I was never trying to be your mom, I never will be her. But I love your dad more than anything, and I love you, Holly. Let that be known. I love you, sweetheart."

With that, Bianca hangs up and leans against the wall with her screwdriver held like a combat knife, ready to defend herself. She doesn't know where those men are, or if they know she's escaped, but for the time being, she's going to sit right there and wait on Holland and Healy.

#my wips #my writing #wip wednesday #bianca andretti #fic: when the rain washes you clean you'll know

[noblehcart]

Drabble: Afternoon discussions ( @russicnrat ) Author’s note: because i ADORE the scenes in WC where Peter and El  are at home and discuss Neal and so I had to do a gliesel take on it for dima. I’ll take any excuse/opportunity to write gliesel lbh they’re my fave. i live and die for them.

“You’re on time for dinner today!” Liesel beamed from peeking her head through the kitchen doorway to see her husband shrugging off his jacket and putting his gun away. The sound of his warm chuckle reverberated in the small townhome as he continued to work on loosening his tie.

“I am. Mikhailov and Essen agreed to finish up the paperwork so I could be home on time for once.” He smiled as the tie was deposited beside the gun, turning to walk towards his wife before a slight unsettled noise sounded from her. Her olive green eyes flickered to the gun left on her entry table then back to him as he raised his hands with a soft laugh. “Alright, I will put it away right now.”

“Thank you. Dinner is almost ready!” She called turning back into the kitchen to mind the stove as she listened to the familiar sounds of him punching in the code to the safe to lock away the gun in question. It just put her mind at ease to not have it lying around even if they didn’t have little ones yet. Yet. She hoped one day, but for now their life was hectic enough with her work and his. Besides as Bartok trotted up to her, sniffing her hands she knew they already had something close enough to one anyways. 

“What are we having?”

She turned to him with a wry smile. “Your favorite. Stroganoff.” 

“I am the luckiest man on the planet.” He hummed walking up to her, arm wrapped around her waist as he tugged his wife close and stole a kiss.

Liesel laughed lightly as her hand reached up to loosen his stiff collar “Yes, you are. You sounded exhausted on the phone earlier so I thought a nice dinner was in order if you made it on time.”

“I’m so glad I did.” His dark eyes flickered over to the stove where the covered pot simmered before a shifting away slightly. “I think a glass of scotch is in order with my day. Wine for you?”

“You know me well.” She said moving back to the stove to check on the food, bringing the wooden spoon around the pan making sure it didn’t burn when she heard the faint grumble of her husband behind her. “Popov was here wasn’t he? My scotch is gone.”

“No, it isn’t.” Lips quirked up as she tried not to laugh looking back to him and the scowl on his features. “I hid it in case he dropped by, which yes, he did stop by. He was reutrning a book of mine. Check under the cabinet behind the cleaners.” 

The faint scuff of his shoes echoed against the wood flooring of the kitchen as the creak of the cabinet hinges followed and she made a mental note to get some WD40 some time this week to take care of that. The shuffle of plastic and glass bottles followed before a sharp curse ensued and she sighed looking to Gleb slightly miffed.

“He still found it.” He held up the very empty glass bottle of scotch removing the note at the bottom of it before reading aloud as the container was set loudly on the counter, his hands moving to rest on his hips. “The world’s greatest pleasures are the hidden ones. Why does he have to get into my scotch? I thought his palate was too refined for it? Or some other snobby ridiculous reason.” 

“Its kind of funny.” Liese smiled shyly at she picked up the note and read it with a soft laugh. “I’ll get you another bottle tomorrow.”

His lips pressed into a hard line. “That bottle was expensive, you know I don’t like spending on extravag-”

“I know, I know.” She countered reaching up to wrap her arms behind his neck to distract him from the obvious upset that she’d have to bring up to Vlad next time. If you drink my husband’s liquor please replace it. “But-” Was the soft response. “I made a great sale today so there’s plenty to afford buying it again. My original buyer didn’t show up to complete the purchase of that 13th century bible and the second buyer upped their offer. We’re doing just fine. I will get you another bottle tomorrow. You’ll have to settle for wine today?”

“I’ll find a way to settle-” A laughing shriek sounded from the petite brunette as she found herself scooped off her feet and set on the kitchen counter, his lips brushing along the shell of her ear. She could only grin as her hands continued to brush over his collar and she hummed out in response. 

“Very stressful day, huh?” She felt him sigh against her skin as he pressed against her and the tension returned to his shoulder.

“Dmitry is determined to give me high blood pressure and take down bureau at the same time. He is always has something up his sleeve and finds a short cut to everything like its so damned easy.” He grumbled now distractedly letting his hands wander while she glanced over his shoulder to the food making sure it didn’t burn. “Between him, Popov and this case right now I’m at my wits end and-.”

“Hey.” Her hand moved to gently pull him away from her collarbone and draw his gaze down to her. Fingers carefully brushed along his jaw, smooth soft skin against the slight stubble as she worked to distract him. “You’re done for the day now. No more Dmitry or Vlad or work. Time to relax. Wine, dine and relaxation. Me and you.” 

She felt the warmth of his hands slid up her legs as he nodded with a slightly apologetic look before leaning for a searing kiss, one hand lingering on her thigh while the other carefully cradled her head- when the sound of buzzing cut in. Breaking from the kiss with a groan Gleb looked to his phone sitting on the table and he could make out the caller ID name drawing another dark scowl. “I’m going to ignore it-”

The phone continued to buzz adamantly as they both stared till Liesel let out a soft sigh. “Just answer it.”

“It better be damn important.” He growled reaching for the phone and pressing the green phone icon. “What is it Dmitry I just got ho-”

Silence filled the house with the exception of the sizzle of the pan and the faint clicking sound of Bartok’s nails against the floor as he entered the room searching for scraps. Liesel watched as her husband’s face remained pensive listening to the familiar sounding voice on the other end before the slight beginnings of a smile appeared on his features. 

“I don’t know how you got that and frankly I don’t want to know either. I’ll be right over. Yeah. Sure-” The phone shifted slightly as Gleb looked to his wife with a slight sigh. “Dmitry says hello and sorry for dinner.”

“I forgive you, but you owe me a dinner!” She called out loud enough for the conman to hear on the other side, his response sounding like laughter as Gleb pulled away from Liesel to let her hop down from her seat on the countertop. 

“Be there in fifteen.” Gleb remarked before hanging up and looking back to the food on the stove longingly then back to his wife. “I’ll make it up to you? He might have found a break in the case or something very close to it.”

She just smiled shaking her head at him before leaning up to press a firm kiss then reach over to turn off the stove. “Go be a hero. I’ll be here when you get home.” 

#russicnrat #// white collar au #// drabble

[just6f]

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[shemarmooresfedora]

Home

Series Summary: After being arrested, Spencer Reid desperately tries to get back home to his daughter, Camellia, who was placed into foster care in your home.

Pairing: Single!Dad!Spencer x Foster!Mom!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Content/Warnings: mentions of Diana’s Alzheimer’s and Schizophrenia, prison, separation of father and daughter, swearing

A/N: i hope you guys enjoy my new fic! this may be about 8 chapters or so! i’m not sure yet, going to see how interested people are in the plot :) (also quick disclaimer: i have never been in the foster care system so please excuse any inaccuracies)

Masterlist

Chapter 1

Spencer never wanted his daughter to see him like this, being brought into the BAU bullpen in handcuffs. He was supposed to be the good guy.

Right now, he couldn’t tell if he still was. He had good intentions going down to Mexico to get non-FDA approved medicine for his mom but he may have killed someone in the process. If only he could just remember.

Camellia ran into his arms to hug him, a hug he so desperately wanted to return if it wasn’t for these stupid cuffs around his wrists.

“They can’t just take you away, Dad,” she cried.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m going to get back to you as soon as possible,” he promised, kissing the top of her head.

Spencer felt absolutely crushed as the guards had to drag his crying 11-year-old off of him so he could be taken to his holding cell.

-

You had just gotten off of work when your phone rang. Eileen, the head foster care coordinator, was calling.

“Hello,” you answered.

“Hey Y/N,” she greeted you, “I know you haven’t had a foster kid in a few months but I kind of have an urgent case. 11-year-old sixth grade girl. Mom has been out of the picture for a while, Dad recently imprisoned and on trial for murder. There are a bunch of family friends willing to take her but no direct family,” she explained.

“I can take her for as long as she needs,” you told Eileen.

“Great! I’ll text you the address, it’s the FBI headquarters.”

-

When you walked into the BAU, still in your dino scrubs and white lab coat, Eileen was surrounded by a frantic group of people.

“As I said before, I don’t doubt any of your credentials but this is the law. We can only give away a child to direct family at this point in time. If you are not direct family, you will need a lawyer to fight for custody as well as permission from her father but that process could take months,” Eileen stated.

“Spencer hasn’t spoken to his father in years and his mother is in a facility for her schizophrenia and Alzheimer’s,” a dark-haired woman spoke.

“Exactly so she must be turned over to the foster care system. I apologize to you all but this is how it works. We can’t bend the rules,” Eileen said.

“I don’t want Callie fending for herself in a house with 20 other kids,” a blonde-haired woman argued, “I’m her godmother. She stays with me all the time. She was staying with me while Spencer was in Mexico.”

“Sorry, my answer is still no. But, hopefully this will squash your concerns, Y/N!” she called you over, “This is Y/N. Jo will be placed with her. She is a pediatric doctor and currently has no other foster kids at the moment but all of her past kids have absolutely adored her. She always passes her surprise safety and wellness checks with flying colors.

“Hi,” you waved, intimidated by this huge group of frustrated people with guns on their hips.

“A doctor? So she isn’t even going to be home most of the time,” a curly-haired man scoffed.

“Actually, I own my own practice. I don’t work at a hospital so I usually have a regular 8-4 shift unless one of my patients needs urgent attention,” you clarified.

“JJ, don’t make me go,” a girl, who you could only assume was Callie, sobbed.

They were all staring at you like you were the worst person on Earth. You wanted to shrivel up and die. When you went through the process of becoming a foster parent, you thought this was a very admirable thing to do. You just wanted to provide a good home to kids in need.

“Do any of you have a key to Dr. Reid’s residence so Camellia can pack a bag?” you asked politely.

The woman closest to Callie that must be JJ pulled a key off of her chain and handed it to you.

“I’ll-um-leave my phone number and address here so you guys can contact me at any time or stop by. I understand your concerns but please know I try my absolute hardest to make sure all kids feel welcome and safe in my house,” you scribbled your information down on a scrap piece of paper.

“Are you ready to go, Camellia?” you asked softly.

She went around hugging everyone in the circle before solemnly nodding to you.

God, you felt like such an asshole.

-

After Callie finished packing her things from her bedroom in relative silence, you returned to the car.

“I don’t know what you like to eat but we can stop at the grocery store so we can get stuff you like and any other things you need,” you said.

You were met with silence from the backseat. You offered for her to sit in the passenger seat but she declined.

“Listen, I’m really not trying to be the bad guy here. Please don’t make me out to be one. I know you are having a tough time with your Dad’s situation right now but shutting everyone else out won’t help,” you spoke softly, “Trust me, I know.”

You sighed when the silence continued. You pulled out of the Reid’s driveway and headed to the grocery store.

-

You let Callie lead when you entered the grocery store, opting to follow behind her with the cart. She went immediately to the frozen meal section and started throwing them in.

“Camellia, that’s fine if those are what you want but just so you know, I love to cook so I can make you anything you want,” you offered.

“This is what I’m used to,” she spoke sharply, “My dad is not a bad dad, he just usually doesn’t have much time.”

“I never claimed he was,” you defended yourself.

After that, you kept your mouth shut. Clearly, she was a very independent girl and she had her own routine she liked to stick to.

-

You hauled all the grocery bags inside the house and unloaded them as Callie brought in her suitcases.

“So Camellia, I put all the food you picked out in these two cabinets. I mean obviously, you are welcome to anything in the kitchen but I just wanted you to know where the things you picked out were. I always have a grocery list on the fridge that you can add to,” you began to give her a tour of the house, “Bathroom is in there. There’s another upstairs. Here’s the living room with a TV,” you headed up the stairs, “Here’s my room.”

On your bed was an adorable toyger kitten cuddled up on your pillow.

“Oh! This is Winnie like Winnie the Pooh. I just got her a few weeks ago from a shelter. She is super friendly and loves snuggles so she will probably try to sneak into your bed unless you keep your door closed.”

“I don’t mind,” Callie spoke softly as she petted Winnie.

You smiled softly. These were the first words you got out of her that weren’t a rejection.

You continued the tour, “There’s a bathroom between our rooms but I tend to use the downstairs one so feel free to make it your own. And here’s your room,” you opened the door to a white room with a queen bed in the center, a small bookshelf, a few plants, and paintings.

“I hope this is good enough for now. We can go out this weekend to a home goods store if you want to redecorate. I’d even be open to repainting it if you want,” you offered.

Callie just set her bags down and nodded.

“Alright, I’ll leave you be. I’ll probably be downstairs for a while watching TV if you want to join. Let me know if you want me to make you anything,” you began to shut the door but Winnie slipped in first.

“Good night, you guys,” you smiled softly.

-

“Do you want me to wait out here or come in with you?” you asked softly.

Spencer had been denied bail, meaning he was transferred to a federal prison and Callie was going to be staying with you for a while. She had taken the news rather hard as expected when the team came over to your house to tell her. You still weren’t really accepted by the group so you mostly stood in the corner of the kitchen while they were all in your living room.

You had spoken to Eileen several times about Callie’s current situation. She gave you permission to do whatever you saw fit. This means you could opt her out of school one or two days a week if she wasn’t feeling up to it as long as she emailed her teachers and got her missed work in on time. You were researching different therapists for her to talk to because she didn’t seem to want to open up to you. You were also given a schedule of visiting times for her to visit her dad in prison.

“I’ll just go in alone,” she walked in the door to the visiting room, leaving you in the waiting room.

-

“Dad,” Callie tried to hug Spencer but the guard pointed to the ‘No Touching’ sign posted on the wall.

They both sat down defeatedly at opposite ends of the table.

“How are you?” Callie inquired, wiping her tears away from seeing her father locked up.

“I don’t want to talk about me, sweetheart. How are you? Emily and my lawyer visited yesterday and told me you had to be placed into foster care,” Spencer asked, concerned.

“It’s okay. Not the best,” she sighed.

“What’s happening? Are they hurting you? Are they not giving you enough to eat? Callie, I’ll have my lawyer on the phone and you out of there so quick,” Spencer frantically stated.

“No, Dad. Y/N is fine…nice, even. But she’s not you,” Callie cried.

Spencer’s face softened, “I’m so sorry, Callie. You don’t deserve to be dealing with any of this.”

“Just please come home,” she sniffled.

“I’m trying, sweetheart, I’m really trying,” he replied earnestly with tears in his eyes.

A/N: i will also be starting a series taglist if you don’t want to be added to my main taglist so just clarify which one you want to join! also i recommend listening to the song Home by Phillip Phillips because it is kind of like the theme song for this story

main taglist (just ask to be added/removed!): @samuel-de-champagne-problems @g0lden-cth @spencerreid9 @averyhotchner @coldlilheart @k-k0129 @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @harrystylesandthegoobs @cmily @jswessie187 @rem-ariiana @hoodpankow @mochionly @spencerreid-187 @babymetaldoll @fics4arainyday @ssavanessa22 @all-tings-diego

series taglist: @ilovespencerreidmarryme

#spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #dr spencer reid #cm fanfic #spencer x reader #reid x reader #criminal minds

[pitaparka]

a steadfast heart will conquer

summary: you show up at frankie’s doorstep in the middle of the night after your boyfriend gets violent. he invites you in and lets you stay with him.

pairings: frankie morales x fem!reader

word count: 2.5k

warnings: mentions of domestic abuse, mentions of bruises

At midnight, you speak in fragments.

“I’m at your front door.”

He’s more asleep than awake. He doesn’t have the brain to question you.

“It’s raining.”

He can tell. He can hear it through the phone and from his bedroom window.

“Can you come let me in? Please?” You ask, and before he can say anything, you hang up. He stares at his phone, but figures there’s a girl at his front door, waiting to be let in.

He takes a second to unlock the door, in his groggy state, and sure enough, there you are, in all your midnight glory, on his front doorstep. It’s more romantic in movies, he thinks.

There’s nobody outside except for you. The streets are desolate, and the lamplight is obscured by the pouring rain. It thuds off of your car that’s parked in his driveway, and he knows it’ll bleed in through the crack in the door that doesn’t quite meet the frame.

He’ll help you fix it tomorrow.

But right now, you lean into him, slowly, and wrap your arms around his neck. You're wet, he notes. Wet and cold. He’s sure you're soaked down to your socks. Hair, jacket, shoes, all dripping onto his hardwood floor. You're still on the steps, so he pulls you in, but you refuse to untangle yourself from him. The wind sounds even harder now with the two of you inside.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” he mutters, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. He pulls back to look at your face, but you're buried deep in his chest. He wishes it was under different circumstances.

The pouring rain punctuates every silence. He can feel you shaking.

You don’t answer.

He lets you not answer.

There’s a storm brewing in his chest. He has a sickening premonition as to why you’re here. He tries to ignore it, but his gut instinct is always right.

He shuffles awkwardly to close the door, and it muffles the rain. He can hear you sniffling now.

“What happened?”

There is only moonlight streaming in from the window over the couch. You keep your face buried in his chest when he flicks the light on. It’s harsh and bright and he grabs you by the shoulders, pulling you back to look at him but you don't remove your face from his warm, dry chest.

So he waits.

“What’s wrong?” he asks again, softer, in your ear. You rub your forehead on his worn t-shirt, and his arms find their way around your shoulders.

You find the strength to look at him from somewhere deep inside you, eyes red and swollen, eyelashes dark with tears. You squint almost imperceptibly, adjusting to the light. You’ve never felt more safe than in his embrace. Your noses almost touch.

The last and only thing he wants to do is kiss you.

He notices the red mark right away.

On your temple. His eyes soften. You watch him look at you, almost like it’s the first time.

“He hit me,” you say, congested from the tears.

Like he doesn’t notice. Like he doesn’t feel anger shoot up into his chest, heat and warmth and fire in his fingertips, down the back of his calves and aching his face. His sickening premonition coming true. He can’t come up with a single reason as to why he would do this to you. It makes fury throb in his bones. He can see your boyfriend throwing the punch and it makes him want to vomit how enraged he is.

“What do you want me to do?” he asks sincerely.

“Want me to hurt him? I’ll hurt him, you know I will. I’ll hurt him so bad,” he trails off, jaw hard and teeth grinding. Nostrils flared and lip twitching.

“No.”

He watches you rest your head on his chest, the side that your good-for-nothing dick stick didn’t punch, and he’s so careful with you, soft hands and rigid muscles.

“I just...” you start, and he’s listening. He’s listening to every word.

“I didn’t want him to hurt me. And I didn’t want to hurt him. So I... left. I went and sat in the CVS parking lot,” you admit. He figures you needed someone to talk to. He wanted someone to listen to. He’s wide awake now. He still has fight in his blood, so he repurposes it. He holds you, securely. Strong and firm.

“I was gonna fight back... but I didn’t want anyone to get hurt, I really didn’t.” you say. He closes his eyes. He steadies his breathing. How could someone so sweet, so powerful, so kind, end up with the exact antithesis of all of those things?

“I know,” he reassures, “I know you didn’t.”

You sigh shakily into his chest. He’s there for you. He’s steadfast and unwavering. You could collapse into him and you trust he would catch you, help you up, dust you off, or in your case, dry you off. But you don’t. You stand strong with him, and you let herself be supported by him. You yourself whole still. Shaky, and faltering, but whole, all by yourself. With him there, you feel a little steadier, resolute in your decisions. He supports you, and you love him for it.

“Can I stay here?” you ask.

“Of course,” he replies.

His clothes don’t fit you, but you don’t mind and neither does he.

Your hair smells like roses and rain.

You take his bed; he takes the couch.

It’s hard for him to fall asleep there, but he doesn’t mind that, either.

It’s four AM when you wake him up for the second time this morning. The grogginess is stronger than before, it seems. You’re on your knees in front of the couch, face level with him, and he jerks back in surprise.

“I’m sorry,” you say, placing a hand on his chest. His bare chest. His shirt is somewhere, he doesn’t care where. It got hot, he recalls.

“Y’scared me,” he mumbles. Would this girl let him get any sleep?

“Come sleep with me. I feel bad,” you say.

“Woke me up ‘cause y’feel bad?” he asks, and you can tell he’s irritated, but tired more than anything. Sleep carries heavily through his voice.

“No,” you clarify, “I woke you up ‘cause I had a nightmare.”

Now he’s the one that feels bad.

He lets you lead him to his own bed, but he makes a pit stop on the way to use the bathroom. He finds you curled up under his covers, staring at the doorway, waiting for him.

He smiles and joins you. He sleeps on his back. You sleep on your stomach.

He has one pillow. you have one too.

You both listen to each other breathe.

You throw an arm over his stomach. He rubs his thumb over your hand.

It’s not storming anymore, but you can both feel the electricity in the sky.

The old, squeaky mattress creaks as you move, swapping your pillow for his shoulder. It’s not as bony as you thought it would be.

You only wake up when his alarm goes off on the nightstand beside you.

You groan, and realize you’re curled up with someone in a bed that’s not your own. Your face aches as you relive the events of last night.

He wakes up when you shift to turn off the alarm, taking his time to notice you.

“Hey,” you say, in his shirt.

“Morning,” he yawns, not in his shirt.

“Thank you,” you start, but he cuts you off.

“No no no, don’t do that, don’t make it...” he trails, sitting up in bed. He rubs the sleep from his eyes again. All things considered, he got some decent sleep. He thinks it might have something to do with the warm body that was pressed up against him all night.

“No, really,” you say. You sit criss-cross on your side of the bed, and he has to remind himself that it’s his own bed (singular), not your bed (plural), and the whole bed is his bed. But for now, he can say it’s your side of the bed. At least to himself.

“Thank you for being there for me.” you say finally. He smiles at you.

“Of course.” He whines as he yawns, and things are okay for now. The storm is over.

“You want breakfast?” He asks, getting up and stopping at his dresser to put on shorts. His boxers were fine last night, but now that the sun is shining through the window, it’s kind of weird. He pulls on a shirt too.

“I have taquitos,” he says walking into his kitchen, and you squint at him, hot on his tail.

“Taquitos for breakfast?” you ask skeptically, and he makes his way over to the freezer.

“Taquito time is all the time.” He clarifies, taking the cardboard box from underneath a tub of ice cream and a bag of frozen peas. He freezes, before he turns around to look at you.

“Do you, uh, want some ice for that?” He says, and it takes you a second to realize what he means.

You touch the bruise softly, applying light pressure and wincing when it hurts.

He notices and puts the box down on the counter, wrapping the peas thoroughly in paper towels before handing them to you.

You nod a thank you, and hop up on his counter, holding them to your face.

He notices his shirt on you again, and his shorts on you, and how domestic this would be if that mistake hadn’t laid his hands on you. Though he does admit, you probably wouldn’t have been here in the first place without that run in.

He thinks he’d rather never see you again rather than have you come to him hurt like that.

He moves over to you, and carefully moves your head away from the cabinets holding the dish ware so he can open it. There’s tension in the air. He plates the taquitos and you listen to the buzz of the microwave as they warm up.

Neither of you touch your respective phones while you eat your taquitos. There are decisions to be made that will have consequences. You glance at your phone, but look away each time. Your eyes never meet. You both focus on the plate of miniature crunchy tortillas made with fake corn, filled with beef that was probably artificial. Neither of you mind.

After breakfast, or what could be sufficed as breakfast, he watches you finally check your phone.

“seventeen missed calls,” you read, “and thirty something texts.”

“Wow.”

“Not as crazy as I expected,” you note.

“Wanna see if he left any batshit voicemails?” you ask, grinning. He’s less than excited. Your smile falters as you read the texts.

“What? What’d he say?” he asks, getting up from the table to read over your shoulder. You make no move to hide the texts from him and something like relief floods his veins for a split second.

“Nothing,” you clarify, “just that... he’s so sorry… how he’s such a terrible person, that he’ll never do it again.”

He stares at you.

You ignore the messages and lock your phone.

You look up at Frankie.

“So?” he asks.

“So?” you ask back. He clears his throat.

“What are you gonna tell him?”

“I don’t know,” you sigh, grabbing the empty plate and sliding past him. You turn on the faucet in the sink and wait for it to get hot.

“You don’t have to do that,” he says, but you don’t respond.

You add soap to a sponge and start washing the minimal dishes there: a bowl, a few spoons, your plate, a whisky glass.

He stands by you, grabbing a hand towel from the countertop and wiping the dishes down before putting them away.

“Why don’t you have a drying rack?” you ask, as he puts away the last of the glasses.

“I dunno,” he says, “I don’t have that many plates and forks and stuff, so I just dry it and put it away as I go.”

“Hmm,” you remark, and turn off the faucet. He hands you the dish towel and you wipe your hands dry before folding it and placing it on the counter. You look at him and sigh. The elephant in the room is demanding your attention.

“What do you think I should tell him?”

He stares at your bruise, and he feels the anger from last night bubble up in his throat again.

“That you’re gonna send me to beat him the fuck up.” He says, and you roll your eyes, staring at him endearingly.

“I’m not getting back together with him.” you say, and he feels his heart do some weird stuff in his chest.

“It’s over for us. I’m breaking up with him the next time I see him.” you say, a finality in your words that make him confident you would do as you said.

“Good.” He crosses his arms and shifts his weight to one side.

“Should I go see him today?” you ask.

“Do you want to?” he questions. You sigh and shake your head.

“You’re no help.”

“Hey! I’m so much help,” he defends, and you smile at him.

“Sure.”

“I can go with you if you want,” he says seriously. You stare at him.

“If you want,” you offer, and he nods his head.

“Okay.” you say.

He watches you grab your phone and your now dry clothes and make your way into his bathroom. He listens as you close the door and waits until he hears the water start running, accompanied by soft music.

He squeezes the bridge of his nose and takes a second to examine the thawing bag of peas on his kitchen table.

He smiles to himself as he makes out the lyrics of your song.

As he puts the bag back in his freezer, he runs a nervous hand through his hair and stares at your car in his driveway.

He wants nothing more than to bruise you up himself, his mouth on your skin, his hands on your hips.

But that thought is fleeting. He gets closer to the bathroom and can hear you singing clearly, and he takes a second to listen before he speaks.

“Hey, I’m gonna go take a quick look at your car, okay?”

The water turns off.

“What?”

“I’m—I’m gonna go look at your car!” he says loudly, “the leaky door!”

There’s quiet for a moment before you’re unlocking the door, in only a towel. His towel.

“Thank you!” you beam, and with one hand clutching the towel to your chest, you hand him your car keys.

“They were in my pocket. It’d be kinda hard to get in without them,” you joke.

“Yeah, ‘course.” He grins lopsidedly, keeping his eyes a respectable distance from your naked torso.

With a smile, you close the door in his face.

The music resumes, as does the water, and Frankie breathes.

It would be a miracle if he made it through the day without sending someone to the hospital.

#frankie morales #triple frontier #francisco morales #frankie morales x reader #catfish x reader #catfish #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #soft as fuck #sweet tooth #tw domestic abuse #tw abuse #tw bruises #triple frontier x reader #hurt/comfort #fanfiction #fem!reader #afab reader

[lunaekalenda]

hi!! can i ask for either an eren or porco x reader fic where their titan form saves you from nearly dying during a battle and they get mad at you afterwards because they’re obviously not gonna be there all the time then when you apologize they end up breaking down because their afraid of losing you and it just ends in fluff 👉🏻👈🏻

OMG OMG wait this is gold!! that was a really good plot!! i had a hard time deciding, but i'm more into porco lately, so this time i'll be using him for my first fic! i hope you like it and sorry for the errors or the things that were different to the original ask :(  (*´-`) this takes place in one of the battles Marley fights against another enemy, but I will not follow the line of the original manga :D (also thanks to @breathes24 for refreshing my memory :D)

𝔰𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔶𝔬𝔲

❁ porco x reader

❁ mention of blood and battle, mention of the extraction of a bullet, bad talking. shingeki s4 spoilers!

The only thing you could hear were shots. You kept running, your feet hurted and the backpack was really heavy. Running in the middle of the battlefield was a suicide mission, you knew it, but you were not going to leave all in Pieck's and Porco's hands. So, trying to avoid the shots, you keep runing. You can see Pieck's bag shooting and Porco running from one machine to another, trying to break them with his hardened claws. You look around, the corpses of your companions scattered across the field, along with some enemies. You try to concentrate in what you’re trying to do. The kids are safe in the trench, and you’re not a soldier of valor, you only have nursing knowledge, useless for the fight.

That’s why the commander has not hesitated to send you as a distraction.

“If you expose yourself as an easy target, they will probably have to divide their attention between them and you. Also, they know there are nine Changing Titans, but they don’t know exactly how many of them we have. They could think you’re one of them. That will make Zeke’s appearance more unexpected for them, you see?”

"Where the hell is Zeke?" you think. He should be here helping, a lot of eldians have died. a scream is heard and you identify it as a Titan's one. Pieck received a shot on her hand. She's losing her strength little by little. Porco keeps fighting, and Pieck’s support soldiers do a great job mastering the cannons, trying to hit the enemies. Reiner is trying to stop their train.

"Just wait a bit, guys. I'm almost there..." you enter the enemy side of the field. Your trench looks empty, because your army blindly believes in titans. But, like humans, their stamina is limited, and transforming takes a great deal of energy.

"There's one of them!!" someone yells in front of you. "She could be the Beast Titan, kill her before she reaches the other two!" all the soldiers can be heard loading their shotguns. 

The first shot impacts on the floor. The second, near you. You just have an option: keep running, faster.

You accelerate the step to the front, where big war machines are searching you. From the trench, a lot of soldiers are trying to kill you, failing due to the poor visibility they have, but it's a matter of time before those who run the tanks finds you.

This is the end.

The shots are every time more precise, but you can’t return and leave them alone, waiting for Zeke to make his appearance.

You have no scape.

You close your eyes, accepting the destiny, while you keep running. You can hear them charging their big machines. They found you.

You’re their target now.

A Titan's scream is heard, right before the order of the enemy captain.

"Fire!"

You open your eyes when a shot impacts on your leg, and you watch how they charge the canons, ready to kill you. Now you have zero scape way, you’re hurt and you can’t move.

Suddenly, the Jaw Titan appears and, opening his mouth, picks you up off the ground, locking you in his hardened jaw. His speed of movement allows him to easily dodge all shots. 

"Thanks, Pock."

A tremor and the sound of lightning tells that Zeke has already arrived to help.

He keeps runing, and then all you can hear are rocks hitting people, trains and houses. Zeke’s titan may be slow for running, but his pitches are deadly. Your leg hurts where the bullet went through, and the pants you’re using are covered with blood. 

“Just leave me here and return. I don’t want them to lose because of me.”

He ignored what you said and kept running, but slowing down. Probably he’s tired, he has been fighting for hours. 

Once you two are far enough from the battlefield, Porco turns right and you recognize the path he has been taking. We’re close to the residence. He opens his mouth and you go down to the floor, but your leg complains of the roughness of the movement. Then, his Titan falls, and he appears behind it. He seems angry.

"What the hell were you doing there?" he says. His Titan is steaming. 

"I wanted to help you, you were doing all the work... The commander told me to help and I thought it was a good idea." Porco looks at you without saying anything for a minute. Then, he sighs and looks at your bleeding leg, before coming towards you. His arm slips under your knees carefully, and the other rests on your back, before he lifts you. “I can walk, you don’t have to...”

“You have a fucking bullet inside, just take help for one damn time.” You decided to shut up and he enters the residence. “I have some medical stuff in my room, I’ll take you there.” He starts to walk up the stairs, heading to his room. There are a few doctors on their daily check of the injured soldiers that live here. He opens his door using his foot, and he enters. His room is clean and clear. Natural light comes in through the window, and a bedside lamp lights up the corner of hi bed. He leaves you in the bed before walking to his personal bathroom, from where he takes a medicine cabinet. Porco drags a chair to place it near the bed, making him able to treat your leg. He hasn’t talk since we arrived here, but he keeps frowning. 

“We didn’t need help” He says after cutting your pants at the height of the wound. Then, Porco opens the medicine cabinet, and takes out thread, needle and some surgical tweezers. The scalpel glows when he pulls it out.

“Maybe this hurts a bit.” He whispers. He prepares also a towel with some water. “Grab that pillow and use it to muffle your screams.” You do what he said, and you put his pillow on your face. It smells like him, and it comforts you a lot. He works fast, moving his fingers with precision, and extracting the bullet without problem. Once he’s finished, he saves everything back in place and offers you a glass of water. You’re dizzy from the pain and you needed to drink, so you thank him and drink.

“Do it slow or you’ll be feeling worst, idiot.” he scolds tou. You drink it slower and you take a breath once you’re finished.

“Thanks” He puts the glass on the table he has as a desk. 

“Well, I...”

“You could have died out there” he says. He’s not looking at you, and runs his hand through his hair. “You were about to die.”

“Thanks for that, you saved me”

“I’m not going to last forever, you know? Someday I’ll die, and I’m not going to be there to save you like all the other times. So start thinking about surviving and stop playing the heroine.”

“Sorry?”

Why was he so pissed off? You didn’t ask for his help.

“I don't have to take care of you every time we go out onto the battlefield”

“Stop doing it, then”

“It's called companionship, but it only works if everyone focuses on surviving and not in saving stupid death-hugging soldiers”

“I never asked you to save me.” The words come out on their own before you could stop them. That was very rude, you’re ungrateful. He looks at you in the eyes, but you can't tell how he feels. 

“Cool, next time I'll take care of my business and let you die, if that’s what you want.”

He’s hurt. You hurt him because you were getting nervous. 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean anything that I said. I was getting anxious...”

He sighs. “I also talked badly to you.”

“But you’re right. I can’t survive by myself.” 

“I didn’t mean to say that.” His voice is losing strength, and his gaze is lowered. “It’s just... I thought that today I was losing you, I was not going to be able to arrive on time” his voice breaks while he talks. “I don't know what I would have done if something had happened to you”

You looked at him surprised. “To me? Who cares about me? Maybe it’s because we trained together since kids.” You think for yourself, before speaking.

“Well, I know you care for all of us, but Pock yo...”

“You’re not getting it.” He says. Then he leans over to the bed. “I care for you. I care a lot. I can’t imagine if something bad happens to you. I’m always near in case I have to help you. I can only thing about your wellness.” His brown eyes are fixed on yours. “Please, don’t do that again.” His eyes are getting wet. “Just the idea of losing you terrifies me.” His hand sits on your back, and draws you to him. You’re speechless.

You have always been interested in Porco. When you first met him, you thought he was really handsome, and his personality made you think of him as unattainable. You two have been training together since kids. He was really good in all skills, and you were really bad. He helped you a couple times, but you ended in the nursery school. You started to lose contact, but then he inherited the Jaw Titan and wasn’t sent to Paradis, so you both coincide again. He is a man now, even more attractive than before, but with a somewhat shocking personality. So listen him saying this things makes your heart shudder.

“Pock, I...”

“I like you. Well, I think this is no more just attraction.” he whispers. “I guess I’m in love with you.”

That hit you like a train. His love for you was behind all the times he saved you, the times he helped you and the times he reprimanded you. He was moved by love, genuine concern. 

“Are you crying?” he separates you from his body to look at your face. Tears roll down your cheeks fast. Porco places his hands on both sides of your face, dabbing them dry with his thumbs. Your hands are placed on top of his, and you lean your head towards his touch. 

“I also love you, Pock” he smiles before kissing your forehead. “Since we were kids”

“You know that if you had said it before, I would have corresponded long ago” you laugh quietly, his thumbs tracing circles on your skin. “I can’t promise you a long life together, but if you accept the little that I can offer, I’ll be delighted to be with you.”

His lips place a soft kiss on your hair and you hug him.

“I will be happy to be with you, Pock.”

The room was silent, and you could only listen to his heartbeat, slow, because he has you on his arms, alive. You look at him, his handsome face looking you.

“Does that mean I can ask you to going out later” he laughs.

“I just took out a bullet from your leg, you have to rest.” you smirk.

“I live in the other part of the city. I can’t walk.”

“I’ll call a horse cart for you.”

He was having fun, dodging every possible way to spend time together that night.

“What if my leg hurts? I live alone.” you tried and, for your surprise, he smiled.

“Then I guess you need someone to take care of you tonight...”

His lips covered yours sweetly, and you thought you could get used to it.

To him.

#porco x reader #porco galliard #snk x reader #snk fluff #snk headcanons #snk fic #snk fanfiction #snk scenario #snk x you #snk #snk levi #snk eren #snk jean #snk imagines #aot x reader #aot fluff #aot fic #aot fanfiction #aot scenario #aot headcanons #levi aot #eren aot #aot imagines #jean aot #armin aot

[annab-nana]

My Dork - Colby Brock

Sam and Colby invite you and Jake to explore a recently abandoned hospital with them and things don’t go according to plan.

@traphousedaily’s favorite xplr video project with: @lonely-xplr, @sarcasmhadachild, @gothtara, @reddesertcolbs, @reinad-snc, @cartiercolby, @colbylover99, @xplrtrash, @goddess-of-time-and-magic, @xolbyz, @myguiltypleasures21

A/N: I didn’t have a lot of time to edit this one, so sorry for any errors there might be :)

Warnings: some curse words

Word Count: 1.8k+

--------------------------------------------------

“This is the Saint Luke’s Medical Hospital,” Sam announced as he zoomed in on the large building ahead of you four. You were slightly freaked out by the number of signs telling you that there was a guard dog around that you should beware of, but the boys did not seem to care that much.

“Look, there’s a big fat boob on the top,” Jake whispered to the camera as he pointed to the brown dome shape that sat at the top of the building that also had a small cone on top of that, resulting in a breast shape.

“There’s a big fat boob right here,” Colby giggled as he pointed to your chest. Your eyes widened and you stifled a laugh. You two made those kinds of jokes all the time, but he has never done it on camera.

“Colby!” you shouted before chuckling at the joke. The other two boys laughed as well before continuing to walk forward.

“You’re supposed to honk ‘em, right?” Jake asked as he made grabby hands, still going along with the boob joke. He then made a car honking noise with his mouth, causing you three to burst out in laughter.

“Yes, Jake. Go do that. Your goal today is to get to the top and honk that boobie,” Sam influence his friend before Jake ran ahead and he made grabby hands towards the building.

“How do we explain that to security if we get caught? Like what were you doing in here? We’re trying to honk boobies,” Colby joked as you rolled your eyes, realizing you were stuck to explore this hospital with three immature idiots. A noise caught you all off guard and you looked to Colby as he looked off at the building.

“That’s the dog,” Sam mumbled, looking in the same direction as Colby. You walked forward with the group to see the dog that sat behind the glass-paneled door. The dog barked with each step you guys got closer. You, Jake, and Sam backed away, but Colby’s dog-loving heart got closer to talk to it.

“We’re gonna come explore this hospital, okay? And we’re just going to look around for a second, alright? And then, we’re gonna leave, okay?” he told the pup in his talking to animals voice.

“Wait, dude, if there’s a dog right there, that means there’s a person right next to it,” Sam warned.

“There’s just a guy just listening to me say ‘We’re just going to explore this hospital’,” Colby laughed at the thought as he walked away from the dog. You all went around the building to find the door that y’all saw earlier when checking the perimeter of the place. There was a door that was wide open, so you all figured that would be the best way to enter. Once you guys arrived at the door, Colby peeked his head in and began making kissy noises.

“What are you doing?” Sam asked his best friend.

“I’m just making sure the dog knows that we’re coming in,” he spoke with a giggle. “Dude, wait. This is the part where we decide right now, do we wanna get bit by a dog or do we wanna be safe?”

“Did you bring the meat?” Sam asked Jake and Colby before the two pointed at each other.

“Colby’s got a fat ass. Bro, that dog has food for days. Ain’t that right, y/n?” Jake asked you as you nodded your head confidently.

“Why do I always have to go first?” Colby whined before grabbing the camera from Sam and walking forward. When he walked in the door, you all heard a click. You all walked away from the door to discuss the noise before deciding to go back.

“Dude, the click was because this door is automatic,” you told them when Sam went in and waved his hand near the door.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Sam said as he popped back out. “But it smells really bad. We should put on our masks in here.”

Colby handed you and Jake each a mask from Sam’s backpack before you put on the infamous black mask. Now, it was finally time to go in. Sam led the pack as he filmed, you and Colby followed with joined hands, and Jake was the caboose as he looked around at everything.

“You look adorable in your mask,” Colby bent down to whisper.

“You can only see my eyes, you asshole,” you giggled.

“Yeah, but I love your eyes.” You batted your eyelashes at the compliment before maintaining your focus ahead of you once more. Y’all made it to some stairs and made sure to take light and slow steps to lessen the risk of noise so the dog won’t find you. Once up the stairs, you went through a door that was already cracked open.

As you walked down the hallway with the guys, you realized how cool it was that you were doing. You had explored plenty of abandoned places with Colby, but they were all run down and broken and dirty. This place, however, still had running lights and literally felt like you were in a running hospital that had zero people in it.

You guys roamed the halls slowly as you tried to stay quiet. Eventually, you reached what looked like the hall where the patients lived. Everything was dead silent before Jake dropped something and it landed with a loud thud that bounced off the walls for anyone in the building to hear.

“Jake!” you whisper shouted.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, and you all moved to leave the room, not before he ran into something else and caused a ruckus. He muttered another apology and y’all left the room.

“Listen, we’re gonna fucking die. We’re gonna fucking die if y’all don’t stop making fucking noise. Okay?” Colby whispered to Sam who was filming him. You let out a small giggle before Jake spoke.

“It was my fault. I’m sorry.” Moments later, he made yet another noise while shutting a door behind him. Sam and Jake split off one way down the hall while you and Colby went the other.

“Yo, look at this,” Colby whispered when he knelt down to grab a sign that was laying on the floor. He turned around before showing it to you. It was a sign that told you which way the surgery recovery unit was and the stroke specialist unit too. “Should I keep this?”

“I don’t see why not.” He did a small happy dance and kissed you on the cheek before walking back to Sam and Jake.

Next, y’all found the best part of the building. It still had chairs and beds and literally looked like an actual hospital. You found the waiting area where the room was lined with red chairs. The next room over had some beds in it, but that was it. The last room in the hall looked the best. It had beds, counters, cabinets, an overhead light that you could move around, but you guys couldn’t stay long because a whistle was heard. So quickly, you four took a thumbnail picture before trying to leave. Of course, the boys got sidetracked when they saw a microphone that was linked to a speaker system.

“Sir, your penis appointment is scheduled,” Jake whispered into the mic before Colby went next.

“Could we have Larry with the case of gonorrhea come to the front office please. Thank you.”

Then, they realized it was time to go. Y’all speed-walked the way you came, but when you guys reached a door, Colby accidentally pushed the handle and an alarm sounded went off.

“Oh, shit. Shit. Shit. Shit,” Sam mumbled as speed walking turned into running. You four ran down the stairs and out of the building. Y’all walked slowly for a second to catch your breath and then took off again for the car. You threw open the back door and slipped in, leaving the door open so Jake could get in too. Colby placed the surgery sign next to you and got in the front. Right as Colby drove off, a police car passed by and turned into the hospital.

“That was crazy,” you stated as your breathing finally calmed down.

“I kinda wanna explore more of it next time,” Jake told Sam. You looked at him with wide eyes. The one who caused most of the noise wanted to go back. He may not have tripped the alarm this time, but if there was going to be a next time, he definitely would be the one to do it. “I feel like we should do a part two.”

“I feel like we should do a part two to that,” Sam agreed as he looked to Colby. Jake and Sam kept encouraging the idea before Colby spoke up.

“Yo, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“You don’t think that’s a good idea?” Sam questioned.

“No, we just barely got out of there.” Colby continued.

“And Jake can’t stay quiet to save his life,” you added before Jake gasped.

“Hey!”

“It’s true,” you told him with a smile.

“What if we bring dog treats?” Sam suggested.

“For the police? Because the dog wasn’t coming for us. It was the police,” you said to them.

“Okay, let’s think reasonably here,” Colby told Jake and Sam.

“What if we did? Like what if we got dog treats?” Jake imagined.

“No,” Colby protested.

“Do you think they’re trained not to care about anything?” Sam asked.

“Yes!” Colby said with enthusiasm. You rolled your eyes in the backseat. Sam was supposed to be the smart one, but right now, he wasn’t really showing that. “Okay, you really think a dog is gonna see you and start charging at you and you’re like ‘Hey, here’s a treat. Go get it,’ and it’s just gonna go. Like, come on now.”

“That stuff only happens in cartoons, Sam,” you told the blond.

“Alright, eighty-five thousand likes and we’ll do it,” he said to the camera as he completely ignored what you and Colby had said which you two gave up and nodded along.

Later on when you all came back to the trap house, you and Colby laid in bed to think about what had happened.

“That was crazy,” you started as your head hit his chest.

“I can’t believe they thought we just needed some dog treats, and it would all be better.”

“I can believe that Jake would think that, but I thought Sam was smarter than that.” You both laughed before silence fell over you two.

“But that place was really cool and pretty. Thanks for taking me,” you whispered.

“You’re really cool and pretty,” Colby added in.

“You are such a dork,” you giggled before kissing his lips.

“I’m your dork though.”

“Yes, you are my dork.”

#colby #cole robert brock #colby brock #Sam and Colby #colby imagine #colby x reader #colby fanfic #colby fanfiction #colby brock imagine #colby brock x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #colby brock fanfic #colby brock fanfiction #y/n #xplr #traphouse #sam #sam golbach #jake #jake webber #traphousedaily

[malfoymxnor]

𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬

➤ pairing: draco malfoy x reader

➤ requested: yes | no

➤ genre: angst & fluff

➤ words: 1.3k

➤ summary: after the battle of hogwarts, draco finds you injured and takes care of you.

Looking around, you felt as if time was passing you both quickly and slowly at the same time. You had a sense you had been laying on the floor of what once was the Great Hall for quite some time, which had now been turned into an emergency infirmary by Madam Pomfrey. But, you felt like you had only been laying her for a fraction of a second. 

You only knew you had to have been laying here for a while because with what little energy you had left, you used it to stay awake. You feared that if you closed your eyes, you wouldn’t be able to open them. Out of the corner of your eyes, you watched many people pass by. You watched the Weasley family mourn over the loss of Fred. You could distinguish heads of red hair bowing their heads, whispers and cries of disbelief in the air. You weren’t particularly close to the family, but you couldn’t help but mourn as well in your corner of the room.

So many have died in a matter of hours, all because of Voldemort and his band of supporters. The only one of his supporters you held any sympathy for was Draco Malfoy. You had known him the entire time you have been at Hogwarts. In the last three years, you became close with the Slytherin Prince and started seeing each other romantically. However, starting in his sixth year, he had pulled further away until you had nothing of him left except memories. Now you understood why. 

Almost as if he could read your mind, you heard footsteps entering the large room. You looked over, you immediately could identify his black leather shoes as soon as you looked over, despite not having enough energy to even look up. In hushed voices, you heard Madam Pomfrey and Draco discussing.

“You have a lot of nerve showing up here, sir.” Pomfrey practically hissed at him. You couldn’t even see her, but you knew there was a scrawl on her face and was urging him out of the room.

“Madam Pomfrey.” Draco held his ground and his feet were tied to the ground, despite the woman dismissing him. “I’m not looking for trouble, alright? I wish to check on Y/N, then I’ll leave.”

She must have been feeling generous today because next thing you knew, you smelled Draco’s cologne as he knelt beside you. The smell of smoke and blood masked his cologne, but of course, the man still was presentable in times of war. 

“Y/N..” He whispered softly, attempting to get your attention. He must have been able to tell you had little to no energy left. You felt a coolness on your cheeks as he lifted your head until your eyes met his icy ones. So much pain was in those eyes. You knew then that he held so much regret for everything he has done. He has regretted leaving you with no answers, joining the Death Eaters because of his family. You felt like you could look into those eyes forever until you felt pain.

A soft hiss escaped your lips as it seemed your brain was finally registering the injury to your right leg. Draco’s eyebrows furrowed, and he looked down, realizing that you were injured. Your knee high sock usually covering your leg was rolled down to your ankles and a deep cut covering your knee to your middle lower leg was bleeding. Madam Pomfrey had stitched your leg to stop most of the bleeding, but the injury looked much worse than it was. 

“Jesus, did Pomfrey run out of bandages?” He whispered and rolled his eyes. Even in times of war, he was still Draco and complaining, you thought to yourself.

Without another second spared, you felt yourself being lifted into Draco’s toned arms. “Draco, what are you-” You spoke, but he shushed your words until you both were safely out of the infirmary and into one hallway almost practically destroyed.

He replaced his quick run with a slow pace as he walked through the corridor. You only saw glimpses of the hallway, but you recognized he was taking you to the Slytherin dorms. 

“Don’t worry, Y/N.” He suddenly said aloud, startling you as you were deep in thought of the events of today. “I understand you might hate me ever since sixth year. Maybe I deserve such treatment after all the pain I have caused. But please, give me a chance to at least fix a little of the pain.”

It was uncommon to hear Draco Malfoy apologize for anything; it left you speechless. All you could do was nod and close your eyes, trying to gain some rest while Draco carried you up the stairs that barely existed.

Thanks to the Slytherin common room and dorms being in the dungeons, most of the space had been spared in the war. While furniture and paintings were destroyed and thrown around, the room was still standing. You opened your eyes as he could walk into the room without saying a password, as the woman usually in the painting had disappeared and the room was unprotected.

Draco pulled out his wand, holding you in just one arm. He looked around the common room frantically, ready to defend himself in case there was anyone remaining. With the coast clear, he carried you up the winding stairwell to where his previous dorm was before he had been forced to resign to join the Death Eaters.

You opened your eyes, and a small smile appeared. “I remember this room clearly, don’t you?” You whispered against his chest, looking up at him. He looked at where his bed used to be, a small smirk appearing on his pale face.

“Clearly, Y/L/N. I haven’t forgotten those nights one bit.”

Before you could ask why exactly we were in his old dorm room, he opened the door to a private bathroom and sat you down on the edge of the sink. The man opened the bathroom cabinet, pulling out a towel and bandages.

Without saying a word, Draco knelt down and cared for your injured leg. After cleaning up the area, he wrapped the bandage around your leg. When he finished, he looked up at you, gently kissing a spot on the bandage. “Better?”

“Yeah.” You smiled softly, allowing yourself to finally take a deep breath. This was the first private moment you had to yourself since the battle had begun.

Suddenly, everything had hit you. Flashbacks of the battle had replayed in your head. You remembered watching Draco walk over to Voldemort’s side, despite you reaching over to hold him back. Seeing so many of your classmates and friends die before your eyes. Tears had formed in the corners of your eyes, which rolled down your face as a quiet sob escaped your lips.

“Darling.” Draco’s face saddened as he got back on his feet, realizing you had cried. “I’m so sorry.” That was all he could muster to say, as a feeling of extreme guilt had come over him.

All you could do was pull him in closer, hugging him as tightly as you could. You may not fully understand why he did what he did. You’ll never forget what you have seen today. But throughout all the years, Draco was your best friend and eventually, lover. 

Draco was just 17 years old, but you could see the little boy inside him now. The 11-year-old who just wanted his family’s approval, no matter the cause. The boy who had no choice.

#harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #hp #hp imagine #hp imagines #draco #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n

[just6f]

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[beskarberry]

Krayt’s Teeth

Bargaining with Beskar, Chapter 3 (The Mandalorian x f!reader)

The sound of crashing and shouting was hot on your tail, the other hunters had followed you and were gaining fast. You saw a light rapidly approaching ahead of you, and the two of you burst out into the brilliant daylight to the worst possible place: a dead fucking end.

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 6.7k

Content warnings: Canon typical violence, killing in self defense, headcanon angst, FLUFF, sensory deprivation, body worship, oral sex (f receiving).

A/N: These are my headcanons regarding Mandalorian culture in terms of sex, I didn’t find much lore on it so whether it’s accurate or not idk but I like them and that’s all that matters! Enjoy~

<-Previous Next->

You could have slept forever, even on that horrible little cot you were so comfortable that you could have been out for days, but the only one on it was you. You did’t know when Mando got up from the tiny space you both shared through the night, or how he managed to get out from your tangled bodies without waking you up. You opened your eyes to tiny green baby hands tugging at your fingers. 

“Hey booger, is it time for breakfast? Where’s your papa?” You started to sit up, but the horrible sticky mess underneath you made you reluctant to move, a mix of passion and pain from the day before. “Yikes. I’m gonna run all his water out if I have to keep using the fresher. Come on, let’s get scrubbed up.” The baby gibbered excitedly at you, though you weren’t sure how much of what you said he actually understood. You scooped him into your arms without looking back at the sad little cot and all its stains. “You’re water proof, right?”

The ship’s engines were rumbling away, so you guessed tin man was up in the cockpit flying you towards your next bounty. Or Nevarro. You would have to find Mr. Mystery later, the grossness that was you had to be dealt with. Between you and the child your shower took forever, the two of you getting water and soap bubbles from top to bottom. You didn’t care. You had been on Tatooine for months without having a real shower, being consigned to the sonic freshers that vibrated the sand off of the moisture farmer’s bodies; and this was the second real shower you’d gotten to have in twice as many days. You spent a good deal of time trying to get your chatty friend to hold still long enough to be dried off, the little fart squealing with joy every time you went for him with the towel.

An ordeal later you were both fresh and presentable, but your host was still nowhere to be seen, though the ugly sheets had thankfully disappeared from view. The ship was quiet now, without the engine running you knew you had to be back on the ground, and you could hear a distinct hum of activity coming through the walls. Space port? He flew us into town? The thought was replaced immediately with a rich, savory smell coming through the air vents: FOOD! Your gut grumbled loud enough to resonate through the cabin and earn you a confused look from the baby. When was the last time you really ate? You’d been living on ration packs for the last couple of days. That was going to change right now.

“Ya hungry buddy? Me too! Maybe that’s where your dad is, hmm?” Grabbing your old backpack and hooking the baby under your arm you started punching buttons on the wall to get the door open, sending walls sliding and cabinets opening before you got one of the access ramps open. Bright double sunlight nearly blinded you, and on reflex you covered the baby’s giant googly eyes. It took a moment for your own to adjust to the radiant light of the Tatooine morning, and the smell of cooking food hit you like a ton of bricks, making your mouth water. As your eyes adjusted you were able to take in your surroundings: though it was bright outside you were parked low inside a maintenance bay, the walls of which soared high above you; littered with engine parts and humming with droid activity. Sound was the last input your hungry brain could process, but when it did you didn’t like what you heard. The sounds of an argument echoed around the hangar, high and shrill.

“I already told you, you can’t park here! You’re bad for business!”

“I just need to park here long enough to get supplies.”

“Well you’re gonna have to pay up, Mando! I’m not running a charity here! You got credits for supplies you got credits for parking! Up front this time!”

Oh no.

Of all the mechanics and docking hangars in Mos Eisley he had to pick this one. The fireball of a woman barely came up to your partner’s chest, but she made up for it with unbridled fury; and the giant cooked animal leg she was swinging around like a club between bites made her look even more formidable. She noticed you coming down the ramp and stopped grilling your comrade long enough to glare daggers through your skull.

“Oh NO! No nope nuh uh! You can turn right back around and get back on that ship, missy! I knew it! I knew you were bad for business, Mando! What’re you doing running around with her? I hope she’s your bounty because she’s your problem!”

“Peli.” Your words were cold as ice, but the squirming baby in your arms took all the malice out of your stance. He wiggled until you set him down, and he ran towards the mechanic with open arms.

“Baby! You can stay but your dad’s gotta take the mean lady somewhere else! She cheats at sabacc!”

“You lost fair and square, Peli! Try playing a better hand next time!”

“Ladies please!”  Mando cut through your bickering, holding his arms up between the two of you like he was trying to corner a pair of wild blurgs. “If I let the child stay with you for the day, will you let me park the Razor Crest here? Just for a couple hours?”

Peli bounced the child on her hip, offering him a bite of her breakfast. The baby squealed happily while he sank his little teeth into the mighty snack, though the size of it comically dwarfed his itty bitty hands. “I’ll tell you what, you let me keep him and then maybe I’ll let you park here in a week.” Mando cocked his helmet at her with disdain and she huffed loudly, “Well if you put it that way, I guess you can park here, but you gotta put five hundred credits down, and not a cent less!”

Mando reeled, stabbing his hands to his hips with indignation. “Five hund- absolutely not! What am I going to buy our-” You interrupted his tirade with a hand on his shoulder, waving a slew of credits in front of his eyes. Peli snatched them out of your hand, fanning them out like cards to count them.

“Who’d you cheat these outta?”

“Don’t worry about it.” You leaned casually against your metal man, eyeing Peli with a smug look on your face. “Let’s go, Mando. Bye baby green bean, have fun with Auntie Cheats-at-Sabacc!” You spun him around by the hand and dragged him towards the exit, ignoring the insults being slung at your back. “We are getting breakfast and that’s final!”

The Mandalorian allowed you to pull him along a few feet before grinding his heels into the sand, shaking his head. “You have to stay here.”

Now it was your turn for sassy head tilts. “I just paid for your parking, buckethead, that makes me in charge and I’m hungry! I’ll buy you breakfast too if you want.” He didn’t budge, fixing you with that intense stare of his and grabbing you by the shoulders.

“You are still being hunted. Mos Eisley isn’t safe for you.”

Ah.

You knew you could look after yourself, and he himself had compared you to a ferocious rancor just yesterday. You groaned loudly, “Shit balls of hell. But dad, I’m huuunngry!” The man bristled at your paternal harassment, sighing heavily and letting his helmeted head fall to the side like the world was ending. He glanced around the hangar exit, his shiny beskar snapping to each object of interest until he located a protocol droid corpse that was missing everything from the waist down. He strode over to it and held it down with one boot, yanking it by the head until it popped off. He began prying the droid’s vocorder apart at the mouth, pulling it wide until the droids face plate broke off with a snap! Tossing the rest of the logic processing unit to the ground, he held the face plate up to the light, inspecting the clarity of its photo receptor casings. He bent back down to the junk pile and fished out a stray wire to thread through the ruined audio processors, then tossed the finished creation to you.

“Put that on.”

You turned the makeshift mask over in your hands to check for sharp edges before you pressed it to your face. The bug eyes on the front were dirty, but you could see well enough. Before you could clean them more thoroughly you felt the weight of fabric on your head, his cloak now worn as your own. The thought of how you must look made you giggle. “You make me take my clothes off, now you want me to put clothes on. It never ends with you, Mando. Next you’ll be forging me beskar. Now can we eat something, please?” Without a word the armored man turned on his heel and walked out the hangar exit. I’ll take that as a yes.

Mos Eisley buzzed with life, people and animals and things you couldn’t explain made their way up and down the bustling streets. The smell of food led you to a vendor selling something that could have been a root vegetable, covered in herbs and spices and grilled to perfection. You couldn't wait, all thoughts of self-preservation went out the window as you hauled ass to the stand, waving two fingers in the air. When you had both of your prizes in hand you stuffed the savory veggie under your mask, sighing contentedly at the taste of real honest-to-Maker food. “Hey tin man, I hope you like... whatever this-” You turned to offer your partner something to eat, but he had disappeared from the crowd. “Alright... more for me.”

Taking a newspaper from the vendor you wrapped the extra snack up tight and threw it in your pack for later, continuing to chow down on your own. You would find Mando eventually, and you had credits to spend. You had held onto your hush-money for months to avoid suspicion, but now it was burning a hole in your pocket. Wandering the streets of Mos Eisley from merchant to merchant you began accumulating a small hoard of supplies, ranging from bacta to hand tools, and food. Whatever you could get your hands on that would survive hyperspace when you inevitably left this fucking dirtball for good; though you still weren’t convinced that you wouldn’t be making that flight in carbonite. You picked out new clothes and underwear, a much-needed bedroll, and some soft bantha-wool blankets. Something further down the marketplace caught your eye, and you made your way to the fancier items that glittered in the double daylight. You didn’t wear jewelry yourself, a poor choice of attire for a hunter, but the way the trinkets caught the light still made you wistful. Your hidden eyes danced over the glittering treasures; jewels and geodes that had been found deep in the sands and polished to a radiant shine.

You spotted something opalescent at the end of one table and found a pair of krayt teeth, each about the size of your palm. They had been sanded to a smooth, flat finish and carved with intricate desert patterns. The backs of them had tiny fittings that could be sewn on as buttons, or pulled off to reveal magnets. Something about their shape seemed familiar, though you couldn’t imagine why in that moment. You purchased the unique pieces anyway, something to remind you that even the harshest of places could hold hidden beauty. After a while you had so much junk piled in your arms that you could barely see over it, and tin man was nowhere to be found. You spotted a courier droid and paid for it to deliver your treasures back to Hanger 3-5, though you kept the pricey teeth in your pockets. With your arms free you started looking for your missing comrade.

The streets were busy with people, you would have to get somewhere out of the way in order to scan the crowds. Your eyes went from shimmer to shimmer, looking for his reflective chrome dome. “Big jerk,” you mused to yourself “‘Mos Eisley’s not saaafe...’ If he’s so worried then where the hell is he? Bah!” The scratched-up photoreceptor casings of your mask made it a challenge to see through the crowd, and you took a moment to adjust the iris apertures so you wouldn’t have to keep squinting into the double sunshine when you felt a hand on your back. Finally. “Mando, where have you-”

“Mando? Whos’sis man-do? Nah sssweetheart, I think you got me confused wi’ sssomeone elssse.” The slithering voice in your ear made your blood run cold. Not Mando! You rocketed your elbow backwards, connecting with the gut of the stranger on your back with an -oof! The hand let go long enough for you to make a run for it, and you tore off down the streets of the busy spaceport, smashing into bystanders in your wake. You cast a quick look behind you to see a large reptilian body flying after you, brownish scales catching the reflection of the noonday suns. Though you had your blaster, the risk of hitting a civilian was too great, so running would have to do. You were thankful for the courier droid that had freed your hands just minutes before as you barreled down the busy streets.

Market stalls flew past you, your boots kicking up sand and dust. The mask on your face, as dirty as it was, kept the debris from your eyes as you raced through the sunburnt city. You had to lose this fucker and fast. You turned down an alley, left, right, another right, leaping over supply crates and low fences like a lothcat. You turned to see if you had lost your chaser, breath heaving and heart pounding. Behind you was clear, but you took your eyes off your path for just a second too long, and were taken by surprise when a heavy weight fell on you from above.

The Trandoshan had gone over the low sandstone roofs, chasing you easily through the alleyways of Mos Eisley while you were none the wiser. He pinned you under him quickly, ripping your blaster off your hip and pointing your own barrel in your face. “Tha’ss enough, princesss! Nice n’ quietlike now. You gonna make me a pretty penny you are.” The lizard’s words dripped with metaphorical venom, though you were sure by the look of those fangs that real venom was probably right behind. “Ahm gonna cart yer arse right back to th’ Guild’n I’ll become th’ most famous hunter in th’ galax -urk!”  With a sickening gag the hunter above you grew a shiny new fang in the back of his throat before falling down dead on top of you, a vibroblade protruding from back of his skull.

“Took you long enough!” You hollered at your chrome companion, who was stepping forward to kick the carcass off of you. “Where the fuck have you been? Getting your rifle polished?” He pulled you to your feet, handing you your blaster while readjusting the mask on your face. You swatted at his fussing hands, but when you looked at him you were shocked to see not one but three blinking bounty fobs dangling from his belt. On the ground by the dead lizard was a fourth, flashing rapidly in the sand.

“I told you you weren’t safe! We need to leave right now.”  You were barely able to grab the remaining bounty fob while you were being tugged away by your allied hunter. He had a death grip on your hand, pulling you along behind him towards what you hoped was the docking hangar. You would have to cross the main street to get there, and as the pair of you plowed across the dusty, busy road there came shouts from either side. More hunters, fucking Guild! You didn’t have a single second to assess them before you were lead through an alley on the other side of the street. These were darker than the ones you had run through on the west side of town, and shady bodies moved quickly out of the way of your living locomotive.

At the end of a narrow alley you both burst through a door leading into an abandoned building. The darkness was almost worse than the blinding sunlight, you would need time for your eyes to adjust but the Mandalorian had enough sensory detection equipment that he ghosted through the ruinous building with ease; never once letting go of your hand as you tripped and stumbled through the dark. The sound of crashing and shouting was hot on your tail, the other hunters had followed you and were gaining fast. You saw a light rapidly approaching ahead, and the two of you burst out into the brilliant daylight to the worst possible place: a dead fucking end.

“There! Get down!” Mando pointed at a pile of rubble, probably big enough to hide behind, but that’s not how you handled business.

“Fuck you! I’m not going down without a fight!” You pulled your blaster out and aimed at the incoming assailants. He growled at you and stepped closer, putting his body in between you and the door. The reptilian hunters burst from the darkness of the warehouse, firing rapid shots of blaster charges that bounced off of Mando’s beskar. You fired over his protective arm, taking out the first one and tripping up the second, who fell over his cohorts limp body. Mando took shot after shot to the chest, reeling with each impact. His other arm cocked back and shot out, sending a wall of fire into the last of the Guild’s hired guns.

Both of you were panting, shaking and sweating from flying through Mos Eisley, but the sound of blaster fire would draw attention and you knew there was no time to waste. You stepped over the incinerated corpse, making sure the fob it carried was melted, the second body still squirmed in the dirt, and you weren’t going to let it get a second chance, firing your blaster through it’s scaly skull. You picked the remaining two fobs and stuffed them in your pockets, making a run for it back through the building with Mando right behind, the blaze of his flamethrower lighting your way.

You took a different door out of the building and were relieved to see the words ‘HANGAR 3-5′ painted in bright blue Basic straight ahead. You skittered through the entrance, rounding the corner and dropping down behind the edges of the hangar doorway. Mando did the same on the other side, both of you pointing your blasters back towards Mos Eisley’s dark heart. Bootsteps behind you made you snap around, and you nearly shot your mechanically inclined host.

“You kids have fun out there?” Peli stood over where you were hunched, and you lowered your blaster to the ground. At her feet your little buddy was holding onto her pant leg, making big puppy dog eyes at you. You looked over to Mando to make sure there weren’t any more coming, but he still held his blaster out ahead. After a few tense seconds he lowered it down until it was back in its’ holster, then pulled himself to his feet.

“We can’t stay any longer, we’re putting you in danger. Time to go, kiddo.” His charred beskar still shimmered when he bent down to pick up his adopted son, who chirped with delight. “Thank you for watching him.”

“He can stay any time! Oh and thanks for all the snacks you made that droid bring me!” Peli called after the three of you as your party quickly boarded the Razor, making you turn around and stick your tongue out at her. She happily flipped you off and started closing the ground entrance to the bay, letting you board the ship uninterrupted. Fortunately, the courier droid’s delivery had made it to the ship, though you couldn't help but notice a few of your most carefully picked snacks had been taken as collateral. Fucking Peli. As much as she infuriated you, there wasn’t another person on all of Tatooine that you would rather play sabacc with.

The old rust bucket rumbled to life, taking off into the midafternoon sky and pointed towards the stars. Finally! Bye motherfucker. The hazy atmosphere of the outer rim planet fell away below you until the light of the bright yellow world illuminated the Crest’s stern. The pre-Imperial scrapheap started howling with noise, and you were almost thrown to the deck when it blasted into the safety of hyper space.

Your heart was still racing and you struggled to catch your breath. Once you had yourself in order you started busying yourself with putting the supplies away, filling the food larder to capacity. The child was contentedly telling you about his day with his auntie in his cute baby gibberish, and you picked him up off the ground to give him a much needed hug, pushing your stolen identity onto the top of your head to give him kisses. You almost wanted to ignore the sound of heavy armored boots hitting the floor panel under the ladder, their wearer opting to jump down from the cockpit rather than climb. You could feel the fury coming off of him as he stalked over to where you were sorting your treasures.

“You could have been hurt! I knew it was a bad idea to let you go wandering around, even with your face covered. What if they’d caught you? I picked three of them off before you even saw one!”

“I had it under control, Mando! I’m not some princess that needs you coming to her rescue at every sign of a struggle. And you don’t get to let me do anything, you don’t own me!” The man under your scrutiny paced the cabin on stiff legs with his hands on his hips, helmet snapping with rage.

“I know you can handle yourself, but I need to protect you.” He said with a huff, “And that lizard was... he had you pinned down, had his filthy, scaly claws on you... Nobody should touch you like that! What if.. what if he... I- I- didn’t like that he was...” Listening to the sound of the gears jamming in his head made you realize the ridiculous thing he was trying to say.

“Are you.. Mando are you jealous?”

“No! I- I’m.. Cyar’ika I... ”

Oh no, you don’t get to be cute right now. “I don’t know what that means, Mando! What is that, some kind of sexy little pet name you use on all the girls you take underneath of you?”

“NO! I didn’t- I would nev- I’ve never had... There’s never been- no!” Oh how you wished you could see his face, watching him flail trying to defend himself from your accusation, he was probably white as a sheet under all that armor.

“Never what, Mandalorian?”

“I’ve never had anyone in this ship before!” The Mandalorian’s confession lost steam halfway through as embarrassment and fear crept into his throat, threatening to choke him with his own secrets.

“Wait.. wait wait. Never? You’ve never had anyone in this ship or...” You started approaching him, analyzing his visor for hints of meaning. “Or you’ve never had anyone at all?” The Mandalorian stopped his pacing, but his shoulders looked like they were carrying the weight of the galaxy. His silence told you everything, and the last piece of his puzzle fell into place. “Mando...was I your first?”

“Y-yes.” His visor tilted up to you, hands fidgeting at his sides. His voice was faint and sheepish, a stark contrast to the thunderstorm you were arguing with a moment ago.  Your eyes were full of questions, all racing through your mind so quickly none of them made it to your mouth. The metal man answered them all for you in one singular motion, raising his fist to knock a couple times against his beskar helmet. His creed.

“So, what, you guys aren’t allowed to have sex?”

He sighed his heavy, trademarked sigh and plopped down on the nearest supply crate with a defeated thud, cradling his head in his hands. “No it’s not that. Not... not exactly. In Mando’a the word we use is me'dinuir. It means ‘to give’, specifically to give yourself to another. And... when you give yourself away to someone-“ He turned the black gloss of his single eye up to you, “-you belong to them. That is The Way.”

The weight of his words made your blood cold. He was jealous, but not just because that other hunter had put his scaly hands on you. Everything about his attitude around you suddenly made sense, the way he had looked at you when you were presenting yourself to him that first day, why he never threw you in carbonite when he probably should have, and how he had stayed with you through the night after you nearly died hunting his bounty. His mysterious way of life decreed that giving his body to you meant that he had also given you his soul, and that made you just as important to protect as his foundling.

Mando reached out to pat the fuzzy green head of the baby you were still holding, who gibbered sleepily up at his armor plated papa. “I’m sorry to put that on you, and I’m sorry for how I acted. You’re not my bounty anymore, and I shouldn’t try to control you. I understand if you don’t want to continue with me to the next bounty. You can take whatever you want from the armory when we land next. I’m.. I’m so sorry.” The monolithic man looked so tiny now, sitting on the edge of the crate with his shoulders hunched. He reached his arms out to take his infant son from you, hugging him to his blast-burnt chest and smoothing his massive ears. "I didn’t get to thank you for washing him earlier, he smells really good.”

You desperately needed to know more, though the sight of him fawning over his sleepy son made your heart swell. “I kinda got the feeling that you were rusty when we met, but that was actually your first time? And what does that mean ‘you belong to them’? How can you belong to me? I don’t even know your name.”

"It means that I’m now sworn to protect the one that carries my soul. I’m not asking you to do the same, you’re not Mandalorian.”

His words made you feel sick, ashamed that you had taken something so sacred from him without a second thought, but how could you have known? He could have stopped at any time, you were the one in cuffs that day, not him. No, out of trillions and trillions of sentient beings in the galaxy he chose to give himself to you, knowing full well what his heritage decreed. Why you? Arms crossed, you dug deeper. “You’ve never seen another naked body than your own?”

He shook his head. “Just... holo-vids...”

You were going to have to ask him about those later. “Nothing? You’ve at least kissed someone before though, right?”

“Kissed?”

Maker fucking help you. “Yeah you know, kissing? The thing you do with your... oh, right." You reached up and tapped him twice on the beskar. “You need your face to do it.”

He cocked his helmet at you. “Can you show me?”

The innocence of his question made you melt. Fuck you, tin can, you’re not supposed to be cute when you’re in trouble. You reached your hand out, demanding he give you his, and shyly he obeyed. You pulled his hand to your lips, unsure of how much he could actually feel through his thick leather gloves. You pressed his hand to your lips and watched his whole body snap straight. “Kiss, like that.”

He was staring at his hand like he’d never seen it before, and after a moment he pulled your locked fingers to his head, tapping his forehead with the back of your hand. “Kov’nynir, But we do it with our helmets.”  At this rate you’ll be speaking Mando’a in no time. He still held your hand gently, running his thumb over your fingers. “I think I like your way better. Could... Could you do that again?”

So polite, maybe having him stuck with you wouldn’t be so bad. You pulled his hand back to you, giving him another soft kiss on the side of his thumb, and you heard the sound of his breath catching in his modulator. Your lips pressed to each of his knuckles, and then you turned his wrist to kiss his palm. “How’s that?”

“That’s amazing.”

“You like that? Watch this.” Addressing the bantha in the room would have to wait. You tugged his glove off, revealing the warm bronze skin underneath and kissed him again. The hitched breaths coming out of his modulator were honey to your ears, and you turned his wrist over to kiss his bare palm again, hunting for more sweet sounds. His body was so stiff, so tightly wound you thought he might snap. “Are you ok? Do I need to stop?”

“I- I- want to... Can... Can I try?” You nodded, your heart jumping to your throat at the thought of him removing his helmet in front of you, but instead he gently reached up to the busted droid face you still wore on your head. With a twist of a knob the armatures inside of the eye casings coiled shut, and when he slid the mask down into place you were thrown into total darkness. “Can you see?” You shook your head. “Promise?”

You sighed, long and frustrated. “I promise, dark as a sarlacc’s backside.” You were met with only silence. Then, after what felt like an eternity you heard the sliding sound of metal as the child’s pram shield slid closed, then the shuffle of armor being removed, and lastly the dull thunk of something heavy being set down on the crates. His hand found yours again, and he pressed his lips against your skin. They were hotter than you were expecting, and soft, almost plush. You understood right away why he was so rigid when you were doing the same, it was amazing. Gentle kisses made their way over the back of your hand and made heat flood through your veins. He moved slowly over each joint, following the same pattern you had shown him, then turned your hand over and kissed at your fingertips. Something fuzzy brushed along with his lips, and you imagined that he might have a mustache. The shivers that crept their way up from your captured hand knocked all the strangeness of your conversation out of your mind, but when he reached your wrist he stopped.

“Where else do you kiss at?” You nearly fainted at the sound of his unfiltered voice, a rich baritone that dripped with dark intentions and stole all the words from your mouth. You could only point with your other hand at the forearm attached to the hand he held. Again you felt his lips on your wrist, then slowly, inch by agonizing inch he made his way up your arm, each kiss slower than the last until your toes were curling in their boots. When he reached the edge of the tunic’s sleeve that hung at your elbow he paused again. “Where else?”

“Everywhere.”  Your tormentor hummed at your consenting words and let go of your hand to run his palms down your clothed thighs. When he reached your knees he pulled on their joints, bidding you to bring your legs up over his lap. When you were seated on him he resumed his trek up your arm, kissing at the crease of your elbow and then upwards over your tunic until he reached your shoulder. When he got to your neck you almost buckled over, but his hands were at your back in an instant, wrapping heavily around your waist. Your own hands made their way to the nape of his neck, and your fingers found the edge of his hairline that you had felt before. To your delight you felt that the tousled curls went all the way up, and you tangled your fingers in them, exploring their softness while he explored you.

His journey led him up your neck to the base of your jaw where he nipped gently at the sensitive skin like you had done to him last night, sending a fresh wave of goosebumps from your head to your toes. When his nose bumped the edge of your mask you were suddenly aware of how silly you might look with your big bug eyes. “Can I take this thing off?” you asked in a whisper. “I won’t look.”

“I have a better Idea. Hold on tight.” You dug your hands into his shoulders and felt his arms wrap under your legs as he stood up, lifting you with such ease that you wondered if he felt your weight at all. His boots echoed through the cabin until he stopped at the other end. You hung on for dear life while he climbed the ladder with you still wrapped around his front. When you both reached the top you let yourself unwind from him and scooted on your butt over the floor, listening to the sound of him pulling himself all the way up. You remained seated as your host fussed around the flight deck, the noise of buttons pressing and switches being thrown the only input to your deprived senses.

You were only unattended for a moment, then his hands found your waist, fishing for the edge of your shirt. The tunic was pulled up and over your head, taking your mask with it, and you squeezed your eyes shut to protect his modesty; unsure of what his unconventional oath to you included in the fine print. Your diligence was rewarded with a kiss on your forehead, then down to kiss both of your closed eyes, and then lastly to your lips. The searing heat of his mouth on yours threatened to throw your eyes open, but when they fluttered all you saw was darkness. The transperisteel’s blast shielding had been closed, and the only light in the cockpit came from a handful of illuminated buttons on the dash.

He was lying over top of you on the metal floor, one arm wrapped under your neck for support. The cold decking under you was uncomfortable, but you couldn’t be bothered to care, letting yourself be consumed by his kisses and becoming drunk on the scent of leather and adrenaline. The soft fuzz of his facial hair tickled slightly as he pressed into your lips, and you couldn’t help but smile. Your hands went to his face, running your thumbs over his cheeks and feeling what you weren’t allowed to see. His face was scruffy but not unkempt, and the bristles went all the way from his jaw up to the bottom of the defined nose that bumped against your own. You felt the creases on the corners of his eyes, wishing you could see his smile lines and all the stories they would tell.

You kissed him back, letting your tongue glide over his plush lips and making him inhale sharply. You licked into him again, and this time you were met with his tongue as well, just the faintest touch of its tip. He hummed in your mouth, and the sound of him so close made your belly pool with heat and your kisses bolder, sending your tongue deeper into his mouth until he was almost vibrating with the sensation of you exploring something as forbidden as his human body. He mirrored you as best he could, rolling the smooth muscle over your lips and the edges of your teeth until you were both lost in each other’s taste. He pushed his forehead against yours, pulling his mouth away with frantic breaths that spread fire over your skin. “Everywhere?”

You pushed your lips against his again, giving him an ambitions ‘Mmhmm’ as an answer. His growl made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, and you realized where his goal was. He kissed and nipped his way down your throat, letting his tongue glide over your skin. He made his way to your breast, taking its’ tender tip between his teeth and making you gasp. He sucked at it gently, rolling his tongue around it while it grew harder for his efforts. The hand not under you groped at your free breast so it wouldn’t be ignored.

"Beep!”

An urgent chime echoed in the tiny space, the hyperdrive indicator was flashing its countdown warning: 10 minutes remain.

The Mandalorian’s growl on your breast made your blood turn to ice and your core flush with heat at the same time. He wanted to devour you, taste every single inch of your exposed skin, but time was not on your side; and he became a man on a mission to prove himself worthy of you. Bristles dragged over your skin as he slid down your belly until he hit the edge of your pants. They were yanked off so fast you briefly worried about the krayt teeth that were still in their pockets, but you didn’t have long to think before Mando was poised over the apex of your thighs, kissing at each leg to make his intentions known. Those must be some good holo-vids you’re watching, tinman. You let him push your legs apart with his chin, receiving a soft kiss on each one once they were far enough apart for him to stuff his face in between.

Your back arched, hard, followed by the most ragged moan you‘d ever heard escape your throat. The grip on your thighs kept you in place as he lapped at your clit, sucking and teasing in an experimental way. His inexperience didn’t seem to matter, his hunger for you fueling his efforts and making you squirm in delight. Your hands sought desperately for something to grab onto to keep yourself grounded, finding his lovely curls to bury your fingers in deep. It was all you could do to hold on for dear life, tangling in his hair and struggling to breathe as he worked you into a frenzy.

The noises coming from below your waist were heavenly, wet and greedy in between his hums of contentment. It took you a while to realize they weren’t hums at all, but alien words of worship being prayed at your sinful altar; but the blood pounding in your ears and the gasps from your throat were too loud for you to hear his devotion.

“Beep beep!”  Five minutes remain. Fuck.

The Mandalorian’s efforts doubled, running his tongue almost too quickly in his attempt to eat you alive. You let your hips grind into his mouth, begging him to bring you your release, and it wasn’t long before he succeeded. Stars flashed behind your eyes as you came into his hot open mouth, but he refused to leave until he had drank his fill of you. Eventually he pulled his face away from your spent heat with agonizing slowness, as if he would rather drown than address the impending drop from hyperspace. He kissed at your shaky thighs, your soft belly, and each breast before pressing his lips into your panting mouth, pushing the taste of you onto your own tongue. His breath was ragged, and you could feel the sweat of his brow where it was pushed against your face. 

He lifted away from you, and the weight of the handmade mask was draped over your face, making you groan with the displeasure of your passion being cut short. However, once it was in place, it was almost immediately pushed under by strong fingers to lift its edge, and you were given one last kiss to swear his promise of return to you.

“Din. My name is Din.”

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Heaven Part 1

Here it is! This is part 1 of Heaven! It’s based loosely on (and uses lyrics from) Heaven by Julia Michaels. 

Rating: M for Mature. There’s violence, mentions of blood, reader gets in a pretty sticky situation with a guy who won’t take no for an answer and gets injured but nothing more. Also, mentions of a gun. Next part will be E for Explicit for NSFW stuff 😘

Working at Lennox House as a bartender was no easy task. The men couldn't keep their hands to themselves and catcalled often, every night was busy, and just the sheer nature of the business turned your stomach. But a job was a job and at least you weren't one of the call girls. You had to give a portion of your tips to the club, but you still always made out with plenty of money. A smart move would be to set aside as much as you could and find a new job when you had a good savings, but there was something about Lennox House… something that called to the darker part of you. 

You knew what, or rather who, it was that kept you there, but you buried that knowledge deep within you. 

Late one evening, or really, very early one morning, you were cleaning up the bar following the show. The club was empty, all patrons long gone for the night and the other workers off to bed. Thinking yourself alone, you sang aloud to make the time pass faster. Little did you know, someone was awake and upon hearing you, mosied his way into the theatre to listen. Blue leaned against the wall in the shadows, watching as you wiped down the bar.

All wrapped in one he was so many sins

Would have done anything, everything for him

And if you ask me I would do it again

You sang well, your voice projecting through the open area of the house. It surprised Blue. You were a spitfire, always had been, and it was one of the reasons he hired you as a bartender. You could keep the patrons in check without involving the guards most of the time and were a damn good bartender. But hearing you sing so sweetly made him want you. Licking his lips, he opened his mouth to interject but stopped at the next lyrics that tumbled out of your mouth.

They say, "All good boys go to heaven"

But bad boys bring heaven to you

"Do you want heaven brought to you, Scotch?" He took pleasure in the way you jumped, looking around wildly before your eyes settled on him as he walked towards you. Still in his silk suit, hands in his pockets, he looked exquisite in the darkness of the empty club. You found yourself looking him over appreciatively before you remembered he had asked you a question.

"I'm sorry, sir. What did you ask me?" You watched as Blue smirked, finally reaching the bar. He leaned easily on it and let his eyes roam over you with no shame. 

"I asked… if you wanted heaven brought to you, Scotch?" He purred and you felt your breath catch. 

Blue was gorgeous. There was no doubt about that. You would also bet all of your tips from that night that he would give it to you good. But the real question was could you lay with a man like him? One who only cared for his money? Who beat and even killed people? Your body might be okay with it, but your mind was still very much in control. With a soft sigh, you pulled yourself away from him and grabbed your bag from under the bar.

"Maybe I would but my mama raised me to know better than to deal with bad men, Mr. Jones." The man merely chuckled, watching you.

"If that were the case, you wouldn't be workin for one, sugar." The pet name rolled off his tongue and you had to suppress a shiver.

"Ah, but here's the difference, Mr. Jones. It's one thing to work for a bad man… and another thing entirely to trust him." Blue feigned a hurt look at your words but before he could say anything, you were moving towards the exit. "Have a good rest of your night, Mr. Jones." 

You left Lennox House that night with your shoulders squared and head held high. You wouldn't show Blue the effect he had on you. 

But oh, did he have an effect on you.

~

Over the next week, you barely see Blue. Not unusual but a part of you wishes to see him more. Ever since the night he propositioned you, you can’t help but to wonder what it would be like. To touch him, kiss him, taste him… You shake your head hard to clear your thoughts and get a few strange looks from the patrons at the bar. You just flash them a flirty smile and they let it go, already uncaring that you might be a little crazy. The club was extra busy that night and the men cared more about being served than they did about you. Or so you had assumed until the end of the night when a man approached you, a creepy and salacious grin as his face. Your skin immediately crawled at the sight, and you made sure to stay behind the bar. 

“Hey, sweet thing. Blue says you’re s‘posed to come with me tonight.” He slurred his words hard and was clearly drunk off his ass, but his words had you narrowing your eyes angrily. Blue and you had made an agreement when you took this job. You were not to be bartered to the men.

“Yeah, that’s bullshit. If you’d kindly leave, I’d appreciate it. Don’t make me call the guards.” This seemed to only anger the man who rounded the bar before you could get out and backed you against the back counter. You tried not to gag at the alcohol on his breath and made a mental note to pay more attention to how much customers were drinking.

“You think you’re sooo fucking special, don’t you?” He reached for you, grabbing your arms painfully tight. You fought against him, bringing your knee up into his crotch and punching him hard when he released you. You shoved past him and made a break for it.

“HEL-” Your call gets cut off by a cry of pain as the man caught up to you and yanked you by your hair.

“You BITCH!” He yelled before turning and throwing you back to the bar. You stumbled hard, trying to catch yourself on the shelving only for it to come tumbling down on you and sending you and the bottles to the floor. Glass shatters everywhere and you cry out again as several pieces slice open your skin. 

“What the FUCK is goin’ on here?!” You gasp at Blue’s voice and hear the man start to stutter out some kind of explanation. You manage to shakily stand, looking at Blue with wide, wet eyes.

“This asshole… said you told him I was supposed to go with him and I told him no.” Blue’s eyes darken even more in anger and he growls. 

“Scotch, come here.” You step around the glass as best as possible and over to Blue. You’re immediately shocked as he pulls you to stand behind him and reaches into his jacket, pulling out his gun. 

“Get. Out.” Blue growls. “Get out before I blow your brains out over the fucking floor. And don’t think for a fucking second that you aren’t gonna pay for all of this.”

The man watched Blue with wide eyes before scurrying off, disappearing out of the main area. As soon as he was gone, Blue turned to look at you. You were staring off after the guy with terrified eyes and you didn’t realize you were shaking until Blue carefully set a hand on your shoulder.

“Scotch. Look at me.” Your eyes snapped up to his and you blinked up at him. “You’re safe now. He can’t hurt you anymore, okay? Let’s go get you cleaned up, sugar.”

You let him lead you out of the auditorium, passed all of the rooms, even his office. When he finally stopped in front of a door, it was one you didn’t recognize. He pulled a key from his jacket pocket and opened it, leading the two of you into a bedroom. Blue carefully leads you into the ensuite bathroom and helps you to sit on the counter. He kneels down and roots through the cabinet, pulling out a first aid kit. You can’t help but to raise an eyebrow before laughing. It’s a little hysterical but Blue looks at you in amusement.

“What? Can’t I keep a first aid kit in my bathroom?” He asks, smirking.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I think I’m just finally losing it.” You giggle and he chuckles softly, setting the kit on the counter beside you. He opens it and begins looking through it, pulling out some gauze pads and alcohol. Your laughter dies down as you realize he’s fixing to use those on you.

“Since the glass was technically already in alcohol, can we just forego that step?” You try. The look Blue shoots you is thoroughly unamused and you sigh, accepting your fate. Blue is surprisingly thorough and cleans each of your cuts. Some of them require bandages but none of them are deep enough to need stitches. When he finally finishes, you’re exhausted and all you want to do is sleep. As Blue works on cleaning up the mess you two made, you lean against the wall and close your eyes. You don’t even realize you’ve dozed off until Blue sets a hand on your leg and you startle awake.

“Sorry. I should get out of your hair. Thank you for helping me, Blue. I mean it.” You look up at him from where he’s moved in front of you. He’s biting his lip and seems to be thinking something over. He seems to come to a conclusion when he steps closer to you, placing his hands down on either side of you.

“Stay here tonight.” Your eyebrows shoot up and you look at him in shock.

“What?”

“Stay here. I’d feel better if you didn’t walk home tonight. You can have my bed, I can sleep in my office.”

“I- Blue, I can’t do that. I can’t kick you out of your bed. I can walk hom-

“Scotch, please.” Now you’re really shocked, mouth dropping open as you look at him. He hesitates for a moment before leaning forward and letting his forehead drop onto your shoulder.

“Please stay. Nothing has to happen. Like I said, I’ll even sleep in my office-”

“Okay. But I’m not kicking you out of your bed. I saw it on the way in, it’s big enough for us to share.” You bite your lip, gently squeezing his upper arm. “If that’s okay with you, that is.”

Blue stays where he is for a couple more moments before straightening up and nodding to you. He helps you down from the counter and leads you back into his room. 

“Do you wanna borrow something to sleep in?” He asks, scratching the back of his neck. 

“Uh, yeah. Please” You scrunch your nose up, suddenly realizing your clothes have blood on them. “I don’t want to get blood in your bed.”

“Thanks for that.” Blue chuckles, digging through a couple drawers before handing you a shirt and some sweatpants. You duck back into the bathroom and change, the clothes not quite fitting right but well enough to sleep in. You pad back into the room to find Blue already laying in bed and walk over to turn the light off. You take a deep breath before laying down next to him. The both of you are as close to your respective edges of the bed as possible, trying to give the other the space you think they need.

“Thank you. Again. For everything.” You murmur. You hear Blue shift and something about it helps you settle down yourself.

“You don’t have to keep thankin’ me, Scotch. But you’re welcome. Goodnight, sugar.” 

“Goodnight, Blue.”

The two of you manage to slowly drift off, shifting throughout the night until Blue is curled around you, holding you close to him.

Tag List: @tinygaydemonbby @damerondjarin @pascalz @anetteaneta​ @autumnleaves1991-blog​ @spider-starry​ @iamthe-shadow-on-the-wall​ @aellynera​ @revolution-starter​

#blue jones x reader #tw blood #tw gun #tw violence #blue jones fic #oscar isaac characters

[crescent-woods]

sprint fic - unconventional

[ hello hello i am not dead i still write. i think. this might actually be incomprehensible and stupid, but i’m still going to post it and edit it later or else i’ll forget i ever wrote it. this was written for the @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers sprint prompt  people don’t always say, “i love you.” sometimes it sounds like, “be safe.” “did you eat?” “call me when you get home.” “i made you this.” anyways, here u go please ignore the typos and mess-ups i  k n o w are probably in here :) ]

Marinette and Luka didn’t have the most conventional relationship, even before they were together.

Once Marinette started working at a small fashion studio across town, Luka made her call him when she left and when she got home, just to make sure she was safe. He knew her parents were asleep by the late hours she left the studio, and he didn’t want something bad happening to her. He offered to be one of her ICE contacts as well, just in case something happens or you’re in a dangerous situation and need someone there.

When Luka has breakthroughs in his writing, Marinette makes sure to stop by to bring him warm sandwiches. I mean, there were extras at the bakery! Your apartment is on my way home anyways, so why not bring you a sandwich? And I knew you were probably hungry since you’ve been so busy with your new album. Even though his apartment was definitely not anywhere close to her route, and he knew that the bakery neither had leftovers yet, nor did they make that kind of sandwich. But he didn’t let her know that he knew.

Luka always had a hairband on his wrist for when Marinette lost or broke one. Juleka always forgot hers so it was a habit he had picked up along the way. Just like the bobby pins stuck to his jacket pocket or the mini hairspray in the outer part of his school bag. Sure, it was a habit at this point, but if Luka could do anything to help the women in his life, he would do it.

Marinette had a designated Luka box in her bedroom. She had blue hair dye and all the tools necessary for dyeing, a small bracelet she hadn’t given him yet, guitar strings and a tuner, and a notebook of staff-lined paper. Who knows when he’ll be inspired! I want to make sure that he has whatever he might need if he gets something in his head. 

Luka had a matching Marinette box. Little spools of thread, needles, anything she would need to sketch out a design, and her favorite snacks. In the same way that Marinette understood Luka’s creative muses, Luka understood hers.

Little gifts randomly started appearing around their apartments, but nobody would own up to it. Luka found several items of clothing that he knew had been ripped and ragged, but were now fixed. Sometimes he could spot a small MDC sewn in. Marinette would find new spools of thread in her thread boxes, coupons and gift cards for shops in her wallet, and fancy spices in her cabinets. Things that she knew she hadn’t bought because she rarely had time to shop. Luka was too shocked that Marinette cared enough to fix his clothes to ever comment on it (he didn’t want to embarrass her into stopping). Marinette was so flustered by Luka’s attention to the brands she liked to use that she never asked him why he did it, either.

Both Luka and Marinette had alarms on their phones to check on each other. Reminders to send good morning texts, checking that the other had eaten or gotten up from their work, or to just text and see what was going on. It didn’t feel like an obligation to get that alarm, or like they were going to annoy each other. At some point they had alarms set a few minutes before they knew the other one would call, so they could beat the question and exercise, eat, or drink something before making each other worried. Despite the dangers it posed to her work, she even had a permanent drawer in her desk for snacks and water so she always had the necessities next to her if Luka called outside of their routine phone calls. 

Luka, after living on a boat for so long, knew all sorts of odd skills. Odd skills that he never let Marinette know about until he needed to use them. Like when Marinette complained about the terrible squeak of her work table a few times, until she suddenly came into work after a few days off and the table was as sturdy as if it had been bolted into the floor. No amount of falling, throwing, sliding, or dropping on that table could move it. What did Luka have to say about it? Well, Ma made sure Jules and I knew how to repair things, and it wasn’t that hard of a fix if you know what you’re looking for. As if he hadn’t just solved the biggest problem in her life.

Luka always knew when Marinette was reaching her limit, often before she did herself. He had gotten so good at recognizing her panic-state that he could use his guitar to calm her down. By matching her breathing with his own and playing speedy guitar riffs, before gradually slowing down until they were both breathing deeply and he was strumming slowly. It was a trick he learned when Jules was little; who knew it worked on Marinette, too?

Sure, neither of them had very conventional ways of saying I love you, but it still got the message across, so did it matter?

#pro lukamari #lukanette #lukanette fanfic #miraculous ladybug fanfic #miraculousladybug #luka couffaine #marinette dupain cheng #peachy fics #endgame lukanette #lbsc sprint fic challenge #on one hand dont tell me if u find typos bc then ill feel bad for not catching them #but on the other hadn tell me all of them so i can Fix It lmao #luka x marinette