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theidiotwhowritesthings · 1 year

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A FRESH START [22]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: panic attack, trauma reaction, mentions of injuries, nonsexual nudity

Word Count: 5,935

Updates every Thursday

Summary: When you made plans for your future they never involved being hired by a Mandalorian to baby-sit his adorable, green gremlin of a child. However, after your life fell apart in the span of one disastrous night, you found it to be the only feasible option you had left. Nevarro was a far cry from Coruscant, but the thriving community turned out to be exactly what you needed. Every day you spend in Nevarro you fall more and more in love with your new life, but when your past rears its ugly head you find that perhaps peace wasn’t meant for everyone.

[a/n: i was forced to shorten the taglist for the sake of my sanity. tumblr won't let me post with more than certain number. I think that's why I've had the hardest time with this shit. I made it a first come, first served so if your username got dropped I am so so so sorry but that's why.]

#22: LIKE FATHER, LIKE SON

"i find my place in between your arms, in between your tender kisses and soft whispers of 'it will be alright', in between the warmth of your embrace, and the scent of your neck, and the fierceness of your touch, i find my place lost inside your soul." -Hearts and Empires

Din was immensely proud of your skills as a physician. However, if you didn’t get your ass out of the damn medic tent he was going to throw you over his shoulder and carry you home forcibly. More than anything, you needed rest. He wasn’t able to convince you to stop working and because the medical aid had yet to arrive no one else sided with him on these matters. Karga had the nerve to tell him to calm down. Din had nearly wrung the High Magistrate’s neck.

He watched as you flittered around the medical tent aiding those who were injured alongside Aayla. Grogu had refused to leave your side, and that didn’t seem to bother you at all. Right now, as if you weren’t exhausted and barely standing, you had a sling wrapped around your chest which held Grogu against your back. Din could see the little boy resting his head against your back while rubbing your shoulder with his small hand. The sight warmed his heart and Din would be tempted to snap a picture to save if it weren’t for the state of your being. Your scrubs were still stained with blood and you had yet to clean your own wounds. It was stressing Din out to watch you working so hard when you were still in the state you were in.

While turning to see someone else, Din noticed you wavering on your feet. That was enough. He pushed forward and pressed through the injured crowd straight to you. “Hey.” You turned to meet his gaze. “It’s time to go home. You’re barely able to stand.”

“I can’t⏤”

“Ner kar’ta.” Din said firmly.

You sighed. “Alright. Fine.” Your shoulders sagged. “I guess I am a little tired.” Din shook his head, a quiet chuckle slipping from his lips. Your small smile turned sheepish and Din dreaded whatever it was you were going to say next. “I need to make sure Nima has cleared the tarmac though so the medical team can park.”

“What?”

“We need to get⏤”

Din reached his gloved hands out to cup your face. At the contact, the rest of your words fell away. He leaned forward and spoke firmly. “We’re going home. You need to rest. Somebody⏤ Anybody else can do the rest of the work here.” He let his thumb trace your cheekbone. Din wished he could feel your skin against his. “Have you managed all the emergency cases?”

“I mean, yeah, but⏤”

“Then it’s time to take care of yourself.” Din finished.

Your lips pressed together and gave him a small nod. Din let out a breath of relief. Without wasting another moment, Din slipped his hand into yours and began to drag you away before someone could distract you with a new job. Just having your hand in his was a comfort he couldn’t even begin to describe. During his travels, he imagined what his reunion with you would look like often. Never did he imagine karking pirates would be involved, but this feeling in his chest he had anticipated. He knew being back by your side would feel like coming home. In fact, he may have underestimated how strongly the reunion would make him feel⏤ which was quite the feat considering how badly he craved it.

Din stepped into the shared home and he couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief.

“Frog. Frog.” Grogu chirped. He turned in time to see you untangling the boy from the sling to set on the ground. Grogu bounded further into the room probably to look for his stuffed toy.

Din focused back on you and his heart ached at the exhaustion painted on your face. Not wasting another moment, Din ripped off his gloves, tossing them aside, and reached out to cup your face. You let out a shuddering breath when his skin came in contact with his and Din felt that last tinge of stress leave his body. You were safe. It felt more real like this.

“Are you still allowed to take this off to kiss me?” You asked. Din couldn’t tell if your quiet voice came from a meekness or just the weariness of your last 24 hours.

“Yes.” Din chuckled. “We just need to be more careful.”

Technically speaking, it would be best if he didn’t take his helmet off anymore. Having you close your eyes was not the most ideal of plans. Accidents could happen, and more than anything it was just a loophole in his Creed. However, Din would give up vital organs before he gave up the gift and honor that was kissing you.

You closed your eyes and Din lifted one of his hands so he could lightly trace your bruised and dirty features. He hummed, “You’re injured and tired. We should take care of that first.”

“Literally nothing is more important to me right now than this.” You replied.

Din hardly needed further convincing. Removing his hands from your face had been painful⏤ even knowing that it was only for a moment so he could take his helmet off. Without the barrier between you and him, your injuries looked worse. The dark coloring of the bruising and the red of the blood was so much more prominent. Din could see bags under your eyes he hadn’t noticed before. With a quiet sigh, Din cupped your face once more.

“Ni ceta.” Din mumbled soft apologies. He leaned in to press his lips first against your left eyelid then your right. He continued to pepper soft kisses across your cheek until they found your lips. Din would be a liar if he said he hadn’t spent every single night while gone imagining what your lips would feel like on his return. And, just as with the reunion, his mental image did not do the moment justice. Din had pictured passion and heat, a battle between one another to devour the other first, but this kiss was not that.

This kiss was soft, tender, and patient.

Three things that Din never got to call his own, living a life of battle in armor of Beskar.

Your lower lip was slotted between both of his and as he gave it a gentle tug you released a shaky sigh. The sound struck him like a hot iron and Din couldn’t help but breathe you in. He pulled you closer so your body was flush with his, let the tip of his tongue trace the shape of your lip, as he deepened the kiss. Din allowed desperation to seep into his very touch. It couldn’t be helped. Din was desperate. He was desperate to feel your very alive heartbeat under his touch. He was desperate for the warmth you exuded. He was desperate to show you how thankful he was for your safety. He was desperate for you to know how proud he was of you. He was desperate for you to know how sorry he was for not being here.

Din was desperate, and it was all for you.

“Ni ceta, ner kar’ta.” Din spoke directly against your lips. Nothing short of the Maker would tear him away from you. Your own hands lifted and when he felt your fingers rake against his scalp, tug on his hair, Din’s repeated apology fell out in a groan. Din dragged his lips along your jawline, taking the time to leave a kiss on every inch. Eventually, his lips found your neck and he left kisses over the darkened bruise there. “I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault.” You replied in a hoarse whimper.

Din disagreed entirely. He should’ve been here. He never should have left your side. You flinched when his lips touched a spot more tender than the rest. It was barely noticeable. In fact, he wouldn’t have realized you flinched at all if it wasn’t for your body being pressed so tightly to his. It was enough to remind him that you still needed care and rest. Din pressed one last kiss against your lips⏤ innocent and loving. When he pulled back you let out a whine of complaints. Din reached down to grasp his helmet and pulled it back on.

He leaned forward to rest the beskar against your forehead and at the touch your eyes opened once more. More than anything, Din wanted to see the color of your eyes unhindered by his visor. Even with the helmet on he found your eyes mesmerizing but the visor always muted colors. It seemed fitting if he thought about it. Even with the loophole of taking his helmet off, with your eyes closed a part of you stayed hidden to him. Just as he was hidden to you.

“Let me take a look at your wounds.”

“No.” You said and Din furrowed his brow. As if reading his displeasure at the response, you shook your head and clarified. “I meant, not now. I want to take a shower first. I need to.”

Din found it hard to argue against that. You wouldn’t be able to fully relax until the day was washed from your skin. He nodded and walked you further into the house. He kept one hand on your lower back, and Din loved that you kept pace with him. It wasn’t as if you didn’t know where the bathroom was, but the action made it feel like you were just as desperate as he was to stay in the other’s presence.

Grogu waddled out of the hall, dragging his stuffed frog behind him, just as the two of them reached the mouth of the hallway. He held his hands up, chirping out a request to be held, and Din knelt down to scoop the boy up before you could. Grogu blew a raspberry at him. “No buir. Need Ma.”

“I know, ad’ika.” Din replied. “But Ma has to take a shower.”

Grogu grumbled in protest, but when you reached out to lovingly pet the boy’s head Grogu was marginally appeased. As you drifted to the bathroom, Din gathered a fresh towel for you and he also grabbed one of his shirts for you to change into. A decision made solely to relieve the itch in his brain that needed to see you safe in his bed wearing his clothes, but you accepted both items with a tired smile.

When the door shut and he heard the water kick on, Din blew out a breath of relief. He glanced down at Grogu who was still staring at the bathroom door. “It’s good to be home, isn’t it ad’ika?”

“Home with Ma.” Grogu nodded in agreement.

“Right.” Din chuckled. “We’re home with Ma.”

The hot water pelted your back and left your skin radiating heat. You had washed your hair, begun to wash your body, but midway through you dropped the bottle of soap. As you knelt down to pick it up, you suddenly had a flash of kneeling beside Wynn’s dead body. It sucked the air straight from your lungs and knocked you to your ass. Now you sat under the unrelenting stream of water with your legs curled up to your chest⏤ gasping in distress. Any air you did manage to fill your lungs with was uncomfortable and brought no relief. It felt like you were suffocating.

A choked sob left your lips as you buried your face in your arms as they rested atop your knees. No matter how much you tried to turn your tired mind off, it continued to ruminate on the decisions you made. If you hadn’t forced Wynn to leave, would she still be alive? She wanted to wait for help. You felt trapped in this memory. A loop of telling Wynn she needed to run followed by watching the life leave her eyes right in front of you. You could still feel the warmth of her hot blood while holding her wound⏤ still feel the snapping of her ribs during the course of your desperate CPR. All useless. You didn’t save her. You sent her to her death.

The sensation of having a towel thrown over your shoulders was startling. Your head snapped up to see Din knelt beside you. The shower head was off, Din’s gray pajama shirt plastered to his body on the side from water, and just behind him you could see the bathroom door hanging off it’s hinges.

“Ner kar’ta.” Din’s voice was rough. “Please talk to me.”

“Din?” You gasped. He had the large towel wrapped entirely around your body covering every inch of you. “What⏤ I don’t understand⏤”

“I heard something fall. I called out for you, over and over, but you didn’t respond.” Din replied. His voice took a sheepish tone. “I⏤I broke through the door.” He let his arms run over the towel covering your arms, giving them a squeeze. “Found you like this. Even when I turned the water off you still didn’t…”

It was the sight of your reflection in his visor and helmet that seemed to push you over your edge. Tears welled in your eyes and once the first ragged sob left your lips it was followed quickly by a string of others. Despite the fact that you were sitting on a tiled floor soaked with puddles, Din sat down right beside you and cautiously pulled you into his arms. You tucked yourself against his chest, and he fully enveloped you with his arms while resting his head on top of yours.

“It’s okay. You’re safe.” Din murmured. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head. Your sobs only interrupted by the sound of your lungs gasping for air. Din tightened his arms around you, a feat you didn’t know was possible, and you found comfort in his solid form. Din was here. Din made everything better. You weren’t sure how long the two of you sat there, but eventually Din mumbled softly, “We need to get you dressed. You’ll be cold soon.” You didn’t tell him that you’d never feel cold in his hold. “Need to treat your wounds too.”

Din helped you stand. He cautiously led you out of the shower, arm around your torso, and he stopped you in front of the bathroom counter. “I’m going to get the first aid kit from the kitchen. Are you going to be alright?”

You nodded. Din paused, as if hesitant, before returning the nod and moving toward the door. He mumbled a curse under his breath, you could hear it, and then he grabbed the large chunks of the door that had broken off when he rammed it to set aside where nobody would trip over them. While he was out, you grabbed his shirt and tugged it on⏤ using the damp towel to try and pat dry the dripping ends of your hair. Din returned, his visor scanning your body, before he settled beside you again.

With a focused intensity, Din applied a bit of bacta to the wound at your hairline and then rubbed some of it into the bruise around your neck as well. In the midst of his work, you whispered, “Wynn is dead.” Din’s fingers paused in their motion, surprise reading in his frame, but he was quick to return his movements and stance back to baseline. “She’s dead and I didn’t tell anybody. I forgot to tell someone.” Tears returned to your eyes. “I just left her in the street, Din. I left her like she meant nothing.”

“Hey.” Din said firmly. “This was during the firefight, was it not?” You nodded in confirmation. “You had no choice, ner kar’ta. That wasn’t your fault.”

“I think it was.” Your words fell out a pained whisper.

Din’s hands lifted to cradle your face and you leaned into his touch. It felt like he wanted to say something, but he paused. Instead, Din tangled his hand with yours and pulled you out of the bathroom. He didn’t ask, didn’t even hesitate, to pull you into his room. The moment you entered you heard Grogu’s familiar snores and it was such a comforting sound to hear after weeks sleeping in silence that you nearly cried. Din pulled back the covers and helped you slide in.

Rather than follow you into bed, he took a step back and the look on your face must have been obvious enough that he reached out to caress your face. “I’m coming back. I need to change clothes.”

Your eyes focused on the large wet stains from where you had been curled up into him. Din crossed the room and your eyes widened and bit when he began to pull his shirt off. His movements were confident and it warmed your heart that he was comfortable enough with you to reveal himself like this. Your eyes trailed over the expanse of his muscular back⏤ admiring the rugged lines of his broad shoulders and the various scars that littered his skin. Din pulled a new shirt on and you expected him to come back. Instead, Din began to pull off his sweatpants. Slowly, you sat up, pulling the sheets closer to you, and you couldn’t help but let your eyes trace the shape of his lower half. You were blatantly ogling this man in his boxer briefs as he tugged on a new pair of sweats. Before turning back around, you saw him pick up his vambrace, pressing a few buttons, before setting it down once more.

Din turned around, tying the strings at his waistband, and he chuckled. His voice came out as teasing and light hearted. Clearly trying to put you at ease. “Are you checking me out, ner kar’ta?”

“I missed you so much.” You replied. Too tired, physically and emotionally, to tease back the way that you wanted to. Instead, the truth tumbled out of your lips.

He came back around to the bed and slipped under the sheets. As Din’s arm wrapped around your waist, you let him pull you back into laying down. You shifted so your head rested on his chest and Din began to drag his knuckles up and down your spine. “I missed you too. Being away from you was unbearable for Grogu and I both.” Din hummed. “He tried to stay up for you, but passed out. Grogu didn’t sleep well last night. I think my anxiety kept him up.” Your hand was resting on his side⏤ fingers dragging up and down his ribs. You mumbled into his chest. Din’s hand, the one rubbing your back, trailed up to rake through your hair. “I want to talk.”

“About?” You mumbled.

“Ner kar’ta.”

You let out a soft chuckle. “Din…”

“You don’t have to talk to me, you don’t have to tell me anything, but…” Din sighed, “I’d like to know. I want to help.” He massaged the back of your neck right where it met your skull and all your tension sat. A soft sigh left your body as you relaxed in his arms. “I sent Karga a message about Wynn. They’re going to find her. Put her to rest.” You buried your face down into his chest knowing your tears would dampen his new shirt all over again. “I just want to help.”

After a few moments of peaceful silence where you listened to Grogu’s snores and Din’s heartbeat, you turned so your face wasn’t pressed into his chest and you could speak. Hesitantly, you began to tell him what happened⏤ starting with the bombs that fell on Nevarro and ending with Paz leading you out of the burning city as you carried Elodie. The entire time Din didn’t speak. He’d mumble an acknowledgement or hum here and there, but he made no comment.

When you finished, Din finally spoke up, “Tell me why you said what you did. You said what happened to Wynn was your fault.”

“She didn’t want to go. She wanted to stay hidden and wait for help.” You closed your eyes tightly as the memory of Wynn’s lifeless eyes assaulted you once more. “If I had listened to her she might be alive. Help did come. I⏤I should have been more patient.”

“Ner kar’ta, you made that decision based on the limited information you had. You didn’t know I was coming and bringing help. Where the three of you were hidden wasn’t safe. If one of the pirates did discover you, you’d be pinned down in a hole.” Din spoke with a firmness that left no room for argument. “In that moment, you made the best decision you could. You made the right decision.” He used the arm not around you to grasp your chin and tilt your head up so you were facing his visor. “Listen to me, ner kar’ta. That was not your fault. You did not take Wynn’s life, she gave it to save Elodie. Wynn is a hero. Don’t take that from her by shouldering needless blame.”

There was something about the way Din spoke that resonated with you. His words calmed the turmoil in your soul. Din could repeat the same sentiment that anyone else would speak, but when it came from his lips it soothed your wounds like a salve. He couldn’t heal everything, there was self reflection only you could puzzle through, but he was a hand to hold as you waded through the worst of it.

“Din…” You started. Before you finished your sentence, it occurred to you that the words you wanted to say were significant. You wanted to tell Din you loved him. That’s what you felt right now. It was overwhelming. It was all encompassing.

Din still had his hand at your chin and he let his large hand shift from your chin to your jaw. He held the side of your face and let his thumb trace patterns in your skin. “Yes, ner kar’ta?”

Saying those words felt like quite the leap. You were confident in the way you felt about him and how he felt about you, but there was a part of you that couldn’t quite push the words out. You were too mentally wiped out to process those thoughts right now. Not knowing how else to express how grateful you were for this man, you turned your face so you could press a kiss to the palm of his hand.

Din let out a content sigh and he shifted his body so you could rest more comfortably against him. He hummed and you heard the rumble of it in his chest. “Get some rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.” He went back to soothingly dragging his fingers up and down your spine. “I’ll always be here.”

You let your eyes close and took a slow breath as Din’s warmth and the comforting smell of him lulled you into the best sleep you’ve gotten since Din and Grogu left.

Nevarro was in pieces. Rubble decorated the streets and buildings were in shambles. Despite how terrible it looked, Din couldn’t help but be proud of the citizens of the city he looked after. They were strong. Nevarro was already healing only days after the attack. Din walked down the street with Grogu in his arms. The boy was squirming, wanting to get down, but with the rubble and debris Din didn’t want him wandering around. As he walked down the street, every once in a while a person would pause to thank him for bringing help⏤ bringing the Mandalorians. Din would nod in response, but it would shoot a pang of guilt through his chest. He didn’t deserve thanks. He had left them after all.

Din’s steps slowed as he began to pass the school house. Outside of the building, a memorial had been set up for Wynn. Candles, flowers, and cards covered the front steps and Din found himself letting out a sigh. The school teacher was a hero. Din meant that seriously when he spoke to you. It hadn’t been your fault, absolutely not, and both you and Wynn were the reason Elodie was alive and well. Her and her parents were currently off world. The little girl needed more intensive care than could be provided here, but last Din heard the child was doing very well.

“Miss?” Grogu mumbled. Din recognized the title Grogu would call his teacher.

“Yes, ad’ika.” Din confirmed. Grogu’s ears wilted as he stared at the memorial. Din rubbed Grogu’s back and began to walk again with the goal to reach the clinic. You had left home early to go to work. You’d be there for any emergencies, per the norm, but you were also using today to see many of the people who were injured the day of for follow up. To ensure everyone was healing as they should. Din was of the opinion that you needed more rest, if not physical then mental, but trying to convince you of that was a near impossibility.

When Din reached the corner, Bo Katan pushed off a wall to join his pace. Her helmet was tucked under her arm. The Armorer had announced that the Mandalorians needed to come together rather than fall apart. It was a sentiment he could understand. Mayfeld had asked him about the helmet situation. Mandalorians coming together was a good idea, Din agreed, but coming to coincide with one another didn’t change the Creed he had dedicated himself to.

“Once this place gets cleaned up, I can see it being a nice place to live. To settle.” Bo hummed. Din nodded once, and she glanced his way. “I’m glad your partner is safe.”

“Thank you.” Din replied sincerely.

“There is something I’d like to speak to you about.”

“I figured.” He said. “Does this have anything to do with retaking Mandalore?”

Bo chuckled, “Good guess.”

“What about it?”

“Well,” Bo kept by his side, “Is there anything I can say that will convince you to come with me to reclaim my fleet from Axe Woves?”

Din didn’t pause even a beat when he answered. “No. There isn’t.”

Bo sighed in annoyance and Din briefly felt guilt at the waves of frustration wafting off of Bo’s tense frame. Half of him felt like it was his duty to help in any way to restore Mandalore, but the other half could not even begin to fathom leaving you again. It occurred to Din that this might be selfish of him. His people needed him, right? He locked his jaw at the thought.

“Your help would make this all go smoother, I think. We make a good team.” Bo said.

Din chuckled, “Did that hurt you to admit?”

“It did.” Bo smirked. “Which is why you should take it seriously.”

Din paused when the clinic came into view. He turned to face Bo and shook his head. “It’s not that I don’t want to help. Retaking Mandalore is a noble endeavor. One I would be honored to help in.” He paused. “But my family is here. I got lucky during that attack. I... I almost lost her.”

“I understand that.” Bo replied. “I know the weight of what I’m asking you, Djarin. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think it was important.”

Din glanced back to the clinic and did a double take when he saw you coming out. A smile began to form on his features, but it fell when he watched Paz walk out behind her with Ragnar by his side. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. You were wearing your white coat, a look Din truly loved on you, and Paz was chatting with you about something. Something that made you laugh in response. Since when was Paz funny?

“Didn’t know you were the jealous kind, Djarin.” Bo chuckled.

Din snapped a glare at her. “I’m not jealous.”

“It’s all over your face.”

“I’m wearing a helmet.”

“Yet somehow I still know it is.”

Din grunted in mild annoyance. He wasn’t jealous. Per say. It was just like with Vanth. Din was confident enough in his relationship with you, even as undefined as it currently was, that he wasn’t worried about someone sweeping you away. Din just had a bad habit of accidentally letting his possessive nature show and there was something about seeing his brother flirt with you that stirred him into wanting to fight.

Both you and Paz glanced down at Ragnar who must have been speaking and you set a hand on the boy’s shoulder with a smile.

“Hm. They’d make a cute family.” Bo teased.

“Stop.” Din snapped.

He was caught off guard when Grogu jumped out of his arms. Him and Bo quickly followed after the boy who was in a mad rush toward you. Din watched as his son shoved past Ragnar, making the boy stumble enough that Din had a feeling the Force was involved, before leaping into your arms.

“Oh, hey, baby.” You cooed.

“Ma. My Ma.” Grogu cuddled into your arms while shooting Ragnar a glare.

Bo glanced at Din. “Aw. Like father, like son.”

Din wished he could take his helmet off just so Bo could see the full weight of the glare he currently wore. He continued forward until your eyes shot to him and the bright smile that filled your features just from spotting him.

“What are you guys doing here?” You asked.

“Just checking in on you.” Din replied. Bo cleared her throat and Din sighed before nodding his head toward the woman standing beside him. “This is Bo Katan Kryze. Bo, this is Soran.”

You held your hand out to shake Bo’s hand and the red headed woman returned the greeting. Paz let one of his large hands settle on your shoulder and Din felt himself bristle at the motion. His older brother chuckled. “No need to worry. Wero’ika is doing more than fine.”

“Yeah, Paz brought me a late breakfast.” You chirped.

Yeah, okay, Din was going to murder him.

“Oh, hang on,” You glanced over your shoulder, “I see a problem patient walking in. I’m not gonna subject Aayla to that.”

Din nodded once and you shot Bo and Paz a smile, squeezing Ragnar’s shoulder as well despite Grogu’s complaints, and then you turned to leave. As soon as you were inside the clinic, Din turned to Paz with a grunt. “Wero’ika? What the kriff is that?”

“A nickname, Djarin.”

“Mir’sheb.” Din snarled and Paz laughed in response. Ragnar tugged on his father’s arm before pointing off to the side. Paz nodded, telling him to be cautious, before the boy ran off to play with a group of kids down the street.

Bo chuckled. “I didn’t realize this was the beginning of a love triangle. Interesting.”

“It isn’t.” Din said.

Paz tilted his head and crossed his arms. “I’m unaware of Soran being in possession of a token of intention.”

“I’m working on it.” Din said through clenched teeth.

“Perhaps, I’ll work on it faster.”

Din knew Paz was just trying to get under his skin. Part of his frustration was the fact that it was working. His hands drifted to rest on his hips as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. Paz was smug. Din had known him long enough to recognize the set of his shoulders.

“I’m⏤” Din began then cleared his throat. “I’m giving her time.”

“You’re wasting her time.” Paz argued with a chuckle. “Wero’ika⏤”

“Don’t call her that like you know her.” Din cut in. “A lot just happened. I’m not going to rush her into anything.”

He glanced from Paz to Bo then back to Paz. Din gave the man a gruff good-bye before pushing past the two of them to head into the clinic. He greeted Miriam at the front desk. Before he could cross the threshold into the main room, the young woman caught his attention and let him know that you were down the hall instead. Din furrowed his brow in confusion, but walked down to find you sitting in the break room snipping the sutures off a patient’s wound.

“Marshal.” The patient greeted with a nod that Din returned.

Grogu was playing with a latex glove on the counter while you worked. You shot him a smile before focusing back on your work. Din settled beside his son, leaning against the counter, and just admired you with a sense of calm. He wondered if Paz was right. Not a line he’d ever say out loud, but Din wondered if he was just finding another excuse to hide behind. He wasn’t sure what he was so afraid of. You’ve made your interest in him very clear, the two of you shared a bond like he’d never experienced before, but still he hesitated.

“Alright, it looks good. No need to restrict yourself, but if it starts bothering you again just let me know.” You smiled. The patient thanked you, gave him a final good-bye, then left. You wandered over to where he stood with Grogu and began to wash your hands in the sink. “Hey, so your brother seems cool.”

Din grunted. “Who Paz?”

“Yeah.” You turned the faucet off and grabbed a few paper towels. “I thought he might not like me because I yelled at him during the battle.” Din’s eyes widened. He’d have to ask about that. “But instead I think I accidentally earned his respect? Also, what does ‘wero’ika’ mean?”

Din chuckled. “Little Problem.”

Your jaw fell open. “He’s been calling me a little problem this entire time?” Din nodded. “Son of a bitch. I’m gonna need you to teach me something amusing and mildly rude to call him in return.”

“Oh, I can think of some names for him.” Din replied. He cleared his throat. “I, uh, wanted to talk to you about something, but don’t feel any pressure with this, alright?” You quirked an eyebrow at him. Your eyes briefly glanced at Grogu and you shot your hand out to snatch the latex glove from Grogu’s mouth and wagged a finger at him. “I left to redeem myself. To restore my Creed with the plans to…” Din shifted awkwardly. “To court you.” The corner of your lips curled up. “I know a lot has happened recently, so again there is no pressure here, but I wanted to…make my intentions known.”

You reached out and wrapped your hand above his elbow, between his armor plates, and gave it a small squeeze. “Din, I appreciate your patience and concern, but I⏤ I want this. I want you.” He sucked in a sharp breath. “So, just tell me how we do this. How does Mandalorian courting work? Do I sign on the dotted line or…?”

Din laughed, in part due to relief, “No. Nothing like that. I have…” He reached to the back of his belt to unhook the blade and sheath that was once his. Din brought it around to hold out to you and you stared at the blade curiously. “In Mandalorian custom, a token of intention is given to the person being courted and to accept it means accepting those advances.” Din cleared his throat again. Maker, his mouth was dry. “Tokens are usually a weapon with the person’s signet on it.”

He pulled the blade out of the sheath enough that you were able to see the mudhorn etched into the blade’s side. Din tucked the blade back into the sheath and gave you a small nod. With a bright smile, you took the blade from his hands and he felt like his heart was going to explode in his chest watching you run your finger against the mudhorn.

You held the blade against your chest and nodded. “I accept, Mandalorian.”

Grogu began to clap his hands together and you broke out into laughter that relaxed every single bone and muscle in his body. The only regret Din had was not doing this at home where he could pull his helmet off and kiss you.

mando'a translations:

ni ceta: sorry wero'ika: little problem ner kar'ta: my heart mir'sheb: smartass

taglist:

@aheadfullofsteverogers @yyiikes @kneelforloki @c-ms1ut @sgt-morgan @luthienaliceisilra @missbabyjay @coldlamaspersonspy @dilfsaremyfavourite @emily-roberts @djarinxore @impala1967666 @shelbyteller @faithrenner @dindjarindude @dankfarrick29 @garbo-lesbo @anythingforattention @tearfulsolace @onceinamando @catharinaroxastova @modiddys-blog @harriedandharassed @stagerightlauren @mini-bees @adoringanakin @sagegreensensei @spidey-3 @thepascalofus @hrtsforpascal @lil-dragon-draws @guccistardust @ideajpeg @leithatnight @elfamosotoga @damnzelsoul @the-anchored-sailor-girl @morks-watermelon @katelynmarieyt @taylorann2013 @chonkercatto @dheet @liadamerondjarin @fallinallinmendes @missdicaprio @jennaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa @alphaash99 @djarinsmixtape @pcrushinnerd @closedaddition

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #reader insert #mando x reader #mando x you #a fresh start #female reader #domestic bliss!din djarin

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rrenzwrld · 7 months

Text

secreto de amor XII

chapter 12! read chapter 11 here

you were excited about what happened with connie but you also felt guilty about it. you knew jean was overprotective over you with any guy but because his best friend would be involved, you didn’t know how different this would be. you didn’t know how to feel about the situation.

but one thing you were sure about was your feelings for connie. he brought some kind of spice in your life and everything with him felt natural, especially when you started to just embrace him as a person overall. maybe you were falling in love but you’ve been there before and the possibility of going back kinda frightened you.

“whatcha smiling at?” sasha asked while being all up on your phone as you texted connie.

“her man.” tia commented, which prompted you to send a death stare her way.

“man? you ain’t tell us you had a man? who’s the man?” you rolled your eyes before putting your phone down.

“i don’t have a man, sasha.”

“yet.” tia coughed.

“i’ll never have a man. especially after what happened with…” you couldn’t even really say his name, not like it deserved to be said anyway.

“who?” sasha looked at tia because she knew she’d have the answer.

“her ex.” she mumbled and sasha quickly understood.

“but don’t be like that! you’ll have a man, especially one that’s gonna treat you…not like how the other one treated you.”

“his name is gonna start with a c and end with an e…he’s gonna be funny and fine…he’s gonna—“

“t.”

“that’s very specific.”

“girl, we talking about connie!” you immediately shushed tia in case jean was somewhere nearby.

“ohhh! aww~i knew he was talking to somebody new, i didn’t think it was you though. cute!”

“we’re not a thing.”

“they kissed. tongue and everything. sucking each other’s faces off—“

sasha gasped. “oh my god…yall fucked?”

“no. just a kiss, calm down.”

“you saying that like it’s a bad thing. his dick little or something?”

“no, i’d just be surprised if y’all did. you’re so soft and quiet and he’s…he sells drugs.”

“okay, and? money money money~” tia sang.

“he’s cool and we kissed so i’m just tryna see if the kiss was a waste of time.” it obviously wasn’t because it occupied your mind for hours in a day but you just wanted to see if anything would come out of it or if you were just signing an invisible contract to become one of his throw-away hoes.

“evidently not, got you smiling at the phone and shit.” you threw a pillow towards tia.

“you got jokes, huh?”

“what’s going on in here?” jean came into your room.

“none of your business, why are you in here?”

“to let you know i’m going to the store and if you wanted to come?”

“so it’s just fuck us huh?” tia commented and jean narrowed her eyes at her.

“yep. you coming, y/n?” you nodded just to get out the house.

“you’re gonna leave us?” sasha stood up from the bed, pouting.

“no, i’ll be back. just take care of the house.”

you and jean went to the store to get more groceries because it was the first time since he’s been back.

you two were walking down snack aisle when you thought you saw connie with some girl and eventually you were sure it was him. they were laughing, giggling, and touching all up on each other and your heart felt like it was breaking into a million pieces. it showed on your face and jean picked up on your energy shift.

“hey, what’s wrong? you don’t like chocolate chip?” jean asked innocently as he held up a box of chocolate chip cookies.

“i’m okay. what else do we need to get?” you tried to shake the scene off but you couldn’t.

“umm…that’s it. you sure you okay?”

“yeah, can we leave now?”

“of course.” he nodded. the only time you rushed him was if something was really wrong or you didn’t wanna be somewhere so he understood. on the ride back, he did have questions but he knew not to bother you if you looked upset. so when you finally got home you went straight to your room but forgot sasha and tia were still there.

“what’s wrong? what happened at the store?” you shook your head but sasha and tia looked at each other, knowing something was wrong.

“you saw connie?” tia whispered. you were quiet so that gave away your answer. “don’t tell me he was with another bitch bruh…” you were quiet again.

“i’m sorry y/n…i can talk to him if you want. this might all be a big misunderstanding.” sasha rubbed your leg. you didn’t feel like crying or anything, you were just mad. his lil kiss started to get you into feelings you were kinda excited for but then he goes and have another bitch in his face? yeah you knew it was a waste of time.

“it is what it is,” you shrugged. “i just don’t think he’s for me.”

“don’t give up! maybe it was a cousin you saw him with or something.” tia side-eyed sasha.

“be forreal.”

“it didn’t look like a cousin. the way they were all up on each other.”

“were they kissing?” you shook your head. “at least that’s good.”

“yeah i just need to take a step back.”

“a few steps all the way back.” tia’s comment made you and sasha giggle before you all talked some more. after a few more minutes, tia and sasha ended up leaving and jean was knocking on your door.

“come in!”

“hey, you okay? you looked pretty upset earlier.” jean came in and sat on your bed.

“i’m fine. just a mood swing or something.” jean knew you were lying and was battling in his head whether or not he should ask you what he really wants to ask you.

“okay…i just have a question,” you didn’t look at him but was silent just to listen to him. “what’s up with you and connie?” your heart sank again but you couldn’t explain why if there’s truthfully nothing going on, at least not anymore.

“nothing. why?”

“i overheard yall talking about him. i just wanted to ask you just in case i misheard or whatever.”

“we kissed but we’re not dating or anything.” jean had to admit he was a bit bothered by what you told him but his priority was with you, not connie.

“okay then, just…i don’t want you getting hurt. i want your heart and mind protected and honestly, connie is not gonna be the one to do that for you. he’s my best friend and all and we’re cool but, you will always come first. i’ll always be on your side, understood?” you nodded in confirmation. luckily you hadn’t gotten that far with connie for anything to change. you hoped that outside of you, him and jean would still be friends because you didn’t wanna ruin anything for your brother.

#aot x reader #aot x black reader #black reader #connie springer #aot connie #connie springer x black reader #connie springer x black y/n

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haithamuse · 2 years

Text

☆ 06.47 AM ─── FT. ALHAITHAM

another alhaitham repost in celebration for him finally coming home ♡

cw. none, sfw ! 0.9k wc

“We’ll need to hurry up if we want to reach Port Ormos by mid day”, Alhaitham spoke his thoughts out loud with his eyes trained on the pocket watch in his hand. Earlier this morning, he stirred awake only to find the bedside empty. Uncharacteristically you had woken up before him for once, ready to go out at the crack of dawn.

“Why are you awake?”, he had asked you with his voice still groggy from sleep. He thought he must be dreaming, as you’d usually throw a fit should you be required to wake up at the same time as him. Much to the Scribe’s surprise, he was met with your unusually cheerful demeanour as you replied, “I’m gonna join you on your trip today.”

Alhaitham rose an eyebrow and his suspicion grew. What were you up to?

Silence.

“No.”

He sighed at the memory, because you had straight up ignored his words and followed him on his journey anyway. Reluctantly he then finally agreed to take you with him, because he’d rather be there to protect you if he couldn’t fight your stubbornness.

It wasn’t like he disliked travelling with you, but he didn’t like to involve you in his work. As much as he loved you, he despised how work seemed to progress slower when you were there to distract him. He didn’t like how he couldn’t say no to you, but he’d hate it even more if anything were to happen to you because of him.

Which is why despite the soft grass underneath your feet, Alhaitham immediately noticed when he didn’t hear your footsteps behind him. There was a slight edge to his voice when he turned around and called out your name.

He felt relief wash over him when he saw that you had merely stopped, though his concern resurfaced when you didn’t reply to his call. Your back was turned towards him, your figure simply overlooking the cliff before you.

“What’s the matter, love?”, he softly inquired as he approached you. As much as he disliked wasting time, all of that mattered little in comparison to your safety and well-being. You let out a sound of surprised, caught off-guard to see him standing next to you. Though quickly, your expression morphed into a smile once you spotted the figure of your partner. “Let’s stay here for a bit”, you decided, leaving his question unanswered in the process.

“Why?”, the frown on his face deepened − you’ve told him numerous times that he’ll grow wrinkles soon if he kept doing that. “Are you tired?”

Once again, you didn’t answer his question. With a giggle you shook your head and finally turned around to face your lover. “Just for a few minutes”, you pleaded. “For me, please?”

Silence ensued as Alhaitham wasn’t sure how to react. He was confused and wanted to ask more questions, but upon seeing the pleading look on your face he finally relented with a sigh. “Alright, what are you up to this time?”

You feigned offense, “Usually, I should be the one asking that!”

Your response elicited a chuckle from the man and before you could push him away in a teasing manner, he was once again a step ahead of you. In the blink of an eye you were pulled flush against his chest, a yelp escaping your throat as you grew bashful from the sudden proximity.

You stood steadfast in his grip and Alhaitham smirked down at you, seemingly satisfied with turning the tables. “Well, are you gonna tell me or not?” His voice was barely above a whisper, yet his words were crystal clear to you as you felt his hot breath on your cheeks.

You loathed how he never failed to catch you off-guard, always keeping you on your toes despite being devoted to each other. Almost as if it was second nature, your eyes flickered down towards his lips and you could swear that you saw his shit-eating grin growing further. It was way too tempting to lean down and connect your lips with his, though you didn’t relent. You were not going to let him sway you so easily.

In an instant, Alhaitham’s smirk dropped from his lips and his expression morphed into a frown once again when you pressed two fingers against his lips. “Just.. watch, okay?”, you bid him. Your voice matched the volume of his own, but his teasing tone was replaced by your soft one.

Taking advantage of the Scribe’s confusion, you wriggled in his grasp and turned around in his arms just in time to see the first rays of sunshine. You didn’t have to see the look on his face when he lifted his head to look to the horizon, as the slight hitch of breath from his throat was enough for you to know.

And suddenly, Alhaitham realised why you had insisted to come with him. He recalled a conversation you’ve had in the early stages of knowing each other − how exasperated, yet charmed you were with his demeanour.

‘You know’, the memory was etched into his brain, as if the exchange had only happened yesterday. ‘You should really stop for a second and appreciate the small things in life.’

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#alhaitham x reader #alhaitham drabble #alhaitham fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact drabble #genshin impact fluff #✰ — esther's works

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wumblr · 3 months

Note

what are those extreme chances where you have the possibi of changing other peoples minds?

lord, i don't know. i pulled my abusive mom halfway out of mormonism because she loved the idea of having children so much that it quite literally physically and medically broke her heart when i went no contact. and she still died avoiding responsibility for what she'd done, not knowing me very well at all, and saying things like "if i have a being after i'm gone," "some parents have like a sixth sense when something is wrong with their kids but i never understood that," and "my therapist said it's best not to burden children with any of that religious shit" (all signs that she did not interrogate any of the core underlying causes nor uproot the underlying beliefs. but also, signs of the half-distance she was able to cover)

obviously this did not go well and i can't say i recommend it, but i have to admit i did get further than people whose parents simply disown them. i have no explanation for why. my inability to theorize or develop a model that can explain or fix this kind of thing feels like a capital-G Great Failure. but it speaks to this unacknowledged and brutal reality that there are maybe a handful of people in someone's life who can really get them to stop, question, or pivot to change their underlying philosophy, moral core, or behavioral structure

if you acknowledge that, then you can't call shouting on the internet "activism." so i understand why people don't. because the painful truth is that we do not have any capacity to steer this sinking ship and we never did, it was always going to steer on towards war profiteering til it sank itself no matter what anybody said or did. the hard fact is that billions of people are throwing their lives away at this problem and the sum total of all their efforts is precisely nothing

i'm probably wasting my time stating this on the website where 95% of people do not read the news for their mental health because 80% of them would rather imagine fictional characters from the propaganda machine having sex. which is where they get the redemption arc shit. because they watch 70 tv shows a year that narratively hinge on these far-extremal experiences. of course i can see it would be nicer (for my mental health) to believe people can change. and i do. but i believe it's much, much, much, much rarer than anyone wants to admit, and for the vast majority of those extremely rare cases, they half-ass it. because whole-assing it involves ego death and facing mortality. which is painful, in an insultingly mundane and everyday way. you don't ever get to wake up one day having done all the work with the problem solved. that's why narrative fiction is so seductive. you get explicable character pivots and satisfying endings

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tigressaofkanjis · 4 months

Text

I heard the rumors of Transformers Earthspark maybe on the list of being cancelled for a new Transformers show and honestly, I'm quite neutral on it. It's not bad but Earthspark definitely didn't leave any impression on me, and I go into a series usually with a fresh mind. I don't like to compare off the bat. I will always give things a chance. Earthspark was one of those Transformers series that just never stuck to me no matter what I tried.

They say the cancellation may have to do with toy sales and bad reviews but the thing about the bad reviews is that they are mostly bad because of bias factors. That's in no way fair on how you are supposed to judge a series. Absolutely not. It should only come down to plot and characters interacting with the plot. It doesn't matter what their ethnicity or gender is, it's what they bring to make the show work.

Earthspark fell flat for me because of the introduction of the Terrans and the overall plot did not match what they were bringing to the table. The show would have done honestly better without them. I understand it's a kids show but you know Rescue Bots was for toddlers and they handled their plot really well for something that was made without a single Decepticon because they knew how to make their characters work in their setting. If I can't find that key element, no show works. I was fine the humans this time around which is often a problem element in Transformers. They weren't bad honestly. It's the Terrans I hated; they somehow took the qualities of human flaws and made them into a weird, worse mix.

One of the reasons I do see why it failed to appeal to children compared to the TF fans is because children are in no means more or less important than us in their opinions, but they prioritize what they need compared to what they want to keep themselves entertained. As soon as we had representation, new content, and other returning characters not used in forever in a Transformers show, it appeased what we wanted all along, but the catch is was it what the show needed against it's already experimental Terrans adding to boiling pot that is already overcooking. Children don't have the tendency to care as much as we do about connecting with their characters in this particular instance of a show with fighting robots. They like action, they like the awesome plots of the heavier shows and movies that make them pop with excitement over who wins and why. Autobots or Decepticons.

In fact, a good example of need versus want is what I said once in a post about I think the They/Them controversy with Nightshade that telling the audience directly they went by those pronouns subtracted from the character because good writing involves being able to present the fact they go by those pronouns without having to waste a minute explaining it in words. A child watching isn't going to give a shit they go by They/Them. They are going to like Nightshade by what they do and kids will memorize pronouns naturally by the effort the character makes to be involved in the plot that drives what they need out of the series to make it interesting to them. You don't have to graze a minute of this weird interjection that makes no sense explaining pronouns and as a writer, that scene kind of threw me because that was the worst way you could introduce a non-binary character...and children can tell stuff like that being off in how it is presented. if it doesn't add to the plot, throw it away and figure out another way to introduce those characteristics into your character.

So, back to the main point, you end up having all these characters that present nothing to enhance themselves other than being mostly nuisances to the main characters the kids actually wanted to see like Megatron and Optimus, so why would the general audience be interesting in buying their toys if they are forgettable? That explains your toy sales without explicitly blaming it on ethnicity or gender. As for the bad reviews, I assume the bias ones were filtered out because I have seen ones that aren't too far from my type of judgement who bring valid points as to why the show isn't the best at what it does. It had potential after that first season half, but it never seemed to really grow into something I and apparently others cared enough about. And children aren't stupid; they can kind of go by that judgement too.

Now, this is a rumor that it will be cancelled, no solid proof yet. But if it is, it's going to be less surprising than it is if it continues to Season 3. The only reason so far Season 2 exists is because it was greenlit during the first half of Season 1 which wasn't terrible per say but it had the excitement it was going to grow on you in the second half. The second part of Season 1 was...eh.

But that does raise the next question as to what this new Transformers series is and what it's going to put up against Earthspark? Is it influenced by a specific show, is it its own new thing like Earthspark's route? Will it feature humans at all? Will it be even on Earth and take Cyberverse's route in abandoning the typical Earth setting which is a route we really should start venturing into for a while in my personal opinion to kind of explore more about the world of Transformers themselves. If this new show has the better elements of what Earthspark failed to appease to its grand audience (kids, sorry TF fans), it's going to be better off. If it starts off good but falls into the same category, maybe their will be a finalized central element that can be confirmed as to what is really driving the general audiences away.

If the rumor is proven false and there is a Season 3, I will try my hardest to watch it at least once, see if it gets better than what we have currently. I said before I was going to stop watching Earthspark quite early because nothing was going for it for me but I came back to see the second half of Season 1 when it came out. I will see Season 2...but man, this is a tough show to watch.

#transformers earthspark #megatron #optimus prime #transformers #tfes #tf earthspark #earthspark

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theloveoffootball10 · 11 hours

Text

sᴛɪᴄᴋᴡɪᴛʜᴜ - ᴛ ᴡ ᴇ ɴ ᴛ ʏ ᴏ ɴ ᴇ

m a s t e r l i s t

ᴛ ᴡ ᴇ ɴ ᴛ ʏ ᴏ ɴ ᴇ

The next couple of days pass in a blur. I've barely spoken to Lando and when we have spoken it's been short blunt text messages. I'm miserable and I don't honestly know where I stand with him. I know I'm the one who walked away on Sunday but at the time it was for the best before something really damaging was said.

I've been horrible to be around, I'll openly admit that. I worked from home on Monday when I came home not wanting to face people or questions about my time in Italy because it truly was one of the worst trips of my life. Going back into work on the Tuesday I still didn't want to see anyone but I knew I couldn't hide away forever. Everyone at work knew something was wrong, I haven't been myself.

Usually in the office I'm that girl who everyone can hear. The one who sings the wrong words with confidence as the radio plays in the background. I'm the one everyone looks to when the mood needs to be boosted and how can I be that person when I can't even boost my own mood. It's now Wednesday and I've still barely heard from Lando which is starting to worry me now. I can't talk to my dad about this, he'd kill Lando or be the cause of his next on track crash which is something I don't need to deal with. I could talk to my mum, usually I would but then at the same time she doesn't need me to offload my problems onto her every time something goes wrong.

"For fuck sake!" I shout hitting my steering wheel as Lando's phone goes to voicemail, again. "Look Lando I'm not messing around. Ring me when you can be bothered and we'll discuss this like adults" ending the call I know it's probably a waste of time but I have to at least try. Throwing my phone on the passenger seat I make my way home, the traffic not helping my mood. In my head I'm trying to think of all options before I completely give up on Lando. I don't want to get Max or any of his friends for that matter involved, this isn't their issue. In my head I've made my mind up, if I don't hear from Lando by the end of the week I'll get on a plane to Monaco and make him speak to me.

Walking into the house I throw my keys on the console table and my work bag on the floor, I have no use for that until tomorrow. I'm home about forty minutes later than I usually would be thanks to the traffic and in about twenty minutes I'll have the house to myself as my mum is due to leave for work as a midwife on a night shift.

"I'm home mum" kicking my shoes off I see my mum walk out of the kitchen already dressed to leave "I'd leave early for work if I was you, traffic is really bad today roads are backed up everywhere in all directions" knowing my mum drives the same route as me I warn her.

"Thanks Lucía. Your mood doesn't sound much better than it has since Monday. I understand it can be hard when you're in a long distance relationship, no one understands more than me. If you want to talk we can" if only my mum knew the half of it! I don't want to come across as ungrateful, my mum isn't in the wrong so instead I thank her before saying a quick goodbye.

Hauling myself into the kitchen I take a long drag of my vape as I grab the bottle of white wine that is staring at me from its place in the fridge. It might be a school night but fuck it, I've had a hell of a week and it's only Wednesday. Grabbing a glass from the cupboard I go to pour myself a very large glass when a voice disturbs me.

"Hi baby" not expecting anyone to be in the house let alone Lando I drop the glass on the tiled floor causing it to shatter everywhere as I let out a scream in total and utter shock.

"What the fuck! You have just scared the shit out of me!" Lando stands up from where he's been sat on the sofa in the living area of my open plan kitchen, I don't know how I didn't see him sat there when I came into the kitchen.

"Stay there until I've cleaned the glass up. Where's the hoover?" I point to the cupboard not even able to stutter a reply. I'm speechless. Lando is here. In my kitchen.

"I...I..." I can't even form a coherent sentence as I watch Lando getting the hoover and beginning to clean the glass up that surrounds me.

"We'll talk in a minute Lucía" Lando busies himself cleaning the glass up but I don't know what to do with myself. Realising I still have the bottle of wine in my hand I unscrew the lid and take a swig from the bottle. There's a sudden nervousness that washes over me and I don't understand why Lando is here.

"Why are you here?" I ask taking a seat at the island as Lando puts the hoover away. I can't take my eyes off him, not quite able to believe he's here and stood in my kitchen.

"I know I've been an absolute dick with you and a phone call didn't quite seem good enough to be able to apologise to you"

"Lando..."

"Baby I don't want to be rude but can I just say what I need to please?" Nodding I let Lando continue "the way I have behaved with you since Sunday has been unacceptable. Yes I was angry but not at anything you did but I took it out on you and you didn't deserve that. I don't even have an excuse as to why I've barely spoken to you either, I guess you could say I was embarrassed about the way I acted. I thought you'd be completely done with me and I wouldn't be surprised if you wanted nothing more to do with me"

"I won't say it's okay because the way you acted with me was unfair however we both said things we shouldn't. I understand you were angry, you had every right to be but I won't put up with you speaking to me the way you did whether you're angry or not. I mean what I said the other day, I'm not a door mat and I won't take that kind of behaviour" I'm not unreasonable, I know people have outbursts I have them myself but I'm not prepared for this kind of fall out every time a race doesn't go Lando's way.

"I was out of order the way I spoke to you. My mum would kill me if she knew I did that. Look the last few days has been hell for me and I know it's been hell for you. Your mum told me how down you've been and I take full responsibility for that. I just want you to know I'm sorry baby. You're the last person I want to hurt and I hate myself for making you feel the way you have" holding my hand out I pull Lando closer to me so I can wrap my arms around his neck. Taking in his familiar scent I place a quick kiss on his lips.

"I'll forgive you. This time. I swear though, if this happens again I can't promise I'll be saying the same thing"

"I can live with that. I was worried there wouldn't be an us after Sunday" I rest my head on Lando's shoulder wanting to just be in his arms for a few minutes. I've missed him, even if I would have been at home and him in Monaco we still would've been speaking daily.

"There is still an us babe. How did you know where I live?" I ask knowing I haven't actually told Lando my address.

"I asked your dad. I told him I wanted to surprise you and he's the biggest supporter of us being together so he text me your address straight away. I dread to think what he would've said if he knew what I'd actually done"

"I doubt you'd be stood here now. I'm pleased you're here Lando" softly kissing Lando I run my fingers through his hair "I'm going to make us some tea, I'm starving. Is cheeseburger pasta okay with you?"

"I've never had it and I'll probably get wrong when I'm training but it sounds good" I busy myself getting everything out that I need to make our tea, turning on the speaker I connect my phone playing music on shuffle "are you seriously listening to Hannah Montana?"

"Yes is that okay with you? Anyway you know Hannah Montana?" I ask, confused Lando would know the song as soon as it starts.

"I have two sisters Lucía, of course I know Hannah Montana"

"I'm not buying the sister's excuse, for one Cisca is probably too young for Hannah Montana. Admit it you're the Hannah Montana fan and we're going to watch it once we've had tea" as I continue making tea, I can't believe how natural this feels coming home from work to Lando being here and us preparing to have tea together.

"We can watch Hannah Montana" Lando says with a shrug "Do you need me to help with anything?"

"Nope. Keep out of my way while I'm cooking and just sit there looking pretty"

"Would you throw a knife at me if I said when you were angry with me it was really fucking sexy, regardless of how angry I was at the world" Lando asks with a grin on his face.

"What do you think my answer is going to be?" Raising my eyebrow, Lando just laughs knowing I don't even have to say it "that's what I thought. While we're actually having an adult conversation I want to apologise for bringing that Alesha girl up the other day. She really pisses me off the way she flirts with you"

"I know she does and I've made it clear to her I have a girlfriend and I'm not interested in her" I believe Lando, other than talking to her Sunday briefly he's never shown an interest in ever talking to her. When she does his interviews he can't get away from her quick enough. She's like a leech, I know girls should support girls and all that but I just can't with her.

"Next time I'm at a race I'm going to come into that paddock like the wrecking ball I am and show her just who you belong to because you Lando Norris are mine"

"I'll look forward to that and you're mine, don't forget that. I got the Miley Cyrus reference there as well" Lando says shaking his head laughing "speaking of races when are you coming to the next one?"

"I don't know and that's me being honest. I'm booked for Abu Dhabi like I normally would but I need to work out which ones I can come to before then. I know after Austin it's full on and I don't want to wait that long to be at a race again. I'd miss you too much" it's nearing the last few races of the season and they're all long distance races to get to. I know I can't go over a month without seeing Lando but I need to find a way to make it work around work. My only option right now is getting a flight on a Friday night and flying home basically straight after the race on the Sunday. I already know it will be exhausting but I have to play my part in making this work.

"I'd miss you too, maybe just maybe this might be a good time for you to let me arrange a private jet for you on some weekends" normally I'd knock back the idea of a private jet straight away but it feels like it might be the only way Lando and I will be able to see each other more often. Putting a plate of food in front of Lando I agree to think about flying private. If he has a chance of winning the WDC, I want to be there as much as I can.

landonorris

Like by maxfewtrell, livdavies and 579,403 others

landonorris reunited with my girl 🤍

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fernandoalonso watch where that hand is wandering Norris!

↪️ esmelucia sorry not sorry papá 🤷🏼‍♀️

user39 imagine being called my girl by Lando Norris 🥹

↪️ user429 I’d die happy

user193 she’s made the grid its fully official now

↪️ user203 lets see how long it lasts

#formula one fanfiction #formula one smut #lando norris #lando norris fanfic #lando norris smut #lando norris x oc #formula 1 #formula 1 fanfic #formula one #lando #formula 1 smut #formula one fanfic #formula 1 fanfiction #lando smut

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kallystah · 1 month

Text

|17| Surprise little chicks

700 words

The eldest sitting on the living room carpet while the youngest lingered over the task the latter had asked him to do, they chatted nicely in front of their favorite TV series, which was none other than the beginnings of reality TV. Using his comb to separate his brother's locks to apply the coloring to his roots, the second continued to criticize the man playing his role while the eldest calmly ate his popcorn next to the pile of clothes stained with dried blood from their previous outing…

Indeed, it's no secret that Haitanis are not cleanliness freaks compared to their parents, who, every time they came back for a few days between two trips, always ended up killing them with all this noise, which was not so disastrous, they told themselves, without knowing, however, the unhealthy activities of their children, which were always well hidden.

Unfortunately, today the apartment seemed surely too wise and good-natured for the superior beings who had decided to involve destiny. It is true that not really wanting to answer their mother in the middle of fighting, he had forgotten to call her back a week ago and had not taken the time to listen to the voicemail. But wandering on his portal after having moved the black dye away from him, the one with the blue-colored locks listens to this message while taking from the food package that his brother kindly hands him. Nevertheless, both hearing the message at the same time, they choke violently before exchanging a panicked look.

"Hello my chicks, your father and I are coming to say hello to you on Thursday afternoon!"

-Ho shit.

-You take care of the living room and the kitchen, I'll take care of the laundry. Orders the eldest, panicking throughout the apartment in search of the dirty and bloody clothes scattered around, most of the time almost falling because of getting tangled up in them.

For his part, the youngest focuses on cleaning the surfaces in need and allows himself to throw the waste to his brother armed with a garbage bag to get rid of the corpses of beers and junk food that their parents hated.

The dreaded footsteps echoing in the space, on the stairs, in the hallway then stopping in front of the door, at the sound of the keys turning in the lock, the two panicked boys rush towards it, jostling each other without wanting to. Rindou having been thrown by his brother who had slipped ends up responding by crushing his foot violently as the door opens. Unable to shout, the latter turns red, letting out an unmanly cry while the other puts his glasses on his nose, proud, ready to welcome.

-Surprise my chicks! Their mother greets them, so happy to see them, taking them in her arms with force to show them the love she gives them despite the fact that they are never there.

-What a surprise… They say, a forced smile still out of breath from their intense effort.

Unfortunately, detaching themselves from their mother who pinches their cheeks as if she still had young children in front of her, they are all three stopped by the father who has gone around the apartment.

-Can I know why there is a baton on the couch?

Addressing each other a panicked look, the two brothers try to find a reason as quickly as possible but just as valid. But, unfortunately it was the youngest who found an explanation.

In a few words: never let Rindou explain a phenomenon to his parents.

-Ran has strange fantasies that we can't understand as a normal person dad, don't bother.

-Ran? The two parents wonder in shock, turning towards the one who was glaring at his brother, trying to remain neutral despite his strong amusement.

-Surprise. He tries behind, not knowing what to say in this situation.

-Your chick does weird things mom. The two-tone whispers before leaving, leaving his brother alone to be questioned relentlessly about fantasies that he only knew the names of.

-My god my chick has grown up and is doing adult things. She cries as the black-haired man tries to discredit this statement as best he can.

~~~chapter 17 end-

masterlist tkr

#manga #behindthedoor #tokyo revengers #haitani ran imagines #haitani rindou #rindou haitani #ran haitani #haitani rindou x reader #haitani headcanon #haitani imagines

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monsterfuker3000 · 2 years

Text

He’s on Fire (Option D)

Eddie Munson x Reader

Warnings: heavy, heavy smut. Implied abuse. Reader is cheating on abusive husband. Reader has female genitalia. Unprotected sex (do as I say not as I do, kids.) No use of Y/N. No beta read we die like men.

Word count: 8049

Enjoy :>

You’re married. Jesus, you're married, for God’s sake. This is not something Eddie should have to remind himself of, but here was, intently watching you, his pretty neighbor (two doors down and around the corner, mind you,) hang your laundry on the little clothesline outside your trailer. Yours, and your husband’s. You know, the one you’re very much married to.

Denny. The absolute bane of Eddie’s existence. At least twenty years your senior, by his estimate, and about two hundred pounds heavier. He wonders what in the world you could possibly see in a guy like Denny. Not only was he wildly disgusting, but Eddie could tell he wasn’t treating you well. At least, not as well as Eddie would treat you.

He knew Denny left you alone far too often. Nearly every night, since he worked the night shift doing “waste management” (what sort of waste anyone would be managing in the middle of the night, Eddie could not fathom. However, he was far too disinterested to ask,) and literally every weekend he left for a “fishing trip” with his buddies, rain or shine. Though, judging by the crumpled receipts and parking stubs that Eddie often found discarded carelessly in your driveway, he deduced that Denny was very probably not on fishing trips over the weekends, since there isn't much fishing to be done at casinos and short stays in pay-by-the-hour motels.

Eddie kept these receipts in a shoebox in his room labeled ‘Asshole Evidence,’ torn between showing you this box and keeping it hidden forever. It was a horrible secret to keep, and the knowledge of even having this box in his room made him feel sick, but he knew he couldn’t just throw it away. He knew he would show it to you someday. Probably. Possibly. Maybe.

Eddie was hesitant to reveal your husband’s weekend expenditures because he knew it would probably go one of two very different ways. Option A, the good option in Eddie’s mind, you would pack your shit and leave Denny immediately. Divorce him, take him for all he had, absolutely ruin him. The possibility of Option B, however, hung over Eddie like a dark cloud. He’d pictured it many times while waffling over his little moral dilemma.You’d scream. You’d cry. You might even break a few things, but you would pull yourself back together, the picture of a perfect little wife. You’d clean up the aftermath of your meltdown and cook dinner for Denny like nothing had happened. You’d stay with him forever, the knowledge of his lies and infidelities hanging over your head all the while. As long as you both shall live, as the vows usually go.

Thinking of the terrible Option B made Eddie sick as well. A lot of things involving Denny made Eddie sick, to be honest. However, his most immediate concern was the fact that you were alone so often. A very pretty girl, constantly alone in a trailer with a very, very shitty lock. Therefore, Eddie began his nightly vigils.

He told himself he was only watching your trailer like a hawk because he was worried about you, and definitely not because you had a habit of walking around in very little clothing when you thought no one could see you, (not that this detail didn’t help.) Watching you from afar, however, only satisfied Eddie for so long, and he had decided he had gone long enough without telling you about Denny that if he waited much longer it would look bad for him, which is why one Saturday afternoon, when he could be sure Denny wouldn’t interrupt, he finally worked up the guts to head over and formally introduce himself to his neighbor.

Eddie knocked on your door with a tray of cookies in hand that he had very clearly not baked himself, but it’s the thought that counts, right? He figured repackaging a few store bought cookies would be more appreciated than him trying to fire up the oven for the first time in God knows how long, and if he was going to break upsetting news to you, you might want some sweets. A few particularly incriminating receipts he’d picked up from your driveway over the past few months practically burned a hole in the pocket of his acid-wash jeans.

He heard you practically bound across your small living room in an effort to get to the door in a timely manner, and when you opened the door with what Eddie thought to be far too much enthusiasm, he realized he’d never actually gotten around to coming up with something to say to you. Unfortunately the best thing he could come up with in the moment was to stare dumbly at you and use every ounce of his willpower to keep his eyes on yours, and not the low-cut tank top you had answered the door in.

When several very awkward moments passed with no introduction from Eddie, you decided to speak first.

“Oh, hello! What can I do for you, uh…”

“Um, Eddie!” he finally managed. A momentous feat indeed.

You laughed, thank God. “Well in that case, what can I do for you, Um-Eddie?”

He chuckled at the joke. Low hanging fruit. He wished he could say he didn’t know your name, and hadn’t asked around the neighborhood like some kind of stalker, but that’s precisely what he did. He decided that this was a detail you didn’t necessarily need to know.

“‘Eddie’ by itself is fine. And what might your name be, m’lady?” He followed this question with a bow and a grand flourish of his arm. You laughed once again at his theatrics, and he very suddenly concluded that it was a sound he absolutely needed to hear more of. When you introduced yourself, he came to the conclusion that the way your name sounded on your own lips was one of the most beautiful things he’d ever heard.

“Well,” Eddie continued, “I just came by to drop off these cookies for ya, neighbor! (‘Good lord,’ he thought to himself.) I noticed you just moved in about, well, six months ago, I suppose…” he trailed off, scratching his head almost cartoonishly. Not to be deterred by his own poor planning, he continued. “I guess I’m a little late for the housewarming party, but would you care for some expertly baked desserts?” He nodded his head toward the plate in his hand and noted that the grocery store bakery had really started skimping on chocolate chips.

You smiled warmly at him, and Eddie’s heart soared. “Absolutely! There’s no way I’m eating all of those by myself, though. Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee?”

Eddie, surprised at the sudden and easily acquired invitation, accepted. You held the door open for him, and he stepped inside.

He noticed immediately that your trailer was actually rather homey. Lived-in, but not in a messy way. There were plants and knick-knacks on nearly every available horizontal surface, and the couch and recliner in the living room were not lacking in the throw pillow and blanket department. The kitchen was small, as all trailer kitchens are, but very neat. You pulled a filter and a small can of coffee out of one of the cupboards, and started on the coffee maker.

As you busied yourself with the coffee, Eddie realized that you had literally just let him, a practical stranger, into your home. The home you’re alone in every night. He wondered where in the world you had left your sense of self-preservation, if you ever had one in the first place.

“You know,” he mused. “I could totally be an ax-murderer, and you just let me into your house without a single question”

You glanced skeptically at him over your shoulder. “ You’re wearing jeans and a t-shirt, Eddie, I figure if you’ve managed to hide an ax somewhere on your person, you deserve a chance at murdering me. That would be an impressive feat.”

Eddie stared blankly at you and sat at your kitchen table, setting the plate of cookies down, waiting for his coffee, and pondering how you could possibly have gone this long without a home invasion. You brought over two cups of coffee, a little carton of half-and-half, and a container of sugar, and sat at the table across from him.

“So,” he began, scooping a slightly concerning amount of sugar into his coffee, “I’m going to be honest with you. I didn’t think you were going to invite me in. I have no idea what to talk about. I was prepared for a drive-by cookie drop off, not conversation.”

You laughed. Again. It was a beautiful sound.

“I’ll admit I wasn’t really prepared for company either. The only person I really talk to anymore is my husband.”

“Oh, your husband? What’s his name?” he asked, sipping his coffee that was much too hot to be drunk yet in an effort to hide his frown. He knew the bastard’s name plenty well.

“Denny,” you replied, dropping your smile. Not the response one would expect from someone who particularly liked their spouse. You changed the subject abruptly. “So, what do you do for work?”

Eddie cringed, knowing that being a super-super senior wasn’t necessarily a good look. “I’m actually not working right now, I’m on my third go of senior year.” He avoided your eyes, not wanting to see the usual judgment and surprise he got from most people at this revelation. “I’m pretty confident I’ve got it this year, though!” he added. “I’ve been spending more time studying and less time doing, um, extracurriculars.”

You leaned forward, picking up on his discomfort when it came to this subject. “Hey, don’t feel too bad. You’re looking at a college dropout turned waitress. Not everyone is cut out for academia. Doesn’t mean we’re stupid or anything”

This was incredibly refreshing to Eddie, who was used to pitying looks or laughter when this subject of conversation came about.

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right. Someone has to make the moderately disappointing kids look better in the eyes of their parents, too.” You laughed at this, and Eddie was thankful he’d put a smile back on your face.

“So, Eddie,” you began with a sly smile. “What are these ‘extracurriculars’ you mentioned earlier?” Eddie froze for a second, pondering just how many laws he felt like admitting to breaking tonight.

An hour and two cups of coffee later, Eddie knew he had to suck it up and tell you what he really came for. The two of you had gotten comfortable with each other lightning quick, and were talking as if you’d known each other forever, but he knew it was time, as much as he hated to have to ruin your mood. He knew this was going to be difficult for both of you, he already couldn't stand to see you upset, but it felt like he was lying to you. So, he coughed lightly and began to dig around in his pocket for the receipts.

“I have a confession. I didn’t come here just to bring you cookies. There’s something I think you should know.” You tilted your head, looking puzzled, and Eddie thought you looked just like a confused puppy. It definitely wasn’t helping, but he forced himself to continue. “I, well, I’ve found a few things in your driveway over the past few months, things I don’t think Denny wanted you to see, but I feel awful knowing this and not telling you.”

He pulled the receipts out of his pocket and laid them in front of you. He made sure to include the first and latest receipts to show you that his weekend activities had been going on for a while and had very much not stopped.

You frowned, looking at the evidence laid out on your kitchen table. “Oh. So the whole neighborhood knows my husband is a slut, too. Great. He forgets to take his receipts out of his pocket almost every Sunday and I end up having to take them out before I do laundry,” you hummed. “I’d hoped he’d at least been containing his little paper trail to the house.”

Eddie’s jaw dropped. You knew? You, beautiful and gentle and kind, knew your husband was out fucking prostitutes and you were just fine with it?

He was speechless. You shrugged and picked up the last cookie. You took a bite and only then remembered your manners.

“Oh, shit, did you want this?” you asked, mouth full of half-chewed chocolate chip cookie.

“What the fuck?” he asked.

“Woah, dude, I’m sorry. I’ll make you more if it’s that big of a deal.”

“Jesus, I’m not talking about the cookie. I’m talking about the fact that your husband that’s twice your age is whoring around every weekend and you seem to be totally cool with it.” He still hadn’t quite managed to fully pick his jaw up off the floor.

You shrugged. Again. You seemed to do that a lot when talking about things people wouldn’t normally shrug off.

“I mean, it’s not my favorite aspect of him, but there really isn’t much I can do about it. Why would I spend time worrying about something I’d never be able to talk him out of? And for the record” you continued, crossing your arms, “he’s not twice my age. He’s forty, I’m twenty-two.”

Eddie was still practically speechless, possibly for the very first time in his life, both because you were seemingly fine with this and also because he was taken aback that the thing you seemed most upset about was that he had guessed your age difference incorrectly by two years. This was not going the way he had expected, and this horrifying Option C you’d gone with rattled him. He had no idea what to say to you next, and decided he needed to leave and regroup before his brain melted out of his ears.

“Oh. Well. That-that’s fine. Oh, wow! Look at the time, it’s getting late, I think I’ll head home now, good night!” He said all of this while rather ungracefully tripping his way to the front door, and you had a front row seat the whole time from your spot at the kitchen table. You laughed a bit at the cliché ‘look at the time’ line, and got up to lock the door behind him. You watched out your window as Eddie confusedly made his way back to his own trailer, and when you were sure he wasn’t able to see you, you finally let yourself fall to the floor and sob.

It had been three days since Eddie’s botched intervention, and he still hadn’t seen you leave your trailer. He knew he had to check on you, just to see if you were alright, of course, not because he missed seeing you even from afar. Definitely not because of that. So in an attempt at offering an olive branch he wasn’t even sure was necessary, he made his way back over to your trailer after Denny left for work, plate of brownies in hand this time.

He knocked on your door, rather tentatively this time, and once again, you answered almost immediately. You smiled at him this time too, but it was much more strained than the last time. Eddie looked down at you from your doorway, holding his offering.

“Brought brownies this time.”

You smiled a bit wider, which eased Eddie’s nerves. He made it his mission to get you to laugh, really, truly laugh, before he left.

“Come on in, Eddie. I’ll put on some more coffee.”

“Stability? That’s it?” Eddie questioned incredulously. “You never loved him at any point?”

“I figured I’d learn to love him, I suppose,” you answered. “Besides, a roof over my head was a bit higher than love on my list of priorities at the time.”

You had spent the last hour and a half regaling Eddie with the story of how you came to be married to Denny. How your parents had kicked you out the moment you turned eighteen, how you’d lived out of your car for a year before meeting Denny at your waitressing job, how you’d married him for the promise of a home and someone to take care of you. You never asked for nor even expected faithfulness from Denny, and you knew he really only kept you around for the social status that having a pretty, young wife gave him, and it wasn’t like he hit you. Often. You didn’t share this last detail with Eddie, and he was still floored that you expected so little.

“So you just, do everything for him? Jesus, he treats you more like a live-in maid than a wife. Come on, you know you could do so much better than that. Don’t you have any friends you could move in with, at least temporarily? Until you can divorce his sorry ass, I mean.”

You scoffed, unsurprised that Eddie thought it would be so simple.

“Denny doesn’t really let me have friends, and I don’t really have time to go out and make them.”

This upset Eddie. For Denny to expect to have any right to tell you what you could and couldn't do with your life? He was surprised you never poisoned his lunch.

“Well,” he said, “I’m your friend now, and you didn’t even have to go out and find me. Pretty convenient, huh?” he said with a smile.

“My friend, hm?” you mused, finger on your chin while you pretended to think. “I suppose that’s acceptable.”

Eddie was ecstatic, but he would never tell you that, nor anyone else for that matter.

“Well, as your friend, I think it’s my duty to come over after your pig husband leaves to help you with housework and keep you company.”

You furrowed your brows, concerned that spending time with you would keep him from other things he’d rather be doing.

“Oh, Eddie, you don’t have to do that.”

“Of course not, but I want to,” he replied with a goofy grin. You couldn’t help but laugh at his expression, and he soon joined you, finding you laughter contagious.

Thus began Eddie’s nighttime rendezvous to his neighbor’s house.

Eddie was totally screwed. Completely screwed. He could even pinpoint the exact moment he became so, so horrifically screwed.

Eddie’s visits to your house in the absence of Denny had started as a once-every- two-or-three-days thing, but soon turned into nightly occurrences and what started as simply helping you with housework soon turned to dinners and movie nights, telling jokes, swapping life stories, and even a few sleepovers. Eddie spent these particular nights on the couch with his hands to himself, of course. The two of you had very quickly become best friends.

Unfortunately for poor Eddie, one Friday evening, tired from a busy workweek, you fell asleep in the middle of some third-rate horror movie he’d rented earlier that day. This wouldn’t normally be a problem, and had in fact happened several times before, but this time you sealed Eddie’s fate with one simple accident. You fell asleep on his shoulder. Cheesy, right?

Eddie had felt your head hit his shoulder, but was too engrossed in the movie to truly notice. About ten minutes later, however, when you nuzzled into his chest like a cat, it was like he was struck by lightning.

Jesus Christ, he was in love with you. He’d been attracted to you from the very beginning, sure, but he wasn’t in love. Was he? Surely his only motivation for counting down the minutes until your husband left was because he enjoyed your company as a friend, of course. He definitely didn’t spend nearly every unoccupied moment looking forward to seeing you at night because he was in love with you, absolutely not.

God, he was so screwed.

He carried you to bed that night and left immediately. He felt like he was suffocating, sitting in your house that you owned with the man you married, surrounded by reminders of the fact that you did not live there alone. He was glad that it was a Friday, because he didn’t sleep at all that night.

He had to tell you. He felt tortured after just one night of reaalization, and he was afraid he might actually explode if he spent more time with you. He had to tell you and get out of there, even if he really was your only friend. Even if you leaned on him. Even if he loved you.

He knocked on your door in broad daylight for once, knowing Denny was gone for the weekend. You answered the door, surprised to see an incredibly tense looking Eddie on your doorstep.

“We need to talk.”

“Alright, come in. What's the matter?”

He pushed past you into your house like he was in a rush to get somewhere. This concerned you, as it was very out of character. Especially the wild pacing he took up across your kitchen floor.

“Jesus, Eddie, sit down. You’re going to trip over something.”

Eddie sat in a dining room chair with so much force that you half expected it to break under him.

“I can’t do this anymore. I can’t do this with you.”

This was not something you had expected.

“What?” you asked. “What are you talking about?” Your voice raised in pitch just slightly, this was scaring you.

“I can’t keep coming to your house while your husband is away. It’s not appropriate. You’re married.”

“This isn’t the 1800s, Eddie, you can come to my house whenever. What made you start caring about this after six months?” You were starting to tear up at this point, there was no trace of the fun, easygoing boy you had gotten to know in the stoic man that now sat before you.

Eddie stood and walked towards your door.

“I guess I just had some kind of an epiphany. I’m going to leave now, I’m sorry.”

“Not without explaining yourself. Why have you just now decided to give a shit that I’m married to Denny?” You were crying at this point, tears rolling down your face as you tried to regulate your breathing. The only friend you’ve had in years was trying to walk out of your life, permanently. You weren’t letting him go without a fight

“I’ve already explained myself. I won’t be coming over anymore. I’m sorry.” His voice became more and more strained as he said this, and tears began pooling in his eyes as well. He wiped them away before they fell.

“Jesus, It’s like you're possessed! You never talk like this, what’s really going on? You have to tell me, you owe me that much.” You were distraught at this point, using every ounce of your willpower to keep yourself from just screaming. You grabbed him by the arms and he froze.

“I love you,” he whispered, so quietly you thought you might have imagined it.

“What did you just say?”

“I love you. I love you. I love you, God I love you!” By the end of his declaration he was practically yelling. “I love you and you’re married! You have no intention of leaving him, and that’s your choice, but watching you stay with him, watching you destroy yourself, it’s destroying me.” He had wiggled gently out of your grasp and had pressed his back against your front door, left hand resting on the doorknob. “I can’t keep coming to the house you share with him, sitting at the table you share with him watching you get into the bed you share with him, it makes me fucking sick, and it’s because I love you.”

“God, Eds, you are so fucking stupid.”

“What?” Now it was Eddie’s turn to be confused. He didn’t have much time to consider what you had just said, however, because you grabbed him by the front of his faded t-shirt and kissed him.

You pulled back after a moment, and wondered how his eyes could possibly be open that wide and still be contained in his eye sockets.

“I said you’re fucking stupid. I love you too, have for a couple of months. I think it happened the night we watched that stupid movie musical I picked. You never complained once, and I know you lied about liking it, but I knew I loved you then, and I know I love you now. I don’t want to be with Denny, I just didn’t know where I could possibly go if I left him. I want to be with you, Eds.” You looked up at him as he stared blankly ahead and could practically see the gears turning in his head as he tried to process this information. Then, the lightbulb went on, and he met your eyes again.

“I’ve got to say, you’re kind of stupid yourself, then.” He grabbed both sides of your face and pulled you in for another kiss, practically smashing your lips together. One hand moved from your face down to your back, and he pressed you fully against his body, making you moan. He used this fantastic opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss.

You regained your senses yet again, and reached up to thread your fingers through his long curly hair and pulled gently. He bit down lightly on your lower lip and moaned, and you pulled again, hard. He threw his head back slightly and practically keened.

Eddie went back in for another kiss, and you walked backward back into the kitchen, pulling him with you, until your legs hit the table. As if he could read your mind, he slid both hands down to the backs of your thighs, pulling you up and placing you on the very edge of the table. You spread your legs and he stepped closer to grind against you slightly, and you felt his cock pressing against your thigh, already straining against the dark ripped jeans he had picked up off his bedroom floor this morning in an effort to get to your house as soon as possible.

You wrapped your legs around him and rocked against him harder, and he hissed through his teeth. He finally pulled away from your lips, only to continue the kisses down your neck, playing with the hem of your shirt all the while. You got the hint, and lifted your arms up so he could pull your shirt off. He lifted it gently over your head and threw it to the kitchen floor. He returned his gaze to you and could have sworn the view took away a couple of years of his lifetime.

The bra you were wearing was pretty, black with just a little lace along the tops of the cups, but he wanted it off. He reached around and fumbled with the clasps in the back until you laughed and reached back to help him. You finally unclipped the bra and let the straps fall down your shoulders, and he groaned as you threw the bra in the general direction your shirt had been tossed.

“Jesus, your tits are perfect,” he muttered, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly at the absolute reverence in his eyes. He pulled his eyes up towards yours and slid his hands up your waist toward your tits, stopping just under them and lightly stroking the undersides with his thumbs.

“Can I …?”

“God, please.”

That was good enough for Eddie. He slid his hands upward to cup your breasts, and squeezed. He dipped his head to suck your right nipple while he pinched and rolled at the left, before alternating to the other side. One particularly hard pinch made your hands fly up into his hair and your hips buck. He laughed, and it was muffled, because he absolutely refused to pull away from your nipple.

He moved his lips slightly to the left of your nipple and bit and sucked at the soft skin there before soothing it with his tongue. He pulled away with a wet popping sound when he was satisfied and ran his thumb over the dark hickey he had left on your breast, admiring it.

“Hmm, pretty,” he hummed.

“Eddie?”

He looked up.

“Yeah, pretty girl?”

“I want you to fuck me.”

“Okay,” he breathed, still not quite believing this was actually happening to him. “I can do that.” When he didn’t move, you laughed softly and poked him lightly in the chest. “Oh. Yeah. Um, Where…?”

“Bedroom?” you asked.

“Yeah, bedroom. Good idea,” he answered, still slightly dazed but more confident. “Come here, pretty.” He hooked one hand under each knee again and gave you a chance to wrap your arms around his neck before lifting you off the table. As he carried you down the hallway, you set to work on leaving your own hickey on his neck, only pulling away to mumble ‘end of the hall’ when Eddie paused, forgetting which doors led where. He pushed the door open with his foot and laid you down gently on the bed before stepping away to get a good look at you.

You sat up, suddenly aware of the unfairness of your respective states of dress; you were down a shirt and a bra, and he was still fully clothed. You decided to even the scales.

“Come here, baby,” you said, reaching for him. He stepped closer, within your reach. “Can I take this off for you?” you asked, beginning to pull up the bottom of his shirt. You glimpsed a bit of hair right above his belt and prayed that you’d be able to get more clothes off of him soon.

He stepped back a bit to slowly pull his shirt off himself, letting you stay seated on the bed. He came closer when you reached out for him again to run your fingers across a few of his tattoos, admiring him.

“I want to do something for you,” he said, breaking the silence.

“Whatever you want, sweet boy. What do you want me to do?”

“Just sit tight, pretty girl, I’ll do all the work,” he said with a grin. He glanced around the room, spotting a hair tie on your nightstand and grabbing it to pull his hair back into a ponytail. He returned to the end of the bed where he had set you down and pulled you closer to the edge. He reached for the button of your jeans and ghosted his fingers over it before looking back up at you.

“I’m gonna take these off, is that alright?” You nodded, and he popped the button, pulled the zipper down, and worked the pants down your legs. He decided to throw yet another item of your clothing onto the floor. “Just lay down and get comfortable, you can lay your head on a pillow if you want. Whatever feels good for you.”

You pulled a pillow down from the head of the bed and pulled it under your head, waiting for whatever was next. Eddie knelt on the ground and gently pulled your legs up over his shoulders. He reached for your pussy and ran a single finger over the crotch of your panties, pressing a little harder over your clit. You gasped.

“Mmm, all wet. This for me, pretty?” he asked, very obviously pleased with himself.

“Yes, God, all for you, Eddie. Please touch me.”

Eddie decided he wasn’t in the mood for teasing. He stood again and hooked his fingers under the waistband of your panties and looked up, silently asking for permission yet again.

“Please, whatever you want to do,” you begged.

He relented and pulled your panties down your legs so, so slowly. It was agonizing waiting for them to come off, but he finally got them down to your ankles and completely off. It was not lost on you that your panties made their way into his jeans pocket instead of joining your pants on the floor.

“Fucking perv,” you laughed.

“Yeah, and you love it,” he replied, smiling down at you. He kneeled back on the ground and hooked your legs over his shoulders yet again, pulling you all the way to the end of the bed.

He changed his mind. Just a little teasing wouldn't hurt. He used two fingers to spread your pussy, looking so intently it reminded you of a scientist studying some kind of rare creature, and brought the index finger of his other hand up to drag along one side and down the other, pressing your clit again.

“Such a pretty fucking pussy, all for me, huh?” All at once, he removed both hands and rested them on the outside of either thigh.

“What are you- oh my fucking God,” you gasped.

You had begun to question what he was doing as he buried his face between your thighs, but when he licked a long stripe up your pussy from bottom to top with the flat of his tongue and followed this by wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking, you decided you weren’t in the mood for asking questions anymore. You were so surprised by the sensation that you tried to close your legs around his head, but he wrapped both arms around your thighs and pulled them back apart.

As Eddie swirled his tongue around your clit, he had two thoughts. The first was that he had realized that you were actually confused, like you had no idea what he was going to do. He felt bad for not explaining his intentions, but another thought plowed through his mind like a freight train.

Jesus, the old bastard had never eaten you out. You poor, poor thing. He knew just how to take care of you.

Eddie was going to rock your fucking world.

He decided that pinning down only one leg was just fine, because he absolutely needed one of his hands. While alternating between circling and flicking at your clit with his tongue, he let go of your left leg, which you immediately hooked around him to pull him in closer. Perfect. He used the middle finger of his now free hand to slide into your pussy, damn near all the way to the third knuckle, and he curled it to press into your g-spot.

You almost doubled over.

The sound that left your lips was heavenly and jarringly loud, but Eddie had to pull away for just a moment, both to check that you were still breathing and to mutter ‘Shit, so fucking wet, went in so easy,’ under his breath before reattaching his lips to your clit. You were white-knuckling the duvet he’d laid you on and he’d barely touched you, and he felt awful for you. He concluded it was his personal responsibility to take care of you the way you deserved.

He added his ring finger and began to slide the two fingers in and out of your pussy at a mercifully slow pace. He pulled his mouth away from you once again, and laid his head against the leg he was holding down. He’d decided you could stand just a little more teasing.

“Oh, pretty girl, has nobody been taking care of you?” he asked, with a hint of playful condescension. You choked out a ‘no.’ Hmm. Still able to form words. Not good enough. He took the hand that was holding down your leg and reached all the way around your thigh to lick his thumb. He pressed it against your clit and made gentle, tight circles, while simultaneously speeding up the fingers of the other hand and curling them once again. You nearly sprang off the bed, and he continued.

“Nobody’s been playing with this pretty little pussy? So soft and wet and warm. Baby, if you were mine, I wouldn't be able to stay out of it, I’d do anything to be inside you.”

This time, all you could manage was emphatic nodding and moans so raw they seemed to be coming from your soul. Perfect. Eddie decided you’d had enough.

“You wanna cum, pretty? You can cum, it’s alright.” He removed his thumb and placed his mouth over your clit once again. You let go of the duvet and grabbed his hair again, pulling it slightly out of the ponytail, and began grinding against his mouth, your legs practically vibrating. He hummed appreciatively, both at the hair pulling and the knowledge that you were very, very close to climaxing.

This vibration was all you needed to tip you over the edge you’d been teetering on, and you came, hard. Eddie worked you through your orgasm, slowing his fingers and his tongue but only stopping when you pulled him away by the hair. He pulled back and stood to help you move up further on the bed and sit up, his lips and chin shiny.

“Too much?” he cringed, worried he might have pushed you too far. He took the time to fix his loosened ponytail.

“Just a little,” you huffed, trying to catch your breath. “I’m alright now.”

“You sure? You don’t have to say that if you aren’t.”

“Absolutely.”

Eddie desperately wanted to kiss you. You looked so beautiful sitting there, sweaty and out of breath and looking totally fucked-out, so he leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. You could taste yourself on him, slightly tangy, and you tasted good. You pressed your legs together for a bit of friction. You wanted more. You wanted his cock.

Still unable to string together a sentence of any considerable length, you decided actions would have to be enough. You reached for Eddie’s belt buckle, confused when he stepped away and shook his head.

“I don’t expect anything in return. We don’t have to go any further than this if you don’t want to,” Eddie said. The strain he was putting on the front of his jeans, however, told you that it was taking a lot out of him to offer to walk away. You laughed, and once again, Eddie loved it.

“Eds, I already told you I want you to fuck me. The offer still stands, if you’d like to take it.”

God in Heaven, would he like to take it.

Unfortunately for him, due to most of his blood residing in the head below his belt instead of the one on his shoulders, he seemed lost as to how to continue. Luckily for him, you’d gained some brain function back. You took the opportunity to take a good look at the man in front of you for the first time since he’d taken off his shirt. He was muscular, not in the way someone would be if they worked out at the gym, but he was nicely built from occasional physical labor. His chest was hairless, but a happy trail started just above his navel, light near the top and growing darker and thicker as it traveled down. He had two mirrored bat tattoos, one on each side of his hip. This surprised you; you knew about his other tattoos, but not this more intimate one. You wondered if you’d see others.

Snapping out of your trance, you reached out for him, and he stepped closer, taking your hand.

“You’re sure about this?” he questioned. “I know we’re both kind of riding a high here, and I don’t want to take advantage, and I don’t want you to regret it later, and I-“

You cut him off. “No more ‘ands,’ Eds. Put your hands on me. Please.”

This seemed to snap him out of whatever was clouding his head, and he took a deep breath.

“Alright,” he breathed. “Before we start, I want to ask. Do you want to use a condom?”

“That’s completely up to you, Eds. I trust your judgment. I’m on the pill, and I get tested regularly. Denny hasn’t touched me since I got my last negative result.” Eddie nearly softened at the mention of your husband’s name, but shook it off the best he could.

“I’m clean as well. Should we go without?”

You smiled. “Please, God,” you replied breathlessly. Eddie’s cock jumped as he heard you practically beg him to fuck you raw. You couldn’t wait anymore, you were starting to drip on the duvet and your pussy practically ached. You needed to get the ball rolling again.

You leaned back once again, bringing your knees up and spreading your legs. You let your hand travel down to your core, middle and ring fingers dipping into your pussy to collect the wetness and bringing them back up to circle your clit. Eddie’s face turned an even deeper shade of red.

“Come on, Eds. Aren’t you going to touch me? I bet you know how to take real good care of a girl.” God, did he. He palmed himself, almost punishingly, through his jeans as he watched your display. He groaned as you brought your fingers up to your mouth to taste your own slick.

“Jesus Christ, baby. I’m gonna give it to you so good,” he moaned, fighting to undo his belt. You hooked your fingers in his belt loops and yanked him closer to undo his pants for him. He tried to kick them off, and then cursed as he realized he still had to fight with the laces of his boots. Finally, clad only in a pair of black boxer briefs, he kissed you.

His lips still on yours, you reached into his boxers and took hold of his length. Good God. You had to pull away from the kiss for a moment to yank his boxers down to visually confirm what you felt. Yep, there it was.

It was average in length, about six and a half inches. But God, it was almost as big around as your wrist, and it was beautiful. He was cut, and the head was a deep, blush pink, fading lighter near the base. A droplet of pre gathered at the tip, and you bent to lick it up. He hissed.

“Careful, pretty girl. I’ll fuck your mouth all you want later, but I want something else right now.” Your cheeks heated at his words. You moved further up the bed, and he followed, resting with his forearms on either side of your head, his cock slipping slowly in and out of the folds of your pussy, the ridge between head and shaft catching deliciously on your clit. He spoke up again.

“I want you to tell me for sure if you want this or not, sweetheart.”

You nodded vehemently.

“Ah-ah, that’s not enough. I want to hear you say it. Tell me you want me to fuck you right now.” But how could you form so many words, that beautiful cock between your legs and your brain melting out of your ears? You suddenly found the strength to be very talkative.

“God, please, Eddie, I want you to fuck me. Put your cock in me, I want to feel it, I want to-“ he laughed and silenced you with a kiss.

“Oh, Princess. Such good manners, asking so nicely,” he replied teasingly. “If you ask like that, I’ll give you whatever you want.

He lined the head of his cock up with your entrance, and you sighed. Finally.

“Ah, one more thing.” He reached behind him for your left hand, which you had practically buried in the flesh of his back, and brought it in front of him to slide off your wedding ring, throwing it to the floor. You’d have to find that later.

Then finally, finally, after months of the two of you pining after each other, each one too afraid to tell the other, he slid into you.

God, Eddie felt like he was on fire.

He’d never done it raw before, never trusted anyone he was with to really be clean, but he trusted you, and he was glad of it.

Your eyes rolled back in your head as you gasped, back arching off the bed. Eddie wasn’t any more put together than you were.

“Fuck, so fucking warm, so fucking wet, all for me,” he moaned trying to catch his breath and giving you a moment to adjust to his size. He smiled, and brushed a stray lock of hair from your face. “How are you doing, sweetheart?”

You were breathless, trying to relax enough to comfortably take him. “Could you move just a little?”

Eddie nodded, he was only about three quarters of the way in. He pulled out half an inch, and thrusted back into you, setting a slow and shallow pace while you adjusted. You slowly felt yourself relax, and then wrapped your legs around him to pull him in fully.

“Alright,” you said. “You can move.”

Eddie was seated balls deep inside the girl he was in love with. He was going to make damn sure he gave it to you the way you needed.

He started slowly, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in, setting a gentle pace, but he couldn’t keep this up much longer. It was taking everything in him to not plow you into the mattress until you screamed his name.

“Harder Eddie, please,” you called out, and it was like a dam broke right in front of you.

He sat up, grabbing your hips and lifting them slightly to meet him, your upper half still on the mattress. He was fucking you hard, and you loved it. In this position he brushed against your g-spot with every thrust, and you used two fingers to circle your clit.

You came almost immediately, still sensitive from the oral you’d received a few minutes prior. As you clenched around him, Eddie came to the realization that he wasn’t going to last much longer.

He dropped back down, your hips back on the mattress with him nearly laying on top of you, still drilling into you like his life depended on it.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he paused his speech to kiss you. “It’s been a while, I’m not going to last much longer.”

You smiled. “That’s alright, Eds. I want you to cum.” His hips stuttered.

“In-inside? Or on-on your stomach, or…” he was fighting to keep up the pace, his thrusts getting sloppier.

“Inside, please Eddie, I want you to fill me up with your cum.”

He’s fairly certain you broke him.

Your permission was all he needed. “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, I’m cumming,” he cried out. His admission pushed you over the edge, and you came once again, Eddie taking you both through your joint orgasms.

His hips finally stilled, and he smiled down at you before practically collapsing on top of you, making you laugh.

“I love you,” he mumbled, muffled because he said it with his face pressed into the pillow beneath your head. You pulled the hair tie from his hair and ran your fingers through it.

“I love you too, Eddie,” you replied, tears pricking at your eyes. He rolled off of you and propped himself up on an elbow to look at you.

“Sweetheart, what do you want to do now? Do you want to stay with him?” he questioned, hoping to God your answer was no.

“No Eddie, I don’t. I just don’t know where else to go.”

“I could take care of you. I’ll take you into town tomorrow, we’ll talk to a lawyer. You can move your stuff while he’s away for the weekend and you’ll never have to deal with him again. I’ll protect you,” he said, searching your eyes for an answer.

You turn to face him fully, tears flowing freely now. “Really? You’d help me with all of that?”

“God, of course, sweetheart. I’ll help you with all of that and more because I love you.” He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, far more chaste than any he’s given you up until now.

“I love you too, Eddie. More than anything,” you reply.

Things are looking up for you, and you can’t wait to see where this is going to go.

Eddie is thrilled you chose Option D.

#eddie x reader #eddie my beloved #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson #stranger thing s4 #stranger things smut #Spotify

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preet-01 · 4 months

Note

f for the ask game with Jenson/daniel

F — Stuck on a Deserted Island

When Jenson had said in an interview that he wouldn’t mind being stuck on a deserted island with Daniel (well he’d said Ricky Bobby, but it’s the same thing), he hadn’t imagined it actually happening.

And if he was honest, his version of being stuck on a deserted island involved a lot of sex and fun times. It did not involve a crying Daniel because there was blood and a sprained ankle. Nor did it involve no food or shelter or way of leaving said island. This was not the sex paradise he’d been thinking of when he’d said he’d love to be stuck on a deserted island with Daniel because he knew how to have a good time.

When they make it off this island — which they will because both of them are too pretty to waste away here — Mark and Fernando are going to give him so much shit about the whole situation and how he didn’t need to find a deserted island to get Daniel back in his bed.

“You only needed to ask, he’s always gagging for it. Didn’t need to actually go to a deserted island,” Mark would say in that way where Jenson couldn’t ever figure out if Mark liked Daniel or not. Back in the day, when Daniel was the sweet rookie being corrupted by world champions, Mark tried to be the older brother figure. But time and Red Bull can change a lot of things and the whole McLaren fiasco also couldn’t have been great.

“I would just take him to bed, no need for islands. Too much sand and not enough lube,” Fernando would say. There would also probably be something about Daniel getting hurt and threatening words.

The Mark and Fernando in his head almost drown out Daniel’s whimpers of pain. Jenson had propped up the younger man against the wall of the cave they’d found. It wasn’t a large cave, but it would do for now as they gathered their wits and decided on how to proceed.

“Daniel, we’re going to be alright,” he says, wiping away the dried tears staining Daniel’s cheeks. Once he’d put a makeshift splint on Daniel’s ankle to stabilize it, Daniel’s tears had stopped, but the pain hadn’t and everyone knew Daniel hated pain. It was actually quite astonishing how much Daniel hated pain while having such a dangerous career and love for bikes.

“Are we???” Daniel questions, not quite believing him.

Which fair, Jenson had said, “what could go wrong,” when inviting Daniel to join him on the yacht and things had evidently gone very wrong.

“We are,” Jenson reassures. When they don’t dock in two days, someone will be alerted and a search will happen. If not for Jenson, then for Daniel. Red Bull made way too much money and way too many plans for Daniel to not throw everything they could at a search for them.

They would be found soon.

___

“You can’t build a fire?” Daniel asks as Jenson attempts at starting a fire. If he weren’t freezing cold, Daniel would find the look of absolute concentration on Jenson’s face cute. But he was freezing and Jenson had all but ordered him to stay where he was so he wouldn’t put too much pressure on his ankle.

“I grew up in England, Daniel,” Jenson retorts.

“That’s not an excuse,” Daniel says.

After many tries and light heckling from Daniel, Jenson builds the fire. It warms up their cave, but not by much. “I’m still cold,” Daniel whines.

And well Jenson had heard that you could conserve heat by touching bare skin. Using some large leaves they’d found earlier, they make a sort of blanket to cover the cave floor and undress — using their clothes as blankets for their bodies.

“What if I wanted to be the little spoon?” Jenson asks.

“You like my ass too much to miss out an opportunity to have it pressed up against you,” Daniel says and no more questions are asked as Jenson lays down behind Daniel, his cock finding its place.

___

Daniel’s naked on the beach, all laid out and everything, but Jenson can’t do anything. Daniel had made it clear that Jenson wasn’t fucking him without lube.

“Water is not lube, Jense,” Daniel had said when Jenson had tried to initiate something. The Fernando in his head had been right, deserted islands are no good for sex.

___

Two weeks.

It takes for them to be rescued. And as Jenson had expected, it was a search mission fully funded by Red Bull — they had plans for Daniel that didn’t include the life of a hermit on an island with the 2009 World Champion.

They’d been together for two weeks, in only one another’s company, and then nothing. Daniel had been whisked away to his family and Jenson to his.

They don’t see one another for a few weeks. Not until Daniel shows up at his apartment and shoves a bottle of lube into his hands.

Who needs an island when you’ve got a million dollar Monaco apartment with a very nice bed and copious amounts of lube at your disposal?

#answered #ask game #jenson/daniel #daniel ricciardo x jenson button

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illumoonated · 2 years

Text

Thoughts about Wednesday (the show)

I wished i liked the Wednesday show more. Truly. But...

...the writing felt half-assed. The characters felt lazy. The addams family felt not quite weird enough. It seemed to be a very safe (somewhat boring) reboot that ppl are groveling over simply bc they want winclair to be canon (which, fine do your thing -- but you're setting yourselves up for heartbreak bc these writers/showrunners give zero effs about making wednesday canonically queer). The love triangle was actually painful to watch.

There was throw-away "representation" with her being asked if she was into someone a "guy...or you know, a girl?" to get woke points. Someone else pointed it out too, but the black male mayor being told he doesn't "know what it's like to be not heard" was so incredibly tone deaf it threw me off. As well as the only real POCs having a personality being the actual Addams crew.

(The siren queen bee was cool but she like immediately became Wednesday's bestie after 2 minutes of a heart to heart at a dance? Idk she felt wasted/characterized too quickly to feel impactful when she helped in the last episode. There was no emotional "oomph" to her being on Wednesday's team.) ((Also there was the aapi vampire who smiled once and had a single line of dialogue or smth...? wish we got more from her bc that's a cool-ass concept of being stuck in a place like nevermore where ppl know you're an immortal--like I was waiting for a big reveal to be pulled from this vamp being like "hey I knew your parents when they went here, oh, that fancy book you need? I have read all the nevermore books so many times I can just rewrite it for you by memory, where's your typewriter?")) Basically none of the students "banded together" for Wednesday in a believable way. They just...did....?

And if the intent was to simply get a flavor of the month moody white boi as Wednesday's love interest -- fine, but you didn't even make them likeable (not the actors' faults, bc they were clearly given no direction other than "go and be in love w wednesday for no reason bc she's MC"). And Wednesday as a character would avoid the moody bois and possessive "nice guys" like the plague (pun not intended) and would find interest in a strange/true social outcast more. (If she's gotta be with a boy make sure it's like whatshisface in Addams Family Values who is nerdy and nervous and a true social outcast that Wednesday had a real banter/challenge with instead of gross obsession/ownership like fuccboi #1 and #2. Again, not the actors' faults.)

I am so torn as an ace person bc I want her to be aroace so badly (and I believe it would be an appropriate identity for her). I also don't want to be the ace person being like "no winclair shouldn't be canon" bc I want sapphic stories to be represented but I hate how any close platonic relationships are automatically romanticized/ran away with despite how the characters feel about the other person. Again, if this is a friends(roomates) to lovers story fine. But there's zero chance that'll happen with the writing where it's currently at (I mean, they can change this but rn I don't see it happening).

TL;DR 1. wednesday shows how thirsty we all are for true queer rep/romantic or otherwise

2. the love triangle trope (esp the cishet ones) have to be damn good in this day and age to be worthwhile (the triangles in 1899 come to mind as good, current examples involving fleshed out characters with chemistry)

3. the show is trying to earn woke points without committing,

4. the addams family is mischaracterized from the source material,

5. this reboot entry is safe, lazy, and predictable from a plot, character, and worldbuilding standpoint (I was expecting far out weird/spooky shit like the Sabrina netflix series tbh and was really disappointed in how safe this reboot played it)

6. I wish I wanted winclair to be canon but i don't and I wish I did so ppl don't think i'm being "too ace" or "anti-" bc anytime platonic relationships occur between two pretty ppl the internet loses its mind and disregards what the characters actually feel about each other (reinforcing that friendship < romance)

#wednesday #wednesday netflix #the addams family #wednesday addams

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zalrb · 2 years

Note

why is enzo irrelevant according to you?

from another post of mine that i wrote when season 7 was on air:

The way he’s written reminds me of university students who lost their way, like oh I thought I’d be good at psychology but I don’t like it let’s try sociology let’s try English let’s try math — that is like Enzo and his stupid storylines: let me be Damon’s bff oh that didn’t work let me try to find Maggie oh that didn’t pan out let me be have a thing for Caroline oh wait she’s involved in another romantic storyline let me be obsessed with destroying Stefan’s life oh that didn’t make any sense, let me get involved with Sarah oh that was a waste of time, let me fall in love with Lily oh wait she belongs to the Salvatore brothers, let me be obsessed with finding family now, LIKE PICK A FUCKING MAJOR ENZO. JFC. (and this is a current insertion: obviously characters have different storylines my issue with Enzo was that it felt like the writers were just throwing things at him to see what stuck and nothing stuck, nothing had narrative or emotional impact or weight, no follow through that led to an arc that influenced the show and the characters or Enzo for that matter in any real way)What would’ve made more sense is if Enzo was a partner in crime of Damon’s back in the day and he came to Mystic Falls to raise hell and saw that Elena had neutered Damon and was like, dude what the fuck? Remember when we used to be freaking beasts? Let’s run this town! And Damon goes through a crisis of identity or whatever. That would’ve been cool. But no.

a calmer reiteration

Anonymous asked:

I thought Enzo had potential when first brought on. He could've been a thorn in Damon's side because Damon left him. They quickly did away with that story because evry1 has to luuuvv Damon. They could've delved deeper into how his experience shaped him but nope there was no meat to his story. Then his horrible sl last season, y in the world would he be after Stefan? That's the kind of sense jp/cd have though NO SENSE non sense. From MM interview I think jp felt bad about how she screwed up his character, he also had another offer but they wanted him to stay and he did all for s6 mess. So knowing this jp probably thought putting Enzo with Bonnie would make up for it, trying to give him more of a relevant sl. I feel like she’s doing this with MD character Ric. She knows he’s irrelevant so she incorporated him into a lead’s sl. Enzo should’ve died in s5 and Ric should’ve stayed dead. If there were more competent ppl running tvd then they could’ve wrote a sl for both that made sense.

Ehh, I never cared for Enzo tbh and never thought he was relevant especially since I was angry that TVD introduced yet another character and was doing nothing with Matt and Tyler and Jeremy in season 5 or in season 6 and in season 6 they added Liv and Luke too, which is a TVD problem, they keep adding characters instead of flushing out the ones they already have so I always resented Enzo. If there HAD to be an Enzo, though, I would give him an entirely different storyline and instead of being the poor guy that Damon left to burn and years of torture blah blah blah (which was a storyline that served to make Damon more sympathetic instead of giving history on Enzo as a character) I would make Enzo an old partner in crime from Damon’s past and have him come back and be like, “Dude wtf happened to you? You’re whipped. I don’t even recognize you anymore, the Damon Salvatore I knew was a fucking BEAST” and would basically have Damon assess what his life has become, who he’s become, how he doesn’t feel like himself and get him to start all kinds of shit in MF but instead he was just a physical symbol of Damon’s guilt and conscience and blah blah fucking blah. And then in season 6, like him being OBSESSED with destroying Stefan was just, WHY, WHY ARE YOU HERE? this makes NO sense. he was just around doing shit that no one cared about. And yes, you’re right they incorporated him into a central sl this season to make him more relevant which is why they paired him with Bonnie even though that makes absolutely no sense and it’s a rush job. Alaric should’ve stayed dead in season 3 and done it. But Julie likes Matt so she brought him back. The only character Julie was adamant on killing was Bonnie in season 5 and Kat had to lay out all the reasons why Bonnie should return in season 6.

Like he'd been on the show for three seasons and I still don't really know who he's supposed to be as a character or what the point of him was other than to eventually become a consolation prize for Bonnie fans.

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thequietmanno1 · 9 months

Text

TheLreads, Vigilantes ch 93, Replies Part 2

1) “Rappa down! Send the EMT unity ASAP, we can’t allow the timeline to be fractured, we can’t lose him!”- Mirko heard the call, but she only knows how to heal by beating up the enemy worse than the patient, so they don’t hurt them anymore.

2) “Yeah I don’t think that’s in the rulebook of free-for-all illegal cagefights, but then again, it’s not like there’s something against it in there.”- He is technically still fighting within the cage this way, depending on which side he’s holding.

3) “THERE IS MIRKO, SHOWING UP TO SAVE THE DAY ONCE AGAIN! and somehow here faster than All Might. Huh.”- All Might was further delayed getting the officers some healthy snacks before rushing in. Stakeouts can be hungry work.

4) “Why of course because she’s this manga’s best character and her presence here is a blessing to all of us mortals? And Horikoshi demanded her appearance whit a gun to Furuhashi’s head?”- Truly, the side-characters can upstage the “heroes” whenever they take action. The more the fandom loves them, the stronger they’ll be.

5) “I don’t know Rappa, you ever seen a bunny fighting? Those kicks are vicious man.”- More lives have been lost facing off against mad bunnies than there have been against bears.

6) “Unfortunately, you can’t hoodie, the time-space continuum must be preserved no matter what. We are bound to the fate laid forth.”- Hood’s acting like their demise would automatically make him stronger from it, like they were metal slimes in a video game, due to give a ton of exp if he could just finish them off. No wonder he was mad the encounter was forcibly ended early.

7) “She’s more capable than the both of you doltz, why are you being mean to her now?”- They’re just annoyed she’s showing them up when they’re fighting 2-on-1 and losing and she comes crashing in and belts Hood easily.

8) “the fuck you are on Knuckles, you saw her holding her own even better than Rappa! Not gonna refute the wild allegations, she is absolutely feral, that there’s no denying.”- Pretty sure that’s just Rappa mouthing off to Knuckles and him giving him his trademark silent treatment in response whilst he monologues.

9) “OH SHIT YOU ONLY HAVE T MINUS 2.9999999 SECONDS NOW MIRKO, QUICK, KICK HIS ASS BEFORE ALL MIGHT SHOWS UP!”- The one opponent Mirko can’t beat: The ticking clock of the inevitable future!

10) “Already? Damn, time really flies when All Might shows up, right?”- Literally, actually. I think the major time skip occurred after the sky egg incident and his major involvement in that chapter of Koichi’s life. All Might is the harbinger of chronology, pushing time towards the present in ever-increasing leaps with every time he shows up.

11) “No no, no throwing a fit, it’s time to go home now, your mom is calling, you need to take a bath and have dinner okay?”- He’s tired himself out from all this exercise, needs a long period of rest before he’s ready for playtime again.

12) “Aaaand time. Oh jesus, that was a close call, those three seconds were way too short for so much to happen I tell you that.”- Furuhasi should have given himself a larger window of time, but like many things, he misjudged it.

13) “Yeah All Might, you wasted too many nanoseconds picking up your body pillow. Shame on you, you pervert”- All Might, always on time to save the day, but never stop the overarching plot.

14) “I don;t even blame this chapter for being uneventful, I think the fact I spent a whole month away from liveblogging rotted my mind and rusted my gears, I need a bit more of it so I can actually put the ol’ reliable brain back on the tracks.”- Get that WD40 spray for your rusty brainpan. @thelreads

#my hero academia #bnha #chapter replies #thelreads #bnha vigilantes #vigilantes 93

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melancholia-of-departure · 1 year

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Cyberpunk 2077: Phantom Liberty (video game, 2023) and Nemesis, 1992 (Dir. Albert Pyun)--Spoilers

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Nemesis, 1992 "See, Alex? You're not human. You're one of us." "Fuck you!" -Characters in the movie behaving in a thematically appropriate way

If you want to watch a movie that addresses the themes of cyberpsychosis much more effectively than this expansion pack, check out Albert Pyun's 1992 classic Nemesis. It's honestly everything anyone could want from Cyberpunk. Above is the best action scene of all time. Below is a supercut of some of the other best action scenes of all time, with one of the best jokes of all time thrown in for good measure, all from this one wonderful movie.

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And here's a behind-the-scenes documentary, also fantastic. It's great when people involved in a production take sci-fi themes seriously and don't resent the audience and writers for having an interest in them.

Cyberpunk 2077: Phantom Liberty

Where to even begin with this weirdness? Cyberpunk had a notoriously messy release. I've spent a good amount of time sticking up for the reworked version of the game that I spent my first 400 hours playing. I can no longer justify that. Phantom Liberty is a hot pile of crap.

Spoilers for Cyberpunk 2077 and Cyberpunk 2077: Phantom Liberty follow

We start off strong with an homage to Escape from New York and a President who actually seems like an interesting character. Then we meet Idris Elba and everything starts going to shit. I went for what seemed like a reasonable playthrough given what I knew about V from the many time I've beaten the game and seen him throw a tantrum if Johnny tries to keep control--it would, based on actions we see V take from the third person, seem like wanting Johnny out of his head is in character. It's part and parcel of getting the Relic removed. Like it or not, Johnny is a hallucinatory symptom of cyberpsychosis and not an unambiguously good guy.

So why did I feel, at the end of the game, like I was being punished for having this hallucination, this literal symptom of cyberpsychosis that has been killing me for the whole plot of the game, surgically removed?

Maybe I was being punished for betraying Songbird--but she didn't end up dead, and she did promise V a solution to the Relic problem. Alex's death in my playthrough could in some way be attributed to V, but it's honestly a stretch. In purely utilitarian terms, compatible with Johnny's and the President's and Reed's and Alex's own set of ideals--the ideology into which I chose to get interpolated as a spy--this is an acceptable loss. All other objectives were achieved, since the President was safe while Reed and So Mi survived.

Yeah, So Mi's life sucks. But V is a violent thug and one more wasted life rotting away in a cell somewhere honestly doesn't seem like something that would weigh too heavily on his/her conscience--without reinforcement in the form of ridiculous punishment that comes out of left field thematically.

At the end of what seemed to me like a "good" playthrough I found out that there was no New Game + mode, no reward for finishing the game, just a lame cutscene where I get pushed down the stairs by some 'borged-up nobodies after finding out that everyone I loved has decided I'm not important enough to include in their lives, despite numerous attempts to reach me while I was in a coma for 2 years. Every love interest has better things to do than catch up with you. It's shameful that there isn't Panam in this. Come to think of it, not sure if there's any Takemura, either, but I may just not have done his core storyline yet on my first playthrough.

Compelling characters and strong cast utterly wasted by an ending that says none of them care about you because you're not a 95% cyborg. If only someone had decided that this conflict between man and machine were worthy of being emphasized thematically in the expansion. I guess attacking MaxTac counts.

Just a lot of underbaked story ideas here. If you don't already love Cyberpunk 2077 then don't bother with it, probably. If you do love it, maybe don't buy it. The gameplay is wonky, too, with a lot of the rebalancing for 2.0 feeling like they just nerfed a bunch of skills and made a few systems more confusing.

Watch Nemesis instead.

#cyberpunk #nemesis 1992 #albert pyun #phantom liberty #spoilers #90s #2077 #cyborg #movies #video games #video game review #film review #practical effects #Youtube

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homespun-stories · 1 year

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The Winter Bathers

I’m a woman for all seasons. They help me carve up the elephant-sized year into something manageable, so I don’t freak out at the prospect of 365 unchanging days. I joke with friends about the abject misery of cold and wet winters in Denmark, where I have lived for the last eight years, but I inwardly rejoice at the cashmere and candles and casseroles that accompany them. I always think of that Bill Hicks line on people who live in L.A bragging about it being hot and sunny every day: “What are you, a fucking lizard?” Our summers are so much sweeter in Scandinavia for knowing we’ve weathered the worst and we’re duly rewarded with long days, soft breezes, and lush greenery. If you’ll allow me a moment of cringe, I believe that the seasons teach us the power of rituals. And rituals are how we endure.

There’s a saying in Denmark which you learn pretty fast when the first cold snap hits: there’s no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing. Which is all well and good, but does nothing to explain the frantic energy with which the Danes also remove all their clothes entirely and throw themselves into the sea during the coldest months of the year. This particular form of brutality is known as ‘winter bathing’, a coy name which implies retreating to some Edwardian copper tub filled with steaming, eucalyptus-scented water whilst the snow falls gently outside. The reality is a gaggle of naked people, nipples to the wind on a frozen pontoon, wading into water colder than the base temperature of my fridge.

I moved to Denmark during a heatwave. Those first weeks in Copenhagen were spent in a spritz-fuelled haze as the long summer days melted into ambient warm nights, and I did little more than bounce between the bars and cafes that lined the historic canals and cobbled streets. When I filed the papers for my residency card and was asked to give the reason for my relocation, there was no box for me to tick. I had no job, no studies, no family here to reunite with. I had, quite plainly, moved for life. And Copenhagen appeared to be where I was best suited for living it. Even the inevitable winter, and my staggeringly bad clothing, couldn’t diminish the joy with which I embraced my new hygge lifestyle. I lit a lot of candles, I consumed vast quantities of buttered potatoes, bread and pastry, and I persisted in ordering glasses of red wine in local dive bars that only served beer on tap. Denmark and I—we were made for each other.

By the time I was ushering in my third winter, I’d leveled up my clothing to include the kind of coat that stops people dying on the side of Mount Everest. I’d completed my first ‘Viking biking’ experience having cycled in snow without losing my mind or my two front teeth. And I’d also moved to a neighbourhood in Copenhagen that is locally known as “Shit Island” for reasons that seem to involve a blighted history of municipal waste disposal and a whispered disdain of working class people. It offered affordable housing that was minutes away from a protected nature reserve and one of the city’s longest and cleanest public beaches. And that was where I first saw them: the Winter Bathers. A mass of flushed naked bodies waddling around the turquoise wooden dock at the top of the beach whilst I was scowling at my partner through the biting wind, my survival gear zipped up to my nose.

I’d had a primer on European nudity when I went skiing with some friends in Austria a few years earlier. I say “I went skiing” but this is a significant overstatement of the facts given I had never placed a single ski boot on my feet before the trip. “I went crying on the side of a mountain whilst my friends had a blast” would be a more accurate description for the “holiday” for which I forked over vast quantities of cash I could not afford. I can think of no other experience where you pay so much to be routinely hurt and humiliated, aside from the kinds of activities that take place between consenting adults in sex dungeons.

After three days of crying on the side of a mountain called—I kid you not—the Grimming, the weather went from Loads of Snow to Too Much Snow and offered me a blessed exit ramp from the nursery slopes and my perennially hungover 19-year-old ski instructor. My friends and I huddled together back at the lodge, throwing logs into the only form of heating—a single raging furnace we’d named The Beast—and weighed up our options for things to do at a ski resort that didn’t include skiing in a blizzard. My friend, whose family owned the house, suggested we try out the local spa he’d been to before. We wondered why he was so quick to volunteer for dinner duty instead, but desire for warmth soon overcame intrigue as we trotted off with borrowed swimsuits to poach ourselves in pools of water whilst our friend laughed into his snaps and thawed some sausages on The Beast for our return.

Whatever vision I’d had of a cozy alpine spa retreat quickly evaporated as we pulled up outside something the size and comportment of a department store. This was a serious multi-level bathing complex and it was packed with locals. If we’d taken a beat longer at the reception desk, we would have reckoned with the enormous sign that declared the complex “textile frei” beyond the kids’ paddling pool, but we’d paid our entrance fees and suddenly found ourselves surrounded by hundreds—literally, hundreds—of naked Austrian strangers.

One of our party, an American, was so overwhelmed by what he called “this European obsession with nudity” that he stormed off to the deck chairs outside the cafe and put a towel over his head. The rest of us pushed on, slowly peeling off our layers and keeping our eyes resolutely above the neck as we gingerly headed towards one of 50 or more steam rooms. Before long, the simple fact of our nakedness melted into the background. I guess it’s hard to stay uptight when the environment you’re in is expressly designed to do the opposite. I found myself gazing at naked strangers through the steam in the way you might look at potatoes in the produce aisle—no intention or judgment, just browsing the various lumps and bumps. Most of the men were curiously hairfree below the earlobes, like upright seals in toupees, and their wives and girlfriends wore blue frosted eye shadow and gold jewelry despite the water and the heat and the fact it wasn’t 1982 anymore. Everyone looked like they ate boiled potatoes and pork chops three times a day.

Feeling more confident, and leaving our friend to scrub his mind free of rampant nudity, the three of us girded our loins and explored the deeper environs of the spa complex where the saunas were located. My partner nonchalantly strolled ahead of us into some kind of potting shed, the door of which was firmly slammed in our faces by a towel-clad man with a glistening shoulder-length perm. He was, it transpired, a gus meister—a sadist with control of the thermostat and a penchant for using his towel as a whip. My friend and I peered through the porthole, as my partner was scolded in front of the sweating crowd for letting the heat out. He was now in the hands of a man who looked like he’d eaten Kenny G for breakfast and there was nothing we could do to save him. Less than an hour into our spa experience, and we were two men down.

And so, the two of us left standing headed into the empty sauna next door. It happened to provide a stunning, moonlit view of the snow covered ground and the potting shed where unspeakable things were happening. We gazed out into the starlit night in convivial silence, brows beading with sweat as the sand timer trickled down, grateful to rest our eyes on something that wasn’t flesh. Then the door to the potting shed was flung open, disgorging 20 or so bright pink people whereupon they promptly threw themselves onto the snow-covered ground and started rolling around. “Oh, would you look at that..”, my friend quietly muttered. Oh, would you look, indeed—for there was my partner, resplendent in the full moon as he writhed around naked in the snow with his new friends.

***

Back in Denmark, in early 2016, I had developed a lingering curiosity for the eccentric ritual that was being performed at my local beach. Asking around, I learned that the turquoise pontoon was the location of a longstanding winter bathing club, where members rotated between the frigid sea and pine-clad saunas every day of the week, every week of the year. Applications for this obscure membership were open during the first hour on the first day of October to anyone who could navigate the website that had been built in 1997. Correspondingly, the fee for such a bewildering process was less than 20 cents a day. Somehow, my partner and I signed up. So, too, did friends in the neighbourhood, and so we headed off together for an induction session that was totally in Danish which I totally didn’t speak.

Passing over the little wooden bridge from the beach into the winter bathing club for the very first time is like passing some mythical border where The Emperor’s New Clothes is operating at scale, in that lots of people are naked but no one talks about it. You, the one in the arctic base layers and wind-breaker, start to feel like the weirdo in a land where clothing isn’t part of the religion.

Having run the gauntlet of nudity, we finally huddled together in a cabin and waited for class to begin. It was a brisk reminder that Denmark has a national obsession with rules, and despite the seemingly carefree nature of the activity at hand, there were many, many rules for winter bathing. My friend kindly noted the most important ones down on his phone, in English, and periodically showed them to me. You must enter the water ass first, he revealed at one point. I couldn’t picture the pretzel-like distortions I would have to put my body through to conjure such a feat, but Mamma Gus—the grey-haired matriarch delivering the commandments when she wasn’t whipping people in the sauna—was already onto the next bathing diktat which my friend was frantically transcribing. “Who are these people?” I wondered to myself as I gazed across the packed room, before catching my reflection in the window.

People joked, when I first moved to Denmark, that I had relocated for the weather. Lately, because I am not a fucking lizard, I have come to agree. If I must spend a winter somewhere, as a woman for all seasons, then I’d rather spend it here. From the unencumbered vantage point of where the land meets sea, and the weather plays out on an enormous canvas, you understand that the Danish winter contains multitudes. There are days on the dock when the sky is cerulean blue and you can see your toes through the water as the sun shimmies off the ripples. There are days when the slate-grey sky rains down on the churning waves and you hold on to the ladder for your own dear life. And there are days when the sea freezes over, and they cut a hole in the ice so you can swim through the slush as the snow quietly settles around you.

Cold water immersion, much like the culture around it, is something you acclimate to. What was once an affront to the system—the temperature, the nudity—becomes the norm. I quickly learned the right way to compose myself for winter bathing, ensuring I didn’t squeal when I entered the water, and placed a towel between my butt and the bench of the welcoming sauna. I came to understand that the rules are a necessary part of the ritual, because they hammer out the pointier parts of our personalities and let us live the simple mantra of the seasoned bather: cold, heat, and repeat.

Every week I do this ritual a few times over the course of an hour, and when I am done my skin is buttery, my muscles loosened, and whatever thoughts were raging around my head have floated to the bottom of the sea. In the absence of any kind of spirituality that would find me convening in places of worship, winter bathing is where I go—for solace, for connection, and to grapple with the very meaning of things. I do not know what I did or who I was before I became A Winter Bather. How small my life must have been without this tremendous cracking open and repair. It has become a constant amidst chaos and the answer to my questions.

I have asked it many questions, lately. Last year was bruised by loss—the loss of a job, the loss of a home, and the loss of a much-wanted pregnancy. In the aftermath of the very worst day, when I joined that dreaded clutch of women who go to hospital pregnant and leave without a baby, I longed for the cold water. No swimming, the miscarriage pamphlet had advised, due to the risk of infection. I waited and waited whilst I bled each day, deep red and clotted, unable to fathom the cruelty of the loss as the memories bounced around the lockbox in my mind. I needed an ocean to pour them into.

When the time finally came and the bleeding stopped, it was a quiet weekday afternoon. A couple of lunchtime bathers were already packing up their things, leaving me and a pair of ducks to enjoy the moment in companionable silence. The winter bathing club actually has a name: Det Kolde Gys. It roughly translates as ‘the cold shudder’, which is strangely enigmatic for a language which is so blindingly matter-of-factual. It points to the shared sensation of every single person who heads down the ladder and into the water, no matter how seasoned the bather. Like the rumble of an engine turning over, the cold shudder is the sign of life. That day I welcomed the shock, drawing it deep into my body and wrapping my arms around the pain before I released it into the water. The balm of the heat in the sauna just moments later made me weep. Isak Dineson was right when she said that “the cure for anything is saltwater - sweat, tears or the salt sea.”

Cold, heat, and repeat; winter, spring, summer and autumn. Rituals are how we endure.

#LifeAtHome #WinterBathing #Rituals

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