#this is the plant i want on the shelf above my bed | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

torialefay · 8 months ago

Note

comments and thoughts on the channie content from today's jpn fanmeet?

He’s been so into his “cutie boy” era and I’m honestly here for it. And ofc I love his curly hair the most, but I am really liking the straightened hairstyle he’s had over the last little bit. It actually has been feeding my delusions bc remember him talking about how he’d love to wear his hair out more, but he just doesn’t know how to style it? Well I could figure out the curly routine, but his straightened style??? Easy. Like lemme do it for you baby 🥺 Plus the video of him almost kissing Binnie’s hand ughhhhh

Because imagine having a lazy morning with Channie & you end up doing his hair 🥺🫶🏼

The two of you had stayed up late playing games, drinking, telling stories, and talking into the darkest hours of the night.

When you’d woken up in the morning, the sun was peaking through the back of the blackout curtains in Chan’s bedroom. Your movements woke him up as well.

“Morning baby,” he’d whispered sweetly in his crackly morning voice before reaching his arms around you to pull you in closer to him. You’d let your head rest in his chest as he nuzzled his chin onto your forehead with a smile.

“Good morning,” you’d tried to say back, the words getting lost in the barrier of his bare skin. Your brain was still foggy, but your heart was content beating next to his.

“What do you wanna do today?” he’d mumbled, squeezing you a bit harder before resting with you in an even tighter embrace.

“This,” you smiled, planting a soft kiss to the skin in the middle of his chest.

“Mmm good,” he whispered, moving one hand to hold taut to the area between your lower back and your ass. “Back to bed, angel,” he managed to get out while grinning to himself.

A few hours later, once you’d both began to stir, Chan checked his phone, scrolling through the notifications, one after one. He’d absentmindedly opened TikTok to start watching videos with you. It’s something you’d done time and time again. Chan’s algorithm was different than yours to say the least. Random gaming videos, sports reels, music stuff, etc. The one thing you had in common on the platform was recommended STAY edits. And every time Chan skipped a sexy edit of himself, you pouted until he went back and let you watch it. Of course you had to tease him a bit afterwards, rubbing your hand up and down his torso. “Look at my fine mannn,” you’d teased, pulling back with a big smile on your face.

“Hush,” Chan rolled his eyes, lazily grinning before pulling you back to him so you couldn’t say another word.

Later, he’d received a text from Felix saying that a few of the boys wanted to check out a new gallery that had opened up about an hour away. He’d asked if you and Chan would like to go.

“I’m more than content with just laying here with you, baby,” Chan said, leaving the decision up to you.

“I am too… But it could be fun if you wanna go,” you looked at him with big eyes, excited that you’d been included in the plans.

“We’d better get ready then,” he’d said before stretching his arms out above his head. “I think they’re wanting to leave in a little over an hour.”

45 minutes later, and you were finishing your makep as you saw Chris walk out of the bathroom toward his closet, wearing only his shorts. You watched the outline of his back from your makeup mirror as he sorted through shirts before pulling one over his head and down his torso. He grabbed a beanie from the shelf and chucked it on as well. The way his muscles flexed as they were reaching up was a sight you’d never get over. After giving himself a one-over in his long mirror, he walked behind you and plopped onto the bed, waiting for you to be ready.

One final brush stroke of mascara and you were done. You turned in your chair to face your boyfriend. “Your hair is so cute baby. Why don’t you wear it out today?”

Chan blushed a bit before looking down. He always got like this when the hair conversation came up.

“You know I don’t know how to style my hair,” his voice went up as he spoke, still feeling shy. “It’s got a mind of it’s own right now… And every other day as well.”

“Well lucky for youuu-“ you dragged out as you stood and walked to stand in front of your boyfriend. “I can do it for you! Please please pleaseeee,” you plead, grabbing his hands to squeeze them.

He giggled, giving into you waving his hands up and down. “Okay, okay, you can give it a go. I trust you to do me right, yeah?” he joked.

Your whole face perked up at his agreeance, giving a couple of quick claps before running into the bathroom. You sorted through your things before returning to the bed where he was sat.

“Okay SO, there’s good news and bad news. Bad news is that I only have stuff to straighten hair. Good news is we can go buy some curly hair products once we get done with the boys!” you said excitedly, reveling in your new-found service. “We’re gonna curly girl method you! I’ve always wanted to try it!”

“You’re gonna do what to me?” Chan asked, half laughing but half squinting his eyes in confusion.

“You’ll see.” You walked to the bed to grab a pillow and set it in the floor just between the bed and your makeup table.

“Alright baby,” you said as you plugged your straightener into the outlet, “you sit on the pillow and I’ll get you all squared away.”

Chan did as he was told and shimmied down to sit cross-legged on the pillow. As you situated yourself into the bed behind him, you instructed him to lean back into you, wrapping your legs around him in the process. “Gotta hold you still for good measure,” you grinned.

After peeling Chan’s beanie off, you gave his scalp a quick rub, earning a light moan in response. You took your time combing through his hair, adding some heat protection and a silkening gloss before running the styling tool through it. You made sure you were on the lowest heat setting and were as gentle as you could be. You didn’t want to throw his natural pattern too far off.

Once you’d finished, you made sure to add some holding spray to make sure it would last him the day. “Alright, final check,” you said, swooping your feet out and turning them so you could land in front of him. You let yourself fall down to your knees so that you were straddling his lap. “Okay now look at me,” you instructed. Without really giving him time to cooperate, you placed your hands at his jaw to tilt his head up to eye level with you.

“Perfect,” you smiled, admiring how handsome he looked with his hair on display. “Now tell me-“ you strained as you reached backward to grab a mirror off of your table. “If there’s anything you want me to change,” you said, holding the mirror out to Chan.

He took it carefully before bringing it to his head. He swerved it around, making sure to check every angle. “Wow,” he smiled before lowering the mirror, “you did a good job, babe. It looks really good. Thank you,” he said sweetly before reaching out to grab your hand. He held it so softly, so tenderly before holding it up in front of his lips. He pressed a small kiss onto the back of your hand as he watched you, thanking you again silently with his eyes.

The gesture put a wide grin on your face. You squeezed onto his hand again before leaning into a hug. “You don’t need to thank me, I’d do it any day. But next time…” you said, pulling back, “we’re leaving your curls, okay?” You lightly scratched the back of his neck.

A little smile spread across him. “If you think you can manage it.”

“Oh, you’re gonna love it by the time I’m done with you,” you teased.

Chan wrapped one arm around your waist, letting the other hand trail down to rest on your ass. He held tightly as he pulled you closer on his lap. “I like the sound of that.”

#bangchan fluff #bangchan imagines #bangchan scenarios #bangchan stray kids #bangchan x reader #skz imagines #skz fluff #skz scenarios #skz soft thoughts #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #bang chan #bangchan x female reader #bangchan x you #bangchan soft thoughts

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thatchickwiththecamera · 9 months ago

Note

Hi!!

Can you write something related to Matt? I'm soooo obsessed with him lately.

Not a specific request, just Matt 🥺

Thank you!!!!

Author’s Note: Someone sent in two requests in one ask for Matt and Ruffilo. Since this wonderful anon didn’t specify what they wanted their request regarding Matt to be about, I am responding to the Matt portion of that double prompt through this request!

Check out my other writings here: MASTERLIST

Warning: Contains Smut, 18+ ONLY

The Shirt

The blazing rays of the morning sun were already bearing down on Olivia’s shoulders as she unloaded the bags of fertilizer and potting soil out of the trunk of her RAV4. Even at 7am, Texas in the middle of July was scorching and that heat would take a bite out of you really quick if you weren’t careful.

As she was stacking the last bag on top of the pile she had made on the corner of her driveway, a truck drove up onto the concrete slab and parked next to her. The bed of the truck was loaded down with various gardening tools, cuts of lumber, and a number of plants nestled in their temporary plastic pots.

Matt Dierkes, one of Olivia’s oldest friends, emerged from the driver’s side, his long hair covered by one of his signature ballcaps. He wore an old Bloodline tee with the sleeves cut off and a pair of athletic shorts with the name of their high school printed on them.

Matt had the next three months off before his next set of shows with the guys and had agreed to help Olivia build her own garden and green space in her backyard. Gardening was a hobby he had picked up during the pandemic when the music industry shut down touring wise so she naturally turned to her best friend for help when deciding to start her own.

Shortly after he stepped out of the vehicle a little blonde blur of fur hopped out as well and bolted toward where Olivia stood. She stopped what she was doing and scooped Matt’s yorkie Boo up into her arms and hugged him to her chest as he licked her face in greeting.

She let out a laugh in response and lowered herself into a criss-cross sitting position on the ground to continue playing with her friend’s furry child. Matt lowered the tailgate of his truck and paused, peaking around the truck to watch his best friend play with his dog. The view made him smile. Two of his favorites in one place.

They soon moved everything, including Boo, to the fenced in backyard and quickly got to work. The plan was to get as much done in one day as they could by sundown and then finish whatever was left tomorrow. The reward at the end of the project was a pair of tomahawk steaks and a twelve pack of Dr. Pepper that sat on the top shelf inside Olivia’s refrigerator.

They finally took a break a little after noon. They had gotten the ground cleared and the three raised garden boxes built and lined with a weed barrier. Now, they laid down on the cool concrete of Olivia’s covered back porch. Olivia with a couple of pillows from one of the lounge chairs nestled under her head, Matt’s with his head propped up on the side of Olivia’s stomach, hat off, now covering his face.

The ceiling centered above them steadily pushed warm air down over their bodies. Boo lay curled up on the elevated cooling dog bed that she bought specifically for him that she placed next to the door while they worked.

The mixture of warm air and cool concrete made it tempting to drift off to sleep and take a nap right then and there. One of her Spotify playlists shuffled out various songs through the bluetooth speaker sitting on the edge of the porch. She hummed along to lyrics of an A Day To Remember song and found herself absentmindedly playing with the hair on Matt’s now uncovered head. She loved his long hair and dreaded the day he ever decided to cut it.

“Hmmm, if you keep that up I am going to end up falling asleep.” Matt commented, voice partially muffled by the hat.

He moved the hat slightly, peaking to look over at her with a smile. Her eyes were closed and a content smile adorned her face as she continued to fiddle with his light brown locks. He reached up with his right hand and poked her side with his thumb, knowing fully well how ticklish she was.

She squirmed and tried to swat it away with the hand not currently occupied with his hair. He did it again and when she tried to swat at his hand, he grabbed it and pulled it toward him, trapping it in his own against his chest. She let out a laugh.

“Matthew, if you wanted to hold my hand you could have just said so.” she said, now looking down at him with a smirk.

He rolled his eyes, jokingly flipped her the bird before throwing the hat back over his face. Her hand remained in place on his chest, his right hand draped over it. She made no effort to move it. They fell back into a comfortable silence. She continued to play with his hair and eventually felt him start drawing slow gentle circles with his thumb against the back of her other hand. They remained that way until their stomachs signaled it was time to eat lunch and get back to work.

By the end of the day, all three garden boxes were full of the proper ratios of soil, fertilizer, and mulch along with strategically placed irrigation hoses. Pre-grown sprouts had been transplanted from their plastic pots along with regular seeds into neatly organized and labeled rows in each box. In a few weeks Olivia would have tomatoes, various peppers, carrots, asparagus, sweet corn, and potatoes growing tall and green in her garden.

They both agreed that it was too late and they were too tired, sweaty, and partially sunburnt to bother cooking and decided to hold off on the celebration dinner until the next afternoon. After loading the various gardening and power tools back into the bed of his truck, Matt turned and watched Olivia walk over with Boo in her arms.

“Can’t he just stay here tonight since you’re coming back tomorrow anyway?” She asked, not wanting to part with the pint sized pup that she had come to adore almost as much as his owner over the years.

“Liv, are you trying to steal my dog from me?” He accused, stepping closer to scratch the little dog's head before looking down at his much shorter friend with a smile.

“I don’t have to try, he likes being here,” she defends.

Yeah, he’s not the only one, Matt thought

“and besides, he lives here when you’re on tour and now that you’re home I miss him.”

“Oh, so what you’re saying is you can’t wait for me to leave again.” He teases.

“No, I’m saying that now that you’re home, I miss having Boo around.”

“So you don’t miss me when I’m on tour, but you miss my dog?” He asks.

“I’m going to smack you,” she threatens, “you know what I meant asshole”

“Boo, are you going to let her talk to your dad that way?” he asks with a sarcastic gasp.

“Boo, If I didn’t know any better, I’d think your dad is a little jealous.” She states, kissing the top of the dog's head, smirking at her friend. Blue eyes glowing with a hint of mischief.

He rolls his eyes.

“You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“Lies,” She states matter of factly. “So can he stay?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” he replies with a sigh.

Everyone who knew Matt knew that he was certainly not a pushover. Quite the opposite in fact. He could be an outright ass sometimes. But there was just something about Olivia that made it hard to say no, even when they were younger. He chalked it up to her just being very persuasive and good at making a convincing argument. But as they had gotten older, he knew it was because he loved seeing the way her eyes lit up with excitement when she was happy. He liked being the one that made her happy.

When he got home, he headed straight to the shower, wanting to rinse away all the sweat and dirt that had built up over the course of the day. From the shower he lazily went through the rest of his bedtime routine before seeking refuge under the comforter.

Despite how much his body ached and longed for rest. His mind would not allow sleep to take hold. After a while he rolled over onto his back with a frustrated sigh and stared up at the ceiling fan. His bed was noticeably colder without Boo curled up next to him. His house was too quiet. It felt odd and out of place. Like something was missing aside from the obvious absence of man’s best friend.

He used to love the isolation being home provided after months of time spent on cramped tour buses and in shared hotel rooms, but now he was dreading the solitude.

Before his mind could ponder further he heard a familiar notification chime from his phone. He rolled over and grabbed the device off the nightstand, the light from the screen cutting through the darkness.

Olivia: New Text Message

He unlocked his phone and was greeted by a photo of Boo in a bathtub, hair spiked up in different directions by the shampoo lathered in his hair. The message underneath read:

Olivia: Someone knocked over the trashcan while I was taking a shower and got caught red pawed with peanut butter all over him. 🙃

The message made him smile in amusement. Boo was notorious for knocking over and digging through the garbage if you didn’t keep the trash can secured in some fashion. He had done it many times when Matt had originally moved into his own place before he finally got a heavy metal can with a push pedal lid that couldn’t be knocked over.

Before he could type out a reply another photo popped up. This one showed Boo sitting, with freshly dried fur, looking up at Olivia through the mirror on the countertop next to the sink in her bathroom. The reflection showed Olivia smiling down at her phone screen behind him as she snapped the picture, hair dryer up and ready in her opposite hand.

She was wearing an oversized t-shirt, which was practically a dress on her short frame. Not just any t-shirt. His t-shirt. His favorite Lord of the Rings t-shirt that he thought he accidentally lost.

But there is was, and fuck did she look good in it.

Olivia: Pupdate: Back to his clean handsome self! 😋

He zoomed in to see that she had gathered the pups hair up into a hair tie causing the free hair to stick up like a troll doll. His smile grew wider as he typed back a reply.

Matt: You gave my dog a ponytail? And is that my shirt? 🤨

Olivia: Yeah! You guys match now! And I don’t know what you’re talking about. Lol 🤭

Matt: 🙄

Olivia: He looks cute and you know it! 🖕

Matt: So what you're saying is you think I look cute? And stop trying to avoid the question. 🤔

Olivia: I say you match and that's all you got out of that? 🙄

Matt: You didn’t say no. 😏

Olivia: 🤐

Matt: I’m taking that as a yes until you say otherwise and I want my shirt back.

“Boo, I think your dad is flirting with me” Olivia said to the pup curled up under her arm, big brown eyes looking at her.

Albeit she was flirting back, but they were both arguably kinda bad at it.

Olivia: I plead the fifth and if you want it back you’ll have to come and take it.

Matt: That can be arranged.

Oh shit, maybe not as bad at it as she thought.

Olivia: You’d like that wouldn’t you?

Well, no turning back now. They’ve officially crossed into a territory outside of the realm of just friends.

Three little text dots popped up at the bottom and then went away.

Shit Shit Shit.

She felt doubt start to form like a weight in the pit of her stomach. Maybe she read the messages wrong. Maybe he wasn’t flirting?

Twenty minutes passed with no reply. She wanted to scream, and cry, and throw up all at the exact same time. Olivia was genuinely worried that she had just royally fucked up her friendship.

She was anxiously pacing around her room, waiting for Matt to reply, when she heard her doorbell ring from downstairs. She looked over at the clock on her nightstand. It read 11:47pm.

Boo let out a growl at the new noise. She tried to soothe the dog before leaving him secured inside her bedroom and headed downstairs to see who the hell was ringing her doorbell in the middle of the night. She was mentally chastising herself for not investing in one of those ring doorbell cameras that she always said she was going to invest in when she moved in two years prior.

She stood on her tip toes and looked through the peephole. She let out a slight gasp by who she saw on the other side before quickly unlocking and opening the door. There on the other side of the threshold was Matt with a very serious look on his face, his brown eyes looked darker than usual. They both said nothing, a noticeable tension filled the air as she pulled the door open wider, allowing him room to step inside. She quickly closed the door behind him and re-secured the locks.

“Matt, wha…” she started to ask, turning around to face him.

“Shut up.” he interjected, stepping forward and connecting their lips in a searing kiss.

They stood like this for a moment, before he took another step and the cool wood of her front door against her back caused her to part her lips in a gasp, allowing his tongue to slip inside. His hands left her face and traveled down the seam of her shirt. His shirt. Before he reached behind her thighs and lifted her up, legs wrapping around his center, as he carried them over to the couch across the room.

That tension felt before snapped as hands found skin and clothing met the floor piece by piece. She didn’t have time to feel shy. The desire of it all was dizzying and they both craved more. He rolled her off his lap to where she laid across the couch and he began to plant kisses along her throat. Over her breast. Down her stomach. Watching her react with each touch as he made his way to her core.

He looked up at her as he pressed gentle kisses against her inner thigh, silently asking permission to continue. She nodded and he didn’t hesitate. Her hand quickly found its way into his hair as his tongue worked deeper. Her head snapped back into the couch pillow as he gently introduced his fingers to her folds, falling into a steady rhythm as his mouth flicked over her clit. She tried to move her hips to match his thrusts but he firmly held her in place by snaking his free arm around her thigh.

She let out a moan as she felt herself growing closer and closer to climax. The sounds of her moans and how she breathlessly whispered his name were like music and he was desperate to hear more. She looked down at him, his eyes borderline pitch black with lust. Their gaze remained locked as she felt her body coil tighter until it snapped and she screamed out his name in pleasure. Writhing beneath him as he continued to work his fingers in and out, while kissing the overstimulated bud.

The sound of her voice as she fell apart made his dick twitch. She whimpered slightly at the absence as he made his way back up her body and attaching her lips to his in another deep kiss. He pulled back and looked into her eyes, her pupils blown with ecstasy.

“Are you sure about this?” He said, seeking consent to continue.

She grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him into another breathtaking kiss.

“Fuck, yes.” She breathed against his lips.

She gripped his arms, nail leaving crescent moon indentions on the skin as he pushed inside of her. Sweat began to pool at the small of his back as she rolled her hips up to meet him, their bodies falling into a steady rhythm.

He placed his forehead against hers, eyes locked as he thrusts harder, deeper. Both chasing their high together. Olivia's eyes flutter closed as the pleasure builds closer and closer.

“Look at me!” Matt demands. God the way he said that unlocked something in her.

Her eyes snap back open to meet his. He picks up his pace with a grunt, alternating between deep full hilt thrusts and shallow ones that leaves her needing more.

“Fuck, Liv, you’re doing so good for me.” He praises between his own moans.

Her hands snake deeper into his mane of hair as they push closer and closer to the breaking point. He tries to hide his moan in another deep kiss.

“Matt….” She whines, “so close..”

“That’s it, babygirl.” He praises, “cum for me, let me hear that pretty voice.”

She cried out his name in pleasure, star bursts dotting in her vision as he continued to fuck her through her orgasm. She writhed with overstimulation as he chased his own climax shortly after. He collapsed on her chest, both of them trying to calm their ragged breathing.

Matt quickly got up and retrieved a wet washcloth from the half bath and cleaned both of them up before laying back down and pulling Olivia on top of him along with the decorative blanket that was draped over the back of the couch. She nestled her face into the crux of his neck, he rested his chin on top of her head.

“Matt?” Olivia asks, voice muffled by how she was laying.

“Yeah?”

“You’re still not getting the shirt back.” She says.

He lets out a laugh.

“Fair enough,” he replies, kissing her forehead, “It looks better on you anyways.”

#matt dierkes #matt dierkes smut #matt dierkes fanfic #matt dierkes x reader #bad omens #bad omens fanfic #matt dierkes x ofc #bad omens smut #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens cult #bad omens x reader #bad omens x ofc #badomens #badomenscult #matt dierkes fic #matt dierkes fanfiction #author: thatchickwiththecamera

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sapphos-corner · 6 months ago

Text

Rainy day//Sapphic Fiction reader x girlfriend one-shot ☆

Synopsis: You and your girlfriend are in your second year of college. You moved in together over the summer. It's late fall now, and you wakeup together on a rainy sunday and do your normal routine.

Contains: HEAVY fluff. Eating, hobbies, shower scene, movie night.

Notes: Both characters in this oneshot are over 18. Appearances for reader and gf aren't described so it's open to anyone 18+. There is no smut in this oneshot, just affection and quality time.

Word count: 1.4K

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

I open my heavy eyes and stretch my arms above my head. I yawn and look over to my right, seeing her scrolling through her phone next to me.

"Good morning." She says, smirking and putting her phone down. She reaches over and envelops me in a hug, squeezing gently.

"Did you sleep well?" I ask, my voice muffled through her sweater.

"Of course, I always sleep so good next to you. I was about to make some coffee, do you want some?"

I smile big and nod. She kisses my head and steps out of bed. I watch her as she walks away and admire her silhouette. Her legs are toned and smooth, she's wearing one of my oversized knitted sweaters.

I roll onto her pillow and hug it towards me. Our sunday routine is one of my favorite things in the entire world. I reach over to her nightstand and grab the remote. She returns with two full mugs, she looks so cute trying to balance the cups. I reach over and she carefully hands mine over.

"Thank you so much love."

She kisses my head and slips under the covers next to me. I press play on our current show.

The morning is spent with us snuggled up in each other's sweaters, drinking coffee, and laughing at our current show. Pausing every once in a while to debrief different events and plotlines.

For lunch, we heat up the leftover beef stew and homemade french bread that I made yesterday. I can't help but smile at the way she delicately pulls her bread apart and dips it into the soup. She always smiles as she chews, too.

"Your bread is legitimately award winning, I think I could actually live off of it."

She stands up from the table, grabbing my bowl for me and gifting me a kiss and a quick thank you before she washes the dishes.

When I get up, I walk over to her at the sink. Her sleeves are pushed up but I can see one falling down. I push it back up for her and hug her from behind, resting my head on her back. I can't help but tilt my head up and plant a kiss on the nape of her neck.

I grab our sketchbooks from the shelf in our bedroom, along with her watercolor marker set and my micron pens. I set them on the coffee table on our porch. I start up the heater and head back inside. I pour us some glasses of bubbly peach wine, making sure to grab a blanket and her speaker on the way back out.

She meets me outside moments later, snuggling up next to me under the blanket. She grabs her sketchbook and markers, immediately starting to fill a page with a variety of blues and purples.

"Feeling inspired?"

She looks up and smirks. "Yeah actually, the rain is kinda like...my muse or something..." She scrunches up her face and I cringe-laugh.

"I..I hated that."

She chuckles "I know, but seriously I don't know what it is, I'm just in the right mood to make something I guess. I don't even really know what I'm wanting to do yet, I'm just CRUSHING on the blue-purple color combo recently."

I lean over and kiss her

"What was that for?"

"Just couldn't help it."

Her cheeks flush and she looks down, smiling shyly. She grabs my hand and runs her thumb over my knuckles.

"I love you so much dude."

"I love you too."

She reaches forward and grabs her speaker. She connects her phone and puts on her ambient playlist.

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"You know what sounds like heaven right now?"

"hm?"

"A shower."

I perk up and start the clean up outside. She jumps up to help

"I got this, love. I'll meet you in there."

She smiles with her eyes and blows me a kiss as she steps inside. I get everything back in its places and head to the bathroom. I can hear her humming softly under the water, steam already rising and pouring out above the curtain.

I step in and admire her back for a moment. It's impossible to not notice the glow of her skin under the warm lighting. She has a mole on her right shoulder blade. She used to reach her hand back in an attempt to cover it, and it broke my heart. It's one of my favorite parts of her body, and everytime I get to see it my heart fills with gratitude at the fact that she doesn't try to hide it anymore.

I step forward and pull her close to me. I lean against the wall as she rests her head on my chest. I reach up for the shower head, pulling it up from the hook. I turn it to the softest setting and aim it towards the back of her head. I trail downwards and rub her back as the water hits her skin.

I put the head back in place and grab the shampoo. After lathering it in my hands I run my fingers through her hair and massage her scalp. I retrieve the shower head and wash the suds out, stroking her hair in the process. She wraps her arms around my waist and kisses the center of my chest.

She pops her head up and cups my face with her hands. She gives me a quick but meaningful peck.

"Your turn."

As she finishes washing the shampoo out of my hair, she gifts me a million little kisses across my collarbones. She pulls me into her chest and bear hugs me.

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I come out of our closet to find her lighting candles and opening the blinds. She switches off the main light, and turns on the lamp on her nightstand.

We slip back under the covers and pick up our current books. We sit and read for about an hour before she puts hers down and looks over at me.

"Are you hungry?"

"Yeah, a bit."

"How do you feel about some toasted sandwiches with that bread you made?"

"Mmmmm yes, absolutely."

She pops up and makes her way to the kitchen. I step out of bed and head out to the living room. I plop on the couch and pick a movie for us to watch while we eat.

She comes over to the couch with our plates. She runs back to the kitchen and comes back with some cups of blueberry lemonade for us.

The sandwich has pesto, tomato, spinach, salami, and melted mozzarella. The bread is toasted perfectly and she brought a family sized bag of baked cheddar & sour cream chips to pair with the sandwiches. I press play on 'our idiot brother,' the movie for tonight and we dig in.

Our idiot brother is one of my favorite movies, and she still hasn't seen it. I glance at her occasionally, watching her reaction to the 'adorkable,' heart-warming moments.

As the movie wraps up, I look over to see this absolute angel of a girl tearing up. She puffs out her bottom lip and looks over to me.

"That was so sweet I can barely even stand it."

"I can't believe you're crying. You're so baby."

She laughs through her nose but starts to cry for real, laughing out loud in between whimpers. She dives her head into my lap, her back rising and falling in unison with the sounds she makes.

I laugh alongside her and stroke her hair. I lean back and pull her up towards me by her hands. She lays on my chest while I put on the show we watched this morning.

It's hard to not be overcome with dread for the beginning of the week after a day like this one.

"I genuinely think I could spend the rest of my life right here."

"Me too."

We force ourselves up. I head to the kitchen with our plates and do the dishes while she goes to brush her teeth. After I finish up, I brush my teeth and meet her in our room.

I blow the candles out, shut the blinds and slip into bed. I inch my way over to her and lay on her chest. She reaches her hand under my shirt and rubs my back until I fall asleep.

#Lesbian #Fluff #wlw fluff #sapphic fiction #oc oneshot

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random-thot-generator · 2 years ago

Text

Don’t Leave Me Hangin’

MANDO x FEM READER

Summary: Reader gets stuck aloft in one of the Kom’rik’s cargo nets and has to call out to Mando for help. Filthy Mando smut ensues.

Warnings: explicit language, swearing, explicit sexual content, porn without plot, well, maybe a tiny little hint of plot, oral- f receiving, PiV, squirting, cum play(?), it’s messy- nuff said, Kom’rik sex, improper use of a cargo net, reader is an idiot who should think things through, Mando is an opportunist, no use of Y/N, maybe? bondage - Mando doesn’t help her out of the net like- immediately, but reader ain’t complainin’

(N/A: The brain fog has FINALLY lifted, and I wanted to write about my most recent random filthy thot. This is the result. It’s a long-ish, smutty one shot. Reader & Mando are in a situationship - friends-with-benefits type deal. I’m picturing like a live-in nanny/housekeeper kind of thing, but I don’t think I ever specified. This is post-season 3, and Mando’s living his best life on Nevarro. He and reader are in a Kom’rik, because I need room for my smut to flourish, and I didn’t want to resurrect the poor old Razor Crest from the ashes. If I missed any tags, let me know. And I hope you enjoy.)

Word Count: 4280

You really should have thought this through better.

That was your first thought after the cargo net stopped swinging, and you regained a modicum of composure. You winced at the sound of the net’s straps creaking under the strain as you tried to shift your weight and then froze. You remained completely motionless, afraid to even breathe, for several more moments.

“Shit...” you whispered in a quaking voice, peering down at the floor of the cargo hold several meters below you. You then glanced up at the winch mechanism above your head, praying it held. How in the hell were you going to get yourself out of this?

It had seemed like such a good plan at the time. You had just stepped out of the Kom’rik’s small ‘fresher, having showered and changed into your sleep shirt before bed, when you’d felt the ship drop out of hyperspace with a small lurch. You heard something clatter in the cargo hold below and blew out a tired sigh, knowing it was probably nothing but also knowing you wouldn’t be able to rest until you checked it out.

Grumbling under your breath, you had climbed down into the hold. Only the emergency lights were on, the ceiling and corners hidden in shadow, but you spotted something lying near a tier of shelves attached to the hull’s interior wall. It was one of the kid’s favorite cookies, the teal ones with the creme filling. Peering up into the gloom, you spied an opened foil sleeve of cookies perched on the edge of the highest shelf.

“How the hell did he even get up there?” you said aloud, shaking your head. Jedi training aside, the kid was far too much like his dad, a little risk-taker. You heaved a sigh, with no small amount of exasperation.

Stars only knew what else he had left up there. Come to think of it, you had given him your datapad earlier to watch cartoons and hadn’t seen it since. Sighing in frustration, you began looking for a way to reach the top shelf. The propulsor lift was still charging, so that was a no-go, and you didn’t see a ladder of any sort that wasn’t attached to the ship already.

And then you had spied the cargo net.

It was dangling by its hooks from a mechanized winch and pulley system attached to the ceiling. It was used to keep extra containers suspended above the floor to free up space, its track running the entire circuit of the area for maneuverability and convenience. Designed to hold several hundred kilograms, you were certain it could support your own weight. You could use it to lift yourself up to the shelf, retrieve whatever was up there and then lower yourself back to the ground. Easy peasy, jogan squeezy.

Detaching the control pad for the winch from the wall, you climbed inside the net, lacing an arm through the holes for a better grip, and then planted your bare feet on the cross sections of the heavy straps. It was a bit shaky at first, but once you gained your balance, you quickly ascended until you were at eye level with the top shelf. Tucking the control pad under your chin, you reached up to feel your datapad under your fingertips and sniffed in amusement. You’d have to give Grogu a good talking-to in the morning, but for now you at least had your datapad back. Slipping it and the sleeve of cookies off the shelf, you shuffled the objects around, your grip on the net slackening.

It was then that the Kom’rik made another jump into hyperspace, making the ship jolt with the transition. You shrieked when the net began to swing wildly, feet slipping out from under you as you let go of everything in your hands to hang on for dear life. Panting for breath, heart thundering in your chest, you clung like a monkey-lizard to the straps and prayed the net didn’t break.

So, there you were, hanging above the hold like a piece over-ripe fruit, arms and legs entangled in the net with no way down, because, of course, you had dropped the winch’s control pad when you dropped everything else. You could see it lying on the floor below you, right next to the broken casing of your datapad.

“Shit!” you repeated, leaning your forehead against the straps and huffing out an angry breath. Could this situation get any worse, you wondered. You’d have to yell for Mando to come get you down, which you weren’t looking forward to, but who knew how long it would take before he even came back this way? What if decided to just sleep in the cockpit? Would you end up hanging there all night?

The thought made your awkward position in the net feel even more uncomfortable. Your feet had slipped through the holes, so your legs were now dangling under you, the straps cutting into the tender meat of your thighs. One of your arms was still threaded through the net while the other one was pinned close to your side. You could feel the cold air of the hold settling into your bones and making you shiver, the thin material of the tunic doing little to stave off the chill.

You knew that the longer you hung there, the colder you were going to get, the number your limbs were going to grow. Your feet were already stinging and your teeth chattering. There was no help for it. You had to call for Mando.

“MANDO!!!”

Your voice bounced back at you, making your flinch. Holding your breath, you waited to hear his boots thudding against the metal floor overhead, but nothing. He hadn’t heard you.

“MAANN-DDOO! HEEELP!”

You waited. Still nothing.

Oh, stars, maybe he had fallen asleep in the cockpit. after all. With the door sealed, he would never hear you. Panic began to creep in, shortening your breath as it constricted your lungs.

“MANDO! PLEASE! I’M STUCK IN THE HOLD! MAN-DOO!!!”

“What the hell are you doing?”

You heard his voice coming through the ship’s comm system and could have cried in relief. You’d forgotten the cams located throughout the ship. Stars, he’d probably been watching you this whole time. You were never in danger.

“I... I’m stuck, Mando.”

A gravelly bark echoed in the hold before turning to static. Great. He was laughing at you. “Obviously. Listen, I need to recheck the coordinates in navi and set the autopilot, then I’ll come get you down. Just, uh, hang tight,” he drawled, another garbled sound slipping out of his vocoder.

You bit your tongue to keep from saying something you might regret. You were in no position to taunt or snark back at him right now. “Fine,” you mumbled, and slumped into the net.

It was only a few minutes before the sound of his heavy boots were thudding across the metal floor above you, his footsteps music to your ears. You heard the clang of his armor hitting against the ladder before he slid down into view, feet landing with a solid thump in the hold. He approached at a leisurely pace, seemingly in no hurry, then stopped to stare up at you. His helmet tilted back, black visor glinting in the low light. Planting his hands on his hips, he tipped his head, first to one side and then to the other.

“M-Mando? What’re you doing? Can you get me down now, please?”

Mando hummed, his stance shifting. His arms dropped down to his sides, hands curling into fists. “You must be getting pretty cold, huh?”

You bunched your brows up in consternation. “Um... yeah? It’s fr-freezing down here.”

He nodded slowly, keeping his visor trained on you. “Hmm. Thought so. You’re not wearing anything but my old tunic. It’s not covering much. Is it?”

You quirked a brow at the change in his voice. His smooth baritone had dropped an octave or three, and it had a distinctive husk to it now. His tone was the one he used when the two of you were alone with the lights off and he was taking you apart, dark and sinfully seductive. It made you squirm despite your precarious position, and the net began to slowly sway back and forth. The edge of a strap slid into the crease where your thigh met your hip, and you felt your lower lips part. A low groan issued from his vocoder. Your mouth fell open.

Sweet Maker, your pussy was on full display for him. You hadn’t bothered with underwear after your shower, planning on putting on a clean pair once you got back to your sleeping quarters. Heat surged through your body, both from embarrassment and unexpected arousal.

“Mando...” Your voice sounded so small and breathy in the cavernous space.

“I can see everything, pretty girl,” he told you, taking an unconscious step closer. He was almost directly under you now, peering straight up at your exposed sex. Mortified, you felt the slow trickle of your arousal easing out of your channel. You weren’t dripping, not yet, but the thought of him standing beneath you, staring at your most vulnerable parts had your breath panting out in little puffs. “You... Are you going to... get me down, now?”

You heard the back of his gauntlet scrape the metal floor as he picked up the control pad for the winch. His breath was rasping through his vocoder, the sound of leather creaking as he moved underneath you. You felt the winch catch and then begin to whir as the net began to lower back to the floor.

“Thank the stars,” you whispered, anxious to be back on solid ground again.

You didn’t quite make it, though. You were still a few meters above the floor when the winch came to a sudden stop, leaving you to sway like the pendulum of a run-down clock. “M-Mando?”

“Look so pretty like this, sweet girl,” he murmured below you, and you felt his gloved fingers trail across the back of your thigh. You gasped at the contact. “Close your eyes,” he husked out, voice gone to gravel.

You didn’t even bother to ask why, just snapped your eyes shut and held your breath, waiting. You heard the slap of leather on the floor, guessing it must be his gloves he’d just taken off, and then you felt his bare fingers tracing the straps that dug into your thighs. His fingertips grazed along the edge where the strap met the skin, the sensation making you tense as heat spiraled in your belly, diffusing through your pelvis to spread in a hot rush of slick that trickled out to cool along the petals of your open folds.

“Oh, mesh’la,” Mando cooed, dark and low. “You’re dripping for me, pretty girl.”

A whine escaped your lips, breath catching in your throat as you felt his fingers slide through your arousal, gathering your essence on his fingertips. There was the pneumatic hiss of air as his helmet disengaged and then the ring of beskar ricocheted around the hold as he dropped it to the floor. You could hear the lewd, wet noises he made as he suckled his own fingers, moaning at the taste of you.

“Don’t move, baby girl.”

“Oh, Maker...” you whimpered in a quaking whisper.

You could feel your walls clenching in anticipation. Mando had never used his mouth on you before, said he’d never gone down on anyone before, but as the winch whirred back into motion only to grind to a stop again a moment later, you guessed you were about to find out if this would be his first time.

When you felt his hair tickle the backs of your thighs, an eruptive shudder passed through your entire body. When his nose grazed over your clit, you jolted in the confines of the straps hard enough to send the net swaying, but he caught you and brought you back to center.

“Sh-shh... Easy, baby girl. I got you...” He paused, sniffed. “Fuck, you smell so good,” he hissed out in a rush, and you heard him inhale, could feel his nose right at your parted lips. It was so filthy, so obscene, what he was doing, but it made you quiver with lust, just the same.

His hands came up to grip your ankles, holding you in place. “That’s better,” he murmured, hot breath gusting over your damp folds, eliciting another shiver from you. “Let me hear you, pretty girl. Want to know how good I’m making you feel. Okay?”

You nodded your head furiously, swallowing in an attempt to bring a bit of moisture back into your parched mouth. “Y-Yeah. Okay, Mando.” You didn’t even care that it came out as a whine.

The first touch of his tongue had you choking on air, hips stuttering, not sure whether to rock forward or away from the lapping muscle, but his strong hands held you fast, not letting your squirm away. He dragged his tongue in a slow, hot line from your entrance to your clit, and you moaned like a porn star. You could feel his cheeks bunch up as he grinned at your reaction, and then he flicked his tongue over your pulsing clit again, pulling a sputtering,” Ha-aaa-aaah!” from your gaping mouth.

“You like it when I do that?” he purred lowly into your folds. “What about when I do this?” He enveloped the sensitive bud with his lips, tongue flickering over it with feather-light touches, making you writhe and grind against his mouth. He groaned, then suctioned his lips around it and sucked, pressing his tongue firmly against it. Your plaintive wail echoed throughout the ship.

“Fuck me...” he moaned, panting for breath, his voice shaking. He was completely wrecked. With a desperate snarl, he dove back in with a vengeance, tongue laving your inner folds, twirling around your entrance, lapping at your juices before kissing and sucking at your puffy, parted lips. He was devouring you whole, winding the coil in your core into a taut vibrating spring of tension. Your thighs were shaking uncontrollably, your breaths wheezing out of your lungs in desperate pants.

“Mando! Mando, I...”

You couldn’t even voice a coherent thought, couldn’t tell him what was about to happen, but he seemed to understand, nevertheless. His fingers slid along your pulsing folds to catch at the rim of your entrance, circling it once before slipping inside. Your walls immediately clamped onto the digits, muscles undulating to pull them deeper. He growled at the feeling and latched onto your clit again crooking his fingers in a come-hither motion, the strokes sharp and quick as they tapped out a devastating tattoo against the spongy membrane of your G-spot.

The world went white behind your pinched eyelids, and you weren’t even aware of the choked scream that tore out of your throat as you were blindsided by your orgasm. The spring in your core gave way with a snap and warmth flooded from your center to gush out around his fingers and over his arm, splattering his lower face, cowl and chest plate.

“Ha!” he crowed. “That’s it! Fuck yes!”

You were barely hanging on, your very bones liquefied as you twitched and groaned with each consecutive pulse of your climax. If you had oozed out through the holes in the net to pool at his feet, you wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised.

“So fuckin’ good, for me. Look at that. Fuck, I need — nngh!”

You heard the motor of the winch whir back into life, then felt the cold sensation of the floor touch the bottom of your feet. You couldn’t have held up your own weight if your life depended on it, however, and so folded up with the netting as it came to rest on the floor. Strong hands lifted you out the mess of straps, hands moving over you, manipulating you as he whispered feverish words in Mando’a like some fervent benediction.

You felt your back come to rest on top of the netting, the worn fabric of his cape spread out beneath you to serve as a barrier against the rough material. You had yet to open your eyes, jaw slack as you floated somewhere high above your physical body in a state of pure bliss.

Mando placed his calloused hand over your eyes, unwilling to test fate more than he already had. He felt crazed, rabid with lust, his only desire to be buried balls-deep in your cunt.

“Need to feel you, sweet girl,” he gasped at your ear, his breath stuttering against your neck. “Please, I need — “

“Yes! Stars, please, Mando. Want to feel you inside me. Do it...”

He whimpered as he lifted himself away long enough to scrabble at the closure of his pants, shoving them down with his underwear to the top of his thigh plates, a frustrating exercise to complete one-handed. When his cock sprang free of its confines, he moaned in relief, pumping it roughly a couple of times as he spread his leaking precrum over the head with his thumb. With a grunt, he fell between your thighs, notching himself at your entrance, inhaling a deep breath before he sank into your greedy, grasping cunt with an audible squelch.

“Fuuuckin’ hellll...” he moaned out as he slid inside your fluttering walls, grunting again when he felt them collapse around his cock and seize it in a vice grip. It was a struggle to draw himself back, the sensation making his balls draw up tight against his body. “Too good... too tight... Gonna make me cum...” he mumbled under his breath, fighting off his orgasm. When he had withdrawn a about halfway, he couldn’t stand it anymore and plunged back in, thrusting hard enough to shift the netting beneath you.

You sobbed, the feeling of being so full overwhelming, your shaking legs coming up to wrap around his hips, ankles locking over the flexing muscles of his ass. He was driving into you with abandon, the toes of his boots squeaking on the floor to find purchase, bracing his body against yours. His other arm he shoved under your back, fingers hooking over your shoulder to pull you down on his cock to meet each hard thrust. He was growling, muttering curses in multiple languages, hissing as you clenched and pulsed around him.

“Ah, fuck, sweet girl, I’m gonna — Shit! Fuck, baby, where do you want — “

“Inside... Want to feel you cum in me...” you moaned out, another orgasm rising like a massive wave in your core. “Ah, fuck!” you whined.

Your words snapped that last thread of control he had, and he surged forward, thrusting in wild, arhythmic strokes that sent you careening over the edge. Your climax washed over you like a euphoric wave, slow and liquid, a golden warmth that engulfed your lower half before spreading like molten honey.

Mando could feel your walls clamp down and spasm, milking his cock, drawing him in deeper. He threw his head back and came with a bellow, a primal, jagged roar of triumph. His chest lifted as his back arched, his cock exploding inside your walls, pumping ribbons of his thick seed deep into your hungry cunt.

He barely managed to throw an arm out to catch himself before falling forward. He was trembling above you. and when his elbow buckled, his head fell to your chest. His nose was smooshed into the side of your breast, his panting breaths teasing the sensitive bud of your nipple into a hard little nub beneath the thin material of his tunic. He gave a dazed grin at the sight, wishing he had the energy to take it in his mouth, but he wasn’t sure he could even lift his head yet.

“Stars, pretty girl. I think you’ve killed me.”

A breathless wheeze of laughter burst out of your chest, and you reached up to pull down the hand now splayed limp over your face to your lips. You left a lingering kiss in the palm as you crooked your other arm over your eyes, just so the temptation to peek wouldn’t get the best of you. You felt him lift his head with reluctance, his weight shifting, before his lips pressed to yours in a sweet, chaste kiss.

“You alright? I know I went pretty hard this time. I didn’t mean to lose it like that, but — “

Your hand came up to touch his face, landing on his neck instead. You slid it upward to cup his jaw, the feel of his patchy beard against your palm endearing. “Don’t you dare apologize,” you told him and drew him down for another kiss. “It was perfect. The best I’ve ever had,” you whispered against his lips.

He sighed, smiling against your mouth in relief and pleasure. When he shifted again, he saw you grimace. “Did I hurt you, sweet girl?” he rushed to ask, lifting his weight off you.

You giggled and shook your head. “No, it’s not that. There’s something cold and sticky all over your chest plate. It feels... icky.”

He glanced down to see your release from earlier smeared over his beskar, and he chuckled, low and dirty. “That’s your fault,” he teased. “You drowned me when you came the first time.”

Your mouth dropped open and, if not for his hand coming down to hold your arm in place, you would have jerked it away from your eyes to stare at him in shock. “I did not!” you gasped. mortified.

“Oh, you did, pretty girl,” he crooned. “I want to make you do it again.”

“What? N-Now?!”

A full-on laugh rumbled out of his chest this time. “No, sweet girl. As much as I’d love to, I don’t either one of us is going to be able to go another round after that last one.”

“Oh, thank the Maker,” you blurted out, and then winced. “Sorry. I didn’t mean —”

He sniffed in amusement and pecked you on the lips. “I know what you meant, mesh’la.” Sitting back on his knees, he rubbed at his face, grinning at the sticky feel of your spend drying in his mustache. He was positively covered in your cum, and he fucking loved it. His poor cock gave a valiant twitch before he tucked it back into his pants and stood. “C’mon, sweet girl. Let’s get in the shower.” He retrieved his helmet, slipping it back on before bending to take you by the hand.

You groaned. “Just lemme sleep here. Can’t move right now.”

“You’ll freeze down here,” he chided you. “Now come on. I’ll help you.”

You whined as he hauled you onto your feet, and you staggered on your shaking legs. He shook his head and turned his back to you, bending his knees slightly. “Hop on. I’ll carry you up the ladder. Otherwise, we will be down here all night.”

You made a face at him, but wrapped your arms around his neck anyway, making a weak hop to get onto his back. Grasping your thighs, he hitched you up a little higher and stood, then trudged towards the ladder at the opposite end of the hold.

“Oh, stars,” you moaned out behind him, dropping your forehead to his back. “Do you think we woke Grogu? We were, uh... ahem... We were, you know, a little loud,” you whispered.

“Well, the ship’s still flying, and I didn’t hear anything break while we were down here, so I’m going to say no.”

You giggled. “He’s gonna get it tomorrow morning,” you vowed. “He was the reason I got caught up in that stupid net in the first place. He somehow managed to get on that top shelf with a whole sleeve of cookies and my datapad.” You paused, moaned again. “Shit. My datapad. It broke when I dropped it.”

“Don’t worry, mesh’la. We’ll get you another one, and I’ll talk to Grogu myself tomorrow morning, right after breakfast. Okay?”

You sighed, a little grin tugging at your lips. “Okay.” You heaved a sigh, tightening your grip when Mando started to climb up the ladder. “I know one thing. I’m burning that stupid net when we get back to Nevarro.”

Mando huffed and shook his head. “Like hell you are. We’re bringing that home with us. It’s going up in the bedroom, right above the bed.”

You gasped in shock, rearing your head back. “Mando!”

His rumbling chuckle bounced off the metal walls of the ship, and a warmth like the sun bloomed in your chest as a smile as big as the Dune Sea spread across your face.

“Okay, fine. We’ll discuss the cargo net later. But right now, I want a shower.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Mando purred, and you could hear the grin in his voice. Taking your hand, he led you into the ‘fresher.

Despite Mando’s earlier doubts, you found out that you both did indeed have another round left in you.

(End notes: Just wanted to mention @saradika because she created the dividers and banners I’m using. She makes them for free. You can check out her masterlist on her blog. Her fics are *chef’s kiss* too.)

#din djarin x fem reader #mando x fem reader #din x fem reader #mandalorian x fem reader #din djarin x reader #mando x reader #din x reader #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian smut #mando smut #din djarin smut #mando fic #mandalorian fanfic

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lincolndjarin · 1 year ago

Text

Best Kept Secret

chapter eighteen : portrait of a man (RE-UPLOAD)

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 5.4k

summary : the mandalorian and reader do some reading

warnings, etc. : language, mentions of sex

A/N : i had to change accounts so this is a re-upload of my ongoing fic bks!!

It’s deliciously warm when you wake. You can feel his heartbeat and you can feel the soft traces of sunlight dancing along your back. You stretch in his arms slightly but freeze up as you feel him nuzzle his chin into your hair, planting a kiss against your hairline.

His helmet is still off.

And the room is completely illuminated by the sunrise.

He seems to sense your hesitancy and after some adjustment his face is concealed once more as you gaze up at him.

“Sorry sarad, I must have fallen asleep without it on.” His voice is gravelly and thick with sleep as he looks down at you. He’s acting like it wouldn’t be the end of the world if you accidentally saw.

It might very well be.

You know his creed is precious to him, even if he says he is an apostate. You don’t want him to break it just for you and end up regretting it later.

“I don’t want to see until I’m allowed to.” That doesn’t really make sense and you know it. “Will I ever be allowed to? How does that work?” He sits up as you speak, stretching his arms above his head.

“I’ll explain it another time, right now I need to get you back to your room before someone realizes you're gone.” He’s crawled to the edge of the bed and he’s already pulling his boots on.

Oh yeah.

It was easy to fall into a fantasy of staying here with him. For a moment there you had completely forgotten that you were married, and expected in other places. You stand looking for your dress as he attaches his armor.

“Don’t change yet, it’ll be easier to sneak you back in if you aren’t wearing a shimmery gown.” He’s so quick with it, in the time it takes you to even find your gown he’s completely done getting ready. “Do you have everything?” He turns to face you as he takes the dress from you and throws it over his arm.

Your eyes dart to the shelf.

Your knife is up there.

He chuckles when he catches your line of sight.

“Not gonna happen, princess. Let’s go.” He takes your hand and hastily drags you out of the cabin. In the morning light you can see what he had been carrying you over last night.

The cabin was built partially on top of the lake. It must be a pain having to carefully step over all of the water but he doesn’t seem to mind as he scoops you into his arms and looks to be contemplating something.

“Is your bedroom window unlocked?”

That’s an odd question. But you know it is, you’re several floors up so you never lock it.

“Yes, why?”

“No reason.” You can hear a grin on his face.

He starts walking, not really caring if he steps into the water as he carries you towards the castle. Once you're through the gardens and past the forest trail he adjusts his cowl to cover your face. You rest your head against his chest as he makes his way towards what you assume to be the servant's entrance. But you never hear a door open, instead he leans down to whisper to you.

“Keep your eyes closed.”

Is he about to take off his helmet in broad daylight?

You don’t get a chance to question it as you shut your eyes and you feel the cowl ripped from your face, there’s an unfamiliar rush of air against your skin and the sound of a click and a creak.

“You can open them now.” He whispers again, you aren’t sure what you expect to see when you open your eyes but it certainly isn’t him standing on the outside of your window sill, balancing you in his arms.

You know immediately that it’s a mistake as you look down and find yourself several stories off the ground.

“Maker! What is wrong with you!” You cling to him tighter but he simply laughs as he peels you off of him to set you inside.

“Sorry, hand me your clothes.” There’s a sudden urgency in his voice that keeps you from arguing, you strip to your undergarments and toss him the things you borrowed, he doesn’t hesitate to throw your dress onto the floor. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.” You’re left staring dumbfounded as he jumps off the ledge at the same moment your door swings open and Elaine’s voice fills the room.

“I’m telling you, we don’t have to knock, she isn’t here, we’ll just wait for h-“ She stops and stares at you with wide eyes and your face gets hot at the implications of her words.

“Good morning girls.” You stammer out as they both look surprised to see you.

“Apologies for not knocking my lady.” Elaine bows as she says it, cocking an eyebrow in your direction but you don’t give her a reaction as you simply walk to the mirror to be prepped.

They seem relieved that you don’t have anything to say and you’re relieved that Elaine doesn’t press further as they begin to dress you. The gown Lysa chooses for today is a soft gray color, the fabric shimmers in the light and it sort of reminds you of the Mandalorian’s armor.

Nobody seems to have anything to say to each other this morning but you truly don’t mind. In a few minutes you’ll get to see him again.

And things are okay now.

Right?

You’ve established a mutual want.

But what does that mean?

Shit.

You hadn’t really talked about that. But that shouldn’t matter, he had practically confessed his love, he had given you his name.

You need to talk about it.

But he never wants to talk about it.

This time has to be different though, things are good.

It has to be different.

You don’t even realize they’ve finished until Elaine clears her throat.

“Kriff, sorry, thank you girls, you’ve done wonderful work as always.” It’s true. As you look up at yourself in the mirror to take in another amazing job done by them. You can’t even tell that you were being carried through the forest less than an hour ago.

“Thank you, my lady, shoes?” Lysa holds up a pair of flats and you nod, taking a seat at the vanity and hiking your skirt up a bit.

Shit.

You’re still wearing his socks.

In your rush you must have forgotten about them.

She stares for only a moment, her eyes darting up to your face before she removes them, slipping on your flats. You can tell by the way her eyebrows raise ever so slightly that she sees the dirt on the soles of your feet from your barefoot walk in the gardens last night, but thankfully she says nothing. After a beat of silence you cough awkwardly.

“Thank you girls, that will be all.” They nod as they both take their leave. You give them time to make their way down the hall before you grab your journal and some pens, as you throw the door open he’s there just like always. He doesn’t look like someone who had flown you up to your window this morning, he looks exactly the same as always. There’s no sense in concealing the smile on your face as you stare at him.

“Library?” You ask as he nods, you begin your trek and he still stands behind you but closer than ever before, just a step or two back. “Can we talk today?”

“Of course, princess.” A wave of relief washes over you as he says it. This might be the first time he’s ever had a positive reaction to that question. You walk in a happy silence until you arrive. Today you do not hesitate to sit in the nook, no longer haunted by the memories of what’s transpired there.

He stands sort of bashfully, looking at you and then at a few chairs nearby.

This is why you need to talk.

It’s things like this, your relationship is so vaguely defined and in the cold light of day, just Din, doesn’t know where to sit.

You scootch over a bit and pat the space next to you.

“Sit with me?” You say softly to hopefully ease the anxiety that is apparent in his body language. He relaxes a bit as he takes a seat next to you, you fit like puzzle pieces, like the nook was made for the two of you to sit comfortably.

It’s an added bonus that it’s far enough into the shelves that you’ll hear anyone coming before they see you.

He leans back against the glass as you open your journal, uncapping a pen and lazily doodling. You can feel his gaze on the pages but you don’t mind.

“What did you want to talk about mesh’la?” He murmurs as he begins to trace his fingers along your back, drawing shapes into the fabric of your dress.

It shocks you a bit.

His blatant affection.

Nothing could have prepared you for him to act like this in the daylight.

Of course he had humored you in the markets, and when you had been “together” he had always been kind but now his voice had a certain devotion to it, and he touched you like he needed to do it to stay grounded.

He almost seems… clingy.

It makes your heart flutter.

“I guess I just wanted to talk about this,” You gesture at him with the pen. “us.”

He hums softly in agreement.

“Okay, what about us?” He tugs gently at one of the ribbons on your corset, not hard enough to pull it loose, just hard enough to grab your attention. You shoot a glare at him, there’s no actual fire behind it.

“I thought you said you’d be good?”

“And you said I could touch you a little.” As he says it you roll your eyes before turning back to your drawings. You’ve been sketching the same curved line. The hook of his nose you had felt last night. If he recognizes it he doesn’t say anything.

“Fine. What exactly are we?” He resumes his tracing as you say it, it feels like a juvenile question, it’s what you would always ask your boyfriends back on Hoth after a few weeks of screwing around, but he doesn’t seem bothered by it.

“What was it you called me in the gardens? Your lover? I could be that if that’s what you’d like me to be.” His fingers have moved to your shoulders now, the shapes on your pages have turned into rough outlines of what you remember his jaw is shaped like.

Lover feels too impersonal.

This is more than that.

He certainly isn’t your boyfriend, can you even have a boyfriend? Afterall you already have a husband.

Would Din want to be your husband someday?

Could Din be your husband someday? Kodo certainly wouldn’t just let you leave, the trade deals your family so desperately needed would be useless if you did. Is it too soon to be thinking such a thing? You have only just truly become emotionally involved but also you’ve spent every waking moment with him for several weeks at this point. And you’ve had sex.

Maker, why does this have to be so confusing?

“Is there maybe a Mando’a word for what we are?” You turn to look at him again.

He starts to say something but then he stops, seemingly changing his mind.

“How about kar’ta?”

“Kar’ta? What’s that mean?” You like the way the word feels in your mouth. His knuckles are dragging against your arm now.

“It means heart. You would be my heart and I would be yours.” His voice is warm and it feels like you’re sinking into his touches.

His heart.

You like that.

“My Kar’ta.” You say, looking down at your drawings, you have several mixed and matched faces, none of which seem to look right, you hold them up for him to see. “Do any of these look correct?”

He points to the one of the bottom left, the eyes are lopsided.

“That ones the closest, other than the eyes, none of the eyes are right.” You sigh, you already knew he would say that.

“They never are.” You flip the page and start drawing pairs of eyes. You’re silent for a few minutes, he continues tracing shapes into your back and you continue drawing, you eventually realize he’s mimicking your sketches.

You know what you want to tell him. It’s a strange pivot in conversation but you need him to know.

Your next words force themselves from your mouth. “I don’t love Kodo, I don’t even like him.” His movements stop, only for a second before continuing.

“I would hope not, I don’t know if you noticed but he’s a bit of a monster.”

“I know, I just wanted to say it. I just- I mean, I don’t think of myself as married to him, it’s more a title than anything else.” You hesitate for a moment. “And we don’t have sex. In case you were wondering.” You haven’t thought about that fact in a while.

Someday Kodo will want heirs.

It makes you shudder a bit.

Maybe Din will get you out of here before that happens.

He senses the tension you’re suddenly plagued with and he switches to just rubbing gentle circles against your back.

“Okay.” He speaks so quietly now.

“I don’t ever want to have sex with him.” You whisper, mostly to yourself.

It had always been an inevitable thing. A duty you had to fulfill. But that was before you knew who he was. Before you knew you had married a monster. And that was before Din, before your kar’ta.

“You don’t have to. I promise.”His voice is soothing but it does nothing to put you at ease.

It’s a promise he can’t keep.

But you don’t want to linger on this any longer so you nod, much to your chagrin he senses your hesitancy as he sits up.

“Hey, I mean it. If he so much as touches you again, I swear it will be the last time.”

“You can’t guarantee that Din.” He’s taking your sketchbook from you, setting it aside before holding your hands in his.

“He isn’t going to touch you. Ever again. I never should have let him in the first place.” His grip on your hand tightens ever so slightly as he recalls the memory, you can’t help but frown.

“I’m glad you let him, you wouldn’t be here right now if you hadn’t.”

That makes him go quiet.

You both know you’re right, if he had laid a finger on Kodo he would at the very least have been fired. Worst case scenario he’d be dead.

“He won’t touch you again.” He sounds firmer this time. “I’m sworn to you. No one gets to touch you unless you want them to, not even me.”

You want to believe that he could stop Kodo. That he could stop all six of his battle droids. It’ll be easier if you just let yourself believe it.

So for now you do.

You drop his hands and rest your head on his shoulder.

“Okay.” You mumble.

“Okay.” He tilts his helmet slightly to rest against your head.

You reach around to grab your book back. Opening to the page with the eyes.

“Which ones are right?” You point around the page. He analyzes them for a bit before taking the pen again, scribbling until he’s drawn messy but identifiable eyes.

“Like this.”

His drawing is crude but the eyes are nice. You carefully tear the outline of them out before placing them over the other drawing he had pointed out.

It almost looks right.

It almost suits the person you know.

He lets you stay leaning on his shoulder so you don’t bother moving as you flip to an empty page. You think for a few moments on what to draw.

The tiny toothbrush.

You think of the sketch of mismatched parts you now have of him and what you’ve been able to feel out and you subconsciously start drawing a child.

You give him Din’s nose, and dark curls. You don’t bother trying to copy his eyes, opting to instead give the little boy wide dark eyes. You scribble out several different versions of the child you’ve made up as he watches silently.

Eventually you stop and just stare at the page full of little faces staring up at you.

Does this boy exist somewhere out there?

It sort of seems that way, when you look at all the pieces of Din that don’t seem to make sense. The toothbrush, he had mentioned a kid at one point but hadn’t said much about it and now you know that he willingly showed his face to someone. Was it his child? Why did he have to say goodbye to his own child?

Can you imagine Din being a father? When you think of how well he takes care of himself it makes you worry a bit for any child in his care but then you think of how well he takes care of you.

Selflessly.

He’s probably a good father. That must be where his protective nature comes from.

His laughter breaks you out of your trance and he points to one of the drawings, the boy in that one has the largest eyes, and the pupils take up nearly the entirety of them.

“You got his eyes right in that one.” He says as he chuckles.

“What?” You stammer out.

His eyes.

“I assume you’re trying to figure out who he is? None of these are even close, but those eyes, those are his.”

Of course he knew what you were doing, nothing got past him.

You wait for more but that’s all he gives you.

You can wait longer, until he’s ready to talk about it. Based on the way he sighs you think that moment might be right now but he says something else instead.

“I don’t think I’ve apologized yet for what I said. Truly apologize.” You close the journal on your own this time before setting it down.

He’s talking about what he said.

“I was… bored. You were entertainment.”

He knows you haven’t simply forgotten about it. Afterall, how could you?

“It doesn’t excuse what I did, but I didn’t mean a word of it.”

You want to believe him terribly, but that nagging feeling in the back of your mind is persistent. A reminder that any moment he could decide to stop being Din, and go back to being nothing more than your shadow.

“Why did you say it then?”

You don’t want to have this conversation either. The last thing you want to do is relive those moments but you aren’t an idiot, your insecurities will eventually bubble up, it’s better to take care of this now before it grows into resentment. He’s leaning back again, out of your peripherals.

“I meant it, when I said that I ache.” Is he sitting like that so you can’t look at him? “None of what I’m about to say is a good enough reason to explain my actions, nothing ever could be. You control my every thought and decision, sarad. I suppose I just thought that it would be best if you hated me, that it would make the pain dull, instead it only served to make me realize that I cannot live without you.”

That’s one hell of a proclamation.

“You wanted me to hate you?” As you say it you feel Beskar rest against the back of your shoulder.

“For a while. It seemed like the least painful option. I deserved- deserve, your loathing. At first for feeling the way I did towards a married woman, a woman I was supposed to be protecting and instead was picturing naked.”

Hot. It’s hot in the library. It hasn’t been hot in the library for some time.

“And then I saw the two of you together. And I knew immediately that you did not feel an ounce of love for that thing you were forced to wed. At that point I simply needed you to hate me to soothe the ache that signified that you could never be mine.” He sighs, and there’s a moment of hesitation before you hear the hiss of air you’re becoming all too familiar with. You aren’t exactly sure what you expect, it definitely isn’t the feeling of several kisses being peppered along the curve of your shoulder but you certainly aren’t going to complain about it. “I did not know weakness before I met you, you have turned me from a man made of steel to one of glass.” His voice rings clear and unfiltered throughout the room.

He plants another kiss into your hair, there aren’t any traces of lust behind the action, just a pure adoration, he brushes a bit of your hair out of the way and for a moment you feel the bridge of his nose press against the back of your neck before he places one final, chaste kiss against your spine. When he speaks again his voice is modulated once more.

“I don’t want your forgiveness, I certainly haven’t earned it.” He finally leans forward so he’s back in your field of vision. “But I will. Someday I will be worthy of you, I promise.”

He already is. He always has been.

Will you ever get used to this? His genuine affections? It takes your breath away more than the sex did, the way he talks about you like you are not a woman, but a deity. The way he removes his helmet as if it doesn’t mean anything, just so he can feel you against his lips.

There’s no sense in telling him that’s all you needed to hear. You know him, he won’t accept that, he’s far too stubborn. So instead you opt to make things more lighthearted.

“How do you plan to make it up to me, my kar’ta?” As you say it you can visibly see some of the stress leave his body, thank the gods.

“I have plenty of ideas.” The way he says it makes your heart flutter and you nearly forget that he’s promised not to fuck you. “I was thinking I could take you to the library tomorrow.” You’d be lying if you said that didn’t sort of kill your buzz, considering where you’re currently sitting but he senses your reluctance and chuckles. “The big one, in the city, cyar’ika.”

“Oh.” You can’t help but laugh along with him now. “You know, you’re getting better at talking, about the important stuff that is.” You give him a smile.

“It’s easier when you don’t look at me.” He says it a bit abashedly.

“Why is that?”

“Before you I never felt like someone could see my face. Yet everytime you look at me it’s like I’m not wearing a helmet at all, like you’re staring right at me.” He takes your hand and brings your fingers to the bottom of the helmet, tilting his head down slightly so you can feel his lips as he kisses the pads of your fingers before withdrawing them.

Maker.

Yeah, you’re never gonna get used to that.

Eventually he gets up to find some books, bringing you a mystery romance novel, you wouldn’t normally pick it for yourself but the cover art is interesting enough to draw you in, he appears to have some kind of maintenance guide on ship engines, you have no idea how he reads that kind of thing. As he hands you the books he motions for you to stand, when you do so he sits in the nook horizontally, with his feet up on the cushions, his back leaning against one of the surrounding shelves, motioning for you to sit between his legs.

You want to protest that it won’t be comfortable for him but your resolve simply isn’t strong enough to resist as you crawl between his thighs, your back resting against his chest as you hand his literature to him. The nook isn’t really built for two people to sit like this, it’s a bit cramped but you couldn’t be more comfortable, you want to make sure he’s okay with this position but he’s already got his book open, held in one outstretched hand so you simply open yours, placing it on your bent knees.

It’s surprisingly good. You’ve always had a preference for campy, over the top romance books. The sort of books with shirtless men riding horses on the front. The more ridiculous the better. But you’re completely absorbed by the story you find yourself in, gasping every so often at the reveals.

It’s shocking once you realize you’ve already made it to the last chapter, you had completely forgotten you were lying against Din until you turn and see that he must have finished his book at some point because now he’s reading yours over your shoulder.

“Can we finish this before I take you to get your dinner?” He mumbles, leaning forward slightly.

There is a peace to this situation that you’re sure you’ve never known.

This is the kind of life you could have with him.

You can’t seem to find the words to respond, and the lump in your throat won’t let you make something up so you nod, and you lean your head back against his chest and continue where you left off.

You like the ending. Much to your surprise the story ended happily, you had even teared up a bit when you realized everything was going to work out for the love interests. You might let him pick books for you more often, as long as he lets you find him something less boring to read. There has to be at least one exciting book about ships in here.

If there isn’t, you’ll find him one tomorrow when you go to the city library.

He sits up, which of course means you also sit up. He lets you stand first, your legs are stiff from being in the same position for hours but you find your footing quickly. He seems to be having no issues as he’s putting the books back.

You’re waiting for him to take your hand so you can fetch dinner, the two of you standing in silence for a moment, when it hits you, you feel like an idiot.

He isn’t going to take your hand.

Because you’re leaving the library and someone could see.

You plaster on a strained smile before leaving, thankfully he says nothing about your hesitation as you begin walking towards the kitchens.

Leo is of course waiting for you by the entrance. (You’ve come to accept that he’s simply everywhere at this point.) And you do the same thing you always do, he asks what you’d like to eat, you tell him whatever they’ve cooked, he insists you can request anything you’d like, you insist you’d like what they’ve cooked.

The only difference this time is that you ask for seconds.

He disappears in a huff before swiftly returning with several sealed dishes, as always he hands them to Mando and not you.

✩

The two of you return to your chambers and when he steps inside you lock the door behind you.

“Sit.” You say it as sternly as possible. Like it’s an order. He sets the food on the floor before sitting with his legs crossed next to it. “You’re gonna eat, this is non-negotiable.”

He immediately begins to protest but you shush him.

“You don’t need to feed me anymore. I can take care of myself.” He starts trying to stand but you firmly plant your hands on his shoulders and push him back down.

“Clearly not, you didn’t eat once today, I’m sure of it.” You frown down at him.

“Neither did you.”

“That's because I was watching you! And now to make up for it I’m going to eat real food, not ration packs.”

He doesn’t budge, still staring at you blankly.

“Listen… if you do this, I’ll reward you.” You raise your eyebrows suggestively.

You hadn’t really planned to give in so soon but you’re only human, he had gotten you pretty fired up in the library today whether that was his intention or not.

And you certainly aren’t going to say it, but you miss being with him in that way.

“Are you trying to bribe me with sex?” The disbelief in his voice is apparent, you ignore it, dividing up the food, making sure his portion is considerably larger, they always give you too much food anyway.

“Is it working?” You set the plate in front of him, batting your eyelashes innocently. He coughs nervously, leaning back.

“No. I don’t want sex to be a currency with you, I want you to want it.” His voice is strained and you can’t help but smirk.

“That’s a shame, because you’re going to eat either way.” You stand, walking so you're behind him, sitting back to back, your plate in your lap.

“That’s a wild assumption, princess.” His voice is still modulated so you know he hasn’t made any attempts to listen.

“I thought you were trying to earn my forgiveness?” That shuts him up. He grumbles for a few moments before you hear a hiss and a clunk as he sets his helmet on the floor. “Thank you.”

“Don’t sound so smug, you can only use that reason so many times before I stop giving in.” He mumbles through a mouthful of food, it makes you grin.

“Speaking of your road to redemption, can I ask you any questions I want now?” You swallow a bite as you say it.

“Sure, I’m not going to guarantee an answer, but sure.”

“What was on the flower, the one I gave you for your birthday?” He groans the moment you ask it.

“Please don’t make me say it, I know you know.” He sounds terribly embarrassed but you’re simply furrowing your brow in confusion. Are you supposed to know? You think on it for a few minutes, chewing thoughtfully before your eyes go wide.

“Was that a piece of my nightie that you ripped the first time we-“

“Yes.”

Your face couldn’t possibly get any redder and your smile couldn’t possibly get any wider.

“I didn’t take you for the sentimental type.” You can’t help but tease, he’s so rarely flustered in lighthearted moments like this.

“There are plenty of things you don’t know about me.” You hum softly at his response. “I’d like it if you did know them.” He always has to have the upperhand, he can never just let you tease him without leaving you breathless.

“I’d like to know everything.”

“I’d tell you everything.” He sounds so sincere.

But he doesn’t sound ready.

“When you really want to.”

He’s quiet, briefly, and then he reaches back to set his empty plate down next to you, you aren’t even halfway done with yours. You turn around as he stands, you didn’t hear him put his helmet back on but there it is.

“It’s late princess, I need to go home.”

There’s undeniably disappointment on your face as you stand, following him to the door.

“You don’t want to stay? I’m pretty sure I owe you a reward.” You give him a hopeful smile and his glove covers your eyes, your heart is racing.

There’s that wonderful hiss of air. It’s quickly becoming your favorite sound in the world.

You’re practically vibrating with anticipation.

And then you feel a soft kiss on your forehead.

In an instant the glove is gone and the helmet is back in place as if it had never moved.

“Good night, sarad’ika.” You feel ridiculous as you pout at him.

“You can’t be serious.”

He chuckles as he opens the door.

“Are you really going to turn me down?” You reach past him to try and close it again but he holds it open, still laughing.

“Yes, I am. Tonight I am.” He’s got one foot out the door now.

“Din… I’m giving you permission, I swear, it’s fine.”

“I’m afraid it’s not gonna happen tonight, cyare”

For Maker’s sake you’re practically begging him.

“Then when?” As you ask he leans forward, just a tiny bit.

“When you really want to.”

And just like that he’s leaving, shutting the door behind him.

Cocky bastard.

I am no longer doing taglists so follow @lincolndjarinnotifs and turn on notifications to be notified when new chapters are posted !!

#lincolndjarin #the mandalorian #best kept secret #bks #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x you #din dijarin x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #RE UPLOAD

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rottenzombrainz · 1 month ago

Text

Virtual Intimacy (Rui x Reader)

Based off my silly headcannons for the ghouls!

Beginning notes;

Originally this wasn't gonna be an x reader, but plans change! things happen! And I couldn't pass up the opportunity of Rui fluff with a tinge of angst

I also realized this is my first tkdb x reader? Yay me!

sfw, GN Reader, Reader and Rui are dating, fluff,

You were scrolling aimlessly through WickChat when Rui, your beloved boyfriend, texted you.

Hey my little bunny 😘

"Bunny". That's what he called you. You used to think it was cheesey, but the name has grown on you.

You free to come over? I just had the greatest idea ✨

-An idea?

Yup yup! You'll have to come over and see! ❣️

You couldn't help but feel a little curious. Rui always knew exactly how to keep you hooked.

-I'll be over soon <3

Yay!!! See you soon, bunny

You smirked at your phone before turning it off and shoving it into your pocket and making your way out of your room.

Because of Rui's curse, the two of you couldn't be physically affectionate in any way, so you've come up with other ways to show your love. You usually change it up every month or so to keep things fresh.

Lately you've been giving him a new succulent every time you come over to Obscuary to see him. There was something kind of romantic about nurturing a plant and giving it to a loved one for them to care for. This time, you were going to give him your string-of-pearls plant. You almost felt a little bad, bombarding him with all these succulents, but the image of his bright smile washed away any doubt that they were a burden.

Before you knew it, you were at the front door of the gothic Obscuary mansion. You reach your hand outward to knock on the door, but it swings open before you can even lift your hand above your waist.

"Bunny! There you are!"

You're greeted by an enthusiastic Rui, smiling widely at you.

"Hey, Rui! I brought you another succulent- I hope you don't mind..."

You present Rui with a small pot, no bigger than the average person's hand, with the string-of-pearls rooted inside it. He takes great care not to touch you even with his gloved hands as he lifts the pot from you.

"Aw, thank you, bunny! You're such a sweetheart"

Rui holds the door open for you as you step into the victorian abode.

"C'mon, I need you to help me find the perfect spot for this little guy."

He gestures for you to follow him, leading you into his room. Rui scans over a long shelf filled with succulents, looking for the perfect spot for his new plant baby. You watch him with adoration as you crawl into his bed and hug one of his pillows. It's the closest thing you have to actually hugging him.

"So- about that 'great idea' you had..."

Rui turns his head towards you with a grin.

"I wanted you to play one of my favorite games with me!"

You cock your head as you squeeze the pillow tighter. He makes his way to his computer, logging in and booting up The Sims 4.

"I thought it'd be fun if we made each other in game! I'll go first, mkay?"

You nod along and pull up a chair beside him, trying to get as close as you can without putting yourself in danger. You watch as Rui quickly gets to work, making a sim in your image. His eyes dart around the catalog as he finds the perfect clothes for your virtual twin.

"What do you think of this, bunny? isn't it cute?"

"Eh... it's not really my style"

Rui pouts a little.

"You're right, my bad!"

He quickly clicks through each clothing tab, looking for the perfect outfit with an intense focus. You stare deeply into his concentrated magenta eyes. It's kind of adorable seeing him so passionate about something.

"You're... really into this, aren't you?"

"Of course! I wanna make sure I get every single detail of your beautiful self as accurately as possible!"

Rui smiles at you before pushing himself off the desk and rolling away in his chair.

"Bunny~! It's your turn to make me~!"

You scooch forward in your chair and grab hold of the mouse. It's still warm from Rui's touch. He watches you with adoration as you explore the UI of the game. You hesitantly begin molding the virtual avatar into the image of Rui, a little afraid that he wouldn't like your version of him. Every time you glance back over at him for reference, he gives you a smile or blows you a kiss.

"Sorry... I'm not as good at this game as you are..."

You apologize after finishing the digital clone. Rui happily pulls himself back in front of the desk as he looks at your work.

"Wow bunny! It looks just like me!"

With a weak smile, you watch as Rui skillfully clicks through text boxes and confirmation popups.

"What city do you think we should live in? San Myshuno? Maybe Willow Creek? Ooh how about De Sol Valley or Windenberg?"

You stare blankly at your boyfriend who's practically speaking gibberish to you.

"Let's.... just go with Willow Creek. It's a classic."

You nod along, still not understanding a thing.

"I usually build my own houses when I play, but I'm so super excited to play with you! So, pre-made lot it is!"

"Mmh-hm...okay"

It was obvious you felt completely out of your element, but Rui seemed to be enjoying your company regardless.

"You wanna decorate the house before we play?"

"It's fine as is. Besides, you look like you're gonna pass out from how restless you are to actually get into the game."

"Guilty~!! You know me so well, Bunny!"

You let out a little laugh at Rui's compliment. Your adorable boyfriend wastes no time before laughing with you.

"Mkay, this is what I wanted to show you so super badly!!"

You raise your eyebrows as Rui clicks away at more text bubbles.

"Ready? Ready?"

Not even waiting for your response, Rui clicks one last time before the digital avatars you made wrap their arms around each other in a tight hug. It obviously didn't make you feel any of the physical stimuli gained from hugging, but it was sweet to see yourself hugging your beloved boyfriend. It's something the both of you fantasize about often, but seeing it so vividly, even if it's just in a game, gives you both a warm tingling feeling of joy.

Rui looks at you eagerly with his bright charming smile.

"So? Did you like the surprise??"

You smile back at him while you squeeze your knee as if to squeeze his.

"I did."

It wasn't as groundbreaking or exciting as if you were actually able to hold him, but you could tell by Rui's expression that this was a big thing for him.

"Great!! 'Cus there's so much more we could do in the game!! We can kiss and cuddle and get married and have kids!! If you want, of course!"

Rui ecstatically beams, his smile like a bright light in the deep abyss of the ocean. His sweet and genuine grin warmed you right up like a ray of sunshine.

"I love you, Rui."

You say, just barely whispering. And somehow, his smile widens even more.

"I love you too, Bunny."

Ending Notes;

Woohoo!! (pun intended) I'm finally finished with this!!!

I feel like it's too short, especially with how long I spent on it... but that's how I feel about everything..... Anyways!! I hope you all enjoyed this little fic! Now that this is done, I'm gonna try and focus on finishing up the anon requests I got.

Speaking of requests... I am taking them! I work slowly, but I do work!!!

I wish all my adorable little humans happy holidays!! Zombie kisses for you all mwah mwah mwah!!!!

#tokyo debunker #tkdb #tdb #rui mizuki #tkdb rui #tkdb rui mizuki #tokyo debunker rui #tokyo debunker rui mizuki #rui x reader #rui mizuki x reader #tkdb fanfic #tokyo debunker fanfic #tokyo debunker fanfiction

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moonstruckme · 1 year ago

Note

Hiii! Maybe you can write something with reader having like 20 plants in her dorm. Like a plant mom!

Thanks for requesting :)

Eddie Munson x fem!reader ♡ 979 words

“This isn’t gonna work,” you scold, nudging the spout of your watering can carefully between leaves to the center of the pot. “I gave you the prime sun spot, and you’re still gonna wilt on me? That’s just ungrateful, Phin.”

There’s a knock on the door, and do a once-over of your room before going to meet Eddie at the door. He’d let you know he’d be coming by to pick up the flannel he’d lent you the other night (you’re disappointed you don’t get to keep it, though you haven’t let him know that), but he hasn’t been in your dorm before; you always wait outside when he’s supposed to be picking you up. Thankfully, you’d remembered to put away the folded laundry on your bed, and your space is looking decently tidy.

“Hey.” Your grin is already in place as you open the door, your dopamine centers responding to Eddie’s presence the same as they respond to the aroma of cookies in the oven or your favorite song coming on the radio.

“Hey, you.” Eddie’s smiling too, peering around you to see into your room. “Who’re you talking to?”

“No one.” You open the door all the way to show him, and Eddie’s eyes go wide enough to show white all the way around his irises. “Just Phin.”

“You…you have a fucking jungle in here.” Eddie’s gawping, seeming unable to focus on any one plant as his gaze skims your room. You suppose it probably would look like a bit much if you weren’t used to it. You’ve got greenery lining your windowsill, pots taking up half your desk, vines drooping down from your shelves. You’ve had to put a few on the floor too, since the only other surfaces in the room don’t get enough sun. All in all, it’s a lot of green in not a ton of space. Eddie seems at a loss for words, but then his eyebrows twitch towards each other and he blinks. “Wait, who’s Phin?”

“Phineas,” you explain, gently touching the leaf of your baby pothos. You’d propagated him from a giant one you’ve had for years, but he’s struggling a bit as he roots in his new soil.

Eddie’s looking at you like you’re a marvel now too. “They have names? You talk to them?”

“Of course they have names. And talking is supposed to help them grow.” You soften your voice just slightly, throwing a cautious look at Dorothy over on your shelf. “Though I sometimes wonder if some of them are more introverted than others. Some of my spider plants don’t seem to appreciate it.”

Eddie grins in that familiar toothy way that makes you wonder if he’s going to tease you, but his voice is warm and sweet as honeyed tea when he says, “Well shit, sweetheart, I didn’t know I was coming over to meet so many of your friends. I would’ve dressed better.”

You laugh, gesturing for him to follow as you go sit on your bed. “I wouldn’t worry about it, I don’t think they can even tell us apart. Which is a shame, because I devote so much care to them and they wouldn’t know me from Adam, but oh well.” You let your gaze skim over Eddie as he gets comfy beside you, laying down on his side and propping one head on his hand. He’s got on another flannel, under which is a Black Sabbath t-shirt. His jeans are faded, with a stain that looks suspiciously like chocolate just above the knee, and his hair is taking well to the lack of humidity in the chilly season, curls bouncy and defined. “You look nice anyway, so.”

Little lines spread like cartoonish rays of sunshine from the outer corners of Eddie’s eyes. “Daww, thanks, sweet thing. Sure you’re not just buttering me up so you can keep my shirt?”

You look to where you’ve left it, washed and folded primly on your desk. “I’m not,” you promise wistfully, “but…if that would work on you, I can start.”

Eddie takes your hand and begins tracing the lines of your palm absentmindedly. “You can have it. I mostly just wanted to see you. And I got to meet the roommates, so double bonus.” Your heart swells like a hot air balloon, big and warm and buoyant in your chest. Eddie turns your hand over, stroking gently at the skin below your knuckle. “What happened here?”

You lean over to see, laying down next to him with your shoulder pressed against his bicep as he runs his thumb over a tiny cut on your middle finger. “Oh, that was Willie.” You nod towards the cactus on the edge of your desk. “He scraped me while I was moving him to a bigger pot.”

Eddie glares in the cactus’ direction. “Little fucker,” he grumbles, kissing your finger lightly. “You can’t let these guys push you around, babe. You’re too good, you’ll take care of them no matter what. I think I’m gonna have to start coming around more to lay down the law.”

You don’t think of your plants as nearly so villainous as Eddie paints them, but you’re not going to argue against his being in your room more often. You tilt your head until it hits his shoulder. “If you think so,” you say noncommittally.

“I do,” he confirms, turning your hand back over and bringing it to lay on his chest, both of his clasped over it protectively. “You’re my best girl, you know? I can’t let you be bullied by a bunch of leafy assholes.”

“They’re generally nice to me.” You smile against his shoulder, and Eddie’s kiss is a gentle pressure on the top of your head.

“For now, sweetheart, but they’ve got you surrounded. Think I’d better stick around for a while, just to keep an eye on things.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x self insert #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson oneshot #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fandom

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goodeapple · 1 year ago

Text

be nice to your neighbors.

i have a million and two wip's in my Ysilla folder and somehow, i have to add one more.

i am an exhausting person. love y'all lots!

pairing : Aemond x Ysilla (Rhaenyra'sDaughter!OC)

warnings : Aemond is a simp & Ysilla is a plant nerd. Awkward flirting. Fluff. No smut :(

word count : 2,500+

It’s so fucking early. What self-respecting tattoo shop is open at 7AM on a Sunday? On God’s day? Aegon hasn’t stepped foot in a church since he was thirteen which explains the hours, but why the fuck is Aemond here and not him?

Aemond wasn’t exactly planning on going to church today, but maybe if he had the option, his arse would be in a pew next to his mother right now instead of perfecting a sketch for an appointment that isn’t even until next week.

His Americano is lukewarm, steam long blown away by the small oscillating fan tucked up on a high shelf. A row of overstuffed books, on everything from Classic Americana design to Valyrian legends he wants to detail on paper, fill up the rest of the ledge. The next one down houses a line of knick knacks he could never force himself to part with- a tiny tacky snowglobe from Harrenhal, his grandfather’s Hand of the King pin from when he was in the courts, 8-tracks from his mum’s rebellious punk phase before she went to college, and at the end, a framed photo of him and his siblings the day they opened the shop. Three identical terrified grins are spread over their faces, nervous anticipation bleeding through the black-and-white snapshot. Little pieces of his life in his little corner of the world, where he gets to do what he loves.

And the most important little worm to him sleeps the day away in her glass vivarium by the door. Vhagar lounges under her UV bulb, baking on a large smooth stone after inhaling her breakfast. His little crocodile without the teeth. The soft garden green bearded dragon with her yellow belly has been his constant companion since he rescued her from a Oldtown pet shop when he was a pre-teen. He hid her under his bed for a full seven months before his mum found her one day when she was searching for missing socks. It was an impressive feat, one she even had to acknowledge after blowing her fucking top.

Aemond darkens the curve of the kraken tentacle he’s sketching, a piece for a client coming all the way from the Iron Isles. The little suction cups still need more depth and he hasn’t even begun to flesh out the texture of the skin yet when the bell hanging above the shop door tinkles, signifying an end to his blissful solitude.

“Hello? Helaena, you here?”

Aemond drops his pencil, shoving off from his desk, grumbling as he goes. There’s still a hint of sleep in his eye and he rubs it away as he walks up the hall to the lobby.

“We don’t take walk-in’s on the weekends and we don’t have any appointments scheduled ‘till 9. So, are you sight-seeing or are you just overly punctual?” He doesn’t mean to sound like a dick, it just comes second nature.

The back of the head that greets him as he blinks open his eye is a pretty one, thick brunette curls pinned up with gold butterfly clips. The girl abandons the magazine she’d been leafing through, turning at the sound of his voice. The wide eyed look that’s spread over her face emphasizes plum-shaded irises, framed by palm leaf eyes. There’s a pair of beauty marks peppered on the dawn of her cheekbone. A rosy mocha mouth is pouted before it curves up into a charming bend of itself.

“I’m sorry, I'm not here to get any work done. I was just coming in to give something to Helaena.” The woman shimmies the large gift bag held tight in her fist as proof. “I’m a friend.”

Aemond shrugs off his disappointment. “Oh, my bad.” She’d be a gorgeous canvas. The golden brown of her skin would take color like a fucking champ. Black would be even better, really make the contrast pop. The smooth peak of her shoulders from underneath the oversized cream cardigan she wears is a tantalizing taste of something he wants to indulge in. “She’s not here yet.”

Her expression collapses and Aemond regrets causing such a look to dim her face. “Oh damn, she told me she’d be in at this time.”

Aemond thinks maybe he should call his big sister, considering he hasn’t received her standard “i’ll be there in 10, I PROMISE 10 MINUTES AEMMY!!” text today, when the girl’s face blooms into one of recognition.

“You’re Aemond, right?”

“Uh, yeah- yes, yes I am.” He coughs, straightening up a bit, manners braided into every core memory he possesses. His mom, in Aegon’s terms, is a tightass but damn him if he doesn’t know how to treat a woman.

“I always see you coming in and out of here, and well, you and Hel and Aegon all look alike, so I put two and two together and made four that you’re the missing piece of Three Headed Dragon.” She gestures to the air, implying she’s speaking about the name of the shop. The gold chains layered around her neck, some with pendants and some without, jingle with her movement. Aemond likes the softness of the sound.

“And when she came in for a succulent recommendation a few months back, I asked about you and she told me your name, and… yeahhh. I just didn’t want you to think I was some weirdo who’s been waiting for the perfect moment to get you alone.”

“Oh no, I wouldn’t think that.” He makes himself look very serious, knitting his brows in a thick, no-nonsense line but he has to bite his lip to keep from snickering, which she notices.

She breathes out a laugh, dipping her head in surrender. She turns to the entrance, and Aemond is worried she might leave. He doesn’t mind her company, which is a miracle considering the hour.

“Hey-”

“Is this your’s?” She points to the hyperrealistic direwolf stencil he’d cranked out last year during an artist’s block that he couldn’t shake for the life of him. The piece is gruesome, wicked lines and keen edges that intimidate even him, and he drew the damn thing.

“Uh, yeah. Good guess.” The black frames adorning the gallery wall are a mixture of his and Aegon’s work, all in varying shades of grays and blacks. His brother’s signature new school style is easily distinguishable to Aemond, but he admits some of their earlier sketches are more uniform than not.

“You do beautiful work.”

Aemond’s eyebrows raise and he lets the compliment warm him.

“I appreciate that. Many wouldn’t call that beautiful, but I think it has a certain magnetism to it.” He looks the woman over, using the excuse of actually searching for ink so that he can appreciate her willowy arms and the peek of shapely legs through the dash in her skirt. “Do you have any?” Aemond gestures to the wall, before gesturing to her.

She shakes her head, freeing an errant curl that falls over her forehead. Aemond picks at his joggers to keep his fingers from doing something stupid.

“Oh no. I’m not the biggest fan of needles. Self-admittedly, I can also be a bit of a flake, so permanent artwork on my body kind of gives me hives.” She shivers and Aemond thinks her modesty is adorable.

“That’s a shame.”

Mystery woman snaps her fingers, spinning on her toes to pin him with a look, and Aemond basks in the scent of jasmine and sea salt that wafts his way.

“If I change my mind, I know who to go to.” She blinks suddenly, her pointed hand gliding behind her to rub at the back of neck in a bashful way. “That is, if you’d ever want to. Or, if you’re like, accepting clients.”

“For you? I think I could make an exception.” Aemond leans into the counter, settling to her level. The way the flush of her cheeks drips into the creamy sweep of her chest makes him hungry. She drops her hand, edging forward on timid toes.

“Well, aren’t you sweet.”

He doesn’t really know how to reply to that. He can feel the tips of his ears heat up, and when she tucks her lock of hair back in place, he wishes he would’ve done it for her. He can see a thin line of dark walnut bracing the white of her eyes with how close he is, so close now he can smell the cinnamon on her breath from the condensating chai latte she holds in her other hand.

“Aemond!” The back door slams and his sister’s voice floats up the hall.

“Fuckin’ A, sorry I’m late. I hit construction traffic and I had to get gas or I would’ve been pushing my Volksy here, and then I needed a coffee, believe me.” A white-blonde head of super short hair is unleashed when his sister yanks off her crocheted bucket hat, and she gasps as she catches sight of the shop’s first patron of the day.

“Good morning, muffin, I was trying to get here as fast as I could!” Helaena is a tornado of violets, lavenders, and magentas, purple her chosen color of the day as she spins into the room, tucking her backpack into the lockable cabinet by Aemond’s knees.

The girl’s smile is a thing of beauty and even if it’s for Helaena, Aemond will keep it for himself.

“Good morning, Hel. No worries, your brother’s been keeping me company.”

Helaena spares him a look, sending a delicately sharp elbow right into his ribs.

“Has he? It must be your lucky day- he usually scares off the customers that aren’t on the schedule.”

Aemond throws a sturdy blunt elbow into her shoulder and revels in the wince that she tries to hide.

“Mmmm, not scared off yet. But if you would’ve given us a few more minutes, who knows?” A wink is sent his way, showing she means it in all good fun. Aemond fires a smile back at her, curling his lip up in a smirk he knows carries some weight to it. She swallows- he can see the jump in her throat, before she damn near flings her reason for coming in onto the counter.

“Here! She came in yesterday towards closing time, a special delivery just for you.”

Hel snatches it with greedy hands, unknotting the twine laced through the handles so she can stick her whole face into the bag.

“Oh my word, it's beautiful!” Helaena exclaims, wonderment turning her tone soft and breathy. Aemond can’t stunt his curiosity, knocking his sister’s head out of his way to peer into the gift bag.

“It looks moldy.”

Mystery woman looks mildly offended by his assessment, but it’s his sister that thwacks him in the chest.

“Shut it! You and Aegon practically drowned my cactus when I went on holiday last summer; what do you know about plants? It’s stunning and wonderful and all mine!” Helaena pulls out the plant with careful hands, gathering up the trailing vines like she’s lassoing a rope.

Hel oooo’s and ahhh’s , rubbing the silver spotted leaves between her fingers, smelling the somewhat heart-shaped sprouts for any lingering fragrance. Aemond’s surprised she doesn’t pop one in her mouth and give it a taste.

“A cactus?”

Aemond shrugs, happy to have the woman’s attention back on him, even if it is at his expense. “It looked thirsty.”

The giggle she gifts him makes his 5AM alarm worth it.

Helaena claps her hands together twice, calling attention to her like she’s a nursery school teacher. “Tell me about it- what’s its name and how do I keep it alive?”

“It’s a Scindapsus pictus, but satin Pothos or silver Philodendron is easier to remember. Even though it’s not technically a Pothos or a Philodendron, it’s in the Araceae family, which can be confusing, y’know? It’s naturally from the Hills of Andalos but it can also be found from Tyrosh all the way to Pinkmaiden.”

The siblings blink at her, both enjoying how she waxes on about something obviously interesting to her, even though it sounds like Dothraki to them. The brunette takes notice of their silence, tapering off her anecdotes while wearing a quiet, bemused grin.

“Anyways,” she twists the ring around her pinky in circles of nervous energy, “lots of light, water her like once a week, and she should thrive.”

“She’s perfect! Oh thank you for picking her out for me, darling. I’ll take such good care of her." Helaena has a way of hugging you with her words. It fills you with the warm and fuzzies, and the girl looks stuffed to the brim with them. She sighs though, shouldering the strap of her bag into place.

“I gotta get back to the shop- my early lunch break can’t go past 7:20, or Miss Olenna will be pissed if I’m not there to let her windowshop the roses.”

Helaena flutters around the counter, gushing promises of midday coffee dates and takeaway dinners before sweeping up the other girl in a rocking embrace.

The woman beams, happiness a good look on her, before pecking his sister’s cheek in parting. She pushes open the shop door, ducking out before catching it right before it closes. Her head pops back in, and the same stubborn curl from before has come loose again, twisting around the corner of her eye.

“It was nice meeting you, Aemond.”

“Likewise…” Did he not catch her name once the entire time? Fuck him and his so-called manners.

Her smile is so bright, it burns itself behind his eyelids. “Ysilla.”

“Likewise, Ysilla.” Aemond rolls her name off of his tongue, discovering he quite likes the taste of her. A gorgeous name for a gorgeous girl.

She bids him a little wave of her hand before shutting the door softly. She looks both ways before darting across the roadway and into roots., an aptly named nursery that bursts at the brick with vegetation and flowers.

Aemond turns on his sister with alarming agility.

“Alright, share with the class. Who was that?”

“That’s Ysilla, Aem. Duh. She runs the plant shop across the street.”

He resists the urge to flick her in the forehead. His trainers are new and he doesn’t want her size seven foot print scuffing them up.

“I’ve never seen her before.”

“Well you would, if you ever bothered to come out of your room and meet our neighbors. She’s been in charge for about a year and a half now. Mr. Forel is an old flame of her gran’s, or something like that, and she needed a job when he was thinking of retiring. So, perfect timing, I guess.” Hel fluffs the leaves, turning the plant pot this way and that, trying to decide which angle is most appealing. She carts it around the shop, holding it up to the spaces she’s thinking of occupying it with.

“What are you two, besties?” Aemond is so not jealous. Nah, never. Nope. No way, no how.

Helaena pauses, looking thoughtful before resuming her decorating.

“I’m kind of trying to be, but she goes to class after she’s done at the shop and if she’s not doing that, she has three brothers she helps take care of when her mum is working. So I stop off when I can and chat with her so we can catch up.”

Helaena cheers as she steps off the footstool she keeps around for high reaching access, admiring the vines cascading from the partition wall that divides the waiting room from her piercing studio.

“She’s pretty, isn’t she?” His sister is obviously speaking about the plant.

Aemond stares through the window across the street, the tan stucco building a bright bustle of life next to the high brow boutique to its left and Hot Pie’s bakery to its right. The numerous hanging pots from the ledge above the doorway would 100% split his skull if he wasn’t paying attention to where he was walking. Big glass windows are crowded by giant emerald fronds and stalks of leafy sprouts. The flower pots mirroring each side of the doorway are starting to wilt with the season, but the vibrant highlights of color splash a last breath of life against the stone.

If Aemond squints, he can catch a dark head of curls bouncing behind the register.

Maybe a plant wouldn’t be a bad addition to his shelves.

“Without a doubt.”

#hotd #aemond targaryen #ysilla targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x oc #modern hotd #modern aemond targaryen #my writing

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laineystein · 1 year ago

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Everyone keeps asking what they can do and my answers will always be to daven or donate. But if you’re looking for an alternative, I’ve made a list of things I’m missing and can’t have so in my honor you must enjoy them because I cannot:

My bed. Or really any bed that isn’t a sleeping bag in the dirt.

Sex.

A nice glass of wine

Lighting Shabbos candles and keeping them lit without worrying that the flame will draw undue attention.

Doomscrolling on my phone. What stupid things are celebrities doing? How dumb are they? I miss that.

A hot shower. Or really a shower in general. Take an ice cold shower for me. Even an ice cold shower sounds great.

Walk to shul and daven with your community. What a blessing!

The laughter of children. Dad jokes. Something innocent and sweet to contrast the crude nature of the current humor in my life.

Food that isn’t in a can or vacuum sealed. I never want to eat anything with a shelf life ever again.

Sex.

What We Do In The Shadows. Or really any of my stupid feel-good tv shows.

Plants? The ones in my apartment and on my balcony that I water every day, in particular. But just greenery in general. Everything here is…not green.

Silence. No drones flying above. No rumbling of tanks. No echos of explosions. No yelling. Silence.

I’ll update this when I think of more. In the meantime, you have your marching orders 🫡

#⚔️🇮🇱

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nyarlathotep-the-dark-pharaoh · 7 months ago

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My dearest Mikhail,

Your letter to René did not find them well. Few can be found well these days. I am one such who can. I am a kind stranger, and since I believe you ought to know, I will recount to you in earnest the recent events concerning your ‘dearest René’.

On Monday, they went to the florist. They purchased a peony, placed it in a vase on the dining room table, and ate alone. Alone except for the peony. I do not mean to imply that the peony was particularly sapient or that a Jubokko could form in such a plant, I only mean to say that in the absence of their usual dining partner, they took deliberate action to place another living thing at the table, Mikhail. René has always been astoundingly sane in that way, haven’t they? Do you remember on your second– no, third date, when you went out to the backcountry to look at the stars? Do you remember how afraid you’ve always been of the night sky? How unpleasant you find the scale of the dark? Do you remember how they knew those stars by name? How they looked unabashed into deep space and understood it? That was when you fell in love, Mikhail.

On Tuesday, Yggdrasil, the plume of life, was born. Many fled east in fear of falling ash. A fair decision, after all, how often does a volcanic plume choose to linger in the air? Entropy demands that it spread its ashes forth across the earth to choke all that dares to breathe the frigid air. Fleeing east is what any sane person would do. René stayed home. They didn’t know what would happen to them. But they couldn’t think east so long as their dearest Mikhail was west. The history channel was on. A man with a British accent whispered to them about Mount Vesuvius. The peony nodded solemnly along. They texted you, twice, but nothing goes in or out of Gore-Texas these days. It got dark early that night. Their dreams smelled of pine, and tasted like you.

On Wednesday, two men entered town. Both were tall, and only one was funny. René looked at the unread messages on their phone and chose to day drink. This required them to leave the home, as you two generally don’t keep alcohol in the house, except for holidays, and natural disasters. Between home and a drink is when they met the two men. The funny one introduced himself as Nigel Throne, and the other did not introduce himself at all. They got along well with Nigel, though, and exchanged contact information by the end of the day. Few people were left in town and they’ve always been in the habit of making friends. Don’t worry, Mikhail, they wouldn’t fall in love with a stranger without inviting you to join. They shared drinks and stories for several hours. As it turned out, Nigel was rather knowledgeable on the less understandable goings-on, and proved a comfort in the face of the unknown.

On Thursday, the Nuppeppō arrived, along with a patrol of Gore-Tex soldiers. René again remained indoors, as the Nuppeppō made them uncomfortable. They watched TV and ate those fruit snacks you keep in the shelf above the fridge, for emergencies. They checked the weather on their phone, and noticed that on Friday, it would rain. They tried to call you. They closed the curtains, as they didn’t want to see the Nuppeppō, and had a creeping feeling that someone was watching them. Rest assured Mikhail, I was the only one watching them. Hours passed, and they felt the faint rumblings of the distant storm. They dreamt of nothing, and woke before dawn to a knock at the door. They drearily limped from bed to meet Nigel at the door. He informed them that the storm was expected to be very bad, and that people were going to the storm shelter in the community center. René thought this was a fine idea and gathered a small satchel of their things and the storm box. Do you remember stocking that cooler with water, snacks, a flashlight, blankets, toilet paper? Do you wish you had put anything else in there, knowing they would take it with them that Thursday night? They slept on the ground, but it wasn’t too bad. Their dream felt like you, and looked like the Nuppeppō.

On Friday, they woke to the sound of an argument. A soldier was bickering loudly with a small group of civilians, which included Nigel Throne. René couldn’t make out what they were fighting about, but they saw how the argument ended. Out from neither side came the second tall man, the one who wasn’t funny like Nigel; with him he had what looked to René like a ring box. Nigel backed nervously away from the other tall man as he placed his hand on the shoulder of the soldier and beckoned him away. René did not see where the tall man went with the soldier, and they didn’t see any soldiers in town again. The tall man remained though, always carrying that ring box with him. They let the sounds of thunder and rain lull them back to sleep. Their dream sounded like tinnitus, and was shaped like a well lacquered ring box. When they woke in the afternoon, ring box on the mind, they resolved to ask Nigel what had happened. They didn’t really understand his response, but it seemed unsettling. “There are some things that even I don’t want to know.” They spent a rainy evening indoors, and headed home alone when it cleared up. They made a bolognese for dinner, even though it was supposed to be leftovers day. They shut the blinds tight, stared at their unreceived messages, and went to bed.

On Saturday, they went for a walk. They spoke briefly with a few neighbors who remained in town, and reveled in the Nuppeppō free streets. Her spawn never stayed when it rained. They went all the way to the edge of town. They looked up at Yggdrasil, the world plume, unabashed, and understood it. Do you remember when you fell in love? Not six feet away was a Jubokko, Mikhail. You were dead if I hadn’t been watching. I gazed at you as you gazed up at the stars that made you so nervous. No Kaidan would touch you as I knew your name. You do not need to thank me. I know you aren’t grateful. They are grateful for you, though. They truly do love you, Mikhail, beyond anything I could imagine. They didn’t dream that night.

On Sunday, they met God in a ring box.

On Monday, I went alone to the florist. I purchased a peony, placed it in a vase on your dining room table, and ate alone. Alone except for the peony. I do hope this letter finds you well.

Your dearest,

Nigel Throne

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akwolfgrl · 2 months ago

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Do you want the masculine or feminine side I can do both. Part 2

“It was originally made to be a captain's room, then it became storage, but it's not used for that anymore either. I knew I'd find a use someday!” Franky opened the door to a room they must have passed by more than once or twice but never paid much mind to.

It was about half the size of Nami and Robin's room on the Marry, maybe a little bigger. There was a port window where they could smoke! They weren't allowed to smoke in the boy's room. There was an extra infirmary cot they could use as a bed.

“I can fix it up in no time! Vanity, bed, an end table and dresser good for you? There's not a lot of room.”

“Can I get a chair by the window? Maybe a small shelf for an ashtray?” They asked, Nami and Robin's old room had a desk for Namis maps. That wasn't something they needed. They tended to work and write their recipes in the kitchen. It made the most sense.

“Yah not a problem! Anything eles?”

“A small jewelry box, and this isn't for my room, but I need a bigger or second spice rack.”

Franky gave them a big thumbs up. “You got it! You should see some of the ideas I cooked up,” Franky winked at them. “For improving the kitchen mostly a hidden pantry for preserves and space for dehydration and freeze drying food! Cook, you are gonna love it! It will be a super way to preserve food!”

“Are you serious!” Sanji exclaimed. Only the lovely ladies and Franky who installed the fridge knew the code. They couldn't trust that the others wouldn't blurt it out or let Luffy in. “That would be perfect! Fuck I have so many ideas alredy!” If Franky wasn't a man Sanji would be gushing over how amazing he was.

“I'll get started right away. You'll have a super bedroom in time!” Sanji expected him to leave, but instead, he paused in the open door. “Wanna hear what else I got planned for the Sunny? You'll think it's super.” Franky asked them.

Sanji shrugged. They highly doubted they would care, but they would be nice since Franky was going through all the trouble of fixing up a room for them. “Sure I guess.”

Sanji watched as Franky opened their stomach and pulled out blueprints. “I already showed Nami-sis and Little-bro. It's a greenhouse!” Franky held the paper open to allow Sanji to look at them. “Of course, a lock to keep Luffy out.”

“Wow!” Sanji couldn't help but to exclaimonce again, already dreaming up all the wonderful dishes they could cook up with the fresh produce how they could preserve. From their own greenhouse.

“Little-bro volunteered to plant everything! Nami-sis had belli in her eyes at all that she would save on grocery runs!”

“I look forward to cooking with our own vegetables.”

Zoro climbed out of the water after destroying the ship he was on. A familiar presence waited for him on the shore. Someone he had been waiting for. Sanji had changed in the two years apart, and Zoro couldn't stop staring at them. The skin-tight black pants left little to the imgasion, the heels made their muscular thighs look even better, the white shirt was flowy and fussy. His hair was much longer, pulled back in two long braids, except for bangs covering his other eye. A trail of smoke trailed above his head as he smirked at Zoro.

Fuck, Zoro wanted to kiss that smirk off his stupid face, brush back the bangs and see both eyes as the pupils grow with lust. He wanted to use the damn cooks flexibility to bend him all sorts of positions as he fucked him. How the hell did the damn ero-cook get even fucking hotter in the last two years?

#one piece #fanfic #black leg sanji #sanji #roronoa zoro #zoro #zoro x sanji #genderfuild sanji #do you want the masculine or feminine side i can do both

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desertdollranch · 2 years ago

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My DIY WellieWishers Playhouse

A few weeks ago, I found this Our Generation brand beach house at a secondhand shop. A little doll playhouse has been on my wish list for a long time, specifically because I wanted to renovate it into a customized dream home for my five dear sweet Wellies!

I love these little kiddos. They’re so cute and charming. I had originally only planned to get Emerson, but then I found Willa at a thrift store and couldn’t resist adding the rest after that. And I love making clothes for them, including these particular outfits.

Ultimately I would have been thrilled to find the actual WellieWishers playhouse secondhand.

But I’ve never seen it in any thrift store. And this is retired so it’s as expensive on the secondhand market as it was when it was available new from American Girl.

I also noticed, when looking at other people’s photos of their dolls using this house, that it’s actually very small. It’s not meant to accomodate all the Wellies.

So I started looking for an Our Generation brand house, since they make tons of larger-scale doll house playsets. They’re actually made for 18 inch dolls, but they fit 14 inch Wellies a bit better. The Seaside Beach House playset seemed like a good choice. Here’s how it originally looked:

When bought new, it comes with lots of small accessories, mostly food and dishes. The one I found and bought didn’t come with any of the accessories, which was fine. If there were any that I absolutely needed, I could make them.

Once I acquired it, I got to work with the renovations.

Kendall helped me out, since she’s crafty and likes to make things.

First I took out the plastic bench. It folds out into a bed that can fit one 18 inch doll or two 14 inch dolls. Then I moved the kitchen around so that the shelves fit under the window and open up the floor, making it all one room instead of two rooms.

This did unfortunately disconnect the power source for the overhead light and all the little kitchen and beach sound buttons. But I plan on replacing them with maybe something better.

Once everything was rearranged, I painted and wallpapered the walls. Then I added all the little accessories.

With the kitchen moved, the little porthole window is above the sink, which looks nice. I added a roll of paper towels and some hand soap by the sink.

The Wellies are only six years old and not allowed to have very hot things that can bun, so their stove and oven are for pretend play.

The fridge is “real” and holds their snacks. To the left of that you can see the oven and underneath that, a second oven that I told the Wellies is actually a dishwasher. I took the handle off until I decide how to make it look like a dishwasher.

With the countertop underneath the row of windows, the plants can get some nice direct sun. To the left of the plants is the girls’ microscope. On the upper shelves are gardening supplies.

Emerson’s job is to water the potted herbs.

The top shelf is for toys. I had a great time compiling all these mini toys for the girls: two little rabbits, a troll, real metal toy trains, a koosh ball, a slinky, and dinosaurs. The second shelf holds dishes. The bottom shelf has mini American Girl books and magazines, plus some microscope slides, a deck of cards, and a flower press.

This little bench, and the stuffed lamb, were also recent thrift store finds. My aunt made the two stuffed chickens. I made the felt cactus.

It’s kind of small and will only sit one Wellie or two smaller dolls, but it’s too cute to not use.

I made the pom pom rug also. The carpet is a rectangle of soft velour fabric. I’m still undecided whether to use carpet or to make a faux wooden floor.

The door has a screen in the window, and the window moves up and down to let in a breeze. Attached to the outside screen is a little plastic bug.

On the right of the door are two seahorse-shaped hooks to hold jackets and hats.

The door locks, too!

There’s still room outside to put up the table and chairs I made for the Wellies last summer.

And there’s room for younger siblings to come by and play.

Behind the house is the wooden tree swing, a perfect place to enjoy the evening breeze.

#wellie wishers #wellie wishers crafts #dollhouses #doll playsets #our generation

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justrainandcoffee · 11 months ago

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You may know it, or not, that my modern!Alfie has an Inn called "The Wandering Jew". The series are set in 2020, in middle of the quarantine when he met my oc, Rose. Both of them are "trapped" there.

So... Even when in my mind the Inn is quite clear, I never described it. I'm not capable of writing too many details but now I spent some time hours looking for pictures that more or less represent what my mind created. Even when it's not exactly the same.

A tour to Alfie's Inn:

The main door it's completely made of glass, different of this one, but the ones I saw on Google didn't satisfied me. And this one, has an electronic lock something that the one in the story has.

______________

The reception counter is smaller than this, but basically the same.

Where that wooden shelf is, there's the elevator. Next to the pillar you can find the stairs that lead to the first floor. The main door it's just in front of the reception counter. ←There are the sofas and the tv and there → the dinning room.

___________

It has an inner garden 🌱! They shared their first kiss there (although I didn't write that scene, yet.) The door in the back doesn't exist. But the rest is quite similar. Although there's a tree.

Through this garden you can access to Alfie's apartment. Walking this way → there are stairs that lead you to his and Cyril's home.

_______________

The hallway(s) where the rooms are, look surprisingly similar to this one. Except for the plants. But it's more or less like that.

___________

Bedrooms, too. Well, it's an inn, of course 😂.

Not a five stars (yet) but not those bed and breakfast were you have to share a bathroom either. Quite acceptable place, private rooms and bathrooms.

____________

And the pool that's on the rooftop. Above the third floor. Alfie and Rose spent a lot of time there during the summer. You know... Enjoying. 🤭.

I really wanted to do something like that. Still, in my mind everything is more harmonious (of course) but if you use the imagination...

Tagging my readers, who may interested in it:

@evita-shelby @hoodeddreams13 @zablife @runnning-outof-time

#the wandering Jew #alfie solomons #alfie x rose #alfie solomons x ofc #peaky blinders #modern au

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lightning-writes · 1 year ago

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good heart (faulty machine of a man) - 19/30

fic summary: bucky meets someone at therapy

chapter summary: rue calls bucky (alt: nothing platonic happens after 12 am)

word count: 2150

tags: post endgame, pre tfatws, slow burn, canon divergent, canon compliant, au

warnings: none

a/n: we love a flirty bucky x rue moment! also some ruby lore!

AO3 MASTERLIST X

The clatter of his phone vibrating on the wooden floor makes him groan. Who the hell is calling him after midnight? He rolls over and sees the bleary image of Rue’s face.

Panic rises in his chest as he stands. He answers the phone with an alarmed, “Hello?”

“It’s a video call, friend, get me away from your ear.”

Bucky holds the phone out to see Rue in a bathroom. She has the phone propped behind the sink, rubbing something onto her face, and she looks down at the phone.

(He first notices her exposed stomach from the cropped tank top, then her pierced nipples again. He can’t presume her intention, but he doesn’t know which Rue’s getting tonight. And it makes his ears hot.)

“Jesus Christ, James,” she startles him out of his thoughts. The phone is in her hands now, her face close to the screen. “Look at those pectorals.”

Bucky looks down at his shirtlessness. Automatically, his hand flies up to cover himself.

In a muffle tone that he can only believe is to herself, she mutters, “I mean, I knew you were jacked, but goddamn.”

(Bucky has no idea how he should feel about this statement, but it certainly does make him feel something.)

She sets the phone back down and begins to braid her hair. To him, she says, “Vick has Frank over, so I thought I’d call you. I’m just getting ready for bed.” She peeks down at the phone. “Were you sleeping?”

“Kinda.” He wasn’t, but his answer is more acceptable than saying he was trying to find a comfortable spot on the floor of his nearly empty living room. “But, it’s fine.”

“Great.” She applies something else to her face, taking her time rubbing it into the skin. “I just had half a bottle of wine, so be prepared for that.”

(He makes a non-committal noise, wondering what drove her to drink.)

“Anyway, what’s up, how was your day?”

“Uh, fine?” He walks into his dark bedroom and finds a shirt. He doesn’t even have a lamp; he has to turn on the bright overhead light and frowns. He sits on his bed with only one pillow left. “How was yours?” he asks, unsure.

He watches her walk from the bathroom to her bedroom. She sits on the bed with a huff, and he notices the shelves above her headboard. Dried orange slices and small twinkling light hang from the bottom shelf, and he sees a plant vine that nearly brushes her head. Under the shelves, there are photographs taped to her wall, some people, some landscapes. He sees the shine of a still wrapped condom when he averts his eyes.

“Glad you asked.” She calls attention back down to her. “So, you know how I work at Waterway? Well, so did Maeve, until we broke up, so everyone working there knows our story and mostly everyone knows about the whole Dean situation. So, apparently, Maeve just posted her engagement to Instagram, and literally, Bucky, I kid you not, everyone on staff asked me about it. If I was sad about it, if I’d seen it. As if I didn’t block her on all my socials already! You’d think they’d have more decorum, but obviously not!”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky offers. He got lost in the rant for a moment, but he finds his way out by the end.

She plows through his sympathy. “So, I went– wait, are you… against hooking up or anything?”

“What?” He’s confused by the sharp turn of conversation.

“I mean, being from the 1940’s and all that,” she says impatiently, “I don’t want to offend you with my sexcapades.”

“You won’t,” he nearly laughs. “Trust me.”

(She pauses for too long a moment, and he wishes he knew what she was thinking.)

“Okay, so I went to this lesbian bar I’d gone to with Maeve once, and tried to hook up with someone, but I had no luck - I bet the loser vibes were just emanating off me - so I asked Vick if we could have a girls’ night. And she’d said yes, but then canceled at the last minute!” She brings the phone close to her face again, to whisper, “Frank asked her to dinner, and she thinks he’s going to propose soon, so I guess she’s jumping at every opportunity? I don’t know, I don’t believe in marriage.”

“Didn’t you prop–”

“Anyway,” she says dramatically, giving him a hard look through the screen. He suppresses a grin. “So, while they were out - which I’d like to point out, it was ten o’clock when this happened - Dean came over, like he fucking knew I was alone and rejected, and he dropped off my stuff I’d left at his apartment. And I told him I’m not returning shit because it’s not like I’m keeping fucking tabs on all the belongings in my house!”

Bucky notes how much she swears but doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he asks, “Is that a normal thing to do?”

“Have you ever watched a ‘90’s sitcom?” Rue scoffs. She’s now laying in her bed. She brushes the end of her braid over her face idly.

“Actually–”

She doesn’t let him finish. “So, after he left, I had my wine, I did my skincare, and I called you – lucky you!”

“Lucky me.” He tucks his arm behind his head. She watches him with another expression he can’t place. “Aren’t you tired, after all that?”

She sighs, her mouth twisted in a rueful smile. “Honestly, my brain won’t shut up.”

“I can’t sleep, either,” he confesses after a beat.

(He’s tempted to tell her he can come over or they could go somewhere, but he doesn’t want to fluster her, like she’s been.)

“Give me a house tour,” she declares unprompted. She’s laying on her side, giving him a playfully stern face. “You’ve been to my place, but I’ve never seen yours.”

“You didn’t give me a tour.”

“You didn’t ask for one.”

He rolls his eyes, schooling his amused look. “There isn’t much to see,” he admits.

“I demand entertainment, Barnes,” she pounds a fist into her bed.

(His brain stalls when she calls him by his last name.)

Bucky gets up and turns the front facing camera to his bedroom. He has a dresser, a laundry hamper, and a nightstand. He doesn’t give commentary as he enters the living room, showing his TV, still on, his record player, its speakers, and his small couch. He discreetly kicks away his sleeping setup on the floor as he moves to the kitchen. Rue watches, quietly, drinking from a cup with a familiar bird logo.

“That’s it,” he suppresses a yawn as he sits on the couch. “I told you, not much to see.”

“Oh, but it definitely entertained me,” she says. She looks sleepy, too; her blinks are slower. “Were you watching something?”

“Whatever’s on at,” he checks the time, “at two in the morning.”

“Hmmm,” she hums. He passes a hand through his still shower-damp hair. She then sits up. “Wait, did you get a haircut?”

He’s startled, fingers still combing through his hair. “...uh, yes?”

“You know, if I knew calling you was just going to be a thirst trap, I would have prepared better.” She pauses. “A thirst trap is–”

“Yeah, I actually know what that one means,” he interrupts.

(He briefly wonders what she meant by prepared. He also wonders how long they’ll continue this dance. WIll it end in a grand finale or will the song scratch to a stop?)

She gives him a curious look. “So, you know what you’re doing.”

He shrugs, “I’m just existing.”

“Well, exist less hot when I’m too drunk.” She flops back, dramatically throwing a hand over her forehead. “You know, this is what got us into the Thanksgiving mess in the first place.”

“Is that right?”

“It looks nice, your hair,” she ignores his comment, “I mean, it looked nice before, but…”

She yawns. He yawns.

There’s a long stretch of silence between them, and Bucky wonders if he should be the responsible one to call it a night.

“Can I tell you a secret, Buck?”

“Are you sure you want to do that? In light of the Thanksgiving incident?” She gives him a flat look, and he gives her a soft smile. “Yeah, Rue, I want to hear your secret.”

“I’m… miserable.”

(Her whisper breaks him.)

“I’m miserable, and I deserve it.” She wipes a tear curling down her cheek with the end of her braid. “I’m miserable, and I deserve it, and there’s nothing you can say to make me think otherwise.”

“Okay,” he responds too casually. She gives him a sharp look. “You know, if you were calling to have a pity party, I would have prepared better.” She tries to mask her amusement blooming behind her mad features. “I would have put up a banner… or maybe, some balloons–”

She huffs. “Okay, I get it.”

“I think…” Bucky pauses, eyes avoiding the screen to fully form his thoughts. “You don’t deserve to feel miserable.” He looks at her then, and shrugs a shoulder. “If you did, you wouldn’t.”

“Go on.”

He chuckles. “If you did deserve it, if you really were a bad person, I don’t think you would feel so miserable. Your misery is… it’s your guilt. I mean… you know what you did wasn’t great, and you actually feel bad about it.”

“All right, big boy, we get it. You go to therapy.”

“You studied therapy,” he counters.

(He pointedly ignores her ‘big boy’ comment.)

“Yeah, okay, but it wasn’t like it was my first choice,” she retorts. “Listen, I didn’t want to tell you this before because I know you have paranoid tendencies, but it seems like I’m a sinking ship and, apparently, a glutton for punishment, so I’m gonna tell you–”

“That’s a big preamble for you telling me you almost worked for Shield.”

Rue props herself up with her elbow, again, staring at him so intensely, it almost looks like the video is frozen.

“How could you have possibly known that? That’s super confidential.”

(Bucky had left the gym immediately after receiving the call from The Toad. He met with him at Red Hook Pier, in the rainy night, because better safe than sorry.

“Soldier,” the Toad greeted him in Russian.

Bucky hands him the envelope thick with cash. “That’s not me anymore.”

He hands Bucky the envelope of information with a knowing look. “You will always be a soldier, even if you aren’t the Winter Soldier.”

“Anything I need to know?”

“How do the Americans say it,” he says in English, accent thick and stumbling, “‘The call is coming from inside the house’?”)

He just says, “I’m a former spy.”

“You don’t even know my last name,” she protests.

“Is that right, Ruby David?” he challenges.

He watches realization spread across her features. “Okay, fine, I should have guessed you’d do this. Re: paranoid.”

“Prepared.”

“Distrusting.”

“Vigilant.”

“So, what else did you find?” she asks abruptly.

He’s quick to answer, “What are you worried I’d find?”

“Not worried.” She fiddles with her braid. “Just… curious. I’ve been pretty much an open book, other than the Shield stuff.”

To be fair, she’s telling the truth there. Aside from standard information about her and her family, Bucky mostly found information about her rebellion throughout high school, skipping class, failing class, getting caught smoking all over campus. He saw she’d been arrested at the age of twenty for protesting and a string of bar fights. She also had a long list of lovers, ranging from her age to much older, in quick succession. She’d been paid for her relationships, something the Toad called a “sugar baby”.

Her history with Shield had been brief and mostly one-sided. She’d done a lot of research into finding out whether they actually existed and how she could join them. When she’d been accepted, she had started training… and had backed out a week before initiation. It aligns with what she’d said about taking in her brother.

By the time Mikey had moved out, Hydra would have been outed, and Shield had dissolved.

(Bucky had been there for that one.)

“Yeah, you’ve been pretty honest,” he finally says.

She hums, eyes blinking slowly. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

Bucky is picking up the bedding from the ground and transferring it to his bed as her eyes are downcast. He settles into bed and sighs. “I get why you didn’t. I wouldn’t have told me either.”

Her lips quirk a soft smile. And she yawns again. And he follows. A hush falls between them, just the sound of them breathing. Bucky feels his eyelids grow heavier. The glow of the TV outside casts a dim glow into the bedroom,

“I should get going,” she finally sighs. “I have work at seven tomorrow morning.”

“In three hours,” he corrects.

“Fuck.” She turns on her side. She repeats, “I should sleep.”

Bucky mirrors her. “So, go to sleep.”

“You first.”

Bucky closes his eyes and pretends to snore. He hears her surprised giggle, and he catches her biting her lip as she gazes at him.

“Stay on the line.”

“Okay.” He switches his phone to his other hand. “Good night, Ruby.”

“Sweet dreams, James.”

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