#im stretched THIN dudes

[finneander]

just one 40 quid transaction please. and then another. and one more couldn't hurt

[chrysanthemum-juice]

Honestly I've been working soo much and now I have to spend time with my boyfriend bit im so fucking exhausted but I miss him dude I have work in the morning

[lakesbian]

here's every way wildbow accidentally made pre-meiosis "russel" thorburn transgender that i can remember. if you can think of any reasons i forgot please add on

his parents named his younger sister "ivy," as if the obvious grandmother-pandering name "rose" had already been used up. blake theorizes that they used a male version of "rose" for PMT, but this is nonsensical--there is no male form of the name rose, and everything he comes up with as a possible option (in other words, everything wildbow came up with as a possible option) is a major stretch. most don't sound even tangentially like the name "rose." it makes far more sense to assume that PMT was afab and had the deadname rose. (this also makes sense on a thematic level wrt how rose thorburn jr is supposed to be the Real heir that grandmother is forcing blake to die for, but that's getting besides the point)

rose has memories of being harassed over the inheritance by her female cousins, and the idea of these memories just being wholly pulled out of thin air when basically everything else involves memories either being split btwn blake and rose or erased altogether is weird

blake is friends with, like. a lot of gay people. textually runs in poor gay artist circles. the idea of them adopting this weirdly cool cis straight guy is funny but it makes a lot more sense if PMT was trans + gay and only got turned into a straight guy (and a straight girl) yesterday, due to the homophobia demon

PMT literally thinks "Besides, why devote any more attention to your son, when you could just start over?  Have that beautiful baby girl you wanted, right?" which is also like one of the only pieces of internal narration we get from PMT in the entire story. first girl they named rose ran away and did some shit with their gender so now they have a second girl they can't name rose but can still try to raise to go for the inheritance

in the same chapter as when pmt says that, callan is like ohhh you think youre going to worm your way in-, implied sentence ending being "-to the inheritance," which is, like. the family knows it's going To A Girl. so.

PMT was childhood friends with paige, who is The Gay Cousin. it is deeply sensible to imagine them bonding over this, regardless of whether or not PMT (or even paige) knew at the time

it is, like, fully possible for a cishet dude to get sick of living with his shitty toxic abusive family and abscond at the age of 17, but also homelessness is an extremely prevalent issue among transgender kids in abusive families. the narrative of a transmasc kid growing up in an abusive, catholic extended family where girls are pressured to compete for a very gendered inheritance + leaving at the age of 17 & finding a new home among a bunch of gay artists is Significantly more compelling than the cis dude alternative. it just is.

okay i think im running out of, like, logical errors that make sense only if pmt was trans prior to the Obliteration, so as for the thematic stuff. like i said, rose being the half grammy decided was supposed to be "real" and blake being the half that's supposed 2 die for her 2 exist, rose just being unhappy and disconnected by nature of existence while blake is the parts of pmt that escaped from the constraints of the family + found happiness, so on and so forth. "catholic grandmother literally obliterated her transmasc nonbinary grandchild by splitting them into two binary gendered halves & expecting that the man they could've been die to allow the acceptable woman--literally forced to dress in grandmother's clothes--live on and do as grandmother wished" is Everything, doing the same thing but to a cis man grandchild is significantly less compelling

Others who r very old/operating on what are explicitly stated to be oppressive and antiquated gender roles as per the book's themes about inherited/traditional forms of harm keep mistakenly calling blake she/her and rose lmao

??? probably some other thangs im forgetting

[mondaymelon]

Melon! I get you! That’s why one of my wip is a princess that should be sacrificed to this evil dragon but actually he’s just lonely, and his this cool dragon dude, with his lovely bestie (that is the Love Interest) and it’s just cute saphic romance and all.

Wanna be friends? Because actually you seem friendly. 💖🧁

ahhhhh yesufysyso the plot for mine. its gay. because yk IM STARVED of medieval fantasy bl ships. basically theres kingdom a and kingdom b which i will later name because for now my brain has taken on the form of a puddle but BASICALLY

kingdom a and kingdom b dont like each other and theyve basically been in war for the past decade and its stretching both countries thin and both are running out on food supplies army men etc etc so then kingdom a's all okay enough with this shit !!! here. i give you a princess for your prince to marry. yes? yes.

BUT UH OH !!! actually, the royal family has a CURSe 😱😱 which basicallly makes it so the family is unable to birth females... so that ahem. "princess" theyre sending? nah. its the 8th prince, the one that no one really cares about, but hes got a pretty face and a thin figure so they dcide to ship the poor guy off. and since they know that he'll be found out on wedding night, kingdom a is working secretly behind the scenes in forming more armies and procuring more war supplies to absolutely obliterate kingdom b and catch them by surprise !!1 VINE BOOM.

AND THEN OMG. ROMANTIC CONFLICT BETWEEN THE PRINCE AND THE OTHR PRINCE AND JSDOFJDSFJDLKS I WAS ACTUALLY GONNA MAKE A FANCOVER OF IT CALLED "약혼자님, 제 말을 믿어주세요!" LIKE ANY OTHER GENERIC THINGY AND LIKE DRAW EM OUT AND EVERYYYYTHING.

ahem. that was a bit of a silly. and omg !! sacrificing is great. yesyesyes lets be friends! you also seem pretty silly 🧁

[paint-lady]

List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who reblogged something from you! get to know your mutuals and followers <3

ttrpgs with my friends. I sometimes get stretched thin between all the games im in, but id rather spend time with yall and be a little tired than not hear you guys at all.

blasting my music with the windows down - its finally warm enough for me to have the windows rolled down

i have a much better living situation. Its nice to not be living somewhere that was slowly sinking into the ground

recently i got to organize all my artwork from middleschool to present day. I like seeing my art change and grow over the years.

my cat is a goofy lil dude and his favorite toys are a box lid and a piece of tie line.

[ilguna]

Make sure to take care of your self lovely with all these requests coming in left, right, and center. Your writing is phenomenon and your characterisation of litrally evey character is spot on! Just make sure you look after your self when you can, and don't stretch your self too thin with these hundreds of requests. Xx

dude you don’t even KNOW how many requests i’m harboring right now 😭 it’s a lot but i wanna write them all but it’s also kinda overwhelming.

i appreciate you!! and your kind words 💛 i promise that im taking care of myself between the requests because there’s no way ill make it through if i don’t. a part of me wishes i could get these out quicker somehow but there’s no wayyyy

i hope you have a wonderful day!!!

[llycaons]

ep12: why doesn't anyone ever gif the manure scene?

I had such a great time watching this episode. it may be one of my favorites. it's funny. there's important relationship beats between the wens and wwx. there's drama. there's foreshadowing. the kids are not having a good time, but it's not so dire as to be painful to watch. lwj being wounded adds a flair to his character. and it has some nice wwx moments

he says this, and I believe he means it. he just can't help himself I fear

STAY AWAY FROM HER

ohhh bundled herbs from the ceiling

maybe one of the first Great Wei Wuxian Moments. god this was so funny. starting with the smirk at lwj like 'look what I'm about to do baby' such a showoff. and then the stretching. sob. I can't believe more people weren't in love with him

I read somewhere that wwx reciting the lan rules was like an injoke to the rest of the kids - they all shared this experience together than wen chao didn't. it's a reminder of a happier time, a reminder that they're all in this together. it makes jc roll his eyes, but jzx fights a smile

see, wwx complained about CR being strict and unfair, and it was, but they weren't at risk of this kind of physical violence or threats against their family. the food was apparently good. the lans were highly respected and the students learned important lessons about cultivation. although it seemed stressful at the time, it was probably the last extended period of time they were all safe and in a stable position. I mean, compared to being at the mercy of wen chao? man's a maniac. in CR they got to go to lantern festivals and weren't locked in their quarters

he's just very funny in this pose. and then they get called for MANURE DUTY and they're all like

THEY'RE ALL SO UPSET. LWJ IS SO MAD. HELP. wwx is like 'oh my god lan zhan. omg im sorry baby I never planned on this' lmao it's just manure. these rich guys could do a lot worse. it doesn't even smell that bad. and yeah I know I said in the past wwx is a sweetheart guy well now I think he's a baby guy

this visual is so funny

wwx standing up for himself 🥰🥰🥰🥰 god he is so badass he just grabbed that whip out of thin air. that would be a defining scene for a minor character but he does cooler shit on a daily basis so it's just a footnote

JZX STANDING UP FOR WWX! I seriously think in an AU where things didn't go to shit, they would have gotten along after growing up a bit

lwj was so ready to go into that dungeon with him but wwx refused...

HELLO ANIMATRONIC DOG!!!!!

you can't tell in a screenshot, but these walls are shaking as wwx pounds them in a way that makes it clear they're cheaply made and very thin irl. this adds to the charm I think

wq showing up to jc's prison/house and all either of them care about is wwx but then jc is like 'ummmm lady wen are you okay 🥺" and wq is like 'im fine gtg' it's so funny

WEN NING!!!!! HERO!!! I love seeing how early wn and wwx's bond became very strong. bc wwx and wen ning are both people who do the right thing no matter what authority tells them not to

Hellfire Palace....cool name

it is so sad to see wwx pretend like his injuries and mental trauma are nothing but even sadder is seeing jc yelling at him for not taking it seriously enough? dude, I think he knows how horrific it just was. HE WAS THERE. and if he won't take it seriously, doesn't that mean you just want to keep a closer eye on him instead of adding to his stress? god he sucks so bad as a caretaker and emotional support. I swear. I know jc cares about wwx but he constantly disregards his suffering even when he knows it has to be bad. there's being emotionally constipated then there's just being extremely emotionally neglectful of someone who you're supposed to care about. fucking jzx showed more defense and concern for wwx than jc did this episode

here's wwx holding jc back as wc threatens LP. he does the same for lwj, way later on

wen ning standing up to his sister!!! go wen ning!!!!

NHS EPIC FAINTING MOVE!!! love how we are never told how he gets back to qinghe. we just don't see him after this for a while and then he's back home. how? who knows. its nhs

WANG LINGJAO MY HORRIBLE QUEEN

um okay this is so funny. you can see lwj in pain trying to walk, wwx is watching with his heart clearly aching, wuji is going all gently. romantic moment incoming. but the thing is...everyone in this scene is just wandering very slowly in circles. wwx and jc are just standing there. lwj could also just be standing still like wwx is. there is no need to walk anywhere legend <3

jc going 'stop helping people!' kind of makes sense from the paranoid mind of a 16 year old boy, but in a moral, personal, AND political sense it doesn't. wwx sees someone he clearly cares about in need and wants to help them, and it's a sect heir! of course this is a good idea! jc knows that wwx won't walk away from something important to him, and it's just wrong to ignore him anyway when he could be disabled for life

jc seems to grasp at straws to keep wwx from leaving him. he leans on 'he doesn't like you' and 'focus on our family instead' even tho they are literally just standing there and I def think part of it is jealousy. he can tell wwx likes lwj and he's uneasy about wwx being pulled in another direction. also, panicked about their home being invaded and wanting all the support he can get. but wwx stands firm. there is something that needs doing! he will do it! I always liked this about him

oh, wwx removing jc's hand from his arm. the symbolism...

when he said this the first time I lose my mind, I was like "that's what YOU'RE always doing you dork!!!" on my first watch I hadn't known how the general caretaking dynamic would be between them and I still quite like wwx looking out for and protecting lwj. this is something they share, and something wwx mentions about wq too, early on

I just think this is a sweet and genuine smile

[fred-and-george-weasley-my-loves]

Chapter 1

|Eugenes's POV|

it was a cold October morning at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and I had just woken in my dorm room, I suppose during the night I had fallen onto the ground because now me and my fluffy green blanket were on the floor, I stretch my awkwardly long yet thin arms as I slowly yawn and try to stand up, still tired, I stand now stretching my legs and realizing my dorm mates had already went down for breakfast, I panic as I look at my clock as it says "8:46am" on the small screen, my dark brown eyes widen, in a panic I start putting on my black slacks, feeling uncomfortable as they're rather tight and not quite what I like in pants but it is the least of my problems at the moment

Right now my two biggest problems are 1 I don't want to miss breakfast and 2 Claire is most definitely going to be worried out of her mind. I quickly throw on a ravenclaw sweater that I for sure didn't steal from my dearest and best friend, Michele Anderson, we've been friends since our first year on the boats to the Hogwarts castle, I still remember being super sad that we weren't in the same house, but then again we were 11, I smile at the memory of meeting Michele.

I toss on my Emerald necklace and walk out of the slytherin dorms, into the common room, waving at the few slytherins that either weren't hungry or had finished their food early.

Im now in the great hall and I sit down next to my friend, Henrietta, at the slytherin table, I watch as I see a very familiar short third year brunette hufflepuff stomping up to me and Etta, the younger girl looks worried sick, she also seems to examining my face and arms, they sigh as they notice I'm not even wearing my own sweater, "oh merlin, Eugene, late for breakfast and wearing Micheles sweater?? Do you even know how worried I was?? What if you DIED or something worse??" She says this anxiously and fast, I hear Henrietta chuckle next to me which causes Claire to give her a death glare, I also chuckle softly and quietly and tell her, "Clar, I appreciate your, errrr, concern, but I'm fine, you're acting like you're my mother", I see her pout as if she's a three year old, I chuckle and they roll their eyes and say, now more calmly and less anxiously but her voice always has a rather nervous tone to it " whatever, sooooo, are you two excited for Hogsmeade?"

"uhhhh, fuck yeah, I always am!" I hear Henrietta's beaming voice from my side, I smile at the girls but I start to realize the stares from a handful of other slytherin students which is starting to make me a bit uncomfortable but they soon turn their heads away as our conversation gets quieter, "so, what are we going to do?" I ask, trying to make my voice quieter even though I rarely do be quiet but I really don't like the attention we're getting from just talking, they notice and also act more chill especially Claire.

We talk and talk, not paying attention to the food by this point, breakfast is over and we're now going to the girls slytherin dorm, sneaking in claire with us into the dorm

As we're walking there a familiar face comes up to the three of us, its no other than my best friend ever, Michele, she comes up to us and hugs me and fist bumps Henrietta and Claire, I swear I could see claire blushing a bit when seeing Ella but I brush it off even though Henrietta is lightly teasing her about it which causes Claire to lightly smack her hand in annoyance.

"guys! Guess what!" The ravenclaw girl says excitedly

i hear Henrietta sigh next to me "what is it...?" Claire asks with a dopey smile on her face that she only gets around Michele although she still sounds a bit confused

"some Gryffindor boy gave me 4 tickets to a Hogwarts Trainwreck concert! Apparently the dudes friends are pretty flaky" Michele says, sounding excited as hell to go to the concert with us and obviously we all are excited

We all agree and I can't even see my own face but I know for a fact I probably have the most excited face out of everyone

NEXT CHAPTER WILL BE OUT SOON

[bpdrug-addict]

ik I just saw my Dr but I need to go back immediately bc im p sure I have CFS/fibromyalgia and I forgot to ask for insomnia medication. been working lately n im exhausted n have hardly been sleeping the last couple days n my body is feeling more n more painful and stretched thin every single day dude. eating hurts, not eating hurts, my body aches all the time, I keep getting new random bruises and rashes and my acnes coming back rlly bad and God am I just tired dude.

[orcelito]

Im apparently going to be attending the manager meetings every Monday from tomorrow on 😥

[heonie-ween]

.

[sleepingfancies]

Whoever just sent me an "you're an asshole for not reblogging my art" ask ANONYMOUSLY, I just have to say. Bruh

[helenofsimblr]

Guy: Yes, I won't move. Thank you.

Isaac: I certainly won't! Don't fancy getting a spear through my head! 

Ozen: It will be a huge favor I'm asking of someone, but I am sure I can get someone to give you a ride to the mainland.

He bows slightly and leaves. 

Cat *smiling*: Yes, he's been most generous to me. I have asked too much of him, I think. Yet he still tries.

Guy: Thank you for agreeing to help me. I've... Oh gods... I've done nothing but lie, and cheat, for godsdamned years to make this happen, and now... There's a godsdamned monster waiting…

Cat *nodding*: You've done a lot to protect them. You're probably up for at least three nominations for greatest big brother ever.  You also look like you could use about a weeks worth of sleep. Why were you drinking?

She was trying to break a bit of the tension, 

***

Isaac: He was drowning his sorrow's pining after his crush, and also the fact that he's seriously pissed off every professor in the faculty and they are threatening to kick him out of university.

Guy: Harsh, but, basically true. I'd also add that the District Intelligence want to take my fathers body and if they do that, then, that's it. He will be dissected to find out how he ticks. 

Cat flashed Isaac a glare for his flippant remark.

Cat: Well, you've had more than school on your plate... you've stretched yourself too thin Guy. We will get back there and try to bring him out of it soon as Ozen returns.

Guy just breathed a sigh of relief. 

Guy:  I see why my mom likes you so much.

Cat *smiling*: Yeah, she had to... she put up with me and my antics for a few years.

Guy: This is going to create some serious fallout, Im gonna put my mom through hell if this works, I mean she’s aboard with it, I think... but...

Cat: She's weathered most things fairly well. I think if we get your father back for her, she might do better.

Guy nodded agreement enthusiastically.

***

Isaac: So will you be the inclusivity and diversity meeting tomorrow?

Guy: Dude!! I don't know. I might be dead by tomorrow... Death would be preferable to the meeting though...

[jangofctts]

Bloodsport (din djarin x fem!reader) (part one) 

rated: 18+

word count: 5.4k

warnings: smut, knife kink (no blood is drawn and consent is clearly given), blowjobs, vaginal fingering, din is sorta a virg duDE, alcohol, mentions of violence (reader punches someone in the face kwejrkejh), some gambling (sabaac) also please let me know if I missed anything!

a/n: oOf this is the first fic in sO LONG IM SO SORRY YALL KEHJRKEJH BUT ANYWAYS I HOPE YOU ENJOY

It’s been a couple months since Din’s stepped foot on the sandy nightmare of a planet. Went through hell and back and kriff—it feels like a lifetime ago. But the landscape before him hasn’t changed an inch, Mos Eisley same as always—busy with all sorts of scum and villainy he turns a blind eye to. 

Din hopes it’s not the only thing that’s stayed the same—selfish as it is. Someone as volatile as you is bound to catalyze and shift, so is the nature of life. A lot can happen in a month or two and it’s ridiculous to think that you would ever push your life to the side and wait for him to return.    

Turns out, you are here, still working as the resident mechanic. Though in the same elated breath of hearing that tidbit of news, it’s equally dissatisfying when he somehow misses you completely. You’re off planet, looking for power converters and electrical wiring—back in few days Peli promises. Maybe by the time his wild goose chase is over, back from the butt fuck middle of nowhere, he’ll get to see you— 

Nothing goes as planned—naturally. All Din finds is a man playing dress up, an oversized lizard, planetary drama he’s forced to resolve and—to top it all off—an attempted stickup. Maker—he’s not even worried about anything save for the kid and your speeder. The very same one now scattered over the sand in miserable heaps.           

At least some of it is salvageable…

By the time Din reaches the outskirts of Mos Eisley, the binary suns are smearing across the horizon like molten puddles of magma. Deep aches amass in his shoulders and back from the weight of the speeder parts, his gear, and the second pair of armor. Maker—it feels like his arms are going to be ripped off.

The baby babbles something incomprehensible. 

“Almost there, kid,” Din responds, sparing a quick glance down the baby. “How does soup sound?”

Instead of trudging back to the hangar, Din wanders to the cantina. Call it a hunch or just you and your aunt’s tendency to lurk around the premises, he’s certain he’s going to find one of you here. 

Din is right.

The moment he steps inside, he spots your mess of hair, the low solar lights illuminating the rich colors with a soft orange. The baby coos and blinks up at Din, his tiny clawed finger gesturing in your direction. 

Din hums. “Good job—you found her.” 

The child’s little teeth peek out, pleased with his discovery. Din steps into the doorway, down the carven stairs and over to your table. A older man—a ship rigger by the looks of his uniform—sits across from you, a game of Sabaac spread across the table between you. You’re winning. 

“Hello, Shiny.” You greet, dipping your chin in his direction. “Your armor is looking a tad ripe.” 

It’s true. The layer of slime coating his armor had baked and crusted under the suns—probably doesn’t smell too good either… 

“I killed a Krayt dragon.” Din states it with a twinge of smug satisfaction despite knowing how little something like that would mean to you. He could conquer three dozen planets and shower you in all the precious metals in the world and you’d still turn your nose up at everything.  

“And I curb stomped a centipede today—you aren’t special.” Your eyes never leave the set of worn cards you hold between your fingers, acutely ignoring him like you would an overly enthusiastic puppy. You inhale and scrape your right thumbnail along the edge of the hexagonal cardstock—it’s a subtle tell, one Din would more than likely miss if he were the unlucky bastard brave enough to sit at the other end of the table.  

“You playin’ or what?” Your opponent gripes. He scratches his unkempt salt and pepper stubble and quirks a furry brow. 

You lift your chin in scorned defiance and lay your hand down—full Sabaac. The man hisses through his crooked, clenched teeth and utters a curse as he shoves his winnings towards your end of the table.  

“Peli promised me information.” Din pushes, hearing the kid coo in curiosity as you begin shuffling the cards with practiced flare. “About others like me.”

“Do I look like my aunt to you?” You grumble. It’s the first time your eyes leave the perimeter of the game to look at him. They settle on the kid first with a guarded version of compassion, then leap to the faded green armor clipped to the heavy luggage, and then his visor. Your lip twitches at the green slime still coating the beskar. “I’m assuming my speeder didn’t make it.”

“A technical difficulty.”

You roll your eyes and snort, dealing out the cards then setting the stack in the middle. “Right…”

The background ambiance of the bar and the quiet rasp of cards fill the brief lull in conversation. Any other rational person would take the blaring hint to leave, but Din is just as stubborn as you are. 

“I don’t remember where the hangar is,” Din lies, cocking his head to the side in mock innocence, “could you show me?” 

The tip of your tongue peaks out of the corner of your mouth. The unconscious tic is not one of irritation—not yet. Though before you’re able to respond, your opponent beats you to it. 

“Yeah—I know where it is. It’s between fuck off and take a hike.”  

Din turns his head, the cool, even tone of his words sharper than shrapnel as he address the man. “I was speaking to her.”        

This is funny to you Din realizes—one of the tiny mysteries of your entirety clicking into the place of the puzzle map he’s conjured for you. 

“Well, I don’t have the time of day for cowards who wear shiny buckets over their head.” The man gripes into his drink, dark eyes flicking over to Din as he sizes him up. “What’s a Mandalorian doing out here anyway? Thought your planet exploded or something.”

The man’s ignorance irks him—sure. How could it not? But with years of harsh words and jabs at the foundation of Din’s very being, he’s learned to adapt. It’ll always sting no matter how many layers of beskar he wears but you on the other hand…

Your eyes spark, molten and bright like the last solar flare on the surface of a decaying star. Each encounter Din’s had with you, he’s bared witness to the deep well of your anger that fuels your being like the auto-mechanical heart of a droid. He’s felt the bite of your rage firsthand, but this anger—this is the tragedy of the delicate mayfly wings trapped between the black teeth of misfortune—the story of the boy who rammed a spear into the flank of an ancient beast that bites before it barks and gnashes its yellowed teeth in warning.

Din’s hand inches towards his blaster. He’s not willing to weigh the safety of the kid against your rash decisions, despite it being on his behalf.   

Though, just as quick as it appears, it recedes like the cool drawback of a tumultuous ocean. Din’s arm relaxes at his side as you release a puff of air. 

Your scuffed up fingers, stained with years of engine grease, scars and dirt, curl around your half finished drink. You stand, lay your cards face down onto the table and flash the stranger a feral grin.

Without a word, you toss your drink directly into the man’s unsuspecting eyes. In another breath, the pointed edges of your knuckles fly forward and hook beneath the point of his chin with a meaty thunk. The man’s head whips backwards and connects with the gravely wall—

Out like a light.  

Jaw clenched tight, you shake out your bleeding knuckles and gather up the strewn credits over the table. You shove them into the pockets of your jacket and side eye Din. “Restitutions for damages,” you mutter. 

The other patrons keep their eyes to themselves as the three of you hurry out the door. Only an apathetic glance from the bar tender serves as proof that something did, in fact, occur. No one wants to dirty their nose sniffing about where they shouldn’t be when they have their own business to safeguard.

The crisp night air rustles the stray strands of hair that escape from your ponytail. Ghostly moonlight carves the shape of your cheeks into an almost ethereal sight—one of those deep space creatures with pointy teeth and hellfire for eyes. Stuff of legends you’d never think to look in a dingy bar for.     

But he knows—Din knows that cool mask is just a front from what you hide. It is a hungry ghost that hounds your thin stretched shadow—what ifs and the glories of war you never really escaped. You forget that you are flesh and blood and ghosts are only air and echoes, nothing more. 

Din is sharp edged steel. A stray fragment of a shattered mirror, the lacerated reflection of a nameless purpose and a faceless existence. He’s torn edges and cracked glass but his heart beats within his chest with the blood of a thousand suns. Two souls under the umbrella of the word damaged but entirely different in nature.     

“No one—“ you growl, your voice a steady and lethal timbre that terrifies a part of Din’s unconsciousness, “—speaks that way to my friends.” 

Touching. 

“Don’t look at me like that, Creature,” you huff, staring down at the child who gurgles in return. “He deserved it—“

The reunion certainly wasn’t the one Din imagined, though it’s a relief to find that there’s no roughened edge like sandpaper over skin wedged between you. Picked up right where you left off—no questions asked and no inglorious retelling of how Din nearly died on the floor of a shitty cantina. There’s not a doubt in his mind that you'd laugh at him for it—it is sorta funny…   

The rest of the evening is spent walking back to the hangar, arguing over the fact that yes Din should take the couch instead of that miserable little hovel he calls a bed, and spend the night. He’d have to find some other mechanic to work through the night if he wanted to leave in the morning, because you certainly did not want to volunteer for that. And so—Din reluctantly takes the couch and agrees to let you tackle the monstrosity of fixing up his ship for tomorrow. 

He has to admit…the couch is a bit smaller than the length of his body, but it’s comfortable…maybe he’d buy a better blanket while he was here. As a treat.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- 

You purse your lips and whistle. “I swear each time I see it, it gets worse. Y’know, I know a couple guys selling—“ 

“Can you fix it?”

You fold your arms over your chest and roll your eyes.“Yeah I can fix it, jeez—no need to get your undies in a twist.” 

You try not to take offense, because hey—you’re offering him the info on the good deals on new ships (and at this point anything would be better than this old rust bucket). But if Din doesn’t want anything to do with that, then whatever. His loss.   

When you wander onto the ship, toolbox in hand, the Mandalorian tags along. Unsure if he doesn’t trust you with his things or just wants to hang out, it blankets the space with an air of uncertainty. Turns out it was neither of those guesses. All he does is throw open his stash of weapons, collect his pile of vibroknives, and set them on a table to polish and sharpen. 

Makes sense, you suppose. Everything has to be as shiny as his armor. 

You drop to your knees near the closest wiring panel you find. You wrench open the paneling and frown at the disarray of sparking wires and tangled cords. You organized these perfectly last time he was here. “Who the fuck junked up my rigging?”

Mando sits at the little table tucked away in the corner, brooding over his cache of weapons. He shrugs. “Could’ve come loose when I landed.” 

You roll your eyes at his half assed excuse and mutter a foul string of curses under your breath that’d make even Peli wince. It’s fine. It’s cool—no biggie. You can sort through this in a couple hours, maybe three. 

But of course rarely anything goes as planned. As time ticks away, arms deep in wires older than the kriffing Clone Wars, the distractions begin. The scrape of metal on durasteel makes the hair rise into little pricks all up your arms—you shoot a glare over your shoulder. Din tilts his head, your kneeling self reflecting within the ever dark visor, features scrunched into an obvious tell of annoyance. Huffing, you bury your head back into your task at hand. 

The second distraction arrives in the form of a quiet hum of curiosity originating from the Mandalorian. Out of the corner of your eye you see him bring a vibroblade up to his visor, inspecting the notch in the blade that disrupts the electrical current that flows through the weapon. Din then rubs his thumb over the handle of the vibroblade in a slow, sensual circle. You lick your lips and tear your eyes away. That shouldn’t be hot.

You furrow your brows and tear apart another wire, but the metallic tap, tap, tap of Din bouncing the tip of a different blade over the table is bothersome. You swing your head to your left, mouth parting to snap at him, but his hand—sans glove—brings you to a halting stop. 

It’s alluring, the way his long, weathered fingers twirl the knife with practiced ease—like silk through water and followed by the low hum of electricity meant to slice through flesh. Din tosses it in the air, watching it spin three rotations then catches it by the handle. Your lips purse when his visor meets your eyes. He spins it between his fingers.  

“Am I bothering you?”

Fucker.   

You scowl. “It’s fine.” 

The soft rasp of his thumb sliding along the flat of the blade entices the eye and damnit—he’s doing this on purpose. 

“Doesn’t seem fine,” he hums. 

“Well, it is.” You retort hotly. You snatch up your pliers and imagine you’re pulling his teeth out in place of the crooked paneling. “I’m currently thriving in my element.”  

Din hums, the sound buzzing with grainy distortion. “Do you want a closer look?”

You chew your bottom lip. He’s playing with an open flame and you with volatile jet fuel. 

“I don’t know, seems kinda lame from here.” You scoff, busying yourself by pinching and twisting another set of frayed wires between your fingertips. “A toothpick if anything.”

Din snorts behind you. The deadly whisper of beskar against the durasteel tabletop makes the hair on the back of your neck prick into points. You tense as heavy boots shuffle along the floor, the near silent rustle of armor tinkling behind you as Din steps closer. You’re slow to stand, even though the presence of the Mandalorian is no less than overbearing. You wipe your grimy hands onto a spare rag, continuing to face the paneling. You then turn, a coy smile threatening to break across your face. 

Stars Din is broad—and close enough you swear you’re able to see the perspiration of your breath fog the beskar plating. Your eyes follow the seams of the cuirass, across the leather bandolier and up to his helmet that’s fixed in an impassive glare of tempered steel. Your back bumps into the wall as Din takes another step forward, boxing you in. To escape you’d need to duck under his arm and yet…you refuse to move.   

Your breath catches as he languidly lifts his hand and taps the flat side of the vibroblade over your collarbone. The sharpened point tickles up the column of your throat, a crackle of nerves and your pounding pulse following in its wake. Din turns the blade to flat edge and pushes into the space right below your jaw—you squirm when he chuckles, the sound low and deep. 

“You like this…”

Din grunts as your hand reaches between his legs, squeezing the growing hardness there. “So do you.” 

Din circles his hand around your wrist with his free palm. Moons above his hands are warm. He murmurs your name—you shiver. “Tell me you want this—want me.”

A blush, hotter than the surface of Tatooine in the midday sun, rushes up your neck and pools into the apples of your cheeks. Maker you want him. With a shuddering sigh you nod—braving the scathing shrapnel of vulnerability. “I need you, Din—please.”

A low chuckle rumbles through Din’s chest. “Don’t think I’ve ever heard you say please before.”

Din drops his hold on your wrist as you roll your eyes. “Shut up, Bucket Head.”

The Mandalorian snorts and dips his head—gesturing towards the blade still lightly pressed against the base of your throat. “This ok too, Skitter?”

You flash him a wolfish grin. “Gonna fuck me with it?”

Din swears under his breath, crowding his body closer to yours. You hear his strained sigh as he dips his head closer, the beskar a chilly whisper against your cheek. “You’re depraved…take off your pants.”

You smirk, tear off your belt and shimmy out of your pants and underwear, bottom half now bare. His visor dips, entranced.  

Your heart leaps into your throat, your pulse roaring in your ears as he settles one of his bare hands over the swell of your hip while the other trails the blunt edge of the handle from your clothes collarbone, and down your belly. From your mid thigh he skates the handle up your bare thigh and then rests it over the crack of your thigh. Heat flushes through your entire body, a stark contrast to the cool metal of the handle. A shiver races down each vertebrae when he drags it over the swell of your cunt and then carefully pressing it against your clit. You gasp and arch into the light touch, your thighs involuntarily jerking as he increases the pressure. It’s cold, rigid and filthy. Who knows where that knife has been—how many lives it’s taken or severed through muscle and skin. 

You don’t find it in you to care all that much.    

He trades his hold on your hip to slide his hand into your shirt, palming and kneading your breast through your bra as you roll and whine against his fingers. The tight circles he's drawing over your clit burns through your abdomen, drags you closer to the precipice that you’re all ready so close to. Fuck—it’s been so long since you’ve indulged in this sort of pleasure.You whine his name as wicked heat licking up your body and spreading to each limb. You arch into him, the handle of his knife slipping through your folds as arousal drips from your cunt.   

Your groan as you tilt your hips into the handle, craving any lick of pleasure he’ll give. Your breath hitches as Din pushes the hilt closer to your throwing entrance, murmuring praise as he sinks the first couple inches inside of you. It’s cold—the knobby feel of the handle not too much thicker than one or two of your fingers combines. You huff and grab at his cowl, the warmth of his hand grazing your pussy each time he rocks his wrist forward. 

“You’re so quiet,” Din goads, pulling the handle free from your aching center. “You usually have plenty to say.” 

You shoot Din a glare, tongue weighed down by arousal to come up with a god retort. You lean your head back against the wall of the Crest and with a chuckle, Din’s hand leaves your shirt to pull you against his chest, the vocoder rumbling against your ear. The blade clatters to the floor and instead brings his calloused fingertips to your cunt. He softly rolls your swollen clit between his forefinger and thumb, delighting in the way you shake. “Be a good little thing and cum for me.”

Shit, you didn’t think it’d be that easy. Your body seizes as white hot heat ripples through your core. Stars, brighter than a dying sun burst behind your eyes, a high pitched cry filtering past your lips as shake and fall apart in his arms, your cunt clenching tight around the thick fingers he slips inside of you. 

You whine as he pulls out, little aftershocks of pleasure wracking through your body in wake of your euphoric high. You groan as he lifts your head and pushes his digits, coated in your juices into your mouth. You lick them clean, tasting the tang of your own arousal and the salt on his skin. “Fuck—that was good.”

You can only imagine that Din rolls his eyes. He takes a step back but before he can escape—

You drop to your knees, a wicked smile curling over your lips. The muscles in his thighs jump as your palms smooth over the outsides of them, then up to his narrow hips, your thumbs lightly massaging the ligaments that protects the fragile joints. Din sucks in a sharp breath when your fingertips hook around his trousers. 

“What are you doing?” Din asks, brushing a thumb over your jaw. 

You pause and glance up at him. You quirk a brow. “Was gonna suck you off, but if you have something else in mind…“ He hisses and tips his head back, flashing the underside of his chin as your hand leaves his hip to cup the heavy bulge tenting in his trousers. 

“Maker—“ He looks off to the side, inhales a choppy breath and then snaps his head back. “You’d…you’d do that?”   

You nod and flash him an encouraging half grin. “Wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to.”

Din mumbles an incoherent string of words under his breath and shifts his weight onto his right leg. His fingers touch your cheek again then tuck a loose hair behind your ear. “But—“

Moons above this man is straight out of some kind of fucking fairytale—arguing about getting his dick sucked—or not. 

Whatever.       

“Din…” His breath hitches at the sound of his name. “I’m asking you kindly to fuck my mouth—it’s cool if you don’t wanna, but my knees already kriffing hurt and—“

He cuts you off with a hasty nod. “Yes—stars, please.”

Fuck yeah.

You smile and slide your eyes past Din’s legs to the cargo crate shoved up against the wall. “You should sit—easier that way.”

He nods and shuffles over, lightly perching himself on the edge and ready to flee at the barest hint of well—anything.

Din’s knee jumps when you place your palm over it. You assume his nerves are from the nature of his occupation—trouble always strikes when you least expect it—and what better time would that be when his pants are around his ankles. “Relax—I’m not gonna bite—maybe.”

He makes a wary sound low in his throat as your fingertips hook into the waistband of his trousers and pull. Din lifts up as you tug the fabric further down his legs, tan skin and solid muscle following in its wake. Fuck…

You swallow, mouth feeling quite dry when your eyes drift between his legs. Din is thick, a rosy brown color, flushed at the tip and curling towards his bellybutton. Beads of liquid shine at the tip, dribbling down the underside and pooling into the dark patch of curls at the base. Din’s fingers hook over the side of the crate, squirming under the weight of your stare. 

Yeah—that’s gonna leave your jaw aching.    

You hear his breath hitch, magnified by the crackle of the vocoder as your lips descend over a silvery scar on the inside of his right knee. You pepper a trail of wet kisses and light nips up his thighs, and by the time you reach the crease of his leg, his hips mindlessly rock with need. 

The second the wet warmth of your tongue brushes over the tip of his cock, his hips jolt off the crate, a load groan echoing through the empty ship. It’s like striking a match to an open line of kerosene—devouring and explosive that’ll leave your delicate skin singed. You’re not nervous playing with fire if this barest scrap of wild heat is anything like burning to a crisp. 

Emboldened by his initial reaction, you wrap your hand around the base, pulsing and achingly hard beneath the velvety flesh. You flatten your tongue over the tip, lapping up the sticky liquid the slip the head of him into your mouth. His hands fly to your hair, tightening into fists as he throws his head back. The beskar scrapes over the durasteel with a sharp squeal, but you don’t find it in you to care about the abrasive sound—eardrums be damned.  

“Fuck—kriffing hell—“ Din snarls, arching his hips to seek more of your warmth. “K-keep going.”  

Your own rekindled arousal blazes hot in your core hearing his stuttered pleas. You pull away to catch your breath, feeling almost guilty for doing so at Din’s low whine of protest. He picks his head up, watching as you languidly jerk him off—entranced with the way your hand rolls over the leaking tip, back down to the base, then up again. You could keep him like this—tease until he cracks under the pressure and begs you for whatever iota of pleasure you want to give but—

You’re not that mean.    

Wetting your lips with your tongue, you part your mouth and slide nearly half of his length into your mouth. Din mutters something garbled, his hips jolting as you hollow your cheeks and bob your head.

Din shifts, arching his back and stuttering out broken whispers of encouragement. Placing your hand over his thigh, you can feel his pulse thrumming beneath your fingertips, wild and alive—something real beneath all that heavy armor and unforgiving helmet. 

“You—you look…” He grunts as you hum around around his cock, swallowing him down further. “Shit—you look so p-perfect like this.”

You groan and squeeze your thighs together, attempting to ignore the gnawing hunger snapping at your insides. 

Rolling your tongue along the underside of his shaft, your fingers slide over what your mouth cant reach—squeezing and gently coaxing him towards his high. He seizes up tight—yet, just when you think you’ve got him skidding off that precarious edge—

His hand fists your hair at the base your neck and yanks you off his cock. He huffs, breathy little pants as he folds into himself like he’s been punched in the gut, his head rolling forward onto his shoulder. Din shivers as he scrambles for control, beginning to loose that slippery foothold he’s so intent on maintaining. His cock, flushed an angry red and still slick with your saliva, twitches and throbs for the release so cruelly wrenched away. 

You let him catch his breath. The fingers tangled in your hair go lax and drop away to rest at his sides. You swallow, his previous skittishness suddenly clicking into place. “Din, are you…?” A virgin. Your question tapers off, unsure if it’ll embarrass and scare him off. 

“No,” he answers—not in a sharp way like you’d hear with a bruised ego—just stating a fact. “Just not—not this. Never had someone—stars—“

Your teeth roll your bottom lip between them, forcing your face to remain neutral despite the stroke of pride blooming singing in your chest. You’re his first—lucky enough to make this the best goddamned oral he’ll ever have. Something he’ll remember for years.  

“Do you want me to stop?” You ask, praying to the Maker he’ll say no. 

He shakes his head, sucking in another calming breath and unfurling himself. His fingers clench into fists then relax, crackling with pent up energy and unsure nerves as to where he should put them. You solve it by threading your fingers through his and placing them around you head. 

Your lips quirk. “You’re allowed to cum in mouth—don’t worry about it.”

His cock twitches as a quiet moan fizzles through the modulator. “You su-sure?”

“Oh, yeah.”

With a smile you bring your mouth back to his cock, tongue swiping up the entire length of him. Din groans as the soft warmth of your mouth slips over the flushed tip of cock, his thick length twitching as you hollow out your cheeks and suck. You bob your head as you slowly work him in further because even like this, hardly halfway into your mouth, you feel your lips stretching a bit too much around him. You groan and part your mouth wider, letting him sink into the soft warmth of your throat.  Din inhales, the sound shaky and unsure as his hips twitch with a few tentative thrusts. 

You take it slow—lifting your mouth nearly all the up to the tip then back down to the base. Din rolls his hips, helping you ease into the gentle pace. Saliva drips down his cock and over your knuckles making an absolute mess you have zero intentions of cleaning up. It’s his ship after all. Din swears as his hips stutter, your hand squeeing around him, trying to push him off that edge he so deserves. Din gasps your name, the pitch of his words knocking up to a lighter, more airy tone, warmer than melted butter. 

“Ca-can’t believe, it—ah—it fits.” He groans with astonished reverence. You preen under his praise. 

You swallow around him and grunt at the abrupt jolt of his hips. There’s no distinctive rhythm you can follow as you let him rock his hips into your mouth—seeking out his pleasure without a coherent thought in sight. Just a cacophony of gasping breaths and rough moans. 

You can feel is cock twitching over you tongue—he’s close—and when your eyes roll up to meet the darkened visor, he’s gone. He shouts your name and knots his fists around your hair as he spirals of that edge. You nearly gag from the force of his release hitting the back of your throat—cock throbbing and jerking in your mouth like he’s been denying himself release for months. His moans, fragile and gasping, filling the quiet space as his hips grind his cock deeper down your throat, his hands threaded into your hair acting as an anchor—the sole tether he has to the waking world. 

Din’s grip relents as the last few catastrophic waves tear through his body. He doesn’t move his hands, just lets them rest over your skull  as his chest heaves for precious air, a harsh crackle through the vocoder. You pull his still twitching cock halfway out, dragging the tip of your tongue below the frenulum while one of your hands circles the base of his length. Maker—he’s still going—

Last little dribbles of his cum spurt onto your tongue and drip over your knuckles still securely wrapped around him. His legs and lower abdomen flex when your hand falls lower to carefully knead at his balls, milking out his pleasure for all its worth. You let his softening cock slip from your mouth when he swears and mumbles your name.      

When you rest your back against the wall, he slips himself back into his trousers and joins you. You take a risk and rest your head over the chilly beskar pauldron. You’d never call this love—the word is much too harsh for this delicate string of seconds. Love means giving pieces of yourself to others like martyrs give their hearts to the sky—or risk fragile skin against the rays of an unforgiving sun. Broken ribs and clenched fists, immensity beyond comprehension—

“You should come with us,” he says with a hesitant mumble. Love is formidable—but you know that somehow, here, pressed against Din’s side, that this is right. In a golden way, a honeyed way, a path that tastes of blood, freedom and blaster smoke that will leave your lungs stained with blackened soot. Cowardice has long made a home inside of your soul, and he’s offering you a chance to shake off the layer of frost clinging to your bones and step into the gentle merciful dawn.  

“Yeah—alright, Din. I will.”

tags (only tagging some moots for now bc i have no clue what’s going on in this fandom anymore dbdndn): @goldafterglow @jango-fettish @djxrxn @blsmjoon @spookoofins @krissology @steeeeeeeviebb @teaofpeach @comphersjost @gummiishark @delusionsxfgrandeur @pettyprocrastination @huliabitch

[surlybobbies]

Professional cuddled dean and touch starved cas. Or the other way around.

im sure canonically speaking that they’re both touch starved but i think dean would be less inclined to admit it. cas is the cuddler here (though spoiler alert: they’re both cuddlers by the end)

Dean doesn’t get it, but far be it from him to judge Cas’s choice of employment. Goodness knows, after all, that “Professional Cuddler” is downright respectable compared to what Dean has considered doing in his 32 years of life. 

Still, doing yoga in the middle of their living room wearing only a pair of thin sweat pants? (”If I have to spend my days in bed, I have to get my exercise somehow, Dean.”) 

Completely uncalled for.

Dean beelines it to the kitchen and fixes his gaze on his goal: the coffee maker.

Cas, occupied with the Warrior 1 pose, picks up on Dean’s discomfort and incorrectly guesses its cause. “Keep looking at me like that and I’m going to think you don’t like me, Dean.” His tone is teasing.

Dean’s concentrating on making his coffee. He’s definitely not thinking about the sight of Cas’s back muscles flexing in his stretch. “Too early for this, dude. Got in late last night.”

“You sound like you need some stress relief,” Cas says. “You know there’s a professional cuddler living with you, right?” His voice is slightly strained this time, and Dean’s afraid to look behind him to see exactly what tempting pose Cas was in. 

Dean takes a few gulps of coffee, savoring the punch-in-your-face bitterness, and stares at the backsplash. The thought of being pressed up against Cas’s body has Dean wanting a cold shower. 

He must take too long responding because Cas’s voice is curious when he says, “Are you actually considering my offer this time?” 

Dean’s turned Cas down multiple times before. He turns around this time and meets Cas’s gaze. Thankfully Cas is sitting back on his legs, his palms on his thighs, watching Dean. He’s still ridiculously hot and still fucking shirtless, but at least he’s not in downward-facing dog too. “Do I get a discount?” Dean asks.

Cas’s eyes are wide and blue, still a littie surprised. “Free of charge,” he says. He sounds a little breathless.

“Fine,” Dean says, lifting his mug to his lips. He’s hiding his heated cheeks. 

Cas is climbing to his feet. It’s a slow show of the muscles in his chest and abdomen, and Dean’s suddenly not sure if he’ll survive what’s coming. “Let me grab a shower,” Cas says, rolling up his yoga mat. “I can meet you in an hour?”

“Your place or mine?” Dean says dryly.

Cas rolls his eyes. “My bedroom. One hour.” He leaves the room, his yoga mat tucked under an arm and Dean, helpless, wrapped around his pinky.

----

Fortunately (or unfortunately) Cas is dressed when Dean walks into Cas’s bedroom. He’s in a soft grey T-shirt and a clean pair of sweat pants. He smells like shampoo, and Dean’s weak in the knees as soon as he shuts the door.

“So how do you usually do this?” Dean asks, his knees at the foot Cas’s bed. The sheets are fresh, the pillows fluffed.

Cas sits down on the left side. “Usually I introduce myself. I ask about comfort zones and boundaries. I remind them that there is no judgement. Then I make a joke if I think they need it.”

“Do I need it?” Dean asks.

Cas is smiling. “You do seem a little tense.”

“That’s what you’re here for, isn’t it?”

Cas pats the mattress. “Climb in, then.”

Dean does. He’s terrified, but he does. He lays his head on his pillow and faces the ceiling.

Cas joins him shortly, but he doesn’t touch Dean yet. He turns on his side to face Dean and asks, “Is there anything you’re uncomfortable with or unwilling to try?”

“Dude, so long as you aren’t grabbing my junk I think we’ll be fine.” Dean doesn’t mean to be so crude but he’s in Cas’s bed, and if he’s going to be thinking about his junk, it’s definitely going to be here.

“Hands above the waist,” Cas says, a faint smile on his lips. “Of course.” He lifts his arm: an offer. “Shall we?” he asks.

If Dean were a poet he’d describe the feeling of Cas’s embrace wrapping around him as the feeling of coming home. But he isn’t a poet, so he just sighs into it and nestles his face into the crook of Cas’s neck. He’s being sappy, he’s being embarrassing, but Cas’s arms are locked tight around Dean’s back like he never wants to let Dean go - so Dean closes his eyes and pretends that’s possible.

“Usually I instruct my clients in better ways to cuddle,” Cas says, “but I think you and I can work with this.”

Dean both hears and feels Cas’s voice against his ear, and if he moved his face just a little forward, he could press a kiss to Cas’s throat, the origin of every loving word Dean has heard over the past two years. “’Better ways to cuddle’?” he asks, a murmur against Cas’s neck. “This not good enough for you?” 

Cas’s shiver is easy to detect. He swallows. “On the contrary,” he says, “I think this is my favorite position now.”

Every sign in the universe is screaming at Dean to make a move, so he does it without sparing a thought for the repercussions: he takes a steadying breath and presses his lips to Cas’s neck. It’s impossible to mistake as anything other than what it is: a kiss, and one that lingers.

Cas sucks in a breath at the contact. His arms tighten around Dean reflexively. Dean can feel the nervous movement of Cas’s throat against his lips. After a moment’s pause, Cas says breathlessly, “I take it back; I can think of one better.”

Dean’s face is aflame, but he lets Cas tilt his chin up with a hand. 

Cas takes a moment to gauge Dean’s reaction. Whatever he sees must be a dead giveaway, because Cas’s eyes soften. His hand skates down Dean’s arm, a comforting, grounding warmth. He leans in and kisses Dean softly.

Dean kisses back. It’s suddenly everything to be in Cas’s hands, to be in Cas’s life, knowing he would only ever touch Dean with love. Dean pours his gratitude into his kiss and swears on all the deities listening that he’ll do everything in his power to make Cas feel as loved as Dean feels in this moment.

He draws back first, but only because it’s too much. He has to hide his embarrassment in Cas’s neck again. “Do that with all your clients?” 

It’s a joke, but Cas’s reply is immediate and sincere: “Just you.” He kisses Dean’s temple and holds him tighter.

“Good,” Dean mumbles. Then he says, more softly than he means to, “We gonna do that again?”

“Only if you want to,” Cas says. 

“Do you want to?” Dean doesn’t know why he needs to hear confirmation, but he holds his breath and clutches Cas’s shirt, silently begging.

“I’ve wanted to for as long as I can remember.” There’s only truth in Cas’s voice.

Dean relaxes into Cas’s hold. He breathes easy and presses closer. “I hope you’re ready to work some overtime, then,” he says.

“It’s hardly work to be cuddling you, Dean.” Cas is smiling; Dean can hear the love in it.

They stay in bed cuddling the rest of the day.

---------

tag list:

@super-powerful-queen-slayyna @lifeisingrey @crisp-tiger-riot @fangirlingtodeath513 @levicastho @dmsilvisart @hello-vague-stuff @bold-sartorial-statement @massivefaceperson-blog @livebloggingmydescentintomadness @shelterfr0mthestorm​ @neo-neo-neo​ @elegybot​

[danniburgh]

Rushingly Bittersweet (Javier Peña x f!reader) part 25

Pairing: Javier Peña x ofc//f!reader with name.

Summary: After the fall of Escobar everything starts happening way too fast for Javier; his raise, his new office, his new team, the Cali cartel’s operation, the sudden arrival of a new agent that was transferred to his team for no apparent reason, the way he was falling in love with her almost unintentionally.

And he couldn’t seem to stop any of that.

Word count: +3.5k

Chapter warnings: smut, (unprotected p in v), a bit of mutual masturbation, a lot of exposition lol, brief mention of drugs

A/N: This chapter is set after season three. // So, last chapter my dudes; im so happy but sad that the main series is ending but so satisfied of everything we’ve done together, i have a fuckton of people to be grateful for but honestly i rather do that in private. I just wanna say that im so happy for the attention this fic has gotten and im so grateful for everyone that has read, liked, commented and reblogged this piece of my heart; i owe you <3. And its not the end of this universe, we’re still gonna see slices of Flor and Javi along the years after this story. I love them and i love you. 

ao3 // fic index // Masterlist // fic playlist

comments and reblogs are eternally appreciated 💓 let me know if you wanna be tagged

←previous //

gif: @pescopadral

A big breath of air left your lungs and the already known sinking of the light that woke you up almost every morning made your brain half conscious; Summer sunrises in Texas made you open your eyes earlier than you wanted, you didn’t know if it had something to do with the position of the house, that the sun entered the room through the beige sheer curtains and nagged at your eyelids as if it was eager for you to see it or the overall fact that you weren’t able to sleep with light.

You whined softly when you opened your eyes and covered them with your forearm as the amount of light that hit your face directly hurt you; you had been living in that town and waking up in that bed for almost a year and you couldn’t seem to get used to the amount of light that entered the rooms almost all day.

You opened your eyes slowly and rubbed the sleep off them, making a mental note to buy another sleeping mask whenever you went downtown, as Pepe had destroyed the one you had.

You stretched on the bed and let your arms drop to the sides, your right arm falling on a warm lump that let out a muffled groan at the hit.

“Mornin’.” you muttered, shifting to your side, putting a hand under the pillow to face him, he was on his belly, hands under his pillow, his eyes were closed but you knew he was already awake. A small smile grew on your face at his half asleep face and the messy case of wavy bed hair he so easily pulled off.

“No.” he mumbled in that hoarse voice of his you only got to hear in the mornings and shoved his face in the pillow, you bit your lip and eyed the bit of the skin of his back you could see before the sheet that covered both your bodies began.

“Javi, I’m hungry.” you whispered, reaching to his naked shoulder and sliding your hand to his nape, he sighed.

“Go to my dad’s,” he mumbled, the pillow muffling his voice, “today he’s making pancakes.” you snorted at him, your fingers scratched at his nape and you shifted to get closer to him.

“I’m not walking to his house to steal his food, Javier,” you chastised him in a low voice and left a small kiss on his shoulder. “and I have a different kind of hunger.” you murmured on the skin of his arm.

Javier lifted his face out of the pillow just enough for you to see his grin, he raised an eyebrow and you nodded once.

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” he said, making you chuckle, he slid off his hand from under the pillow and reached out for you, shifting on the bed to lie on his side, you stirred closer to him and cupped his face to take his lips on a kiss.

“What an excellent way to go.” you teased against his lips, Javier chuckled and licked your bottom lip to nibble at it between his, his hand slid to your naked back and his warm fingers made their way to the bottom of it, the sheet going down with them, leaving your top half uncovered and at his mercy.

Javier’s kisses traveled down to your jaw and your neck, leaving sloppy nibbles at the skin and he smiled at the smell of your body; a mix of your coconut soap, laundry detergent from the bedding and his cologne, that had a habit of clinging to you since the first day you slept next to him on your house.

One of your hands wrapped around his neck and you brought him closer to you, your breasts brushing the skin of his chest and you shivered when your nipples hardened because of the contact, your other hand sneaked from his shoulder to his chest, all the way down his tummy and then to his half-hardened cock; Javier shivered slightly when you took him in your hand and started giving him lazy strokes to get him ready for you.

Javier sighed and the warm air that left his mouth collided against the wet skin of your neck and a wave of arousal came out of your core and slid slowly to your naked thighs; he moved his hand from your back to your thigh and down to your mound, brushing his fingertips softly on your covered clit until you folded one leg and opened up for him, his fingers found your slick escaping out of you and he eased his index and middle finger inside you, making you gasp.

“You’re always so wet.” he whispered against your skin and his tongue tasted the essence of your flesh as his fingers curled inside you, hitting several times that spongy part of you that made your legs tremble, your hand gripped his cock at the sudden shock of his pressure inside you and the hand that was keeping him close to you moved to his shoulder, and you pushed him to lie down on his back, his fingers sliding out of you and the hand on his cock never leaving him; you loved to feel him grow in your hand, only for you.

The sheet that covered you when you were sleeping was slowly kicked down the bed as you rouse from your side of the bed and straddled him, one knee on each side of his hips; his hands clasped immediately with yours, one dry and one wet with your arousal and you leaned down to cup his face with both hands and take his lips again with your own, his thumbs were making small circles around the skin of your hips and he moaned softly when you bit his lower lip.

“Get inside.” you whispered against his mouth and one of his hands left your body to grip his length, you lifted your hips and he played the tip of his cock on your wet slit, making you shiver when he made it press on your already swollen clit and found his way into you.

You sat on him slowly and you both sighed in relief once he was fully inside you; you slid your hands from his face to his chest and circled your hips slowly, Javier brought his hand to your jaw and pulled you to him, kissing you again and trying to let you know with his lips how much he needed you.

His hand helped you move on top of him as you started a tantalizing rhythm that was making you both gasp on each other's mouth, you smelled his morning breath and let out a soft chuckle at yourself; you didn’t mind it one bit.

“What?” he whispered when he heard you, moving his hand to your hips to help you circle faster.

“I like you very much.” you replied, he smirked in response and leaned up to give you a soft kiss; you slid your hands to his sides and under him, wrapping them around and gripping his shoulders to gain leverage and start moving on top of him, Javier moaned when your started bouncing your hips on him making his cock slide in and out almost entirely and his tip was already grazing at that soft spot inside you that made you whine his name.

“Fuck, baby.” Javier gasped when you hid your face inside his neck, moaning his name, he tightened the grip on your hips and folded his legs, planting his feet on the bed and meeting your movements half way, you gasped at the already known brushing of his cock with your g-spot and smiled when he made you stop your bouncing to pound into you.

“Fu–‌fuck, Javi jus–‌just like that.” you whispered in his ear and he let out a soft grunt when you clenched your walls around him, almost strangling him inside. Javier slid one hand to your upper back and pressed you tighter on his body, his lips and mustache brushing the skin of your shoulder as he and his thrust and the graze of his pubic hair on your clit brought you to pleasure.

You whined his name a couple more times as his warm breath on your skin along with his cock inside you helped build that knot in your lower belly; he started panting and you knew he was close to burst inside of you; so you moved your hand slowly towards the union of your bodies and started circling your clit at the rhythm of his thrusts; you started panting as well at the same time as him and you felt your orgasm come softly, your toes curled and your breath hitched as the knot inside your belly released at once and Javier drove into you a few more times, he moaned when you shoved your slick covered fingers on his mouth, and he sucked, the taste of you and him mixed made him cum and fill your pussy with that warmness of his you really loved feeling spread in and escape out.

“Oh, god,” you panted out, he let out a spent chuckle and hummed, agreeing with you, you tilted your head to his shoulder and kissed the warm skin “I love you.”

Your low voice against his skin made him smile and his hands started drawing shapeless patterns on the skin of your back and hips, he moved his face to your cheek and licked a thin stripe of sweat that ran from your ear to your jaw.

“I love you more.” he muttered.

“I wanna pee.” you said after a few seconds of panting and recovering from your own orgasms, Javier chuckled and disentangled his arms and legs from you.

“Now I’m hungry.” he let out after another spent sigh, making you laugh.

After a cold, shared shower and Javier trying to get inside you again but failing because of his stomach growling in need of food, a packed breakfast courtesy of your non-husband insisting on going to his dad’s and eat the pancakes he made and your usual hour of catching up with the news, Javier brought the truck to the entrance of the house and between the both of you packed the bed with a small cooler and some blankets.

Pepe was walking next to you, and Javier huffed at the dog when he licked your hand after you had offered him an ice cube from the cooler..

“Y’know…” you let out, patting the black dog’s head with your wet, icy hand, “the only thing I miss about Colombia is the weather.” Javier snorted.

“Yeah,” he replied, shoving Pepe to the side softly to close the truck’s bed’s lid “I had forgotten how hot Texas can be.”

“Where are you two chamacos going?” Chucho’s voice came from behind and both of you turned around at the same time, seeing him on his horse, with the hat you gifted him for Christmas perched on his head, Chucho smiled at the mirrored gesture you two made and you smiled at him with a hand on your forehead to cover your eyes from the sun.

“For a ride, pop.” Javier replied, putting his tinted sunglasses on. Chucho hummed in affirmation.

“Check the paddock’s fence while you’re there.” he let out and you smirked at him.

He knew exactly where you were going; he knew both of you like the palm of his hand, surprisingly to you he had learned to read you so well in so little time and while you appreciated it, it was also somewhat exasperating, but you loved him as if he were your own father already, so there was nothing you wanted to do to stop him.

Chucho had modified a saying after you and Javier’s escapades to the piece of land that adjoined with the Río Bravo, saying that it fit you two best; you can take the agents out of the DEA, but you can’t take the DEA out of the agents.

“¿Van a venir a comer?” (are you coming for lunch?) he asked, whistling at Pepe so the dog turned to him.

“Yeah, pero usted no haga nada,” (you don’t do anything) you replied, eyeing Javier over the corner of your eyes “Javi’s cooking.” you let out, making the old man chuckle.

“So we’re not eating.” he let out and you shared a laugh, Javier frowned and took off his sunglasses.

“No hablen de mí como si no estuviera,” (don’t talk about me like I’m not here) he said in a growl “stop ganging up on me.” you let out a loud laugh when he turned around to walk to the driver’s door and hop in the truck and you raised your eyebrows at Chucho.

“Don’t be late, Florecita,” he said, guiding the horse to the side “vente Pepe.” he called out to the dog and he followed the horse as Chucho led it to the opposite side of the land, to the stockyard.

You turned around as well, Javier had opened the door for you from the inside and you hoped in, he turned on the ignition as you closed the door and started driving to the farthest part of the ranch; the ride to the south part was quiet and quick, Javier didn’t say much and the comfortable silence filled the cabin until he parked the truck in the middle of the paddock.

“Oh, I lied just now.” you said while opening the door and getting out of the truck.

“What?” Javier frowned a bit because of the sun and you walked parallelly to him towards the back of the truck.

“There’s another thing I miss about Colombia.” you let out as he walked to the edge’s fence and tugged at two of the posts before walking back towards you.

“What’s that?” he asked, taking off his sunglasses and hanging them from his shirt.

“Real arepas.” you let out, Javier chuckled and reached for you, his hand found its spot on your waist and he pulled you to him, leaving a kiss on your cheekbone.

“I finished another chapter last night.” he whispered against your skin before stepping away and pulling down the truck’s bed’s door. 

You raised your eyebrows at him, he was writing a lot for the book you and Connie had suggested him and Steve should write, just to help process everything they lived while in Colombia.

“Is that why you came to bed so late?” you asked, reaching for one of the blankets you had packed and unfolding it to spread it on the open door, Javier hummed in affirmation.

“Want you to read it before I send it to Steve.” he said, grabbing your hips and helping you sit on the truck, stepping closer while you opened your legs for him to stand between them and wrap his hands around your waist.

“Why?” you teased, wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing him even closer, he smirked.

“Just because.” he replied and shrugged softly, making you huff a silent laugh at him as you leaned towards his face and took his lips in yours; Javier hummed at the soft, dry contact of your lips with his and fisted the fabric of your shirt. You knew how hard it was being for him to remember all the things that happened down there, so sometimes he would end up with huge chunks of information missing that then he’d have to fix, so he was using you as his proofreader and you were more than happy to help, learning in depth things he didn’t dare to say out loud.

He opened his mouth after you brushed his lower lip with your tongue and you invaded him, tasting the minty flavor of the toothpaste.

He broke the kiss and you moved one of your hands to scratch at the short hair on his nape, Javier sighed softly and you took in his features; he looked like the man you had fallen in love, his deep, brown, expressive eyes were the same, his lips were too, the aquiline nose that you loved to kiss hadn't changed but you knew he was a slightly different man than the one you had met almost two years before in a foreign country.

That man was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders; traumatized and tired, his own spirit was hanging from a thin thread that was so tense it threatened with snapping at the smallest blow of the wind. But the man standing in front of you wasn’t that man, you could see some glimpses of his old self behind his eyes or when the day had been long; after all, years of being that Javier Peña had clung to him and became a custom; but he was fading into his own self, you were slowly meeting the man he was and the man he wanted to be, and you couldn’t be more in love with him.

Your hands brushed his brown waves and you smiled at him.

“You’re really pretty.” you muttered to him, Javier huffed and gazed at you.

“Am I?” he teased, you nodded twice.

“Very,” he caught when you whispered, “and handsome, too,” he let himself smile at your compliment, “and sometimes you’re funny.” you added and he huffed a laugh before closing the short distance between your faces.

The fact that he could have you so close to him, available to touch and kiss and hug and wrap his arms around made Javier feel like he couldn’t ask for anything else; he still didn’t think he deserved it, but he had learned to be selfish and to appreciate what he had in you and with you. Even if the feelings of what happened with you still hid inside his body when he saw you in your hardest days, even if his brain still whispered to him you would do the same if the opportunity came; he knew you better. 

He had seen you stripe yourself naked to him and he had helped you rebuild yourself slowly.

He still was. As were you with him.

Javier knew who he was with and knew your strengths and your weaknesses, he had learned slowly to read you as you read him and he understood that your past, as hard as it was, was the thing that led you to him.

He would run through the same fire again if that meant he would have the chance to wake up next to you for as long as you two wanted. And he wanted to do it for the rest of his life.

You frowned when he broke the kiss.

“Are these gray hairs? you said in a feigned gasp, he rolled his eyes and smirked at you.

“Well, I’m old.” he obviated, stepping away from you and reaching for the cooler, dragging it closer.

“I don’t think you’re that old.” you said, he let out a chuckle as he opened the cooler and took out two beers, handing one to you.

“You don’t say the same when I ask you to rub my back after three hours sitting on the desk.” he teased, sitting next to you, you laughed and scooted closer to him, leaning on his shoulder and opening the can of beer.

“I’m definitely buying you that lumbar pillow.” you said, he let out a wheeze and turned his head to leave a kiss on the crown of your head, he opened his beer and you sipped at yours, seeing a small boat make its way through the water. You grinned and sat straight.

“This is the same one from last week,” you muttered, he hummed in affirmation “I think it’s the first one that has the same rower.”

“Maybe they’re running out.” Javier said, drinking from his beer.

“Wonder when migration is gonna start patrolling around here.” you leaned back onto his shoulder.

“Do you think old man Peña’s gonna let them enter?” he rhetored, and you looked at him.

“You mean you or your dad?” you teased, Javier grunted playfully, “he asked me when I’m giving him a grandkid again.” you said, returning your eyes to the small boat that made its way slowly through the river, not wanting to think about kids or the lack of them.

“Ese hombre no entiende.” (that man doesn’t understand) Javier let out softly, huffing at his father’s wishes.

“Maybe we can call Steve and Connie,” you suggested, brushing the odd feeling off your mind that talking about you having kids always made you feel “they can bring the girls down and maybe ease your dad’s baby fever.” Javier snorted.

“Maybe,” he muttered, downing the rest of his beer and pointing at the river with the hand that held the empty can “there goes another one.”

“That one’s new,” you said, drinking from your can and then handing it to him, “baby.” you called him.

“Mhm.” he took the beer from your hand.

“Do you think we’re still gonna be sitting here watching drugs being smuggled into the country when we’re gray and wrinkled as raisins?” you asked him, Javier chuckled at the question.

“Yeah,” he shifted to wrap his arm around your shoulders “why?”

“I don’t know,” you muttered “maybe we need to build a porch or a gazebo around here. I can’t push you into the paddock if you’re in a wheelchair.” you teased, and Javier let out a soft cackle.

“C’mon, amor, don’t be an ass.”

←previous //

let me know if you wanna be removed :)

pedrito's perma list: @northernpunk​ @pascalesque​ @sleep-tight1​ @cheekygeek05​ @bii-aan-ckaa​ @letaliabane​ @starlightmornings​ @mouthymandalorianalso​ @supernaturalgirl​ @metalarmsandmanbuns​ @purplepascal042​ @asta-lily​ @greeneyedblondie44​ @missswriter​ @juletheghoul​ @pedro-pastel​ @agirllovespancakes​ @maharani-radha​

Javi's babies: @pulplorrd​

RushBit tag list: @shestillwrites1​ @absurdthirst​ @alliterative-albatross​ @thoughtfulpandawasteland​ @wifeofdindjarin @lank-sextburg @helloannbananalove​ @diogodxlot​ @pascalslittlebrat​ @sarahjkl82-blog​ @pedritobalmando​ @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan​ @mamacitapascal​ @dobbyjen​ @callsigncatfish​ @feminist-violinist​ @jasmincita​ @pascalove​ @eury-dice3​ @gingaahhhh @athalien​ @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics​