#thats my grab thread nail for one

[excaive]

reminded how my longest nail broke clean off last week without me noticing immediately because I was too busy making a huge snowball outside

here's snowball(s), the one on the right is the nail breaking culprit

[unspokenspeakeasy]

Brother loves knowing he was the first one inside you, that no matter who you tell or what you actually think, your first time was with me and no one else. I claimed you for myself and it will always be that way. You’ll keep waking up covered in my sweat and cum and you’ll never get to say no. Big brother knows best.

I don't even remember it... It's always been like this hasn't it? Ever since we moved rooms. Though its not like I don't remember the first time. How could I forget? Pretending I was asleep. When we had our own rooms. It was so warm.. Too big... It hurt a lot big brother. Don't you know? You didn't seem to care if I woke up that first time... At least not after you had gotten it all the way in. Then you grabbed me... Pulling me close to you. Fucking me like it was your last day on earth. I tried so hard not to show you I was awake... Wrapping so so tight around your cock. I could barely walk after yknow. That next day at school was so painful. But I couldn't stop thinking about it. I couldn't stop thinking about your cock. Nothing would suffice. Not my fingers, None of the toys I had... Nothing worked. Its enough to drive someone mad yknow... And now you're so gentle... Or maybe I've gotten used to it. Now I can sleep through it. And perhaps thats worse. Knowing how many times you've made me cum. Not that you really care. Not that it matters. But to me it's maddening that I've never been awake to feel your cock in me again. It's maddening.

But we all have roles. We all have things we keep secret. And we all have to hide things right? You'll never know how much I hate that you never wake me up. We can never know that the other knows. Because then the illusion is broken. Then it becomes all too real for you to handle right big brother? You'll start feeling bad about it right? Don't.

You don't have to feel bad about fucking me til you pass out.

It's only natural. It's only common sense to want to.

Keep doing it. Keep going.

Or is it that if you knew I knew... It'd only make you wanna do It more? Perhaps some semblance of restraint. Restraint that hangs on by a thread. Leaving so so much evidence of what you've done everywhere. I would have noticed right? Waking up all sweaty.

I know you watch me masturbate, or at least try, getting upset every time I can't bring myself to cum because nothing suffices. The way you grab me, pinning me against you, your nails dug into my neck, your leg wrapped around me so it never slips out. Making sure you fill me up completely before you cover me in cum. Stuffing it down my throat, holding my mouth open as you mercilessly use my mouth. You don't really care if I find out. It's only a matter of time before I snap and beg you to fuck me while conscious right big brother? Knowing how pathetic and desperate I am for you. I'm so pathetic arent I? Hiding like this behind the veil of slumber.

Remember that time...no I'm sure you don't. Nobody that drunk could remember. You always wonder how those cracks in my screen got there. You threw it across the room, kissed me again and again and again and again... Your warmth penetrating every inch of my body. It's not use wearing anything around you is it? You stretched out my favorite shirt groping me.

God you're a mess.

Keep making a mess out of me big brother. Im addicted.

[bythewillows]

HOLY SHIT THE CACTUS/CARETAKER POST WAS YOU?????? OMG THATS ONE OF MY FAVORITE ANALYSES ON HERE YOURE SO BIG BRAINED!!! I REMEMBER REREADING IT A LOT WHEN I FIRST GOT INTO BLLK TUMBLR WOAHHH

And yea I agree, very much agree w everything, you rlly *clenches fists, shakes arms, bangs head* GET IT BRO!!! There's diff flavors of partnerships in blue lock and unfortunately reonagi just had to be the most codependent one (on field) among all of them bc of their circumstances but hopefully now they'll work on their relationship n go into bachisagi territory or even kainess (someone else on here said that kainess was like a more grown version of reonagi? Like ness is good w being kaiser's number 2 but can score his own goals, he just likes supporting kaiser more—ofc, Nagi will prob show his affection differently to grabbing Reo's hair any chance he gets haha) n wake up everyone who calls them toxic rn

We should rlly make another discussion thread abt Reo and his self image worth when it comes to Nagi (bc this post was originally abt them being cute on the new spinoff chapter lmao how'd we get here 😭 the reonagi/reo stan protectiveness effect ig) bc I think that's probably the main reason other than Nagi's overall communication issues that leads people to assuming their relationship is toxic, like the "I'll devote my new playstyle to help Nagi score goals!!! I'll be Nagi's arms and legs!!" panel rlly put the nail in the coffin for even me personally when I reread their reconciliation scene bc of how ass it felt that Reo took all his own growth n just,,,,,gave it all to Nagi for him to use? Making Reo into a commodity? It just leaves a bad taste in my mouth and is the biggest contributor in the "reo's a simp going back to his toxic ex" mentality bc in a way, they're right that Reo is giving up his own individuality to an extent for Nagi and that's not good for them in the long run :(((

OH I ALSO GOT INTO BLLK A MONTH AGO YOOO (can't believe I started for Bachira but hyperfixated on the sad purple boi instead) and was equally starved for content ;;; so I went into the trenches,,,,and I saw a post on Reddit abt how Reo's ego isn't actually to make Nagi the best striker, it's to make anyone the best striker n prove he can be someone who makes people the best + score the best goals (like Sae), but Nagi's the only person he feels emotionally connected to so he devotes himself entirely to him. It was a p interesting theory and I don't remember them bashing either Nagi or Reo, I think the title was "Reo's ego is a lie" or smth if you wanna check it out ^^

I have no idea how to end discussion threads bc there's still so much left to say on these guys but p sure we've strayed far far from crying over Nagi calling Reo his partner (in everything they do) so once again, TYSM FOR THE RANTS THEYRE SO INTERESTING TO READ!!!! It's rlly nice to find someone who shares the same interests and can elaborate on shared opinions I can't put into words hhhhhh you explained everything so well!!!!! See you next week when the next bllk chapter comes out and we find out the fate of our kids :,,)))

Yk usually, stalking reonagi/nagireo twt is bad for my mental health bc everyone either hates Nagi or wants them to break up (again)

BUT NOT TODAY OMGGGG EPISODE NAGI CHAPTER 8 RAWS RELEASED N I ONLY FOUND OUT BC OF THE TWT TRANSLATORS AND!!!! GUYS!!!!!!

Spoilers for Episode: Nagi chapter 8!!!

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BAROU MADE REO FALL AND NAGI CAUGHT HIM!!!!! WITH ONE ARM!!!!!!!!

THE TRANSLATION IS NAGI SAYING "I'm not his slave, I'm reo's partner" !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

SCREAMING CRYING PUNCHING AIR THIS IS EVERYTHING I NEEDED THANK YOU MANGAKA TY TWT USER @/_mangaotaku 😭😭😭😭

[hyatt-death]

so like i feel better than i have but im still pretty sick and like i really need to rest but i keep cleaning instead when i really really need to just lay down and i finally like turned all the lights off except my fish tank my wax melt and my tv and now im just chillin in the dark playing on my computer so like that counts as rest right

[ruvatia]

Sorry if this is a bit much with everything going on, but could I request a scenario where the Paladins + Matt & Lotor have a black s/o and they’re scared abt everything that’s happening in their country and are sad that racial injustice is happening? I’ve been rlly worried the past few days, but if this is smth too uncomfy I understand ;w; Thank you 💖💖💖

This got really long, I apologize but I turned it into half-headcanons with just the main paladins-- i apologize for not doing all the characters you’ve mentioned, but I don’t think they would fit all in a single post anyways www

On another note I hope you and every other reader take good care of their mental health; it’s important to be aware of what’s going on but it’s also important to be in the right mindspace to be able to tackle everything that’s being shared. It’s pain that’s been boiling for a very long time and there is absolutely no shame in taking some downtime to recover before heading back into current issues.

SHIRO:

If you were saddened, Shiro would suggest that maybe you switch to something else; if there was something that he knows will distract you and temporarily have you be a little more at ease, he’d do that!

But also maybe add a little twist-- extra soft blankets (fresh out of the oven! Screw the bills you’re worth it), extra cheese on your favorite dish, whatever it is that can make your smile a little wider, bigger or brighter just let him know!

Would give you hugs if you asked, but usually Shiro pets your head and brushes your cheek for comfort

He also does this when he wants to ask something of you, but thats another story

Why the TV was still on was a mystery to you, you’d stopped listening a long time ago. Your partner besides you noticed, and you felt the hand around your shoulder tighten his grip a little, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“Hey, maybe we should watch something else?” he asked softly, brushing your cheek with his hand. “I can’t really listen to this anymore.”

“Yeah… Sure.” you replied, though it felt like an automated response more than your actual opinion.

“Okay, I’ll switch to that weird show Pidge recorded the other day, we agreed to watch it, right?” he replied, quickly grabbing the remote to change the program.

The first episode started playing, but the moment that it did, you felt cold as Shiro left your side.

“Where are you going?” you asked, your interlaced fingers the only thing keeping him close.

“Ah, I thought I’d make us something. We both kinda skipped dinner….”

He’d thought about putting something together that you’d like, maybe order dessert to surprise you but seeing the look on your face, leaving your side was the hardest thing to do right now.

So he gave in, and your both fell asleep until the doorbell rang with your delivery.

KEITH:

I have this headcanon that Keith isn’t very good with physical touch but after the end of voltron and after enough time of humanitarian relief, he learns how important it is for someone that’s in a specific state of mind

So the best he has to offer when his words fail is physical touch

Over your time together he’s learned what you need depending on your mood, and it helped him out lots when you were more vocal about it-- if anything he liked it when you asked for things that he could easily deliver, he’d do anything to see you smile

A hand came over your phone screen, Keith’s fingers lacing into yours and making you drop the device onto the crevices of the sofa.

“Why did you--”

“You’ve been staring at that thing for the past hour, biting at your nails.” he said in a worried tone. “That’s enough. We’re going to bed.”

“But it’s just--”

“We’re going to bed.” he repeated in a harsher tone, lifting you off your seat.

Keith sat down onto the bed first, pulling you into him. You both fell onto the bed, Keith quickly pulling the covers over your shoulders before his arms came around you.

“My alarm is my phone.”

“That’s nice, but we both know we have nothing to do tomorrow.” he replied right away, making you chuckle.

“Keith…” you called, your hands sneaking up to his face.

You brushed away some of his hair from his face as he gave you a complicated expression, unable to reflect the small smile you wore. He knew things were shit outside, that being apart from your family and other loved ones was a toll on both you and that lately negative thoughts have plagued you more often than not but Keith, despite his good intention was still somewhat of an awkward man.

“Thank you.”

He kissed you in reply and you both left it at that, glad that he had someone like you to meet him halfway.

LANCE:

Lots of hugs the moment he feels something is off with you

Will be a brat™ for the sole purpose of distracting you, bET

I feel like post-series Lance tries his best to be as observant as Allura and tries to understand others better-- but it didn't take a genius or incredible empath to know why your eyes looked like they were about to overflow at the sight of the news.

I’d like to think that Lance, with a big connected family is one of the paladins that very easily gets what you’re going through, wouldn’t be surprised he’s been called one or two things in his past either

That being said it doesn’t mean that he completely understands your personalized struggles with racial injustices that you encounter everyday; as another minority himself + coming from a culture and upbringing that might be different than yours, its a very different experience.

Memories flooded as the news anchor spoke about “lootings” and as you scrolled down your feed to see feeble attempts at sympathy from local peacekeepers. You sigh and retweet another thread, only to find something equally as shocking right after. You stopped commenting in quote retweets a while ago, you felt like you were constantly repeating that none of this was okay and that a reform was desperately needed. Rather than typing out your thoughts you typed out your name, address and email over and over again, signing one petition after the other.

Hearing sigh after sigh, Lance eventually put an arm around your shoulder. He startled you, but his soft voice made both your shoulders and your guard lower.

“Hey, do you want to make a midnight snack with me? I’m getting kinda hungry.”

“What about that new rule we were talking about? Not eating 4 hours before we went to bed?”

“Every diet has one or two cheat days, don’t they?” he replied, kissing one of your eyelids. “Come on, I’m sure your neck is sore from being like that for so long.”

In the end you both made some soul-food until a food-coma knocked you out until tomorrow. In the morning, you realized that Lance must’ve woken up in the middle of the night because you remember cuddling on the couch, and yet you’re waking up on the bed. Of course, still in his arms.

HUNK:

Having a sensible heart, I feel like both you and hunk would struggle a little about maintaining a healthy distance with current events.

Though overtime he would understand that keeping in touch with everything that’s going on is important, but not at the sake of burning out

His best bet, to him, to pull you out of a such a dark space is with comfort food

“Ok ppl feel like they want to eat a horse but they actually cant when they’re in that mind space Hunk, let’s make something sweet and small; something direct and straight to the point! Let’s add smiley faces on it!”

Your turned down the volume from the news, let your head fall backwards and brought up your forearm over your closed eyes. It felt warm and made it you realize that you had probably been staring very intensely at the screen as a wave of comfort hit your eyes the moment they were drowned in darkness. Letting out a deep breath, you stilled and let yourself bask in your thoughts until a familiar voice brought you back.

“Maybe a little bit more sugar? No, then it would be disbalanced. The base is already so sweet-- Ah, I have to take the cupcakes out or else they might get burned!”

You felt a smile grow on your lips, making you ignore the horrid news being broadcasted to turn to your partner that as usual, seemed to juggle ten thousand things to create a whole meal.

“What’s going on over here?” you asked, leaning over the counter to note that one of your favorite dishes was made and machines that were mostly used for baking had been brought out.

“Oh you know, just a little pick me up for my most favorite person ever.” he shrugged, but a smile soon came to his face. His hands were full but he leaned over, his lips meeting your cheek. “Things outside are a little dark, so I thought we could both use a little something nice.”

He turned on the machine after dropping a drop of dye to make it your favorite color and within a few minutes the icing was finished. Hunk scooped up a small amount on his finger and brought it to his lips and nod.

“Wanna taste?” he asked you, his finger dipping into the icing.

A mischievous grin spread on your features as you took his wrist and let his finger fall on your tongue, the sweetness quickly spreading through your mouth. The yellow paladin shivered as you let his digit hang in your mouth for longer than necessary, letting out a satisfied hum when you returned it to him.

“Tastes perfect.”

PIDGE:

She knew what could be fixed, she knew how to fix it but this meant she was also aware of how long such a transition would take

I think Pidge would be similar to Shiro: whatever she remembers that helps you be at ease, she would defect to that in hopes to maybe distract you for a while.

I don’t think Pidge is a very touchy person either, so if she reaches out to you _physically_ in worry, it’s a very clear sign she’s serious/anxious

I feel like she would reach out in other ways and then if she knew you were in a specific state of mind where touch was not useful, or if she just also wanted to try things out lol

As you watched the twisted information that was being shared on screen, another message caught your attention. Rather than a small red icon in the corner, a small window appeared in the middle of your computer screen.

<I found a way to modify notifications sent to another device.>

The video had stopped, every horrible gif about police brutality was paused and there was nothing else but the small window pidge had thrown onto your screen. You chuckled, and felt a pressure behind your working chair.

Another message popped up.

<You’ve been catching up with twitter for the past two hours. Surely you’re done now?>

A soft laugh came from you, making Pidge release a breath she didn’t know she was holding. You typed out an answer:

<Is it possible to be completely caught up with twitter? I follow like 500 accounts.>

<Okay, but half of them are just cat videos and the other half are just retweets of said videos.>

<Oh here I was thinking that this was an intervention to brighten my mood. We’re dragging each other’s follows now?>

<Oh please like you don’t want to be dragged, with that kind of follow list.>

<I can’t believe you’ve done this.>

You both laughed, before Pidge turned around and tapped your shoulder. She let her hand float in the air, yours coming to join it as a soon as your turned her way.

“Wanna take a nap?” she asked, letting her head fall onto your shoulder. “I had Chip make some hot chocolate, Hunk style.”

You squeezed her hand, putting your computer on sleep mode.

“Yeah, that sounds nice.”

[noritoshiikamo]

last request for your abused ask box: HOW WOULD CHOSO REACT IF YOU BITE HIM DURING THE SMINGLE PRINGLE

okay okay listen, i have two possible answers for this.

it’s either choso is going to be so shocked and disgusted and be like hand to chest like how dare you bite me which kennel did you escaped from???, pushed you away and exit the bedroom dramatically and he will sulk and be like thats not what porn showed me OR he will be like oH ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) we biting BITING and it’s just choso going feral all over your neck and shoulder and thighs and if u like got some blood on ur lips and u just lick it to like show him that youre not squeamish, he would just activate his flowing red scale power and just make u turn into a huge as clit aka you’ll be extra sensitive to his touch

since it’s suki, we gotta go with the later. just a tiny little baby short drabble hehe

biting

(18+ thread lightly, sexual content ahead, biting, tiny blood swallowing warning)

he wasn’t shocked when he felt her fangs sunken into the crook where his neck and shoulder met. she has always been so fond of the spot whether to nuzzle her face when she hugged or to suck on when he’s balls deep in her.   “human, what’d taken over you today?”  his deep voice whispered down so close to her ear; she could feel all the hair on her back raising. his finger hooked under her chin tilted her up so he could take a look at his human. it took all her might to break his skin and to see her lips stained with his blood made him both curious and slightly turned on. without breaking eye contact, her tongue darted out to lick whatever that was left. the taste of iron spread through her buds. he smirked.  he bent down to kiss her and by the time he pulled away, she felt different. “look at you, wearing my mark,” he cooed, pleased to see two vertical marks over each of her eyes.  every part of her body touched by the cursed human left trails of warmth. she was on fire. with her aches worsened, she felt like she was a bitch in heat. it was fun to see her discarding articles of clothes so quickly, before her hand quickly found the end of his sash. there was no foreplay, no teasing, choso didn’t even get to remove his yukata; he watched as she spit on his dick and quickly aligned his tip to her entrance.  “easy there, sweetheart,” he warned as she sunk herself down.  her head was thrown back, her nails gripped his shoulder leaving crescent marks all over as she struggled to keep herself from yelling. he left his first bite to reflect on his own; right at the crook of her neck.   “c-choso,” she whined, taking one of her hardened nubs between her fingers. his bite wasn’t enough to draw blood like she did, but it was enough for a bruise to form. a different kind of hickey.  since she has become twice as sensitive as before, it didn’t take long for her to buckle, yelling oh god, im cumming multiple time as she creamed all over his length. choso wondered how many orgasms it would take for overstimulation to finally hit her. his hands gripped on her waist, raising her faster than before. the feeling of being used like his personal sex toy is so enjoyable. “fuck, fuck, fuck,” she gasped, “please use me, please, please!” she begged, slobbering over his lips. his palm landed on her fleshy ass with a loud smack. “look at me,” he ordered her as another orgasm rippled through her body. her eyes were red and watery, so full of lust. he grabbed her face, steadying her. “look. at. me,” he ordered, with the tone clearly reminding her that he won’t say it again. when their eyes met, he could see her face flushed even more and her lips were trembling. “you’re so good,” he praised, caressing her sweat soaking face. “i want to make you feel good too,” she cried out, rocking her hips forward, “i want you to fill me up.” his hands ran up and down her back, his lips scattering all over her chest. the idea of her walking around carrying his marks all over her body, peaking through her collar, sleeves or skirt bubbled a sense of pride in his chest. and that just fueled him even more.

tagging @unabashednightmarepizza , @sassyeahhhh, @sukirichi lemme kno if u wanna be in my taglist or sumn

[fruit-punk-art]

hello! your art is really cool and inspiring — thank you so much for what you do! do you have any resources for people who are interested in weaving but don’t know where to start?

hi! thats so kind of you thank you so much for appreciating my work the way you do! 💖

weaving can be quite time consuming and labor intensive but please don't let that stop you from trying it out! in my opinion it's one of the most satisfying and comforting textiles practices i've ever tried and why i've made it the center of my work.

for the beginner weaver i would suggest making a frame loom to work on while you get the feel for it. a frame loom can be made most traditionally from wood pieces and nails/screws which is how i made my first one in school. however they can be as simple as some layered pieces of cardboard just keep in mind the yarn you'll be stringing across to make the warp (vertical threads) will need to be put on with some tension so the sturdier the better.

this page from The Weaving Loom shows a great way to make a frame loom tool free, perfect for bring with you somewhere or using in small spaces.

now the weaving itself is pretty straight forward once you do your math and get all set up. another option is to try potholder weaving for something a little more relaxed that will still get you into the rhythm of weaving. they sell complete kits for these on yarn.com and at craft stores too.

this pdf from Andrea Rothwell shows more on how to make a frame loom, how to set up, as well as getting started with basic weaving pattern and yarn textures. this is only the first few pages from the book so if this resource interests you definitely look into grabbing the whole copy where you can.

another great starting guide is this book on yarn.com which in addition to resource books, this is where i've gotten a fair amount of weaving tools and materials over the last few years.

this youtube video by Fibers and Design Weaving (a great channel btw) gives an amazing overview of starting a weaving and also goes over and defines some important weaving terms that a lot of the above links mention

as far as weft (horizontal threads) just have fun with it! i'm sure you can see from my work that yarn isn't the only thing that you can put in a weaving but test some things out and see what you like. chunky yarn, really thin thread, fishing line, sticks, pasta, anything you like it!

i know this is a lot and it's long but hopefully this helps out! i'm always more than happy to answer any questions about my work or weaving in general so don't hesitate to reach out! everybody go weave and make some funky little creations. weaver fever is real trust me once you start you'll love it 💕

[dw-writes]

Kinktober 2020 - Shower/Bath - Éomer x Fem!Reader

WHY did this give me so much trouble??? because I couldn’t remember Eomer’s personality, that’s fucking why. I hope i did him justice? And I hope that you guys appreciate this!! This is a little longer than some of the other kinktobers but thats okay eue*

PLEASE remember to block the tags KINKTOBER 2020, SMUT, and LEMON if you do NOT wish to see these kinds of posts on your dash!! Thank you!

The halls of Meduseld were cool for the winter months, bringing in a chill that you had yet to shake since the longer nights had set in. Even with your heavy robes, the cold night sunk into your bones. You slipped from your quiet room, wrapping your robe around you tight, and headed down the hall, towards the bath that sat near the back of the Great Hall. Your candle hardly cast a shadow, and the closer you got to your destination, the lighter the halls became. You slowed before the door, finding it cracked open, and a small cloud of steam rolling from around its wood. You shifted in front of the door to peer through the crack to find a very familiar man sinking into the water with a groan.

You shifted back as warmth flooded your cheeks. You had been close to Éomer for as long as you could remember – learned to ride horseback with him, learned to fight with swords and with spears with him, comforted him when his father was slain in battle and his mother died of grief, joined the Éored with him despite your mother’s many complaints – and during all of that time you had developed deep feelings for him, feelings that you as a lay woman and one of his riders had to put aside. And that was all when he was merely the third Marshal.

Now, he was king of Rohan.

You stepped back as you pulled your robe closer to you. You should return to your rooms, you thought. You had plenty of furs that had been gifted to you by Éowyn when you had been given the title of Lady of the Éored after the war. They would do you just as well as a warm bath on a cold night. As you shifted your weight, the board creaked beneath you. You froze.

“Who is there?” called Éomer. You licked your fingers and pinched your candle out, stepping back more to avoid being seen. You shouldn’t have lingered so long. The water shifted. “You had best show yourself, lest I come for you.”

You swore to yourself and stepped to the door, easing it open with one hand while setting your extinguished candle just inside the door. “I would hate for you to leave the comfort of a warm bath, my king,” you called, casting your eyes down at the floor. You could see him in your periphery, standing in the wooden bath, steam rolling off his damp skin. One knee sat on the edge of the bath, while his arm was extended towards his things, folded neatly on a nearby table. Gúthwinë sat atop them.

Éomer swore something violent and quick in Rohirric as he sank back into the water, sending it splashing over the sides and across the stone floor of the room. First, he whispered your name, soft, like a swear or a prayer that only he could hear; then, he cleared his throat and met your gaze. You finally looked up. It was hard to tell, but his face appeared flush in the candlelight. “My lady,” he greeted with a polite nod of his head.

You rolled your eyes as you stepped further into the room, closing the door behind you. The warmth was wonderful, the soft smell of bath oils cloying in the humid air. You curled your toes and eased open your thick robe. You didn’t miss Éomer’s eyes flick down your nightgown. “I’ve known you far too long for you to call me a lady, Éomer,” you joked.

He relaxed against the far wall of the bath, scoffing lightly as he reclined in the water. One knee broke the surface. He lifted his hand to his face and scratched lightly at his jaw. “It’s only proper,” he commented, “Given how hard you worked for your title.”

“A title is just a word, and this is hardly a proper situation,” you said.

He grinned. His other arm lifted from the water to rest on the edge of the bath, his fingers dragging over the surface. “I take it that you came here to warm up,” he said, dropping his hand from his face.

“I did.” You removed your robe and folded it once over your arm, crossing the room to lift Gúthwinë from Éomer’s clothes and set your robe beneath it. “Though, I was expecting to be alone.”

“Oh, are you saying that you would rather be without my company?” he teased. You reached into the water and flicked a spray at him. He laughed softly. “You are welcome to join me,” he said in a voice so low that it stirred between your legs and hardened your nipples beneath your dress. He noticed them, too. His eyes lingered before wandering back to your face.

You cleared your throat and tucked your loose hair back. “Now that is not proper, my king.”

He didn’t hesitate with his response, “If you insist on calling me your king, then I insist that you join me.” He arched a single eyebrow and cocked his head. “Or should I order you to, Lady of the Éored?”

“I’ve never known you to abuse your power,” you commented. You reached up to the collar of your dress, intent on removing the thin garment, but paused. His eyes watched you intently, trailed over the curves that your gown hung off. “Yes?” you asked.

“You’re taking far too long,” he said. “Perhaps I should help you.”

You let the gown fall to the floor and stepped towards the bath, perching carefully on the wide edge before turning and letting your feet sink into the water. “Perhaps you are overstepping your bounds, Éomer.” You swallowed the small moan that bubbled up your throat as you sank into the bath. It warmed you all the way from your toes to the ends of your hair.

Éomer’s hand wrapped around your ankle and tugged you to him, earning a surprised gasp as his hands grasped your thighs and pulled you into his lap. His cock was hard when you settled against him and his mouth was set in a smug grin. “Oh, I overstep my bounds?” he whispered. “Pray tell, what bounds are those? I am king of Rohan.”

“The bounds of propriety?” you offered as his hands cupped your ass. You braced against his shoulders as he rocked your hips against him, his cock sliding over your clit so lightly that you moaned. You threaded you fingers through his damp hair to cradle the back of his head, leaning your forehead against his as he repeated the motion again, and again, and again. “Though, what is propriety compared to our history?” you whispered.

“Nothing,” he groaned, so close to your mouth that you could feel his words. “I want you,” he whispered. A wet hand brushed over the curve of your cheek. His thumb hesitantly traced the curve of your bottom lip. Your tongue flicked out to meet it, pressed flat against the pad of thumb in a motion that made him tremble. “Not as Éomer King, or Marshall of the Mark,” he continued. His arm wrapped around your waist and he lifted you onto the ledge of the bath, tilting his head up watch you.

You slid your unoccupied hand between your bodies and lined his cock up with your entrance. His eyes flickered and he took in a slow, shuddering breath at the feeling of your soaked pussy. His nose brushed past yours, his thumb dropping from your mouth to hold your head still, lest you dared to pull away. Then, he froze, hovered there, watching you. He swallowed as he dared to slide a hand over the back of your thigh and lift your leg around his hips, whimpering your name like it was the only thing he knew.

You smiled, and whispered, “Then take me, Éomer.” You tilted your head and grazed your lips over his. “Make me yours.”

He entered you slowly, stretching you as he buried himself deep, watching as your eyes fluttered closed and feeling your moan against his mouth. His lips ghosted over yours while his own eyes slid shut and you pulled him into you, capturing his mouth with your own. His thrusts were slow and steady, always hitting deep, always skimming the most sensitive spots against your walls that you could not stimulate enough on your own. You whined as he tilted your hips up, gasping his name and gripping his arms as he pulled your legs higher around his waist. You locked your ankles behind his back, urging him faster with a moaned command.

Éomer’s lips skimmed your neck and his hips snapped against yours, sloshing water up around his hips with the new frantic pace. You felt his knuckle graze over your chest and throat, then dip between you, and his damp thumb rolled your clit in tight circles.

You threw your head back with a gasp, bucking your hips up to meet his, feeling the hot coil tightening somewhere in your gut. You covered your mouth to muffle your wails. Éomer grabbed your wrist and pinned it to the wall behind your head, breathless grunts puffing against your ear as he said, “Let me hear you.”

“Éomer!” you panted with reckless abandon, your voice pitching higher and louder until his thumb stuttered over your clit. Your walls clamped around him tighter than they ever had around your fingers and you dug the nails of your free hand into his shoulder as the coil broke and stars burst behind your eyes. Your King, your Marshall, your Éomer wasn’t far behind, swearing and gripping your hip as his hot cum poured into you. His head dropped to your shoulder and his arms wrapped tight around your back, holding you close as your walls squeezed and milked his cock for everything he had. Sweat trickled down your temple, something he noticed when he trailed sloppy kisses over your jaw.

“Are you warm enough now, my lady?” he teased.

You laughed breathlessly. “Far too warm, now,” you murmured. You reached up and pushed his hair back behind his ears as he met your gaze. “I love you, Éomer King,” you whispered into the tiny space between your mouth and his.

“And I love you, Lady of the Éored,” he replied, “Something I should have said ages ago.” His nose brushed yours as he smiled. He leaned into you for a slow and gentle kiss and moved back into the lukewarm water with you in his lap.

[jackiesstudies]

why i’m ‘boycotting’ the nesta book - a thread.

disclamier for people who think i have to love their ship

i’ve met sjm 4 times, have atleast 7 special edition books and spent waaaaaay too much money on merch via etsy. so this is NOT hate, just my own reasong.however, as she begins to post more and more threads on the book she’s publishing - i can’t help but feel triggered as an actual victim and disappointed as a reader.

i know people argue that feyre’s pov is biased but EVERYONE saw the problem in nesta. not just her. that’s why it’s true that she was a ‘bitch’ or a horrible person. because she literally was. not just because feyre thought so. 

reason 1 - elain deserved a book first

jesus fucking christ. the things we could have gotten with a elain book. 

why she loves planting. 

why she listened to feyre’s instruction but didn’t help. 

how she felt being one of the most powerful fae. 

feeling her pull to lucien an going to the spring court where she could flourish as an planter. 

being best friends with azriel and learning to weild her powers. 

a love triangle with three shy people. 

elain helping people.

i feel like this book would have been more ‘powerful’ in the terms of a spin off and more than just ‘here’s two people kissing in the mountains and a traumtic backstory’. we could get so much from elain whereas nesta feels like a dead end. 

reason 2 - it’s unneeded / a money grab

this just support reason 1 but long story short - it seems as if sjm decided that she wants to randomly change nesta’s character so that she can pro-long the book series which is a HUGE sigh.

but because everyone loves cassian - she decided to go that way and drag nesta along with the ‘enemies to lovers’ thing.

and if you’ve seen her old interviews were she talks about nesta...nesta was sjm’s ‘i have someone i hate and i’m going to make them into a character’ character. she said that she loved making nesta a ‘bitch for no reason because it was like the girls she went to high school who she hated and wanted revenge on’... so its clear that she didn’t really like writing her...so why choose them two??? oh, because it’ll sell. 

reason 3 - playing the victim

this is where i’m triggered bc as an actual rape victim / someone who grew up in a bad household, it’s not okay to just sprinkle shit in for excuses. with the first round of books, these backgrounds of trauma made SENSE. however, after everything being said and done in interviews on YOUTUBE where we see sarah say ‘nesta is just a bitch because’... it’s gonna feel fake if she throws in some unneccasry trauma just to have fans pity her.  which she will. if you see the blurbs she’s posted on her ig/website - she’s gonna set it up so that nesta was raped, or beat by their father, or something that was NEVER mentioned in the books before so that everyone feels bad for her instead of just admitting she was wrong...

and that’s not okay. 

STOP SAYING LOOK PASS THE FIRST BOOK. WE DO. SHE WAS RUDE IN ALL FOUR BOOK. THATS WHY SHE WAS SENT AWAY.

WHAT STANS NEED TO UNDERSTAND IS - it doesn’t matter what she went through. 

feyre had a hard life. rhysand had a hard life.  cassian had a hard life.  azriel had a hard life.  morrigan had a hard life.  elain had a hard life.  literally every fucking sjm character had a hard life. 

THAT DOES NOT EXCUSES ANYTHING. IT ONLY EXPLAINS IT. 

so this idea that she can run away and fall in love, romanticize her mental illness and just be forgiven is silly and needs to stop. cassian’s dick is not going to apoligize for her.

reason 3 - the timeline won’t add up

again. if sjm wants to go back on everything she’s said in interviews, on her own youtube channel, written in books and all that - it’s a lazy, sloppy job but hey! i guess. however, we can’t ignore IMPORTANT notes from feyres point of view. nesta didn’t do any work. she barely wanted to do the bare minimum. so pretending that she had to do anything besides be mean to her father and not help elain and feyre. 

sis is the oldest and literally whined when feyre tried to get elain new boots. and ofc you can argue that elain didn’t help out much HOWEVER she did plant things, she wasn’t unneccsarily rude, she did what feyre told her to. did she step up to the challenge - no. but she tried without complaining. 

nesta literally decided to keep her nails clean instead of chopping wood....are you seeing where i’m going???

i would love to see how sjm is going to sprinkle in bits that feyre recalled but change them as if feyre left out details...because then she would be setting up feyre as a liar and ruining her arc for the new girl on the spotlight.

anyways...i could go on and on about it - but i won’t. you’re allowed to have your opnion and i’m allowed to have mine. however i posted this because a nesta fan asked me and we had a DICUSSION w/o fighting over it. so here it is. 

[iamalivenow]

“Xiao.”

He had told Aether plenty of times to call him should he ever need but the reality of it happening is somehow different then he imagined it would be. His name, in Aether's voice, glides along the wind and settles formlessly in the space around him. There's a pull, at his core, a contract that he initiated being fulfilled, that turns him in the direction the wind came from.

No one had ever- no one other than Morax has ever called him like this and he had assumed the pull was divine in nature, but no. No, that doesn't seem to be right.

He rides the wind quickly, and maybe a moment after being called, he arrives.

The rush of a river greats him, a crackle of a fire, and Aether, wide eyed.

“Did you not expect it to work?” Xiao can't help but ask, Aether looks so startled. “Did you doubt me?”

“Just didn't think you'd come so soon, is all.” He says, and smiles. “Happy Birthday.”

Ah-

Why does it feel like his face is burning.  

“Yes.”

Aether laughs, a soft sound he's not used to hearing. Warm and gentle, something about it reminds him Morax or Barbatos. Maybe his call here was divine after all.

“Thank you for the letter. And the Crystalflies.” Xiao finally notices, and how did he miss it up till now, that Aether's hair is out of it's usual braid, dripping down onto the sand. It's even longer like this, which makes sense but somehow the thought never even occurred to him. “I was wondering if you'd want to put them in my hair for me?”

An utterly lethal blow.

Completely devastating.

He debates very heavily inducing a Karma flare up and bolting immediately.

“Can't do it yourself?”

“I-” Aether sighs and oh no did he say the wrong thing please don't let that have been the wrong thing to say- “My sister usually did my hair for me. And then since I got here I'd ask Paimon but she's-” Aether tilts his head and Xiao glances over to the tiny sleeping form, curled up by the fire. “It's long.”

“It is.” Xiao nods and Aether nods too, “Did you call me just to do your hair?”

“Ha-” It sounds like a laugh, maybe, but he gives up half way through. “Y-yes. I guess I did. You don't mind, right?”

“I- I don't.” He moves closer and is Aether blushing or is that just the light of the fire reflecting on his skin- “It's the oddest thing anyone has ever asked of me.”

“So it's memorable?”

Very.

Very memorable.

Xiao doesn't answer, just places a hand on Aether's shoulder, slowly, and turns him around so that Xiao could get to his hair.

“Why is it... wet?”

“I just washed it- I didn't want it to be gross for- for you.”

For him? Was this a plan- was the a premeditated plan- was this his birthday gift? Xiao swallows on nothing, and drags his fingers through Aether's hair.

“I've never served as an attendant in this capacity before. Don't blame me if it's bad.”

“It won't be!” He sounds so confident. “Tell me when you want to put the Crystalflies in. I have them.” Aether's head tilts back- so that he could have an easier time of it probably.

His hair is thick and healthy, Xiao understands why he braids it, walking around with all of it down would certainly get in the way of fighting, and probably be too hot to bare anyway. With it wet it's a little darker than usual, almost golden in the firelight, like spun thread that he runs his fingers through slowly and carefully.

Morax, on occasion, would make jewelry or art that required thin gold thread. Xiao had always stared with a sort of distant admiration, more for the act of creation than for the material but he really feels like he's coming around on it all of a sudden.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he begins to braid Aether's hair, tapping him on the shoulder whenever he decides to place the glowing material into whatever space demands it. There's some realization that none of them are necessary, really, that Aether's hair is already as beautiful as it could ever be, but the Crystalflies sparkle in cool blue tones that do look gorgeous in his hair.

At some point, maybe half way through the braid, Aether's shoulders seem to relax which makes Xiao tense for a moment. He's not sure why, he's seen Aether relaxed around him before, but now? With Xiao's hands in his hair? It's totally different- radically different- now he's responsible for that and thats-

Xiao breaths out through his nose very, very, very slowly.

“When you're done, don't run away.” And Xiao doesn't jump at that. He does not. He didn't let his guard down enough that just hearing Aether talk would make him jump. Because he wouldn't do that. And he didn't.

“I don't run away.” It comes across a little indignant- maybe because it is, because he doesn't run away.

He tactically retreats.

It's different.

“I made you something- food. I made you food. That you like. And I was hoping you could try it for me, with me.”

“Okay.”

“Mm.” He sounds satisfied as he settles again, and Xiao keeps going. Being cooked for- Xiao settles on a tight braid, with most of the Crystalflies nestled at the point where the braid starts, a crystalline cluster that refracts the light and leaves shiny little blue dots along the crown of his head.

“Done.” Aether steps away from him, Xiao feels a weird pang of longing, and he walks the few steps to the river, twisting this way and that. Now out of the glow of the firelight, he's light up in soft blue and Xiao was right. They do look pretty in his hair.

“Oh,  they're gorgeous!” You're gorgeous. “I'm going to try and wear it like this for as long as I can- Xiao, they're beautiful.” You're beautiful. “Okay- okay-” He comes bouncing back, smile as radiant as the crystals in his hair- “Sit down, eat with me.”

“Okay.” Aether grabs his hand and tugs him down onto one of the logs set by the fire, and Xiao goes, staring up at him like he's the sun. “You didn't have to do this.”

“I wanted to. And you said you wouldn't mind, spending time with me.”

“I don't.”

“I'm glad.” There's the sun, being absolutely blinding again. “Here. I hope I made it right. The consistency is sort of a nightmare to nail.”

Oh there's a plate of food in his hands- he takes the first bite, and it's perfect. Dreamlike and perfect.

“You didn't have to-” He starts again and Aether cuts him off.

“Did you like it?” Xiao nods and Aether sits back, sighing with relief. Why? He gets it perfect every time. “I made more, you can take it with you when you head back to whatever it is you were up to before I interrupted you.”

“I wasn't. Doing anything.” He puts more tofu in his mouth to make himself stop talking.

They eat in comfortable silence, Xiao taking turns staring at his feet and at Aether's braid.

“Thank you.”

“Hm?”

“Thank you, for coming over and indulging me.” Aether says quietly, and moves to sit a little closer to Xiao. He's warm, though Xiao runs hotter.

Xiao takes a deep breath.

“I enjoyed it.”

“I'm glad.” Aether turns his head and presses his lips to Xiao's cheek. “Happy birthday.”

“Yes.” Because he can't think of a single thing else to say.

Aether laughs and rests his head on Xiao's shoulder.

“Thank you.” He says and Aether nods, pressing another kiss into his neck.

Maybe he can learn to like his birthday, actually.

[mar-bluu]

Hey @wishingforserendipity your @newsies-secretsanta here!! sorry for a few delays in posting, my computer decided to mess things up for me lol! you mentioned your favourite ship was sprace, so i wrote something for you!! (there also may or may not be a surprise at the end :3)

ship: sprace word count: 3375 warnings: a few swear words and i think thats it

The mattress groaned under his weight as Race lifted himself off the bed, heart pounding. There wouldn’t be much to be afraid of, you would think, at one of his closest friend’s house, but you’d be wrong. His hands were cold and clammy, knees shaking, and mind whirling. It was, in fact, the close friend in question who was the cause of all this. Not that he had any idea, of course. Here Race was, nearly losing his damn mind, while Spot fucking Conlon was sitting in the living room, completely and blissfully unaware of the hell he was going through.

--

Race had always had a good poker face, at least that’s what he liked to think. Spot, however, could recognise his tell from a mile off. A small press of his lips, gently rolling them between his teeth was a dead giveaway for Spot every single time, and within the last twelve hours, Race had been over, Spot had seen it a million and one times. And it wasn’t just the subtle press that clued him in on Race’s inner thoughts, the constant restlessness- tapping on his legs, eyes flicking around the room, whispering under his breath- it was enough to make Spot himself nervous. But, he considered himself a good host, and more importantly a good friend, and nothing was going to stop him from making Race as comfortable as he possibly could.

--

Tip-toeing down the hall, Race peered out into the living room, watching Spot curled up with a blanket on the couch, fixated on typing away on his laptop. Holding his breath, Race padded into the kitchen, grabbing a glass and cracking the fridge, pouring himself a glass of water as quietly as possible. His head was pounding Race raised the glass to his cracked lips, letting the water soothe his dry throat when-

“Is everything okay?”

Race jumped a foot in the air with a small yelp, clutching desperately at the glass in his hand and spun around. Spot was turned to face over the back of the couch, arms raised slightly in an apologetic gesture. “Sorry- but uh, are you okay? This is your eighth glass of water in twenty minutes, you’ve been out to grab three extra blankets and four pillows.” He straightened himself a little more on the couch. “Is the guest room uncomfortable?”

“No!” Race took a quick step forward toward the bench, eyes wide. “No,” he repeated, a little calmer, clearing his throat. “The room’s fine, everything’s fine it’s just…” He trailed off, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“Weird sleeping in a house that’s not yours?” Spot finished hesitantly, cocking his head a little to the side. Race nodded slowly, pressing his lips together. Yeah. He thought, trying to ignore the way the light highlighted the angular features of Spot’s face. Let’s go with that.

--

Lies. Spot gave a small smile as Race excused himself back to the guest bedroom. He was lying. Spot didn’t know what to feel. Angry at the blatant untruths he had given him? Or hurt that Race felt that he couldn’t tell him the truth? Spot settled back onto the couch, hands resuming their position hovering over the keyboard, but the words didn’t want to work anymore so he sighed and placed his head in his hands. Somewhere in the dark recesses of his mind, a little voice whispered, its words cold and poisonous. 

He doesn’t want to be here.

Spot ran his tongue over his teeth, fixing his eyes on the wall ahead.

He doesn’t want to be near you.

Spot had ignored this voice a hundred times before, and he would ignore it another hundred if he had to. 

Why do you think he’s been acting like this? He’s distancing himself from you. He hates you. 

Spot stood up, digging his nails into his palm as he tried to force the voice out. As much as he hated to admit it, that one stung. But he had to remind himself that it was nonsense, that it was just an exaggeration fabricated by his imagination. He knew it wasn’t true. Probably. He sighed once more. Spot wasn’t sure why, but the thought of losing Race hurt him. Like really hurt him. More than he thought it would. He and Race felt so entwined with each other that Spot feared if he lost Race, he would lose a piece of himself. And just like that, the icy voice was back, louder and harsher than before, and Spot shook his arms out as he stepped into the kitchen, biting down on the inside of his cheek in an attempt to get rid of them. He picked up a glass of his own, filling it halfway with water. Maybe Race had the right idea trying to drown his uneasiness.

--

He tried to stay away. He tried to go back to bed, to close his eyes, roll over and go to sleep, he really did. But here he was, laying on the couch, heart hammering so fast he thought he it was going to burst through his chest, Spot’s fingers tugging softly but rhythmically through his hair. He had tried, and he had failed. Race stared straight up at the ceiling, butterflies swirling in his stomach as Spot’s thick fingers brushed through his curls. Spot was humming quietly, still tapping away on his laptop with his free hand, and Race wanted to throw up or pass out, or maybe both. His eyes flicked over to Spot’s face, half-hoping to catch his eye. However, this only made him feel a little guilty, for some reason, so he looked away, ignoring the rising heat in his cheeks.

Chewing on his bottom lip, Race closed his eyes and. tried to forget that it was Spot fucking Conlon who had his hand in his hair, but even with his vision dark, images of the handsome guy he was leaning on danced on the back of his eyelids, playing like an old film reel. Oh, how Race longed to open his eyes and be able to wrap Spot up in his arms, to feel the warmth of his body, toned chest and arms pressed tightly against him. How his heart ached to reach up and press his lips to Spot’s, and how it hurt him so that he couldn’t. The boy in question shifted slightly, stretching his legs out, and Race had a brief flash of panic that his head was too heavy on Spot’s lap. But his worry was short-lived, as Spot settled back into the couch, humming quietly to himself as he thought, fingers ghosting over the keyboard. Race felt a little stupid for the intense spike of cold fear, but then again, he reminded himself, anxiety is often stupid. And just like that, his brain jumped from worry, right back to Spot, his body heat providing such a comfortable, cushiony place for Race’s head. He bit back a small yawn, one that reminded him of the reason he was here in the first place; to “actually relax and try to get some sleep,” as Spot put it. However, Race had never been less relaxed in his entire life. If I’m keeping Spot up, he supposed, I should at least try to stick to the purpose of this. So, he closed his eyes, adjusted himself, and took a deep breath in.

But instead of sleep, the only thing his brain latched onto was the smell of honey, cigarettes, and lavender.

Spot.

There was no way he could sleep now. The scent filled his nose, attacking his every sense. God, how he loved that smell. He loved the way it was so soothing to him, how he could recognise it anywhere and have his face light up. And he loved how it clung to him, the threads of his clothes providing a lingering sense of comfort even when he wasn’t with Spot himself. 

Race screwed his eyes up tighter, trying to block it from his mind, wipe the small smile forming off his face, but with no avail. He was still completely overwhelmed with thoughts of Spot. Every sight, every smell, every sound, every touch, it only reminded him of the dak haired boy, and it was driving him crazy. How soft his hair was, how his rough, calloused hands fit so snuggly, so naturally, in Race’s, how he felt so safe when Spot hugged him, as if nothing or no one could hurt him while wrapped in his arms. Race’s head was whirling now, spinning with an almost paralysing effect. And then, in the midst of all this unruly, untamed chaos, spoke a voice.

Kiss him.

Kiss him.

It echoed through his mind, silencing all other noise.

Kiss him.

It sounded like such a simple thing to do, like there wasn’t a million and one things preventing him.

Kiss him.

Race took another deep breath in. he couldn’t... could he?

Kiss him.

And what if he did? What was the worst that could happen? He could ruin his friendship with Spot for good. But honestly, Race didn’t know what would hurt him more, losing one of his closest friends, or never being able to be with him the way he longed to.

Kiss him.

His breath caught in his throat and time seemed to slow as Race felt the muscles in his arm move up slowly, reaching to cup Spot’s face. He tried to go through with it, but it seemed like his soul had left his body, watching his own actions from afar. He tried, watching as his fingers flexed gently, itching to brush over Spot’s soft skin.

He tried.

Just as his hand neared the corner of his jaw, Spot turned, small, confused frown lacing his features when Race snatched his hand back. “Uh- did you need something, Race?” Spot questioned hesitantly. Race shook his head stiffly and rapidly.

“Nope! All good!” he replied. Spot opened his mouth to continue but Race cut him off. “There’s no need to worry about me,” he chuckled slightly. “just- just forget I’m even here.” Spot clamped his jaw shut, and paused slightly, frown deepening as he gave a short nod, turning back to his bright screen. Race let out a long, slow exhale.

He tried, and he failed.

--

Spot didn’t know why he’d done it, he just saw Race come back out from the bedroom once more, and before he knew it, words were flying out of his mouth. Race had stared back at him, a perfect deer-in-headlights impression, cheeks glowing bright, visible even from where Spot was seated as he patted his lap. Race had cast a quick glance back at the guest bedroom, but hesitantly stumbled his way over, and now here they were. Spot chewing on the inside of his cheek, unseeing eyes scanning his laptop screen, processing exactly none of the information shown, as the other boy lay rigidly against him, Spot stroking his hair softly. He didn’t know why he’d done it, or why Race’s weight against his leg felt so normal, felt so right, but he did know he wanted more. Spot bit down harder on his cheek, feeling his heart quicken and energy crackle through his veins, but he forced himself to remain still, lest he disturbed Race. This was to get him to relax, remember? Spot scoffed to himself. It’s not like he was relaxed to begin with, Race had been stiff as a board from the moment his head came in contact with Spot He sighed, fingers still toying with Race’s curls, he just hoped his legs were comfortable. 

Spot closed his eyes in frustration. It had just started to take a small turn up, and he had ruined it! He cursed himself mentally. Race had gently cozied himself again Spot, and he hadn’t been settled for even a minute when he couldn’t help himself and glance over, a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye, and Race was right back to his rigid state. Spot ran his tongue over his teeth, the failure of his- admittedly- half-baked idea annoying him to no end. He didn’t know why, but he wanted to scream, to yell, to whine, to plead for this to work, for something to work! What kind of friend was he if he couldn’t even help Race relax enough to sleep? He was confused, a little hurt, but mainly confused. He felt… weird. He couldn’t quite place what his emotions were doing, but it was weird. There was a small twinge that stabbed into his chest, a cold blade of pain that got worse as Spot glanced down at the still obviously uncomfortable Race. He looked away, breath hitching in his throat as his mind raced. He decided to chalk it up to lack of sleep. He continued to brush his fingers through Race’s hair, and steeling his nerves, he glanced back down at the boy splayed across his lap. His golden hair was messy, tracks from Spot’s hand creating little peaks like fine hills, delicate freckles dotted soft cheeks, creating a small speckled trail down to chapped lips, and Spot felt his cheeks heat up. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Race’s face, his eyes, or his lips. His hands twitched, itching to move from Race’s hair down to his cheek, and his heart rung loudly in his ears. He sighed, oh how he could just lean down and press a kiss to his forehead.

What?

Spot paused, brain finally catching up with what his overflowing thoughts had spewed. He didn’t know why his thoughts had spun themselves like that. It’s because he’s my friend. He rationalised. I want to kiss him in… in a friend way. Yeah. Yeah, that made sense, right? Just a quick, friendly, kiss to his forehead. Or his cheek. Or his lips. Or- 

Oh. 

He knew why he had thought, and said, and done those things. Maybe it wasn’t in a ‘friend way’. 

“Spot?” came the quiet voice of Race. “Something wrong?” Spot’s eyes flicked down to meet Race’s, panic pricking at the top of his spine. He hadn’t said any of that out loud, had he? 

“No?” he replied, cocking his head, as he tried to keep his composure. “Why?” Race pressed his lips together, averting his eyes down to the side of the couch.

“Oh, it was just that…” he trailed off with a small gesture to his hair. Spot looked down, amid of all his thinking, he had stopped running his fingers through Race’s hair.

“Ah,” he nodded slowly. “Sorry, just thinking.”

“You don’t have to apologise!” Race lifted his head, half sitting up. “Just wondered if I was too heavy.” Spot waved his hand dismissively, moving his hand down to Race’s shoulder.

“Not at all, lie back down if you want, and I can keep playing?” Race shook his head quickly, swinging his legs over the couch. He pressed his lips together again.

“I really should go to bed, I’ve kept you up longer than I should.” Spot sighed, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip to suppress a groan of annoyance, he couldn’t take this anymore.

“Okay,” he said looking up at Race, who was turned away from him now, “What is up with you?”

--

Race froze, back still to Spot. “Wh- what do you mean?” there was a loud sigh from behind him, and a creak of weight shifting from the couch.

“C’mon.” A hand on his shoulder gently turned him around. “You can’t lie to me. Something’s been bothering you from the moment you got here, and it’s not because you’re out of your house.”

“I-“ Race opened and closed his mouth, gasping like a fish out of water as he searched in vain for words that wouldn’t come. His hands shook lightly and involuntarily, heart pounding in his throat, and he felt like he was going to throw up. Spot closed his eyes, bringing his hands off of Race’s shoulders.

“Look.” He said, voice low, “You’re my friend, and above all things, I want you to be comfortable. And if there’s something I’ve done- if I’m making you uncomfortable, I can organise another place for you to stay, I’m sure Albert can-”

“No!” Race’s Eyes widened, holding his hands out in front of him. “No, it’s not that!”

“Really Race?” Spot deadpanned. “Then what is it? What’s with all the restlessness? The uneasiness? The lying?” Race pressed his lips together nervously.

“Lying? No, Spot, I-” but Spot beat him to it.

“I just want you to be straight with me. What’s wrong?” Race swallowed thickly, trying desperately to think one single, cohesive thought that explained away everything, set it all right, but what came out was;

“I love you!” 

Well that wasn’t supposed to happen. 

Race clapped his hands over his mouth, eyes the size of dinner plates, face looking like he just face-planted onto the sun, as Spot stared back at him. 

Stop! He cried internally, anxiety alarm bells ringing in his head. What am I doing!?

But he didn’t stop. In fact, his brain kept whirring and words kept pouring out of his mouth. “That’s what’s wrong okay? And- and now I’m living with you, at least temporarily, and every time I see you, I turn bright-fucking-red!” 

Spot was still standing fixed to the floor, expressionless, and Race felt his anxiety rise. How was he just standing there? Here he was, pouring his heart out to him- albeit semi-unintentionally- and Spot completely stone-faced! Oh god, what am I doing!? But he still continued to speak. 

“I can’t think right around you! My words get all muddled up and I get butterflies in my stomach, and I can’t even sleep cause every time I close my eyes a- all I can see is your damn, stupid smile!” His eyes stung as fought back tears with all his strength.

Still, Spot hadn’t moved, hadn’t said a thing. Race balled his hands into fists, nails biting into the soft flesh of his palm, words still spilling out of his mouth. 

“Honestly, sometimes I can’t stand even being in the same room as you, cause all I wanna do is run up and pull you into a kiss!” Hot tears began to spill from his eyes, leaving damp tear tracks down his cheeks.

“And- and it hurts me that I can’t!” Race wiped away the tears furiously, chest heaving as he fought to keep his emotions under control. The two of them stood there for a few seconds in a thick, tension-filled silence, only broken by the occasional muffled sob from Race.

“Well?” He spat, his attempt at anger doing a poor job of covering up his fear. ”Are you gonna say something? Anything!?”

Spot remained silent.

Race swore to himself, bringing his hands up and gripping at his hair. “Forget it.” He sighed, dragging his hands back down his face, clutching at the neck of his shirt. “That was stupid, I never should’ve-” 

But he was cut off. Cut off by something warm, something solid.

Spot had stepped forward, grabbing Race’s wrists, and pulled him into his chest, silencing him with a kiss. Race closed his eyes, leaning into the kiss, relishing in the feeling of Spot’s chapped lips against his own. Spot moved one hand up and delicately cupped Race’s jaw, brushing his thumb over his smooth skin. They broke apart after several seconds, and now, it was Race’s turn to be speechless, Spot taking his turn to speak. “I-” he began, pulling his hands back to nervously fidget with his fingers. “I’m sorry, I’m just kinda shocked.” Race laughed.

“You and me both.” Spot chuckled too, Race cautiously reaching for his hands again, smiling faintly. They stared at each other for a while longer, pressed flush chest to chest, both of their faces still glowing softly red.

“So…” Race mumbled after a second “Where do we go from this?” Spot hummed, thinking to himself as he stepped back towards the couch, sitting down and pulling Race onto his lap.

“I dunno,” he started, a half-hidden yawn cutting him off, Race following suit a split-second later, burying his face in Spot’s neck. “But would you stay with me tonight?”

--

So yeah! hope that was okay (sorry about the length i got kinda carried away :’3) also: 

:3

[cynettic]

Red String of Fate

A/N - Not really genshin, its more of a quick vent drabble. Angsty and nsfw for triggering topics and gory stuff :’) I felt kinda proud of this one which is why I’m posting it, any constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated!!

_-_-_-_-_

I’m a murderer.

Red string idly tied around my pinky, delicately swaying with every whisper from the wind. Caressed and woven into this world by fate. A gentle binding, thread spilling down to my foot and loosely littering the wooden panels of my floor with loops and twirls. Adorning the dust and encasing me whole in its meaning.

Its promise.

I’ve always hated being bound, held and grasped by an irrevocable hold. Ones I’ve put myself in, ones others have clutched me in. 

Pinching the red string that hung around my finger, I tugged at one of the loose ends of the knots. 

Ones that the red string of fate has tied me to. Several, tangling along the jagged ridges of my knuckles and slipping past the gaps between my fingers. A soft velvet against dry skin, the calloused pad of my thumb gentle when nimbly rolling it along the back of my palm. Silken texture brimming in abundance and pulsing in rhythm akin to one of heartbeat. Slow, steady, eternal.

Full of life.

The darkness in the cramped space of the apartment cages me in like an animal, body growing numb and sending a tingling sensation up my spine. Subduing aching muscles into a deep heavy sleep, complexion falling into well needed slumber. Till it was just the consistent thrum of the thread along my hand that held me awake, fate wrapping its hold on me once again.

Snip.

The motion is always slow, prolonged with the weight of the scissors in my hands. A spectator to the red thread as it slowly dissolves into ash, a ticking time bomb to the end of a life. Another. Seeping at their lifeline until the string finally dissolves at their fingertips, draining the last of their existence and sparing mine.

Greedy for comfort, I selfishly choose myself.

I can’t feel my elbows as I lean forward, ice prickling at my toes and cold slivers digging into my fingertips. Hazy, guilt eats me up like the snowstorm that enraptures my body in snow. Freezing me in place and biting at my mind, frosty reach clawing at my sanity.

But its my body thats numb, I wish my head was.

To be pliable with the nothingness that threatens to devour me, stained and greasy hands fervently scratching the fibers of my tunic. Dirty, I was oh so dirty. Contaminated with a bubbling hatred that quelled inside, pounding with deprecating fists that begged to get out. Pleading, because hands and knees dug for an eternity on the ground wouldnt be suffice to the lives I’d taken. But thread against skin arose an anxiety I could not thwart. Until I was no longer sure how long I’d spent sitting on this desk, staring into the pale grey walls of my apartment. Absent. Knives and scissors littering the corners of the wood, small chunks scraped with only the splinters in my nails to blame. Soiled hands incapable of holding life, a desperate cry to the heavens to spare me the responsibility, to let me go.

Because no matter how feather light the thread felt, the weight of a life pulled me under. Down into the depths of anxiety, because no matter how much I choked in the sea, I could not breathe. No matter how much my arms flailed, I could not rise. No matter how much I screamed, I couldn’t be heard. Not by others, not even myself.

String grows laden with water, a weight pulling me down to the bottom where I cannot rise.

I’m sinking.

The strand pulls me into a gentle hold of uncertainty, coaxing me into the decision to choose myself again and again. Until I’m hesitant to determine whether snipping the vibrant red cord is a punishment or a relief. To finally make it to the shore of the beach, form lifeless against grains of sand. Condemned in self pity, looking for the blood on my hands. 

My hands are clean.

I want to cry because they shouldnt be.

An endless cycle when the waves wash over my ragged form, snaking through my legs and under my arms. Sand letting the sea take me. The murky water is salty against my tongue, and I can only feel the dim sensation of something around my finger before I’m once again plummeting down.

But I always come back up.

Unable to rectify my crimes, I keep adding onto the list, nails slowly biting into the wood of my desk as I mark another one. Another death.

Snip.

I’m so cold.

But regret is like a spider, a horrid looking thing that scales up my leg, embedding sharp legs into the icy numbness of my shins. It leaves me petrified, the idea of swatting away leaving me with immense disgust. So does leaving it there. I don’t want to touch it, not when its on my thigh, on my stomach, up my shoulder blades. Not when it slowly makes its way across my arm, flexing its angular legs until it reaches my hand. Spiders terrify, they make people do things they dont mean to do. So does regret, reaching my frostbitten hands and sending a rush of warm blood. It's a spiking pain that hits, biting the soft skin of my palm and leaving ugly red flush in its wake.

Regret was my drive. My push when I decided to sever the digits that let fate take control.

It was easier to grasp the knife on the side when I was running on raw hatred and self loathing. When my hands were throbbing and I could picture the red string that held me captive, feel the thread palpitate against my finger.  Knowing with certainty that someone was on the other end of that string.

Bound to them.

The first few fingers were easy, blade sharp against unnourished and neglected skin. Soft ligaments and weakened bones posed no threat to my determination, body willing to my wishes. One by one, until the hilt was in my mouth and I was shaking my head back and forth with a strength I hadnt had for days. Wooden splinters buried themselves in the cracks of my teeth, gagging when the tail of the handle caught on the inside of my cheek and dug further into my mouth. I didnt stop, not until I was cutting the wood of the desk.

Until all ties to this wretched fate were cleaved.

 Hands all but circular blobs of discolouration, blue and purple tinting the tips of bumpy flesh and splintered bones. Blood coated pads that soaked into the rotten planks of wood, spilling over the desk and onto the floor. 

Finally. Finally my hands were stained in blood.

Not nearly as much as their ought, but it served its reminder perfectly. A pang of relief slipping through my body just like the crimson liquid that oozed down to the floor. Matting the hollow lines between floor panels with trickles of blood and soaking into my socks.

I was free.

Eyes fluttering closed, the sharp icy pain was gone, shock taking over my body and leaving me motionless. Solace was an odd little thing, consolation after actions of regret. But it was warm, and I could dimly register the ease that spread through my body like a drug. Bitter tasting but leaving me weightless, mind overdosing on the dopamine that pumped through my veins. Vasoconstriction quickening my pulse and leaving me breathless in the best way.

I was free.

Delusional satisfaction left my head buzzing and I didnt know if I was smiling or my face seemed to rise. Eyes rolling to the back of my head before returning to my sockets, head tilting forwards and nearly touching the puddle of blood on the desk. But I was happy, I was free.

Until I wasnt.

Till a bright red string settled once again, blurred vision transfixed on the way it slackened right above my collarbone, below my chin. 

Around my neck.

It was soft, warm as I struggled to realize it was someone elses heartbeat pressing against my jugular. Throbbing at an inconsistent pace and sending my thoughts into a whirlwind of activity. Till all I could think about was taking the scissors in my hand, grip firm and unrelenting to the viscous game destiny played.

Snip.

The realization came too late, palm on the base of the tool when it occurred to me I couldnt grab it. Simply watch as blood slipped through the gaps where my fingers shouldve been, pain seizing my wrist and presenting itself to me for the first time. It was electric, jolts of torment taking me by surprise and leaving me stunned. Shocked, but not enough to tip me off my high. Wretched grin widening across my face when I stared down at the red string, parched lips letting out a measly croak as I spoke. “You outplayed me.” Because at that moment it all felt strangely hilarious, pain building up in the nonexistent slim skin of my fingers. It was as if I could still feel them, and a feverish laugh spilled from the bosom of my throat as I sagged, shoulders shaking. 

The realization was bittersweet and brief before I leaned my forehead on the puddle of blood, baring with the pain of my actions. The consequences to my regrets. 

I cannot escape fate.

[moskaisley]

migraine pt. 5 | relief

gif cred: @coredrive

rating: mature

word count: 4k platinum hi def TV

warnings: angst but also some comfort bc everyone is in their feelings, violence, descriptions of fighting and blood, mentions of death 

a/n: 

me: yea i’ll post by 8pm!!! also me @ midnight:

 i got slammed with some work from my job last minute so thats why she’s a couple hours late!! such is the life of a freelancer but thank u all for being patient anyway hehe. anyways!! i’ve had a LOT of ideas for side stories lately and i’m thinking of posting them in between the main parts of migraine so maybe look out for that??? 

and thank u all for your kind words on part 4!!! ily all and i hope u enjoy this one. alexa play in my feelings by drake  🥺🥺🥺

summary:

“Did you love him?”

You freeze, heart pounding loudly in your chest at the thought. You know the answer, but you’re terrified to speak it aloud, as if Mando could hear you utter it into the universe.

Where you find the strength to feel it all at once.

parts 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6

ao3 link / masterlist

“I’m going on ahead.” 

“Well, I’m not coming with you.”

He scrunches his nose, nostrils flaring. You refuse to look him in the eye.

“Seriously?”

You pick at the threads in the thin blanket on your legs with your nails. He’s fully dressed, standing in the doorway of your tiny dwelling. You’re still in your cot, your last chance to flee with him slipping away with every string you pull.  But fear claws at your insides, paralyzing you in your spot. You hear him shuffle, kneeling beside the bed and forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Please, help me stop them,” he pleads.

Your lip quivers, tears threatening to spill over. He’s such a beautiful boy. You loved and loathed his courage; Luca was always braver than you were, fighting off bullies in the schoolyard and sneaking out after dark. He was the first one to defy the Moff when he showed up at your doorstep, and he was the quickest to arm when they came blasters ablazing. But while Luca had moved forward ready to enact his revenge, you were still stuck in front of your burning home, heat blistering against your skin and pathetic tears streaming down your face. You’re still frozen at the other end of a blaster, cowering on your knees before a man clad in black. You’re still being ushered away down the country road with your brother, two very distinct shots ringing through your ears. 

But Luca doesn’t understand. 

“We’ll die, just like them.”

“Don’t you want to die fighting?”

You tear a hole in your blanket.

“I don’t want to die at all, Luca.”

--

You haven’t spoken to him in days. 

It was quite impressive, really.

Ever since your breakdown, you denied yourself any sort of contact with the Mandalorian, bitterness and hurt still raw every time you looked at him.  At first, he tried to get you to respond to him, prodding with simple questions and painfully awkward small talk. But when his one-sided conversations were only met with more eerie silence, Mando took the hint and stopped trying altogether. You didn’t spend too long in the same space with him either; you made sure to work on opposite sides of the ship. Shifts were still maintained at night to watch over your camp while the other slept; but when it was his turn to take over, you only woke him with a wordless shove and quickly slipped into your bunk to get your share of rest.

Sleep never came.

Instead, you aimlessly tossed on the mattress for hours and hours on end, mind torn over the man standing outside your door. You loathed him, you were sure of it. He hurt you, more than anyone ever had. Took everything and crushed it beneath his boots. Then had the audacity to come back and ask for a favor. It was time to just let it all go; to push it far behind you and go on forward with your heart guarded and barred from the rest of the universe. To live and die alone. 

So why was the thought of never seeing him again making your chest tighten with agony?

You dug your face into your pillow a few times, letting out guttural, violent screams of frustration until your voice nearly gave out.

You should be angry with him. He left, he left, he left.

Just like Luca.

In those solitary hours, you thought a lot about your brother, and how painfully similar this all felt: The resentment that festered in your bones clashing with the deep love and care that resided in your heart. You didn’t want to forgive, but living with these thorns in your side was so fucking exhausting. You wondered if the universe doomed you from birth, never destined for a moment of peace. The warring feelings within you made it impossible to sleep easy, and soon enough, the sun would come up. Mando would be outside rapping on your door and you’d start the day over again. Rinse and repeat.

By the fourth day, the lack of sleep had caught up to you. 

Precariously perched on top of a ladder, you took the day to work on the repulsor grilles. Your mind was in a daze. You struggled to figure out which parts go where, and your hands were so clumsy you kept losing your tools to the small slot you’d been tinkering with. After dropping your screwdriver for what seemed to be the seventh time today, you were so fed up that any caution was thrown into the wind. Hot metal and active wires were the least of your worries as you carelessly shoved your hand down the slot for your lost tool. Your fingers grazed the handle, but as you shifted to get a better angle, you felt a burning shock shoot through your arm. You all but ripped your hand from the slot, wincing as you feel something tear at your palm. Your sudden movement was enough to drive the ladder toppling over. Squeezing your eyes shut, you braced for impact. You hear a low grunt as your body collides into Mando’s, strong arms quickly wrapping around your waist to steady you. Your cheeks grow hot at the feeling of him, and for a moment, your body pleads to stay in his arms just a little longer.

“Are you okay?” the low timbre of his voice brings you back from your panic. 

You quickly push off of him but hiss at the searing pain radiating from your hand. Turning over your palm, you grimace at the big nasty gash that gushes down your forearm with blood. Mando grips your shoulder and spins you around, trying to take your injured hand. 

“Let me see.” 

“I’m fine.” 

You recoil, holding your palm close to your chest and bleeding all over your shirt. Impatient, he goes in to grasp your wrist and wrestles with you again. 

“Will you quit being difficult and hold still?” he growls, voice devoid of any softness. The edge in his voice makes you freeze. It’s the first time on this journey that he spoke so firmly with you. Too tired to fight, you let him take your hand into his and study your injury. 

“Sit,” He lets go of your hand and gestures to the ground. “You’re going to need stitches. And then you’re going to rest. I know you haven’t been sleeping.”

“I’m fine,” you grit.

“It wasn’t a suggestion,” he chided harshly, as if lecturing a child, “I don’t need someone wrecking my ship more than it already has. You can work when you’re capable.”

He briskly storms back into the ship to grab the medpack, effectively ending your spat. Collapsing to the ground, you curse under your breath in irritation as you stare at your stinging cut. A piercing ache begins to radiate in your temples and weariness starts to settle into your bones. You’re so tired. The emotional turmoil of the past week had sucked every drop of energy you had left, and you were left feeling like you’d been hit with a landspeeder. 

A worried coo draws you from your thoughts, and the child looks up at you expectantly. 

“Hey, little guy,” you said, patting his head lightly with your free hand. He gingerly toddles to your thigh and tilts his head at your bloody palm. The kid begins to fuss, gurgling as he claws at the side of your leg. You scoop him up into your lap, and he settles down, satisfied.

“What’s going on, kiddo?” 

Then, he closes his eyes and holds his hand out, hovering over yours. You feel the flesh on your wound begin to move. Your gash is closing before your eyes and the skin is completely healed, as if it was never there at all. You pressed your fingers into your palm; the burning pain had subsided and the skin beneath it was completely smooth. Brows furrowed, your eyes dart from your hand to the child, his eyes slowly drooping closed. Your mind is racing. You hear Mando shuffle back out from the Crest, quickly dropping beside you and checking your hand.

You’re both stunned to silence as the child in your lap falls fast asleep.

--

Early mornings in the forest were cold.

You’d been shivering in front of the fire for a few hours now, wrapped in a threadbare blanket you’d taken from your bed. You stared pensively at your palm, gently tracing your fingers over where a cut should’ve been. With a sigh, you hug your legs to your chest, and rest your forehead on your knees. After the child healed your injury, you thought your shock would’ve kept you from getting rest, but you slipped into sleep the second your head hit your pillow. You woke up later in the middle of the night, insisting to trade shifts with Mando. 

“I doubt you want a repeat of yesterday,” you told him, “Go to bed.”

In all honesty, you needed the early hours of dawn to collect yourself as your mind was all over the place. Between the mysterious child, your clashing feelings for your partner and your impulsive career change, your life had seemed to unravel in the span of a week. You thought of the way he spoke to you the day before; he was quick to care for you, but his voice was emotionless and cold. It sounded very similar when he left all those years ago. You know he only means to keep distance between you and respect your wishes. After all, you were the one who wanted to separate for good after this mission, but the ache in your heart told you otherwise.

Pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes, you could only come to a single conclusion: the Mandalorian had successfully derailed your life yet again.

The cry of an animal pulls you from your brooding and you’re swift on your feet with a vibroblade in hand. Stalking around the trees, you keep low in the foliage and slowly move towards the source of the noise. You see a fathier standing on the main trail hooked to a lopsided wooden wagon. Fruit and vegetables were spread all around the road along with a broken wheel. An old man rounded the corner, looking tiredly around him and began picking up the mess. The grip on your blade relaxes. Standing to your full height, you walk forward to meet him on the main path.

“Excuse me, sir,” you call to him, “Do you need help?”

He gawks at you, obviously not expecting anyone to be in the forest. He gives you a smile.

“That is very kind of you. Thank you, child.”

You learn that his name is Amir. He’s a farmer with fields down the road, and for the past 50 years, he’d make the trip every weekend into town to sell his harvest on the same wagon. He tells you how the fathier lost control, pulling the old carriage and damaging the wheel. 

“I suppose I must invest in those blasted speeder-whatevers,” he sighs. 

You chuckle lightly. He sounds like your father. 

“Please, let me fix it for you.”

Amir sits on a rock to the side of the trail, and you try your best to repair the wagon. Making light conversation with him as you work, you spoke of your own family’s orchard and recounted the times you spent on the farm. His company relaxes you and for a moment, you’re able to forget the chaos that consumed your thoughts earlier. 

“It’s hard work, this life,” he says, “but it is fruitful all the same.”

You laugh earnestly at his joke. He smiles at you warmly, patting his hands on his knees. 

“Where is your family now?”

“They were lost to the Empire. Our farm was burned down.” 

He sighs sadly, “War seems to take from us both. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Please, don’t be. It happened a long time ago,” you say quickly.

A beat of awkward silence passes. Amir changes the subject.

“So what are you doing here? In these woods. You look less like a farm girl and more like a mercenary.”

“Close. I’m a bounty hunter. Our ship crashed just past those trees.”

“You’re with someone else?”

“Yes. A Mandalorian. He’s–” you pause, thinking carefully over your words, “He’s just an old colleague of mine.”

But Amir is a very observant man, and he notices your hesitation.

“Tell me more about this Mandalorian of yours. I’ve never met one before.”

“It’s kind of a long story,” you say sheepishly, “I wouldn’t want to keep you.”

“A long story?” He questions, mischief flashing in his eyes, “I thought he was just a colleague.”

Warmth travels to your cheeks as he looks at you expectantly.

Cheeky old bastard.

But you indulge him, giving him a watered-down version of your history with Mando; how you met, how you worked together for many years before you parted ways, and how he came back asking you to help with his weird magical son. Amir listened intently, and when you finished, his face was pulled in thought.

“It’s a bit odd for a bounty hunter to have a child, isn’t it?” He wonders aloud, “I take it isn’t the safest profession in the world. I could see how he could need the help.”

You chew on your bottom lip, attention focused on twisting a screw. 

“We... didn’t split on the best terms. It wouldn’t be good for the baby.”

“I see.”

Amir notes your sudden change in demeanour, observing the way you tensed at the subject. 

“Did you love him?”

You freeze, heart pounding loudly in your chest at the thought. You know the answer, but you’re terrified to speak it aloud, as if Mando could hear you utter it into the universe.

So you answered him honestly.

“I’m angry with him.”

He lets out a hearty laugh. 

“My dear, you can be angry with someone and still love them.” 

What a nosy man. 

You shrug laughing lightly with him as you go back to work. As you mull over his words, you find them resonating deep within you. Had it been anyone else, you probably would’ve ignored or straight-up denied the question, but connecting with Amir had made you feel comfortable to speak freely. It felt cathartic to put your feelings into words. 

“You know, Imperial soldiers occupied the town for many, many years. My daughter decided to join the rebellion after she joined the local militia. We got into a terrible argument, begged her not to fight, to stay home but–” Amir struggles to finish. You’d stopped your tinkering with the wheel, instead listening carefully to his story. Your heart twisted, as the grief he felt was very familiar. You reached out to hold his wrinkled hand, giving him a sad smile. 

Amir takes a breath, looking wistfully towards the treetops as he continues,

“Sometimes, when people hurt us, we think we want nothing more to do with them. But when they’re gone, we only regret the love we never spoke out loud.”

-- 

Din thought he was dreaming when he woke up to the smell of cooking food. 

When he left the Razor Crest, you were feeding the child a small bowl of sautéed vegetables and rice. To the side of the camp, he spotted bags of fresh produce and grain. You greet him with a relaxed grin.

“You know, some of the things you’ve kept in there haven’t been touched since we split. It was kind of disgusting.”

He’s so confused.

“Where did you get all of this?” He asks.

“There was a man who broke down on the side of the road. I helped fix his wagon and he gave us food in return.”

You pat the child’s head as he finishes up his meal and take him into one arm. Din only stares, bewildered, as you pick up a dish that was sitting by the fire pit and hold it out to him. 

“Eat. And when you’re done, come find me,” you say, “We need to talk.”

--

“We need to talk.”

Words stronger than any weapon. 

Anxiety churned in his stomach, nearly rendering him incapable of keeping any food down. But your cooking was leagues better than any ration pack that he’d had in weeks; Din wasn’t about to (literally) throw the opportunity away, especially if this was some of the last moments he’d ever have with you. He ate slowly, savoring every bite, heart warming at the way you made it especially spicy for him. From the window of the cockpit, Din watched you leisurely skip rocks across the water while the child excitedly wandered along the shore. It was almost unsettling how quickly your energy had changed within a day; it reminded him of the days before he left. The days where there wasn’t a giant rift between you. 

When he finished his meal, Din rounded the corner of the ship expecting to see you at the shore, but you were nowhere to be found. He approached the edge of the water and stared at the abandoned pile of smooth stones. The next thing he knew, he was being roughly tugged by his arm and thrown flat on his back, knocking the wind out of him. He gasped, chest heaving for air and adrenaline coursing through his veins. As he struggled to prop himself up on his elbows, you meandered into his view.  He expected to see your face contorted with rage once again, but to his surprise, your expression was cool and collected as you pulled at the wraps around your hands. 

“We’re gonna spar,” you say, tone suspiciously even, “And you’re gonna tell me everything about the kid.”

Din stares, bewildered as you tower over him.

“Why?”

You still don’t look at him directly, instead tugging tightly at the cloth against your wrist and checking if you’re satisfied with your work. 

“If memory serves me correctly, we’re still evenly matched. 350 to 350,” you say, not even bothering to address the second part of your demands. 

But Din will take whatever you give him at this point, so he complies and swipes at your ankles with his legs, knocking you down. Taking the opportunity to get back onto his feet, he squares himself into position. You propel yourself back to your feet with much more grace, brushing yourself off and bringing up your fists. Din swears he can see faint lines of a smile on your lips and a glint of excitement in your eyes.

“Don’t hold back. Even if I’m mad at you.”

He smirks. 

“Never.”

--

You were always better at close combat than he was; the nature of your preferred weapon required so. But what Din lacked in skill, he made up for in stamina, and that’s why he was able to keep your little competition even for such a long time. Your fight had been going for nearly an hour, and at this point, you’d normally tire out and start getting sloppy from exhaustion. But your residual feelings of frustration and dream of kicking his ass for the past three years kept you fierce on your toes. It also helped that he had a story to tell. 

You listened attentively as Mando told you of the Mudhorn in between your relentless assault of jabs and kicks, how the child used his strange powers to lift a giant beast and how it was unlike anything he’d ever seen before. He also told you how he actually delivered the kid to the client, but turned back to rescue him before the Imperials had a chance to do any harm. (You noted how his voice dipped slightly in shame admitting this to you.) He told you of Sorgan, Tatooine and his reunion with Ran, and how no matter what system he seemed to end up in, the child was always in danger. As you processed this information, your attention seemed to slip, and Mando was able to throw a punch straight into your nose. 

You stumble backwards, cursing at the pain and feeling warm liquid pooling on your upper lip. He relents for a moment, pacing towards you in worry.

“Shit, I’m sorry–” 

You cut him off by gripping his arm, using his momentum to drive him over your shoulder and throw him on his stomach. Pressing your boot into his back and pinning him firmly against the ground, you tease.

“Not the first time I had you like this, Mando.”

You keep your foot firm against him as he struggles to push himself up against you, heavy breaths crackling through the vocoder of his helmet. Eventually, he relents and holds up his hands in surrender.

Pride blooms warmly in your chest, and you collapse on the ground next to him.

I nearly broke one of his ribs this time. You’re dizzy as you come down from the high of adrenaline coursing through you, exhaustion settling into your sore body. 

“If I sustain another injury on this stupid mission, I’m taking all the credits for myself,” you say, wiping the blood gushing from your nose. 

You hear him chuckle lightly beside you.

“You deserve it. I’ve been a total ass.”

“That, you have.” 

Catching your breath, you focus on the sounds of birds in the trees, and the feeling of wind cooling and relaxing your body. It was so tempting to just give into him, but you remembered what you called him here for– why you initiated a duel in the first place. The talk with Amir this morning helped clear your head, but it still terrified you to address it all. 

You take a deep breath, basking a little longer in this moment of peace. 

“Thanks for not holding back,” you said earnestly, pointing to your nose.

Standing up and brushing the dirt from your clothes, you turn to him and hold out a hand.

“Are we good?” he asks, hope slipping through his voice.

“No. Not even close,” your lips curl into a sad smile, “But it’s a start.”

You pull him up to his feet, and your grasp on one another lingers for a fleeting moment. You’re the first to let go, brushing your sweaty palms against your pants. Walking to the shore of the lake, you take a few rocks in your hands and continue skipping them across the still surface of the water. Your heart is racing; you feel his gaze on you, expectant for … something, anything. 

“When my brother left to become a rebel,” you began, voice taught with anxiety, “I was only 18 years old. For a long time, I was so angry with him. Who leaves their only family behind? Alone? To fend for themselves? I was–I was convinced I didn’t care what happened to him after that. That I hated him. ”

Something painful catches in your throat. You skip another rock.

“We were so young. He wanted to take me with him, y’know? Find the Moff that killed our family and get revenge. Destroy the Empire and end their reign of terror. I was too afraid; all I could think about living to see another day. But after a while, I missed him so much–I just wanted my family again. I started to regret not going with him, but then I met you.”

Mando didn’t respond, listening carefully and hanging on your every word.  

“And when you came along, it felt... nice to let someone in again. Not just as a coworker but as a friend. To not be alone. To have someone in my life. To– ”

To fall deeply, wholly, and beautifully in love.

Frustrated, you grip the smooth stone in your hand tightly. You feel like you’re rambling; there’s just so much.

Mando finally speaks, “Y/N, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I’m still hurt and angry,” your voice was beginning to tremble, “That being abandoned for a second time was the worst feeling in the galaxy.  I need you to know that.”

You hear him walk towards you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Mesh’la, please look at me,” he pleads.

“But I also need you to know that and I left things like this, I’d never find peace.”

You turn around to face him, tears in your eyes and heart leaping in your throat.

“Because there was a time where I thought I’d know you forever. And I don’t want to let it go.” 

--

taglist

@bella-ciaao @tiffdawg @peggers-n-beggers @sinnamon-bunn​ @adlerorzel-blog​ @theocatkov​  @paryl​ @fruitsaladtree​ @allisondavis236​

thx loves 💘

[letaliabane]

I Still Care

summary: Even after your breakup, you can’t help but feel protective over the man you loved so much.

warnings: a bit of angst, gunfire

prompts (If you would like to request a prompt, please include the name of the list and the number of the prompts)

19. I’m going to kill you! (angst list)

19. I can’t stand the thought of losing you (love list)

I entered the meeting room, juggling folders of paperwork and wandering through the room full of officers and coworkers. The first face I just happened to look up towards was Javier, and I couldn’t help but let out a groan under my breath.

Let’s just say Javier Peña and I had history, and not one i enjoyed retelling. We had been together for about six months. In all honesty it wasn’t his fault our relationship ended, it was mine.

One night when we had laid together after one of our many heated moments, as his head rested against my chest, lax and worn out, that I couldn’t help but gaze down at him.

His breath brushed against the skin of my breast, eyes occasionally twitching as he dreamt, a snore leaving his lips every so often. His arms unconsciously tightened around me, his warmth wrapped around me, making me feel safe but  also suffocating me.

It was the same warmth that had become so familiar from deep inside me whenever he smiled at me at the office. When he’d check on me, when he kissed me.

That one feeling that I knew would be our downfall.

So I ended it, blaming it all on the idea that ”we would be ruining our livelihoods and be shipped back to the Unites States all because of a fleeting romance.” I would never forget the pain that cross his features that day. And all because of me.

He made his way towards me, pushing through the other men that were in his way.

‘Y/N-’

‘Peña,’ I addressed him, brushing past him. From afar, Steve shook his head, sipping from his coffee cup intently.

He knew the reasoning behind why I had broken up with Javier thanks to Connie unable to stop herself from gossiping to her husband. He never questioned it, but I knew by the way he looked between us that he didn’t agree with it.

‘Okay listen up all of you!’ Colonel Martínez clapped his hands together, gaining the attention of the officers around the room.

‘We just received a tip that could help us in the chase of Escobar! Though it’s not ultimately about chasing him this. We have news that La Quica and a few others of Escobar’s top men are transferring goods just outside of Bogotá. If we can capture them and get them to talk, we can get information about Escobar that will definitely help us.’

I looked around at the men who muttered between one another and nodding before I spoke up, ‘Can we trust this tip?’

He sighed. ‘We have no other choice Y/L/N.’

‘We do! Instead we could send a recon team to scout out the situation and then-’

‘We don’t have time for that!’ I pulled away from the table as he slammed his fist onto it, shaking the glass furniture, seething, ‘you would know that if you were involved in more fieldwork.’

“I would if you gave me the chance dipshit” I thought to myself, digging my nails into my palm to calm myself as many of the other officers chuckled.

I was the first to leave the room, ignoring the looks I got as I made my way down the corridor, Steve catching up to me, ‘You think it’s a trap?’

‘Of course! An unknown tip with no motivation behind it? The Colonel is getting desperate at this point because he hasn’t had anything come up since Carrilo’s passing. But thats not going to stop me from coming out with you guys.’

We began grabbing out gear from the locker room, Steve deciding leave ahead to check on the unmarked cars that were being chosen for the job. I was just choosing a gun when I heard footsteps enter the room.

‘Y/N?’

I looked up to see Javier, his gear on and ready. I couldn’t help but avoid his gaze, busying myself with the rest of my weapons.

‘I know what your going to say Peña. That I shouldn’t be out in the field because its too dangerous but I’ll never learn if I don’t-’

‘I wasn’t going to say that, we need you out there on the field. Especially with a big headed idiot like Martínez out there calling the shots.’

I sighed, slamming the door to my locker before making my way towards the door just behind him. However I was stopped when he grabbed my arms, firmly but gently.

‘Just … be careful. I don’t want you to get hurt.’

I couldn’t help but look up at him, and I knew then he wasn’t faking. His eyes were filled with care, his small smile loving, one that I was very familiar with.

I gave him a small smile, even gripping his hand. ‘You too.’

It had been a trap. The tip we had received was nothing but a hoax, a trick leading us to the outskirts of Bogotá where a number of Pablo’s men had been waiting for us.

I ducked my head as the gunfire flew overhead, leaning against the police truck that was getting vandalised by the bullets that flew through it. I couldn’t help but glance around quickly, and my stomach dropped at the sight of one missing.

‘Steve where’s Peña?!’ I screamed towards him on my left, raising my gun quickly, and shooting a few shots before ducking down again.

Steve cursed beneath his breath, also landing beside me in a heap, heavily breathing. ‘I don’t know! I saw him last going in with the other officers to scope the site.’

My stomach dropped as I peaked back towards the hideout, the one that was currently on fire, thick black smoke billowing from the tops of the towers.

‘I’m going to fucking kill him,’ I muttered before I grabbed my radio, screaming into it, ‘All units, eyes on building, Agent Peña is missing. I repeat, keep eyes on building, Agent Peña is missing!’

I watched as some men broke off from the group and head towards the building on the south side before leaning over the hood of the car, shooting as many of Escobar’s men as I could. Steve, also at my side, doing the same. Once they were all clear, I made my out of cover, running towards the base.

‘Colonel, do you have eyes on Peña?’ Steve yelled into his radio as we ran towards the building, ignoring the bodies that lay across the grass. 

Just as we pushed past the fences, however, we were thrown backwards, hitting the concrete ground hard. I grabbed my ears once I blinked away the white spots away from my eyes, the ringing drowning out the sound of the officers around us, Steve gripping my arm as we sat up.

Flames engulfed the building before us, the smoke now filling the sky with ash and darkness, debris scattered across the driveway and lawn. A choked sob left me as I shook my head, gripping a hand over my mouth. I felt Steve grip my arm, pulling me into him. 

Suddenly a yell rang out, ‘We need help over here!’

We both turned as officers began to emerge from the smoke on the left side of the building, many of them burned or shot, screaming out in pain. And at the back of the group, was Javier, holding up another officer. 

I hobbled to my feet hurriedly, stalking over to him as he handed over the injured officer to some others. He looked up just in time as I threw myself at him. It took him a moment to register my arms around him before he pulled me in tight, pressing his face to my neck. 

‘Goddamit Javier!’ I cried, running my hand through his hair desperately, pressing my lips to his neck, feeling him tremble beneath me, ‘why didn’t you get help through the radio?!’ 

I felt him sigh against my neck, gripping my hip. ‘N-No signal. I tried and tried, but I couldn’t get through!’ 

I pulled away, gripping his face in my hands to inspect him for wounds. I couldn’t help but smile as he leant into my touch, caressing his cheek gently. 

‘You checking me out Y/L/N?’ 

I rolled my eyes, shaking my head at the smirk he worse, only to frown when I saw the large tear in his shirt on his arm, revealing a nasty burn. The same with his waist, skin red and scorched. 

Javier looking down at the site, eyebrows furrowing as the pain began to register through, gripping his waist. 

‘I didn’t even know I was burned ...’ 

‘You should get that checked out Javier!’ 

I turned towards one of the ambulances that began to arrive in large groups, surrounding the area. Just as I let him be handed over to the nurses, he tugged me along, keeping me close. 

As the nurses looked over him, cleaning up the wounds, he kept my hand in his, firmly squeezing it at times when they applied the antiseptic the burns. Finally when they had wrapped up the wounds in gauze and bandages, they left to attend to the rest of the wounded. 

As he rested against the inside of the ambulance, I couldn’t help but run my fingers over the bandages, barely applying pressure to the cotton beneath my fingertips. 

I looked up to find Javier’s eyes on me. I sighed. ‘This is ... probably the stupidest time to do this, but ... you did nothing wrong Javier. You did nothing that made me want to end what we had-’

‘And yet you did,’ I closed my eyes at the coldness of his words. 

‘I-I was afraid, of this,’ I said while pointing between us, ‘and I thought that I could at least save us the hurt it would bring us-’

‘By making a decision for the both of us?’ 

‘I get it Javier! You despise me! And I can never take back the mistake I made! And it’s dumb that it took me this long to realise how much I love you and need you because in all honesty knowing you had gone in that building without even able to tell you how much you meant to me killed me! And I-I can’t stand the thought of losing you! But-but I understand if-’

I whimpered as he pulled me towards him, pressing his lips firmly against mine as he threaded his fingertips through my hair. I gripped his back, wrapping my hands around him as I held him close, my tears warm as they touched his cheeks. 

‘Javier-’

‘Sometimes, you need to shut up,’ he gasped against my lips, pulling away with my lip between his teeth. I gasped softly, pressing my forehead to his, and I couldn’t help but smile. 

He thumbed away the tears that strayed from my eyes, shaking his head, ‘I never stopped caring Y/N and I’m not about to give up the chance to try this again.’ 

Steve smiled from afar, pulling the cigarette from his lips with a smirk as he shook his head, heading back towards the car. 

Masterlist | Pedro Pascal Masterlist

Tagged: @pascalisthepunkest​

A/N: Yes I’m pulling these out of the bag one by one, hope you all are enjoying it! Feedback is always appreciated!

Remember requests are open for Pedro Pascal characters! Check it out and request whatever you like!

[strawnarrries]

I know you've written frat Niall but he's got me so hot and bothered right now, I'm hoping you'll take a new one. AA gir tells frat Niall that he's got a small cock and of course he has to prove her wrong. So he keeps trying to seduce her until he finally gets there, and then he makes her choke on his big cock. Lots of build up, lots of foreplay, like him teasing while he's still in boxers. And then lots of boasting and making her admit how big it is while she gags on him. Oof, sorry!

i decided to make this a long blurb instead of a one-shot, hope you don’t mind! also i am so sincerely sorry this literally took months for me to write. i know the angel who requested this sent a couple messages and i gave her some updates but write when i got this request i decided to take a little break from writing and stuff and when i wanted to get back to writing my computer broke and i had to get a new one and it took forever to come in bc of covid but the frat niall smut is finally here and i really hope you all enjoy it! //

“i got a small cock, huh?” niall smirked at you, sitting down next to you on the leather couch in the library where you worked on your schoolwork. 

“oh my god,” you mumbled to yourself, rolling your eyes and scooting away from him.

“don’t move away from me, babe” he hummed, scooting next to you again and resting his arm on the edge of the couch behind your head.

“dont fucking call me babe” you snapped

you couldn’t stand him. he was 100% your least favorite person on campus and he knew that, yet he still never leaves you alone.

“feisty today, aren’t ya?”

you rolled your eyes again, regretting not bringing your headphones today, “go away”

“not before ya tell me why yer tellin everyone i gotta small cock. never even seen it so how would ya know?”

“don’t haveta see it to know it’s small” you snapped

“ouch, love” 

you rolled your eyes again, “can you please leave? im trying to do my homework”

“‘m not leavin till ya say I gotta big cock” 

“Im not saying something thats not true”

“ah cmon how bout ya come over to my place and i can prove it to ya?” he murmured in your ear, his hand resting on your thigh, inching closer to your heat 

“omg fuck off” you gave him a disgusted look, pushing him away despite the shiver that went up your spine and the heat that pooled in between your legs 

“oh y/n cmon, i know ya cant resist me” his lips fluttered just under your earlobe and you mindlessly tilted your head to the side, granting him easier access

he continued to try to seduce you and you tried your best to not give in for as long as you could but it def was hard. you couldn’t believe you were about to give into the temptation but fuck he was so sexy and really knew how to get you going so you turned your head and your lips connected with his. they moved in sync, his tongue showing his dominance against you and fuck it was hot.

the next thing you know, youre at his house, straddling him on the couch, clothes are flying in the air, hot and heavy kisses being exchanged. your hands roamed each other’s bodies, feeling every inch. you’re both in your underwear when his fingers reach around your back and fumbled with the clip of your bra. he easily got it undone within seconds and you weren’t surprised at all, you knew he had done this a million times before but you weren’t thinking about that right now, you just wanted to get your hands all over him. 

as he cupped and massaged your breasts with his big hands, you dipped your head down, kissing and nipping at his neck. you made sure to leave marks for him.

“get on yer knees, gon’a fuckin’ prove t’ ya dat me cock isn’t small” he growled 

you obeyed, trailing your lips down his chest and getting comfortable on the floor in front of him. your fingers fumbled with his zipper, slowly unzipping and unbuttoning his jeans. he dragged them down his legs, letting them pool at his feet, exposing his black calvin kleins. you palmed his member, massaging it gently, looking up at him through your mascara-covered lashes. his lips were parted, eyebrows furrowed together as he waited impatiently to feel your lips wrapped around him. you decided to be a little tease, leaning in and lightly pressing your lips to him. you let your teeth gently glide against him, watching as it sent visible shivers up his spine. 

you heard a soft moan leave his lips while you were placing your hands on his thighs for support and as you leaned in, you pressed your lips to his bulge again, teasing him. he began to get impatient, his hips bucking up into you. your hands caressed his thighs while your mouth worked on him over the fabric of his briefs. you sucked, licked, and skimmed your teeth over him, driving him absolutely nuts. you continued to tease him until he became desperate and vocal, begging you to do something.

eventually you decided you had tortured him enough, you slipped your fingertips past the elastic band of his briefs and tugged on them. he lifted his hips and you pulled them down his legs, tossing them to the side. his hard member was revealed to the cool air and visible goosebumps rose on his skin. you smirked as you noticed how big he actually was. 

you wrapped your hand around the base of him and began to slowly pump him, watching at precum oozed out of his swollen red tip. you eventually lowered your mouth onto him, causing his breath to hitch before letting out a low growl. you began to bob your head up and down, your right hand wrapped around what your mouth wasn’t working on. he moaned lowly and used one hand to reached down and thread his fingers through your hair, the other still supporting his weight behind him. he tugged on your locks, his head lolling back and his adam’s apple bobbing up and down. you watched him through your mascara covered lashes, admiring how he reacted to you, telling you that you were making him feel good. soft groans would leave his lips, his eyebrows furrowed together, his grip on your hair tight. he was so sexy. 

as you bobbed your head up and down on him, you went deeper and deeper on him, occasionally paying attention to his bright red tip, sucking and swirling your tongue around it.

“big innit? fuck, admit it babe. tell me how big i am” 

“mm, so big, fuck,” you moaned against him. 

you continued to praise him, finally admitting how huge he was and how much he was filling your mouth. his moans were like music to your ears. they were so deep and so raspy, letting you know you were doing a good job pleasing him.

he grabbed your head with his other hand, guiding you back and forth on him quickly. his tip hit the back of your throat every time you went down, causing you to gag on him. your eyes water and soft whimpers involuntarily left your throat, vibrating against him. your nails dug into the skin of his thighs involuntarily, definitely leaving marks for the morning. your throat enclosed around him and you could feel his veins run up against your walls. 

“fillin’ yer throat, aren’t i?”

“mhm” you whimpered, looking up at him through your teary eyes. you could just barely make out his figure, his chin pressed against his chest and pleasure was written all over his face. 

he continued to fill you throat, moans spilling from his lips, bouncing off the walls and echoing through the room. you could feel him contract in your throat and his grip on your hair get stronger and you knew he was close. you whimpered against him and he groaned out, “fuck, i’m cummin’, don’t fuckin’ stop”. profanities spilled from his lips. his head left your head and grabbed onto the pillow next to his head, squeezing it so tight his knuckles turned white. 

you eased him to his orgasm, pulling him out of your mouth and sticking your tongue out. you placed his tip on your tongue, pumping him as his orgasm took over. you milked out his salty release all in your mouth. his stomach clenched and profanities and moans continued to echo through the room. 

soon enough he began to come down from his high. you swallowed every last drop of him, grinning as he softened in your hands. you snaked back up his body and attached your lips to his, letting him taste himself on your tongue. 

“gotta stop spreadin’ false rumors ‘bout me cock, huh?” 

[barnesandrogersfanfics]

Rose Coloured Glasses - Part 11

Warning!! Spoilers from Defending Jacob!!

I didn't hear from Andy again for hours, it wasn't until around 10:30 that my phone started ringing.

"Hey" i answered quickly "how bad is it?"

"The worst..... the partial finger print they found was a match for Jake.... Y/N they've arrested him!".

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Ive had the police at my house all day, they've torn the place apart..."

"Shit..... i'm so sorry...."

"I tried to tell them this doesn't prove Jake killed Ben.... they knew each other, they have the same classes.... there could be a hundred different reasons for that fingerprint!" I could tell by his tone that he was more than likely pacing as he told me what had been happening.

"So what happens now?"

"I had to hire him a lawyer, we're going down to the courthouse first thing in the morning for the arraignment, find out what the bail is gonna be set at. We went down to the station to see him earlier, it was awful having to leave him there.... it broke my heart. How can they think my son is capable of killing this kid... his a good kid"

"I wish there was something i could say to make you feel better...." i sighed picking at a loose thread on the cushion in my lap.

"I know. You don't have to say anything its nice just having someone to talk to"

"Hows Laurie handling it?"

"I don't know, shes been pretty quiet. She wont talk about it.... shes been tidying Jakes room since we got home"

"You should go check she's okay..... she's going to need you Andy"

"And what about what i need?....."

"You'll need eachother..."

"Thats not what i need....." he mumbled quietly but i still heard.

"You should go try and get some sleep, if you need me you know where i am"

"Okay.... thank you Y/N"

"Anytime".

We said our goodbyes and ended the call, i tossed my phone on the coffee table shaking my head. Id met Jacob a couple times over the months id worked with Andy and he seemed like such a sweet kid.... how was this happening?

Around 11 i headed to bed, i wasn't tired at all but i had to try and get some sleep. I laid in bed staring at the ceiling for way too long! My head whipped towards the bedroom door when i heard a light knocking at the front door. I sat up kicking off the sheets and walking over to the window, peering out i saw Andy standing there! Looking down at myself i realised i was only wearing a tank top and my panties, i grabbed my dressing gown from the back of the door and quickly slipped it on as i made my way downstairs.

"Hey.... sorry to just stop by like this i know its late...." he said as soon as i opened the door.

"Its fine.... you okay?"

"I don't know, i went for a drive to clear my head and ended up here" he shrugged shaking his head.

"You wanna come in? I can make you a cup of tea...."

"Okay, yeah that'd be nice. You sure?...."

"Of course, come in. I couldn't sleep anyway" i smiled opening the door wide enough for him to come in. He followed me into the kitchen taking off his coat and tossing it over the back of one of my dining room chairs. I pulled a couple of mugs out the cupboard and flicked on the kettle, when i turned around Andy was walking towards me undoing his top button of his shirt and loosening his tie. He looked exhausted.

"Thanks again for this" he said quietly leaning against my kitchen sink crossing his arms as he watched me make the tea.

"Honestly Andy its fine. I don't mind at all...."

"Y/N...?"

"Yeah?" i turned to face him and he held his hand out towards me, i didn't even think about it, my hand automatically reached for his and i let him pull me towards him until there was no gap between us. His arms tightened around me holding me close.

"Andy...." i started to say leaning back to get a look at him but i was cut off when he closed the gap between us again and kissed me. This kiss was different to the others we shared and nearly took my breath away, i had to push him back a little to catch my breath.

"Maybe we shouldn't be doing this right now...." i gasped trying to clear my head.

"Why not? I need you.... i was thinking we could pick up where we left off this morning" he said with sexy as hell grin.

"I just.... i don't think its a good idea...."

"Is this because of whats going on with Jake? You don't want me anymore?" He took a step back looking down on me like i had physically hurt him.

"What...?! No! It has nothing to do with that! You know i'm on your side!"

"So what is it? Whats changed...."

"Its just, your family needs you and your here with me.... i feel guilty"

"Well don't. I cant do anything for Jake until tomorrow anyway and Laurie and I barely speak on a good day"

"And your not just here because your lonely?"

"No! Im here because for the few minutes/hours i'm with you.... you make everything seem okay.... i cant stop thinking about you"

"And i'm not just a distraction?..... i've done the whole casual thing and that doesn't work for me...."

"I don't want this to be a casual thing. I don't want to have to share you with the likes of Frank" he pulled me close again "i'm too possessive to share you. I want to know that your mine and only mine" his hands moved down and untied the knot on my dressing gown before slowly pushing it open "look at you...." he mumbled bitting at his bottom lip as his eyes took in my half naked body "your not wearing much sweetheart"

"I wasn't expecting company..."'i replied breathlessly and he pushed the dressing gown all the way off until it pooled around my feet.

"Please tell me you still want this.....that you still want me..." he whispered as he pressed kisses under my ear, his hands running under my tank top caressing my back.

"I want you" i nodded quickly as i got lost in his touch. That was apparently all he needed to hear, Andy picked me up like i weighed nothing and carried me through to the bedroom.

I was woken up by kisses being placed over my collarbones and up my neck before he reached my mouth.

"Mmm i could get used to that kinda wake up" i smirked as i stretched and tried to open one eye at least! It was then i noticed Andy was sat beside me fully dressed.

"Your leaving already?....."

"I don't want to believe me! I would be more than happy to just stay in bed with you..... but i have to get home and get ready for Jacob's arraignment"

"Okay" i gave him a smile as i run my fingers over his bearded jaw "call me later?"

"Of course. Im gonna tell Laurie about us.... i don't want to hide this from her"

"Is now really the time?..."

"It'll be fine" he leaned down and kissed me "go back to sleep"

"Okay, hope everything goes okay with Jake"

"Thank you" Andy smiled, quickly kissed me again and then covered me with the blanket that i must have kicked off in the night "i'll call you when i get home from the courthouse" he said as he headed to the door, he gave me one last look then he was gone.

All the news channels were covering the Ben Rifkin murder. I sat watching as Andy and Laurie walked into the courthouse behind an older woman who must be Jacobs lawyer. The reporters swarming around them shouting questions and hoping for some kind of comment from them, but they both just carried on walking into the courthouse their faces void of any emotion. I decided i didn't want to watch anymore and headed to the kitchen to make some breakfast and a cup of coffee.

A couple hours later Andy was calling me as promised.

"Hey" i answered "how'd it go?"

"Horrible.... but his home. Pretrial is set for August 21st"

"Is Jacob okay?"

"His tired, his sleeping at the moment"

"Im guessing he didn't sleep much last night, poor kid" i shook my head at the thought of him in a cell all night.

"I told Laurie about us" he suddenly blurted out "we've got reporters camped outside the house and following us everywhere, i didn't want her to find out through them"

"Okay, how'd she take it?"

"She was fine with it, she actually asked when she was gonna meet you"

"Oh..... i don't know about that" i shook my head feeling my heart race.

"Y/N its fine, like i said its been over between us for a while now. We're like best friends.... please?"

"Andy....."

"There's something i need to talk to you about as well"

"Fine. You coming to me or am i coming to you?"

"Could you come here.... i don't want to leave Jacob and Laurie alone with the reporters camped outside"

"Okay. Do you guys need anything? I could stop by the store on my way" i asked biting my at my nail nervously.

"That would be great actually"

"Okay text me what you need, im just gonna go get dressed and then i'll head out"

"Okay sweetheart, thank you".

After ending the call with Andy i went upstairs to get ready. I was already a nervous wreck at the thought of meeting Laurie but part of me knew i needed to do it, just so that i could put my mind at rest that she really was okay with me and Andy.... that i wasn't being a 'home wrecker'.

Everything taglist: @jesseswartzwelder @dumblani @barnesandrogersworld @patzammit

Rose Coloured Glasses taglist: @readermia @princess-evans-addict @jennmurawski13 @matsumama @ex-bloodjunkie @kaithezaftig @rynabarnesrogers-reading @rainbowkisses31 @ms-betsy-fangirl @supernaturalwintersoldier