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000-pawz · 4 months

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drunk in love (bnd legal line) ˚ · .

bnd when they're drunk/when you're drunk , bnd x fem!reader , legal line reactions/headcanons , fluff , some suggestive sprinkles here and there , established relationship

more under the cut!

a/n: thank you for the request anonie! <3 this was so fun to write

sungho ˚ ⋆｡˚

when you are drunk

𐙚₊˚ if you call sungho while you're drunk at a friend's house, he'll be there in record time! he's not letting you go home alone or with someone else. he's going to make sure that you get home safe himself

𐙚₊˚ sungho is the best drunk sitter ever </3 he's making sure you are consistently drinking water throughout the night, getting food into your stomach the whole time (and rewarding you with kisses along the way!), and making sure you don't fall off of a roof or something

𐙚₊˚ at parties, he watches your cup the entire time, placing his hand over the top when you lean in to hug a friend, holding it for you while you go to the bathroom and everything!!! like he does not play about your safety at all

𐙚₊˚ if you start to get a little too out of hand, he knows it's time to take you home </3 and if you complain and pout about it, he'll just sigh and try to give you an incentive to cooperate like getting to steal all of his hoodies for a month (and of course, you give in!)

𐙚₊˚ throws you over his shoulder and carries you away when it's time to go and you're too drunk to walk >< pats your butt when you tell him to put you down lol

𐙚₊˚ helps you change into one of his big t-shirts and spoons you to sleep, pressing soft kisses to the crown of your head, whispering 'i love yous' into your ear until you fall asleep <3

when he is drunk

𐙚₊˚ i see sungho as someone with a pretty high tolerance, so it may take him a few drinks to start visibly showing that he's drunk

𐙚₊˚ the first sign would be how he laughs at everything. full on belly laughs, slapping his knee, falling over and it'll simply be because someone pronounced a word wrong or something >< like that is ijbol king

𐙚₊˚ sungho is an extrovert, yes, but he becomes the extrovert's final boss when he's drunk. he pretty much carries the conversation, but he probably is a little volume deaf too, like he gets really loud and hyper (at least he's cute though)

𐙚₊˚ he doesn't really get emotional, but his emotions are more raw for sure!! he might end up in an argument with someone at some point in the night if he's left alone for too long, so please keep an eye on him!!!

𐙚₊˚ he'll probably want to kiss you a lot. like even more than usual, and that's saying something. you'll be talking with a friend and he'll come up from behind you and slip an arm around your waist before pressing a kiss to your cheek and then he disappears again >< or if you two are just drinking alone, he'll peck your lips literally while you are in the middle of a sentence :C his impulse control is nonexistent when he's drunk like partner pretty so he kiss! it's that simple!

𐙚₊˚ getting home with sungho would be a personal podcast in your ear... he's going to be talking the entire time with exaggerated gestures, recapping his entire lift story because his filter completely disappears when he's drunk!!! and getting him to sleep is even harder </3 he'll be silent for a few minutes before asking you yet another question, so you have to kiss his lips and shush him to sedate him <3

˚ ⋆｡˚ riwoo

when you are drunk

𐙚₊˚ loves when you're all over him <3 sitting in his lap as you laugh with friends, kissing him all over his face, running your fingers through his hair... it makes him so happy

𐙚₊˚ will gladly take pictures of you if you ask! pretends to be your paparazzi like "miss y/n!!! over here!!!" before snapping a picture all dramatically while you pose like you're on the front cover of vogue <3 just silly and fun

𐙚₊˚ if you're under the influence, he'll want to make sure you have the most carefree, stress-free, most enjoyable experience possible! he'll compliment you the whole night so you never forget how pretty you are, makes sure you don't go past your limit, and piggybacks you while holding your heels <3

𐙚₊˚ smiles at you so fondly when you drunkenly ramble to him <3 he gives you the most cartoonish reactions to everything you're saying, and when you realize he's not actually listening and just admiring how cute you are, he just laughs softly and kisses you, urging you to continue

𐙚₊˚ feeds you throughout the night so you don't feel too sick in the morning!! as soon as you take a break from talking, he's putting a cracker in your mouth and telling you to chew lol

𐙚₊˚ very gentle when he lets you know it's time to go home, waiting patiently for you to finish saying goodbye to all your friends (even if it's the entire room of people) <3 after you surprise him with another kiss attack as soon as you step foot inside the home, he manages to get you into bed, removing your makeup for you once you're asleep, treating you like you're a piece of glass </3 he loves you sm

when he is drunk

𐙚₊˚ riwoo brings sweetheart energy to the function like <3 he's not that talkative when he's tipsy, choosing to just observe the scene with a smile on his face. you'll probably have to pull him up out of his seat to get him to mingle lol

𐙚₊˚ as soon as he hits the dance floor though, it's sooooo over!!! his hands will be on your hips as you guys dance, laughing into your ear, hyping you up as you break it down like!!! he'll be really touchy too, holding you from behind as he whispers into your ear, grinding into you from behind just to tease ><

𐙚₊˚ he'll probably eat a lot before drinking so he doesn't get too drunk, but it honestly never works </3 thankfully, he's able to stay pretty level-headed when he's drunk, so you never have to worry too much

𐙚₊˚ when he's drunk drunk, riwoo probably slurs his words a lot, and gets really giggly, and really corny. he'll crack the worst joke you've ever heard and then laugh at it because he thought it was the funniest thing ever (and please indulge him </3 he's too cute to not fake laugh at his jokes)

𐙚₊˚ i see him as the type to turn into jell-o when he gets really drunk. like he'll be leaning on you the entire time because if you let go, he's going straight to the floor. getting him to bed would be an entire workout because he just goes limp randomly and trips on air every three seconds pls

𐙚₊˚ riwoo definitely likes to be babied when he's drunk ^___^ he'll be giggling the entire time as you help him get his shoes off and change into more comfortable clothes like "riwoo, lift your arms up!" and he's doing it with the widest smile on his face (and if you tell him about it when he's sober, he'll be soooo embarrassed </3)

jaehyun ˚ ⋆｡˚

when you are drunk

𐙚₊˚ jaehyun is probably half-concerned/half-entertained the entire time </3 he's laughing whenever you stumble over your own feet, but his hands are quick to steady you to make sure you don't hurt yourself!!!

𐙚₊˚ records you with a big smile on his face when you're dancing on tables, cheering you on the entire time. but if your skirt starts riding up, he's quick to grab you down with his hands around your waist before helping you pull your skirt down <3

𐙚₊˚ taps his cheek whenever he wants a kiss because he knows that you love to kiss him when you're drunk </3 it becomes a game between the two of you during the night, where he taps his cheek randomly and you stop whatever you're doing to kiss him lol

𐙚₊˚ indulges you in all of your drunken activities! if you want to race him down the road barefoot, he's right there with you, his shoes tossed off to the side at the ready mark. or if you want to see who can do the most cartwheels, he wraps his jacket around your waist before the competition starts and then shows off that he can do more than you!

𐙚₊˚ if you're reaching your limit, he gently takes your cup from your hands with a little "alright, that's enough for you" and if you whine, he kisses your nose and goes "how about some water instead, hm?" and you reluctantly agree because he's just so sweet

𐙚₊˚ he's so subtle with the way he cares for you, you barely even notice what's going on. you're too busy having the time of your life to realize that jaehyun has already gotten you home, washed up and changed as you talk his ear off in your drunken haze >< he responds to everything while multi-tasking, making sure you get tucked in on your side just in case before you drift off <3

when he is drunk

𐙚₊˚ jaehyun clingy drunk agenda! he'll always want to have his hands on you in some way, whether it be hugging you from behind, holding your hand, or resting his head on your shoulder!

𐙚₊˚ probably needs to be bodyguarded when he first starts drinking. please do not dare him to do anything because he will do it. and he will prove that he can do it better than anyone has ever seen.

𐙚₊˚ although his energy is usually always at 100%, i think he mellows out a bit when he's really drunk. at first, when he's simply tipsy, he's the life of the party! cracking jokes with everyone, sparking up a conversation with anyone in his vicinity, even he's dancing on tables lol but once he gets really drunk, he gets a little quieter and sticks to your side!! (that's when you know it's time to take him home)

𐙚₊˚ jaehyun can get pretty emotional when he's drunk too. he could probably cry just from thinking about how much he loves you!! you won't even notice that he started to cry until he's sniffling, dabbing at his eyes :< and if you ask him what's wrong, he'll just be like "you're the best thing that's ever happened to me." and you're just like ???<3???<3??? because it'll come out of nowhere lol

𐙚₊˚ if you aren't with him at a party or something, he'll probably text you the entire time. just like paragraphs of how much he misses you, and how he loves you so so so so much, and he'll even send you cute drunk selfies so you know he is safe and having a good time!

𐙚₊˚ jaehyun can get very very needy when he's drunk! you could be chilling at home when he comes back from a friend's house and he'll be all over you, nuzzling his nose into your neck, kissing your shoulder, subtly trying to rub against your leg because he forgets to use his words :<

˚ ⋆｡˚ taesan

when you are drunk

𐙚₊˚ #1 instigator. he thinks that you are so funny when you're drunk >< how you'll do and say literally anything without a second thought and he encourages it even. it's cute to him

𐙚₊˚ like if you get into a rap battle with a random busker on the street, he's throwing imaginary money and tossing in random adlibs like he's a soundcloud rapper girlfriend lol

𐙚₊˚ always has an arm over your shoulder, holding you close to his side because you look so good and he doesn't want anyone to think you are single and try to hit on you! keeps you close to him at all times

𐙚₊˚ nothing really fazes him and he's good at keeping calm. like if you start to throw up, he'll simply hold your hair out of your face and rub your back softly before cleaning you up with a tiny smile. or if you suddenly burst out into tears, he's cooing at you, wiping your cheeks with his thumb, placing kissing on your nose <3

𐙚₊˚ but if you're blackout drunk, way past your limit, he gets really serious >< he'll sit you on the kitchen counter and make sure you drink a bunch of water, his eyes on you like a hawk. he'll rub your knee comfortingly to keep you present, praising you every few seconds for doing so well for him

𐙚₊˚ he'll tease you so much once you're sober, recounting all of the crazy things you did while you were drunk >< and when you start to get embarrassed, he wraps you up in his arms and reassures you that you are still cute to him no matter what <3

when he is drunk

𐙚₊˚ yapper. like. he's going to be talking soooo much!!! just about anything and everything, stumbling and slurring over his words as he recounts how he saw a squirrel earlier that day or something. shares wayyyy too many tmis too

𐙚₊˚ he definitely loosens up more when he's drunk. his composure and attention span goes straight out the window. he's usually pretty composed when he's sober for the most part, but as soon as he gets a few drinks in his system, something in him flips like a switch

𐙚₊˚ please do not let him pick up the karaoke mic oh my... he's going to attempt to have a rap battle with you or try to belt out the highest notes possible. he'll put on an entire show for your whole friend group!!! he might even join in on drinking games and stuff

𐙚₊˚ wanders off easily, so please can an eye on him!! he'll get distracted by every single thing, his feet carrying him away without a second thought >< you might even lose him for an hour, and then find him sitting in the kitchen eating a bag of chips with someone's hat on and a mustache drawn on his face

𐙚₊˚ taesan can get pretty pouty when he's drunk too. especiallyyyy if you're not giving him as much attention as he wants! you could be laughing with some friends and taesan will be sitting next to you with his arms crossed and the biggest kitty pout on his face ever because? why aren't you laughing with him!!!! (pls give him lots of kisses to make up for it!!!)

𐙚₊˚ he definitely has a habit of denying that he's drunk. he'll try to dismiss your help to get him home, or refuse to drink water, and claim that he can do everything by himself. he'll literally be tripping over his own feet as you try to help him into his bed and he'll be like "nooo i'm not drunk! i swear!" and then as soon as he hits the pillow, he's out like a light

leehan ˚ ⋆｡˚

when you are drunk

𐙚₊˚ follows you around like a guard dog the entire night! he knows that you like to run off and do reckless stuff when you get drunk, so he's keeping his eye on you

𐙚₊˚ makes all of your drinks himself and never lets you drink out of the punch bowl <3 you like to joke that he's your personal bartender and he takes the title with pride

𐙚₊˚ if you get really drunk and start getting emotional, he's quick to comfort you, even if you won't remember anything he said in the morning. he's cupping your cheeks, kissing your lips and telling you how much he loves you!!! he thinks it's so adorable when you start crying because of how much you love him, and he reminds you that he isn't going anywhere, ever <3

𐙚₊˚ super gentle with you when helping you wind down for the night!!! he'll remove your make up and help you brush your teeth with a quiet "say ahhh", smiling softly because you are just so cute and he's so in love

𐙚₊˚ lets you space out and stare at his fish tank while he makes you food to eat before you go to sleep so you can get something in your stomach! goes to the other side of the tank and makes a funny face through the glass just to see you giggle

𐙚₊˚ already has hangover medicine ready on your side table with water and snacks if you wake up and need something!!! please thank him a bunch in the morning for how well he took care of you <33

when he is drunk

𐙚₊˚ second highest tolerance i think! he definitely gets drunk quicker than sungho, but it still takes him a bit!!! mostly because no one can tell if he's actually drunk or not with the way he's able to keep his composure

𐙚₊˚ i don't see him as the type to chug a bunch of drinks immediately, probably only nursing one drink for a long time. he knows his limits, and tries to stick to them because he hates being hungover the next day!!! he has to feel good so he can take care of you instead <3

𐙚₊˚ he gets sooo flirty, it's unreal. he'll literally try to talk you up even though you guys are already together!! he'll comment on how good you look, his hand rubbing your thigh, leaning in to whisper into your ear and kiss your neck ><

𐙚₊˚ he gets really soft toward the end of the night, his head resting on your shoulder as he spaces out </3 he'll probably play with your fingers while you converse with your friends, laughing quietly every now and then, but his mind is on an entirely different planet. it's okay though because he knows you'll look after him!!!

𐙚₊˚ gets pretty defiant when he's had one too many drinks lol >< like if you tell him it's time to go home, he'll plant his feet into the ground so you physically cannot drag him away with a teasing look on his face. he might even just take a seat on the floor and look up at you with big puppy dogs eyes because he doesn't want to go yet!

𐙚₊˚ he sobers up pretty quickly and is usually fine by the time you guys get home!!! he'd probably want to shower together before cuddling up to you like a big teddy bear, usually asleep within a minutes, surrounded by your warmth <3

reblogs are greatly appreciated! thank u...<3

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punkshort · 10 months

Text

look what we've become - ch.2

Chapter Summary: Events from Tommy and Maria's engagement party force you to confront your feelings with Joel about the future.

Chapter Warnings: language, alcohol, smut (MDNI 18+), p in v unprotected sex, dirty talk, angst, fear of commitment, talk of pregnancy

WC: 7.7K

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You couldn't have picked a hotter day to host the engagement party. Sweat trickled down your neck as you finished cleaning up your kitchen, cursing yourself the whole time for coming up with the idea in the first place. You straightened up and looked around the first floor, deciding you were finally satisfied with the result before sliding on your sneakers to go find your friend and co-worker, Carrie, outside.

Jogging down the porch steps, you spun your head in either direction before spotting her across the street talking to Julia, one of Jackson's elementary school teachers, and balancing a large box on her hip. They both turned and gave a wave when they saw you approach.

"Hey," you said breathlessly, wiping your forehead with the back of your hand, your skin feeling instantly flush when the sun's rays hit you. "House is all clean, ready to start setting up?"

"Yeah! Julia was just telling me what a fun time her kids had making the decorations, that was such a good idea," Carrie said, flicking her long, blonde hair over her shoulder and fanning the back of her neck.

"It was a great distraction from the heat this week," Julia said with a smile. "I'm glad we could help out. You girls give me a call if you need any help over there, I'll come right over."

"Seth's supposed to come by later and borrow your oven," you reminded her, and she nodded.

You both thanked her and headed back across the street. The original plan had been to have everyone in your backyard, but the amount of people on the guest list grew so large that you decided to just set up tents and tables right in the middle of the street, with your house as the home base for all the food. People would be able to easily filter in and out as they needed throughout the night. All you had to do was hang up the decorations inside and on your porch, as well as set up various tables inside to hold all the food. Seth was providing the majority, but everyone in town wanted to pitch in and help so by the end, it turned out to be a potluck.

Carrie was helping you pin up a huge banner across your porch railing congratulating the happy couple when a few of the men in town arrived to set up the tents, tables and chairs in the street. All of your neighbors supplied whatever they could to the cause: folding tables, patio furniture, camping chairs. It was a bunch of mismatched furniture under tents and umbrellas, but as long as there were enough places for people to sit, that was all that mattered.

"C'mon, let's go sit in front of the fan inside, I'm dying," Carrie told you once you had finished decorating the porch. You agreed, following her inside to grab some water and rest.

"Where's Joel?" she asked you, flopping down on the couch and throwing her leg over the arm while she took a long drink of water.

"He's helping Seth bring all the meat over," you explained, sitting down across from her to catch your breath. "They'll be here in a bit." You had planned the start of the party for dinnertime, hoping the sun would be lower by that point and possibly cooler.

"He's got to be so happy for Tommy," she said.

"Oh, yeah, of course. He probably thought Tommy would never settle down, the way he used to get around at work," you said with a giggle.

"I always forget you three knew each other before the outbreak," Carrie replied. "Seems like a lifetime ago."

"Tell me about it," you said with a sigh. "I think I've lived three lives since then."

Carrie eyed you for a moment, her eyes shining with a playful glint you knew usually accompanied some type of gossip.

"Sooo..." she began, swinging her leg back and forth over the arm of the couch with a smirk. "You think you and Joel are next?"

You sputtered on your water, somehow not expecting her to steer the conversation in that direction.

"What?" you managed to squeak out, your pulse quickening.

"Well, you two have been together for years. Longer than Tommy and Maria. I figured them getting engaged would have gotten you guys thinking about it, too," she said with a shrug.

"No. No, I don't think so," you said, shaking your head.

"Have you guys talked about it?"

"Well... no. But I don't think - um, he's never..." you struggled to finish your sentence, not sure how to verbalize the jumbled mess in your head.

"What? You think he's never thought about it?" Carrie asked, furrowing her brows.

"He was engaged a long time ago and it ended badly, I don't think that's something he's interested in doing again," you finally said, hoping that would put an end to the conversation. You wiped your palms on your shorts, suddenly feeling clammy.

"Well, that doesn't mean anything. He's crazy about you, why wouldn't he want to marry you?"

Your mouth felt dry as you considered her words. With a shaky hand, you grabbed your water and took a long sip. Carrie eyed you carefully, finally noticing your nerves.

"Do you want to marry him?" she asked softly. You looked over at her with wide eyes.

"I... I'm not sure," you finally admitted. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You can't repeat this to anyone, Carrie, I'm serious." She nodded and crossed her heart, sitting upright so she could give you her full attention.

"I love him. More than anything. And I don't want to be with anyone else," you began as she nodded along. "But the thought of marrying him scares the shit out of me."

"Why?" she asked incredulously. You shrugged.

"I can't be sure. I've been thinking about it for weeks and I can't come up with just one answer. I just hope I figure it out before -"

Just then, the screen door swung open and you heard Seth and Joel's voices carrying down the hall. You widened your eyes at Carrie and made a cross over your heart, which she returned with a resolute nod and put on her game face.

"Ladies," Seth said in greeting with a nod as he headed over to your oven, twisting the nobs to preheat it and began to shove covered trays of food inside. You both stood up and entered the kitchen, ready to help. Joel followed down the hall shortly after, placing his armful of food on the counter before turning to you both.

"Looks great out there," he said with a quick kiss to the top of your head. You inhaled deeply, taking in his intoxicating scent: a mix of his sweat and the soap he used that morning. What was wrong with you for not wanting to marry this man?

"I'm gonna take the rest of these across the street," Seth said as he scooped up the remaining trays and slipped his boots back on.

"Thanks, Seth," you called after him as he pushed open the door with a quick wave over his shoulder.

"I was going to head home and get ready, unless you need anything else?" Carrie asked, and you shook your head, thanking her as well. She gave Joel a quick smile as she made her way to the front door. Once she was sure his back was to her, she gave you a look and mouthed we'll talk later before she headed back out into the blistering heat.

"You're fuckin' kiddin' me, right?" Joel asked, a pained expression on his face when you came down the stairs and he saw the dress you had put on for the party.

"What?" you replied, genuinely perplexed as you met him in the kitchen. It was a simple sundress: pale blue with small flowers that fell just above your knee. You adjusted one of the spaghetti straps, feeling self-conscious. It wasn't racy by any means, but the way he was staring made you feel like you were wearing a corset and stockings.

"How am I supposed to keep my hands off you when you're wearin' this?" he murmured, closing the gap between you and wrapping his arms around your waist.

"It's nothing special, Joel," you said with a laugh. "All the women will be wearing dresses, it's hot as hell out."

"It's special if it's on you," he said right before slotting his lips against yours, taking your breath away. He supposed you were right. It was a relatively modest dress, but he couldn't help his reaction. You used to wear dresses or skirts almost every day at the office before the outbreak, but it was a rarity now. One he didn't want to waste.

"Jesus, you're insatiable lately," you teased, giving his chest a gentle shove so you could create some space, knowing full well people would be arriving any minute to set up their dish to share.

"Well, can you blame me?" he shot right back, about to descend upon your neck when the screen door slammed open and shut. He groaned when he heard Carrie and her boyfriend, Jake, call out from the hallway.

"In here!" you replied, giving Joel's hand a quick squeeze before letting it go to greet the first of your guests.

Fortunately, once the sun set, the temperature did seem to drop a few degrees. You and Joel sat at a table with Tommy and Maria, getting small pockets of conversation in between all the well-wishers stopping by to chat and examine her ring. You probably heard the story of how Tommy proposed about twenty times by the time you started your third drink, feeling pleasantly relaxed and pleased at how well the party came together after all the hard work everyone put into it. You leaned back onto Joel's shoulder with a sigh as you listened to Maria tell an older couple how Tommy spilled red wine on the carpet because his hands were shaking so badly.

"You did good, sweetheart," Joel murmured in your ear. "This was real nice."

"Thanks," you said, turning your face upwards to give him a sweet smile. Fuck, he was so handsome. "Everyone pitched in, though. Wasn't just me."

"Yeah, but you organized it all, and that's a lot of work. You made 'em very happy," he said, nodding in the direction of his brother and his bride to be.

You smiled again and took another sip of your drink. He put his own glass down on the table in favor of putting his hand on your knee and giving you a gentle squeeze. You cocked an eyebrow at him and leaned in closer as his eyes briefly drifted down, trying to get a peek at your cleavage.

"What are you up to, Mr. Miller?" you asked quietly, your gaze flicking to his hand on your knee, which was sneakily making its way further up your leg. He shrugged and gave you a sly smirk.

"Just enjoyin' the view," he replied.

The couple Maria was talking to finally walked away, and she directed her attention back to you.

"Now that I think we finally have more than five minutes, we wanted to ask you both something," Maria said, her eyes sparkling as she looked over at Tommy.

"Will you be our best man and maid of honor?" Tommy asked with a warm smile.

"Oh my god, of course!" you exclaimed, jumping up from Joel's grasp to give Maria a tight hug.

"We'd love to," Joel confirmed, standing and giving his brother a firm handshake before you shoved him out of the way to give Tommy a hug. Joel gave Maria a kiss on the cheek and you settled back in your chair, scooting closer to Maria to hear the plans she had already come up with for the ceremony.

Joel clinked his glass of whiskey against Tommy's with a nod before they each took a sip and sat back to watch you and Maria talking animatedly about how she wants her hair to look for the big day.

"So," Tommy began with a knowing look on his face. Joel curtly shook his head to stop Tommy, but he knew you weren't listening.

"I don't know yet," was all Joel said, without Tommy having to finish his thought. "Didn't want to steal your thunder, and all that."

"Bullshit, you're just nervous," Tommy said with a chuckle.

"Ain't no rush. When it's right, I'll ask," he replied with a shrug.

"Well, you know her better than anyone," Tommy conceded.

"Who?" you asked, turning your attention towards the brothers.

"Velvet, the mare Joel's been usin' on patrol lately. She's got a stubborn streak," Tommy said, the lie rolling off his tongue with ease.

"Hm. I can see why they get along so well, then," you said with a wink, pulling a laugh from Tommy and Maria. Joel rolled his eyes at your joke, giving you half a smirk. He not-so-secretly loved it when you teased him.

"You should talk," he said, pinching your arm.

"Hey, Joel. Before I forget. I gotta ask you to come out with me in a few weeks. It's about that new settlement we made contact with a month ago, they wanna meet up and see about trades," Tommy said. "Should only take few days."

You hated when Joel had to leave overnight. You tried to keep your disappointment hidden, but Joel knew you too well. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, tugging you into him and fiddling with the strap of your dress as he spoke to Tommy.

"You got it," Joel replied with a nod. "Someone's gotta make sure you live long enough to make it down the aisle."

Yet another group of people came over to chat with Tommy and Maria, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw Carrie and a few other women cleaning up, so you got up with a sigh to join them. As you were about to walk away, Joel stood up and snagged your hand, turning you around to face him.

"I'm sorry, I know you don't like it when I'm gone too long," he said softly, running his knuckle down your cheek.

"It's okay. I'll just have to entertain myself for a few days," you said dramatically. "But I have no idea what I'll do in that big bed all by myself," you added quietly with a pout. You ran your palms up his chest and reached up to adjust the collar on his button down before looking up to meet his darkened gaze. "Do you have any ideas, Joel?" you asked innocently, batting your lashes.

The grip he had on you tightened and he opened his mouth to reply when Julia interrupted, calling your name from a few tables away.

"Do you have any extra Tupperware?" she had asked, and you wiggled out of Joel's grasp before replying.

"Sure do, I'll meet you guys inside and help pack up all the food," you said, walking over to pick up any empty plates you could manage before following her into your kitchen, his eyes glued to the way you floated around the party until he lost sight of you.

As the night wore on, many of the older couples and families with young children filtered home, leaving about thirty or so people behind closer to midnight. You wondered how the town was going to function tomorrow, collectively hungover, as you gratefully accepted another glass of wine from Carrie and plopped on your couch. The men all ended up congregating outside on the porch or backyard, whereas the women all elected to stay inside.

You were listening to one of the girls drone on about a terrible date she had with one of the newer guys in town when the screen door whipped open loudly, followed by boisterous laughter from what sounded like the rest of the men, likely bored with being outside alone.

"Ladies!" Tommy called out drunkenly, arms spread wide with a beer bottle dangling from his fingers. His hip nudged one of your kitchen chairs, the legs scraping on the floor as he made his way over to Maria.

"Oh, great," Maria said, rolling her eyes, but you could see the corners of her mouth turning up into a smirk as Tommy leaned over behind the couch to wrap his arms around her.

Everyone else followed him inside, and suddenly your quiet little sanctuary was filled with loud laughter and shouting as a few men in your kitchen had a very lively argument over sports teams that no longer existed, while others wandered around the living room to try their luck with some of the women.

You stood from the couch, the conversation you all were having earlier effectively over, as you pushed through the bodies of people suddenly filling your home. As you made your way to the bathroom, your eyes darted around, trying to find Joel, but you couldn't see or hear him anywhere.

With a sigh, you snuck into the bathroom and locked the door behind you, enjoying the quiet for a moment. You checked your reflection in the mirror when you were done using the bathroom, smoothing down your hair but the humidity from the day made it difficult, before unlocking the door.

You stumbled back when the door pushed open from the other side, the yelling, and now, music, filling the small room briefly before the door quickly closed again.

Joel's lips were on yours before you could blink, the heady taste of whiskey on his tongue as he sloppily licked into your mouth. His hands greedily reached down to squeeze your ass, bunching your dress up a bit in the process.

"Joel!" you managed to gasp before his mouth devoured yours again, pushing you back against the sink while your fingers gripped his shirt for balance.

"Fuck, need ya so bad 'n all these people won't fuckin' leave," he slurred, his lips nipping at your jaw. Heat bloomed between your legs at the hungry way he grabbed and kissed you, like he couldn't stop himself.

"You're drunk," you said breathily, tipping your head back.

"So are you," he mumbled, and you couldn't stop the lazy smirk that spread across your face. He had you there.

His hands slid down to lift up the back of your dress, his palms caressing the exposed skin of your ass and your lacy underwear before he squeezed, making you squeak.

"We have guests, Joel," you said as his lips made their way down your neck, his tongue leaving soft licks as he went. He pulled you close, pressing his hips against you so you could feel the hard outline of his cock against your stomach.

"D'ya want me to stop?" he asked, pulling his face back a moment to search your eyes. You stared up at him, panting slightly as you thought about it. His eyes were dark with lust, lips and cheeks flush and hair tousled as he waited for your answer. You shook your head.

"We need to be fast," you whispered, and he pounced on you immediately. His fingers wrapped around your jaw, holding your mouth open so he could plunge his tongue inside, swirling and flicking around yours with a groan.

"Turn 'round," he ordered gruffly while also spinning your body around to face the mirror. You watched his reflection with bated breath as he hiked your dress up and hooked your panties to the side. His ankle nudged yours so you would spread your legs wider, and you could feel the dampness at your core from the excitement. He dipped a finger along your folds while his other hand worked on his belt and jeans, inhaling sharply when he realized how wet you were already. His eyes flicked up to find yours in the mirror and he grinned, stroking his cock.

"Are you going to tease me or fuck me?" you asked, pushing your hips back against him.

"Think you did enough teasin' tonight for the two of us," he said, lining himself up before grabbing your hip. "Walkin' 'round in this dress, with these legs 'n this ass," he let his hand slide from your hip to squeeze your ass again as if to emphasize his point. "Guess that just leaves one thing."

He slammed into you hard with a grunt, knocking the air from your lungs as he buried himself inside you with one quick thrust. You bit down on your lower lip to keep from crying out, only a small whimper escaping while you focused on the delicious sting as you adjusted around him.

"Fuck, that's good," he gasped, looking down where you were connected so he could watch his cock as he shallowly thrusted in and out, giving you a few minutes to acclimate. Your head fell forward between your shoulders with a soft moan, gripping the edge of the sink as he pushed inside you over and over, the room filling with small gasps and groans from you both.

"Right there," you mumbled when he readjusted and found the angle that made you see stars. "Fuck, Joel, don't stop," you said with a whine, squeezing your eyes shut as the top of your head began to bump against the mirror with each snap of his hips.

His hand left your hip and came up to wrap around your hair. He gave it a firm tug and tipped your head back, your eyes flying open in surprise as you met his gaze in the mirror.

"Watch," he ordered, his jaw clenched as he continued to slam into you. "Watch how good you take me, want you to see what I get to see every time I fuck this perfect pussy," he muttered in your ear. You groaned, the filth pouring from his mouth driving you wild, the muscles in your stomach tensing as your orgasm built up.

He nibbled at your earlobe as he stared at you in the mirror, his thrusts coming so fast that your hip bones felt bruised already, but you pushed through it, relishing the idea of having a physical reminder of this moment for the next few days.

"See how lucky I am?" he continued while his other hand traveled down to rub messy circles over your clit, making your jaw fall open. "Look at you, look how wrecked you get from this cock." He wasn't wrong. Your eyes were glassy, either from the alcohol or unshed tears, you weren't sure. Your cheeks were flushed and lips swollen, hair an absolute mess now that Joel's fingers were tangled in it.

"Joel," you whimpered as you felt yourself clenching around him, right on the edge of release.

"I'm right here, I got you, c'mon, give it to me," he said with a grunt, his own climax quickly approaching. You slapped your hand over your mouth to stifle your low, drawn out moan as you came, your arousal soaking his cock and your head falling back on his shoulder.

"That's it, I got you," he whispered in your ear, your orgasm still rippling through you. "Fuck, so pretty when you come," he panted, his hips stuttering before he wrapped his arms around you, tightly holding you against his chest. He sunk his teeth into your shoulder as he came with a loud groan, your body hardly doing anything to muffle the sound.

With the back of your head still resting on his shoulder, your eyes slid shut, enjoying the afterglow for a few moments while his body shuddered behind you and his grip loosened.

Joel kept his hands on your arms to steady you as he pulled out, a curse leaving his lips in the process. He tucked himself back into his jeans with one hand, then met your eyes in the mirror.

"Can ya stand?" he asked you softly. You nodded and took a deep breath, unrolling some toilet paper to clean up the mess between your legs before fixing your underwear and dress.

You straightened up and looked at him leaning against the bathroom wall, watching you with a smug look on his face.

"You're an animal, you know that?" you said, pressing yourself against him with your chin resting on his chest and your arms around his waist.

"You love it," he replied before cupping your face in his hands and giving you a firm kiss.

The sound of a glass bottle breaking and a collective roar of taunts erupted from your kitchen, pulling you both out of your daze.

"Goddamnit, Tommy," Joel muttered, pushing himself off the wall to open the door. You heard him jokingly berating his brother as you quickly ran your fingers through your hair, making yourself look less fucked before rejoining the festivities.

The sun beamed through your curtains, brightness flashing across your eyelids, contributing more to the pounding already in your head. You buried your face into your pillow, willing the sun or the pain to cease before you were forced to get up for the day. Joel had already left early that morning for patrol, something you thought was cruel considering he was about to leave for the trip Tommy mentioned a few weeks ago during the party the very next day.

With a groan, you pushed yourself up, squinting to minimize the impact from the sun as you stumbled into the bathroom in search of something to numb the pain. Popping two white pills into your mouth, you leaned over the sink to drink from the faucet, swallowing the medicine before splashing your face with cold water, desperate to do anything that might help.

It was your day off from work, but you had promised Maria you would help her with inventory before the men made their trip, so you shoved on your jeans and a clean shirt and made your way downstairs, elated to find Joel had left the coffee machine on for you. You poured the remaining liquid into a thermos so you could take it on the go, hoping the caffeine combined with the Tylenol would diminish the throbbing between your eyes.

By the time you made it to the warehouse, your head seemed to be slightly better, although the ache was still persistent. You must not have been hiding your pain very well because when Maria saw you, she frowned.

"What happened to you?"

"No idea, I woke up with the worst migraine," you said with a groan and flopped down on a nearby chair.

"You trying to get out of helping me?" she teased, and you smirked.

"Me? Never," you replied, and took a tentative sip of coffee, your stomach immediately churning. With a grimace, you set down your drink and leaned forward to rub your temples.

"Did you drink last night?" Maria asked, setting down her clipboard. You shook your head.

"No. Maybe I'm coming down with something," you said with a sigh. "It'll pass. I just need a distraction. Where should I start?"

"How about toiletries? I already did medicine yesterday, and I'm working on dry goods right now," she said, nodding to the other side of the aisle. You stood and picked up the clipboard and pen she left for you and got to work counting shampoo bottles and tubes of toothpaste.

"So, what are you thinking for a dress?" you asked her over your shoulder. "There's that strip mall a few miles out, last I heard it was all clear. There was a little boutique there."

"I haven't even thought about it yet, but that's a good idea. Maybe we can sneak away while the boys are gone and check it out," she said with a grin.

"What's the deal with this new settlement, anyway? Joel said they have some weird name, I can't remember what he called them," you said, cursing under your breath when you saw the amount of toothbrushes you had to count.

"Fireflies," Maria responded. "Yeah, weird name. The way Tommy described them sounded like they were kind of intense, but they have a settlement in an old hospital a few cities away and they supposedly have tons of medicine we could use. Bill's running way too low on antibiotics."

"What was intense about them?" you asked, giving her your full attention now. You didn't like the idea of Joel walking into a potentially hostile situation.

"I guess they are trying to lead some revolution against FEDRA in the QZs. They're looking for weapons and stuff like that to trade," she explained.

"Well, hopefully they need toothbrushes because we have more than enough," you muttered, turning back to your task. "Is it safe?"

"Is anything safe anymore?" Maria replied with a shrug. "He wouldn't risk it if he thought they would get jumped, if that's what you mean."

"Yeah, I guess so," you said, getting back to work. As the morning wore on, you listened to Maria talk about the council she was trying to form to lead the town. She had been the leader of Jackson since you joined, and her intention was always to share the duties with others. The town grew so fast and she had a hard enough time keeping up with everything that needed to be done, so the formation of a town council took a backseat the past few years.

"Wanna take a break and eat something?" Maria asked after a few hours. You nodded. Your head was finally beginning to feel better and the thought of food perked you up a bit.

"Did you want to go to the mess hall or just grab something off the shelf here?" she asked, picking up a box of granola bars and examining the label before putting it back on the shelf.

"Let's just stay here, we're on a roll," you told her, putting your clipboard on the shelf to join her at the dry goods section, examining your choices. You decided on a protein bar and some dried fruit, but the moment you bit into the bar, you felt your stomach roll. You paused mid chew, trying to push through the nausea and swallow, but you couldn't do it. Glancing around the room quickly, you spotted a garbage can in the corner and raced over, spitting out your food with a dry heave as you clutched the basket, bracing yourself for another wave of nausea.

"Whoa!" Maria exclaimed, hurrying over to you. You hovered over the garbage, your breath coming in shaky gasps and tears pricking your eyes as you dry heaved again. Maria rubbed comforting circles on your back and scooped your hair out of the way as you caught your breath, the nausea fading to the point where you felt confident enough to sit back against the wall, squeezing your eyes shut.

"You alright?" Maria asked you after a minute, and you weakly nodded your head. "What was that all about?"

"I don't know, I must be getting sick," you said, opening your eyes to accept the bottle of water she handed you. "I've been feeling really run down lately, I probably got the flu."

"In the middle of summer?" she asked you with a raised eyebrow. You shrugged and took a small sip of water.

"Maybe I should go home, I don't want to get you sick," you said, pushing yourself up the wall to stand.

"Sure, go get some rest," Maria said, straightening up. "You just better not be pregnant before me," she added teasingly.

"I'm not pregnant, I just had my period," you said with a shake of your head.

"When?"

You paused for a moment as you thought about it, then your eyes went wide. Maria noticed, her eyes widening, too.

"Oh, my god," you whispered, slumping back down against the wall. "I think I'm late."

"How late?" Maria asked, joining you back on the floor.

"Maybe a week? That's not that bad, though, right?"

"No, it's not that late..." she agreed, trailing off. "Is that normal for you?"

"Not really," you said. "But maybe it's from stress. I've been worried about Joel going on this trip... oh shit, what am I going to tell Joel?" You pushed the heels of your hands roughly into your eyes with a groan.

"Why don't we find you a test first before you worry about that," Maria said, looking around at the shelves. "Did you find any pregnancy tests in the toiletries?"

"No, I think Kate used the last of them, and it's not like it's a high priority item for the guys on patrol," you said, jumping up to nervously pace around the room. "Oh fuck, what am I going to do?!"

Your breathing was getting shallower the more your anxiety flared up. A baby was not something you were sure you ever wanted, let alone right now. Coupled with the insecurities you had been feeling ever since Maria and Tommy got engaged, the timing couldn't have been worse. It wasn't too long ago you were barely able to keep yourself alive and safe, how could you possibly expect to care for a helpless infant? You were fortunate to have found Jackson and the security that brought with it, but if the wrong people found your town, who knows what would happen.

"Why don't I walk you home," Maria said, feeling useless. "You should rest... either way."

The walk home was quick. Luckily, no one had stopped either of you to chat. Maria ushered you inside, sitting you down on the couch before bringing you a glass of water and some crackers from your pantry.

"Let me talk to Tommy when he gets home. I'll see if he can get some tests-" she held her hands up when you whipped your head around to look at her, eyes widened in fear. "I'll say it's for me, I won't mention you, I promise. I'll say I want them on hand for when we start trying, or something."

"If I don't have my period by the time they get back from their trip, I think I'll have my answer, anyway," you said sullenly, burying your face in your hands.

Maria chewed her lip and nodded, knowing you were probably right. She resumed rubbing circles on your back as you leaned forward with your head between your knees, your head clouded with fear.

"I have to tell Joel," you whispered, a tear trickling down your cheek. "He'll know something's wrong, I-I can't keep this from him."

"Tommy can do the trip without Joel, this is more important," said Maria.

"Yeah," you mumbled, leaning back and staring at your hands twisted together in your lap. How could you be so stupid?

"Do you think you'll be okay, or do you want me to stay?" she asked you, worry written all over her face. You shook your head and offered her a weak smile.

"I'll be fine, I know you have a lot to do and I just bailed on you," you said, patting her arm. She stood up, looking down at you, putting a hand on your shoulder before leaving.

"You know, you really went too far to get out of work this time," she joked, earning a huff of laughter from you. "But listen. It'll be okay, no matter what happens. We will all help you guys out, if... you know. You won't be in this alone." She gave you a reassuring squeeze, and you smiled, putting your hand warmly over the top of hers.

"Thanks, Maria," you whispered. She nodded before dropping her hand, and you watched her walk out the front door, leaving you all alone, wondering how exactly you were going to tell Joel.

You remained frozen to the couch the rest of the afternoon, nibbling on crackers and your mind going a mile a minute, dreading the moment Joel would walk through the front door. Maybe it's a false alarm. Maybe you miscounted the days. You wondered if you should even tell him until you were sure, but you knew he would see right through you the second he got home.

Your heart jumped in your throat when you finally heard the front door swing open, squeezing your eyes shut to focus on your breathing as you heard him take off his boots and say your name.

"In here," you called out, forcing your eyes open and plastering a weak smile on your face as you stood to greet him.

"Hey, sweetheart," he said when he saw you, pulling you into his arms and planting a kiss on the top of your head.

"How was patrol?" you asked, stepping away and averting your gaze out the window.

"Long. I could kill Tommy for puttin' me on the schedule before this trip," he said, reaching down to the coffee table to grab your sleeve of abandoned crackers and tossing one in his mouth. "You and Maria wrap up early?" he asked with his mouth full. He turned to head towards the kitchen for a glass, filling it up at the sink as you remained planted in the living room, your fingers nervously fidgeting at your sides.

"Yeah," you said quietly. "Maria finished up without me."

He glanced over at you as he drank his water in one gulp, then wiped his mouth with the palm of his hand before sauntering back over.

"Good. Was thinkin' we can stay in tonight," he said as he wrapped his arms around you. "Gonna miss you," he added suggestively, his lips brushing against your temple before craning his neck lower to latch his mouth onto yours. He paused, sensing your tension for the first time, and drew back to examine you closer.

"What's wrong?" he asked, holding you at an arms length by your shoulders. You brought your hands up to cover his and took a shaky breath.

"I think you should sit down," you began. All the air rushed out of his lungs, panic squeezing his throat as his grip on your shoulders tightened.

"Why?" he asked as he fell back onto the sofa. His eyes never left yours as he waited, trying to ignore the tightness in his chest. You sat down next to him and stared down at your hands, thinking about how to say it before deciding on just blurting it out.

"I'm late," you said, still avoiding his stare. There was a long pause before he replied.

"Late for what?" he asked, sounding confused. You squeezed your eyes shut and took a breath.

"My period, Joel," you said softly. You felt his body tense next to you, but you kept your eyes shut. "I... I don't know for sure, I couldn't find a test at the warehouse, but I thought you should know."

You could hear him breathing deeply next to you as he absorbed your words, but you couldn't bring yourself to look at him as you continued to explain.

"I haven't been feeling very well lately, I thought I was getting sick but then I realized... I don't know, it might be nothing," you rambled, your voice jumping up an octave as tears filled your closed eyes. "But it might be something, too, and I feel so fucking stupid and scared-"

"Hey," he said softly, finally finding his voice as he put a hand on your knee. "C'mon, look at me," he urged, hooking a finger under your chin and turning your face towards him.

You opened your eyes, two tears falling in the process as you reluctantly looked at him. His gaze softened as he stared at you, wiping away your tears.

"We've always been careful, I don't..." he trailed off as he thought about it before the realization dawned on him. "The party," he said, his voice heavy as his hands dropped from your face and he hung his head. "Fuck."

"Yeah," you said softly, letting your eyes fall back to your lap. You leaned forward, elbows resting on your knees so you could bury your face in your hands. "I don't know what to do, Joel. I can't do this," you mumbled, trying to fight back the tears.

He sighed and leaned back into the couch, scratching his beard thoughtfully for a second.

"Well, it's a little ahead of schedule, but if you are, we'll handle it like we do everythin' else," he replied. Now that the shock was wearing off, he was starting to come around to the idea, flashes of piggyback rides and first steps playing in his mind.

"'Ahead of schedule'?" you repeated sharply, dropping your hands to frown at him.

"Yeah. I mean, I figured one day after we got married-"

"Wait, what?" you asked, your voice rising as you stood up from the couch. "We never discussed any of this, Joel."

His brow furrowed, standing up as well and looking at you with confusion.

"Then let's discuss it now," he said, watching as you paced around the room.

You stopped pacing and stood across from him, eyeing him carefully as you crossed your arms.

"Do you really think it's responsible to bring a child into this world?" you asked him, your voice barely a whisper. He stared at you, his jaw ticking to the side as he thought about his answer.

"Probably not. But I don't think it's right to keep ourselves from bein' happy, either," he said with a shrug. "Gotta keep livin' our lives."

You searched his eyes for a moment as the weight of his words hit you. You took a deep breath and steeled yourself for your next question.

"So, what you're saying is getting married and having kids would make you happy?"

"'Course it would," he replied easily without a second thought. He frowned when he noticed the anguish flit across your face, and suddenly he realized there was a bigger problem. He swallowed roughly. "But it sounds like it wouldn't make you happy."

Tears welled up in your eyes. You tore your gaze away, unable to handle the hurt that was so clearly evident on his face.

"I'm happy the way things are," you said, your voice small. "I don't think I'm ready for... all that."

He nodded, clenching his jaw as he tried to keep the emotion from his voice.

"But one day?" he managed to ask, his throat suddenly feeling tight, worried about the answer.

"I-," you began to respond, then faltered, trying to find the right words. "I don't know, Joel," you finally said, your eyes glued to the floor as shame flooded your body.

He sniffed and put his hands on his hips, turning away from you to try to hide his pain, but it was palpable. The room was filled with tension and unspoken words. You couldn't believe you were breaking his heart like this. Closing your eyes, you wished more than anything you felt normal, that you wanted what he wanted, but you couldn't force it. You took a shaky breath before speaking again.

"I'm sorry, Joel. You don't deserve this, I'm fucked up," you whispered. "If those are things that would make you happy, you shouldn't have to sacrifice-"

"Don't you dare finish that fuckin' sentence," he said, and although his back was to you, you could tell his teeth were clenched as he spoke. You clamped your mouth shut, tears silently spilling down your cheeks.

"Joel-" you tried again, but he cut you off, whipping around to face you, his eyes glassy and his brow furrowed.

"You might be pregnant with my kid and this is how you tell me how you really feel?" he spat, his harshness making you recoil.

"I love you," you sobbed, wrapping your arms around yourself, tears flowing freely now.

"Not enough to wanna marry me, though," he said, and you weren't sure what hurt more: the words or the sadness that laced his voice.

"That's not fair," you whispered, tucking your chin into your chest.

"You're right. None of this is fair," he said, turning on his heel and heading towards the door.

"Where are you going?" you asked, taking a few steps forward so you could watch him walk down the hall.

"Out," he said curtly, and you winced. He paused with his hand on the door and dropped his head forward with a sigh. "I gotta think," he added softly without turning to look at you, then disappeared through the door, leaving you to collapse on the ground all alone in a hell of your own making.

You curled up on the couch that night waiting for him to come home, but fell asleep and didn't hear the door open or his feet on the stairs. You didn't wake until you heard the shower early the next morning. Sitting up from the couch, you tried to blink the sleep from your eyes when you felt the familiar, telltale cramping in your stomach. After going to the bathroom, you confirmed your suspicions.

You sat at the kitchen table until Joel came down the stairs, trying to be quiet until he realized you were already awake and waiting for him. He paused when he saw you at the table, but quickly averted his gaze to the cupboard to find his thermos.

"I'm not pregnant," you said quietly. His shoulders tensed for a moment, then lifted the coffee pot, pouring it into the tumbler before turning around to face you.

"You must be relieved," he said coldly. Your lower lip trembled and you stood up from the table to go to him, but he stepped away, creating more distance.

"I'll be back in a few days," he said, casting you a somber glance before turning towards the door.

You stood there, your hands tangling together in front of you, unsure what to do or say to fix this pain you caused. He stopped in front of the door, about to leave, but turned back one more time to look at you.

"Just tell me right now if you don't want me," he said, the expression on his face breaking your heart.

"I want you," you said immediately, and you swore you saw a flicker of relief in his eyes at how fast you responded. "I love you, Joel. So much. And I'm so sorry."

He stared at you for a moment, his eyes searching your puffy, tear stained face before giving you a firm nod, then turned to leave, closing the door softly behind him.

Tag List: @chiogarza, @sparklejumpropequeen-777, @shotgun-shelby @partyofone3413 @nana90azevedo @ninaminaromina @untamedheart81 @taz-97 @nastiasnow @amyispxnk - lmk if I missed anyone or if you want to be removed

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themirokai · 8 months

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now I wanna know- why isn't drinking water free in the US?

Hi there friend! Thanks very much for taking the bait from this post. Buckle up, this is a long one.

If you want to put out a cistern and collect rainwater and use that, congratulations! Your water is free! Plus the cost of maintaining your cistern and keeping it clean. If you’re lucky enough to live somewhere with a high enough water table to have a well, then your water is also free + the cost of the well and well maintenance.

But if you want water to come out of your tap on demand and you can’t or don’t want to maintain a cistern and you can’t or don’t want to have a well… you need public water!

How do we get public water? Well, a government entity (usually. there are some private utilities, but that’s a different post. I have strong feelings) has rights to take water out of a river or a lake, or they have a reservoir, or they have access to an aquifer. Then they have to transport the water out of the source. This generally requires aqueducts or massive pipes, which are expensive and need to be maintained, which is also expensive. The pipe leading out of one of my utility’s reservoirs is 12 feet in diameter.

Does the water go directly from the source to your home? Nope! It gets piped to a water filtration plant! The process of modern water filtration is complicated but it involves both physical and chemical treatment to make sure the water isn’t carrying any parasites, harmful bacteria, or pollutants and it has the right pH. Not only are these filtration plants extremely expensive to build and maintain but the process of operating them is extremely expensive, both in terms of hiring skilled staff and having appropriate materials for the filters and chemical treatment.

After the treated water (called “finished water” in the biz) is ready it does get piped to your house.

If you use public water, do you know where your local water filtration plant is? No? That probably means it’s not in your immediate neighborhood, which probably means it’s several miles or more away. To get to your house, the water needs to travel through an extensive pipe network. These pipes are smaller but they have to remain pressurized so that no contaminants can get into the water on its way to your house. But pipes break! Especially if you live somewhere with a freeze/thaw cycle. Maintaining this pipe network is, you guessed it, expensive! It requires materials and extremely skilled workers who perform in very very difficult conditions. Plus lots of engineering to keep the whole system pressurized even when one part of it breaks. Oh, and you know what lots of pipes were made out of in the early 20th century? Lead! So all around the country utilities need to make extensive and costly infrastructure upgrades because now we know lead pipes are really freaking bad.

Okay, so you get the basic picture. And I haven’t even gotten into Safe Drinking Water Act compliance, but most of that happens at the filtration plant. Oo! Or desalinization because some utilities pull their water from the sea and need to take the salt out. I know basically nothing about this except that it is likely complicated and expensive to do at scale.

This is essentially why I get frustrated by people who argue “why should we pay for something that falls out of the sky?” Because finished water doesn’t fall from the sky and it sure as hell doesn’t fall from the sky into your faucet. (Side note: as a public utility official I have been screamed at by the “it falls from the sky” people. A thing I like about the private sector is that people scream at me a lot less.)

Now, there is a very strong argument to be made that because water is necessary for human life, it should be provided by the government for free to everyone. And just like the costs of roads or public education, this should be part of the public budget and paid for by taxes and no one should have a water bill. I don’t disagree with this. I’m sure that’s how it’s done in some countries.

I don’t have a well-researched answer on the history of water utilities but I do have some facts and some (very) educated conjectures. Water rights in the US are complicated (another separate post!) but they’re based on private ownership. Ever since white people came to this country people have been claiming ownership over water and charging each other money for taking water out of rivers or lakes or the ground. You can measure how much of it someone uses and charge them for it. Water is treated like a commodity because unlike other public goods, it *can* be treated like a commodity and then, you know, capitalism. Again, I’m not saying that’s right.

But as a society, if we believe that no one should have a water bill, then we need to figure out how to pay for all the very expensive steps in the process I outlined at the top. Could that just be taxes? Sure, if you have a system that supports taxes at that level. Do I believe that public funding of water infrastructure would be a fuckton better than a lot of things we use taxes for now? Absolutely! But that requires massive institutional change and this isn’t generally an issue that people know enough about to demand change.

If you read this far, congratulations! You now know more stuff about drinking water!

#hey if you enjoyed reading this consider reblogging it #it took me a while to write up #and I love educating people about this stuff #also if you have follow up questions please send them along #miro does asks #miro irl #drinking water #public utilities #water utilities #public water #long post

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cr4yolaas · 26 days

Text

the night shift — warmth

day 1 | masterlist | interlude 0.1

now playing: behind the moon shadow by lamp

kageyama watches as she rings up the last group of teenaged boys, the surplus of energy drinks and candies and chips failing to concern him. he thinks of her in her drunken, vulnerable, and giggly state, and her now, shielded and strong-eyed. the difference is evident in her stance, in her posture, in her tone. the group filters out and the jingle of the door marks the end of the night shift.

they follow their usual routine -- wiping down counters, taking note of stock, shutting off the heater -- and they move in tandem as they do so.

except, this time, she waits at the door.

"what are you doing?" he asks. his voice cracks ever so slightly.

she laughs at him, the noise filled with a heavy warmth that he finds unfamiliar. "waiting for you, of course. did you forget i was treating you tonight?"

he wants to tell her that he could never forget. that it never left his mind the entire shift. instead, he mutters, "a little, yeah."

again, she laughs, and it's whole. a far cry from what he perceived of her before, based on the cold shoulder she'd given him months prior.

the lights flicker off behind them, just like last night and every other night. she lifts a hand to her eyes to protect from tonight's harsher winds, with a sheepish admission that she doesn't quite have the funds to get something for either of them. "is it alright if we head to my place, instead? i can make you something," she offers.

he nods faster than he should.

——

it's awkward.

the lamps scattered around the house illuminate the kitchen and the dining table where he sits with his hands folded neatly on his lap and his leg bouncing up and down incessantly. despite all the uncomfortable silence, he feels a warmth that he hadn't experienced in a long, long while. maybe it's the air, he thinks, or the lighting, or the steam rising from her bubbling pot. but he doesn't think of comfort.

she stands over the stove with her sleeves rolled up to her elbows and her weight shifted to one leg. two packs of ramen reside on the counter beside her, both ripped open with tiny remnants of uncooked noodles. he watches her crack an egg in with one hand, then another egg with another hand. the pot stirs, and the water boils some more before simmering down to rest.

"spicy foods are great for winter, you know. helps to keep warm," she shares, an attempt at loosening the tension. her slippers click against the floor as she nears with the pot in her hands. the burning red hue of the soup and the assortment of vegetables reminds him of a meal from home.

the silence is less tense when they eat. they take turns as they pick up their own portions, her bites mirroring his. she chuckles at the pink spreading across his face from the heat, a mindless comment about his spice tolerance spilling from her lips naturally, and he can't find it in himself to argue with her. kenma's voice rings out in the background, and neither of them pay any mind to it.

a thought lingers in the air — whether or not he'd be in her house if it weren't for that accidental call. they don't want to dwell on it. good food is a good enough distraction.

"do you do anything outside of work?" the question disrupts the silence. he tears his eyes away from the meal and looks to her.

"volleyball. i play volleyball most of the time."

at that, she releases a hum and a nod, and he can't tell what it means. "yachi told me about that," she begins, her statement cut off by her own slurps. "why not go pro?"

he pauses. it's a simple question, but any semblance of an answer falls flat on his tongue.

it takes a moment before he responds. "i want to focus on myself first."

she can hear the bitterness behind it.

it's quiet again. they each take their last bites and the pot sits on the table completely empty, drained of all that it once had. together, they stack the collection of dishes up into a neat pile before she takes them to the sink, the water turning on and serving as white noise. porcelain clinks against metal in random bouts, and the warmth of the meal settles into sleepiness.

"what about you?" kageyama inquires, both an attempt to avoid silence and to keep himself awake.

"i don't have anything else to do outside of work."

her answer is instantaneous, a stark contrast to his, but similarly, it bears a hint of discontent. she bites the skin of her lower lip to redirect herself. "not that i really need anything else. or want anything else, for that matter. at least right now."

there's more to it. they both know that. but he glances at the clock hung atop one of the many lamps and realizes it's far too late to stay any longer. she jokes about how she couldn't care less, and it's natural. it flows.

the door closes behind him. she stands in the center of the living room with something heavy in her chest.

ᡣ𐭩 a lot of this smau is going to be convos between the frolickers gc bc i love them sm and they make everything feel natural

ᡣ𐭩 yams and yachi had the worst shift of their LIFE. an old lady came in and ordered the most complicated drink and when they couldnt get it down she started cursing them out </333

ᡣ𐭩 kageyama has a bad (?) habit of observing yn all the time. i hope it doesnt come off as stalker-ish i just think he’s a very analytical / people-watching person 😭

ᡣ𐭩 yn made shin ramen 😄😄

ᡣ𐭩 kags has an okay spice tolerance. he won’t throw up and die from spice but he will get super red and sweaty

ᡣ𐭩 i actually have no idea if i said this before but since new grounds and the convenience store are on the same street, yn and yachi tend to meet up during their breaks to talk and hang out !! they love gossiping about anything and everything hence why yn knew about kageyama’s vb stuff

ᡣ𐭩 similar to yn with kuroo and kenma, the frolickers gc is kag’s support system. he tries not to doubt their concern. he’s also just very avoidant so they try not to pry too much 😭😭

ᡣ𐭩 i hope this chapter was cutesy and nostalgic and warm and everything else that reminds you of home !! thats the vibe i was going for ^_^

taglist: @causenessus @strawberryuri @iiwaijime @savemebrazilhinata @tiramizuloz @conrad4life13 @wyrcan @zazathezaer @nperoconelcositoarriba @cupidsblonde @winniethepooh-lover

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soiwatchyougo · 5 months

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The Black Dog

Ingrid Engen x Mapi Leon

(A/N- The Black Dog is a stereotypical British pub, so imagine it seamlessly fitting into Barcelona. I spent the whole weekend listening to TTPD, so I recommend listening to that while you read- apologies in advance for the angst!)

Warning- Language

The Black Dog was their bar.

After every match, they migrated there. It never mattered if they’d been thrashed or won victoriously; the bar stayed the same. The tables were always on the wrong side of sticky, their once light brown wood darkened with age and spilled beer. Coasters littered the tables, their grubby presence normally forgotten. Instead, rings of condensation formed on the table, leaving the water to slowly seep into the wood. The wooden counter of the bar was chipped with age, but the shining attraction of the beer taps soon made up for its imperfections. Rickety bar stools lined its length, even the slightest movement making them wobble precariously. There was barely any room to manoeuvre around the bar, the floor a sea of bags and chair legs, not perfect for stumbling messes three drinks deep. It was always slightly too hot despite the air-conditioning that whirred quietly in the background, drowned out by excited chatter and raucous laughs. As the revellers started to filter out, the music started to play as the staff cleared up, wiping away any remnants of their presence.

Ingrid and Mapi’s figures were such a presence at the bar that the owner joked that he should put reserved signs on their seats. Over time, they had slowly claimed the two stools at the end of the row of stools, slightly secluded from the rest of the celebrations. All that was visible was their two heads bowed together, always in quiet conversation. Sometimes Ingrid would throw her head back laughing but they were in their own bubble, undisturbed by drunken chants or crying children.

The bar had seen them win the Champions League together, the locals crowding around the small television in the corner. When the final whistle blew, the owner declared that all drinks were on the house for the rest of the night. The celebrations had continued long into the morning, the bar staying open until the champions returned home for a victory drink.

It had also seen them lose the same competition the next year. When they dejectedly returned from the final, the bar was the first place they headed to, its familiarity healing some of their hurt. Their drinks were already waiting by their seats, and for once, The Black Dog was quiet when they entered.

It was eerily silent, and it took everything in Mapi not to burst into tears again. She felt like she hadn’t just disappointed her team, but her community also. As they settled into their seats, a singular clap broke the silence. Soon the bar was overpowered with clapping, and for the first time since the match ended, she felt hope again.

When their parents met for the first time, there was only one place the couple thought to take them to. The Black Dog watched as Ingrid hesitantly translated for everyone and Mapi nervously fiddled with the hem of her shirt, one of the only times the fearless defender’s hand shook as she picked up her drink. Ingrid reached out and placed a comforting hand on her thigh, and the look that passed between them spoke more than a thousand words. Their parents watched on admiringly and the squeaky door helped them leave in fits of laughter, content that both their daughters had made the right decision.

The patrons joked that they should hold their wedding there, and the couple just smiled shyly, their future together inevitable. Even as they moved in together, they never replaced the bar for drinks at home. They spent practically every moment together, yet the routine of settling into their seats at the bar made them feel like teenagers on their first date again.

The Black Dog also watched as the distance between their bowed heads slowly became larger until they were both sitting up straight, staring intently at the condensation on their glasses. Mapi’s mouth stopped running at a hundred miles an hour, and for the first time since they entered the bar, there was silence between them. Any attempt of conversation was shut down, so they resigned themselves to listening to the clink of glasses, the noise that had seemed so insubstantial now assaulting their ears.

Gone were the inside jokes and teasing touches, or the half-finished glass deserted on the countertop for more important activities. The bartenders observed the couple with a worried interest, sharing whispered rumours over the dishwasher. Their routine seemed more like a chore, but neither of them was willing to give it up, so they wallowed in their unhappiness together.

Until one day, they stopped.

The bar watched as their seats remained unoccupied after a win against Levante. Every time the door swung open, their eyes lit up, only to be replaced by disappointment. Dusk started to settle, and the bar became busier until their stools were the only empty two. The bartenders stared at them forlornly until they unanimously admitted defeat, dejectedly gesturing for another couple to sit in them. The couple lowered themselves down with a smile on their faces, and it felt so wrong that they were nearly evacuated immediately.

They still waited expectantly after the next match, but it was no use. Rumours of their breakup spread throughout the bar, but no one could pinpoint the exact moment it started to go downhill. Maybe it was when Mapi injured her knee and struggled onto the stool, and no matter how much Ingrid tried to help her, she wouldn’t accept her supportive arm. It could’ve been when Ingrid nearly fell asleep on the countertop and Mapi tried to help her home, except she couldn’t because of her crutches, and the owner had to assist her. There was the night when one beer turned to five and Ingrid stormed out of the bar, Mapi hopping helplessly behind her. She called her name, but the Norwegian was already out in the cold air, and Mapi deflated against the wall, tears forming in her eyes.

The signs were there, but no one wanted to believe it.

You couldn’t fabricate the way they used to look at each other, eyes brimming with admiration and love. It was them against the world, and everyone knew it. Even through the worst of losses, they were each other’s rock, a type of unwavering support that very few were lucky to receive. It was the type of love that couldn’t be captured in a photo but only felt in the way they constantly orbited each other, incomplete without the other.

The patrons brushed off their troubles with a swig of beer, shaking their heads in disbelief at those who claimed they would fail. If any couple could weather a rough patch, it was them.

But as it turned out, they weren’t strong enough.

The couple couldn’t identify an exact reason, and that’s what made the break-up even more painful. They tried to work through the reasons for their hurt, but the pain clouded their minds and tinged everything they did. Weeks of silent resentment turned into full-blown screaming matches, only ever ending with slamming doors and helpless sobs. No matter how much they tried to have moments of happiness, Mapi could feel Ingrid slipping away. The Norwegian stopped sharing her feelings, and the more Mapi pressed, the angrier she got. Mapi was frustrated about her knee and apologising for her moodiness only made Ingrid retreat further into her shell. They couldn’t even talk about mundane things without one of them snapping.

The fighting exhausted them until they had no love left to give.

Something had broken, and although they both desperately wanted it to work out, they couldn’t continue like this. Somewhere along the way, they forget why they fell in love in the first place, and trying to force the feeling only made it hurt more.

They had everything, and now they had nothing.

Ingrid went to Norway for a National camp, and when her flight arrived in Barcelona, she hesitated before giving Rolfo’s address to the taxi driver. Mapi waited for the click of the door, but it never came, and she collapsed onto the couch in a flood of tears. Ingrid had finally done the brave thing and left, and Mapi was too much of a coward to stop her. She knew she wasn’t making Ingrid happy anymore, and maybe only by losing each other could they find their way back together.

Ingrid ignored her at practice, her cold gaze failing to mask her red-rimmed eyes. She said she needed space, and Mapi tried to respect that. Her knee healed, but her heart was still torn in two, a type of pain that no type of surgery could heal. Their forced proximity only reminded Mapi of how stupid she had been to let the Norwegian fall through her fingers, but she couldn’t do anything about it, not when every time she approached Ingrid she was shunned. It didn’t seem like Ingrid missed her, which was impossible for Mapi to comprehend. She couldn’t believe that the same woman she had a ring hidden for in her dresser could so easily forget her.

They were so close to having it all. Before Mapi injured her knee, they were perfect, stupidly obsessed with each other. After weeks of deliberating, she went into the city centre and visited a jewellery store. Surrounded by hundreds of beautiful rings, there was only one that she knew Ingrid would love. The extortionate price hadn’t phased her, and she had left the shop grinning and planning the proposal.

The next week, she tore her meniscus, and everything went to shit.

During their arguments, Ingrid would sometimes reference the fact they had been together for nearly half a decade, yet they were still only girlfriends. Mapi wanted to run to her dresser and show Ingrid the ring, but she knew the Norwegian deserved a perfect proposal. She told herself that as soon as they got better, she would get down on one knee and show Ingrid how much she loved her.

Except, they never got better.

She thought space was meant to heal all wounds, but it only seemed to tear hers open. Sometimes she was overwhelmed by grief that she couldn’t leave her house, and Alexia had to steal her spare key just to make sure she wasn’t dead. Nothing could lift her spirits, and months after their breakup, she was still struggling to get through each day.

Mapi allowed herself one indulgence; checking Ingrid’s location. It used to be a source of pride to see their icons constantly together, but now Ingrid’s was fixed over the other side of the city. Mapi waited for the day she turned it off, but it seemed the Norwegian had either forgotten or wanted to punish her. Either way, Mapi couldn’t stop herself from clicking on the app and zooming in on her icon, a picture of her smiling face. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting to find, but clinging onto the last physical reminder of their affection stopped her from completely burying their relationship.

It was another night of cooking for one and crying into her dinner when Mapi checked her phone, her brow furrowing in confusion. Ingrid’s icon was moving along the street until it stopped in a bar, a bar that Mapi knew very well.

The Black Dog.

It killed her to see Ingrid alone in their bar. She had never been in that bar without Ingrid, and she knew it was the same for the Norwegian. She couldn’t help but think that it was a sign, a way of Ingrid extending an olive branch without words.

Even if it wasn’t, Mapi wasn’t going to let her go without a fight this time.

She rushed to pull on her shoes, and as an afterthought, headed to her bedroom. Rooting through her dresser, she pulled out the ring box and zipped it securely into her pocket. She wasn’t sure why, but her gut told her if she didn’t do something, she would lose the chance.

Running down the stairs, she only had one thought on her mind. She sprinted along the street to The Black Dog, covering the short distance in mere minutes. She barely registered the way her lungs gasped for air or her knee ached as she pushed open the door, the bustle of the bar making her physically recoil. The memories overwhelmed her as her eyes immediately looked for Ingrid at her usual seat.

The patrons stared at her as she made her way to the bar, the top of Ingrid’s head just visible. Pushing her way through the final few obstacles, she finally reached the object of her affection.

Ingrid was drawing patterns on the condensation of her beer glass, and before Mapi could even ask if she could sit down, the bartender was placing her drink on the mat in front of the stool. Mapi swallowed and hesitantly sat down, her arm brushing against Ingrid as the chair wobbled.

Ingrid looked up from her glass, her green eyes filled with tears. She smiled tightly at Mapi, but she showed no real sign of being pleased with her presence.

“I can leave if you want,” Mapi said softly, her brow furrowed with concern. Ingrid looked so broken that Mapi was starting to regret ever checking her location. These stools no longer reminded her of their love-struck first years, but the pain of their final couple of months.

“No,” Ingrid whispered, clearing her throat, “I want to talk to you.”

Mapi nodded and took a sip of her beer. She hadn’t drunk this beer since the breakup, the mere smell of it transporting her back to the bar, and inevitably, back to Ingrid.

“Me too,” Mapi said, her body thrumming with nerves. Even though Ingrid knew all her secrets and had seen the worst parts of her, Mapi was still petrified to open up to the Norwegian again. They had said some unthinkable things to each other during their fights, and some words cut deeper than others.

They sat in silence for a moment, enshrouded by the hum of the bar. Ingrid looked like she wanted to speak, but every time her mouth opened, no words came out.

“How did you know I’d come?” Mapi asked, her eyes flitting between Ingrid’s face and her beer.

“You’ve still got your location on,” Ingrid said with a shrug, “figured if I was checking yours every day, so would you.”

Mapi nodded. Even given the space between them, Ingrid still knew her better than anyone else.

“Fuck,” Ingrid said hopelessly, “this is harder than I thought it would be. I had a whole speech planned, but...”

“Would you like me to speak first?” Mapi tried to add helpfully, her heart breaking at Ingrid’s distress.

The Norwegian nodded slightly, her eyes downcast.

Mapi took a deep breath, “I’m sorry. I could spend all night listing all the things I’m sorry about, but I think the bar would kick us out. I’m not trying to make excuses, but you should know what was happening in my fucked-up head. After I tore my meniscus, I was a wreck. I was so sad, and I felt useless. I couldn’t walk, I couldn’t do anything. I spent all day lying in bed and sleeping while you went to training, and I couldn’t bear it.”

“I started to resent you,” Mapi continued with a frown, “but you were under so much pressure to be a perfect centre-back, and I didn’t want to add anything else to your plate. I used to be so happy, so bubbly, and I felt like I was pulling you down with my negativity.”

“I should’ve told you how I was feeling, but I was terrified. Keeping it inside didn’t help, and you seamlessly fitting into defence made me feel replaceable. I had lost my job, and I was slowly losing my happiness; the easiest thing to blame was you.”

“Why?” Ingrid asked with a hint of anger in her voice, “I was nothing but supportive. I was by your side throughout surgery, and you repaid me by ignoring my efforts to help you. All I wanted was for you to be proud of me, to love me, but you couldn’t even smile at the games. That was fucking selfish, Maria.”

Mapi flinched at the use of her full name. Ingrid used to say it during intimate moments, and it always made her heart swell with affection. But the way the Norwegian spat it out made it very clear it was not a term of endearment, but an insult.

“I know. I wish I could take it back. I was trying to live up to a perfect image, but I was too blind to see that was useless.”

“It sure was. I never needed you to be perfect, I just wanted you to be honest. We had been together for nearly half a decade, and you didn’t trust me. How do you think that made me feel? The love of my life was slowly wasting away, but she wouldn’t talk to me about anything.”

“I was an idiot. By the time I realised that I needed to get my shit together, I think you were already gone. I had pushed you away, and I hated myself so much that I basically self-destructed. I should’ve fought, I should’ve done something, but I couldn’t see a way out of the hole that I’d dug for myself.”

Mapi’s voice was helpless. They were the worst couple of months of her life, and even reminiscing about them caused a pang in her chest.

Ingrid sipped her beer with a grimace, “I should’ve pushed you to get some help, but I was so angry with you that, honestly, I thought that leaving was the best option. I needed to get away, to re-evaluate what I wanted from our relationship because it wasn’t working anymore.”

Hearing Ingrid voice her reasons for leaving made Mapi wince, reminding her of her past mistakes. She hadn’t wanted to admit that they were broken, her last spark of hope tying Ingrid down until the Norwegian finally found the courage to break away.

“You’re right. It broke me when you left, but I knew I needed to work on myself and let you find your spark again, which wouldn’t happen with me. I loved you, Ingrid, but I lost track of that somewhere along the way.”

“I loved you too,” Ingrid bit back, “I wanted nothing but the best for you, but I couldn’t be with you like that. You made me feel like I was an inconvenience, and that wasn’t right.”

Ingrid huffed and shook her head in defeat. Tears were slowly running down her cheeks, and Mapi could barely look at her stained face without a wave of guilt crashing over her.

“You deserved so much better than that. I should’ve shown you how amazing you were every day of your life because you are. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. I felt like the rest of my life was just waiting to find you, and when I finally did, I felt complete. One look at you, and I was hopelessly in love.”

“So was I. But you gave up, Maria. Did you really care that much if you let go that easily? I waited for you to prove your love, but all I got were empty confessions. I died waiting for it to return to how it was at the start, for those days when you were utterly obsessed with me, but nothing. You said you loved me, but where was the evidence?”

Tears streamed down Ingrid’s face. Mapi’s heart cracked, and she unzipped her pocket, revealing the velvet box. Ingrid gasped as Mapi opened the box, revealing a stunning diamond sitting on top of a silver band.

“It was in my dresser. I wanted to marry you, I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. But then I got injured, and I chickened out. I wasn’t going to use marriage as something to force you to stay when I knew you’d probably say yes out of obligation because you were tired of waiting for a proposal. That wouldn’t fix our problems.”

“Fuck Maria, it’s perfect. I prayed for some romantic gesture, and all the time you were hiding this?” Ingrid shook her head in disbelief, “I wish I would’ve known.”

“I still love you, princesa. I always will, and I’m sorry I messed up so badly. But I don’t think I can carry on like this, not having you in my life. It’s been torture. I can’t change the past, but I’d be an idiot if I didn’t at least try and get you back. You deserve better than me, but if you can find it in your heart to give me a second chance, I promise you’ll never doubt my love ever again.”

“That’s quite a guarantee,” Ingrid said with a chuckle.

Mapi smiled for the first time that night, “I know, and I wouldn’t be making it if I didn’t believe that I couldn’t keep it. I’m not saying I’ll be perfect, but I know I don’t have to be now. All I want to be is the best partner to you.”

Ingrid sighed, “I love you. I love you more than anything else, but you really hurt me. If we get back together, that’s it. I can’t go through another break-up with you, I can’t take any more sadness.”

Mapi nodded, her eyes pleading. She felt hope again, a slither a light that made her think that Ingrid didn’t hate her.

“But” Ingrid continued, “I’m not ready to give up on our love just yet. Some things are worth fighting for, and I think we are.”

“Think?” Mapi said with a quirk of her eyebrow.

She wanted to make sure Ingrid was certain. If they were going to try again, it wouldn’t be a half-hearted effort or something the Norwegian was doing out of obligation for her past self.

“Know.” Ingrid said firmly, “We are worth fighting for. I’m not saying I can jump straight back in but love like ours only comes around once in a lifetime.”

Mapi breathed a sigh of relief, the Norwegian’s words lifting a weight off her chest.

“That’s fine. I’ll wait for as long as you want, but when you’re ready, I’ll be here. I’ll always be here for you, Ingrid.”

Mapi’s voice was sincere, and she reached out and clasped Ingrid’s hands in hers. They were soft and slightly wet from the condensation on her glass, but they felt like coming home. Ingrid smiled and bit her lip in thought. Her startling green eyes were blurred with tears, but Mapi could sense their cold edges softening, starting to be filled with something akin to affection. The bar was still bustling around them, but in that moment, it was just them again.

Ingrid tilted her head towards the ring, “Don’t wait too long to get that out next time.”

Mapi laughed, “I’m not making that mistake twice.”

She shut the box and placed it back in her pocket. She hoped one day it would sit where it belonged on Ingrid’s ring finger, but until then it would stay in her dresser, a reminder to not lose sight of the most important person in her life again.

“So,” Ingrid said, “How about we start things off with a drink?”

Mapi had barely touched her beer, but she knew the weight of Ingrid’s words. It was the Norwegian’s way of showing that she forgave Mapi, that although things may be strained for a while, the fabric of their relationship was still unchanged. The love was still there, but it just needed to be coaxed out of hiding, slowly revealed to themselves and the world.

The Black Dog waited expectantly after the next match for the door to swing open. They held their breath as Ingrid entered...followed by Mapi. The patrons erupted into cheers as the blushing couple made their way to their seats, now adorned with a little gold plaques, installed by Mapi. It may have only been a small gesture, but it spoke volumes. Their relationship may have changed, but The Black Dog always reminded them of why they fell in love in the first place, and why they shouldn’t take each other for granted. They were the lucky ones, and if the sticky tables taught them anything, it was that you didn’t have to be perfect to be loved.

The Black Dog was their bar; it always had been.

#fc barcelona #ingrid engen #football #woso #mapi leon #fanfic #ttpd #taylor swift #the black dog #angst #woso fanfics #woso community #barca femeni #fcb femení #mapi leon x ingrid engen

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profoundlyscreechingkryptonite · 3 months

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https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-Zaid-to-get-a-better-future-after-gaza-war?lang=en_US&utm_campaign=fp_sharesheet&utm_medium=customer&utm_source=copy_link

Hello, My name is Rewaa Mershed, I’m a freelancer journalist, living in Belgium, I used to spread and tell stories about suffering of Gaza people, but as for now with great sadness I have to tell you about my sister’s story.

This is her story

"Hi, I'm Reham, a mother from Gaza, Palestine. I have a 2-year-old son named Zaid, before a devastating war tore through our lives, my husband and I had built a small business and a warm home filled with love and memories in Gaza.

On October 7th, everything changed, Our home and business were destroyed in the conflict, We had to flee to the southern part of Gaza, amidst relentless bombings escaping a trail of destruction and chaos, leaving everything behind, with only the clothes on our backs ,We lost everything we don’t have any source of income.

We shelter in a small house cramped with 80 others, living in constant fear,without electricity, My son suffering from an intestinal infection due to the dire conditions, and there was no insufficient medical care in our displacement , My family is suffering from a lack of food and also a lack of healthy drinking water, which caused us severe stomach pain, and my whole family became infected with hepatitis A. Due to the conditions imposed by the occupation and siege and the lack of resources, it has been difficult for us to provide my son with basic and simple needs, such as milk and diapers. If food is found, it is cooked on firewood and it is completely unhealthy and tastes bad because of the firewood.

This is how we making food on firewood, and no clean water no filters.

#free palestine #khan younis #free gaza #gofundme #free #go fund them #gaza #gaza genocide #gaza strip #palestine #rafah

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tucsonwaterfiltrationaquasana · 1 year

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Water Filtration System Installation Tucson Arizona

#Water filter systems #Water filter repairs #Whole house water filter #Whole house water filtration system #Tucson drinking water #water filtration #Tucson Water Filtration System Installation #Tucson Whole House Water Filtration System

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hapan-in-exile · 6 months

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Volume 4 - Post #4: Say goodbye to the old me

Another installment in this ongoing serialized fanfic

GIF by dindooku

Genre: Mandalorian x Fem! Reader

Total word count: 5.6K (fourth post in Volume 4)

Rating: Explicit - smut, language, +18 *NSFW*

_______________________________

IV. “Hey! Watch it! I–oh…I, um…” the Trandoshan’s words died on his lips the moment he looked up to discover who he’d bumped into.

The Mandalorian hated working on Coruscant. It was noisy, crowded, and endlessly labyrinthian. Most of the filters in his helmet were rendered useless due to the sheer number of life forms in such close proximity. Continuous vehicle traffic across every level of the city overloaded his motion sensors.

The frenetic energy of the megalopolis set him on edge.

But what Mando really hated, what he absolutely loathed, was visiting the Uscru District. It was all the worst parts about a place like Daiyu—gambling dens, night clubs, garish neon lights, vendors shouting, the flashing, stochastic holograms—made somehow worse because it was repacked for gawking tourists.

Acrobats hung from cables crisscrossing overhead, their lithe bodies shimmering, while street musicians played for coins. Instrument cases littered the walkway, and goods were hawked on the pavement.

He felt uncentered. The next idiot who tripped over him to stare slack-jawed at some fucking juggler was getting bodied.

Luckily, it didn’t come to that. Mando couldn’t afford the delay.

The Mandalorian turned onto Daring Way, toward the sky bridge that would take him to the Floating World. Tourists liked to keep to well-lit thoroughfares, so the foot traffic here was sparser, and he made better time. Soon, the soft, glowing lights of the pleasure quarter came into view.

Music spilled out from decadent parlors where the doors and windows had been flung open to lure passersby. Beings of every gender and species could be seen lounging, sprawled out on display, wearing little more than scraps of fabric and gaudy jewels.

Each house catered to a different clientele, their specialty made known by the facade of the building or else the costumes worn by hosts welcoming their clients inside.

Most tourists never entered the brothels of the Floating World. They just came to take in the scene and watch the crowd, which was a sight in itself. Amongst the extravagant fashions and decor of the houses, many visitors donned elaborate masks or robes to conceal their identities.

So the Mandalorian was surprised to discover that the Dark Garden had no hosts waiting in the doorway and nothing on display in the windows. Instead, they were closed, sealed tight behind intricately carved black shutters.

The whole building was black. Its gleaming stone exterior looked more like a palatial mansion than a pleasure house.

The woman stationed behind the desk in the entryway was also dressed in black. It was a stark contrast to her pale pink skin, white-blond hair, and nearly colorless gray eyes. She looked up at him from between two onyx vases overflowing with vibrant red blossoms that matched her painted lips.

“Welcome, sir. We appreciate your business. Do you have an appointment?”

“No, I’m not in need of your…services. I’ve come to see Mistress Anassa. She’ll know why I’m here.”

“Mistress Anassa is very busy,” she smiled apologetically. “Her clients book months in advance. I cannot promise she will have time to—”

He slid several gold peggats across the highly polished surface of the reception desk.

“Tell her a Mandalorian is waiting. I’ll be here until she finds the time.”

“Very well, sir. Please come with me.”

She led him through a dark passage to a lounge filled with curved sofas and circular ottomans, where clients–some wearing masks, others with their faces bared–sat huddled in conversation, drinking from elegant carafes or smoking ornate water pipes.

The hostess directed him to an alcove beneath a cluster of illuminated, floating orbs.

“Can I offer the Mandalorian anything while he waits? Company, perhaps?” She lowered her voice as she leaned in to place a pillow behind his back. “We cater to every desire here.”

“My desire,” he said evenly, “is for solitude.”

“As you like,” she smiled again, leaving him to wait for Mistress Anassa.

But he was conspicuous sitting alone, and it wasn’t long before another hostess dressed in black strode toward him. She walked over on towering heels he imagined Thuli would have loved to see if the Mandalorian needed attention.

She artfully placed one of the gilt carafes onto the lacquered table beside him and poured a drink. “May I offer the gentleman anything else?”

Her voice was as supple as her corsetted leather dress.

“No. Thank you, I–”

The sight of two luminous violet eyes caught him by surprise, and his heart stuttered. He turned sharply to see a woman entering the parlor. On second glance, she looked nothing like Thulindhara. But the eyes were unmistakable—their iridescent sheen, how they glowed bright like full moons. She was Hapan.

“Perhaps the Mandalorian sees something to his liking?”

It wasn’t her, yet the thrill that rose inside him didn’t ebb. It clutched the breath from his lungs and twisted his stomach into knots.

Mando knew he would miss her, but he hadn’t expected to feel her absence as a physical pain.

“No,” he said. “Thank you. But, no. I’m here to see Mistress Anassa.”

He watched as the woman who wasn’t Thuli walked up to a Keshiri couple at the bar, gesturing them to follow her down a long corridor hidden behind a pair of lush velvet curtains.

Beside him, the hostess offered the drink she’d poured, and he accepted it. Not for the sake of politeness but because he felt compelled to hold something in his hands. Sensing his discomposure, she looked meaningfully towards the curtains as they fell back into place and whispered, “They say to lie with a Hapan is to open the doorway to heaven.”

The Mandalorian had heard that said many times and always dismissed it as a self-serving rumor. He didn’t pay for sex, but mercenaries loved to talk about how they would spend their take on Hapan courtesans. The most expensive pussy in the galaxy, they said. Once you’re between her thighs, you’ll forget your own name.

Now, Mando understood the truth of these stories. Well…he hadn’t forgotten his name, but she did taste like heaven.

For most of his life, sex had been about release. Lust was simply another physical need. Like hunger or sleep, he met those needs for the sake of his body. When a woman felt so inclined, he obliged—helmet sealed, armor intact—to let her take what satisfaction she could find.

With Thuli, he learned that sex could be something beyond physical pleasure. They shared a connection unlike anything he’d experienced. Real intimacy. Mando hadn’t kissed a woman since…he’d barely been a man. Still a child, really.

To be with Thulani, naked and vulnerable as he had never been before, was not about release. It was fulfillment. Satisfaction of body and soul. And, yes, part of that was being between her thighs.

In the abstract, he’d been a little intimidated, but in the moment, it had felt entirely natural. He wanted to linger over her every curve, to put his mouth over every inch of her body, and he had loved all of it—the way she tasted, her fingers tugging at his hair, how her hips lifted with his touch.

It made him feel powerful in a way he hadn’t expected, drinking her in until she was soaked and breathless under his tongue.

Then, a door had opened—a door between their consciousness, when he’d felt her pleasure cresting through his body, rippling over his skin in waves that matched the stroking of his fingers. She’d lost all control, and his whole being was suffused with her ecstasy, so intensely passionate that he saw stars behind his eyes. Maybe it was heaven?

Thulani’s trick was making people believe in her openness, yet Mando recognized how rigidly she held herself in check. He sensed the wild, fierce nature in her heart that she constrained. It made him feel both immeasurably powerful and deeply gratified to be the one who made her unravel.

“The Mandalorian asked for me?”

A woman in a crisply tailored black suit stood before him. He did not immediately recognize her species, but the horns that spiraled around her long, folded ears and convex nose reminded him of a dray goat.

“You’re Mistress Anasssa? The proprietor of this…establishment.”

“Mmm, the Mandalorian is polite for a mercenary,” she sat beside him on the bench and reached out with slender fingers (no hooves) to take the glass from between his hands. It struck him at once how artfully the gesture was both sensual and dominating. “In answer to your question…” she drank deeply. “Yes. The gentleman would be wise not to let the crystal and chandeliers fool him. This is a dungeon. And I am its master.”

“I see.” It was all he could think to say. “Boss Set’ki said you’d be expecting me.”

“My apologies. I was otherwise occupied when the Mandalorian arrived.” She looked at the untouched carafe on the table. “I am sorry my vintage is not to his taste. And none of my ladies, either, I hear. If it is males he prefers, the gentleman need only—”

“That is beyond my purpose, Mistress Anassa. I’m here on business.”

“I doubt the Mandalorian would burden himself with such formality if he intended to capture me,” the mistress smiled curiously. “What is his business?”

“I’m interested in one of your clients.”

She scoffed. “The gentleman must realize discretion is an essential tenet of my profession. Why would I betray my client to help him?”

“Because Set’ki owes me a debt. And while you may be the master of this dungeon, your master is Boss Set’ki.”

Her features became resolute. “Then let us discuss this matter in private.”

The Mistress rose and walked toward the velvet curtains. Mando followed her down the long corridor until she stopped before a door with gold flowers embossed along its hinges.

She placed a tasseled fob against the keypad. “I hope the Mandalorian will appreciate that it is to everyone’s benefit if he appears to be another of my clients?”

“Very well,” he said and stepped inside.

He wasn’t sure what he had expected. The black walls did not surprise him, but the abundance of those same red flowers, blooming from vases and wall hangings did. They matched the illuminated floor tiles that pulsed with crimson light.

Otherwise, the room was sparsely furnished to accommodate the…equipment. There was a saltire cross with a rack of whips and paddles positioned beside it and a polished steel beam with manacles chained to its post. A length of rope dangled from one of the ceiling beams overhead. Instead of a bed, a quilted leather couch sat in a far corner of the room.

Plastered across one of the walls was a diagram of knots with cautionary notes about circulation and nerve damage.

“I’m sure the Mandalorian must be very accomplished at tying knots,” Mistress Anassa said from over his shoulder.

“I prefer cuffs.”

“Mmm…” He felt her eyes rake over him with heightened interest. “I have never met a Mandalorian before, but I begin to see why you inspire so much fascination. The armor, the brute force, stalking, capture, imprisonment—all potent themes for bondage role play.”

“I am Mandalorian. Violence is my trade. Weapons are part of my religion.” Mando turned to face her. “I’m not playing a game, Mistress.”

He could tell Anassa enjoyed hearing him call her that.

“Of course. Though I’m sure someone has offered to suck your cock in exchange for their freedom. Can you honestly say their begging has never aroused you?”

Her tone was frank, not seductive. A businesswoman appraising a commodity.

“I think the Mistress has a false impression about the sorts of people I’m sent to collect.”

At that, she laughed. “Still…I see the appeal. If you’re ever interested in a new line of work, I believe the Mandalorian and I could make a great deal of money together.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Mando recalled that Thulani had said much the same thing. A Mandalorian would make good coin at one of those Keyorin brothels.

He suddenly wondered if this was something Thuli might enjoy. Bondage? Role play? The clamps and paddles didn’t exactly appeal to him, but he wouldn’t be opposed to tying her up if that’s what she wanted.

Mando looked at the steel beam, and his mind couldn’t help but stray towards fantasies of throwing her over it and fucking her senseless.

“About your client, Mistress Anassa.”

“What is it you wish to know?”

“This man, Ronan Carr,” he said, taking the holo-puck from his pocket and activating its profile. "I’m told he makes use of your services when his wife is out of town.”

Mistress Anassa schooled her features, but it was too late. He’d seen the look of panic cross her eyes the instant she recognized the man’s face.

“The Senator will be leaving on a diplomatic mission. Does Carr have an appointment scheduled for her departure?”

The Mandalorian suspected that Ronan Carr had an appointment booked for later that day. He’d been following Carr for the past week. Yesterday, the man had reserved an entire hotel floor under a false name and given his personal assistant the night off.

“He does,” the Mistress confirmed. “But I won’t help you. Boss Set’ki may kill me for my refusal. I will accept that punishment. A political assassination would condemn every soul under my care. That I will not accept.”

“I have no intention of killing Ronan Carr,” he assured her. “It’s information I want.”

“I suppose that is his trade,” her eyes weighed the Mandalorian, and she dropped the artful persona. “You won’t harm him? No kidnapping or torture?”

“If those are your terms, then I will agree. I only want to talk to him.”

“What if I have other terms?” The Mistress asked shrewdly.

“Name them.”

“I don’t want any of my people harmed.”

He nodded. “Do you know who you’ll send?”

“Yes, there are a few he favors.”

“Then give me some token or signal. But tell no one of this.”

She paused before coming to a decision. “I will go with them tonight. To ensure all will be as you promise.”

“These are your terms?”

“He’s a good client,” she waved her well-manicured hand vaguely, “And if word got out? If he thought I’d helped you?”

“Ronan Carr won’t risk the Senator discovering his…hobbies.”

“I suppose that’s true.”

“Here,” he pulled out a folded wallet and handed it to her. “To compensate for your loss of business. Though I expect a man with his proclivities should be back before long.”

“Thank you,” she gave him a curt bow. “You know where to find him?”

“Carr has gone to great lengths to conceal his plans, but yes, I know where he’ll be tonight.” And without really intending to, the Mandalorian said, “His desires make him weak.”

Mando was surprised at the scorn in his voice. Surprised to hear himself say that. Did he believe desire made him weak? His desire for Thuli?

It certainly made it difficult to concentrate. How many times did he think about her each day?

Maker, if he was being honest…he woke up thinking about Thulani, and the thought seemed to last all day. He worried about whether she was safe. He’d make some stray observation and imagine her reaction. He saw something beautiful in a window and wondered if she would like it.

When he lay inside the sleeping compartment alone, surrounded by her scent, he thought of Thuli’s mouth on him, those delicate fingers stroking his cock, and his body ached. He could not bring himself off without thinking about her.

Mistress Anassa looked at him with genuine sympathy as though she could sense his turmoil.

“Shame is Ronan Carr’s weakness,” she said. “If he were honest about his desires, you would have no power over him. His wife might even oblige. But shame feeds arousal. Maybe you can understand that?”

“Excuse me?”

Shame. Was that at the root of his sudden anger? The Mandalorian was not ashamed of his relationship with Thuli. He did not believe she made him weak.

But he did feel shame about his own selfish cowardice. That in her absence, he’d realized how deeply he cared for her, and it killed him knowing he could never say those words.

Why? Because they gave her power over him? No. Whether he said the words or not, didn’t change his feelings. But to say them aloud would be a promise. One he couldn’t make.

She’d met him on those terms, yet he felt ashamed he couldn’t give her more. She deserved better than a man who could not share his name or his face or his life with her. It would always come back to that.

“Shame is one of the most effective tools of repression,” Mistress Anassa shrugged. “But repression simply fuels temptation. Temptation transforms into desire. Desire generates more shame.”

Anassa opened a hidden panel in the wall and beckoned him forward. Lightly placing her fingers over a wooden slat, she slid it open, and a pinhole of light pierced through the room. The muffled sounds of moaning grew louder.

Gesturing toward the peephole, she said, “It’s only when we embrace our desires that we become free of this endless cycle.”

Curiosity getting the better of him, the Mandalorian looked. What he saw was the Keshiri couple from the parlor. The man was fully clothed, on all fours, his hands and knees braced against the ground. His partner was naked, splayed on his back, while the Hapan woman fucked her roughly with a strap-on.

“They were honest with each other about their desires. Now, it creates a bond rather than a wedge.”

Mando hadn’t anticipated that visiting a sex dungeon would prompt so much soul-searching. His eyes strayed back to the peephole, towards the Keshiri in the throws of climax, eyes shut tight as though she might die from ecstasy.

While he felt ashamed that he could not tell Thulani he loved her, he could at least ensure she felt loved. When he worshipped her body, when he fulfilled her desires, when he made her unravel—she would know the depth of his feelings.

“I’ve heard it said that true Mandalorians do not remove their armor. Perhaps the gentleman prefers to watch?”

He pulled the slot closed. “I’ve seen enough.”

**********

One thing the Mandalorian did appreciate about Coruscant was the simplicity of bribing government officials. As with any vast bureaucracy, front-line New Republic workers like the port operatives were overlooked and underpaid.

Flush with cash from Ryun Vos, Mando was able to dock under fake tabs at a shipyard centrally located in a safe and discreet area. Money made all things possible on Coruscant.

“Please tell me something in that bag is fried?” Nito moaned as the Mandalorian stepped inside the Razor Crest.

“I got some of everything, so your odds are good.”

The Ardennian was sitting at a makeshift table of stacked cargo containers with the Child seated in his lap. He had his mechanic’s apron on while the kid was stripped to his breechcloth. And they were both covered in paint.

“There better be a bath planned for after this,” Mando growled, reaching to wipe the Child’s talons clean with a take-out napkin.

“What? Yeah. Sorry,” Nito said dimly. “Yes! Oil bread. And rice balls! Fuck yeah!”

The Mandalorian thought vaguely that Thulani would try to curb Nito’s swearing, but he only had so much paternal energy left in him today, and he needed it for the baby.

Mando pulled the fried bread out of reach and replaced it with the box of bean pods. “Hey, kid, you need to eat at least five of these.”

His enormous ears wilted in disappointment.

“How’s the programming going?” Mando asked, searching for the sweet and sour broth.

Nito shoved a rice ball in his mouth and swallowed it whole. “Do you have any idea how complex a unified operating system for an industrial plant—with residential facilities can be?”

“No,” he admitted. “That’s why I’m paying you.”

“Paying me in more than dumplings, I hope.” Nito laughed cheerily. “Assuming it’s the Imperial coding language, I think it is…”

“We’re going to find out tonight.”

“You got Carr?”

“I know how to get to him,” Mando said. “We leave in three hours. Spend at least one of those cleaning up the kid.”

“Okay. Okay.”

The Mandalorian was relieved to have such a tidy solution for Ronan Carr. It wasn’t in his nature to wait for reconnaissance or planning. He was a blunt instrument—brute force, as Mistress Anassa had said. But Nito proved that hacking the man’s communicator could be useful. Coruscant was not the Outer Rim. Best to be cautious here.

Months ago, he would have stormed the hotel, shoved a blaster in Carr’s face, and broken the man’s fingers until he talked. Now, when Mando considered this approach, the crew from Dark Garden weighed on his conscience. Not everything needs to end in a shoot-out, Thuli had chided him. She wasn’t even here, yet her memory was wringing these little bits of decency from him.

Nito snapped his fingers in front of Mando’s viewplate. “You in there?”

“What?” He shook his head.

“You’ve been staring at those dumplings for an eternity. I want to eat them.”

Mando passed the container.

“I was telling you about this utter stroke of genius I had.” The Ardennian lifted the kid onto the table and pulled something out from his apron pocket. “So, he’s green, right? Well, I painted his face. And when I put on the bonnet…See! He’s Mirialan.”

Underneath the paint splatters, Mando recognized the geometric facial markings.

“That’s–sure, that is pretty genius.”

Nito beamed. Thuli told him things would be easier with the kids if he put in a little effort. So far, it was working.

“I mean, he hates having his ears tucked, but it’s only temporary, buddy. Just to keep you safe.”

The Child squirmed and pounded his fists against his thighs.

Mando had to suppress a laugh. “Bean pods and bonnets. Guess you got it pretty rough, kid.”

The baby stopped mid-tantrum to glare at the Mandalorian.

“Anyway,” Nito went on. “We had the paint out, so I found some packing paper…and look what he made.”

Mando tilted his head and squinted, “It’s a…bantha?”

“It’s the Razor Crest,” Nito snorted.

“If you say so.”

The kid squealed until Mando handed him a meat pie.

“I miss her too, you know.”

“What?”

“Fish dumplings are Thuli’s favorite,” Nito said quietly. “It’s hard not to miss her when she makes everything so…” he shrugged, “cozy when she’s around.”

The Mandalorian nodded. “You heard from her today?”

His heart twisted painfully in anticipation. It did every day when he asked that question. But he knew she must have checked in that morning. Nito would be inconsolable if she hadn’t.

“Yeah, I got the signal.”

Good. She's alive. Hopefully safe. “We’ll see her soon,” Mando assured them. “We’re stocked up on supplies, weapons, equipment. Once we get what we need from Carr, we can make a course for Lakaran.”

“Did you get a gift to bring her now that you guys are, you know, sleeping together?”

The Mandalorian choked on his soup. The steel jaw of his helmet caught him painfully on the lip, and he had to pound his chest a few times before he could breathe again. “Did she–ahem–did she say something…about…?”

“Didn’t have to,” Nito waved a furry hand. “For months, you’ve both just wreaked of longing and frustration. Then you came back and smelled…satisfied. Pretty logical conclusion.”

“You can smell that?”

“Oh yeah! It’s kind of funny that humans can’t since all of your emotions get communicated through hormones and sweat glands.”

Mando shook his head again. “I’m not entirely comfortable talking about this,” he sighed. “But while we’re on the subject, there are some…things I should…we should probably…discuss before we leave to find Carr.”

“What? Like, sex stuff?”

The Mandalorian groaned. Where do I even start…?

**********

The hotel Ronan Carr had booked was elegant enough for his aristocratic tastes while also offering the assurance of privacy. There was a separate entrance and elevator for the penthouse floor so he could avoid bumping into anyone from his social circle—or his wife’s senatorial colleagues—in the lobby.

Mando opted to gain entry from the roof.

“You hear something?” One of the bodyguards asked.

But just as their partner began to answer, the Mandalorian slipped behind him and placed a blade to the man’s throat. In an instant, he had grabbed the guard’s wrist and raised his blaster. Mando shot the other bodyguard before they could cry out in warning.

To stage this right, the knife needed to go in at just the right angle. But the man continued to struggle under Mando’s grip, trying to break free from his hold. The guard tried everything—stomping on the Mandalorian’s foot, slamming his head against the Beskar, thrusting his shoulders against Mando’s arm around his neck.

The bounty hunter might as well be a statue for all the give there was in his frame. The guard’s death was inevitable, but he refused to make peace with it.

Mando hooked his leg around the man’s ankle and sent them both hurtling toward the ground. The force of impact drove the knife into the guard’s throat.

A wet splatter hit his view plate when the man coughed blood onto the Mandalorian’s helmet. Yet he still fought. Hands flailed blindly until Mando drove the blade deeper, severing the spinal cord. And finally, the fingers clawing at his wrists fell limp.

He rolled the bodyguard onto his back and returned the blaster to the man’s right hand. Should be enough to cover my tracks.

Mistress Anassa had left the south-facing balcony doors unlocked, just as he instructed. They slid open with a soft rolling hush before he made his way silently through the suite. She was waiting for him in the study, hunched over a display monitor.

“You look a sight,” she arched an eyebrow at him. “Can I get you a towel?”

“No.” The blood was war paint. It would make what came next that much easier. "I staged the guards. You can claim a fight broke out, and you had to get your people to safety."

Anassa cleared her throat and nodded. It was the first time he’d seen her unsettled. “The false name on the hotel reservation avoids a paper trail, but I can’t decide whether Carr realizes Set’ki is tracking all of this.”

“Do you record him every time?”

She glared at Mando. “No, but I had a feeling my master wanted some insurance. I don’t expect Ronan Carr will be making any future appointments with Dark Garden after tonight.”

Involving Set’ki and Anassa—at all—was an unnecessary risk. The Mandalorian had done it to ensure the safety of her employees, and he didn’t feel any remorse about the Mistress’s bottom line.

“Tell them to leave the room.”

She crossed her arms with a frustrated sigh. “I know I don’t have a say in any of this, but it shouldn’t go unspoken, this is a gross violation of my professional ethics.”

“You’re arguing ethics after admitting to blackmail?”

“Those restraints are intended to aid his submission. He needs to feel safe to surrender control. And instead, you’ve co-opted them for violence.”

Mando huffed. “Are you referring to the silk scarves tied around his wrists and ankles?”

“The type of restraints are irrelevant. Bondage is a kink that depends on trust. It’s a choice to be helpless. Consent is based entirely on trust. This is a violation of trust. I feel the weight of what this will do to his psyche, and I ask you to acknowledge that before you step inside that room.”

The Mandalorian couldn’t fathom why she was looking to him to absolve her guilt.

“And I told you, violence is my profession. Get—your people—out.”

From the display screen, Mando watched as the Mistress entered the bedroom. Her sudden presence startled the other women, but she quickly ushered them into the hallway and closed the door behind her.

When he was confident they were gone, the bounty hunter opened the bedroom door. The first thing he did was drape a towel over Set’ki’s camera. Mando didn’t want any record of his presence on Coruscant.

He approached the chair Carr was bound to without bothering to stifle his footsteps. The man had a sensory deprivation mask covering his eyes and ears. He hadn’t sensed the ladies from Dark Garden leave the room, and he was becoming agitated, sitting in a puddle of urine, confused as to why they didn’t end the session.

Ronan Carr paid to be tied down and tickled until he pissed himself. The kink wasn’t inherently sexual. It didn’t make him hard. He didn’t come, and nobody brought him to completion. The tickling made him laugh and his muscles spasm, and eventually, the stress on his pelvic floor emptied his bladder.

Then, he slept for ten hours. It simply…relaxed the man.

“Whoa!” Nito said when the Mandalorian explained this. “So it’s like getting a massage? But, like, a really extreme massage.”

It wasn’t not sexual…he paid to be tickled by beautiful women, after all.

As he ripped the mask off, Mando tried not to think about Anassa’s sanctimonious pleading. He felt no remorse for Ronan Carr, either.

The bounty hunter unholstered his blaster and pointed it in the man’s face so it was the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes. On cue, Carr jumped, recoiling in terror at the sight of the Mandalorian.

“Don’t cry for help," Mando said, his voice cold and stern. "You don’t want anyone coming through that door to find you like this, do you?”

Ronan Carr shook his head.

“Good. Do what I say, and I won’t have to hurt you,” he growled. “Tell me you understand.”

Ronan Carr took a deep, steadying breath. “I understand.” The man’s voice quavered, but he didn’t panic. Some people became paralyzed with fear, which made interrogation that much harder. If Carr could keep it together, this would be over quickly.

“Untie yourself.”

Despite Mistress Anassa’s speech about trust and surrender, her words were meaningless sentiment. Ronan Carr had never given up control. The scarves were tied with enough slack that he could easily lift his hands over the headrest and pull free the knots at his wrists. After that, he only needed to lean forward to release his ankles.

“Where is everyone?” Carr asked nervously, massaging his wrists.

The man was wiry, more muscular than the bounty hunter expected from someone who spent his life behind a desk. Intimidation was his best tactic to keep Carr in check. Use of physical force would only complicate things. And he made a deal with Anassa.

“You don’t need to know what I did with them. Worry about yourself.”

After a lifetime of doing this work, Mando knew most people’s imagination was far darker than any threat he could make. The man looked at the blood splattered across his helmet, and all the color drained from Ronan Carr’s face.

“What is it you want?”

“I need something, and you’re the person who can get it for me.”

“My wife—”

“This has nothing to do with the Senator. And it doesn’t have to. You give me what I want, and she won’t discover what you get up to under the name ‘Kirk Satu.’” Carr’s eyes went wide with horror. “The piss play makes for an awkward conversation, but I think all the bank transfers will be harder to explain.”

Now, he had the man’s full attention. “What do you want?”

“First, I want you to put some clothes on. Meet me in the study when you’re ready.”

The man’s suit hung neatly from the bathroom door, yet he stared at the garment like it might transform into a torture device.

“You’re not—you aren’t going to lock me in?”

“We both know you won’t run,” Mando said. “You’re going to do what I tell you. Then you can forget all about this.”

The look on Carr’s face when he walked into the study made it clear this encounter would haunt him for some time.

“Is your communicator on?” Nito asked from behind his data-pad. “Your real one. Not the burner?”

“What?” Ronan Carr stammered. “I–yes.” When the notification bell chimed, he pulled the device out from his pocket.

“Okay, read me the security code.”

“Wait! This is about work? You want something from the Archives?”

Carr looked between Nito and the Mandalorian.

“You do realize the New Republic Library doesn’t store any military or intelligence records. This is not…what could you possibly need that isn’t already publicly available?”

Mando thrust his blaster in the man’s face. “Ask me about my business again and see what happens to you.”

“The security code?” Nito drolled.

Mando grabbed the communicator from Carr and handed it to the Ardennian.

“I’m just…we have a records request system online…”

“For redacted documents!” Nito howled. “If you guys just uploaded everything onto the Net, you could enjoy your tickle party and we wouldn’t be here.”

Ronan Carr’s face turned scarlet. “It’s our responsibility to make sure sensitive information doesn’t fall into the hands of…criminals.”

What a fucking hypocrite. “Can we hurry this up?” Mando barked. The fact that the bodyguards in the foyer hadn’t burst into the penthouse meant that Mistress Anassa had done her part. But their luck wouldn’t last long.

“Well, it’s not my fault the file structure isn’t intuitive,” Nito looked at Ronan Carr with disgust. “And you call yourself an Archivist?”

“I–I don’t oversee information architecture.”

“Ah! Okay…security question for the download. What is the name of your first pet?”

When Nito had the files he needed, Mando thrust a disc into Carr’s hands.

“What—?”

“I lied when I said this didn’t involve your wife. That’s for her. From a former Rebel fighter, Ubaa Dir. Remember the name. The next time you hear it, give the Senator that disc. You’ll know when.”

“How will I explain—”

“You’d rather explain the sex workers and money laundering? Figure–it—out,” Mando snapped, and Ronan Carr jumped.

This time, the Mandalorian did lock him inside the bedroom.

He found Mistress Anassa in the living room, offering the Child sugar cubes from an abandoned tea service tray.

"I'm done here," Mando said, watching as the kid delightedly crunched the crystals between his teeth. "He's unharmed, as per the terms of our deal. Are you satisfied?"

"Very," she smiled serenely at him. "I thought I'd be spending the night cleaning brain matter off the walls. Instead, I got to play with an adorable baby."

Anassa lifted the Child from her hip and handed him back to the Mandalorian.

"You still want me to bind and gag you?" Mando asked. "I could just lock you inside, like I did with Carr? It might take him a while to break out, by the way."

"No," she shook her head. "I've got to sell this if there's a chance I can retain his trust. And he'll need a witness to help explain what happened to the guards." Mistress Anassa looked thoughtfully at the Mandalorian. "When life hands you an opportunity, it's best to seize it with both hands."

"Very well." Mando reached for the plush, decorative rope tying back the curtains—he could at least ensure that she was comfortable.

"Speaking of which," the Mistress grinned. "I do hope you'll reconsider my offer. There are a number of ways we could leverage your particular talents at the Dark Garden."

The Mandalorian offered her a chair.

"After listening to the ruthlessness in your voice saying, You're going to give me what I want..." she shivered rather theatrically. "Fear is a very potent form of arousal. I'm confident we could find clients looking for nothing more than degradation."

The audacity of her proposal impressed him, and his mouth quirked into a begrudging smile beneath the Beskar helmet.

"I'll keep that in mind," he said.

"And what knots do you plan to use?"

Mando huffed—not quite a laugh. This was beginning to feel like an audition. "A bowline. But I can use a hitch knot if you prefer?"

"Merely professional curiosity," Mistress Anassa grinned, sitting in the armchair as though it were a throne. "Do you have a suggestion for the gag?"

The Mandalorian cocked his head, "Give me your necktie."

He wasn't entirely comfortable with how much keen interest lit up her face. A businesswoman through and through.

She hurriedly fished something out of her suit pocket. "Take my card. You're a working father, after all. It pays to be flexible when there are mouths to feed."

****************

Continue reading: Volume 4-Post #5: Wish You Were Here!

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